#i wanna pause time so i can be 19 forever

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 ao3

Eddie helps Steve upstairs, lets him go in the bathroom first. By the time Eddie has gone in there himself, has finished brushing his teeth… he overhears Steve on the phone in his bedroom.

Eddie pauses. He hadn’t heard the phone ringing, but he might not have been able to catch it under the sound of running water. He will never know who called first.

Then he wonders why that even matters so much—or more, what kind of difference it would make. Whether it makes a difference at all.

He doesn’t know whether to leave Steve to it, but his gut tells him to follow the sound of Steve’s voice.

Steve is sat on the bed, the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder. His hands are in his lap; he’s pinching at the skin just before his thumb again. Pinching hard.

“No, no, I’m good. Yeah, the… no, the news must’ve exaggerated, mom. Well, a window broke here, but… yeah, lucky escape, right?”

He lies so easily, lies with a smile… even while he’s crying.

Eddie thinks that if he closed his eyes and just listened, he might never have known. Steve’s tears are perfectly silent, his voice steady. 

“Yeah, I’ll let you go. Hey, mom?” And Steve’s breathing hitches just once. Eddie wonders if he’s the only one who can really hear it. “Thanks for the tapes.” He laughs, voice wavering for only a second. “Just came into my head, that was all. Thought I’d better say.” He swallows. “Love you, too.”

It’s only once he’s hung up that Steve allows himself to let go, and even then he’s quiet—passing a hand roughly over his eyes, sniffling very occasionally. Then he looks over at Eddie, left frozen in the doorway.

“They don’t know, okay? I don’t want you thinking…” Steve sighs. “I changed my emergency contacts ages ago. Hopper, Joyce, Robin—hell, I even put Claudia down ‘cause Dustin’s a nosey little shit and I know he’d pick up. It’s… easier this way,” he says.

And Eddie suspects that while Steve’s ostensibly talking about The Upside Down stuff, he also means something more.

Eddie thinks of Wayne, of how easy he makes everything—how all he said was Try me in the hotel room, right before his understanding of the world was changed forever. How Eddie has never, not once, had to doubt his love.

Steve wipes perfunctorily at his eyes then reaches for his crutches.

“Come downstairs with me? I wanna show you something.”

-

Steve directs Eddie to a video tucked behind the musicals collection. Eddie puts it in to play before taking a look at the cover.

Simon and Garfunkel - The Concert in Central Park.

“You educating me on more music, Steve?”

But instead of taking the opportunity to make a joke, Steve hesitates. “Yeah… if you like.”

Another pause, like he’s readying himself, lining up to the edge of a diving board.

Steve breathes in and out. Nods at the screen. “September 19th, ‘81. I was there. And I, um…” His hand briefly rubs over his sternum, like he’s not even aware that he’s doing it, then taps more deliberately on his temple. “I ran there, too.”

Eddie’s breath catches at the implication.

“Worked for a bit, too. But it was—everything was hard to, like, hold onto. Like water slipping through your fingers kinda thing.”

Eddie nods. Clears his throat. “You don’t have to… to say, but. Why were you in New York? Late vacation?”

Steve winces, clearly tries to cover it up.

But Eddie sees. He sighs and closes his eyes in mortification. “I’m an ass.”

“No, you’re—” Steve shakes his head, laughs a bit. “No, you’re not. How were you s’posed to…? No, not a vacation. My Grandpa, on my mom’s side—he lived in New York. And, um… my Grandma, she died a couple of months before, so my mom was already… struggling. And then, when he died, she… there was a lot left for to do, I think. I don’t remember what—just that she was left trying to clean his big house, and my dad was being an asshole, and her brother—my uncle—he might as well have not been there. So she booked a hotel room for me, just so I wasn’t caught up in the screaming match and stuff, y’know? And that day, I just kinda… wandered.”

Eddie can picture it: Steve, a little lost, perhaps, while trying to appear anything but. A boy trying to be a man.

“And I saw whole groups of people heading to the park, so I asked about it. The concert was free, so…” Steve looks off to the side, sighing. “And I just thought… they were my mom’s favourite, y’know?” His voice goes just slightly higher in pitch, strained with emotion, like he’s that kid all over again, unable to solve his mother’s problems. “Her favourite, and she couldn’t even go see them ‘cause it… it was just so shitty. Shitty situation all round. Figured I might as well see them for her. Like that could make things better. Sounds stupid out loud, but…”

“No,” Eddie says, “it doesn’t.”

Steve’s mouth ticks upwards in brief acknowledgment. “It rained while we were waiting, off and on. But, man, I got a great view. There were these two girls—God, they seemed so much older to me at the time, but they were probably only mid-twenties or something. Anyway. They saw I was alone, got kinda concerned I hadn’t brought a jacket, so they gave me one, let me sit on their picnic rug.” This time, his smile has more strength behind it. “Guess they kinda babysat me, huh?”

Eddie smiles back. “Makes a change.”

I’m glad they were there. I’m glad that you weren’t alone.

Steve laughs to himself when America plays, as the lyric, “She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy,” is sung.

He answers just ahead of the words that follow, delivering them with a grin as if he’s having a conversation with someone: “I said, ‘Be careful, his bow-tie is really a camera.’” He snorts at Eddie’s questioning look, says, “At Starcourt, Dustin had me looking for Russian spies through a pair of binoculars, it was fucking ridiculous… I loved it. Anyway, he didn’t get the bow-tie reference, just went on about how ‘this isn’t James Bond, Steve, this is serious.’ What a butthead.”

And Steve laughs even more as a cover of The Everly Brothers begins: Wake Up Little Susie.

“Oh, dude, I gave Dustin so much shit with this song, you don’t even know. Told him he brought it on himself, like, don’t tell me your girlfriend from Camp Know Nothing’s name, that’s just giving me ammo.”

But as Steve imitates Dustin whining, all Eddie can think is that he’s seeing something far more than just Steve delighting in riling Dustin up. That what he’s really seeing is Steve showing how deeply he cares… How he does it so easily, so inconspicuously, as if it’s just a little thing, just I heard a song and thought of you—like he can’t help it, that’s just how he loves: his mind making connections that spread out everywhere, as large and generous as his heart.

They chat leisurely for most of the setlist, Eddie gasping when someone storms the stage during The Late Great Johnny Ace.

“Shit, I forgot that happened. And you were there, man!”

They both keep quiet all the way through Bridge over Troubled Water. Eddie’s heard the song before, but now it suddenly seems like he’s hearing it for the very first time, his throat tight. Like it’s only now that he’s truly understood it.

From the silence, maybe Steve is thinking something similar. Maybe.

The room lightens with 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover.

“This one always makes me think of Robin,” Steve says, smiling as the brass kicks in, miming like she does: a little wiggle of the fingers to simulate pressing down on a trumpet’s valves.

“Thought you’re meant to be helping her find a lover, not lose one.”

Steve chuckles.

“No, I meant… like at work, if we’re arguing over who takes out the trash or whatever, I’ll call her Jack, y’know, like ‘slip out the back, Jack’? Or ‘make a new plan, Stan.’ Stuff like that.”

That’s fucking adorable, what the fuck.

Out loud, Eddie says, “Cute,” just so Steve makes that abashed sort of half-smile.

In the middle of The Boxer, Eddie briefly plays his guitar. He gets the melody down by ear—it’s not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, his fingers clumsily moving through the chords.

But Steve watches like he can’t notice any of the obvious stumbles made, gives a soft, awed, “Wow,” when Eddie is done. Then he adds, almost a whisper, “Was it… did you learn it like that back when��?”

Eddie pauses. Remembers hearing that faint whisper of My Little Town as his head nodded in spite of his fierce efforts to stay awake. Seeing the hint of a frown flicker across Steve’s face. The slimmest hope.

Learning Steve’s song had been unlike any other. All he had to go on, lying on the bed of that hotel room in the early hours of the morning, was that little snippet he had heard—just that, and perhaps faint memories he had no concrete hold of, ones that felt dreamlike: a snatch of Wayne humming along to it on the radio, when he couldn’t have been more than ten or so.

Eddie sang the words that he could, skipped the ones he didn’t know—prayed that it was enough; it had to be enough.

It had felt like time didn’t exist, just him and the song, slowly getting stitched together—even now, he can feel it under his fingertips, as if the notes are like splinters forever embedded in his skin. But not painful, never that, just an inevitable part of him.

Eddie looks into Steve’s eyes.

“No,” he answers softly. “It was… easier, almost. Had to be.” He smiles, a little bittersweet, as Steve’s brows knit together in thought. “Couldn’t afford any mistakes, Steve.”

“Oh,” Steve says. “Sorry.”

Eddie laughs, light but disbelieving. “What the fuck for?”

Steve glances between Eddie and the guitar. “‘Cause you love playing, Eddie. And I… I don’t know, I didn’t want you to have… like, pressure? And, um… bad memories tied to it, I guess.”

Eddie shakes his head and sets the guitar aside. “Okay. You better listen close, Steve.”

Steve huffs through a smile. “Listening.”

“It’s… all of that, Steve, s’not tied to a bad memory, man, not even close. It brought you back, that’s… words can’t even fucking…” Eddie shakes his head again. “And fine, even if it had, even if I really thought after this, I can never play again, guess what? It would’ve been worth it. Fuck, I would’ve chosen it a thousand times and never regretted it. Got it?”

Steve stares at him. He blinks, and for a moment it looks like he might cry, but then he just nods, chin wobbling ever so slightly.

“Got it,” he says hoarsely.

They’ve talked right through the encore. Eddie distantly hears Paul Simon yell at the crowd, “Let's have our own fireworks!”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says, and Eddie can see a memory spark in his eyes.

You’re so beautiful, Steve Harrington.

“I remember this. They were gonna use, uh, pyrotechnics but they weren’t allowed, so—look, see how everyone’s getting lighters out? I didn’t have one, but one of the girls gave me hers. And I remember…” Steve’s voice softens. “It was dark, and when I got the flame going, I just—I saw it out the corner of my eye. The girls, they were holding hands on the rug. And like, I knew it… it wasn’t for me to… y’know, and I didn’t say anything obviously. I didn’t really know what to… what I was feeling, right?” He chuckles self-deprecatingly. “Fucking rare for me to know anything about what I was thinking, back then. I was kind of an idiot. More than.”

