#fucking god bless though the one small part of my brain that is insistent there’s a chance things will get better

[raeofgayshine]

*stares into void* How am I supposed to sleep knowing that doctors don’t take me seriously? That the pain I’m in, all over my body by the way, that was bad enough earlier I couldn’t turn my head very far because I was in pain and it felt stiff (and now I just have the pain left so I can at least turn it but will continue not to do so much). Pain that makes it hard for me to stand for very long because it kills my back and also my hip, who has a fuck ton of issues on my own, of course all the way to my feet, and there’s a reason I have frequent nightmares of my legs just giving out and no longer working, because the longer I stand the more that feels like it’ll be the case, and also that seems to be a lower bar lately which fucking great you know. The pain also, that goes from my neck like I said but into my shoulders and down my arms, sometimes. Sometimes also just my fucking wrists hurt, my hands will get so stiff I feel like I can’t do anything, can’t even close them around something to pick it up, and isn’t that my shittiest situation because I like to be doing stuff.

But instead of taking me seriously doctors have insisted it’s all my anxiety (except my wrists, which is clearly carpal tunnel despite multiple tests proving I have no fucking signs of that). Which is basically the modern day version of getting diagnosed with hysteria.

And so how can I sleep both knowing I will only continue to get worse and deal with more symptoms (pain and otherwise) until I reach a point I can’t actually fucking function anymore because no one will take me seriously, and also how can I sleep when I’m in fucking pain no matter how I lay and there is no medicine I have that will fucking help it?

[delicrieux]

—MAKE YOU SAY “OH” EXTRAS: TINDER

extra meaning non-canonical occurrence; can be placed anywhere in the “make you say oh” timeline after couple (cha. 14) and before the final “oh”. 

pairing—corpse husband x f!reader warnings—tinder profiles, tw: men, swearing.  word count—2.6k. format— written. ─── ❥ req by nonnie​:  y/n makes a youtube vid/live stream where she's just swiping through her tinder acc and corpse literally blocks her lmao

author’s note—akldsljfs this was such a funny idea i could not not write it lmao

ultimate masterlist. myso masterlist

You have pulled the biggest brain move by setting up both a facecam and a screen recorder on your phone. All is beautifully displayed and visible during the stream. Your fanbase is particularly intrigued on what exactly are you planning on doing today, seeing as your tweet of “strea” had been a bit vague, if not downright ominous. No emojis. No elaboration. You couldn’t even be bothered to finish the word. Truly, a mystery. Everyone tuned in and are currently waiting with bated breath.

A few of your fans must sense upcoming doom because the overall mood in the chat turns from optimistically intrigued to...evil. It’s an entity all on it’s own now, clawing at you through the screen with various renditions of laughter and devil emojis. A few eggplants thrown in there for good measure, accompanied, naturally, by the scandalous water drops. At first the common consensus is that you’re biting the bullet and going through your camera roll on stream. Definitely an idea worth considering, though you frankly don’t know what lies at the start of the 11k photograph journey, and you are afraid to check in public. Could be a harmless meme, could be a salacious pic you had saved of an OF star. It’s really a gamble. Either way, you would definitely get banned. You might still get banned. Why do you insist on doing shit like this?

Because it’s funny. Because you’re kinda stupid. Because it’s just so absolutely laughably easy to do.

A smile quirks your lips, and while it is not explicitly smug, the look in your eyes sure is, “Greetings,” You utter lowly, dimming the lights--the budget for this stream! Ugh, you went all out, “my children.”

mother i crave violence

sensing evil energy rn!!

i do not claim the energy in this video for myself or anyone else watching this 💖💖

^with peace and love shut the fuck up

“I know y’all lowkey hoes-” Upon your words the chat splits into two: one side eagerly agrees (even shares a few OF accounts! How helpful, supporting small businesses!), whilst the other feverishly insists on innocence. You make a face stuck somewhere between offended and bewildered, “Now c'mon now-I know you. I know you all. We’re the same, don’t-what was that?”

You try to scroll back to the comment but it’s loss in the sea of incoming messages, “I swear to God I just saw-”

Corpse_Husband: i love late night streams it’s not like i have anything better to do.

“COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORPSE!!!!” 

rip headphone users

i cant feel my face when im with you by the weeknd but instead of face its my fucking ears

yall think full vol on pc is better?my parents woke up 😭😭😭😭

To think he’s spending his last waking moments for today with watching you (he probably still would have anyway, because you do not posses an ounce of shame or self-control and pester him relentlessly)! It makes your heart sing, and suddenly, a traitorous, fun hating idea barges it’s way through the crowd of incoherent buzzing and states: don’t do this. For some reason it also has the voice of Rae. As if that would work in guilt-tripping you- Rae never succeed, and her fictitious rendition in mind won’t fare much better either.

Still, you thought about it. That must count for something. Corpse will understand, won’t he? Why don’t you want to upset it in the first place? Men look so funny when they lose their shit, like hello, don’t you have anything better to do? But the image of Corpse just sitting there, hurt, distraught, leaving you on seen because he’s in his sad boy hours leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

queen rly went from  🥺😊 to 😕 u ok bbgirl?

Corpse_Husband: no pouts cutie

akjdjoeijdfse cUTIE??? deadass boutta r.i.p.

Well that succeeded in eliminating everything from mind, doubts included. If this was an anime, the scenery would shift into something roseate, with flowers and bubbles and sparkles all around you along with a halo or two. Alas, not an anime, rather reality. The led-lights, however, seemingly possessing a will of their own, slowly turn from deep violet to pink. You smile brightly, like the absolute dumbass you are, and you are met with a ray of heart and blushing emojis. You are just so cute, a real cutie! Still in your disguise adorable state, you swipe your finger on your phone screen, the grin never leaving your lips.

There, among the plethora of apps, nestled sits a red square with a white fire plastered on it. The delicate calligraphy on the bottom reads: TINDER.

The mood changes once again- you’re giving the roaches emotional instability by how quickly everything flips over- and the chat spams eggplants vigorously; some, of course, bravely fight against the thirst.

nooooooo i thought y/n is gonna stream in a god honoring way!!!

^pack it up girl defined

“So, Charlie and I-” You note a few awfully curious comments and squint, “-yes, we talk a lot. Charlie is a really good friend of mine. We’re best friends. Brothers. Sisters. Cousins. The whole fucking family tree-no, that sounds weird. Delete. Anyway, Charlie, being the absolute fucker he is, said, hey, you know what would be funny? And I was like, nooo, what would be funny, Charlie? And he says to me, he says, says, making fun of men on Tinder. And if y’all need any more proof that Charlie and I are platonic soulmates, then dunno, my children, my roaches, I dunno-I dunno what more to give you.”

You can’t be bothered reading the comments, there’s too damn many. You also need to save your reading comprehension for the actual bios. It has a time limit, that darn thing. 

“Okay, so I made a profile earlier, but I hadn’t swiped on anyone yet-” Despite the fact, Tinder helpfully informs you that already 99+ people have swiped right on you, “So, this is me,” You show the pictures you have of yourself, and damn, not to be a conceited narcissist, but you look really good. Like if you saw yourself on Tinder, you’d super like instantly. “Uhm, so, my bio-my bio says: let’s sauce in the tub together, ya dig? splishy splashy, giggle giggle.” 

i cant believe we are witnessing y/n trying to form a coherent sentence live 

shes trying give her time

ya dig??? y not capeesh

what scene from the godfather is this lol?

“My anthem, is,” You laugh, covering your lips with your hand, “Corpsie, this is form you-” Proudly, you show that indeed, Corpse’s E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY FUCKING LIFE is listed as your anthem on Spotify, “Hehe.” Yes, you say that aloud.

Corpse_Husband: you’re killing me Corpse_Husband: thanks baby Corpse_Husband: now delete tinder ❤︎

You ignore his last quip, deciding it’s finally time to get this show on the road, “Right, let’s do this shit. I’m not actually going to swipe on any guys that look, uh, decent? Yuck, can’t believe I just said that, uhm, because I-because I feel like some actually deserve a chance with someone? I don’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up, as I am currently in a long distance relationship with Chrollo. So I’m just gonna swipe on, like, frat boy assholes. Because I don’t care if I hurt their feelings. Quite frankly I don’t think they possess them in the first place.”

The chat voices their agreements. With the ground rules set, you, giddy, click on the first profile.

Does Tinder know what you’re doing, your plan? The FBI agent watching you through your phone must be working overtime, bless his heart. They must, because the the first guy to meet you is named Jason, and there he is, blond hair and blue eyes, holding up a fish the size of his torso. Marginally adequate in looks, pretty good muscles. A solid 7 bordering on 8. He’s the same age as you, 15 miles away, and he studies at some college you don’t care enough to look up. Bio reads:

I like to drive fast. Fishing is my passion, but if you can’t catch me by the ocean, you’ll catch me catching waves, bro! Love a good gym date. You do squats, and I’ll keep a close eye to make sure you’re doing it correctly ;) You probably saw me at a party. Leader of the The Phi Kappa Psi. I’m a Gemini, if that matters lol.

You, of course, read it aloud, dramatically; provide some constructive criticism-he seems nice, but he’s a Gemini, so naturally, you can’t trust him at all! Also, that gym date session leaves little to be desired. With your rant done, you swipe right, and shocker! (not), it’s an instant match.

“Okie, I still wanna swipe of some profiles, so I’ll see what he’ll text later-” For a second you wonder the legalities of this stream, but you’re having too much fun to think of it further, “guys, I won't get sued, right?”

NOW she considers it

well....

if you do, we’ll kickstart your lawyer dw <3

Onto the next profile. Kevin, 25, is seen fixing his car- or, you assume he’s mid-fixing it, you don’t really know why else he’d hold a wrench and be covered in oil. He’s shirtless, and the caveman part of your brain echoes something closely resembling AWOOOGA!, but...but!...blonde hair, blue eyes. You pout again, “I don’t...I don’t really like blond boys, ya know? With the blue eyes and all, it’s just not my thing, uhm, unless it’s like-like...Armin from Attack on Titan. Else I don’t care.”

Onto the bio:

You have to treat a car like you treat a woman: go on long rides, take the lead, but most importantly, keep her oiled up 😜 

“What the fuck did I just read?”

The chat is equally confused. You swipe right anyway- another match. Too easy.

The stream continues without incident for a solid thirty minutes- all of your matches, expect a few that genuinely looked like normal dudes that really couldn’t write a decent bio to save their lives, had been blond hair blue eyed gym rats with ranging forms of misogyny. Some opened with asking for nudes out right, some asked about your day first before asking for nudes. You prefer the former. Straight to the point! You admire the gall. 

But then, down the forty-five minute mark a profile popped up that made you still by your phone, your smile dying as your eyes bulged. Dear God. Lord in heaven. Who is this demonspiit lookalike and why is he so fucking hot? The neck tats, the skateboard, the clothes- holy shit, you gotta close your mouth before some drool dribbles out.

No bio, just his name, Tyler, and that he’s 23.

“He boutta be 23 in me.” You mutter, swiping right with lightning speed.

WHAT DID SHE SAYYYYY?????????

tyler is y/ns karma for relentlessly mocking that one guy that had a whole ass list on what his “female” partner should be

^he deserved it and also tyler seems like a typical fuckboi y/n grow a braincell

look at mom 🥺 her eyes are sparkling

It wasn’t a match right away. You somehow expected as much, but it still upset you. Simp behavior, pathetic. The stream continued bravely, and when Tyler messaged you a simple “yo” you totally didn’t sequel. You didn’t manage to text him back on stream: texting all those guys that you didn’t really find all that attractive was easy, but this...You’re a sucker for a man who radiates red flag energy. His whole profile is a red flag. He might just be a red flag himself.

What can you do? Suddenly becoming color blind is not easy. Once the stream ends, you unmatch with everyone expect Tyler. He you chat with for a bit, but a sudden craving for different company makes you abandon him, too. You don’t feel too heartbroken for him- you’re certain there’s already too many girls in his dms. You wish them luck.

Happily, you delete Tinder. You go to Twitter, notice you’re trending again- look at you go! Queen shit- and as you compose a thank you tweet, something strange happens. You go to text Corpse, but when you click on his profile you grow cold.

YOU’RE BLOCKED. You can’t follow or see @/Corpse_Husband ‘s Tweets. 

...Pardon? You hop onto Instragram and-also blocked. Seriously? And you thought you’re one petty bitch. Corpse is seriously prissy about everything. Damn, if he didn’t like your stream, he could’ve just said so. Didn’t need to, like, block you from his internet existence. So not cool.

You try texting him but no text go through. Well how will you let him know you deleted Tinder just like he asked? You relieve your frustrations by punching your pillow a few times. Later, you apologize to her, you didn’t mean to hurt her, it’s not her, it’s you. Fuck, 5 minutes of exile and you’re already loosing your mind.

“Raeeeeeeeeeeee!” You whine loudly. It’s roughly 2am now, but you don’t care. You’re too heartbroken to care. There’s a thump from her room, but nothing else, “Raeeeeeeeee!!!” You wail, wallowing in self-pity on your bed. You hear a very loud, very annoyed sigh from her room, followed by angry marching. Your door is abruptly thrown open, and in the dim, colorful light you see her scowl.

“What?” She grits.

“Can you please tell Corpse to unblock me from everything?”

“What did you do now?”

“I made fun of men on Tinder.”

She pauses, “...That doesn’t sound so bad.” She surmises, voice laced with suspicion, “What else?”

“...There was one really hot guy that I kinda sorta talked to after--”

“Y/n.”

“-But I totally deleted Tinder and honestly he was pretty boring, so, like, uhm, please?”

She sighs, the servery of which implies she is holding the weight of the world on her shoulders, and instantly you know that you won. She taps away at her phone, “You owe me one.” She states, and before you can reply, she exits your room and slams the door behind her.

Grinning, you text his phone again. The message goes through, oh gosh, you’re so relieved you feel like crying. This has been, officially, the worst five minutes of your life.

You Y DID U BLOCK ME LOSER!!! MAJOR LOSER ALERT!! I DELETED EVERYTHING IT WAS A JOKE r u still mad at me? y u always mad at me i never do anything:(

my husband You’re my baby, how do you think I’ll react when I see you publicly simping for some asshole on Tinder?

Oh no, he used the words, he delivered the killing blow. You’re finished. Your heart can’t take such a workout. 

Not that you would ever admit it to him, though!

You hehe ur jellyyyy u always dis jealous hehe?

my husband Not jealous.

Yeah, you might not be the brightest tool in the shed, but even you know that’s a lie. You send him an array of kissy emojis that he doesn’t have the decency to reply to. Then, completely unprompted and dead serious, you send him a simple voice memo, saying: “You really have nothing to worry about, you know? You’re my favorite, Corpsie.”

He responds via text, reiterating that he’s not fucking jealous and that he just doesn’t like when you show such outward interest in anyone but it’s not like he cares or anything. It’s just really, like, weeeeird to see his baby simping for another man like that totally ruins the whole dynamic!!! It was only natural that he should block you on every social media platform, including his personal number (which, like, was completely necessary! Doesn’t matter that his viewers can’t see it, it’s gotta be super believable!), and inform his followers of that, because it’s all a joke, like, for the dynamic, that Youtube grind, you know? Ya dig? No personal feelings were involved at all. He totally wasn’t upset that you found someone else cute, no way!

my husband I’m not jealous. Lol.

You ik u repeated tht like 50 times  u trynna convince me or??? lmao

my husband No comment. ...You don’t actually talk to anyone else like we’re talking, right?

You no one else calls me their baby if thts wat ur wondering at least not to my knowledge lol im all urs

my husband That makes me very happy to hear:)

Yeah, it makes you very happy, too.

hope you liked it!! xx

[rehkkuma]

she's all yours | okuyasu x reader

summary: unlike his partner in crime, Okuyasu lacked experience in the dating field. Once he believes that he may have a chance with his crush, his best friend begins to get in the way.

words: 1.8k

disclaimers/tags: fem pronouns, modern AU (basically just phones being involved), tiny bit of angst, fluff, and cursing.

He was staring again. The poor 16-year-old boy couldn't help but notice every single detail about her: the slight tilt in her walk whenever she went up the stairs, how she would tie her shoes, and the unfortunate glint of light in her eyes whenever she spoke with his best friend.

Y/n L/n was someone extremely special to him (whether she knew it or not). She could read his expressions so clearly, sometimes knowing more about Okuyasu than Okuyasu did himself. The emotions he couldn't quite put his finger on, she always had an answer to. At times, he felt undeserving of the friendship he had with her. After coming to terms with his developing feelings for the girl, of course she began to get closer with his best friend.

He was painfully aware of the difference in treatment he received compared to Josuke. While Josuke could be referenced as Morioh's pretty-boy delinquent, Okuyasu was more like the intimidating ruffian that stood by his side. Obviously, Y/n did not think of Okuyasu in that way, but her perception of him didn't matter if he was considered nothing more than a friend.

"Hey," Josuke called out, concerned for his friend.

"Y-Yeah?" Okuyasu stuttered, trying to regain his thoughts.

"Whatcha lookin' at?"

Okuyasu silently thanked Y/n for standing in a crowd with other students. If she stood any further from the school's front entrance, it would've been easy for Josuke to pinpoint who he was eyeing.

"Nothing, really. Just thought I saw a cute girl."

Josuke shrugged his shoulders, repositioning himself so his back laid more comfortably against the tree. "Well, if you do see one, ask 'em out or somethin'. I wanna see you have your first kiss before we graduate," he chuckled.

"Mhm, yup," Okuyasu responded, eyes now glued to the grass he was sitting on. He was about to spew out a self-deprecating joke but stopped himself once he noticed Y/n approaching the two of them. Immediately, he recognized Josuke's energy shift from disinterest to eagerness.

"Y/n!" Josuke cheerfully said, waving at the girl.

"Hi, you two!" she waved back. Once coming close enough, she sat down along with the boys, her knees lacing together in a criss-cross position. Because of the short distance between her and Okuyasu, the boy could smell the flowery essence emitting off of her body. He wasn't too fond of fragrances, but the one Y/n had was light and sweet-- perfectly suiting her personality.

Before he knew it, Okuyasu was staring again. The only thing that got him to snap back into reality was the cry of laughter Y/n let out after Josuke made a funny remark.

"Did you hear that Okuyasu?" Y/n choked out, leaning back with both hands on her stomach.

"Y-Yeah." Okuyasu fake laughed, really having no clue what the hell was going on.

"God," Y/n sighed as she wiped off the faint tears forming in her eyes. "I wish I could hang out with you guys a bit longer, but I just wanted to drop by and say hi. I gotta help out with some chores tonight."

"It's all good," Josuke smiled. "But only if you promise to call me tonight."

The girl rolled her eyes while getting up from the ground. "We'll have to see about that, Jojo!" She then stuck her tongue out before scurrying off to her house.

Josuke chuckled, slowly placing his chin on the palm of his hand. "She's pretty cute, isn't she?" he said, eyes glued to the girl's figure in the distance.

"Yeah, she sure is."

* * *

Okuyasu could remember the first time he met her as clear as day: his hands were tucked deep into his pockets, feet dragging along the sidewalk while he was on his way to school. Unlike his regular routine, Josuke was unable to walk with him due to an argument breaking out between him and his mother. It seemed like a bummer at the moment, but maybe it was actually a blessing in disguise.

"Fuck!"

In front of Okuyasu's feet laid a girl. Her uniform was stained with a bright red juice and its can rolled next to her. He didn't recall exactly what happened, but he did feel someone's face hit his chest before hearing a thud.

"I didn't get any on you, did I?" the girl asked with panic.

Okuyasu, hands still in his pockets, shook his head. "Mnn. Don't think you did."

"Okay, thank God. These stains are so hard to get rid of."

That was one of the first things that Okuyasu remembered from Y/n. Her casual way of talking was enough to make any stranger feel like a good friend. Something about this girl piqued his interest.

"Guess it's not your first time, huh?" he hummed.

"You'd think I'd learn my lesson after the third time."

After the small accident, Okuyasu took the girl to the laundromat. Classes would begin in any minute, but neither one of the pair minded skipping it.

"Oi, what're you gonna be wearin' in the meantime? Don'tcha think the teacher's gonna kick your ass for showing up like that?" Okuyasu pointed at the revealing tank top she wore.

"Yeah, definitely. That's why you should totally let me borrow your top," she winked.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself. I don't even have a clue on what your name is."

"L/n." she replied crassly. "It's Y/n L/n."

That was several months ago. Since then, their relationship started to significantly grow. From sending short texts to sharing a few inside jokes, to hanging out every other day after school. In Okuyasu's eyes, it was inevitable for him to fall for a girl like her.

Right before he could spill about his crush to his best friend, Josuke had already introduced himself to her. It crushed Okuyasu to see the girl he loves slowly start to move on from him-- to his own best friend nevertheless.

All of his frustrations were best to be kept to himself. No way could he express his jealousy to Josuke or Y/n. Out of all the girls that fawned over Josuke, why did she have to be one of them?

**Brring**

Okuyasu rolled his body to the other side of his bed. On a nightstand was his phone that rang. The alarm was just loud enough to break through the pessimistic thoughts roaring through his brain.

"Who's this?" he asked, too lazy to check the contact number.

"It's me, Okuyasu! Why, is it that hard to use a second of your time to check the contact name?"

He recognized that voice anywhere. It was her.

"Aw, look. I was in bed, alright?" he smiled, feeling his mood change immediately after speaking with her.

A small giggle echoed from the other end of the phone. "Alright! I wasn't here to nag you all night anyways." The girl then cleared her throat with a cough before soon speaking again. "I was thinking we should hang out tomorrow. For ice cream, maybe. Just us."

Small butterflies began to form in his stomach from hearing the last sentence. "Just us" had never sounded better.

"Sounds good to me."

"Great!" she nearly interrupted. "A-Ah, sorry! I just got excited. It feels like we've been parting ways the past couple of weeks, but I promise tomorrow's gonna make up for it!"

"It's alright," Okuyasu sighed. "See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow!" she repeated.

* * *

Was it just Okuyasu or did she look way cuter today? The makeup she wore differed from the one she usually had on, her accessories managed to compliment her eyes even more, and she even put an effort into customizing her uniform like Josuke and Okuyasu despite expressing her laziness multiple times. She looked like an absolute doll.

"Hmph." She huffed. "You've been doing that a lot lately," she said flatly.

"Doing what?"

"Staring at me like I'm some crazy person."

Okuyasu internally panicked for a few seconds but composed himself. "You just look pretty lately, that's all."

He expected a cheeky comeback in return but was left with a bashful smile from her instead.

"Let's just hurry up and get ice cream..." she said, eyes faced to the ground.

Okuyasu nodded at her suggestion and began to walk, making sure his pace wasn't too fast for Y/n. He'd occasionally give a glance at her direction to know if he was walking at a comfortable speed for her.

Several minutes of walking and a few casual conversations later, the duo made it to the ice cream shop. Y/n ordered a mix of her two favourite flavours while Okuyasu ordered two scoops of mocha almond fudge. Feeling a bit more gentleman-like today, Okuyasu insisted on paying for the both of them.

"Thanks for the ice cream!" the girl said, taking a small lick of the cone. "I feel like the more I hang out with you, the more things I owe you back," she chuckled as the two left the shop.

"Don't sweat it. Hangin' out with you's enough for me." Okuyasu smiled.

"Ah, really?" she blushed. "That's... really sweet of you."

There she did it again. No witty comeback. Just a flustered reply.

"Somethin' up with you? Eat something bad today?" he asked.

"Hm?"

"You're just actin' a bit different, that's all. Not sayin' it's bad though. I kinda like it." Okuyasu continued to walk on the sidewalk but stopped once he realized Y/n was frozen still. "Hey, you comin'?"

Y/n began to slowly jog her way to Okuyasu. When she caught up with him, she paused once more, now looking into the young boy's eyes. "I feel like you don't hear yourself talk sometimes," she said. "I can't tell if you're flirting or you're just naturally this oblivious."

He didn't know how to respond. He was starting to get nervous from how close their faces were. If he wanted to, he could practically count each beauty mark on her face.

"Well?" she said.

"Well..." Okuyasu tried to come up with something but found himself paying more attention to the girl's lips. They looked plush and soft with a slight glossy coat from the ice cream.

Eventually, the girl noticed where he was looking at. Slowly, she closed the already small gap between the two.

"Okuyasu," she breathed out with a gentle tone. "I really like you."