Eddie says, gently, “I dunno, Steve. If you ask me, being a kid isn’t the same thing as being an idiot.”

Steve hums, tilts his hand back and forth as if to say debatable. “God, I talk a lot. Didn’t plan on… guess I just.” He shrugs. “Guess I just wanna tell you things.”

“Fine by me,” Eddie says. “I like listening.”

I always like listening to you. Tell me everything, if you want. I’ll be here.

There’s another shot of the crowd on screen, and Eddie crawls forward as he asks, “Where were you?”

“It’s too dark to see, man.”

“Try me.”

Steve rolls his eyes, chuckling. “You think I haven’t tried to find myself already? Ugh, fine, fine. We were kinda near the front, so…” He thinks, clicking his tongue, then points to just a few rows back from the stage, near the far-left of the screen. “Thereabouts.”

Eddie follows Steve’s direction, presses a fingertip there. Feels the warm static of the screen. And though he can’t really see anything, doesn’t even know if Steve is right with his guess or not, it’s like he can sense it anyway; he doesn’t need proof. Like he’s reaching back in time to a boy from five years ago, and he thinks…

Hey, Steve Harrington. The world’s gonna get… fucking crazy for you soon, but it’ll be fine in the end, trust me. You’re one of the bravest people I know. You’re gonna be okay.

During the final encore, Steve inhales like he’s about to say something, but he yawns instead—covers his mouth with the back of his hand a beat too late, like it’s caught him by surprise.

“Mm, sorry. Used to put this on when I couldn’t sleep. Guess it still works.”

Eddie looks over at him, at how his eyes are drowsy, like a child lulled by the gentle rocking of a car journey. Feels his heart give a little twist at the sight.

He ejects the tape, turns off the T.V. When he turns back, he sees that Steve has made room for him on the couch without saying anything about it.

Eddie slips over the arm of the couch, nestles in so smoothly that the couch barely sags at all, so Steve’s leg won’t be bumped; it comes so naturally now, the two of them slotting together like the easiest jigsaw puzzle in the world.

There’s a short silence, and then Eddie speaks in an undertone, just in case Steve has already fallen asleep.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Your, uh… your song. It didn’t play at that concert.”

He glances over, catches Steve’s fleeting grin, as if he’s thinking well spotted.

“Good, um, what is it Henderson says, in D&D? Good perception thingy.”

Eddie laughs in surprise. “Sure, something like that.”

Steve smiles at him. The silence stretches out, but it’s not uncomfortable, more honeyed. Slow.

And Eddie feels a warmth atop his hand: Steve’s fingers overlapping with his. For a moment, he thinks it’s just an accidental brush, but then Steve doesn’t move away.

And neither does he.

Steve sighs. Squeezes Eddie’s hand, like he’s trying to reassure him of something, but for the life of him Eddie can’t work out what it is—just knows that Steve looks almost sad, and he wishes he wouldn’t. It’s breaking his heart.

“I just… I need some more time.” There’s something in Steve’s eyes that’s so vulnerable, suddenly. “Is that… is that okay?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Eddie says immediately, because nothing would stop him from saying so, even as his mind whirs in thought. “Don’t need to ask, Steve. Yes.”

Steve smiles, squeezes his hand again. Eddie can hear what he means this time: Thank you.

“Think I’m gonna fall asleep on you now,” Steve says with another long yawn.

“That’s fine. I’m kinda used to it,” Eddie says, letting out a huff of amusement when Steve mock glares at him through heavy eyes, fighting to keep them open.

“Shut up. Can’t help it.”

“Oh, so I am boring?”

“No. Told you b’fore. No.”

Eddie slowly reaches out—smiles when Steve’s eyes close before his hand even touches his forehead.

“What, then?” he asks quietly.

Steve hums. Sighs again. “You want the… all cards on the table kinda answer?”

Eddie breathes in. Holds it. Breathes out as silently as he can. Feels Steve’s hand still on his, fingers trailing over his knuckles, slowing as sleep approaches.

“Only if—if that’s what you want, too, then… yeah?”

Steve smiles. “Hmm, ‘kay. Here it comes.” His breathing deepens, and for a moment Eddie thinks that he’s already drifted off, but then Steve says, “I really… really like you, Eddie. You’re… safe.”

Eddie’s nose stings. Shit, he might be on the verge of crying. He bites his lip to keep himself from making a sound.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

And the thing is, he knows he’s said it before. But it feels different now—feels louder, somehow, even though he’s only whispered it. Because Steve isn’t asleep, not yet. Eddie knows that he’s heard.

Steve’s finger taps softly on the back of Eddie’s hand, spaced out slowly. Three times. Like heartbeats.

“Mm. R’lax, Eddie. Don’t need to… stop yourself.”

“…Stop?” Eddie asks, voice small.

“Been called worse things, y’know?” A yawn, almost silent. Slow and sweet. “I don’t mind it.”

A minute, maybe more. And then Steve falls asleep just like that, looking so…

So peaceful.

“You’re… safe.”

Eddie’s eyelashes are wet.

Here it comes, he thinks. It’s like the tide coming in.

Here it comes.

“I love you,” Eddie murmurs.

He says it even though he knows Steve is sleeping, says it right through the inevitable aching of his heart.

[vividvivvy]

HER-Chase Atlantic

“Satoru! Come onnnn! You walk so incredibly slow!” The tall white haired man was being drug around multiple different stores by a young girl, maybe 19, that he had met just earlier that day at a small coffee shop. 

“You know you sure do zone out quite a bit Satoru.” She stopped rushing for a minute and looked back at Gojo. “You're such an airhead! It’s so cute!” Her pause was short lived though as she went back to pulling him into another over priced designer store. 

"Woah, shes high fashioned. Took me to the back room in Chanel so we could smash and, everything is Louis V and Louis V her casket”

Gojo was sitting across from her at a table, watching her eat her overpriced mall food. He had food of his own of course, but he hadn’t touched it since they had sat down. To caught up with the sweet thing across from him. 

“Oh Satoruuuu~ If you keep staring a hole through my head your foods gonna get all cold and grosssss~” she spoke playfully as she pointed her fork at him and laughed. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything quite as amazing as the way she looks when she laughs. 

“Yeah yeah, I’m going” He chucked along with her, finally picking up his fork to eat. “About time! I was starting to think you’d gone and fallen in love with me!” She laughed again, and Gojo gave a light snort along with her. 

“Well that would be no good would it?”

“But boy don’t go falling in love. You can’t stay with me. All you’ll ever have is one day with me.”

He watched her run around in the parking lot, it was sprinkling, the light rain slowly soaking her clothes but she didn’t have a care in the world, giggling and spinning in careless circles. 

“Satoru! Come dance with me!” 

His heart and brain stopped for a minute. Dance with her? He doesn’t know if he can handle that one. 

“I don’t know about that one? Dancing in a busy parking lot? Doesn’t sound like the safest bet” He smiled at her as she pouted and whined about how he was boring and that it was perfectly safe.

It wasn’t safe for his fast beating heart though.

“I’m getting feelings that I didn’t before. And all I wanna do is just stay with her. But I know all I have is one say with her”

“Oh wow, the time has really gotten ahead of us hasn’t It?” She nodded to the lit up radio of his expensive black car. His eyes followed down to the clock. “Already almost five o'clock. Damn” Gojo’s voice was followed by a sigh. 

“you ok big guy?” her voice came from the passenger seat, concern laced her tone. 

“All good princess”

"With no perception of time, its almost quarter-to-five”

“So, wanna hang out again sometime? I had a really good time with you today, felt like we spent ages together” He spoke hesitantly as they drove down the empty late night roads, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on her thigh.

Her voice replied just as hesitantly “Ummm…” she paused for a minute, before a sigh escaped her “I don’t think I really can if I’m being totally honest..” 

“Oh.” both of his hands were back on the wheel

“I could live forever in a day with her. I don’t wanna live it if it ain’t with her. I could go up to outer space with her. All I need is one more day with her”

The car was stopped outside of a large, expensive looking, modern style house. Her house.

“Listen Y/n I just, I did have a lot of fun today… I know you don’t wanna see me again but I honestly think…” 

She was staring at him, her eyes told him she knew what was coming and she didn’t want to hear it. 

“Goodnight princess”

“Night Satoru”

“Ooh, she’s always been running from love. ‘Cause daddy didn’t give her enough”

That night Gojo sent a text he never saw himself sending, especially not after just one day with a girl who was just out to spend his money.

“I think I fell in love with you today” 

Read 4:13 am

“All I need is one more day with her”

[chiimeramanticore]

Part of the Band - Chapter 19 - The Beast

Chapter summary: Dook and Beach Bear visit the family. Dook tries a new food. Beach Bear confronts his past. A/N:

this chapter's title has a double meaning- it's a metaphor for beach bear's family, and also a metaphor for how fucking hard it was to get this chapter out (and also a metaphor for how LONG IT IS??? 5K WORDS???????) i haven't updated in a while, so i missed the actual anniversary, but potb has officially been ongoing for a year! what a ride it's been lol. i've definitely changed and improved as a writer since i started, and i'm very happy to not only have a work that you can really see me grow through, but also to have one that has had such a nice response to it! i wouldn't have written nearly as much of this fic as i have if i didn't have people reading and commenting on it. if you've enjoyed any part of this fic (and god I hope you do if you've made it to chapter 19) thank you, from the bottom of my heart! this has been my favorite thing to make for the RAE fandom (but don't tell the video essay fans that lmao) OK ACTUAL TRIGGER WARNING TIME FOR THE CHAPTER this whole chapter is about beach bear's transphobic ass family! i mentioned it in the last chapter but they are going to consistently deadname and misgender him, and also just generally be kinda shitty parents and people. part of the reason this chapter is so long is bc i wanted to condense it all into one big thing so you could just skip the one chapter! this chapter isn't the end of this arc, but probably the end of all the uncomfortable shit lol. we also touch on dook's drinking issues a little in this one, so if any of this makes you uncomfortable, feel free to skip! you won't miss anything vital this time, i promise uhhhh i think thats everything? thanks! enjoy the chapter!

Chapter word count: 5,051 <- Chapter 18 - Chapter 20 -> Read it on AO3!

"Hey, Beach Bear," Dook says, staring out the car window.

"What's up?" Beach Bear replies.

"You said the other day you, like, uh... You took medicine, to become a dude, right?" Dook asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Beach Bear says. "I still take it. You've never noticed?"

Dook shakes his head. "What happens if you stop?"

"You go back," Beach Bear says. "In some regards, at least."

"Hmm." Dook slouches in his seat a bit. "So you gotta take it forever?"

"Long as I wanna stay looking like a dude, yeah," Beach Bear chuckles. "I dunno if too much would change if I stopped now, though. There's a lotta permanent stuff, too. I got a whole surgery and everything."

"Surgery?"

"Yeah, to–" he gestures vaguely at his chest, not taking his eyes off the road. "Y'know, get rid of the extra weight."

"I don't get it," Dook says.

"Agh, nevermind."

Dook stares at Beach Bear's chest. "...Hey, do you have to get your name changed, like in a court n' all?" He asks.

"Dook, I'm tryin' to drive."

Dook stares harder at his chest. He doesn't see the issue. It just looks like a guy's chest.

Oh, wait.

"What'd they do with your extra stuff after you got them removed?" He asks.

"Dook, I–" Beach Bear starts, then pauses. "I don't know, actually."

They sit quietly for a minute, both pondering the possible outcomes. Dook doesn't dedicate too much energy toward it, eventually spacing out once again on the long road ahead of them. They've been driving through the same monotonous scenery for hours now. Tall grassland... trees... a house every mile or so... It's farmland, but god if it isn't boring. There's not even any radio signal out here.

"...Beach Bear?" He pipes up.

"Yeah?"

"What're your parents like?"

"Uh..." Beach Bear trails off, thinking. "I dunno how to put it. They're... they're real pleasant, y'know? Outwardly, at least. They put on a real good face."

"How are they with you?" Dook asks.

"They're... I dunno. They're not bad. They're fine parents. They're just... They've got opinions, y'know? Very strong ones. And no amount of talking to them could ever convince them to rethink any of those opinions. They think they know everything." A hint of spite seeps into his voice at the last sentence.

"Mmh. I think I know the feelin'," Dook says. "They think they know everythin' about you, better than yourself, right?"

"Yeah," Beach Bear says. "It's– It's frustrating." He's holding his tongue, for some reason. "It's rough."

"Sounds rough." Dook says.

"And they live in this big McMansion, too," Beach Bear continues. "They act like they've got it made. They act like they're right about everything. They act like they know better than you, and don't you dare try to have a different opinion, 'cause–" He catches himself. "...'Cause... Whatever."

If Beach Bear's already getting worked up at the thought of his parents, he can't imagine what it's going to be like when they're actually there. "You gonna be okay?" Dook asks.

"Yeah," Beach Bear says, sighing. "I'll be fine. It's just a weekend."

After some seemingly endless length of time driving past the fields and farms, they finally arrive at Beach Bear's parents' house. He wasn't lying when he said they lived in a McMansion. The house is vast, with a white brick front and pale red roofing. The shapes of the roofing could be considered abstract art in itself– square, pyramid, conical, square, triangle... It almost looks like the house is trying to grow smaller houses out of it. Dook stares in awe as they get out of the car, Beach Bear's parents awaiting them on the porch.

"Beatrice!" His mother calls, rushing to embrace him. She's slender, with sandy, almost brown fur. Dook almost wouldn't guess she was a polar bear. She's done her face up almost excessively with makeup, and she hikes up her pink dress a bit to reach Beach Bear. She's still a bit shorter than him, though, and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him.

Beach Bear chuckles. "Hi, Mom," he says, hugging her back. "How've you been?" Dook watches her fuss over him, and Beach Bear taking it completely fine. It's like everything he said about not liking them before never happened.

"You're still driving this wreck, kid?" His father says, also moving from his position on the porch to greet them.

"It's the only car I've got, Dad," Beach Bear says. "We're still fixing it from the wreck."

"That's what I mean," he says. "Why keep it? Better to get something new by this point, anyway."

"Ah, that's... I guess it just didn't occur to me," Beach Bear says. Dook knows that's a lie. Why not explain his reasoning?

"And you," his mother says, turning to Dook. "You must be Dook, then?"

"Y- Yeah," Dook says. He holds out a hand. "Dook Larue. Nice to meet ya." Beach Bear's father grips it first, way too tightly.

"Good to meet you too," he says. "Name's Beau."

His mother shakes Dook's hand next. "And I'm Betty," she adds. "We're very happy to have you here, Dook."

Beau is a towering man– taller than both Betty and Beach Bear, and much taller than Dook. Here he was thinking Beach Bear was tall... Beau has gray fur, a strong face, and an equally strong build. Even for someone starting to get up there in age, he's shockingly strong-looking. Dook feels like less of a man, stood next to him. He pats Dook's back– or at least, Dook assumes that's what he meant to do. It's really more of a slap, and it makes Dook near jump out of his skin.

"Well, no point in keeping us all out here," he says. "Let's get you two unpacked."

The group takes their bags from the car and heads inside. The house somehow seems even bigger on the inside– tile flooring, two staircases on either side of the living room, and a fireplace below the TV, propped up onto the wall. Dook continues to feel smaller.

From the top of the left staircase, a ferret pops her head around the corner, waving down toward them.

"Mr. Baxter! The bedroom is finished being cleaned!" She calls.

"Thank you, Margaret," Beau calls back up to her. "Could you take their bags?" Margaret is already on her way down the stairs before he even asks. She moves quickly and smoothly, like she's refined housekeeping down to a formula. She takes their bags, acknowledging the two of them with a nod, before leaving just as quickly as she came.

"You have a maid?" Dook says.

Betty laughs. "Please, don't be ridiculous! Margaret is a housekeeper, not a maid. A maid would live here."

Dook doesn't see much difference between the two. He glances toward Beach Bear for guidance, who doesn't look back.

"Dinner is still cooking," Beau says. "In the meantime, why don't we sit and chat?" He moves toward the couch. Beach Bear and Dook follow, and Betty wanders off upstairs. Beach Bear sits next to his father, and Dook chooses to sit in the chair across from the couch.

"So, Dook," Beau starts. "Tell me about yourself."

"Well, uh–" He wasn't really expecting this. "I, ah. I'm Dook, I'm a drummer, I'm from New Orleans–"

"Lousiana?" Beau asks.

"Y- yeah."

"It's a beautiful state," he says. "Do you speak any French?"

"Ah– No," Dook says. "I know some Spanish, though."

"What led to that?" Beau asks.

"Well, I had to choose which language I wanted to take in school, and I couldn't pronounce the French letters," Dook says candidly. Beau laughs.

"Dad considers himself something of a polyglot," Beach Bear explains. "He gets real excited about it."

"Quite excited," Beau says. Dook isn't sure if he's emphasizing the point, or correcting Beach Bear on his grammar. "Still, Dook, me alegro de conocer a otro hablante de español. ¿No es así?"

"Uhh." Dook doesn't speak this much Spanish. "S- Sí. Muy bien," he says.

"Oh, Beatrice!" Betty calls, quickly going down the stairs toward them. In her arms, three books. "I was in your bedroom, just double-checking Margaret's work– not that I don't think she did a good job, of course, I just like to make sure, since you can never be too careful with these things, y'know– it's so important in situations like these when you've got someone important over and–"

"Damn it, Betty, spit it out," Beau says.

"You'll never guess what I found!" Betty finishes, dropping down the books onto the coffee table between the four of them. They're photo albums.

"Oh, god," Beach Bear says. "Mom, no."

"Why not?" Betty says. "If you and Dook are going steady, he's part of the family now. And if he's going to be part of the family, he should see our family memories. Besides, you've been missing long enough that it's started to feel like these pictures are all I had of you! You might need a refresher yourself, y'know."

"Alright, alright." Beach Bear picks up a book and opens it to a random page. "These are, like, exclusively baby pictures of me," he complains.

"What's wrong with that?" She replies, snatching the book from him. "Anyway–" She sits down next to Dook, flipping back to the first page. "–Here's our Baby Bear when we first brought her home from the hospital–"

"Mom," Beach Bear says.

"Would you quit your complaining?" Betty says.

"I don't think Dook wants to see my baby pictures," he says.

"Dook, do you have any issue with looking at our family memories?" Betty asks Dook.

Dook looks between the two of them, unsure who he should appeal to. Beach Bear would hate it if this continued, but probably wouldn't be too angry at Dook himself. Betty might be angry if they didn't continue, and he doesn't know her well enough to determine how bad it'd be. And... well, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious to see the pictures, too. He shakes his head no.

"See?" Betty says. Beach Bear sighs, but doesn't protest further. He stands from the couch.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he says.

"That's not very becoming language!" Betty calls after him.

"I'm going to powder my nose!" Beach Bear calls back, already halfway to the bathroom.

Betty sighs. "Children," she says to Dook. She flips the page. "Oh, this is her first day of preschool!"

·–—–·

Dook sits at the dinner table, staring down at the array of utensils laid out in front of him. They'd already been served soup, and Dook had to watch which spoon everyone else picked up first. It's silent in the room other than the sound of their own eating, making the whole room feel uncomfortable. At least he's managing. He glances at Beach Bear, sitting across the table from him. His expression is unreadable. Dook hopes he's holding up okay.

"Mr. Baxter," Margaret says, poking her head through the door to the dining room. "Dinner is ready."

"It's early, Margaret, isn't it?" Beau glances at the clock on the wall. "We're still on the first course."

"Yes, sir, but... the meal has been finished for a while now," Margaret protests meekly.

"We're still on the first course," he says again, gesturing to the soup bowl in front of him.