"I-" he stuttered. "Not Josuke?"

"Josuke?" She covered her mouth with the back of her hand and chuckled. "I don't know what you think is going on between us, but it's not that. He's not exactly my type either."

Okuyasu couldn't believe what he was hearing. Before he could say anything back, he felt her lips against his right cheek. It was a delicate kiss. Maybe a bit sticky, but it made his heart do several backflips nevertheless.

Once her lips left his skin, she stood awkwardly in front of him. The way she looked up at his eyes with that lovestruck gaze made Okuyasu realize something he didn't before: he wouldn't need to jealous of other guys. It was clear that Y/n L/n was all his.

[stormcrawler75]

Bad Things Bingo request: Memory Loss with the Sides as a pantheon of gods.

Warnings: Memory Lost, description of scars, Virgil not having a good view of how he looks.

Notes: Dude, guys, I accidentally deleted the last few paragraphs and had to rewrite them. I finished this tonight out of spite.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil fucking hated snow.

There was no good thing about snow. Not one damn thing and Virgil was willing to stake his life on that claim. In fact, every good thing about Virgil’s life slowed to a stop when fall ended and the snow started to fall. Snow was cold, killed all of the crops that Virgil spent all year growing, and made travel into town a damn bitch. And, on top of everything else, it made the scars surrounding Virgil’s eyes and temples ache to no end. The only thing that helped with the aches and pains was the medicine that his friend Elliott sold. And where did Elliott sell the medicine?

All the way in town. So, yeah, Virgil hated snow.

He sighed as he climbed out of his bed, the cold from outside seeping into his bones. Virgil’s home was a small one-bedroom house with a small fireplace, a bed that he had pressed against two walls, small knickknacks and gifts placed on shelves that Virgil had built himself, and a small rug in front of the door to the outside. The fire that he had built the night before had gone out, with only glowing embers left in Virgil’s tiny fireplace now. The bowl with half of Virgil’s leftover dinner was left beside his bed, which Virgil immediately grab to slowly pick at.

Virgil glanced over at a small mirror on the wall that Elliott had given him, gently wiping at his eyes and trying his best to avoid his scars. There were deep and rough scars around Virgil’s eyes - as if someone had tried carving them out with a knife but never truly committed to the idea - and two identical thin, deep scars on each of his temples. Virgil’s nose was crooked like it had been broken many times before and one of his eyes didn’t open all the way. He wasn’t the prettiest man ever but, as Elliott had once said, he was just lucky to still be alive. Not that Virgil cared about the scars or how he looked. He honestly just wished that he remembered how he got the damn scars.

Or any part of his life before waking up in the town’s local Doctor’s office. He had woken up nearly five years ago with no memory. Elliott had found him on the outskirts of town, caught in a bright bronze net and left for dead, and had immediately brought him to the town’s Doctor. The town had been gracious enough to provide Virgil with a small house and some land to make a living off of. Virgil had been given far, far more than a poor, ugly man like him ever deserved and he had tried his best to pay the town back ever since. He gave deals to the town folks on his carrots and beets, he did odd jobs in the winter for half the price he charged for out of towners, and when the town announced that they would be making a temple for the God of Family and Safe Havens, Virgil went out and chopped down as many of his own trees that they would need.

Even if Virgil wasn’t sure what he thought about these Gods, he would give everything and anything to the people who had given him a home, their food, and the clothes off their back.

Though, it wasn’t like what he gave was anything special. Though the farmwork he did was hard and backbreaking, the corps flourished under Virgil’s hands. It wasn’t like he ever did anything special. He just did what every other farmer did. Maybe it was just that Virgil did what he loved. Waking up early and going out to work with his vegetables and his two little fruit trees were hard but Virgil loved it so much that anyone who happened to walk onto his land had a good chance of hearing him sing as he worked. As long as what he did made the town happy, Virgil was happy.

Virgil was startled from his thoughts from banging on his door, the excited voice of his best friend calling from outside, “Virgil! Virgil, wake up, wake up!” Virgil yawned shuffled over to the door, opening it with a tired smile. “Hey, Elli. What’s up?”

Elliott beamed at him and surged forward, grabbing Virgil’s arms and making him shiver from the snow and frost on their mittens. “It’s finished! The builders, you know the ones who said that they wouldn’t be able to finish until Spring? The mayor paid them double and they finished! The Temple is opening up tonight and they’re going to be putting out a feast!” They let go of Virgil, stumbling over to the spot on the floor where Virgil’s damp coat, mittens, and gloves had been dumped.

Virgil could only gawk at them, feeling like his brain was having trouble catching up to what Elliott was saying. “It’s finished?! How, when- I haven’t heard anything about the builders starting up again! When did this even happen?!”

“They worked through the night for the last month,” Elliott squealed, practically throwing Virgil’s winter wear at him. “And, dude, I can’t believe I’m even gonna be saying this,” Elliott took Virgil’s hands and said with forced calmness, “the God Patton himself might actually show up.”

Virgil swore that his heart stopped right then and there. Full on, dead stop. “A God?! What the hell are you talking about?! He’s coming here?!”

“It’s this new thing,” Elliott babbled, gesturing at the clothes in Virgil’s arms frantically until Virgil slowly started pulling them on. “It only started in the last few years and only in this country but, recently, whenever a Temple is built, whichever God the Temple is for shows up! They usually mingle for a bit and insist on looking around. I heard that even the God of Logic and all that other stuff showed up in a town a few days away about a month ago! He blessed the town’s teachers, looked around, and then left. People are thinking that the Gods are looking for something or something and that’s why they’re showing up everywhere!”

“Holy shit,” Virgil whispered, pulling his hat on hurriedly. “Holy shit, are you serious?! That’s fucking - we gotta check it out!” He grabbed his boots and practically jammed them on his feet. “We gotta get going now! If we head out now then we can make it to the town by lunchtime! Wait, no, we gotta get an offering! Do you have something to give him? I killed a deer yesterday and I still have its pelt so I’m covered but what about you!?”

Elliott grinned at him and flashed a bright pink ring on their left hand. “I’m good! My Grandma gave me this ring just in case something like this happened before she died years ago. Now come on! We can wait in my house until tonight but we gotta get going!”

Virgil laughed and grabbed Elliott’s hand, pulling them out of the small cabin. “You better have brought your horse and buggy because if I have to walk through all of this snow, I am going to lose it.”

“Of course I did,” Elliott laughed, climbing into the buggy. “And you know that that you could buy a horse of your own from old man Jerry. After you helped him and his wife with that problem they were having, they’d probably give you one for free!” They eyed Virgil’s rising blush with a grin. “And Miss Kitty would give you three buggies for how you helped her with her girlfriend. Heck, she’d give you a carriage!”

“It’s not my fault that I give good advice,” Virgil muttered, ducking his head and trying to get comfortable in his seat. “Besides, Miss Kitty and Jessica’s problem was easy. They just needed to talk, that’s all. I just pointed it out.” He batted Elliott’s arm when he saw them open their mouth to continue talking and - most definitely - continue talking about how Virgil kept getting when it came to giving advice about people’s love lives. “Shut up and get us to town, Elli!”

He ignored Elliott’s laugh and settled back as the horse started making its way back to town. Elliott was just overexaggerating. It wasn’t like Virgil went out looking for people who needed help with their love lives. Just... whenever Virgil was talking to people, the topic of love happened to come up a lot and people always seemed to ask for his advice. Virgil honestly had no idea if the advice he was giving was good, per se. It was just that Virgil seemed to know what he was talking about. People theorized that Virgil had been a Matchmaker before he had come to live here. Virgil wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Besides, it wasn’t just romantic things that people came to Virgil to ask advice on. Virgil had helped with the two orphan boys that had come from the city, the year-long fight that two local sisters were having, and a fight between two best friends. It seemed that Virgil was just good with advice. It wasn’t like it was anything special.

“So, all of the Gods have been showing up lately,” Virgil asked Elliott as the buggy went down the dirt road.

Elliott nodded but then paused. “Well, almost all of them. One of them hasn’t shown up recently. The God of Love and Beauty hasn’t appeared in almost five years now.” They shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I mean, I heard that he was super active before so he’s probably just taking a break. I heard that time passes really quickly for the Gods. I’m sure that he’ll be back sometime soon.

“I mean, what’s the other option? I mean, what kind of bad things can happen to a God?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Temple was beautiful.

Virgil knew that it was nothing compared to the Temples in cities or the Capital. He had heard rumours of those Temples being made from solid gold, with sparkling rubies and sapphires embedded in its walls, and rich offerings given by Kings and Queens stacked through the halls. Compared to those Temples, this little one was nothing. It was barely as big as the local schoolhouse with one room. From looking through the front window, Virgil thought that it looked more like a very cozy and comfortable family room than anything. There was a beautiful fireplace roaring with fire, beds pushed up against the walls, and food stacked on the table. Virgil’s offering of a deer’s pelt was lying on a table along with several others.

“I can’t believe that this is the new Temple,” Virgil whispered to Elliott, both of their eyes wide with wonder. The two of them were at the front of a large crowd in front of the Temple, waiting for entrance. This whole thing was so exciting that Virgil was barely aware of the dull sting from the wind hitting his scars. “I mean, it’s great but it’s... not what I thought it’d look like.” While it might not be what they were expecting, it was still the most wonderful place that either of them had ever seen.

Elliott grinned at him, bouncing up and down in excitement. “Me neither but this is the God of Family and Safe Havens. I bet that this Temple would look a lot different if this was a Temple for the God of Beauty and Love or for the God of Self Preservation. I hear that the God Patton lets people use his Temples as Safe Havens, just like the God Janus.” They gasped when a soft, warm blue light glowed from the inside of the house, bathing everything inside with its light. “Oh my gosh,” they whispered, gripping Virgil’s arm tightly. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe this, I can’t believe this! He’s actually coming, he’s actually showing up!”

The crowd of people immediately quieted and no one made a single sound. Virgil could’ve dropped a pin and it would’ve been the loudest sound in the entire town. Slowly, the light coming from the Temple died down. Though, and maybe this was just Virgil seeing things, the inside of the Temple seemed warmer somehow. It seemed homier. And the large man standing in the, just minutes before empty, Temple seemed completely right there.

Virgil watched through the front window with wide eyes as the man slowly looked around. He was huge, almost six feet, with curly blond hair and big round glasses that were perched on top of a small bottom nose, covering big blue eyes. There were freckles on each and every inch of the man’s skin and there were laugh lines around his eyes. He was wearing comfortable clothes and had the air of a person that you could trust. The kind of person that you would run to if you had a problem or no one else you could turn to. He looked... like a Dad.

He looked familiar.

The God slowly walked through the Temple with a small smile, gently touching the walls and taking a minute to look at the food. Virgil watched him kneel by the fireplace and gently stroke it for a few seconds, glowing embers jumping from the fire and onto the God’s skin only for the God to brush them from his skin with no sign of injury. And Virgil watched as, slowly, the God stood and made his way to the door leading outside to the crowd waiting outside.

Virgil hurried to kneel with the rest of the town, breath catching at the God stepped outside. Most, including Elliott, had their heads bowed respectfully but Virgil could only gawk dumbly as the God looked out at them with a smile. For almost a second there, it looked like he was looking for something and he had to hold back his disappointment when he didn’t find it. But he kept a smile firmly on his face as he went back to looking through the crowd. He had just opened his mouth to say something when his gaze landed on Virgil’s ugly scarred face. Virgil felt a pit of terror settle into him as the God’s face went from gratitude and forced happiness to an expression that Virgil didn’t have the time to fully understand at before the God was almost running at him.

“Vergilius!”

The crowd scrambled away from Virgil, Elliott being pulled from him from someone, and Virgil felt frozen as the God landed in front of him. Distantly, in the back of Virgil’s mind, he remembered a mean rumour that had circulated when Virgil had first been found. That Virgil had somehow offended a God and, in punishment, the Gods had scarred him and stolen his memory. Virgil had never believed these rumours but now, Virgil thought that it might be true. And if they had stolen Virgil’s memory the first time, Virgil found that he was utterly terrified to discover what they might take this time.

Virgil jumped as large, calloused but gentle hands cupped his cheeks, tilting his head up so he was staring right in the watery eyes of the God of Family and Safe Havens. The God’s glasses were slightly crooked and had slid down right down to the edge of his nose. Tears were making their way down his cheeks and the God’s lips were turned up in a bright, slight disbelieving but so relieved grin. The God was rubbing a thumb into Virgil’s cheek gently while the other was hovering frantically around Virgil like it didn’t know where exactly it should settle. “Oh, Vergilius,” the God whispered, voice cracking. “Oh, you’re here. You’re safe.”

“Vergilius?”

“As in the God Vergilius?!”

“The God of Love and Beauty!?”

“Virgil, our Virgil?”

“What is a God doing living in a cabin on the edge of a poor little town?”

“I,” Virgil licked his suddenly dry lips, staring at the God in confusion and a bit of fear, “my name is Virgil. I’m sorry but, I think I you got the wrong person. I’m, I’m not,” his words trailed away from him, not sure what to say. He found himself leaning into the God’s hand and had to jerk away. Had to jerk away from the feeling of ‘finally-I’m-finally-home-I-was-so-scared-but-I’m-home-and-I-was-so-scared-but-I-knew-that-you’d-find-me’.

The God laughed, but it sounded more confused than anything. “Kiddo, Vergilius, what are you talking about? Oh, Sweetheart, what happened?” Virgil’s breath caught as one of the God’s huge fingers gently brushed against one of the scars surrounding his eyes. “Who did this to you,” the God asked, his voice darkening and full of power. He looked up and he seemed like a God for the first time since he had arrived as he demanded, “Did these Mortals do this to you?!”

Almost a full year ago, Elliott had told Virgil that there was a reason that Patton was the God of both Families and Safe Havens. Because no one would dare step into one of the God’s Safe Havens and try to hurt someone who had hidden there. Because those who stayed there were the God’s family and no one would risk Patton’s wrath. Virgil hadn’t been completely convinced if Elliott wasn’t exaggerating back then, of the God’s terrible wrath on those who had hurt those who he had deemed family.

But now, as the ground started to shake and the sun started to burn impossibly bright, Virgil knew that Elliott had been under-exaggerating.

“Wait,” Virgil cried, lurching forward and grabbing Patton’s arm desperately just as the God had started to rise. “Please, don’t hurt them! They saved me, they didn’t hurt me,” he pleaded. “Please, please don’t hurt them, please.”

The God stared down at Virgil, one hand still cupping his cheek. “You’re sure,” he asked softly, the shaking ground slowly calming and the sun’s harsh beams dimming slightly. “Are you sure, Sweetheart? They’ve helped you?”

“They found me in a bronze net,” Virgil babbled, keeping a tight grip on Patton’s arm like he could single-handedly stop the God if he tried anything. “Elliott did. They found me without my memories and brought me to a Doctor and healed me. They gave me a house and land and fruit trees and seeds and they never hurt me, I promise, I swear!” His chest was burning with the love he had for this small town and the people in it and he was honestly afraid that his chest would burst from just how much of it there was.

There was a long pause before the God slowly pulled Virgil up until he was standing, paying attention only to Virgil and giving none of it to the townfolks watching with bated breath. Both of Patton’s hands cupped Virgil’s cheeks and he asked softly, voice almost unhearable, “Do you know who I am, Kiddo? Do you remember me?”

Virgil blinked and the tears that had been building during his frantic plea starting slowly trickling down his face. “You’re Patton,” he whispered softly, “the God of Families and Safe Havens. The Creator of Janus, the God of Self Preservation and, and a lot of other things. The Father of the Council of Gods.” He let out a shaky breath as the God bowed his head, letting his forehead rest on Virgil’s. “Am... am I wrong?”

The God let out a shaky, pained laugh. “No, Kiddo. No, you’re not wrong.” He looked up at the pale, terrified Mayor and gave him a wobbly smile “Thank you for the Temple. It’s beautiful. I love it.” He turned back to Virgil and gently petted his hair. “I need you to come with me, okay Darling? I know this is all probably very scary and overwhelming for you but I need you to be brave, okay?”

“You... you won’t hurt them,” Virgil asked shakily, looking over his shoulder at the townsfolk. Even though they looked terrified, many of them managed to give Virgil weak and encouraging smiles. One of them, an older lady named Miss Julia, looked like the only reason she wasn’t beating Patton away with her cane was her partner, Hannah, gripping onto her arm tightly. “Right? They protected me. You promise you won’t hurt them?”

The God smiled at him gently, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. “I promise, Sweetheart.” And, with that, Virgil was pulled into a gentle hug and his face was gently pushed into the God’s shoulder so he couldn’t see what was happening. Virgil was about to pull away, terrified that he’d look back to see that his town had been wiped off the map, but he found himself falling limp into the God’s arm when a warm, safe feeling flooded into him and the ground was whisked out from under him. The harsh winter wind disappeared and, for one brief moment, there was only Virgil and the God.

And then, Virgil stumbled as a floor reappeared under his feet. Even without looking, Virgil knew that it was the most expensive floor that he could remember standing on. It was smooth and felt like it had been freshly waxed. He pulled back away from Patton and looked around, eyes widening. Now, this was a Temple.

They were in a large room that wouldn’t look out of place as a King’s throne room. Nine empty thrones were placed around the room, all of them looking completely different from each other. And, for some reason, Virgil felt drawn toward the smallest, almost dainty looking one on the far left side of the room. Like it was meant to be his.

“Does this room seem similar to you at all,” the God asked gently, keeping one hand on Virgil’s shoulder. He seemed to deflate a little when Virgil shook his head. “Okay, that's okay, Kiddo. Now, I want you to wait here, okay Hon? I’m going to get our friends and we can talk this whole thing out.” He leaned forward and gave Virgil a gentle kiss on his forehead before leaving the throne room and leaving Virgil alone.

Virgil swallowed and looked around slowly, trying his best to get his bearings. The room was gorgeous but his eyes kept getting drawn to the small, purple and black throne. It was deceptively dainty looking almost like the throne of a Queen that Virgil had seen once in a book Elliott had given him. But, even from halfway across the room, Virgil could see that the metal was sharp and there were two small, detachable knives on the arms of the throne that would’ve been perfect if the person sitting there suddenly needed something to throw. And there was a power simply radiating from the throne, like if the wrong person sat in it then they’d simply cease to exist.

It was beautiful.

There was a sudden flurry of noise and Virgil spun around, tensing up defensively. The noise was coming from a doorway and Virgil could hear one voice rising above all the others, “You can’t be serious, Patton! He’s been in a dirt poor farm town this entire time?!” There was the soft of Patton answering back, though Virgil couldn’t make out exactly what he said, and the same voice from before snapped back, “No way! Vergilius wouldn’t stay away from us, we’re his family! Whoever you brought back is an imposter, it has to be!”

Virgil stepped forward nervously, walking up to the doorway and standing right beside it but still not be seen. A new voice jumped in, low and suave. “We don’t know that, Roman. We should meet him, just in case it really is Vergilius!”

“But what if this is some evil monster who tries to put us under his spell?!”

“Roman - hes’s not a monster!”

Virgil jumped at a new voice snapped out, “Enough!” Roman, Remus, Emile, Remy, you four stay here. Myself, Patton, and Janus will meet with... whoever Patton has brought here.”

“It’s Vergilius,” Patton cried, sounding close to tears. “Logan, I promise-”

“I know, Patton, I know. We’re just going to check that this is Vergilius for certain, okay Sweetling? And if this truly is Vergilius, we’ll want to make sure that he’s okay first before bombarding him all at once. This is just to be safe.”

“And if this is an imposter, then me and Roman will stab him to death and push him into a vat of boiling poison!”

“For once, I agree with my brother.”

Virgil felt a cold stab of fear before it was overwhelmed with the feeling of hot, harsh anger. He was basically dragged here, taken from his home because apparently, some God thought that he was the God of Love and Beauty - fucking ridiculous - and now some other God decided that if he didn’t look enough like this missing God than they were going to be taking Virgil’s life as punishment. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Before Virgil even knew what he was doing, he was already halfway through the door and spitting out, “Well I fucking don’t!”

The hallway was filled with eight people, all who turned at the sound of Virgil’s voice, but Virgil turned all of his attention to the one with a sword drawn and glaring daggers at Virgil. He didn’t half to be a genius to know that this was the guy who had called him an imposter and jumped right on board with the ‘Killing Virgil’ plan. Virgil decided that he didn’t like this guy.

The guy - he had to be God - puffed up and stalked up to Virgil, baring his teeth at him. “How dare you wear the face of my friend, you imposter!”

“I’m not a fucking imposter and I’m not your fucking friend,” Virgil snapped, planting his feet and glaring up at him. The God glared right back at him with bright red eyes, gripping his sword so tightly that his knuckles were turning bright white. “So don’t go yelling at me!” He pushed at the God’s sword arm so hard that the God nearly dropped his weapon.

There was a moment of tense silence before one of the others cleared their voice, stepped forward with a raised finger and said, “Just so you all know, I’m on Pattycake’s side. That is definitely Vergilius.” They stepped back with a smirk as the God with the sword turned his glare at him. “Hey, just saying, Roman.”

The God - Roman - huffed and turned his snarl back to Virgil. “I don’t care what you say, Remy. I know Verglius and he wouldn’t hide out in some random town while we’re all looking for him!”

“My name isn’t Vergilius,” Virgil snapped, feeling the urge to stop his foot. “It’s Virgil! I don’t know any of you guys and my name is Virgil!”

Roman spread his arm and nodded firmly. “See!? Even the Mortal agrees! This was just a mistake.” He sheathed his sword and offered Virgil his arm with a sharp smile. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll escort you back to your home and we can go back to looking for the real Vergilius.”

“Wait,” Patton cried, stepping forward and shoving himself between Virgil and Roman. “Roman, I know that this is Vergilius, I just know it! He told me that he had no memories, he told me this! Logan,” he turned to a short man who was staring at Virgil with dark narrowed eyes, “Logan, you believe me, don’t you?”

“...He does bear an uncanny resemblance to Vergilius,” Logan hummed, stroking his chin with thin, boney fingers. “And if he did indeed lose his memories than that would explain why Vergilius never sent word and how he gained those scars. Though, we have had many imposters in the last five years that you were also sure was Vergilius, Patton,” he continued gently.

“It’s Virgil,” Virgil said sharply, straightening up and glaring at the God.

Logan sighed in frustration and opened his mouth but was cut off by that same suave voice from before. “Well, then, there really is a simple way of solving this, isn’t there?” Virgil turned to look at who was talking and froze.

Staring back at him was a man with sharp golden eyes and bright green scales going down the left half of his face, staring down at Virgil with an unreadable expression. He tilted his head and said smoothly with a shrug, “Make him sit in Vergilius’ chair.”

One of the Gods who hadn’t spoken yet - a God who looked very similar to Patton but with bright pink and blue eyes, long brown hair instead of blond, and an outfit that wouldn’t look out of place on a scholar - stepped forward with a frown. “But, Janus, that’s not fair to the Mortal! Patton brought him here, he didn’t come here claiming to be Vergilius! If it turns out that he isn’t Vergilius then the power will overwhelm him and -”

“Wait,” Virgil cried, throwing his hands up in the air. He tilted his chin up and glared at the intimidating God, Janus. “Sitting in that chair will prove whether or not I’m this Vergilius?” Janus had barely nodded before Virgil was turning back to the throne room to sit in the stupid damn chair so he could go back to his farm and sleep until fucking spring.

But Janus’ hand snapped out and grabbed Virgil’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “As a favour to Emile here,” he said, nodding at the God with pink and blue eyes, “I will warn you to what the chair will do if you’re not Vergilius.” His lips quirked up. “Unless you’d like to just charge in and sit in it without knowing.”

Virgil wanted to scream, he really did. He could be told what would happen if he wasn’t Vergilius - which judging from what Emile had been saying was probably nothing good - and lose his nerve. Which might just prove to these Gods that he was an imposter and Virgil would be in for a world of pain. Or he would just go in to sit on the throne and damn the consequences.

Virgil blamed the decision he made next on how angry he currently was. There was no way for any anxiety or common sense to peek out and make Virgil nervous enough to take a second and really think about what he was about to do. Before he could fully think about what he was doing, Virgil ripped his wrist away from the smirking God and turned back to the Throne Room, stomping across the hall and ignoring the calls of Patton and Emile to wait and let them explain first before trying it.

Instead, he hoisted himself upon the Throne and sat back, closing his eyes.