"O- of course, sir, but the meal will get cold if–"

"Margaret–"

"Beau," Betty says, her tone much gentler than his has become. She puts a hand gingerly on his arm. "Margaret, thank you. Please bring in the meal now."

Margaret nods, and disappears behind the door again.

"...Tense dinner," Beach Bear offers.

Both Betty and Beau sigh, but don't answer past that.

It's a moment more of silence before Margaret reappears, pushing a cart of food. Dook immediately recognizes the scent of seafood, but can't place the smell exactly. Margaret places plates in front of everyone at the table. It's an incredibly dark meat, with mushroom and rice on the side.

"Is this...?"

"Seal," Betty says. "It's a delicacy among polar bears... and Beatrice's favorite." She smiles at Beach Bear.

"Yeah," Beach Bear adds. "I haven't had it in ages."

"Dook, you've never had it?" Beau asks. Dook shakes his head, and Beau laughs. "You're in for a treat, then."

Margaret approaches Dook again, with a bottle of wine in hand. She gestures for his glass so she can pour the drink. Dook hesitates. He hasn't had any alcohol since... since his 'incident,' causing this whole mess. He's not sure if having anything to drink tonight is exactly a smart idea.

"I, uh, I really shouldn't," he says quietly to her.

"Don't be ridiculous," Beau says. "You're a guest, have something to drink."

Dook glances toward Beach Bear.

"You wouldn't want to deny their hospitality... honey," he says somewhat awkwardly. Dook had almost forgotten they're meant to be a couple.

"R– right," he says. "I guess I can have a glass, then." He passes his glass to Margaret, who fills it with the dark red liquid. Dook can't deny the little surge of excitement he gets when he sees it pour out of the bottle. What a pretty color.

"So, Dook," Betty says, "tell me about you."

"Well, I–"

"He speaks Spanish," Beau says. "Did you know that?"

"No," Betty says, enthused. "What a cultured young man. How did you meet Beatrice?"

Dook freezes at the question. He knows how they met, but he also knows they'd hate the answer. He hadn't prepared any better of a story.

"We met at a social thing," Beach Bear cuts in. "Remember that youth group thing I mentioned to you on the phone?" Betty nods. "Dook's a counselor for a group a bracket below mine. We had a counselors-only get-together situation, and we met there." He takes a bite of his food. "Very family-friendly."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Beau says. Then, "Dook, I wasn't aware you worked with children."

Dook wasn't aware, either. "I'm... very humble," he says. He stares down at his plate. He didn't even realize seal was a thing anyone ate. It's dark red, almost black. His nose is telling him otherwise, but... he takes a bite. It's unlike anything he's ever had before– and he's unsure if that's a good thing or not. Far too fishy for his taste, he knows. But he know he needs to keep up appearances, so he can't stop eating entirely. Instead, he takes a sip of his wine. It's good– sweet, and not too dry. Dook starts taking bigger sips.

"Mmh," Beau grumbles. "Did you see that story on the news this morning? I swear, they need to bring back actual reporting. This whole thing with–"

"Beau, honey," Betty says. "Not at dinner."

Beau grumbles again, trying to find another topic to discuss. "...Tax season's coming up."

No one knows how to respond– the table falls quiet. Dook finds his glass empty already. He puts it down on the table, picking more at his meal. It only takes a few more nibbles at the meat for Margaret to return with the bottle, offering him more. Who is he to deny their hospitality?

"This is really good," he says to no one in particular as he drinks more.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're enjoying the meal," Betty says. Dook blinks, looking down at his barely-touched plate.

"Right," he says.

The dinner continues in bouts of silence for a while longer– spurts of uncomfortable conversation sandwiched by quiet portions of just eating and drinking. Dook makes his way through about half the plate and a third glass of wine. By then, he's not quite paying attention to the conversations happening around him, more listening idly as he feels that familiar pleasant fuzz come over him.

"So, ah. Mom, Dad, how have things been?" Beach Bear says, if only to break another stretch of silence. "Since I was last here, and all."

"...We redid the game room," Betty says.

Dook's ears perk up. "Game room?"

"Oh, yeah," Beach Bear says. "You'd like it, Dook. We should play a game after this."

"Okay," Dook says, smiling for possibly the first time since they got here. He glances toward Margaret– who moves to open a second bottle.

"And you?" Beau asks, not looking up from his plate. "What have you gotten up to since you stopped talking to us?"

"...Well, uh... Dook and I have been, uh, putting together a band," Beach Bear says.

"Don't tell me you're still doing that music crap," Beau says.

"Beau," Betty says.

"No," he says, "No, this is just ridiculous. If she were a musician, a real one playing real music, I'd understand. But this– this 'rock and roll' thing? There's no class!"

"Dad, I–"

"Is this what you left us for?" He says.

"That's not why!" Dook snaps.

"Dook!" Beach Bear says sharply. "Don't... Don't get involved."

"I... Okay," he says. Beach Bear's right– he's being impulsive. Dook looks to his glass, just in time to see Margaret fill it up again. A wash of shame comes over him. He keeps drinking.

"I don't know what I expected from you," Beau continues. "What did I want? Change? After all this time of you missing?"

"Beau, I think you've had too much wine, honey," Betty tries.

He ignores her. "What did I expect, maturity? Class? Respectability? From you?"

Beach Bear clenches his jaw, but doesn't say anything.

"What other little 'phases' of yours are you not over?" Beau interrogates, standing from his chair and leaning over the table toward Beach Bear. "I swear to God, if I find out you've still been smoking pot, I'll–"

"You'll what?" Beach Bear says. "Disown me?"

Beau opens his mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. Everyone at the table knows Beach Bear is already basically estranged. He sits down.

"...Your voice sounds different," he mutters.

Beach Bear stabs his fork into a mushroom. "I'm still working at the music store, Mom."

Betty laughs, sharp and nervous. "That's– that's great, honey," she says. She stands with her plate. Margaret hurries to take it from her, and only then does Betty seem to remember she's here.

"Excuse me," she says, before hurriedly leaving the room.

·–—–·

"Beach Bear," Dook says.

"I know, it's not what you expected," Beach Bear says.

"Beach Bear."

"Look, I'll teach you how to play, alright? Don't worry about it."

"Beach Bear."

"What?"

"I'm, uh..." Dook shifts awkwardly, the plush carpeting of the game room under his feet making him feel somewhat unsteady. "I'm sorry. About dinner."

"Why?" Beach Bear asks. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"You–" He's still buzzed, which isn't helping him find the right words. "You got mad at me."

Beach Bear sighs. "I'm not mad at you, man. I'm– I'm sorry I snapped at you then. I got stressed, 'cause I thought you were gonna say something about..." His eyes flash to the doorway for a second. "...y'know."

"...I almost did," Dook says.

"But you didn't," Beach Bear tells him. "That's what matters." He stands from the bench they're sitting on. "How are you doing?"

"How am I...?" Dook doesn't understand the question.

"Well, for starters, you were kinda getting through dinner on wine," Beach Bear says. "And I know dinner was... I know my family's..." He makes a sour face, not finishing the sentence.

"I know," Dook says.

"They're... usually better than that. Especially with guests."

"It's been a long time since they saw you," Dook says. "It's– it makes sense if they're, y'know. What's the word?"

"Harboring some emotions?" Beach Bear responds, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Yeah," Dook says, "it's all pent up n' all."

"I guess." Beach Bear doesn't seem happy with the answer, but it's not like there's a better answer out there.

"At least we leave tomorrow," Dook offers.

"Yeah," Beach Bear says. He moves over to Dook's left, toward the billiards table. "You still want me to teach you how to play?"

Dook stands. "Yeah. Show me."

Beach Bear hands Dook a cue before putting all the balls into place. Dook holds it somewhat awkwardly, unsure of the right positioning before settling on holding it horizontally with both hands. Beach Bear finishes setting up the game, resting the stick vertically at his side, and Dook quickly corrects. Beach Bear snickers.

"I'll start," he says. "The goal of the game is to get all of your balls into the holes on the sides of the table. You can only hit the white ball, which has to knock the other balls into the holes. If you get the white ball in the hole, you lose a turn and I get to put it wherever I want. If you get the black 8 ball in the hole before you've done everything else, you automatically lose."

"Which balls are mine?" Dook asks.

"There's the solid color ones and the striped ones– whoever gets one in first gets to claim that type." Beach Bear lines up his cue, hits the white ball, and the group of colored balls scatter. A red striped one lands in a corner pocket. "Looks like I'm stripes. If you get a ball in, you get to go again."

"Sounds like you're makin' up the rules as you go," Dook says. Beach Bear laughs. He lines up again, and hits a green striped ball– which bounces off the edge of a pocket and doesn't go in.

"Your turn, big shot," he says.

Dook assesses the table. There's a solid yellow ball near a pocket, but he's not sure how to actually get it in there. He approaches the white ball, trying to mimic the pose he saw Beach Bear in. After a moment, he hits the ball– or, at least, tries to. His cue is unsteady, and it cants upwards, barely skimming the top of the ball. It rolls forward about an inch.

"You can retry if you want," Beach Bear tells him. Dook moves the ball back to where it started, trying again. This time, he's a bit more powerful, and while he still hits the side of the ball, it moves. It bounces off the wall of the table and lands gracefully in a pocket.

"Damn," he mutters. Beach Bear chuckles, retrieving it from the bottom of the table.

"Looks like I get to go twice again," he teases, placing it back on the table near one of his balls. But his confidence gets the better of him, and he manages to both miss the ball he was going for and land the white one in a pocket again. "Alright, well. Never said I was good at this game."

Dook laughs, taking the ball from him. He isn't sure where to place it, so he just puts it down near one of his balls. "How do you–?" He tries to line up the cue again, still not comfortable with the position.

"Here," Beach Bear says, "lemme show you."

Beach Bear moves behind Dook, wrapping his arms around him to help him into position. His size makes this no issue– he easily reaches Dook's hands and helps him adjust his grip on the cue. He's not fully behind him, slightly off to his left, but Dook can't ignore how it feels to have Beach Bear's whole body lean into him like this. He's so big, and warm, and soft... his fur, while covered by his clothes, still makes him feel almost plush to the touch. Dook would give anything to have this feeling last forever.

"Relax," Beach Bear says. "You're too tense with it."

"Ah– right," Dook says, trying to loosen up. It's hard when they're in this position. Beach Bear slides Dook's left hand forward on the cue, lifting it slightly upward to aim straight at the ball. His right hand clasps over Dook's right hand, pulling the cue back...

Dook's ball rolls smoothly into the pocket.

"We did it," Dook murmurs.

"Yeah!" Beach Bear says, finally pulling away. "Nice job, Dook."

"You did the whole thing for me," Dook says.

"I wasn't the one holding the cue." Beach Bear smirks. Dook flushes, and he finds himself thankful for the alcohol. At least it can serve as a cover for getting this flustered.

"You got real close," he says. "If I didn't know no better, I'd say the fake dating thing wasn't an act." He laughs, trying to make it clear he's joking. Is he joking?

Beach Bear doesn't respond to him directly, just gives him a knowing look. "It's your turn again."

Dook swallows, still unconfident in his own skills. "I, uh. I need help still," he says.

Beach Bear smiles. "Can't get enough of me, huh?" He jokes. "Alright, line up for me. I'll correct you."

Dook finds another ball to aim for and lowers himself toward the table again. It is starting to make more sense for him now, it's just a matter of practice. But he'll never refuse Beach Bear leaning over him and guiding his hands again. Jeez. He's not sure if it's his embarrassment or the wine that's making him feel this warm.

"You're already looking better," Beach Bear says from behind– he's not leaning on Dook this time, but he is leaning very close– he's talking quietly right into his ear. His left hand meets Dook's, guiding his aim. They pull back the cue...

"Oh–!" A voice says from the doorway. Dook hits the ball from reflex, and the 8 ball goes tumbling into the pocket. Game over. Betty stands there, quickly averting her eyes. "Goodness. I didn't expect I'd need to knock."

Beach Bear suddenly straightens at the sight of his mother, and Dook follows. "No need to knock," Beach Bear says. "I'm just helping Dook with his aim. He's never played billiards before."

Betty sighs, though the flush on her face is still there. "Of course. I just wanted to let you two know the room is ready, whenever you're ready for bed."

"The room?" Dook asks.

"Yes, your bedroom. Is there an issue?"

The two look at each other. Are they going to be sharing a bedroom? Did both of them forget to factor this in? Beach Bear shakes his head. "No issue here," he says. "Can you– uh– we should go there, now."

"R- right," Dook says.

"Yes," Betty concurs.

The two hastily put their cues back where they got them and follow Betty to the bedroom. Dook spares a quick glance at Beach Bear, and while he can't tell for sure, it looks like he's blushing, too.

They head upstairs and down a hallway– this place really is a mansion. After a few minutes, they finally reach the room. Betty opens the door for them, and the three file inside.

“M– Mom,” Beach Bear says, a dawning look of horror on his face.

The room is very clearly that of a little girl’s. The walls are covered in a pale blue, flowery wallpaper. The bed, while large enough for two adults, is covered in plushes and decorative pillows- a pink striped blanket covers the mattress. The walls are adorned with flower-themed decorations, crayon drawings, and a few band posters.

“You redid the game room, but… not my bedroom?” He asks. “In like, seven years?”

“Why would we?” Betty replies. “We wanted to preserve what was here. We love you, Baby Bear.”

Beach Bear all but winces at hearing that. What exactly are they preserving by keeping this the way it is? This isn’t Beach Bear at all. Whoever used to live in this room… they’re clearly gone, if they ever lived here at all. Dook looks at the way Betty beams at the sight of the room. She’s so wrapped up in protecting her daughter, she hasn’t realized in all this time that she doesn’t have one.

Betty pats Beach Bear on the shoulder. “Goodnight, honey,” she tells him, before leaving the room.

Beach Bear swallows, then sighs. “I’m, uh–”

“It’s okay,” Dook says, smiling shyly at him. “I don’t mind how the room looks.”

“I’m sorry about her, too.”

“Hey.” Dook nudges him in the arm, stopping himself just short of taking his hand. “You didn’t do nothin’ wrong. So you don’t gotta apologize for nothin’.”

Beach Bear smiles faintly. “Yeah,” he says. “We… still have to share a bed, though.”

“We don’t have to,” Dook suggests. “I could…” He eyes a plush looking chair in the corner. “I could sleep there.”

“Nah, I’m not gonna make you do that,” Beach Bear says. “We’ll just rough it.” He chuckles to himself, and approaches the bed. “It’s like camping. You gotta put up with tough shit sometimes, but it’s part of the fun.”

Dook follows him to the bed. “You doin’ okay? With everything that’s happened?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Beach Bear says, but Dook recognizes a twinge of that tired tone in his voice.

“...’Least we leave tomorrow,” Dook says.

Beach Bear smiles, the most genuine smile he’s seen from him all day. “Yeah,” he says. “Hope you don’t mind being my boyfriend until then.”

Dook snickers, climbing onto the bed. “Not if you don’t mind being mine.”

“Take your clothes off, you dweeb,” Beach Bear teases, hitting Dook with a pillow.

“Fine.” Dook pulls his shirt off. Margaret’s left their bags neatly opened by the window. Dook goes over to it and pulls out their pajamas. “I’ve never seen you wear pajamas,” he tells Beach Bear.

“Because I don’t wear pajamas,” he says. “I sleep in my underwear. But my parents would–”

“--hate that,” Dook finishes.

“Exactly. Gimme.” Dook tosses them over before changing into his own.

“Well,” Dook says, rejoining Beach Bear in bed. “One more day?”

“Half a day,” Beach Bear says. “We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.” Dook gets comfortable under the covers as Beach Bear reaches for the light. Teasing each other about dating is fun and all, but the idea of actually sleeping in the same bed as Beach Bear makes Dook’s heart beat at a mile a minute. He’s a little afraid Beach Bear might actually be able to hear it. But there’s no time to question it– they’re already in bed together.

“Goodnight, ‘babe,’” Beach Bear says as he turns off the light.

Dook’s heart flutters. “Goodnight, honey.”

[avelera]

for the fic writer ask thingy, 3 and 18?

also, 19 but only if you really really wanna, no pressure?

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

It's often the one I've just finished but at the moment, I'm quite fond of "Giving Sanctuary" since it's recently complete and the longest thing I've ever written! I also really enjoyed writing "Banana Daiquiris" and have flirted with writing a second chapter, but that one's so dependent on cracking myself up with Dreamling/Retired-Dream humor that I don't really sit down to write I just sort of let it go at its own pace as ideas occur to me.

18 . What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

Oftentimes my favorite lines are ones that my readers enjoy. I put a LOT of thought into almost every line but I don't fall in *love* with a line until a reader tells me it was meaningful for them too. I probably have at least one favorite line per chapter in Giving Sanctuary but...

Well, if I'm going to be particularly evil, I mentioned in ch. 6 that Robyn's chapter made me cry while writing it. But this is the line where I had to pause writing because I was crying so hard:

"Robyn leaned down and kissed the top of Hob’s head, the moment overlaid with another memory: Robyn as a toddler kissing a bump on Hob’s head, All better. And it was Robyn as a young man, laughing at how his father was now shorter than him, kissing the top of his head to demonstrate, See? Suppose that makes me the man of the house now."

The "All better." is what killed me. Because toddlers can be so sweet with how they try to kiss a cut or a bruise better, when they try to start taking care of others in return. And I just imagined Hob raising his son and something silly happening, bumping his head somehow, maybe while playing with his son, and baby Robyn trying to kiss his immortal father better, and then what it would be like to watch that baby grow up and then to lose him... I don't have children but the devastation of that thought of raising a child only to lose them as an adult but still far too soon just gutted me. Giving Sanctuary the story is so based in the longterm pain Hob and Dream are suffering from losing their children, even decades or millennia after they died, so it was really important not just to show that pain but show it well enough to experience it for the premise to fully work that for any flaws they might have as parents (on Dream's part) or as people (on Hob's part) and no matter how different Hob and Dream are as people from each other, they are both laid low by this particular pain such that it bridges the gap between them.

Also I'm just a complete sucker for characters needing to kiss a loved one goodbye forever. Guts me every single time. Nevertheless, even I was surprised to start crying while I wrote something. That was new.

19. And here's a cheeky little glimpse of "Keeping Sanctuary" ;3

Hob swore under his breath and wrestled with the button on his shirt cuff. His books and papers lay in neat stacks before him on his desk, the larger folio finely bound (and he would know), the single hand-written page tucked away within the cover. The morning light of late spring streamed through the diamond-patterned windows of the Manor House, promising a warm and relatively cloudless day, for England. 

Speaking of the house…

“Manny, could you be a mate and help me with this, please?” Hob sighed and held out his right hand with the trailing sleeve. “I swear the buttons get smaller every year.” 

It was a testament to the year he’d spent living at the borders of Dream’s kingdom and all its accompanying wonders that Hob no longer jumped out of his skin whenever one of his eldritch servants or, in this case, the spirit of the Manor House himself who was technically Hob’s servant, appeared out of thin air. 

“I’ve no idea why you’ve worked yourself into such a state this morning, Robert. You judge yourself far more harshly than Lord Morpheus ever would,” the Manor House, or Manny as Hob had begun to call the House originally as a joke, which unfortunately had stuck. 

[tuiyla]

9 13 19 Pezberry for the ship ask game :)

9 - Do they discuss big issues? Religion? Marriage? Children? Death?

I have this very vivid image in my head that could easily work even with platonic Pezberry. Santana climbs into Rachel's bed because she refuses to keep sleeping on the couch and they talk, a bit. Everyday things, but Santana keeps stressing it more and more how tired she is and Rachel keeps bringing up new topics. Finally, Santana yawns and closes her eyes, a clear indication that she's ready for sleep. Rachel quiets down and stares at the ceiling, dramatic pause, just enough time for Santana to start drifting to sleep. Then Rachel turns and asks, "do you believe in the afterlife?" And of course Santana can only grown and mutter something like "I swear to god Berry, if you don't shut the fuck up..."