It was the most comfortable chair ever. It was like someone had studied Virgil’s body and had shaped the Throne around him. The pillow on the throne felt like it was stuffed full of duck feathers and was made out of velvet. Velvet. Virgil had never even seen velvet before. It was the most comfortable Throne in the history of Thrones. Virgil didn’t know how he knew that and he wasn’t going to think on too closely.

“Okay, so, I sat in the stupid chair,” Virgil groaned as he leant forward. As sad as he was to get out of the Throne, he really wanted to go home and check-in with the rest of the townsfolk. “Can I go home now?” He froze though when he opened his eyes and saw all eight Gods standing around him and watching him with various expressions on their faces.

“I knew it,” Patton whispered a large grin on his face and tears gathering in his eyes. “I knew it.”

Roman was staring at Virgil in numb shock, tears running down his cheek. “Oh... you’re really him,” he whispered. His hand twitched like he wanted to pull Virgil into a hug but he couldn’t commit to the action. “Vergilius.”

Virgil twitched backward, leaning back into the throne. “No, I told you. My name’s Virgil. I’m not -”

“You are,” Janus said, stepping forward. He was smiling at Virgil with tears in his eyes, looking so happy and relieved. “That throne was made specifically for Vergilius and your atoms would’ve melted if you weren’t truly Vergilius. Even if you don’t remember your life as Vergilius or don’t remember us, you are our Vergilius.” His smile grew into a large grin. “Oh, Dear One, I’m so happy that you’re safe.”

Virgil blinked dumbly, feeling like everything he knew had just been turned upside down and nothing made sense anymore. He didn’t want to believe it. He just wanted to go back home, visit with Elliott, and then sleep in his own bed. He didn’t want to believe it.

But he did.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered, tears of confusion pricking at his eyes. “If I... if I really am Vergilius... then what happened? How did... where... What happened?”

Janus pulled Virgil into a tight hug, holding him so tightly like he was terrified that if he let go than Virgil would disappear. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t. But we’re going to find out. And until we do, we’re never going to let something like this happen again. I promise.”

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[url-is-url]

Can you please talk more about valerie red huntress symbiote au ? Just general thoughts on how it would work ? I know barely anything about Venom but imagine valerie would get the symbiote from Axion Labs.

OH GOD OH NO OH GOD OH NO I DIDN'T MEAN FOR THIS TO BE AN AU I JUST WANTED TO DUNK ON BUTCH HARTMAN AND HIS PLAGIARIZING HABIT AND MY VENOM OBSESSION

First of all: I will be referring to the symbiote as Venom, a la movie canon, because I have a deep and passionate loathing for the past three years of Venom comic canon, do not get me started on this because I will not be able to stop.

Okay firstly: YES Venom totally comes from Axion Labs. I have not watched Danny Phantom since it was actually airing so I'm definitely checking the ole wiki as I write this but apparently Axion Labs was its own thing and then VladCo bought it? Idk how Venom got to Axion Labs, but it got there and the scientists were like "idk wtf to do with this" and just sorta. Put it in a drawer with a label that says "weird space goo" and forgot about it. (That is VERY MUCH a thing that happens in science labs you would not BELIEVE the shit you can run into if you start poking around old storage objects in labs.) And then VladCo buys Axion, and Intern Valerie is helping organize things and she finds the jar of lost space goo. Idk what happens after that; maybe she determines it's some flavor of alive and passes it to Vlad under the assumption that it's a Weird Space Ghost, maybe she drops it and Venom escapes and bonds with her. I don't know, the details of how they get together aren't important IMO, the important part is the interactions between symbiote and host.

Valerie is still in high school and this is very important to me. Depending on what you do and don't consider canon, Venom is between several thousand and six hundred million years old. Depending on what you do and don't consider canon, Venom has BEEN TO EARTH BEFORE! I am of the opinion that Venom is actually extremely knowledgeable about physics and chemistry and other like, not-Earth-specific things, because they're old as balls. So imagine you're in high school and you're in AP World learning about the Vikings, and you hear this bass-ass voice in your head go actually it wasn't like that at all and suddenly you're RELIVING some other creature's memories of fighting Vikings. Or you're in high school and you're in biology watching a video about octopus camouflage and this voice in your head goes we can do that too and your arm turns "invisible". Imagine you're on your period and you ran out of Advil and you think to yourself "I swear to god if this lunch line doesn't move faster I'm gonna eat the kid in front of me" and the voice in your head goes no, eat the one behind you, he looks juicier LIKE WHAT THE FUCK

Valerie and Venom get together way after Danny becomes Phantom. So Valerie has this huge crush on Danny, but then she also hates Phantom's guts. Venom has senses that humans don't so they can tell that Fenton is Phantom, and Venom regrets their life choices re:bonding with a human, because oh no, these bald apes are so fucking stupid. Every day Venom considers informing Valerie about the secret identity thing. Every day Venom remembers that Phantom's ghostly wail is extremely deadly to them specifically. Every day Venom does not tell Valerie about the secret identity thing.

Most of town is probably at least a little convinced that the huntress is some sort of weirdass ghost, because humans aren't that big. I headcanon Valerie as being short but muscular as hell, around 5'4". Venomized Valerie? Pushing 7' and built like Athena. People assuming she's a weirdass ghost pisses Valerie off SO MUCH, and it pisses Venom off too though for different reasons (I AM TAKING VERY GOOD CARE OF MY HOST SHE IS ONE HUNDRED PERCENT ALIVE I AM INSULTED BY YOUR INSINUATIONS THAT SHE IS IN ANY WAY DECEASED)

Oh hey wait, if Venom can tell the Dannys are the same person, Venom can also tell that the Vlads are the same person. Vlad has never demonstrated anything along the lines of a ghostly wail, so his secret identity is NOT safe and Venom tells Valerie what's what. Valerie is so disturbed, but then she decides to give Vlad the Homophobic Rich Grandpa treatment and pretends to go along with what he wants so she can get that sweet sweet tech, then she turns right around and does whatever she wants when he's not looking. Maybe Venom (as in the big lady) and Red Huntress are assumed to be two different people because Valerie works for Vlad as Red but then does her own stuff as Venom?

Carnage. Oh god, Carnage. So, the Carnage symbiote (often referred to as Red, I love a coinkydink) is Venom's offspring. In the comics, it is possible for a host to experience sympathetic morning sickness and shit in advance of the symbiote spawning. Please imagine you're in high school in a small town, and you are nauseous as fuck and having weird dreams and cannot eat enough chocolate (chocolate is a good source of phenylthylamine, which is a neurotransmitter that symbiotes need to eat) and one of your shitty high school friends goes "omg are you PREGNANT" and you know that whatever you say, everybody in the universe is gonna hear it. You've never had sex in your life but you still have a moment of panic like OH GOD AM I THE NEXT VIRGIN MARY SHIT and then your body roommate is like actually, this one's on me. DO YOU LOSE YOUR WHOLE GODDAMN MIND OR DO YOU LOSE YOUR WHOLE GODDAMN MIND. "wait Venom I thought you were a guy" "why would you think that i have a concept of gender" "...your voice is deep?" "humans are so fucking stupid"

The big weaknesses of symbiotes are fire and certain frequencies of sound. Venom is scared shitless of Ember McClain, send tweet.

There's a re-appearing ghost who hosted Venom when they were alive. This could be a canon character or an OC. Either way, the interactions maximally play up the "awkward ex" thing.

A better source of the phenylthylamine Venom needs to live is BRAINS. This is now a ghost hunger AU also and Valerie catches Phantom noshing on like, a ghost deer or something. Cue Venom SEE IF HE CAN DO IT WHY CAN'T WE

Hey Venom's an alien who is old as balls, it's called the INFINITE REALMS, there's probably LOTS of alien ghosts with opinions about symbiotes

One day Phantom gets hurt really badly and Valerie feels bad enough to go save his ass (if only because the only person that gets to kill Phantom is HER tyvm). Venom is very Exasperated Parent about all of these fool human children so they just. Pick him up by the scruff like a disgruntled kitten and drag him to safety.

Venom has a very, very low opinion of the Doctors Fenton. Venom knows one (1) thing about humans and that is Protecc The Children and these morons are continuously shooting at their own child. The only reason Venom has not eaten them is because a) Valerie insists that humans are off menu and b) Danny's ghostly wail is scary. Also the only competent ghost hunters in this town seem to be Sam, Tucker, Danny, Jazz, and Valerie. Valerie why are the only competent people in this town children. "i wish i FUCKIN KNEW"

I'm now headcanoning that Valerie has a Very Southern grandma or auntie just to have an excuse for Venom to learn Very Southern expressions. Please imagine doing something stupid and the alien that lives in your brain stem just goes "oh bless your heart". Please imagine that some asshole yoinked the whole town into the Ghost Zone again and the alien that lives in your brain stem is like "dear jesus give me patience" I just think that would be funny.

[justimagineitblog]

“You Used To Love Me” Michael Gray Fan Fiction - Chapter 11

A/N: Here it is!!! Okay so I do have an apology to make - I’ve had lots of beautiful amazing people asking when this chapter was coming, and although I know it has only been 4 or 5 days since I uploaded Chapter 10, I hate leaving you guys hanging. And I am so blessed to have people enjoy this series enough to ask for it - it’s mind blowing to me! I’m putting a lot of pressure on these final few chapters because I want them to be perfect and end the series right, and so that does mean I kind of get stuck in a weird writers block because I’m so hard on myself! 

But ANYWAYSSS..... here it is.... I hope you all enjoy it... by order of the peaky fookin blinders xxxx

Michael keeps me in his arms all the way until Bill’s body is dragged away and the private family doctor has arrived. His grip never loosens. Never falters.

When the doctor arrives, asking to check me over for concussions and any other injuries from being thrashed around, Michael basically has to tear himself of me.

“You sure you’re okay?” He breathes, holding onto me nervously. The way he holds me is protective, I can practically feel it radiating off him like heat.

“I’m okay, I’m okay” I coo, trying to calm some of the panic that is stubbornly clinging onto him. Bill is gone now. I’m safe. I’m alive. But it’s almost like Michael doesn’t quite believe that. Or maybe he doesn’t believe that I’m in his arms again. And honestly, I don’t blame him. Part of me can’t even tell if I have a concussion or if I’m just in shock from feeling his touch for the first time in a long time.

Reluctantly he slowly lets me out of his grip, helping me into the chair. But even then he still doesn’t let go completely, keeping his hand on my arm.

“Alright let’s take a look” the doctor begins, pulling out a light to check my eye movements.

I feel Michael crouch down beside me, squeezing my arm in reassurance. Though I’m not sure who he is reassuring more - me or himself.

The room is spinning, and I focus my hardest on not falling straight off the chair as the doctor asks me to follow his finger as he waves it in front of my face.

Next to me Michael has begun bouncing his leg impatiently - something he always used to do when he was nervous. I always used to put my hand on his thigh, and it would stop, disappearing under my touch. Slowly, I reach my arm out to him, and put my palm over his knee. Maybe it’s just a reflex now. Something I don’t even think about. My body and brain just know what to do and they do it without even thinking.

I feel his knee steady, slowing all the way to a halt. But underneath my hand I can almost feel the all the pent up, panic ridden energy coursing through him. Like buzzing of electrical wires.

“Well what’s going on? Is she okay?” He demands the doctor, urging him to hurry up.

The doctor hums, giving me a final once over before stepping away from me.

“Not a concussion, nothing serious” he concludes.

Michael lets out a sigh of relief so loud and harsh it almost sounds like a sob.

“But you have been shaken up. A lot” he tells me “You’ve taken quite a beating. You’re going to be sore. You’re going to be coming down of a lot of shock and adrenaline. Do you live with someone Izzy?”

“No, I live alone in my apartment” I rub at my throat, not realising how strained and hoarse it feels to speak. I didn’t realise how hard he had been choking me.

“Well look I think it’s best if someone stays with you tonight, just incase, alright?”

“You can stay with us Izzy-“ Polly begins, but Michael’s voice cuts in urgently as he speaks over the top of her.

“I’ll do it” Michael’s voice cuts in abruptly, and I shoot my head towards him in shock. Unsure if it was from the movement or the fact that he just offered to stay and look after me tonight, but the room starts to spin again.

“No, Michael-” I try to shake my head, to decline his offer, but that only makes the dizziness it worse

“Izzy” he breathes, trying to insist without being too firm with me, sensing that I’m feeling weak “It’s okay, I’ll do it”

He locks his eyes on mine, wide and genuine as he tries to insist that he isn’t going anywhere. That he’s got me. Reassuring me in the way his words can’t. The feeling is bittersweet. That the man who broke my heart into two is here in front of me now desperately trying to mend it. That the man who broke me is in front me now desperately trying to protect me.

“Let’s get you up, see if you can walk” the doctor walks back over to me, holding out his arms to help me up. Michael jumps up immediately, practically pushing the doctor out of the way as he holds his arms out to me to hold onto like railings to steady myself.

I push myself up of the chair, expecting to fall in a heap back onto the floor but much to my relief I stay standing, my body regaining some kind of strength although it is aching and sore.

“There you go” he coos softly at me.

Tommy, Arthur and Michael all help me clamber my stiff and aching body in the car, Michael rushing around to the drivers side to drive me home. We are silent the whole way to my apartment, but every few seconds Michael glances over at me to check I’m still okay.

Getting my my flights of stairs are the next hurdle.

“Alright just hold on me yeah, we’ll go slow” he reassures me.

Taking a deep breath, I cling one hand onto the stairway railing and the other onto his arm. He takes every slow step with me. Never rushing me. Never taking his worried eyes off me the entire time.

“You’re almost there” he encourages me as we make the final steps, getting closer to my apartment door.

“Did the doctor say anything about not being able to drink whiskey?” I mutter through a painful grimace “Cause I think I need one”

“I won’t tell him if you don’t” he chuckles at me.  

“You better not” I smirk back at him.

When we get inside I’m desperate to get out of my stupid tight dress. Every time the goddamn thing rubs against my bruising back and ribs it makes me want to tear the thing clean off.

“Alright I’m here, thank you” I smile at him as he helps me through my apartment and into my bedroom.

“Izzy, you’re getting rid of me”

I sigh. God knows I want to spend every moment with Michael. But I’m exhausted. Mentally and physically. I don’t know how I can handle being around him for the night when I know tomorrow he’s going to leave and go back to Gina and life will carry on as normal.

But the look on his face tells me he’s right - I’m not getting rid of him anytime soon.

“Fine” I submit, walking over to my closet as I pull out my nightgown. Expecting him to have taken the signal and left the room, I try to wriggle of my dress but fail. My body feels about as flexible as a plank of wood right now.

“Fuck this fucking dress” I hiss under my breath.

“Let me help you” Michael’s voice interrupts suddenly.

“What, no” I step away from him in shock, my brows furrowed.

He opens his mouth, pausing awkwardly as he realises that he basically just offered to help me change out of my clothes. To see me naked.

“Izzy, it’s okay, I’ve seen you…“ he looks away to the corner of the room as he insinuates that he’s seen me naked before. I feel my skin flushing hotly, as does Michael’s.

“That was… before“ I blush furiously at the thought. All of this is so bizarre to me. So foreign. When we were together, Michael and I used to potter around the house naked in front of one another all the time. He new every inch of my body and I knew his. Now the thought of being naked in front of him makes me feel stripped bare and vulnerable in the worst way possible. I never thought I would ever have to feel that way around him. Never in my wildest dreams or worst nightmares.

I shake my head at him, and he digresses quickly, realising he’s over stepped a mark that he didn’t even mean to. He turns to face the other direction, walking to the other side of the room momentarily to give me privacy while I change.

Or at least while I try to. My back is tender and sore. As I try to pull off my dress and slide on my night gown, every movement sends pains shooting all through my back, neck, ribs and head.

“Fuck” I hiss, unable to hide the fact that I’m in a lot of pain and to be honest, I do need his help.

Hearing me struggle, cursing in pain, I feel Michael rush over to me.

“Izzy, here just let me help alright” he holds my shoulders.

I sigh. I know I need it. I know I need his help.

“Look” he begins “I’ll shut my eyes okay”

I roll my eyes, my head falling back “Michael don’t be stupid-“

“I’m serious” he insists, suddenly squeezing his eyes shut “See”

I stare up at him. He really is serious. Most men wouldn’t even bother. But he does. He doesn’t want to see me naked. He just wants to help. Maybe make up for all the damage he’s done in whatever small way he can.

When I don’t protest, I feel his hands reach for my dress. With his eyes still clamped shut, proving that he can’t see anything, he begins to slide the fabric up over my body. If my heart wasn’t completely racing and pounding in my chest itself, I could have sworn that I felt his hands shaking. Every inch that the fabric glides up my body is painfully slow as it exposes my naked skin. The only thing to be heard in the room is our shaky breaths brushing on one another faces. Mine begins to quicken as the reality of the fact that Michael is here in my bedroom, undressing me, begins to set in. His hands are so close to my skin but they never fully touch, and I can feel that buzzing energy radiating off of him once again. I’m sure he can feel it radiating of me too. Michael lifts the dress up over my head and raised arms, leaving me completely naked. The tension is thick and heavy, weighing down on us like wading through water.

He drops it to the floor, and I watch him wearily as I pick up my night gown and hand it to him. I wait for him to open his eyes. But he never does. He keeps them closed firmly. He takes the nightgown, holding it open for me to step in to.

I hold onto his shoulders, steadying myself as I step inside the fabric, one leg at a time.

“How you going down there?” He asks, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Surviving” I reply, unable to stop myself from giggling nervously as the tension has made me giddy. He returns the gesture with his own little laugh. It feels like we’re two stupid teenagers who are undressing each other for the first time.

Once I’m in the nightgown, he slides the straps up over my arms, the skin of his palm accidentally brushing against me. I feel myself twitch beneath the feeling of his bare skin on mine, like an electric shock.

I exhale in relief once I realise that I’m fully dressed again.

“You can open them now” I coo as we stand only inches away from each other.

When those Tenerife blue eyes open into mine, his eye lashes fluttering until they’re peering at me fully, my heart skips so many beats in a row I’m surprised I don’t pass out right there. I haven’t look into his eyes this close in a long time. I haven’t been this close to him in general in a long time. We stay dead silent, words would never do justice for what is circulating between us right now, so we just search for the answers in each others eyes instead. The only thing that draws me away from his gaze is when I notice his freckles. I wonder what he’s noticing about my face. What he missed the most. If he missed anything at all. Is he counting the smile lines around my eyes. Around my mouth. Does he know that he put most of them there? Is he fascinated with the flush of my cheeks the same way I’m fascinated by his freckles? They’re my favourite part. I used to count them. Trace them with my finger tips while he fell asleep. Kiss them. I loved the way they looked when his nose was crinkled up in a laugh. But that’s the reality isn’t. The slap in the face. They were my favourite part. They’re not mine anymore.

With that abrupt, heart crushing thought I am brought back to my surroundings. When I step away from him, he blinks rapidly a few times, almost like he was pulled out of a trance that he wasn’t ready to leave yet. But he follows my lead, backing away from me too.

“Did you uh- Did you want to go to sleep? I’ll let you get to sleep…” He stutters sheepishly, fumbling for anything to fill the space and silence.

“I don’t think I could sleep if I wanted to” I shake my head. Sure, I could get into bed. And lie awake, staring at the ceiling for hours.

“Yeah, me too” he sighs, burying his hands into his pockets. I’ll never get used to seeing him shy like this. We were never awkward around each other. From day one he was my safe person and I was his. Now we’re just a pair of stuttering balls of anxiety with enough tension buzzing between us to cut with a knife.

“Did you want something to drink, or eat?” I offer, thinking about how he must be starving. It’s almost midnight.

“No, no” he declines politely “I’ll just go listen to the radio, leave you be, just shout if you need anything”

“Michael” I shake my head “You’re here looking after me, neither of us are gonna sleep, let me at least keep you company”

His eyes light up a little, as he nods.

Making our way to the lounge room, we both settle into the couch. Of course, he picks one side and I pick the opposite. Quite a stark comparison to the days when we used to fall asleep on this couch together. Read together. Make love together on the goddamn thing when we couldn’t wait to get to the bedroom.

I want to speak to him. But I can’t. Not for lack of words to say, but for the fact that there are way to many to even know where to begin. I can’t ask him about the weather. About work. Maybe we can’t talk about what went wrong, what happened when he left for America, but we would be fools if we tried to make meaningless small talk.

Because as I sit across from him, both of us just watching one another, I can’t stop myself from flashing back to all the things we did in this apartment. Dancing around the dining table to the radio. Cooking in the kitchen which always ended up in kissing instead. Fighting sometimes. Before making up in my bedroom. Reading the paper and drinking coffee. Crying together. Laughing together. This apartment is like a time capsule. If you listen close enough, you can almost hear echoes of us and how we used to be. Like our ghosts are still here, and still in love. Now we’re just two strangers.

So silence it is.

I wonder what he’s thinking too. When he looks at me. Does he see me now, or the old girl he used to love? Does he see me as the girl whose heart he broke? Am I the one that got away?

“How you feeling?” He asks. Maybe he mis took the look on my face for physical pain, and not emotional. But the pain my body is feeling is nothing compared to the aching in my chest coming straight from my heart.

“Ten out of ten” I retort sarcastically, earning a concerned frown from him.

“Izzy, I’m serious”

“I’m okay” I promise him “It’s not that bad anymore”

“Okay because if any thing changes I’ll call the doctor right away, you just say” his voice is dripping with stress.

“Michael, I’m fine”

“Okay, okay!” He throws his hands up, accepting defeat. I little smirk falls over his face as I watch an idea pop into his head.

“Do you know what day of the week it is?” He asks with a light chuckle.

“Are you serious?” I laugh, throwing my head back.

“Appease me” he grins.

In all our laughter we seem to have moved closer together on the lounge, and now we’re practically right next to each other. Both of us are laughing. Not even because anything is that funny, but we’re both delirious. Exhausted. Stressed. Overwhelmed. As I watch him chuckle, it occurs to me that this is the first time we have been like this together in a very, very long time. And it feels nice. Too nice. It feels safe. Comfortable. It feels like exactly how its supposed to be. Me and him laughing in my apartment.

“Saturday” I appease him, finally giving in as I looking over at the calendar “Saturday the 15th of May”

The second the words leave my mouth I feel my heart lurch. His head shoots over towards the calendar, to confirm what I just said. I watch as his heart drops too.

The 15th of May.

Today is supposed to be our goddamn anniversary.

Fuck. I hadn’t even had time to check the calendar or realise what today is between all the chaos.

Today is 5 years since we first met. And look at where we are. Broken up. Michael is married to another woman. I’m dating another man. We barely speak. I barely know who he even is anymore. We are virtual strangers.

“Michael” is the only thing I manage to squeak out, wide eyed and breathing anxiously.

He stares back at me, swallowing hard like he’s about to do something that he can’t hold himself back from anymore.

When he lunges forward, closing in the space between us, it feels like breaking through a force field that has been holding us back for so long. Like the universe and all its gravity finally gave way, the tension snapping like a rope. But when his lips collide with mine, that is the final snap. Something in the entire room shifts. It suddenly feels like my whole life has been moving in slow motion, like I’ve been sleep walking, and the second I feel his lips on mine I’m brought back to life.

Like every single moment up until this one has been black and white. Silent. Like the moment right before two stars collide and everything goes still. But once they finally meet, everything is in ultraviolet. Bursting into the atmosphere with an explosion that blinds you. Everything feels electric. So much so that it almost hurts. I hadn’t realised how badly my lips craved his until now. It steals my breath, whisking it so far away I don’t think I’ll ever get it back again.

He hands are on my face and in my hair, holding me firmly like he can’t control himself. Now that the flood gates have opened, and every inch of emotion in his body is pouring out, he can’t close them again. And either can I. I kiss him back, pushing my lips against his as my hands desperately find their way to his face. Michael and I have been at a grid lock. Stuck in tandem, free falling forever since he returned. Un able to figure each other out. But right now, we don’t even have to try. Our bodies to the work. They know exactly what to do like no time has passed at all.

My lips follow his rhythm perfectly, even though his kisses are rough and desperate. I don’t know if it’s the pounding of my own heart or his that I can hear as we cling to each other. Grabbing onto whatever clothing and body parts we can to bring ourselves as suffocatingly close as possible.