But they keep talking anyway. It's usually late at night in bed where they get to the big issues because their daily lives are so busy and feels safer to talk at night. The downside is severe sleep deprivation because neither can shut up nor do they want to go to sleep because they wanna keep talking forever. Santana's surprised how much she hangs on every word and Rachel shares things she never thought she had so many opinions about.

They talk about religion. Rachel's faith coming so easily to her fills Santana with a longing for a life where religion didn't remind her of Alma saying "shame" and "sin" over and over again. They talk about death and Rachel admits how greatly she fears it. They talk about marriage and kids, jokingly at first with Santana making snide comments about little Berrys but as their relationship evolves it turns into a serious matter. Rachel talks about having complicated feelings due to Finn, both the almost marriage and his passing.

13 - What do they do for fun? Do they have a favorite activity or do they like to switch things up?

I think quality time would be a shared love language. For some reason, just chilling together and not worrying about a million duties comes to mind first. They live such hectic lives and have such intense personalities that it feels nice to just coexist every now and then.

On the rare occasion that they find the time, they go on dates. Rachel's are always pre-planned with a ton of activities, like spending the whole day at the fair, and Santana's are spontaneous like a road trip and several unexpected but ultimately bonding incidents. They also sing together all the time because of course.

19 - What do they fight about? What are their arguments like? How do they make up?

Oh they're Pezberry so they fight all the time. Little things, though.Roommates stuff. That's mostly banter but when it gets to the real stuff it can really sting. Whenever Santana gets a whiff of Rachel bringing up high school or not trusting her fully she goes on the defensive and it can get nasty. It takes effort to truly leave all that behind. And then they argue about work and life and not being able to focus enough on each other and also live their busy lives.

At the end of the day, they always realize they want the same things. Rachel is a lot more willing to say mea culpa and apologize verbally and Santana just does something nice for her, hoping that's enough. I think making up is a lot more chill for them so no makeup sex but definitely "we're fighting and I hate you rn" sex, all the time.

[swtki]

Dancing Days - Edward Cullen x Reader Smut

Anonymous said: 19&24 on edward smut? love ur writing!

A/N: Thank you so much :) also I’m so happy everyone is h*rny for Eddy. I decided I want to explore more period times with Edward, changing his persona in a certain decade, but still ultimately being in the same universe as cannon. This will play into the readers character a tad bit.

WARNINGS: 18+ CONTENT, SWEARING, S*X, VAMPIRES, ORAL SEX (MALE RECIEVING), VIRGIN! EDWARD, NON VIRGIN READER, GENDER NEUTURAL READER, MENTIONS OF WAR AND DEATH. 

19: “Fuck me like you want people to know”.

24. “Thing is, I’m a virgin”. 

_______________________________________

I brushed my hair into its usual part, making sure I looked flawless. The year was 1976, I was a senior in Highschool. It was a wonderful time to be a teenager, no longer afraid that my friends would die in Vietnam. Even in my dinky little Washington town, the culture was becoming our own. 

The Led Zeppelin record playing on my record player stopped suddenly, alerting me that I was no longer alone in my room. I turned, my expression soft as I saw my boyfriend, Edward.

“Whats up with you and this album? Everytime I come in, its always House of Th Holy on repeat.” I rolled my eyes, lifted the record in question off of the tray, and put it back snuggly in its case. 

“I can’t help it, Ed. Robert just speaks to me. I’m sure you’re like that with Louis Armstrong.” I waved my hand, walking back to my mirror to finish getting ready. 

“Maybe, but the music you listen to it’s...” Edward paused for a moment, sitting on my bed. “It’s suggestive, Y/N.” I turned to him, my eyebrow raised.

“Suggestive? What’s that supposed to mean?” I placed my hands on my hips, and waited for him to explain.

“Well, for one that one song says ‘Sipping booze’, I quite think that is blatant alcohol reference.” I looked at him, dumbfounded. Then, I started to laugh, and I walked over to him. Instinctually, he pushed his head into my chest, enjoying the comfort it brought him. 

“I love you, but god are we from two different Mars.” He chuckled, sending a rumble through my chest.

At school, I was an average kid. Fair grades, many friends, many ex friends. When Edward was paired up with me in math, I got through his cold, stone skin. At first, he was annoyed when I would fuck off, leaving him to do the work himself. Understandable, and once I realized how rude I was, I stopped. I talked to him, prodded him truthfully. I would ask him once we started dating if he had noticed me previously, because I had never noticed him. 

“Yes, I noticed that you were the only one who didn’t acknowledge me. Ironic I guess.” 

A year into our relationship, I would never let him go unnoticed. We walked the halls, hand in hand. Our outlooks were so different when it came to life. He was modest, I was free spirited. Edward was different from my boyfriends previously, I didn’t want to fuck things up, and I refused to even risk it. 

School went slowly that day, possibly because my head was focused on what I would ask Edward, my boyfriend of one year, about sex. About us and sex. 

I hadn’t told him that I wasn’t a virgin, I was worried he would only want a virgin girl, after all they can never look at you disappointed and say “I’ve had better.” A definite plus. Many a nights I tried to imagine him, moaning completely under my control. I wanted him, but I didn’t know if he wanted me. Surely in 50 years he had found a good fuck. I worried that he would be into someone else, forever tied to a vampiress. 

The end of the school day couldn’t have come sooner, my anxiety rising as I got into Edwards car, starting a long silent car ride. I tried to keep my mind off of it, an attempt to avoid the conversation until we were at my house. I kept my mind busy with the lush scenery outside of the passenger side window. 

“So... I know you want to ask me, and I know the answers to what I would ask you.” He said blatantly, putting the car in park outside my front lawn. 

“I don’t wanna talk out here Ed, lets go inside.” I swung my bag onto my shoulder. Thats the thing with Edward, I never have to say anything, just as long as I think it. 

My house was empty, making it easy for Edward to follow me upstairs to my room. I shut my door behind us, then turned to him. Unsure of what to say, I breathed in deeply.

“How long have you known that I wasn’t...you know?” He smiled, sitting on my plush navy sheets. 

“Y/N, I knew before I met you what I was getting into. Your ex had a lot of thoughts about that one night where you guys-” 

“Oh my god okay ew.” A blush rose upon my face, and I saw Edward laugh as he watched my body fill with embarassment. “Well why didn’t you say something?” I asked.

“I figured if it needed to be brought up, it would be. You and I aren’t exactly a physical couple so I didn’t worry too much.” I walked over to my bed, taking a seat next to him.

“I see...I mean it wouldn’t be a big deal for me so if you want to...” I bit my lip at him, his gaze turned to the other direction.

“Thing is, I’m a virgin.” My expression went from a seductive look, to a puzzled one. I wondered if I had heard him correctly. “I’m old school, Y/N. It wasn’t like how it is now when I was human. People didn’t just have sex in highschool, unless they were married because the man was off to war. So, it hasn’t been on the menu for me. You’re the first girl I’ve dated in fifty years, you know. And no, there was no vampiress or anything.” I smiled.

“Well, I don’t wanna scare you or push it or anything. It’s just you know-” 

“You want to touch me, to be touched by me.” his eyes trailed back to mine, looking deep into my soul.

“Yes, I want you, Edward.” I pressed my lips to his, pulling away jut as it got intense. I could feel his disappointment. “I want to...but I can’t let you down. Tomorrow night. I’ll call you and we can talk about everything we want out of it, I’ll give you a fucking fairytale, my love” I chuckled.

I called him that night as I had said I would. We talked about my first time, and everything I liked, followed by what he had seen on video, what he wanted to try, and his fears.

“I don’t want to kill you, darling.” He said.

“Then don’t. I won’t let you.” He laughed at me, enjoying my lack of seriousness.

The next night rolled along with a quick pace. I looked at the clock and saw that it was time for me to start getting ready. 

I made myself look simple, a small bit of makeup and hair product, but otherwise just a tank top and jeans. Sometimes, dating an old fashioned guy was a pain in the ass. Always complaining about suggestive behavior. But other times, my shoulders counted as being half nude.

“You look stunning, as per usual.” Edward said, stepping into my room. He was tense and barely moved. “I don’t know what to do..what usually happens with it if I’m not the one doing everything.”

If he had any blood flow, he would have been blushing right about then.

“We don’t have to do anything you know. We can just lay down and watch a movie if you want to, I just want to make you happy, Edward.” I walked over to him and put a strand of his messy auburn hair behind his ear. Without hesitation, he pressed his forehead to mine.

“I want to, thats the part that’s been eating me away ever since I met you. I want to make you feel good, I just don’t know if I’ll lose it and-“ I cut him off with a kiss.

“Even if you break my pelvis into pieces, I’ll still be happy. I’m always happy when I’m with you.” we both smiled, and suddenly the thick tension that once filled the room vanished. “I’ll take care of you tonight, just as long as you’re doing it for you. I just need to know you’re doing this for you, and you need to be sure you wont roll over afterwards and hate me.” I said, my hand clasped in his marble one.

“I want you, Y/N. I have no doubts that I’ll want you afterwards, too.”

I pushed his head down, level to my own. Our kiss was deep, filled with a years worth of hunger. My hands tugged on his hair, making him whimper. Suddenly, I felt my feet lift off the ground as Edward carried me to my bed. With a soft thump, the plush sheets surrounded my body. It was a contrast of warmth on my back, and Edwards cool body on my top.

His hands were balled into fists, clutching my duvet as if his life depended on it. I pulled away, panting for air.

“Sorry, I forget you need air.” He smirked. I rolled my eyes in response.

“Well, its a shame you don’t. Because I intend on taking your breath away.” we both made small laughs at my remark.

“What now?” He looked at me for guidance.

“Get on your back.” I said.

We switched positions, he was now on the bottom. My legs straddled his torso, I sight he visably enjoyed. I slithered my hands up to his head, cupping his face as I kissed him again. My left hand left its post, reaching down to the buttons on his shirt.

I paused, looking up at him once I got to the last button.

“Does it...work like normal or...” He threw his head back and laughed.

“It doesn’t have spikes, I can assure you its just like a humans. But Emmet did tell me to pull out so...I’m kind of worried about the implications of that but-“ I leaned down to shut him up with a kiss.

His hands were still at his side, resting on the bed. I picked up his wrists, and placed them on the side of my thighs. He squeezed them lightly.

My hands roamed over his bare chest, cool to the touch. I lached my lips onto his neck, causing his back to arch below me. I could feel his excitement beneath me, it gave me a big self esteem boost. His hand reached along my waist, tugging at my shirt. His eyes lit up at the sight of my bare chest. He reached for me but I pulled away to slide down onto my knees.

He looked confused, like I had left him high and dry.

“Sit on the edge.” I said softly, my knees burning slightly due to the rough carpet underneath them.

He rid himself of the unbottoned shirt, slidding over to me once finished. My hands slowly stroked his thighs, he was desperate for some type of touch.

I smiled, tugging on his belt until it came undone. He stayed silent, looking at me like I was the only thing in the world. I unbottoned the trousers, tugging on them. He kicked them off and was left in his breifs.

“Is it okay if I..” I looked up at him and he nodded frantically. I palmed him over his underwear, feeling how hard he had gotten from kissing. My fingers latched onto the waist band, pulling them down to reveal a pale yet pink cock. It wasn’t too big, but deffinitley satisfactory. I ran my finger over the tip, earning a small groan from the vampire. My eyes trailed up to him, so I could see him when I took him in my mouth.

He let out a breathy moan, eyes focused on my mouth. His lips were parted ever so slightly. I bobbed my head, and grotesquely sexual sounds arose from my throat. I felt Edward move a strant of hair out of my face, he looked at me like I was a god.

“Fuck..Y/N if you keep doing that there wont be anything for you, dear” He said in a breathy moan. I pulled back, my mouth feeling sore and tired. “Do you still want to?” He asked, grasping his hands on my waist.

“Yes, I fucking need you.” I threw off my jeans, I would worry about finding them later, I needed him. He layed back down, propping his head up on my pillows. Our lips collided in another kiss as I leveled myself with him.

“Are you sure?” I ask him, stroking his hard member.

“I’m sure.” He pecked my lips again as I got ontop of his lean figure. I spat in my hand, lubing up my needy hole.

“How do you want me to do this? I mean like slow? What do-“ He said with genuine worry.

“Fuck me like you want people to know” I whispered, “ Fuck me like you want the entire neighborhood to know that I’m yours and yours only.”

“I can make that happen, love.” He flipped me over, now being back to where we first started. He lined up his cock with my hole, running it around the tight area. I put my fingers in his hair, making a slight tug as he pushed into my body.

Pleasure filled my body as he filled me up, his cock stretched my insides in the right ways. Without pausing, he started to push his hips into mine, making sure not to hurt me.

He reached down to suck on my neck, adding to the pornagraphic moans in the room. My hands travled to his back, scratching my nails down the cold stone like skin. His moans echoed in my ear.

“Y/N, I can’t be on top I’m going to crush you” I laughed at him, tapping his side so he fell onto the bed. I swung my legs over him, sitting on his perfect cock.

“Perfect, fucking amazing.” He said as I steady myself onto him. His face was in a euphoric expression, the most relaxed I had ever seen him.

I began to rock my hips, sliding him in and out of me. His hands grabbed onto my hips, guiding me. Everything was a euphoric experience. My gut filled with that wonderful sensation.

“Edward I’m gonna cum, oh my god” I moaned out, picking up my pace.

Suddenly, the world went still. My eyes went black and I saw stars as my orgasm washed over me. My moans echoed in the room as my body twitched. A few thrusts up into my body and Edward pulled out of me, rubbing his cum out onto his hand.

I layed there panting while he sped to the bathroom, and came back with a clean cloth, wiping down my body. He put the cloth down, pulling up his underwear and handing me mine. I slipped the fabric on, slipping under the covers.

“Get in here, I wanna kiss you”

He laughed, obeying and slipping beside me. Our lips reunited in a soft clash.

“I love you so much, dear.”

[justfangirlthingies]

Caught my eye (Corpse Husband x reader)

Soulmate AU: In which everyone has one eye in their own eye colour and one in the colour of their soulmate. However, when you are close to meeting each other, your vision will change to the soulmate's one, letting you know you are close. When your eyes meet they will change their colour to their original eye colour.

Word count: 4189 words

Warnings: cursing because that is automatically given when writing about Corpse

Another Soulmate AU from my Wattpad account let's go!

Staring into the camera were a pair of, colourwise mismatched, eyes, one iris a deep brown and the other one a shimmering (e/c).

It was not unusual for someone to have two different eye colours in one set of eyes, it simply meant one had yet to find their significant other.

Pressing record on your camera you let your eyes stay right in front of the lens for a second before rolling backwards on your chair, your torso now in frame as well "Hello all of you beautiful individuals! I'm (y/yt/n) and as always I welcome you here!" You waved at your camera, a warm and welcoming smile gracing your lips. "In case this is your first time stumbling over this channel" you paused a second and giggled "Hi, welcome to this chaos!" Slowly you neared the camera again "Leave while you still can" you whisper shouted into your microphone.

"No hold on don't leave please! I was just kidding" You joked at your camera.

A happy sigh escaped your mouth as you leaned back in your chair "Today is q & a time isn't it?" You wiggled your eyebrows at the blinking light in front of you "Well let's get to it then...hmm...lemme see. Youtubetrash asks 'how old are you (Y/n)?' Do you always have to ask that question guys?" You scold playfully "I'm 19, but I really don't get why this is so important to you that I have to answer it in every video, like do you want to know the exact amount of days and minutes? Will you stop asking it every goddamn time then?" You chuckled as you ran a hand through your (h/l), (h/c) hair. "Right, next question! SusanIsAFish wants to know which eye colour my own is. I can easily answer that with either 'both are' or 'hell if I know' I've always had two eye colours like how am I supposed to know." A grin spread on your face as you continued to interact with your community's questions...

"Alright alright these are the last two questions guys. Nightmaresscareme...honestly same" you laughed as you read the users name out aloud. When you calmed down again you cleared your throat and continued "Ahem, anyways they wanna know if I found my soulmate already and who it is....Do I look like I found my soulmate?" You asked smiling as you approached the recording device once again and pointed a finger at each eye. "I have no Idea who it is but maybe you find whoever it is because all of you people are little Sherlock's I swear, you find out everything." Laughter erupted from your throat once again as you pointed at your camera.

"Last but not least, (y/n)stan asks 'when will you collab with Jack again? The two of you promised to make a video or something together?' Woah calm down, honestly I don't even think he remembers that, it was years ago. How do you even remember that (y/n)stan? I swear to god that's exactly what I meant with ya'll being Sherlock's." You wiggled your eyebrows again "But if you do remember, Seán and you magically happen to see this video. What happened to our collab plans dude?" You giggled "Alrighty guys that's it for today's video. Stay awesome my dudes, dudettes and in betweens and I'll see ya in the next one!" You winked and waved before stopping your recording and going straight to editing your video.

Just as you were about to upload your piece of work, your phone rang, scaring you in the process and causing you to delete your video. You groan in frustration holding your head in your palms.

"This better be important..." you mumbled to yourself as you went to check your phone. Seriously?! It was a Twitter notification. You sighed and ignored it for now, saving your video was a priority right now.

After hours of retrieving and re-editing your footage you finally uploaded the video to the worldwide known platform and picked up your phone to see what Twitter wanted from you.

As you opened the app you saw that it was a private message from none other than Jacksepticeye. What a freaking coincidence you thought, a smile now appearing on your face as you read the message. All your frustration was gone and instead replaced with confusion and laughter.  "What kind of message is that?" You muttered as you shook your head laughing.

Jacksepticeye:

Hey (Y/n) what colours are your eyes again?

(Y/T/N):

What kinda question is that? Lmao

Jacksepticeye:

Just answer my question dum dum :)

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A raven haired male was on a discord call with his online friend that he had just revealed his face to. "Jack what are you doing now?" The young man laughed at his friend.

"Hold on, I'm texting someone."

The dark haired man sighed and waited "that's not very polite you know" he smiled.

"Pschh I'm finding your soulmate, what's impolite about that?" The Irish man looked up from his phone and back at his Computer screen. Only to start laughing at the other's reaction.

"Corpse? You good?" He kept on laughing at the dumbfounded expression on Corpse's face.

Who as a reaction turned off his camera, suddenly feeling very insecure towards his friend again.

"What do you mean?" His deep voice asked cautious.

"Don't worry man I'm not leaking your face or any info to anyone" he smiled reassuringly. "Your eyes just reminded me of someone else with the same or very similar ones. At least I hope I remember their eye colours correctly" He rambled on.

"Oh..." came from the other line, which was now more quiet than usual.

Seán noticed the change in his friend's behaviour and immediately stopped what he was doing. "I'm sorry Corpse..." the Irishman scratched bis neck awkwardly "I should've asked you first"

"I-it's fine. I just can't imagine anyone wanting to be my soulmate" the male sighed.

His friend flashed an encouraging smile at the screen "Dude! Anyone would be happy to be your soulmate. I know I would be! You are great, I know you probably don't believe me but I mean it bud. Besides, your soulmate is your other half, it's like they were made for you"

One could hear a sigh coming from the black screen as Corpse turned his camera back on, his pink tinted cheeks now showing up on screen as well. He had put his eye-patch on, leaving only his brown eye visible. "And you're really sure?" He asked quietly.

"100% sure! Anyone with half a brain would know how lovable you are" the blue eyed male grinned. "Besides, the person I'm thinking of also has a YouTube channel, I think I still owe them a collab, sooo I could maybe invite them to play some kind of-"

He cut himself off. "They answered!"

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(Y/T/N):

Well they're like brown and (e/c), it's such a weird mix though.

Jacksepticeye:

Interesting.

Hey (Y/n), how about we do that collab? You could fly out and we meet up

(Y/T/N):

You still remember that? XD

Yeah sure I'd love that, I just had someone ask me about that collab today.