His hands travel from my face, gliding down my sides until they find their place, gripping and pulling at my waist. The way his fingers dig into my skin just rough enough but not enough to hurt me causes moans to tumble out of my mouth. I feel him hum against my lips as his own inability to swallow his own moans takes over.

I don’t think about anything but this taste. The way his tongue dances with mine. I’m so caught up in every inch of him. I have been starved of him for what feels like a life time. Our kiss never breaks, his lips continuing to ravage mine. I almost feel drunk. Intoxicated by his smell, he feel, his touch, his taste. I’m complete liquid in his hands. Every thing else fades away. I just want to be his. In his arms.

Each kiss is more desperate than the last, his body pressed up and pushing against mine until he accidentally presses me roughly against the arm of the couch. My breath hitches as a jolt of pain shoots through my already tender back. As I inhale harshly, our kiss breaks, our lips finally tearing away from each others. It also tears us out of our moment and back into reality.

As the pain in my back subsides quickly, it doesn’t take long for me to realise what we’ve just done. We quickly pull back from one another, almost scrambling away as shock shoots both of our eyes wide open. I clamp my hand over my mouth as we both pant, trying to catch our breaths and comprehend what the hell just happened.

Oh my god what did we just do.

Michael’s chest rises and falls heavily, as does mine, and I can hear my heart pounding in my ears.

“Oh my god” I whisper as we slide even further away from each other until we are on opposite ends of the couch.

It must dawn on him what has just happened all at once as his head falls in his hands, complete despair cloaking him.

“We can’t… we can’t do this” I stutter, shaking my head frantically. I quickly pull myself up from the lounge backing away from him until I’m virtually on the other side of the room. I feel sick.

Michael is married. I have Charlie. We can’t…

“Fuck” he curses loudly, running his hands through his hair as he tries to pull himself together. Standing up from the lounge he paces back and forth.

He just cheated on his wife. I just cheated on my boyfriend.

He stops pacing, and we stand across the room from each other, still trying to wrap our brains around if that actually happened.

“I’m so sorry” he shudders, his chest heaving. I can see the tears welling in his eyes from here, and it automatically triggers the same response in me.

I want to run over to him. I kiss him again. Feel his hands on me again. Our bodies intertwined. But we can’t do it. We are not those people anymore.

“You have to go” I tell him in a voice that is barely louder than a whisper. And that’s when the tears start. Spilling over onto my cheeks and dripping down off my chin.

Seeing me break down, he tries to rush over to me. To comfort me. That’s his automatic reaction to seeing my distressed. But he catches himself, pausing in his tracks. We both know what will happen if he comes over here. I can’t control myself. And either can he. We will only end up in my bed down the hall way, making an even bigger mess. He takes a shaky step away from me.

“You have to go home Michael” I beg him to stay back “Please”

“I’m so sorry Izzy” his voice cracks, breaking in two just like my heart. And from what I can see by the look on his face and the tears tumbling down his cheeks, his heart has broken into two as well.

And in the blink of an eye he hurries out the door, and he’s gone. 

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[chaos-and-sparkles]

Percabeth Wedding Headcanons

They considered not getting married as a fuck you to Hera, but decided a better fuck you would be to not let her rule their lives. 

Annabeth wore a white suit with a blue tie and Percy wore a black suit with a grey tie. 

There was a huge fight over who got to be whose bride's/groom's bitches. Eventually Tyson was Percy's best man, with Jason, Frank, Hazel, Nico and Leo in his crew. 

Annabeth's maid of honour was Thalia, with Reyna, Piper, Magnus, Clarisse, Rachel and the Stoll brothers in hers. 

Chiron officiated. Estelle was flower girl. Grover was ring bearer, and he began chewing the cushion halfway through the ceremony, while sobbing the most.

 Coach Hedge held his club up threateningly, but his eyes were suspiciously moist too.

 Calypso was the next big crier, sitting with her arms crossed stubbornly in a white vintage T-shirt and faded jeans, tears seeping out through the corners of her eyes.

Almost all the gods came. 

Aphrodite was jumping up and down and cooing over them, giving Percy looks that made him turn bright red. She looked exactly like Annabeth to him now. 

Apollo was sprawled in a front seat that he was not supposed to be in, and had dragged Will and Meg with him, Will smiling awkwardly while Meg chatted with Artemis about how annoying Apollo was.

 Hermes appeared to Percy in the dressing room ("Do you gods have NO respect for privacy?") because he 'had a message for him.’ A message from him, George and Martha, for once, wishing him good luck. They chatted, and then Percy asked if he'd met Annabeth too, but Hermes stiffened and left. 

Afterwards tho he and Annabeth came face to face during the reception, and it was awkward and silent. It ended with both of them in tears about Luke, but it was healing for them both. Hermes gave her her dagger back, and Annabeth was surprised and asked how he got it back from Tartarus. Hermes said Bob had found it and sent it up, and was on the lookout for her laptop too -

But he didn't get to finish, because Annabeth hugged him hard, and after initial shock he hugged her back.

The tension between Athena and Poseidon was palpable, and they were seated as far apart as possible. 

Poseidon thumped Annabeth on the back so hard she almost toppled into the lake, booming "I should have known! My son and I seem to have yet another thing in common - a love for queens among women." And Percy turned red again. Poseidon gave Percy a huge hug, and went on to meet Sally Jackson. Poseidon took his son marrying a daughter of his rival better than Athena did, though. 

When Annabeth and Athena met, there was some tension. It was difficult for Athena to admit she was harsh and unfair with what she said to Annabeth in HOO, and to apologize, but Percy put his hand on Annabeth's shoulder and stood behind her, even when Athena turned her piercing gaze on him and asked that she talk to Annabeth alone. He only went when Annabeth asked him to. 

Athena told Annabeth she was proud of her, and added that there was a chance she might be as great, and even greater, than Daedalus. Annabeth knew this was her best attempt at showing affection, and appreciated it. 

Athena then accosted Percy, on his way back with drinks, and gave him a once over and humphed. Percy didn't flinch or show any signs of being intimidated, and she raised and eyebrow and finally said, "I will admit, Perseus Jackson, that I did not think you a good choice for my daughter. I still have my doubts... However you have proved yourself more than worthy, and so I gave you permission to marry her. But make no mistake - if you hurt her, I will crack your skull open and extract every brain cell you have left, until you are a drooling, gibbering mess." Percy replied, "If I hurt Annabeth, she'll break every bone in my body before you even get to me. So I don't think you have to worry about that." They parted on fair terms. 

Artemis met Percy and Annabeth together, and they had a short conversation about the merits of being turned into a Jackalope, vs the merits of being married. "Life as a Jackalope is more enjoyable than it would seem. However, you have chosen your bane, and against all odds, I hold hope for you both." she concluded. 

Hestia was tending the flames when Percy and Annabeth went to meet her, both respecting her as the most helpful goddess of legit all time. She smiled and simply said, "Hope is stronger than ever now, Percy Jackson, for you now build a new and loving home - a rarer place than you would expect."

Mr. D insisted on making a speech, and making it out to Perry Jorganesson and Annie Bell.

The only god not present was Zeus. In fact, he'd banned the gods from going when it became clear that everyone wanted to go, but the gods' respect for him after the way he handled the HOO fiasco was in negative numbers so every single one of them sneaked out of Olympus. Even those who normally wouldn’t have gone went to spite him.

Hades and Persephone went as a couple. Hades sniffed and smirked, saying only that he was glad Percy was 'not my son's type, or I'd have to deal with you' (but he low key ships Percabeth). Persephone though, smiled radiantly and was one coo away from fangirl squealing. Before they left, Hades gave them a note from Bob.

"Bob saw two stars already. They were next to him in Tartarus. Bob says hello." Percy and Annebth sobbed for fiat that, holding each other tightly. They made a point of mapping every single constellation that night. They almost cried again when they saw the Huntress above them.

Hephaestus's eyes twinkled, and he said, "I see that trap in Waterland worked after all - even if not in the way I'd intended."

 Ares just grunted that Annabeth had a better weapon (the dragon fang sword) than the last time he saw her, and took his sunglasses off to glare at Percy. "Now there are TWO goddesses who'll kill me if I snuff you out."

The highlight though was Hera waltzing in, smiling smugly like she'd set up the whole thing, and eating a slice of cake, turning a seashell-and-flower arrangement into a cow because it 'looked better, and brought back memories'. She left soon enough, but not before the cow had left a warm gift.  

Grover gave his blessing as Lord of the Wild, Rachel gave hers as the Oracle, and the gods fully expected Percabeth to ask for one of their blessings next, but instead the two turned to Sally Jackson and asked for her blessing as the 'supreme goddess'.

The ceremony was in the pavilion, and the reception was around the canoe lake at twilight. The trees around the canoe lake were hung with fairy lights, and Juniper and the dryads had ensured that the sweetest, most fragrant flowers grew. Seashells decorated the venue. Calypso had brought moonlace that began to glow and smell even more beautiful as night began to fall. The Hecate cabin had enchanted sparkling butterflies to flutter around them both after it got dark. The naiads sang in voices nearly as beautiful as the sirens, although lighter and airier. The pegasi flew in formation.

Bessie the Ophiotaurus as well as the Hippocampi were in attendance.

Percy and Annabeth did their first dance underwater, and kissed before resurfacing. Everyone looked around for the dance floor, but couldn't see a thing, when they realized - the lake was the dance floor. Percy had managed to magic the lake, with favours from the naiads and Poseidon, into a liquid dance floor that rippled different colours with each step.

Their wedding day had been on the last day of camp, with the whole camp invited, so with nightfall came the camp traditions, but even better. 

There was the fireworks display of course, but with Leo's help it was doubly glorious and even began to tell Percabeth's story. Annabeth looked like she'd die when it began showing the Thrill Ride of Love part of the story, because "It doesn't matter if we're married Percy! It's still embarrassing!"

Camp fire was even more cheerful, what with the gods and mortals allowed in for the first time, and of course Piper+Leo and the Stoll brothers played pranks - it was funnier than it would have been because their pranks overlapped and backfired on each other instead.

Instead of wedding bands, Percabeth were married with camp beads - an owl and a trident artistically intertwined in a silver thread carved heart, designed by Rachel. Hazel summoned the silver and some jewels to embellish them - and this time, she knew, somehow, that they weren’t cursed.

Of course the cake and all food and drink was blue, as well as the flowers, the wedding party's outfits, and (on Annabeth's request as a surprise for Percy) the guests’ clothes. Aphrodite went super overboard with that, and even Artemis succumbed to a small blue flower and fang accessory in her hair.

As soon as the dancing and music ended (as soon as they could get the mic away from Apollo), the activity underway was Capture the Flag with Percy and Annabeth leading opposite teams composed of their bridal parties+friends. Coach Hedge and the Hermes, Ares, Aphrodite and part of the Apollo cabins along with a bunch of minor god cabins went on Annabeth's team, and Will, Meg, and the rest in Percy's. The gods sat it out (some had to be physically restrained) as did Grover, the nature spirits, animals and mortals (Rachel had to be dissuaded from entering armed with plastic hairbrushes and improv lighter-and-spray flamethrowers).

Nobody won. Instead of crossing over the boundary line when they met with each other's flags in hand, Percy and Annabeth started making out. Clarisse could be heard grumbling about it later.

Grover and Thalia stayed back long after everyone had left, and the four of them spent time together until four in the morning.

BTW Annabeth proposed to Percy right before he was about to propose to her. They both looked at each other in surprise for a solid minute, and then burst out laughing. It was impossible to tell who said yes, or if any of them did, but they didn't need to. 

They’d both gone to Tyson for the engagement rings. Tyson was confused at first, but promised to keep their secret from each other.

Grover on the other end of the link just stopped mid conversation with the Council of Cloven Elders and Dionysus, and bleated loudly in relief, "FREAKING FINALLY." out of nowhere, and while everyone looked bewildered, Dionysus though just took a sip of diet coke and rolled his eyes, sighing, "Took them long enough."

They proposed to each other on Percy's birthday. Annabeth had baked another blue cupcake ("I'm getting better at it, too!") and they were cuddling/play fighting/sprawling on the sofa late at night in Sally's apartment, talking. They sat with their legs crossed together, devouring the cupcake with their fingers, talking about their plans.

 Annabeth mentioned that she'd designed this new building for New Rome that she was SO excited to build (Reyna had contracted her as New Rome's architect), and asked if Percy wanted to see the design. Percy agreed, and she retrieved a roll of paper. Annabeth began to explain enthusiastically, and, pointing at the center of the design, said, "And this is my favourite part." Percy leaned in further to see what she was pointing at - at the heart of the temple, where the altar should be, was a blue-silver ring with a wave design over the words "will you marry me?"

Annabeth looked almost anxiously at Percy, but he looked blank. Finally, Percy uncapped Riptide, which she hadn't noticed was poised in his hand as if he was going to point or correct something on the sheet, and instead of expanding into a sword, it remained a ball pen - with a simple silver ring etched with the words "Wise Girl" around its tip.

They stared at each other, stumped, before exploding in laughter. 

Sally and Paul came running from the next room, Estelle copying them and giggling in Paul's arms, worried that it was a monster attack. When instead they saw Percy and Annabeth laughing and hugging, each wearing a ring on fingers covered in blue frosting and looking as if they couldn't quite believe it, Sally burst into tears right there and had to explain to her concerned kids, laughing, that these were happy tears because secretly she still couldn't believe that they had all found their happiness and it was something she'd only dared to dream of because it was everything she ever wanted for her son and she was happy to and oh how long had she waited and worked and hoped for a happy ending for all of them but never really expected it and this was too much - 

[yixxes]

I Love You, Too | p.p

Warnings: Angst? Like two swear words, I think? Death.

Word Count: 930-ish?

“I don’t wanna go, sir, please.”

“Peter!” 

There you were. You pulled yourself together just in time, completely forgetting about the massive ache on the left side of your head that threatened to take you out and the gash in your right calf that would most likely impair the way that you walked for the next couple of weeks or so. 

As soon as he heard your voice, his begging came to a complete stop. Peter absolutely refused to scar you in that way. He knew what hearing him practically beg for his life and seeing him in such poor shape would do to you, so, despite everything else, he needed to be calm. He needed to be strong enough for the both of you. Not because he was anywhere close to being either of those things, but because he didn’t want you to see him like that. He didn’t want you to hurt more than you were already going to.

He didn’t need a doctor or an expert to tell him that this was it. These were his last moments and much like any normal person who was this close to dying, he was absolutely terrified. The job wasn’t always easy, and yeah, he often walked away from it with more than minor cuts and scrapes, but he never really anticipated that something like this would happen. Man. And to think that they were so close..

No. Thinking over everything that they could’ve done differently was futile. It was a waste of space in his brain, and he’d need as much of that as he could possibly get to think up a way to keep you from falling apart, and from the looks of it, he didn’t have much time to do that. The devastating reality of it was this: you were coming undone faster than either of you could help, and he was dying.

You dropped down to your knees beside him, grabbing up his right hand with both of your own. Tears were already rushing down your cheeks as you begged him to tell you what was wrong. What hurt, tell you where it hurt, or damn it, at least what happened and you’d figure out the rest and make it better. 

“I’ll make it better,” you insisted, but your cries were making it perfectly clear that you needed him to make it better right now. You were losing him and you knew it. With every second that passed, you could physically feel him slipping from your fingertips and it terrified you. He’d be gone before the minute passed and nothing inside of you could come close to prepare you for losing him. You weren’t ready for this, you weren’t ready to lose him. You wouldn’t have ever been ready to lose him. 

“Please,” you implored weakly, holding onto his hand so tight as if that would be enough to keep him here with you. “please don’t leave me.”

His breaths were limited, as was their remaining time together and they both knew it. There was no more feeling anywhere in his body, but he tried his hardest to move his hand in yours before summoning every last remaining bit of energy inside of him to speak. He’d be damned if he left you without telling you,

“I...love you, I…” He had to make sure that you knew. If this was it, the very last time that he’d ever get to see your face, he had to tell you how he felt. Without a doubt. Without a moment’s hesitation. “...’m sorry.” 

He’d never willingly leave you, and if it were up to him, he’d stay. He’d wipe away every last tear on your face and hold you so close until you believed him when he’d tell you: I promise, I’m not going anywhere. He’d choose you, he’d choose to never leave your side, and fuck, he was so sorry to be the one breaking your heart like this. He was so devastatingly sorry that he let you down. There was so much to say, but they were out of time. 

Right before your eyes, he began to disappear. Slowly at first, and it was piece-by-piece. Maybe it wasn’t ever as fast as your mind made you believe, but being the one in the situation rather than being on the outside looking in, time couldn’t pass slow enough. If this was going to be the last time that you ever saw him, the last time that you got to feel his touch, or dear God, the last time that you ever got to hear him say those three words to you, you’d need more than the small bundle of seconds that you were given. You watched the entire thing even though you knew that you shouldn’t have. You’d be seeing this exact same thing, over and over again in your head for who knows how long after this. 

His right hand was the last to go, and you were silently thanking God for the small blessing, but you still couldn’t stop yourself from coming undone in mournful sobs as soon as you felt his hand disappear from your touch. A piece of your heart left with him and what was left of it sunk to your stomach. You were out of time and there those damned words were, still caught in your throat. He used his last few breaths to tell you that he loved you; to apologize just before he let go. 

It all happened in one constant, dreadful thread that you had no part of. There wasn’t enough time for you to say it back. You’d go through the rest of your days with those four words forever on your lips. Always resting there, never moving forward, all because the only person that they were meant for wasn’t a part of this world anymore. Beloved, Peter:

I love you, too.

A/N: Whew! Okay, so hello! Thank you so much for reading! This is my very first time posting on this app, so sorry if this sucks, I’m very new to this whole thing, so not too much on me 💀😅 I just thought I’d give it a shot w a oneshot. ☺️ I wanna give a special thanks to @starkissedholland​ for being my inspiration and encouraging me to post this. Gen, you’re literally the sweetest, and I hope you enjoy this! 💗 also to @confusednarcissistwrites for being so supportive and kind 🥺💕 I hope you enjoy this as well! ✨

[itstittycitybaby]

May Death do Us Part (Benrey/Gordon Freeman)

A/N: ahaha im a bit nervous to post this one ngl but fuck it might as well give it a shot. if you haven’t seen hlvrai please do it’s so good and so fucking funny. Thank you @kryogie for helping me with this fic! I really appreciate it bro.

Warnings:angst,suicidal thoughts,suicide attempt,hurt/comfort,dissociation.

Benrey couldn’t die. Anyone else would be ecstatic to know that they could out run the hounds of death. Gordon’s apartment was dark that night. He’d mention earlier that morning picking up another shift, so he’d be home later. The silence was deafening as Benrey stared at the bright T.V. screen. His thoughts felt like he was dragging through quick sand and his brain lagged. “not pog. cringeworthy moments right here,” Benrey murmured to himself as a CPU beat his ass on Smash. Sonic, the one Benrey mains, looked glum as he clapped for Bowser. It was suffocating; the silence and the distant but also bright colours of the T.V. The switch hummed faintly but Benrey had trouble focusing on it. 

He hated the quiet. Whenever it was quiet the guilt came rushing back. The memories of Black Mesa were fuzzy but Benrey couldn’t forget what he had done. His hand laid there on the cold cement ground as Gordon cried out in pain in the dark. His form being dragged by three soldiers as they left him to die. Benrey could faintly see the blood as Tommy started to cry.

“N-no! What are they d-doing to Mr. Freeman?”

Benrey choked on his breath; his chest felt tight and his throat contracted harshly. The whispers of the dark swirled around him and laid on his trembling form thickly. The T.V. that sat on its stand became blurry and Benrey felt as if he were sinking.

He couldn’t move. The soldiers around them paid him no mind. They laughed and carried on like nothing had happened. After all, Benrey’s job was done righ? This is what he had wanted?

“calm down,” Benrey told himself. “this..this is baby behaviour...we’re supposed to be..epic gamer....” Gordon had moved on from Black Mesa. Or so he told himself anyway. His arm was back, something Tommy’s dad had fixed. Even with his hand being back, Benrey could see the underlying anxiety Gordon had. He could see it in the way Gordon fidgeted and jumped at every loud noise. He couldn’t blame him at all. This was all his fault. He had always enjoyed making Gordon irritated. It was funny and entertaining but he had taken it too far.

Benrey knew he didn’t deserve Gordon’s kindness. He didn’t have to let Benrey in his apartment as the rain poured that night. Gordon was anxious and still held some malice towards him, but Benrey could see his big brown eyes soften with concern as he saw the blood seeping through his security shirt. Gordon was insistent on tending his wounds even though he knew Benrey couldn’t die. Something Benrey still couldn’t wrap his head around to this day.

How long had it been? Hours? Minutes? Benrey couldn’t tell but the thoughts were getting louder and louder as he sat there on the couch. He had to do something. His limbs didn’t feel like moving but he wiggled them as a test. They felt sluggish and heavy but Benrey eventually got a leg off the couch. He deserved this didn’t he? He deserved the pain and despair of the aftermath. It’s what he caused after all. So why was it so hard to move on?

“wasn’t suppos’ to be..like this,” Benrey mumbled one night as the both of them sat in front of the T.V. Some stupid rom com played. Pretty and Pink, was it? Gordon didn’t say anything but his brows furrowed. “What?” Benrey huffed. “can’t hear me feetman?..gordon freeman??more like.. gordon deafman haha...can’t even hear his bro talking to him..” Gordon rolled his eyes and sighed. “Can you ever talk seriously?” “yea...I tried but deafman couldn’t hear me....” Gordon just snorted, picking up the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table. “Whatever man just watch the movie.” Benrey could see a small smile on Gordon’s plush lips. It made his heart flutter.

The balcony felt cold underneath Benrey’s feet. Gordon’s apartment was high enough that he’d smack on the concrete and die from the impact. Sure, he’d resurrect again, but it helped with the pain. All the emotions swirled around him and bit at his gut. It was an endless torture of not being able to be at peace. People saw the ability of never being able to die a blessing. Hell, they would kill for it. Benrey saw it as a curse. It was perfect for him and the thought made him laugh hollowly. It was raining again and the air nipped at his toes and fingers. The wind made his skin numb from the cold. He laughed at the clicheness of it all. Like some damn cheesy RPG game where the main character hit his low. The sky wept with Benrey’s misery.

Benrey’s fists clenched tightly on the balcony. The metal railing was cold to the touch and the water made it a bit slippery. The laughter wheezed out of his chest. Was he crying? His tears felt hot;His arms felt slackish and unbearably slow.”c-could end everything r-right now....little feetman wouldn’t have to...p-put up with me anymore...i’ll just respawn like a gamer and...keep d-doing it....” Maybe one day he’d disappear. Maybe he’d actually stay dead. Benrey cackled at the thought. It was wishful thinking, he knew it. Yet, he couldn’t help but think of the science team. What if he actually stayed dead? Tommy would cry and wail like a good friend. He cared about Benrey even after all the shit he put them through. Dr. Coomer might be a little sad but would be back in no time. Bubby..well Bubby was and always will be a wild card. Benrey’s heart lurched when he thought about Gordon. The science team never worried too much when Benrey died but this was different entirely. Benrey wanted to die. Would they even care? Gray orbs left his mouth as he remincised over what he had done. He had fucked up and couldn’t forgive himself. How could he when he had hurt the man he liked. 

Gripping the railing for support, Benrey balanced himself onto it. Carefully, he stood up on it. His stomach lurched with anxiety as he looked down. Cars honked and people walked among the sidewalks blissfully unaware. Benrey couldn’t help but think about if his head smacked onto the pavement. How traumatized innocent bystanders would be and if they would tried to help. Was it wrong that he couldn’t find himself to care?

“Benrey!” He jumped in surprise, causing him to teeter on the railing. His arms waved and so did his fingers for balance. A hand grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked him onto the balcony floor. Benrey let out a hiss as his back made contact with its cement floor. He cursed once he realized who prevented him from jumping off the balcony and ending his misery for a short awhile. “W-what the fuck man?!” Gordon Freeman hovered over Benrey. His glasses were speckled from the rain and his hair that was pulled up was starting to get damp. His brown eyes were wide and..was he crying? The waves of guilt that were already washing Benrey away were now crashing to the surface. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He looked so afraid and hurt. Benrey averted his gaze. “L-let’s get you inside,” Gordon said, mostly to himself. He was trying to reassure himself, Benrey noticed, as he helped him up. Gordon’s hand wrapped tightly around his as he lead him back into his apartment. God, Benrey felt so damn guilty. He just wanted to die for a bit and be nothing. It only lasted for a couple hours before he came back but the seemingly never ending darkness called to him. It called for him to come home. Benrey could barely register a fluffly towel being wrapped around his quivering frame. His clothing clung to his skin in a gross way and he felt cold and warm at the same time. There were groceries and a pack of Moutain Dew on the kitchen isalnd. Benrey’s favorite.

Gordon ran a hand through his hair. A nervous tick he had which didn’t help Benrey’s guilt at all. “’m...s-sorry,” Benrey choked out. “weren’t suppose...to see that.” Gordon’s head shot up. His brown eyes wavered as he looked into Benrey’s seemingly cold black ones. “No man don’t a-apologize. I-If I had known...” Gordon trailed off. Benrey shook his head. “n-not just for that feetman...for everything..” His lip quivered and he dropped Gordon’s gaze. Finally, he had said what he’d been keeping in for so long. “Is that why you tried t-to..do that?” Gordon gestured to the balcony. Benrey nodded. Gordon let out a shaky sigh. “L-look man.. I’ve already forgiven you. I care about you and...I worry about you Benrey..I l-lo-” Benrey’s eyes widened. Gordon’s cheeks heated up and he swallowed thickly. “..wha?..” “U-um,” Gordon stuttered, eyes averting anything close to Benrey. “U-uh..fuck it man! I like you alright? I-I.. love you after all these months! I was gonna tell you but... I-I didn’t think you’d feel the same.. Now of all times isn’t g-good to tell you either.” Benrey stood there stunned. 

Gordon swallowed nervously as he waited silently. Benrey’s silence and his stare didn’t help Gordon in the slightest. “L-look man if you don’t feel that way it’s fine. I’m more concerned about you though...I-I have a friend who’s a therapist! S-she’s great and she-” Gordon got caught off by soft lips against his own. His eyes widened but when Benrey clutched tightly into his shirt, he kissed back. 

Gordon cracked a smile once they pulled away. “I-I don’t wanna pressure you into anything while in this state...so I-I understand if you don’t wanna g-get into anything-”  Benrey cut Gordon off with another kiss. They were a bit cold and damp from standing in the rain. “y-you’re my gamer boyfriend now feetman..” Gordon barked a laugh as he pulled away. “I still want you to get help though okay? I want to help you through this.” Benrey nodded, “i-i’ll try bro....i’ll try.” Satisfied, Gordon beckoned to the couch. “Wanna play some video games or something?” Benrey nodded, already shuffling to the couch. 

After Gordon put the groceries away and grabbed Benrey a can of Moutain Dew and his so called “gamer snacks”, he joined him on the couch. “Can I,” Gordon asked, hovering his arm over Benrey’s shoulders. He nodded and as soon as Gordon wrapped his arm around him, Benrey nestled into his side. They both smiled as they basked in each other’s presence and played Heavenly Sword. Tomorrow will be a better day.

[rose-of-gabriel]

i wrote a fic about the Mandalorian taking care of you while you menstruate bc i can

that’s where we’re at rn

You have a personal bone to pick with whatever laser-brain designed the human female. Let’s make it continuously bleed for a quarter of every month, and since that isn’t enough of a pain, let’s add actual pain on top of that. Genius.

You bite your lip and try to focus on successfully landing the Razor Crest. Mando’s cashing in on three separate bounties, which should give you enough credits to take it easy for a while. Well, as easy as the Mandalorian can take it. You suspect his pace was even more ruthless before he found the kid, but fatherhood has forced him to relent, just a little.

You really don’t mind his lifestyle. Anything is better than that mind-numbing mechanics job back on Nevarro, though the stabbing pain in your gut makes you miss the old shack you called home.  No one around to judge you for collapsing in on yourself and praying for death.

That’s how Mando finds you: in the pilot’s chair, folded in half with your head on your knees. You don’t bother to look up as you grumble, “Ready to go?”

He doesn’t respond right away, probably deciding whether or not he should be concerned. You realize that this is the first time he’s seen you like this. Your implant makes it so you only bleed every three months, and you’ve been traveling together for almost four. The part of you that is harboring a completely futile crush on the Mandalorian wants to melt into the floor. The rest of you can’t be bothered to care, knowing that if it doesn’t concern his kid, his work, or his creed, he doesn’t care, anyway.

When he still doesn’t answer, you slowly lift you head to meet his metal gaze. You try to offer a smile, but the lights of the cockpit make your head pulse and it turns into a grimace.

The baritone of his voice reveals nothing when he asks, “You okay?”

No, you want to growl between your teeth. You don’t, because if there’s one person in the universe you know you shouldn’t complain to, it’s the Mandalorian.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You close your eyes and take a purposeful breath through your nose. “Are there any heat packs left in the medkit?”

“No. I think we used them up when the kid had that cold.”

Kriffing aces.

“Okay, I’ll add it to the list.” You sag deeper into the chair. “We shouldn’t go so long between supply trips, next time.”

“No one was stopping you when we were on Malthor.” He says with a hint of mockery.

You wave a dismissive hand. “That was all merchants and you know I can’t haggle for shit.”

He blows out a breath, the closest thing you get to making him laugh. It’s a small victory that nearly makes you forget the demon attacking your uterus.

You haul yourself out of the pilot’s seat and the protests from you body must be so loud even the Mandalorian can hear, because he takes a step forward and insists, “What’s wrong?”

You start to say it’s nothing when he takes yet another step, getting closer than you’ve ever dared to. Gods, you hope he doesn’t notice the way your breath catches.

“I’ve spent my whole life watching people.” He says in a tone you’ve never heard before, equal parts menacing and tender. It makes your gut twist in a completely different way. Then he adds dryly, “And you’ve got about as much subtlety as a rancor.”

You deflate.

“Yeah, yeah, piss off.” You mutter under your breath. Then in a huff, you admit, “It’s menstrual pain. You happy? Nothing I haven’t dealt with before so let’s go.”

You’re through the hatch faster than you need to be, the awkwardness burning under your skin. You busy yourself with the kid’s cradle, making sure he’s secure despite there being nothing to actually secure him with. The child tilts his little head at you like he can sense your embarrassment.

“Hey, Bug.” You whisper conspiratorially, “Don’t look at me like that.”

He lets out a string of nonsense that sounds a lot like you’re the one acting weird, although you may just be projecting. Mando drops down from the cockpit and you suddenly remember you need to check every single pocket of your day pack, just to make sure everything is where you left it.

“Is it bad?”

The question surprises you, and you’re not really sure why. It’s not because he cares. You know there’s a heart underneath all that beskar. It’s something in his voice, a gentleness that isn’t like the kind he uses with the kid.

After a moment, your neurons decide to fire again and you manage to say, “No. I mean, mine are pretty heavy, and the pain is sometimes a lot, and the migraines really suck but oh my gods, I can’t believe I am talking to you about this.” Or that you just said that part out loud.

You spin on your heel, all attempts at subtly flying out the window as you activate the kid’s pram. “Ready to go, Bug?” You squeak, cheeks burning.

You reach for the control panel to lower the ramp when Mando takes your hand and pulls you around to face him. You can’t think of anything other than kriffkriffkriffkriffkriff, heart hammering against your ribs so hard he must be able to see it.

There’s a torturous moment of silence before he says, “You stay here with the kid. I’ll go to town and get what we need.”

That brings your panic to a screeching halt. “But… you have to turn in the quarries.”

“I’ll collect the credits then head to the shopping district.”

All your nerves start to dissipate in the wake of a very familiar spite. “Mando, I’m not a liability. I don’t need to stay behind.”

A nagging voice reminds you that there’s no way to sound tough when talking to the kriffing Mandalorian, but something shifts. There’s the slightest dip of his helmet that makes you think you’ve surprised him, that he’s looking at you through new eyes.

“I know you can handle yourself.” He says carefully, like he’s worried about getting this wrong. “This isn’t an emergency, though. Just… just let me go. Try to feel… better.”

There’s something in his voice that helps you know it isn’t a judgement, that he’s not offering because he thinks you’re some stupid flower that needs protected. He’s just a friend who sees your pain and wants to help, in whatever small way he can.

You do smile, this time, though quickly squash it in favor of a very serious-business-face. “Okay, fine. Let me help you unload the quarries, at least.”

Once that’s done, you sit on the loading ramp with Bug and watch the Mandalorian leave for as long as you can before the pulsing behind your eyes becomes too much. Leaving the ramp lowered, you shut the bay doors and find your data pad, searching for a kid-friendly holo that Bug will like. He’s going through a phase where anything to do with water excites him. You lay out your bedroll and set the kid up with a Mon Cala cartoon, his ears perking up in approval.

After he’s situated, you skulk off to the fresher. Luckily, you have a decent stash, so you don’t have to ask the Mando-fucking-lorian to buy you menstrual products. The Crest’s medkit is pretty sparse, though, and most of what you do have is either for field injuries or baby stuff. You toss back some child’s pain killers and go to curl up with the kid, keeping your eyes shut tight against the barrage of colorful animations.

By the time Mando comes back, you’re both only half awake. Without a word, he scoops the child from your arms and settles him in the bassinet that Kuiil made. You don’t try to move, just listen as the Mandalorian flits about the ship and puts away supplies. After a while, he returns, sitting with his back against the wall, facing you.

“How’d it go?” you mumble, peeling your eyes open to see that he’s removed his armor and sits in just his helmet and base layers. You want to appreciate the form-fitting clothes, but everything hurts too much.

“Sit up for a second.” He tells you, and that’s when you notice the huge shopping bag beside him. He coaxes you up, then fishes into the bag. “Here.” He says, handing you a heat pack.

“Oh, bless you.” You nearly weep, cracking it in half to activate the heated gel. You press the pad against your stomach and immediately sag with relief.

“Take these.” The Mandalorian says, producing two white pills and a thermos. “They’ll help with the pain, and your headache.”

“Oh…” you bring the thermos to your nose and realize it’s some kind of tea. “Thank you.”

You revel in the hot compress and tea, totally satiated, but the Mandalorian goes on. “I picked these up, too.” You actually gasp when he pulls out a box of golden tuiles. “I thought they might be…”

“My favorite.” You all-but shriek, setting your tea aside and making the same grabby hands you’ve seen the kid do a hundred times. You stare at the pack of cookies as if they’re precious treasure. “How the hell did you know?”

Even the voice modulator can’t hide his amusement. “A few weeks ago, when we were in that market place on Naboo? A woman was selling them and you got this feral look in your eye.”

“Yeah, that’s because these are the best thing ever.” You insist, tearing the box open. The sweet scent is like a drug, and without thinking, you reach in and hand him a cookie. “You have to try one.”

Equally thoughtless, Mando takes it, and before the obvious can come crashing down, you spin around and shove a cookie into your mouth, burying your head between your knees. You try to focus on the taste of the cookie and not the fact you just stupidly offered the Mandalorian food when you know full-well that he can’t eat in front of you. Nothing to do now but just bear down and wait out the awkwardness.

Your ears are practically ringing as the seconds tick by, bracing for the humiliation as he reminds you about one of his culture’s most obvious rules. You wait, but instead of a discontented sigh, you hear a crunch, chewing, and then, “Okay, yeah. I see your point.”

Your brain short circuits at the sound of his unmodulated voice, but there’s no time to savor it. He’s already getting up and heading toward the cockpit, speaking to you from behind a wall of static. “I’m going to set course for Arvala.”

You lift your head, too tired to process what just happened or what it means, if it means anything. “Hey, Mando.” He stops but doesn’t turn around. You smile anyway, because this definitely meant something. “Thank you, for all this. It’s… thank you.”

He turns his head just slightly and gives you a nod before disappearing into the cockpit. You take another swig of tea before curling up on your bedroll. Physically, you’re a disaster, but even that can’t keep the smile off your face.

[un-deux-zero-quatre]

“come be my teacher”

→ pairing: kim seokjin x (f) reader → genre: fluff, crack, if you squint it’s slow-burn → part i: 2,208 words → author note: inspired by a cute TA and my miserable effort in a korean language course while studying abroad. unlike y/n’s bold self. i never actually made efforts to get to know boys on campus, but then again i was never blessed to attend school with worldwide handsome jin. this is my first fic so hopefully you enjoy it, let me know what you think :)

(gif found on sbs website)

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You dabbed at the sweat droplets that formed on your forehead as the elevator to the sixth floor dinged to signal its arrival (fucking finally, you thought to yourself). You stepped out alongside a few other students heading towards room 605 for intro to Korean. A student sitting on the floor with his back against the windowed wall caught your peripheral. You glanced in the most casual manner you could pull off, but he was too busy looking down at his phone and you were forced to keep walking in the throng of students in the busy hallway. He looked cute, but honestly, half the campus was attractive boys that never gave you the light of day. Plus, having hiked half a mountain and power walked a large portion of your campus, the only thing on your mind was finding a seat to sink into, getting your heavy backpack off your sore shoulder, and downing the ice cold water in your HydroFlask. Not another cute boy who would ignore you. You made a beeline for a desk near the middle of the room, next to the giant windows. After not so carefully dumping your backpack on the desk table, you reached over to pull the window open, wondering why the hell you thought that wearing a long sleeve hoodie over black leggings during spring in Seoul seemed liked a good idea when you got dressed this morning. “I think my last brain cell stopped functioning the minute it started getting warmer,” you say to your deskman and friend, who is immersed in her music but gives you a sympathetic smile. Being that it was just the first week back to school, the classroom was still half empty. Most students would likely pile in gradually after managing to find the correct classroom… Yonsei was not exactly a small campus. Even local students found it difficult at times to navigate the famous campus.

You took this as an opportunity to lazily get going on the notes projected on the board. It was mostly stuff you’d get on the syllabus anyway, but you figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a digital copy; you did have a knack for misplacing important documents when you needed them the most and you did not want to have to suffer anymore than you anticipated from a course titled ‘Survival Korean.’ Despite having lived in the capital city for a couple months, your Korean had barely progressed from being able to order coffee and read instagram captions. Err, 70% of some instagram captions. So here you were at 8:45 am on this warm and cloudy day, sitting next to your practically fluent friend, mentally playing off your anxiety about being forced to brokenly speak in front of people who probably were only taking the class for an easy A. Before you knew it the professor was calling for attention to commence the class. You barely listened but maintained eye contact and nodding confidently to assert dominance. At least thats what you thought your half-assed efforts were doing for you. “Throughout the following weeks you’ll be working closely with a group of hand selected TA’s who will help you on your weekly tasks. They have worked hard to prepare engaging activities for all of you so please look forward to their lessons.” He signaled at a few older students scattered across the wall opposite to your seat, who flashed friendly smiles or lifted their hands up to identify themselves. You scanned and your eyes fell on one boy with wispy bangs and a soft pout on his lips.

Your one brain cell, as lame as it was at times, immediately recognized him as the boy who was sitting outside the classroom before class started. Getting a better chance at seeing his features you realized he was lowkey more handsome than other boys you’d seen on campus. Everyone knew Yonsei was notorious for attractive and bougie students but you did not expect to have a TA that looked like an Oscar nominated actor. You wondered if he was as kind as his eyes presented, or if he was a case of reverse-bitch face. You were brought back to consciousness when he turned and your eyes connected. You remained expressionless when his plump lips curved upward slightly. You felt your chest clench of embarrassment and quickly shifted your eyes at other students, focusing on each one for a few seconds to play off the fact that you were obviously drooling for this stranger. Why did you feel yourself burning up? It’s not like you have never seen a pretty boy. You weren’t the type to get so worked up over that. You cringed at yourself for feeling so affected that you didn’t even notice the professor had finished talking and students were shuffling to put their stuff away.

You felt your friend poke your arm, “Dude, let’s go.” You looked up at her and slammed your MacBook shut. “Oh— yeah sure! Do you have class right now?” She looked at her phone and groaned, “Ugh, I still have a whole hour before it starts. Let’s go chill somewhere.” Swinging your backpack over your shoulder you followed her out the classroom’s back exit, lowering your gaze to fiddle with your AirPod case just in case another opportunity for you to make an ass of yourself presented itself. You snapped the case open, swinging your hair around to plop the earphone in, missing handsome boy who was standing by the podium by the front door, watching you with curiosity, a tiny smile once again on his lips.

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“I seriously cannot believe we never realized they sell kaya toast here! Why do we always play ourselves?!” your friend sighed as you trudged up the massive concrete steps to Daewoo Annex Hall. “Maybe it’s because we always insist on going off campus to our fave cafe, we just can’t help being so loyal.” The main floor was buzzing with the loud chatter of students mingling in between classes, many of them ordering or waiting for their ritualistic iced Americanos to be served. You joined the short line to order, glancing at the menu above the case of baked goods. Your mind foggily drifted back to handsome boy from earlier. You wondered if he found you weird for staring so intently. By no means did you have a resting bitch face, but your natural expression doesn’t exactly scream approachability. 

Though it had only been a few seconds of staring, you recall how sparkly his eyes had been. His wispy hair framed them perfectly, and alongside his dark eyelashes it was no surprise you were so immediately entranced… You caught yourself; who can even manage to look that attractive so early in the day?! Since when did good looks even mean that much to you? He was probably an asshole anyway, using the TA position only to exert power over undergrads who couldn’t afford do much but beg for mercy during office hours and rant online about shitty policies.

You felt your nose scrunching up into a frown when a loud laugh brought you back to the present moment. Looking down from the menu to the register you noticed a wavy haired, uniform clad barista throwing his head back at what seemed to be the funniest joke in the world. He flashed a boxy smile at whoever was leaned over the bar waiting for their coffee all while his hands expertly handled the register, tucking away won bills and passing a receipt to the customer who just finished ordering. 

“Wow, I guess all the cute boys decided to torture us today,” your friend whispered, raising her eyebrow at you. You couldn’t even try to argue with her, this boy definitely contributed to evidence that only attractive students attended Yonsei… kind of like how handsome boy did as well… As if the universe had heard your mind ruminating, and decided it was time to intervene, the person leaned over the counter turned to look in your direction, and you had to bite your tongue to not gasp when those sparkly brown eyes connected with yours.

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You know those cheesy rom-coms where the protagonist finally meets her true love (or whatever) for the first time and the world magically melts away so that it’s only the two of them? Or how in Bollywood movies when the heroine locks eyes with the bad boy love interest and boom, cue sensual but still cute song with perfectly timed choreography? You loved that shit but never for one second believed it applied to the real world.

So why, God why, did you feel like time had stopped the second his eyes met yours and nothing else, especially not your midday politics class, mattered? “Hey! You’re one our teachers for survival Korean, right?” Your friend’s voice cut through your bizarre cinematic moment. She had stepped forward to order while she greeted none other than mister handsome boy. Although it had felt like an eternity, only a few seconds had transpired so the odds of you looking like a blithering idiot to others was very slim. “Yeah, you have a good eye, there’s about 10 of us there,” he smiled at your friend. “Are you both in the class? My name’s Seokjin, I’ll be teaching the lesson in a couple weeks.” You friend shot a quick smile at him and turned to the barista to order. You glanced quickly at her, the barista whose name tag read Taehyung, and then back at handsome b— err, Jin.

Since both your friend and Taehyung were busy in a transaction, you had no choice but to keep the conversation alive. “Uhh yeah, we are… my name is ____,” your eyes finally settled on his. He straightened up from the coffee bar, starching his arms up and brushing the back of his head.

Fuck, he was tall.

“Are you gonna order coffee, too? Speaking of, where’s mine? Ya! Tae!” He motioned over at the register and you remembered the sole reason for you climbing a steep hill 10 minutes away from your next classroom. You mumbled a soft oh, thanks and faced back to the register to order. It looks like Taehyung had abandoned his spot to make Jin’s drink, so a kind-eyed but sleepy girl took your order instead.

Stuffing your loose change back in your cardholder you made your way over to the main lobby where your friend stood with Jin and two other boys. “Ugh, I think I’ve had enough of feeling awkward for today,” you thought as you slowed down your steps. Always a queen with perfect timing, as you arrived you heard Tae scream out Jin’s name and order and Jin waved goodbye. “See you next week! Don’t forget to pick up a good notebook!” 

“What,” you deadpanned as your friend turned on her heel to stare at you with an expression you only saw when stumbling across an aesthetic new cafe.“What are the odds of us getting such a hot TA for the easiest class ever?! And he’s not a complete jerk, wow.” HA, your lips pursed out as your inner monologue from an hour ago quickly flashed in your find. “I mean, maybe now he’s nice before he actually gets to teach us, what if he completely switches up? Also excuse me, but easiest class ever if you already speak Korean only! I’m not ready to take L’s in front of everyone,” your hands ran through your hair as you plopped down on a couch. “It’ll be fine, maybe Jin can be your motivation.” If the eyes emoji were based on anything, no doubt it was your friends iconic expression. As you opened your mouth to protest she dove away back to the coffee bar for your drinks.

Blowing air out gently from your pursed lips you dwelled on what’s to come. Okay… maybe if you kept an open mind the class (and this very specific TA) wouldn’t be so awful. You did choose to come abroad to a country where didn’t speak the language in hopes of eventually becoming fluent, after all. What good would negativity do? And anyway, it’s not like Jin would be teaching the entire course, so he probably wouldn’t even be able to clock how awkward he made you act (not that you understood either, its not the first time you see a cute boy.) As your friend came back holding two iced caramel macchiatos you resolved to just be as gentle on yourself as possible this semester. You had faced high stress and lost enough sleep last semester over things that were not worth it in the long run, and the thought of handling things the same way again felt draining. Even if it meant looking like a dumbass in front of the class asking wtf anything meant after reading a wall of text, you were going to put in effort in doing well to avoid issues later on and nothing was going to distract you. Not even soft, perfectly messy hair or pretty brown eyes or pillowy lips that curled around words so perfectly you had to restrain yourself from daydreaming.

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[rainforestgeek]

If you lose your strength to stand (I”m gonna reach for your hand) pt. 12 “Enemies, and their Power”

Part 11

AO3 link

Being American, I reserve the right to make digs at the U.S.

--

Pidge took a deep gulp from her caffeinated fruit-tea (God bless Hunk, honestly). The hangar where Hunk, Lotor, and Allura worked on the quintessence ships was huge and had catwalks all along the walls. Pidge had hit dead end after dead end with tracking Haggar through the clone until she was absolutely ready to scream. Once she realized she was just staring at the wall instead of working, Pidge took her equipment from the Green hangar to perch on one of the catwalks.

Allura had just walked out to go to the bridge. She passed by Pidge’s perch close enough that Pidge overheard her conversation with Lance – those comm earrings were pretty loud.

Keith was such a fucking hypocrite.

Pidge had never quite forgotten the day that, over a year ago, Keith yelled at her for trying to leave Voltron and find her family. He’d hurled accusations at her like a firing squad. He’d called her selfish. That’d hit too close to home. She remembered his voice echoing in her head alongside the voices of school kids who’d said she was cold or weird or didn’t care about anyone but her robots. She didn’t get that expectation that she had to feel for strangers; it’s not like she had the time or energy to prioritize everyone in the world.

Of course Pidge had learned a lot since then. There was such a thing as caring without that visceral wrench in her stomach. She could understand and prioritize the good for people she didn’t know and love. There was such a thing as empathy without instinct.

But it wasn’t fair that Keith thought he could run away from the war he used to dive headfirst into. He’d been all invested when Shiro had been here, when he’d had his family. He shouldn’t talk about selfish.

Pidge hoped Lance would snap him out of whatever weird-ass funk this was. If she had to work despite her grief then so did Keith.

Meanwhile, the Shiro-clone was still in stasis. Presumably, if he was being monitored, manipulated, and controlled by Haggar, it would be through the mechanical arm. It’s probably not as efficient as having it hooked up directly to the brain, but Hunk was certain that access through the shoulder into the central nervous system was sufficient. Even with the change of scenery (which often helped her think) Pidge was about ready to throw her laptop at the wall, though, because no matter what she tried the arm software was a fucking dead end.

Actually, no, never the laptop no matter how angry or frustrated she got. That computer was her baby. She’d built it back on Earth and added a ton of Altean modifications to the hardware – including some incredibly impressive RAM that allowed her to multitask like a crazy person and put the computer’s original 64 GB to shame.

Pidge pulled up the clone’s medical records. The cryo-pod did a full body scan twice a varga and she’d linked the data to continuously upload to her laptop (thank you, alien random access memory), focusing on the CNS. And –

Okay, that was different. The original clone scans showed no distinction between those of the real Shiro, allowing for expected discrepancies on the cellular and molecular levels due to time passing. One of the things the pods monitored closely was an individual’s quintessence. She was no biologist, but Pidge did grasp the basic concepts of thermodynamics and the quintessence seemed to be deteriorating. She didn’t know what it meant, though.

A hefty creaking noise distracted her. Hunk pulled his way onto the catwalk and settled in beside her. “Pidge. Can I chew your ear for a minute?”

“Aren’t you busy?”

“Lotor went to make some, uh, conference calls, I think.”

Pidge glared at the computer screen and decided to fuck it, she’s not getting anywhere with this anyway. “Yeah, why not. Shoot.”

Hunk blew out a puff of air. “We’ve made a lot of progress on the technology. Allura’s been working on adapting the ships to travel between universes and I’m really close to finding the most efficient ways to collect and contain the energy. It’s just, um…what if we aren’t doing the right thing here, Pidge?”

She eyed him. “If we can end the war without more war, I’m all for it. I know I wasn’t on board at first, and I’m no economist, but this seems like a good way to stabilize the universe.”

“I’m just thinking. Humans and galra have one big thing in common: exhausting resources. Sure, the quintessence field seems endless now, but the same can be said for every single resource humans overexploited in history. We don’t know how this could affect the universe.” He was getting worked up.

“Hunk.” Pidge placed a hand on his wrist, knowing he takes comfort from even small touches. “You’re a huge part of this project. You and Allura can find a way to make this harvesting sustainable.”

He hummed. His bushy eyebrows drew together.

Pidge continued, “Is this really the only thing bugging you?”

“I’m not…convinced doing this harvesting will lead to peace. Like, I get why Lotor thinks this will solve things,” Hunk said in a low voice. “Increase supply, satisfy demand, spare bad harvesting practices etc. But what do the galra need all this quintessence for?”

“I don’t know, space ships? Power grids? Fuel?…Weapons?”

“Exactly. These guys have been conquering for thousands of years. How can we be sure they won’t just keep conquering when we hand over the power?”

Pidge massaged her temples. “I hear you Hunk, but I’m way out of my depth here. I’d rather trust that Allura and Lotor know way more about alien politics and economics than I do, you know, being born rulers and everything.”

“Since when did you trust Lotor?”

Pidge finally tore her eyes away from the screen and leaned in close to Hunk. “I trust Allura. Do you, do you think Lotor can pull the wool over her eyes?”

“Yeah, well, the man has only been a military strategist for several millennia, I think it’s probable.”

Pidge pulled up another window. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been keeping up with the news. Lotor is on the manhunt for any and all galra factions who don’t pledge loyalty to him. And most of the ones who have are extracting their control over recently conquered sectors. It’s a start.”

“How do you completely reform a culture that’s built on war and conquest?”

“Rome and America became republics, didn’t they?”

Hunk groaned and rubbed his eyes. “It’s so complicated. I wish I could just fix up these ships and that would automatically make everything okay.”

She patted his shoulder. “I know the feeling. I’m confused here, too. Look.”

“Aren’t those scans of the fake Shiro? Why…man I can’t read these, why’s the blue glowing in the middle getting dimmer in each picture?”

“It’s his quintessence. It’s deteriorating. But look, it didn’t start until after we put him in stasis, see? The readings are exactly the same between the scan of Shiro and the very first scan of the clone.”

Understanding lit up Hunk’s face. Good, good, thermodynamics were safe, comprehensible ground. “And that’s when the energy started wasting away. Nothing’s regenerating the quintessence. Pidge, Haggar’s magic!”

She banged her fist on the catwalk. The echoing clang make Hunk flinch. “Of course! I should’ve figured that out. If it doesn’t make sense, then magic.” She huffed a sigh. “But if there’s no magic connected to the clone then that means I can’t trace it. It’s another dead end.”

Hunk was quiet for a few minutes, while Pidge stewed in her failure.

"Although," Hunk said, "Zarkon was obsessed with quintessence for his own personal use. He's gone now and if we get rid of Haggar too, then the demand should go down significantly. She's our biggest threat right now and with so much of the military devoted to Lotor he should be able to keep the rogues in check, right?"

Pidge shut her laptop. "See, you figured it out. What do you need me for."

---

“So let me get this straight.”

It was first thing in the morning, and they were in the Blade-equivalent of a conference room with Krolia and Kolivan. Lance pressed his fingertips to his temple like he was trying to organize something in his head (except in Keith’s experience, that usually happened out loud).

Lance gestured to Krolia. “You were undercover at Ranveig’s base, where he intercepted mega-powerful quintessence and accidentally used it to create a terrifying robeast but without the robot parts. Which you both then sic-ed onto a different general attacking the base so you could escape and presumably that thing is still on the planet.

“And you’ve tracked the quintessence to its source but it’s guarded by impenetrable space-time anomalies and we don’t know who was shipping it.”

Keith said, “It does fit Haggar’s M.O.”

Lance sighed. “We should call the Castle of Lions and get them in on this meeting.”

--

Pidge just about leapt out of her skin (and did leap out of her bed) at the loud, insistent banging on her door. She tripped over something on her floor and narrowly avoided face-planting in a pile of dirty socks.

“Pidge! Pidge, wake up!”

Vision still kinda fuzzy from sleep, she scrambled to her feet to slam her hand against the door panel. It hissed open as Hunk prepared to pound on it again. Had he been any shorter he would have punched Pidge in the head, but as it was his fist met thin air and he had to windmill his arms to not fall on her.

“Hunk! What is it? What’s happening?” Pidge demanded.

“Whoa, hey chill out. There’s no emergency.”

She glared at him. “Did you just scare me awake for shits and giggles? Do you have any idea how loud it is when you bang on a metal surface?!”

Because he was the worst, Hunk flat-out ignored her tirade. “Your brother, Lance, and Keith want everyone on a conference call. We’ve been trying to wake you up for half an hour.”

Pidge took a deep breath in through her nose. Then let it out. “If you value our continued friendship, you will get me the largest canteen you can find and fill it to the brim with the not-coffee. And it better fucking be hot.”

It was hot, and she and everyone else were soon in front of multiple huge screens showing her brother, her missing teammates, Kolivan, and another galra she didn’t recognize. The first thing that happened was Keith held up a placating hand before Allura could lay into him.

“I know what you’re going to say, and I’m sorry for leaving without telling you guys why. I got overwhelmed and needed to do something. But it won’t happen again.”

Allura drummed her fingers irritably. “It better not.”

“And by something,” Lance interjected, “Keith here means he had to have some face time with his LONG LOST MOTHER. Guys, meet Krolia, Keith’s galra mom!”

Pidge choked mid-drink and spewed liquid all over Hunk. Fucking what????

“Pidge, did you just do an actual spit take?” Lance demanded, blatantly ignoring the irritated glare Keith was shooting him.

“Did you deliberately wait until I was taking a sip to say that?”

“Depends.”

“Okay, you two can flirt later,” Matt said. Lance’s entire face and neck flushed. “We have important news.”

They proceeded to explain the quintessence the super-powerful quintessence, the spacetime equivalent of a minefield they’d tracked it to, and their suspicions that Haggar was somehow mining it to fuel her military and her magic.

Pidge downed the rest of her “caffeine” in two gulps.

“We believe the source is behind the quantum abyss, rather than the abyss itself,” Kolivan was explaining. “If we can cut Haggar off from her major quintessence supply then we stand a far greater chance at permanently vanquishing her forces.”

Krolia spoke, “The tricky part is navigating the abyss. It requires precise calculations and the consequences of being trapped inside would be dire.”

“Hunk, Pidge, think you can work through those calculations?” Keith asked.

They responded with a synchronous “probably.” Pidge thanked God she now had a new project to work on. One more day with the stupid clone arm and she was gonna lose her hair.

“I believe I know where that quintessence is coming from.” Lotor’s cool voice silenced the entire room. Pidge noticed with shock that his face had gone paper-white. He looked like the ghost of a general rather than a living emperor.

“It is a place I have not been to in some time."

Part 13

[stardust-and-blades]

Lost Future AU--snapshots 2 (part 8-ish?)

“This can’t get any more painful”

me: hold my beer

------------------

“No. Nope. Not going.”

“Oh come on, Keith.” Lance begged. “It will be fun! If we want to wow the guests we need to learn some choreography.”

“YOU want to learn choreography.” Keith pointed out, crossing his arms. “I would rather stand at the sidelines and watch as you dance with Hunk and Pidge.”

Lance tapped him on the nose with a wooden spatula, the food he was making on pause. “No, that isn’t romantic. That is sad.”

Keith scrunched up his nose. “It’s not sad, it’s practical.”

“It’s stupid.”

Keith growled, frustrated. “I’m not doing it. I’m not going to make a fool of myself in front of over fifty people.”

Keith hopped off the kitchen stool and began to head for the room, ignoring Lance’s call. He heard him swear, no doubt putting the food on simmer and chasing after him. Keith made it a point to lock the bedroom door, Lance turning the handle and swore again.

“Keith, open the door.”

He remained silent, leaning against the bed frame and picked up his headphones, prepping to drown out Lance’s begging.

“Keeeeeiiith, please open the door. I know you hate dancing but I swear on my life you’ll do great. We have two months, we have time.”

Keith bit down on his flaring temper. God, why can’t he just let it go? He loves Lance, but sometimes he just doesn’t give up.

“Okay, how about this,” Lance reasoned. “We go to the lessons. If you’re still not comfortable by our last session, we don’t have to dance. I’ll let Hunk and Pidge take the wheel and do something else together. But...”

Keith stopped mid-earphone, one half hanging from his neck while the other neared his ear, rock music on full blast.

“But?”

There is a shift against the door, Lance most likely leaning his head against it. Not to hear, but in a way for him to be closer to Keith. To surpass the barrier Keith has drawn up, be it physical or mental. Keith knew he shouldn’t be this worked up. He usually isn’t. But venturing on unfamiliar territory in front of friends and family...it stirs something inside him that makes him feel wrong.

Nevertheless, that doesn’t mean he wanted to ignore Lance’s wishes. He wanted to dance with him. To create a memory they can look back on in fondness. Yet he knew, just knew he would fuck up. He doesn’t want to ruin the wedding in any way, no matter how big or small it was. 

“But I want you by my side.” Lance said softly. “Hunk and Pidge are fun to dance with. But you? We never really tried. I want to hold you close to me. I want our first steps in our marriage to be a dance, because that is what being in a relationship with you has been: beautiful and free. You make me happy, Keith. And I want to show it to everyone. I want to show YOU off. Again, we will do what is most comfortable, but it...would mean the world to me if we could try.”

Now how was Keith going to say no to that?

He relented, casting his phone and headphones away and opened the door.

“Fine.”

Lance clapped his hands and hugged him before Keith pointed out the food may be burning.

--------------------------------

Keith and Lance were just finishing up their dance lessons for the wedding one day, Keith’s two left feet definitely getting the best of their teacher by the end of the night. Lance insisted they have a dance as husbands, and though Keith likes the idea of it, he wasn’t much of a dancer. In fact, he made it a point he skipped his spring fling and prom in high school because A: he had no one to go with, and B: can’t dance to save his life. Engage in combat? Yes. Lovingly twirl around a ballroom for an hour? Might as well be asking him to fly. 

The teacher had left by the time the two changed back into their regular clothes, Keith in t-shirt and jeans with a hoodie over it and a beanie, while Lance sported more fashionable wear. The only clashing article he was wearing was his plastic bracelets, some saying ‘free the nipple’ and another saying ‘just getting bi”. 

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to waltz anytime soon.” Keith commented, hauling his bag over his shoulder. 

“Not with that attitude you won’t. Come on, it’s not a wedding without dancing.”

“I know, I know.” He pulled at his long hair, a nervous habit. “But you saw today. I’m pretty sure the instructor will have bruises for days.”

Lance laughed and walked over to his fiance, wrapping his hands around his waist and kissing his forehead. “Oh I noticed. Who would have thought the combat specialist would be bad at dancing.”

“It’s Krav maga. And the two are very different.”

“Both involve being quick on your feet.”

Keith sighed. “What are you getting at?”

“That you can dance. Just think of it as another way of fighting.”

“That’s hard to do with someone I love. I only wanted to kick your ass when we hardly knew each other and you were being a di--”

Suddenly the arms around Keith’s waist were gone and he was spinning, the lowering sun blurred into an abundance of oranges and yellows. He was falling to the ground, Keith bracing himself for impact. But instead an arm caught him by the waist, the other hand holding his. Lance was smirking down at him, proud of his ability to surprise the boy who was always on guard. Always ready for Lance’s antics. But this time he had him, and he did not hesitate to show his pride. Keith stared back at him, split between making heart eyes our retaliate.

“Someone is speechless.”

“Um...Uh...” His face slowly grew red, his pale skin not helping him in concealing it. “You just...caught me off guard.”

“Yes I did.” Lance grinned and bent down, closing the distance between the two. Keith tilted his head up, his eyes fluttering until--

Keith knocked Lance’s feet from under him and stood up, just barely catching the screaming boy from impact. Keith pulled his arm and looked back at him, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Who is speechless now?”

“No fair! You know you can’t use your skills against the innocent!”

“What you going to do, fight me?” Keith invited him with a quirk of his eyebrow and shift in stance, but Lance just pouted, crossing his arms.

“Cheater.”

“Scaredy cat.”

“I am not scared!” He proclaimed indignantly.

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

“You do not want to tempt me.”

Keith just smiled more, that smug glint sparkling in his amethyst eyes. They shown with such a brilliance in the low light, the darkness fading away and making them appear as if they were pure gems. Keith stance took on one readying for an attack, one foot backwards and the other forward. He straightened his back, puts his hands out, and waited. Of course he really didn’t think Lance would take him up on his challenge. They had this kind of bickering before, Lance usually sticking his tongue out and walking away, or was the one doing the daring.

Keith really wasn’t serious in his stance, for he jumped when Lance straight up ran to him. But rather than slam his body against the wall or floor, he seized Keith by his waist and lifted him. Keith squawked, losing his balance and almost toppling onto the taller boy. Lance was unnaturally strong, something he hid by his lanky-ness. 

Keith steadied himself by placing his hands on Lance’s shoulders, staring him down.

“What are you doing?”

“Proving a point.”

“In what? That you are bad at combat and want to swoon the enemy?”

He shook his head. Rather than answering, he dropped Keith and took his gloved hand and his other arm wrapped around the smaller boy, pulling him close. “Proving you can learn a thing or two from me.”

It took a moment for it to process in Keith’s flustered brain. “You are not going to teach me how to dance.”

“Oh I am.” Lance smiled. “If you can fight, you can dance.”

He reached inside the pocket of his jeans and extracted a remote, aiming it to the speaker on a table in a far corner. “Chasing Stars” by Fleurie came one, one of the few songs the two agreed to play at their wedding. Keith wondered for a minute how he got the remote from the instructor, but his thoughts were interrupted from Lance pulling Keith. 

“Just follow my lead.” Lance said. Keith tried to copy his steps; tried not to hurt his toes. His eyes remain on the floor, watching his feet closely that he forgets the rhythm. Forgets who he was dancing with. Lance did so well with the instructor, Keith wanted to be a pro as well. Or at least, pro enough he wont make a fool of himself in front of fifty people. Maybe more. Oh God Lance has a big family. What if they laugh at him? What would he--

A hand pulled Keith’s chin up. They stopped, Lance’s blue eyes washing over Keith’s nerves. Sending out a current to silence his worries over the future, blind faith in the partner he would have in life. 

“Keep your eyes on me. Go with the music. You trust me, don’t you?”

Keith’s shoulders relaxed. “Always.”

Thus, they danced. Lance twirled him, spinning the other into the embrace of inner surprise. Dipped his body in quiet elation. Waltz him in the shining lights, his heart fluttering with each step of their feet. Lifting him up, giving him a chance to reach out to the stars. The room no longer existed, replaced by an empty field and bright stars smiling down on them; wrapping the couple in its arms and whisking them into an array of euphoria and adoration.

And for once, Keith didn’t step on his toes. He kept his eyes on Lance, his careful, analytical look disappearing into a wide grin. He might as well be dancing on air, because he felt weightless. They were the only two people that mattered in the world. Just two boys so deeply in love the gods sent down their blessings in a form of clear skies and easy, beautiful movement. 

They were two wandering souls searching the earth for their missing piece. Now they are complete, the missing puzzle piece snugged comfortably in their chests. Keith never thought he would be this lucky. This happy. If he could freeze time, he would just to bask in the moment. But then again, there really is no reason for it. They are getting married and will have the rest of their lives to dance and love each other.

When the song ended, Lance pulled Keith close to him as before, their hands linked as Lance held Keith against him, chest to Keith’s back and arms reaching forward while Keith kept him close. 

“Told you you could do it.” Lance whispered, tender and soft. 

“I have a good teacher.”

With that, Keith angled his head to kiss Lance, the song long over but the dance continuing.

----------------

“Yes, I need to cancel. Yes I’m aware reservations take months to years. No I--look, the wedding is cancelled. No we weren’t unhappy, it just didn’t work out. Yup. Uhuh. You too, goodbye.” Lance says, finishing up with the phone call to the venue. As soon as he clicks the red button he sighs, resting his head on the kitchen table. It has been a grueling day in cancellations and setting up the viewing, Lance’s battered body screaming at him to rest. Allura and Shiro offered to take it over for him, but he shrugged them off, declaring it is his responsibility. 

Now he is wondering if it really was a good idea to leave him alone.

He still has to cancel the catering, flower arrangements, honeymoon reservations, inform the bridesmaids and groomsmen of unfortunate circumstances, the damn limo, and return the wedding rings. 

The last one he is not looking forward to. Just looking at Keith’s engagement ring around his neck hurts. Physically going into the shop and “enlightening” the store of current events is sure to leave him aching. And it wont be his bones. 

He tiredly glances to his left. A framed photo lies flat on its front, the contents hidden away in a vain effort to preserve what is left of Lance’s heart. Yet he is compelled to reach out, grasping the smooth wood and flipping it up.

It is a picture of Lance and Keith at the dance studio, Lance angling the camera like a selfie to capture the moment. Keith was leaning against him, a small but adoring smile while Lance full on grinned, all teeth and painful cheek muscles. Lance didn’t care at the time. He was too overwhelmed with the fact he was to marry the boy he admired and sought for in a couple of months. 

Both of their feet hurt after that day. But they didn’t care. It was fun. and filled with hope.

God, why did he think leaving in that snowstorm was a good idea? Why? Keith was even weary of it. He should have listened. Maybe then, maybe--

No, he can’t think about the accident right now. He needs to cancel shit. start working on the funeral. Get Keith’s body out of the morgue as soon as possible. He is cold and alone. Lance doesn’t want him left that way for too long.

He left the photo and puts on his jacket--well, put on one half. The other is trapped in a cast. He inserts his earbuds and heads out the door, the jewelry shop a couple blocks away. Lance can’t drive with one arm, so walking it is.

When he nears the shop he pauses his music, readying himself for the worst discussion of his life.

Then, he hears it.

It’s subtle; quiet, a whisper in the wind. The familiar high octave voice and elegant piano surpassing the hurrying sounds of traffic. It’s melody slowly wrapping around Lance’s still form at the end of the crosswalk, choosing to settle around his neck as his back hits brick.

It came from one of the shops, but Lance cannot pinpoint which one. All he knew is it is the same one Lance and Keith danced to in the photo, and it might as well have stabbed him. He shoves the earbuds farther in his ear and cranks the music. He ducks his head down and works to ignore the haunting voice, no doubt following him as he walks down the crowded streets. It isn’t until he reaches the jewelry store did he take a breath.

Jewelry stores are usually silent. Silent or playing mainstream music at low volume that you’d have to sneak into the back just to hear the lyrics perfectly. He should be safe. 

Oh but how wrong he is. As soon as he takes out his earbuds and approaches one of the nicely dressed sellers with an over-the-top grin, the same song begins to play. At first, Lance doesn’t notice it right away. He is busy messing with his backpack, only able to use one arm. The woman helping him offered assistance, but he shrugs her off. He has his hand around the boxes and was about to hand the receipt over to the woman when his ears perked up, curiosity killing the cat. 

His hand stops. The woman asks him a question, no doubt wondering when he purchased it and if the return is valid. Lance doesn’t hear her. He is engulfed by the song, its melody slithering up his spine and curling around his neck, the noose tightening with each word, with each hit or strum of the instruments. 

Touching the clouds, never get found Shoot straight up, never come down Lets get lost chasing stars Out on the edge, losing our breath Hearts on fire in our chests Lets get lost chasing stars, lets get lost, lets get lost chasing stars, chasing stars (stars, stars)

“Sir? Sir, are you alright?” The woman asks, concern etched in her eyes. 

No. No he isn’t alright. He feels like he is choking. Being choked. Strangled by the song. Clawing at the imaginary hands reaching out from the rings, the fingers scratching deep cuts into his flesh. His lungs are on fire, his legs growing weak. The room seems to spin, his nails gripping onto the glass as a way to prevent him from falling. Falling into the abyss waiting for him. He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s--

He is not okay.

“Sir?” 

Lance’s knees buckle, the rings falling with him and clattering. He needs to breathe. How can he breathe? 

Keith’s bright eyes flash through his memories, his laugh echoing in the middle of the song as Lance spun them around the studio.

“Slow down! I’m going to trip!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.”

It should have been him. The doctors even said, it should have been HIM. He was the driver. He was the one who insisted on leaving. He was the one who’s side was the most damaged. 

He should have protected Keith, not the other way around. 

It should have been him.

Lance covered his mouth with his uninjured hand, the tears he was holding back overtaking his shut down. His breath came out labored, and without so much as a care in the world over the worried employee and growing crowd, he sobbed. 

[iammarylastar]

5. Donut, 1304. “Tell me more about Alabama, is there any family of yours left?”

We’re enjoying the sandwiches she’s made, everything is perfect, mostly the view I have of my angel, sitting on the blanket I spread on the grass near a little creek, sunbeam dancing on her beautiful features.

OK. Let’s sum up what nonsense my life has been before her.

“Alabama was wonderful, as long as my mother was still with us. The scum of the Earth that was my father owned a farm where my brother and I worked hard. He let my mom die from the flu, spending the slightest penny in alcohol. No money left for the doctor. She died the winter of my 17 years. I left without looking back after I buried her, alone in the cemetery, my bro and that dickhead too busy to celebrate the funeral getting wasted with fake booze. I did odd jobs through the state before signing up for the army which became my real family. I remember thinking… nah, it’s silly.”

Her sweet gaze encourages me to go on, as my fingers tear blades of grass and daisies up from the ground.

“I remember thinking I could be closer to her up there, I liked to picture her face in the clouds. That’s how I became a pilot.”

I chuckle, I’ve never opened up to anyone before. I don’t want to sound too whiny or childish, though I don’t feel like she’s judging me. I feel like I could spit all my sins out and she would still stay here with me.

“I’d like to go back to Alabama when the war ends, back to the farm if it still exists. You know to do something else than blowing up things. I want to build things with my bare hands, I dream of better days, a simple life, a family… Sorry, this sounds so boring…”

The truth is I’ve started dreaming about building a family since the first time we talked.

“Please, no, I like to hear you speaking of better days. I find it…”

“Cute?” I lift an eyebrow, teasing her.

“Yeah, cute.” She laughs.

“What about you? How does a beautiful angel like you end up in a military base in the middle of the Pacific?”

“I’m sorry to tell you your life doesn’t deserve the award of the saddest story of the year. My dad was a Colonel of the U.S. Army. Both my parents died 3 years ago in a car accident. As a ward of state, I was sent to a boarding school for girls, while my older sister married Gessepp who was a friend of our father. He’s 15 years older than Jessica but he used to be nice when he came home for dinner. He helped a lot after they died and when he proposed to my sister, we both thought he would take good care of us. He changed after their wedding. He turned into a disgusting pig, a drunk, racist, misogynistic asshole, who just treated Jess like shit. He stopped beating her when she was expecting their child, but it’s been twice as bad since Abigail was born. He insisted to call her Abigail "the joy of her father”, fuck me, he hates having a girl. Jess did her best to protect her but she’s been so weak after the birth, she begged me to come here and take care of the baby.“

She pauses, her eyes shining with tears, which makes me love her even more. I hate knowing her sad or upset. Or not safe.

"Does he hit you too?” I ask, figuring out the answer.

She rolls her eyes, only to prevent warm tears to spring from her eyelids. Uselessly.

Brushing quickly her cheek with the back of her hand, she looks at me straight in the eyes, begging me not to go further.

“Please, don’t waste this perfect day with unpleasant things. Let’s say Jess and I do what has to be done to keep the baby safe.”

My blood is boiling in my veins, I wish I could wrap myself around her and never let her go, keeping her safe in my arms, along with Jessica and Abigail.

“One day, Cup. One day after the war ends, when we’re back to America, Jessica, the baby and me will leave him. We will run away from him and settle down somewhere he couldn’t find us and have the peaceful life we want. I could be a teacher and provide for my family. I too dream for better days.”

Oh Angie let me save you. Let’s dream of better days together. Let’s live them together.

I have to cheer her up, I can’t stand the hint of sadness in her eyes. Let’s start a show.

I grab a home made pastry, a donut covered with icing sugar and lift it up, like a trophy.

“OK. You won hands down. Your story is the saddest I’ve ever heard. I have the great honour to give you this well deserved donut as an award for your bravery and strength. I’m proud of you and sincerely stunned by your cooking and sewing skills. I wish you the best for your future, and I hope I could be a part of it.”

“Amen!” She laughs.

I laugh with her, despite I’ve never been more serious.

I lift the donut to her lips, so she can take a bite, then I push it up on purpose, covering her nose with icing sugar.

She startles and looks at me, puzzled, for just a second, before bursting into laughter, I heartily follow.

“No, no!” She grabs another donut and hands it to my mouth.

“You ranked a close second. You deserve this one as an award for being the cutest man I’ve ever met, despite your shitty past and the disability you have to keep your shirts dry and clean. I wish this damn war could end in a couple of days, so you would fly us back home, away from this all this shit.”

“What woman wants…”

I stare at her, my need to take her lips stronger than ever, my stomach burns like hell and her eyes teasing me just fuels my desire.

I snap at the donut she holds before me, but that little devil jerks it back and I almost bite my own tongue.

Smirking mischievously, she teases me again, shaking the donut under my nose.

She fools me twice before I grab her wrist, pull her hand to my mouth and take a huge bite of the donut, like a half of it.

It’s jelly filled. Raspberries. Delicious.

She bursts into laughter again while I chew the huge piece, trying my best not to choke or spit it out as I laugh with her.

My mouth and chin are covered with jam that’s running down, she quickly swipes it with her fingers, which unwillingly end up in her mouth.

Her laugh stops as she realizes she’s licking her fingers, my own face crumbling into pieces obviously showing her the hotness of the moment.

I swallow hard as my grip on her wrist tightens, my thumb stroking gently the soft skin of its back.

She on purpose takes her time to lick each drop on her forefinger, ending with a pop that sends shivers through my spine. The way she looks at me doing that… Oh God help me!

I’m close to eating her up, my brain shouts at me “Kiss her now!”

My guts twist painfully, the drool in my mouth tastes metallic, you know that little thing just before you kiss someone for the first time.

I know that feeling, I’ve kissed a ton of chicks before. Except that I’m in love with her, like, totally.

And it freezes me, I’m paralyzed. My brain shows me billions of flashes of me kissing her lips but my body refuses to move.

I know, I feel she wants it too, as badly as me, by the way her eyes caress my lips.

She slowly raises her fingers back up to my face, brushing lightly along my jawline, wiping the rest of the jam off the corner of my lips, then letting her fingertips wandering along my bottom lip. So slowly.

God strike me down if I’ve ever lived a sexier moment in my damn whole life.

I can’t help, Jesus I try but I can’t help but opening my mouth, moving my lips to kiss the pads of her digits.

The gasp she makes finishes to undo me. Her hooded eyes are begging me for more, and I can’t seriously deceive her.

I open my lips and nip gently at her pads, before licking and sucking on them.

Holy shit I doubt I’ll survive.

Our eyes locked, lost in each others, the world stops existing around us.

Her smile vanishes, her lips slightly open in a sexy pout, I’m gonna die.

The urge to kiss her takes over, my hand lets go off her wrist and runs up her arm, goosebumps rising all the way up to her neck.

My heart is close to exploding as I comb her hair back, my fingers entangled in the jungle of her hair, tilting her head so her lips are offered to me.

She just melts into my touch and let the sexiest sigh out, closing her eyes shut, waiting for more.

My lips land on the tip of her nose, stealing the icing sugar laying there, making the drool multiply under the sweetness of the moment.

I lightly brush my nose against hers as my lips burn to meet hers, so close the air she breathes tickles my face.

Pulling her face to me, I just kiss her.

Gentle and slow.

Her lips under mines are soft and wet

and the sound of her taking small breaks for air between our kisses is a serious turn on.

Like I needed some.

I struggle hard not to use my tongue, afraid she’d think I’m going too fast or too far.

My sweet angel once again surprises me when she slips her tongue out and dares to lick my lips, parting them gently, begging me to deepen the kiss.

I gladly comply and with a grunt, open my mouth and taste her.

Jesus, she tastes like Heaven.

Beside my lips and tongue kissing her and my fingers in her hair, there’s no part of us touching, which is a torture. We’re sitting close to each other but it’s obviously not enough.

My free hand moves around her tiny waist and I effortlessly lift her up and settle her down on me. Her limbs instinctively find their way so she straddles me, her hand grips my collar before stroking the back of my neck, pulling me deeper in the kiss.

She rests on her knees, each side of me, using leverage not to sit completely on my lap.

My hands leave her waist to travel north, her dress is bareback just under her shoulder blades so I have plenty of skin to stroke.

She’s all over me, eating my mouth, I have to fight not to fall on my back. Though I appreciate her enthusiasm, I don’t think I could be able to stop if we laid on the ground. And I don’t want to take her like this.

Oh yes I want to, trust me, but not here, not for our first date.

She told me she’s never been with a man before, being her first kiss is already a blessing.

The gentleman in me knows it’s not the right time, begs me to keep control and my cock in my pants, yells at me to cool down.

I cross my arms in her lower back, just to keep our balance, but it accidentally invites her to finally sit completely on my lap.

Let’s be honest, on my fucking boner.

A loud grunt leaves my lung as she gasps and startles, but quickly melts upon me.

Holy fuck!

Still cleaning my tonsils, she pushes lightly her hips against me and the moan that escapes her mouth screams me how good it feels for her too.

Now glued against my crotch, she starts to rock her hips slowly but firmly and I’m sure this will be the end of my life.

The gentleman supposed to help me to regain control just shot himself, quickly replaced by my old demon who suggests to roll her under me and rip her garment off.

Jesus, I can feel her wetness pooling through my own pants!

“Angie…” she doesn’t hear me.

“Angie, please…”

She hums, still absorbed in kissing my soul and it kills me to end this.

I have to push her back a little to stare gently at her. She’s on fire, it breaks my heart to tell her:

“Angie, baby, we have to stop.”

Puzzled and disappointed she looks at me like to ask if she’s done something wrong.

“We have to stop now before it’s too late. I don’t want us to do something you’re not ready for…

Oh trust me I want you so bad it hurts but I don’t think we should… ahhm…I don’t think I could…

Keep kissing me like this and I won’t answer for your virtue.

She frowns and pouts at first, in a so adorable way it’s hard not to kiss her again, then realizes what I’m talking about and blushes, her cheeks already flushed by our kisses.

She sighs deeply, combs her disheveled hair  back then stares at me with an indecipherable look.

"Take off your shirt”

@jaihardy @jaicourtneyseyes @kenzieam @captstefanbrandt @pathybo @jojuarez26 @tigpooh67

@onceinabillionlifetimes, @bookgirlthings href=“https://tmblr.co/m9JHX1l4S6qx4dGSAX5BJ0Q”>@kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995, @oddsnendsfanfics, @sajess98 @societalfailure @red-diary @pernilleals

[btsiguess]

This Is Just To Say (m) - 2

Summary: To say it’s unusual to have a soulmate is an understatement, and most people desperately wish to have an elegant name scrawled upon their wrist. In reality though, you’d have to say it causes much more issues than it solves.

Pairing: Yoongi/Reader (slight Namjoon/Reader; Jungkook/Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst

Word Count: 3151

Warnings: Philosophy chat (gross), Philosophy major bashing, me guessing over baseball? Having to imagine Jungkook in that baseball uniform *fans self* 

A/N: Wow guys, I’m honestly pretty floored by the notes the first chapter got in just one day! To express my thanks, here’s another chapter, and then after this I’ll be updating probably on a regular schedule? But I haven’t decided if it’ll be once a week or twice a week? Opinions? RIP.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

The baseball game was already well underway when you both arrived, and you clutched the ticket Namjoon had insisted on paying for in your hand while you made your way through the stands. Namjoon led the way, his phone out as he texted Taehyung and you felt grateful that you didn’t have to push your way through the crowd by yourself.

Tae raised his hand and waved at you when he spotted you, sending you both a thousand-watt smile.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” He cried as you sat down next to him, Namjoon on your opposite side.

“Baseball is boring and I’m never really sure I know what’s going on. You’d think that after being friends with a baseball player for like, an entire decade I’d know something about the sport. But I just… don’t.” Tae continued.

You and Namjoon both laugh, and Namjoon briefly tries to explain a bit about baseball to you, but you just shrug him off.

“I’m really only here to look at the boys in uniform, I don’t need to know what’s going on!” You tease before turning to the boy on your other side, “Tae, babe, which one is your friend?”

“Ah, Kookie? He’s the pitcher!”

You glance briefly towards the game, but you’re too far away to really make anything out. Just looks like baseball, really.

“Do we get to meet him finally?” Namjoon asks, “After the game? You talk about him a lot!”

“I was honestly beginning to think you made him up to seem cooler.” You laugh.

“You are honestly such a twerp, Y/N. But yes Namjoon, you guys can meet him after if you want. It’s not my fault you’ve never come with me to a game before.”

“Don’t push your luck now,” you say, “we can still get up and leave you to your misery here. Joonie and I are full of spite.”

“You already paid to get in, what you’re just going to waste your money?” He shoots back.

“Actually Joonie paid for me, so I wouldn’t be losing anything.”

“Shut up Y/N we both know you’re too nice to do that to Joonie. You act all tough but really you love us.”

You sigh deeply and smile despite yourself. The little fucker was right and he knew it. There was no point in arguing with him.

Suddenly, the stands around you erupted into cheers, and Taehyung leapt to his feet. You leaned towards Namjoon as the cheering continued, the two of you opting to sit quietly rather than join the crowd.

“Thank you for buying me my ticket, Joonie.” You said to him, “You really didn’t have to.”

“It wasn’t a big deal. I feel like with all you shared with me tonight it was the least I could do.”

As you opened your mouth to protest he shushed you.

“It’s really fine, Y/N. I don’t think you understand how much I appreciate you telling me. Please, don’t make too much of a fuss over this.”

You nod quietly back, and for just a moment you forget where you are. You could definitely get lost in Namjoon’s eyes. He’s so handsome, you think before you abruptly realize where you are and who you’re with. That’s definitely going to be a whole huge can of worms, you think, but decide to do what every responsible adult does with their problems and ignore it.

You turn your attention to the baseball game once more, propping your head on your chin as you try to figure out what’s happening. Both Tae and Namjoon seem satisfied to watch the game as well, and it isn’t long before you’re actually invested in the outcome.

Tae’s friend -- Jungkook, your brain supplies -- is definitely good. You’re not that surprised, though. Tae brags all the time about how good his friend is. But still, even for someone who doesn’t particularly like baseball you’re enthralled with the way the pitcher plays. He basically strikes out everyone that comes up to the plate, and the few that manage to get past Jungkook seem just as surprised as the crowd.

The game passes by rather quickly and you feel a bit relieved when people begin shuffling out of the stands, amicably celebrating your school’s win. Tae jumps up and excitedly motions for you to follow him as he patters down the steps of the stand. He comes to rest behind the exit of the dugout, you and Namjoon close behind. Other people wait there as well, probably hoping to congratulate the players.

Tae makes the biggest scene however, his arms flailing over his head in an attempt to get the attention of his friend. You’re briefly struck with embarrassment, but Tae’s antics do the job and soon enough a boy who you assume is Jungkook comes bounding over.

He’s handsome, you think, but really that’s an understatement. He pulls Tae into a hug and you’re surprised by the effortless way the pitcher picks your friend up and spins him around.

As Jungkook places Tae down his eyes take in you and Namjoon and he smiles a bit at you, giving you a small wave.

“Ah!” Tae exclaims, “Kookie! These are the friends I’m always telling you about! Joonie and Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys, thanks for coming out! I’m, uh, I’m Jungkook” He rubs his hand along the back of his neck, shyly, and you can’t help but feel a little bit breathless over his arms. What the fuck?

Namjoon seems to notice that your attention is… elsewhere and speaks up first.

“Hey man, good to meet you. I know you probably get it a lot, but you’ve got a hell of an arm on you!”

His arms…

“Thank you, I really appreciate it!”

Tae elbows you discreetly and it snaps you out of your reverie.

“Really!” you say a bit too loudly, cringing internally at your awkwardness, “I don’t know anything about baseball, and even I can tell you’re something special!”

Something special? You cringe again, and pray quietly for the world to literally swallow you whole.

Jungkook, for his part, takes it like a champ; a light blush coloring his cheeks as he thanks you.

“Kookie! Come hang out with us!” Tae crows, wrapping his arms around his friend’s neck and for a moment Jungkook seems embarrassed. Still though the boy grunts out a quiet affirmative before turning to wave goodnight to his teammates.

After Jungkook changes out of his uniform you all decide to head back to Taehyung’s dorm for a bit, since his roommate was out. When you all piled into the little double Tae and Jungkook made a beeline for the room’s Playstation and couch, leaving you and Namjoon to sit on Taehyung’s bed.

“I feel like we are a married couple, watching our children…” you say to the man next to you.

He just chuckles in response.

“Oh please, Y/N, if we had children they’d be much smarter than these two brats.”

Jungkook chuckled as Tae threw his middle finger up without bothering to look away from the game.   

“Well, hey, we know Tae is beyond all hope but who knows? Jungkook might be really smart!” you respond and Jungkook bows his head bashfully.

“He’s not.” Tae says, and Jungkook sputters indignantly.

“Tae!” Namjoon scolds playfully, “Don’t be rude to your brother!”

“Sorry daddy.” Tae shoots back and the room descends into loud laughter and merciless teasing over the fact that Namjoon begins to blush furiously.

As the room begins to calm down, the door opens and Tae’s roommate enters, looking weary at first but brightening when he sees the group.

“Ah! Hey Tae, Kook… everyone else. Hi!”

“Jimin!” Tae cries, “I thought you didn’t get home from practice until later! Not that I’m upset you’re here, but you’re tired when you get home.”

“It’s no worries!” Jimin calls cheerfully, “We got out early since we did so well. It’s a blessing I was with Hoseok since we’re the two best dancers in the class. I’m up for hanging out, so don’t feel the need to rush away on my account!”

Again, Namjoon speaks up, providing your introductions for you. Jimin just smiles and waves in your direction.

“How do you know Tae?” he asks the two of you.

“Oh!” you reply, “We’re all Literature majors together!”

Jimin nods and lightly kicks Jungkook’s thigh.

“Let me play.” he says, “It’s my room.”

Jungkook grumbles as he relents. Looking around the room for a place to sit before you pat the bed next to you. With a slightly panicked look in his eye he settles in next to you, making sure to leave an appropriate amount of room between, a far cry from the way Namjoon was pressed virtually flush against your other side.

“Jungkook,” you say quietly, “what about you? What’s your major?”

Jungkook shuffles a bit, like he’s nervous. Cute.

“Ah! I’m undecided, actually. I’m here on a baseball scholarship. I didn’t originally want to come to college but… Tae convinced me to. I’m glad I came though, I just don’t know exactly what I want to do yet.”

“You should be a literature major with us!” you tease, “We could be like, a squad!”

“Yeah,” Namjoon pipes up, leaning over you to see the younger boy better, “or philosophy is really fun too!”

You make a retching sound in your throat.

“Don’t do that. Oh god.” You plead with Jungkook, “The philosophy majors are literally the worst! They just use their major as an excuse to parade their Nihilism, which like isn’t even cool. Like good job buddy, go not care somewhere else. I mean really, if you’re going to pick a pretentious philosopher to follow, do Gauthier.”

“You would like Gauthier.” Namjoon sighs.

“Gauthier?” Jungkook asks.

“Oh!” you say, “Gauthier’s philosophy was basically like, everyone only does stuff out of their own self interest. Even laws or rules you follow you follow because like, if everyone follows that rule then it’s a benefit to you so you’re just doing it so no one can point fingers. Really he was a selfish son of a bitch, but if we’re being honest? The more selfish the philosophy, the more I like it.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows at you.

“Well, okay but what if you decide to break the rules anyway?” he asks and you groan.

“Ugh, you’re just like Joonie. Maybe you should be a philosophy major. Damn.”

Joonie laughs and leans forward again.

“You should definitely consider it, kid. There’s not enough of us.”

You quietly hear Jungkook mutter that he isn’t a kid under his breath, but you’re too invested in telling Namjoon that there are definitely enough philosophy majors on this campus (in fact, you would argue there’s too many,) to engage with the boy’s comment.

“Y/N,” Jimin pipes up from the couch, “how do you know all that if you’re not a philosophy major?”

“I had to start learning philosophy on the down low so that the brats in philosophy club couldn’t spout false facts at me in our arguments.”

“Debates.” Namjoon corrects jovially, and you give him a sneer.

“So you’re basically learning a whole entire major just to… prove a point?” Jungkook asks.

“Absolutely.” you deadpan, and the boy laughs at you.

“Why don’t you just double major in Lit. and philosophy?” Jimin suggests.

“Um, because unlike some heathens in this room,” you stare pointedly at Namjoon, “I genuinely like myself too much to sit around with a bunch of hoity toity bitches who think they’re better than me just because they can spell “Nicomachean Ethics” right on the first try.”

“Fair enough.” Jimin responds.

“Yeah but don’t you think the amount of work you’re putting into proving them wrong makes you just as hoity toity?” Tae prods, and you briefly wonder if you could kill him right now without getting caught. Too many witnesses, you think.

Before you can shoot a snide comment back, Jungkook comes to your verbal rescue.

“I think it’s cool she’s passionate enough to learn all that stuff, even if it is out of spite. There’s no bad reason to want to be the best, you know?”

“Damn, Jungkook,” you say, “I knew I liked you!”

Tae snorts. “Kook, you might as well just say you want to fuck Y/N, you don’t gotta take the backroads, buddy. ‘No bad reason to want to be the best.’ God.”

Jungkook’s face turns bright scarlet, and he looks so horrified that you almost laugh. You’re glad you manage to hold it in though, you’re sure the poor boy would’ve died right on the spot and you weren’t kidding when you said you liked him.

Jimin and Tae are sitting laughing at Jungkook, teasing him about you when you manage to pull yourself from your thoughts.

“Go ahead and laugh it up,” you say, “but while you’re laughing remember Jungkook is my favorite out of all of you.”

As you speak you wrap your arms around the broad shoulders of the boy next to you. Jungkook tenses for a moment at your closeness, but you soon feel him relax under your touch. The other boys around you laugh even louder at your actions but quickly lose interest as something important happens within their game. It’s some sort of action cut scene, and even Namjoon is paying attention.

You glance over at Jungkook only to find he’s looking directly at you; your heart thumping a bit faster in your chest as you make eye contact with him.

“Is this okay?” You whisper, referring to your closeness.

He nods quickly, still looking a bit askance. As if he thought any second you might push him away and laugh at him.

You smile at him before shuffling around a bit, so your head is on his shoulder, your hands placed on your lap. Before too long you feel his hand come to rest on the bed behind you, so he’s basically holding you, but not quite. Cute.

As the night draws on, you can’t help but feel a bit overcome by your own fatigue. It’s been a long day, really. Just a few hours ago you were pouring your soul out to Namjoon over your soulmate… and now, here you are in the arms of some boy you hardly know, drifting off to sleep.

“I think it’s sort of slutty” the girls voice from earlier sounds off in your head, “I mean, if you have a soulmate you already know you’re leading someone on.”

Your head quickly shoots up off of Jungkook’s shoulder, and he jumps a bit, blinking wearily. It seems he had been dozing off too.

“Is everything okay?” He whispers, too low for anyone but you to hear.

“Uh, uh, yeah. It is it’s fine. It’s just, uh, it’s getting a bit late isn’t it?” You say back, a bit too loudly.

“Definitely!” Namjoon says from your other side as Jungkook opens his mouth, “It’s nearly one in the morning!”

You gasp, your classes don’t start particularly early tomorrow, but still… you try to make an effort to be in bed at a reasonable time, just so you feel a bit more put together than you actually are.

You glanced apologetically at Jungkook as you extricate yourself from him completely, standing from the bed and reaching your hands towards the ceiling in a stretch.

“I guess that means I should be going, huh?” You say, and Tae gives you a grunt and a wave, still not pausing his game. Ever the gentleman.

Jimin smiles brightly at you, as you wave at him.

“Do you two mind if I crash here tonight?” Jungkook asks.

“Oh you mean like what you do half the time anyway?” Jimin calls, “No, we don’t mind. The couch already has a dent shaped like you though, don’t you ever want to go home?”

“Nah, I’ve got a single, it’s honestly sort of creepy.” Jimin shrugs, and you call goodbye to Jungkook before pulling Namjoon by the hand so the two of you can walk home.

Namjoon insists on walking you to your dorm room before heading back to his and you laugh at his chivalry.

As you walk you catch him peeking over at you.

“What?” You say.

“Nothing really, you just look pretty.”

Your mouth opens a bit in surprise but before you could respond, he continues.

“You were getting sort of cozy with Jungkook in there.” He laughs, “Does somebody have a little crush?”

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a man in uniform.”

Namjoon runs his hand through his hair, “I mean hell, who doesn’t? And did you see the arms on that kid? Fuck.”

“Oh my god! I know right? It was crazy. I’m glad I’m not the only one who noticed!”

“He seemed to have a little thing for you, to be honest.”

“Eh. I think he was just nervous. I wouldn’t get too ahead of myself. Anyway, I’ve only just met him? I don’t quite think he’s my type? I don’t even know him well enough to say.”

“Fair enough.” Namjoon nods.

The two of you walked along in silence for a moment before you felt Namjoon’s hand come out to grasp your own. Neither of you mentioned it, and you quietly felt grateful for that. You didn’t quite want to examine the way your heart sped up when he touched you, or the way you noticed a secret sort of smile passing over his lips as you walked along.

Soon though, you arrived at your dorm, and his hand left yours. You felt an odd pang in your chest at that, but shoved it under the metaphorical rug as soon as it happened.

He turned to face you and for just a moment his eyes flickered down to your lips. Is he going to… but before the thought had even formed completely he was patting you on your head, and wishing you a goodnight.

He stayed put until you entered the building, and you waved at him through the glass doors that lined the entryway.

You watched him walk away, and your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Unknown Number:

Hey! Sorry if this is creepy, It’s Jungkook! I got your number from Tae. I just wanted to check that you’d gotten to your dorm safely! :)

You responded quickly, and saved his number into your phone before heading up the stairs to your dorm room. You tried hard not to think about Jungkook and Namjoon, but really it was a useless attempt.

Maybe you were just a slut, like that girl had said. I mean, sure she hadn’t specifically meant you but… also… she kind of did. And with how pleased you were with all the male attention you were garnering these days, you couldn’t help but think that maybe she was right.

A/N: Oh shit, there you go. Chapter 2. I know it’s a Yoongi fic but oo ooo who’s she gonna sleep??? with sweet Kookie? With our babe Namjoon?? Who do you want her to sleep with let me know pal. Will she ever meet Yoongi? (yes) Who knows???

Again I’d like to thank my beta @gimmesumsuga for being the cutest and also tolerating me as a human. I’m not saying you should follow her but that’s exactly what I’m asking her reactions are to die for???? Cool. Bye.

[artificialqueens]

Until the Flavor’s Gone (3/?) (Biadore) - Kitschy Pixel

AN – So this chapter took a bit longer than the first two because first I was busy and then I just couldn’t stop writing the thing. Hopefully it’s worth it. And hey, remember when I said I was playing fast and loose with continuity and queen relationships because this is an AU and I can? You’re about to see an example of that. I debated this and then thought “Imma do it”.

Anyway, welcome to chapter three aka that chapter that makes you think “Oh, this wasn’t that much of a slow burn after all” but spoiler alert: it is.

Warnings include: not-quite-smut with suggested nudity, age gap mentions, crude and very direct language that you’d come to expect from these two, and Danny being insecure as all get out. I think that’s everything?

Chapter Three

It took the rest of the week – the day before he and Jay were set to leave on a plane back to their normal lives, to be exact – for Danny to find himself back at that club for that drink he’d promised himself he’d try to grab. It took about an hour of vague and non-committal answers to Jay’s thousands of questions for him to shake the other for the night. Though the suggestive eyebrow waggle Jay shot him as he finally conceded to let Danny go his own direction was probably a bit uncalled for. Maybe. Most likely.

He arrived about an hour early and loitered around the bar, trying his best not to seem obvious or nervous and frankly failing. He kept staring at the stage and fidgeting with his hands and the only reason he even bought a drink to begin with was just to have something to hold. There weren’t very many people yet, most being just bar patrons who kept clustered to the source of their alcohol.

He sipped at his cocktail absent-mindedly as he rehearsed through what he would say. Try to be clever, but not too clever! Stay direct. Let him know that you really did appreciate the stage slot and the make-up advice. He’s obviously got his shit together. His act is great, his look is great, his ass looks great out of drag – no! No wait, don’t say that.

Danny sighed heavily into his drink and just stared into his glass as his long ago shelved desire to sleep with an older man started rapping insistently on his consciousness. It’s that fucking smile, he reasoned to himself, as if this attraction could be solely blamed on a perfect set of teeth and brown eyes that Danny could safely drown in, if you could safely drown in anything.

Shit, I forgot about his eyes…

He hiccupped at the sudden jump in his heartbeat before he downed the rest of his drink to try to burn away the growing lump in his throat. Instead? He almost choked. He sputtered and fought the urge to cough before he patted down his chest and let out a sigh. Okay, focus, he thought to himself, What are you doing?

Not that he was given a lot of time to really rethink his whole approach. From the corner of his eye he saw a very familiar hairstyle breeze past him, stopping only when someone approached for some brief small talk before heading back on a narrow path to backstage. He felt himself shift forward and before he knew it, he was caught into a gravitational pull and forced into the orbit of a much bigger undiscovered star. Danny followed obediently, sneaking backstage (which wasn’t hard) and hovering awkwardly in a dressing room full of drag queens preparing for the show.

Bianca was the only one already dressed, having arrived in full drag. Probably easier, Danny reasoned to himself absent-mindedly. He chewed on his lip and paused a moment when he realized now that he was here, he had no idea how to actually approach Bianca without seeming creepy.

“Hey there sweetheart, you look a little lost!”

Danny jumped when he recognized the young queen from the first night at his elbow and beaming at him. He managed a timid ‘hello’ before the queen hyperactively introduced herself.

“Oh don’t be shy! You’re from the other night, aren’t ‘cha? I remember you! I’m Billie Wicked–” she flinched slightly at the snide remark to change that name filtered from behind them before widening her smile and soldiering on, “–what are you doing back here? You’re not a queen, are you? You’d make a good one – oh wait!” Her eyes got wider as she started to shakily connect the dots, “That’s right! You were talking to Bianca!”

“Billie! Down girl, good lord, let him breathe!” Speaking of the devil herself, Bianca sidled up behind Billie and grasped her by the elbows. “Go finish getting ready, okay? I’ll take care of this.” She waited until Billie was mostly out of earshot before blowing out a sigh, “Sorry – she’s not the brightest but she makes up for it with sweetness, bless her sugary and over-accessorized heart. Why are you skulking around here, California?” Danny gently reminded her of his name and Bianca nodded, “Yes, right. Danny. Wasn’t there another with you?”

Danny tackled the easy question first, saying he came alone before he cleared his throat to buy enough time to collect himself, “I was just… I’m leaving New York tomorrow and I had time so I thought I’d come back just to thank you again for what you did…”

“That really wasn’t a problem, but you’re welcome. Thank you for not choking or being awful, otherwise it would have become one. Come on, let me show you back out…”

It must have been that smile again, or the warmth from those fingers on his back that made Danny stand a bit taller as Bianca started to steer him back to the main floor. It could have been the haze from the drink he’d downed earlier settling on his brain that numbed him to his nerves. Whatever it was, something was responsible for the next bit of word vomit Danny spewed and he’d already decided he couldn’t be held accountable.

“Look – “ he spun around to look at Bianca’s face, pushing aside how stunned he was that she managed to make such a clownish approach to her make-up look so appealing, “Seriously, thank you. I’d never been on a stage like that before and it was such a wonderful rush and I’m so thankful that you gave that to me and I just really want you to understand how appreciative I am for that.”

“Believe me, I’m beginning to…”

Danny cut her off before she got too far, leaning in and concentrating hard on keeping his voice steady at a low volume, “I’m super bad at being coy and playing hard to get so I’m just going to be straight up honest with you and hope to god you find that charming…” One deep breath in and spill the truth, “I’ve taken more showers today than I have this entire trip, my ass smells like vanilla or linen or what the fuck ever, and I’m nervous as fuck but I just want to fuck you… or have you fuck me… or just suck your dick… any of it.”

He immediately cringed at how desperate he sounded, coming to a verbal screeching halt and pushing himself away from Bianca as he frantically tried to back pedal, “But you turned down those guys last week and it’s so fucking obvious that you’d do the same to me and I’m realizing really fast that this was a really big fucking mistake…”

Bianca recovered from her initial shock from the very blunt offer before holding up her hands in an attempt to placate the downward spiral that was spinning before her, “Okay, hold up. Calm the fuck down…” a giggle crept into her words, but it didn’t sting Danny’s pride like he thought it should, “I’m honestly flattered. Just… Christ… calm down before you hyperventilate.”

There was another long sigh and two hands gripped Danny’s shoulders as Bianca tried to collect her own thoughts on the matter at hand. She squeezed a little and a few breathy bits of laughter escaped before she smoothed down the shoulders of Danny’s jacket. “I really am flattered,” she nodded down the hallway to the main floor. “Stay for the show, okay? There’s some really talented bitches going on stage tonight so I think it might be worth you coming out here. Maybe I’ll see you after.”

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Danny couldn’t seem to decide if that ‘maybe’ tacked on to Bianca’s parting words was a promise or merely a polite rejection to keep him from suffocating on his own mortification. It was that off-chance glimmer of something resembling hope that kept him from slinking out that door and back to his hotel room to lick his wounds in peace.

So he stayed for the show, keeping towards the back and the alcohol to the minimum. He was glad he did. It was a good show made better by Bianca’s humor and flair, even if it was brutal and scathing. He couldn’t tell if the judgemental bitch act was just that or if it held a grain of truth to it. Maybe it was both, but it managed to make him laugh none the less. He was glad he stayed, he reminded himself.

And when it was over, he was a bit unsure what to do with himself. Did he stay and hope he could talk to Bianca (or Roy, he supposed) again? Or did he just high tail it out of there to try to minimize whatever damage he’d done? He supposed the latter was the safer option, though he still took his time leaving. The sting of rejection brought on by his own stupid mouth lingered a little but it’d be okay, he reasoned. Tomorrow he’d leave and probably never show his face in this entire city again. No big deal.

He was outside trying – and failing – to hail a cab so he could get back to his hotel. He shoved his hands in his pockets with a hefty sigh and prepared himself to just up and walk the six miles back. He needed to try to come up with a less pathetic story to tell Jay when he got back anyway, may as well stall the inevitable.

A hand on his elbow jarred him out of his decision.

“We can share a cab if you’re willing to split the fare.”

Danny turned to see Bianca, still in drag and with a smile. He offered up a sheepish one in return.

“You’d do that?”

“We’d be headed to the same destination, right? Unless you’ve changed your mind…”

“No…”

“Then come on. Before I change mine.”

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The ride to Bianca’s apartment was quiet and Danny decided for once in his life to keep it that way. Meanwhile, his heart thundered in his chest and he tried to hide the obvious red in his cheeks by decisively staring very intently out the window.

They didn’t speak until they crossed that threshold and Danny’s legs were instantly investigated by two very curious balls of fluff.

“Hope you like dogs.”

Danny instantly beamed and began to coo at them, as he crouched down and let them sniff his fingers. “I love dogs. They’re adorable!” He missed the small smile shot in his direction as the two pups instantly approved of his presence. He heard the vague sound of Bianca setting down the clutch she carried and her keys before he was drawn further into the apartment.

“I’m not drunk enough to do this in drag,” the clatter of shoes being kicked off and another sigh, “You’re not in a hurry are you?”

“No. My flight’s not until late tomorrow. I’ve got all night if you do.”

“Convenient and… obnoxiously charming,” that last bit was said with a tone of exasperation that Danny had to fight not to smirk about. He curled his lips over his top teeth and forced his mouth closed before he looked up to see Bianca flick what he assumed was a bathroom light on and disappear before the sound of running water filtered from behind the door. He got up and ventured further, eight paws trotting after him as he took in his surroundings.

It was small, as one would expect a New York apartment would be, but it was organized – every bit of space utilized to its maximum potential. “Wow,” he whispered as he took a step towards the designated sewing area that was shoved in one corner. He busied himself with looking at the sketches and fabric swatches that were spread across the table, staying mindful not to touch out of fear he might upset some sort of delicate balance and throw off whatever meticulous system had been put into place.

He headed back to the hallway, suddenly aware of his thudding heartbeat again when he heard the water still. He swallowed as the door opened and he was faced with Roy, freshly showered, with a very small smile, a towel, and not much else.

“Last chance to back out and spare my feelings,” he quipped as Danny gaped and shook his head.

“I’m good,” Danny managed to breathe out before he leaned forward, cupped Roy’s face in his hands and kissed him.

There was that split second of clarity as something sparked with the initial contact of lips against lips. It was followed by another split second of What the fuck am I doing? before Danny’s inhibitions were thrown to the wayside and completely forgotten. He got lost in a fiery and flurried fierceness that fogged up his cognitive functions faster than any drink or drug could dream. Could you get intoxicated from a kiss of a near stranger? He assumed if that kiss tasted like spearmint mouthwash and a hint of – was that wine? – that it would be entirely possible. Whatever it was shot straight down, coiled tight and made him gasp.

With nothing but the faint glow of the blue-white light of a bathroom vanity to guide them, they travelled the short distance to Roy’s bedroom. They’d stumbled a bit at the door. Danny groaned when his back hit the wood, both sets of hands scrambling to simultaneously rid him of his clothes and turn the handle. He nearly tripped backwards when Roy managed to push it open, narrowly escaping his fall by Roy grabbing his forearm to keep him upright and using that momentum to steer him to the bed.

Danny vaguely recalled losing his jacket and shirt at some point in the struggle. It was entirely possible that it was his shirt that was the culprit of him nearly colliding with the floor. There was a soft curse when they hit the mattress. He didn’t know who made it or even what it was. He completely forgot exactly when he managed to kick off his jeans. Or if Roy’d just pulled them off. He favored the second option whenever he’d think back on it in the future.

The rest of it, though – he’d remember clear as crystal.

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It was daylight by the time Danny managed to fully open his eyes and he groaned a little as he pushed himself out of bed. His brain felt blurry from lack of sleep, his body was sore, and his skin felt grimy but a dopey smile still curled at the very edges of his lips as he started to collect his clothes. Last night (or early this morning, however you wanted to look at it) had been pretty fucking good.

He checked the time on his phone as it clattered from his pants pocket before he pulled them on and wandered out to the hallway to gather his shirt and jacket. He sneaked into the bathroom to pee and was able to get a good look at himself.

Essentially, he looked like he’d been thoroughly fucked. His hair was sticking up at awkward angles, there were dark circles under his eyes from the aforementioned minimal sleep, and he sported at least one hickey that he could see near his collarbone. The dopey smile turned into a mischievous smirk. He felt a little satisfied with himself.

And why shouldn’t he?

Danny just had – maybe not mindblowing sex – but definitely above the standard sex. Really good sex. His fingers ached a little from gripping the side of the bed kind of sex. So… great sex… with a guy he found to be kind of interesting. And sure, he was about to sneak out of that guy’s apartment and do the walk of shame to the nearest cab back to his hotel room and he was going to be on the literal opposite corner of the country by the end of tonight, but god damn, it was worth it. Right?

He turned on the sink and cupped his hands under the trickle of water before splashing his face and trying to get his hair to behave. He sucked in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly before throwing his shirt over shoulders, jacket still in hand before he went on to find exactly where he’d kicked off his shoes.

He ran into Roy instead.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Danny’s eyes flitted over Roy’s figure, his mind’s eye filling in what that black tank top and joggers now covered before he cleared his throat and replied, albeit a little raspy.

“Yeah… I… um… thanks for letting me stay, I was just going to… you know… go. Once I find my shoes…”

“They’re near the door,” Roy offered flatly before he followed Danny down the hall only to detour to the kitchen when he could. Danny sat down on the floor to pull on his sneakers before he stood back up and started to actually button his shirt. Or attempted to.

“Shit…”

It came out a bit louder than he wanted, Roy rounding the corner from his kitchen and shooting a look towards the entryway. “You o–?” he trailed a bit as he raised an eyebrow at Danny’s current dilemma. “Oh.” There was a low snicker that faded off into soundless laughter before he shook his head. “Shit. Damn. I suppose that’s my fault.” He gestured with the coffee cup in his hand to the several missing buttons that made the shirt in question gap in an odd manner. He set the cup aside and held up a finger to delay Danny’s incoming whine. “Hold up, don’t panic. I can fix that easy if you don’t have to be anywhere this instant.”

Danny could only process one thing at a time as he stared down at the missing buttons, “You’re such an asshole…” he managed to squeak out and Roy could only roll his eyes.

“Well aware, and yet I’m going to fix it if you can spare like… an hour, not even that but let’s say an hour just for the hell of it. Can you spare an hour?”

“Yeah…”

“Then quit pouting, shut up, and take off your shirt.” That strange, soothing giggle Danny had heard last night lifted the lilt of the command and helped soften it a little, making it easier for him to comply. He shrugged off his shirt and handed it over to Roy before the other man gestured to the kitchen, “I’m not the type to cook anyone breakfast but I can at least offer coffee if you want it.”

Danny accepted the offer and soon he was settled with a warm mug on Roy’s couch as he watched the other get out a sewing kit and begin to rifle through his stash of notions to find similar enough buttons to at least look passable. Danny brought his knees up to his chest as he watched Roy set to work, tilting his head as he searched for something – anything – to say. He settled on repeating himself.

“Thank you, again… for, you know. Letting me stay here.”

“Not a problem,” Roy’s voice was distant as he worked but he was obviously still listening as he threaded a needle and got to work replacing the – three, he discovered – buttons that had gone missing since last night. “Felt it would be a dick move to let you fend for yourself at four in the morning in a city you don’t live in… and I didn’t have to work at the shop today so I wouldn’t have to kick you out right away anyway.”

“The shop?”

“Costume shop,” Roy lifted his eyes for a second as he answered, another smirk at Danny’s perplexed expression. “Day job. No way I could survive in this city on a drag queen’s salary, let’s be honest here.”

“So wait…” Danny set his coffee aside and shifted forward. “You’re like… a professional when it comes to sewing shit?”

Roy’s laugh was almost shy before he cut it short and nodded, “Yeah,” Danny was beginning to really like that soft smile that did just enough to bring out those indents in his cheeks. Roy flicked his eyes up to Danny once again, pausing to snip the thread before moving on to the next button, his fingers manipulating the needle in a well-practiced, fluid motion. “You make it sound like that’s impressive…”

“It is!” Danny beamed, “Holy shit, so do you make all of your dresses then?”

“Most. What I don’t make, I’ve usually altered…”

“Fuck, man. I can’t sew for shit. I can barely hot glue shit together. What kind of stuff do you make at the costume shop?” He quickly clarified when he saw Roy’s eyebrow quirk, quip loaded and ready, “I know costumes, smart ass. But like… for what?”

Roy leaned back as he snipped the thread of the second button before rolling his shoulder and pausing to think, “Bit of everything. I’ve done anything from runway shows to ballet to theater…” He paused again at Danny’s enthusiastic ‘cool’ before he rolled his eyes, but the self-satisfied smirk escaped no one.

“Is that how you got into drag? Making costumes and stuff?”

“Sort of? Not really a remarkable story behind that. Something I kind of picked up and never could seem to put down again… now it’s just an extra source of income.”

“Damn. How long have you done it?”

Roy paused in thought and exhaled slowly, “Since I was twenty so… fifteen…ish… almost sixteen years?”

And there it was – a number placed on the age gap that Danny was aware of, maybe even craving a little. It made it supremely real as opposed to some sort of specter that floated in the back of Danny’s mind. And it was weird. Not the age gap itself, but how little he thought of it. Should he be bothered? Did it even matter? Sitting on this guy’s couch, sipping the coffee he’d offered, and watching him replace the buttons he’d torn off late last night (early this morning), Danny figured it really didn’t. He pressed his lips together and sucked in a breath, ready to blurt something out when he realized he’d let the silence run into awkward lengths.

Roy beat him to it.

“What about you?”

“Me what?”

Roy shrugged one shoulder and waved a little towards Danny in a vague gesture as he paused in his task, “How long have you done it?”

“What? Drag? Oh…” Danny slumped further into the corner of the couch and cleared his throat, “No, that’s… that’s mostly Jay’s thing…” That was technically true. It was very much Jay’s thing. “I let him paint my face sometimes for practice and we were trying to kill time so…” Now it was starting to meander into ‘fibbing’ territory. For a mental check list worth of reasons, he wasn’t compelled to tell Roy about the polish remover queen Adore Delano he had residing in his closet. “He wouldn’t shut up about how you helped him, though.” And there was the flat out lie.

The seasoned queen raised an eyebrow and looked at Danny with scepticism before he slowly drawled, “Let me see if I got this right…” He deliberately slowed his work on the final button, drawing it out for as long as he could. “Jay’s the baby queen who takes you to shows and you’re the supportive friend who just so happens to reap the benefits of Jay having a somewhat memorable drag mother?”

“You never did explain how you and Alyssa know each other…”

“And you’re avoiding the question.”

“You said my singing wasn’t that big of a deal…”

“No. Getting you on that stage wasn’t that big of a deal to me. You singing in front of that crowd was very much a big deal to you, you made that plainly obvious,” Roy clarified, gesturing between the two of them and obviously alluding to the events of the night before (or very early morning). He plucked the last stray thread from Danny’s shirt and tossed it over to him. “Try that. They should be even.”

“You’re a fucking miracle worker.”

“Far from,” He leaned back in his seat and watched Danny carefully as the other pulled his shirt onto his shoulders and started to button it from the bottom upwards. “Are you going to answer my question or not?”

Danny stood and tugged the edges of his shirt to check that the buttons were in fact even, “I don’t see why it matters.”

“Just humor me.”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before he shrugged, “Jay didn’t have any drag with him and I didn’t need drag to get up there…”

“So you do have drag…”

“I… no?” Danny flinched at the crack in his voice that made that into a question.

“Convincing,” Roy leaned forward and looked Danny up and down in a way that made him fidget. He was calculating something in his head – and it was making Danny feel rather uneasy. Not so much like he was prey – that would turn him on a little bit, if he was to be completely honest – more like he was a puzzle. For some reason, that was worse. “How’d you and Jay meet?”

Shit. Danny squared his shoulders and drew himself up to his full height before he picked his coffee mug back up to take one last swig and looked down at Roy from over his nose. “None of your fucking business.”

There was a hint of a smirk before Roy stood with his hands held up in surrender. “Fine. I’ll drop the subject – but for the record? I think ‘Adore’ fits you better than ‘Violet’.”

“I…” Danny stood stock still as all the air left his body like he’d been kicked in the ribs. His mouth gaped as he floundered for some kind of comeback but could only stammer out a very high pitched “…how?”

That smirk turned triumphant as Roy walked over to take the empty coffee mug from Danny’s slacking grip. “You know the modern world is fantastic? If person A wants to contact person B… there’s countless of ways to do it just from the palm of your hand.” He held up his phone and Danny groaned in response, sinking back down to the couch.

“You talked to Alyssa…”

“I sent him a text after you two stopped by the first time to make sure you were the real deal. He told me your drag names – couldn’t remember which one you were using so he gave me both,” Roy spoke over the running water as he rinsed out the mug and started to clean the few dishes that had piled up the last couple of days. “So you wanna try this conversation again?”

“Not really…” Danny shrugged on his jacket that he’d abandoned in the entryway, his face bright red from embarrassment – nope – more like that pesky mortification rearing its ugly head again. “It was nice meeting you,” he gritted out before checking his pockets to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything and then heading out the door.

–––––––––––––––––––––

He got to the top of the stairs before Roy caught up with him. He didn’t get a chance to speak before Danny cut him off. “Anyone tell you that you’re a fucking asshole?”

“All the fucking time, but shit… I fixed your shirt after ripping it off your body last night and get elevated to Annie Sullivan levels of sainthood but catching you in a lie completely strips me back to asshole territory? That makes sense.”

“God!” Danny snarled a little, “I can’t believe I fucking had sex with you!”

“Yet it’s the reality of the situation. Now can you stop being angry with me for maybe… thirty seconds and explain to me why you’re pissed?”

“I’m not pissed!” Danny made a mental note to reel in the volume back down to a reasonable indoor voice, “I’m just… fucking embarrassed.”

“Of what, exactly?”

“You wouldn’t understand…”

“Try me, bitch.”

They stood on the landing in silence as Danny wrapped his arms around himself and held on tight as he backed himself up into a corner quite literally. He willed himself to calm down and breathe before sighing through his nose and looking down at his shoes. Roy remained the pillar of calm in front of him, which only proved to make the shame burn a bit faster. He unfolded his arms and rubbed his temples before he closed his eyes tightly and gestured vaguely in Roy’s direction.

“Fucking… look at you, man,” he opened his eyes but kept his focus on the other’s shoes. “You’ve got it all figured out. The look, the act, you make your own shit, your make-up’s exactly what it needs to be… while I’ve got a couple of shake-and-go wigs, dresses I bought at the mall, and just figured out how to glue my eyelashes on two months ago. Queens at home don’t take me seriously for shit… and… I dunno. I just didn’t feel like getting read by the guy I just hooked up with.”

“Okay… back up,” Danny lifted his eyes when he saw Roy beckon with his fingers, “Look at me. Let’s start this over again and I think maybe we can get on the same page here… when… exactly… did you start doing drag?”

Danny twisted his mouth as he tried to calculate it in his head, “I dunno… kinda blurs together… I guess I started doing the full drag thing in clubs and shit maybe… four or five months ago?”

“Okay… five months? Meet fifteen fucking years. Of course you don’t have shit figured out.”

“Not making me feel any better…”

“Then let me try again,” Roy took Danny by the forearms and tried to catch his eyes that kept flicking down to the floor. “Look at me, seriously. You’ve got a lot of talent and a lot of guts and that’s a better start than most. Wigs and clothes and make-up? That all gets better in time – but don’t let your confidence get shot down just because you’re not there yet, because you will get there. Got it?”

It was a very soft and comforting sentiment coming from the bitch he’d watched read a set of queens to filth on stage not even twelve hours ago. Danny wasn’t exactly sure how to reply as he, again, felt that age gap in just the way Roy saw the world. He wanted a casual fuck with an older guy, he reminded himself, that warmed feeling at the bottom of his heart didn’t settle well for the circumstances. So he did what he always did when he wasn’t ready to think about something – he made it into a joke.

“Ever consider writing inspirational greeting cards? Because that was pretty good…”

“You know what? Fuck you,” Roy broke into a cackle before he reached up and pushed Danny’s hair from his face. “Are we good, then?”

“Yeah, we’re good… but why did it matter?”

“What matter?”

“Me leaving mad at you?”

Roy pressed the tip of his tongue on the inside of his bottom lip before he released it with a light ‘click’ and pushed himself away. The genuine sincerity was wiped clean in an instant and that impish spark that seared through anything in its path on stage returned with a vengeance. “Because I learned awhile back to never let a bitch leave angry unless you want to battle malicious rumors about your dick size. I have a reputation to uphold,” he turned on his heel and waved Danny to follow him, “Come on, I’ll get you a cab.”

“You know, your dick isn’t that impressive,” Danny began as they both trotted down the rest of the stairs.

“Don’t fucking start with more lies, cunt.”