But seriously dude why are my eyes interesting to you all of a sudden? You found my soulmate or smth 🧐😂

Jacksepticeye:

😏😌🤭🤫

Right....

So when are you coming?

(Y/T/N):

Dude!

You literally just asked me if I even wanna come! Like come on, you think I've booked a flight already? Just like 10 minutes after you asked me to travel there?

Jacksepticeye:

As a matter of fact I don't just think so, I know it ;)

So when do I have the honors of picking your jet-lagged ass up at the airport?

(Y/T/N):

:(

...

This weekend

Time skip

A happy sigh escaped your lips as you felt the plane reaching the ground of its destination. You swiftly grabbed your bag and left the plane to get the rest of your luggage.

A yawn escaped your mouth as you grabbed your stuff, staying awake during the whole flight probably wasn't your best idea, but you couldn't help it. To you it was simply impossible to fall asleep on a journey by plane.

Your eyes skimmed the airport as you were searching for your friend.

After a few minutes of looking around you decided to sit down and wait, he was probably still on his way to the airport.

Just as you decided to open up your phone you got smacked in the face... With a balloon? "What the hell?" You whispered as you were pulled up from your seat and embraced. "(Y/N)! Hey! I haven't seen you in forever"

You looked up a little confused as you reciprocated the hug. "Well hello to you too Seán"

He chuckled and grabbed one of your bags before dragging you with him. "How can you be so motivated and energetic?" You giggled and tried to keep up with your Irish friend. "That (Y/n), is simply because I'm not sleep deprived like you"

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Setting up his stream was a curly haired nervous mess. He was always nervous when he had to stream. But today was somehow worse.

The half Mexican ran his fingers through his hair. It was just a game with friends right? However, he had never played this game before.

His nerves getting to him caused Corpse to cancel the idea of a stream. "I'll just be there and play along, that's fine too. I don't need to stream every time I'm playing a game with my friends..." he muttered to himself.

With a bottle of water beside him he started the game and went through the tutorial. "Man this game is fucking cute" he laughed before joining the discord call, just to be engulfed in a complete chaos of voices.

"Hey Corpse is here! Hi hi!" A Swedish voice boomed through his headphones along with the rest of the group greeting him. "Hey guys" he replied as he joined their server in the game. "So what are we doing? Why is no one starti-" the deep voice started but was cut of by someone else.

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"HOLY FUCKING- Who the hell was that?! Hello by the way" The whole call erupted in laughter at the reaction of the (h/c) haired individual.

"Uhh hi, that was me" Corpse answered laughing as he scratched his head nervously "and you also just answered my question for me thank you, whoever you are" Everyone laughed once again.

"Okay but seriously who are you?" Dave asked.

"Jack! You said you told em that I'd join" you huffed as you glanced At your friend next to you, you were sharing one discord account for this call as you sat right next to each other and didn't want the quality of the call to go down because of an echo. Both of you streamed online on twitch.

"Whoops! I thought I did" he chuckled once more as he introduced you to the party. "Well then..." he coughed in an attempt to clear his throat "Drum-roll please! this is (Y/n), they came to visit me this weekend. (Y/n), that's Dave, Felix, Joel, PJ and Corpse."

"Hi" you said suddenly a little nervous because you thought everyone knew you'd join.

Luckily no one seemed to mind that you were here as they greeted you. In fact, they seemed ecstatic to meet you.

"So have any of you not played this before?" Pewds asked the group. "Uh yeah, me" Yours and the deep voice said simultaneously. "But I did the tutorial" Corpse added. "Well I didn't" you laughed. "Great then we're all set, shame on you though (Y/n)!" Seán shouted.

"Jeez man, you told me to skip it and I can hear you! I'm right next to you and not deaf in case you didn't know" you sassed back, causing laughter to bounce through your headset once more.

"(Y/n) and Corpse you two haven't played before that means you count as one person for the group things cause both of you are noobs and if you count as one we have even team numbers" The swede joked.

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"We're the Meowfia" Jack laughed, starting off with his puns for this game.

(Y/n) snorted at that as everyone chose the animals of their teams. Corpse chose the cat with an eye-patch along with his team. "Maan this is peer pressure!" Your voice called out "lucky for me I like cats"

"That is the truth" the Irish voice boomed through the call once again, "I mean you should see, even their headphones have cat ears"

"I wanna see that!" Dave shouted.

"Can we see them in your cam Jack?" PJ asked.

"Not completely, they're streaming on Twitch though, its at (Y/YT/N) on Twitch and YouTube" Seán smiled as he pat your back.

"You can't just expose me like that!" The cute voice answered panicking.

"I gotta see that, hold on!" Felix shouted as he opened up your stream smirking as he followed you. "Corpse, they'll ruin your life" he continued as your cheeks flushed a bright red, suddenly feeling so exposed and put on the spot "why...why am I ruining his life?" You asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Corpse had also opened up your account as he stared in awe at the enchanting individual now on his computer screen. Were you the one Jack had meant? No it couldn't be.

"Well you see, he wrote a song about cat girls ruining his life. Right Corpse?" This statement made him come back to reality and quite flustered at that "Huh? What-  ...ohhh uhm- uh- yeah" he responded in a stutter, the pale skin of his cheeks heating up and turning red.

"Corpse are you alright?" you asked, concern not only laced in your voice but also written all over your face, which he saw. This whole ordeal just made him blush more. There was a short pause "...Yeah.." the raven haired responded. But not even a second later a laugh erupted in the call "Did we just catch you right handed?" The voice belonged to Dave. "What do you mean?" Corpse asked confused. While he waited for a response from his friend, he started fiddling with his rings as he kept his eyes on (Y/N)'s stream which was still pulled up on his screen. "Well, did we catch you watching her stream?" Dave replied trying to hold in his laughter.

Your expression changed as your eyes went wide and you looked right at your camera "Is that true?" Your voice chimed in as a hint of pink spread across your cheeks, one of your eyebrows arched. "Well..." The man with the username 'CORPSE' cleared his throat "I had to see if Jack and Felix were speaking the truth..."

A smirk spread across your face "And? Were they honest?" you laughed as your Irish companion moved his face into the frame of your camera wiggling his eyebrows. The only answer you got to your question was silence before the deep voice continued "Alright let's start this game." Yet another laugh escaped your throat when you noticed the lack of a reply to your question. However, one could say that silence was an answer on its own.

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The young guy sighed loudly after the game had ended, rolling back, away from his table, in his gaming chair he ran his hands through his curly hair. The game was fun, but it was exhausting for the man to concentrate on a game this long. Just as he was about to get up, turn all devices off and leave, he heard a familiar sound coming from his computer screen.

A discord call and video call at that was incoming from none other that Jacksepticeye. So, Corpse rolled forward in his chair again as he checked if his camera was turned off and covered. After reassuring himself that his face was hidden he accepted the call. "Hey whaddup?" He greeted his loud friend who immediately responded with a "Hey my man". His mismatched eyes widened as he looked at the screen, it was not only Jack on the call...they were there as well, a shy smile plastered on their face as they kept their eyes closed "Hey Corpse, tell me when your camera is off. Sean told me it might be on and I don't want you to accidentally expose yourself to me." "Oh yeah, it's off. You can open your eyes it's fine." Just as he finished his sentence their eyelids slowly fluttered open as they stared at the black screen and waved. There was no way to describe the feeling that went through him as he admired you in awe. He seemed starstruck and without thinking he blurted out "You have to visit San Diego sometime, but like soon"

Your eyes widened slightly not knowing how to respond to that "Umm...yeah I dunno, maybe someday?" Jack gasped dramatically "You never invited me over even though I'm the one you trusted enough to show your face to!"

Yet another time today, the male behind the black screen felt a blush grow on his face. "Well i-it's your fault for introducing me to your friend. And umm sorry if I was a bit too blunt there" He stuttered. "No it's fine. I'm a very spontaneous person ya know." You replied an embarrassed smile gracing your lips once more "But you could be a killer for all I know...sorry you probably hear that one a lot haha. Also, would you even be comfortable enough to meet up..." slowly you started drifting off with what you were saying. As soon as you realized you were trailing off of the topic at hand, you tried to get back to the conversation "ahem.. yeah, anyways as I was saying...someday sure. I mean...I am traveling around at the moment because I flew to Brighton. Maybe you know, we could get to know each other a bit better first" you smiled nervously as you replied.

"Ah yes...of course. Though I do have a question for you Seán. Is (Y/n) the one we spoke of a few days ago?" came back as a reply. He had a plan to gain their trust if they really were his suspected soulmate. The man next to (Y/n) nodded and gave a wink to the camera they used for the call. This action just confused you even more and it must have shown on your face because your loud friend started laughing at you. "Don't worry it was nothing bad" Jack reassured. "Hold on, is this about the random-" there was a lot of shuffling coming from the black screen. The noise had startled you a bit, causing you to stop mid sentence. "the random question about my eyes?" You continued your question, looking at that Irish friend of yours, but you didn't get a reply for there was another loud noise coming from Corpse's side of the screen. You shifted your attention back to the screen in front of you again just to be met with more shuffling and a sudden colour change of the screen. Your eyes widened as you saw a face only briefly for a split second before your vision suddenly changed. You looked around to see an unfamiliar room and as you saw the sight before your eyes you felt as though they were going to pop out of their sockets at any moment.

No...

No fucking way...

"Holy shit" you heard the words leave both your mouths. You just stared at the screen in front of you to see yourself, who apparently sat on the other side of the screen next to Seán. And you also saw the live view of a young man with black curly hair, dressed in black in a small window of the computer. You felt really dizzy all of a sudden and the light before your eyes went black briefly before returning to more used surroundings again.

Realisation dawned on you as you blinked a few times and spoke aloud "I-I just imagined that right? There's no way. C-Corpse you didn't happen to experience that right now, did-did you?"

"Holy fuck..." you heard a low mutter coming from the speakers.

Jack looked at you, eyebrows raised in confusion for a second before realization dawned on him and a knowing smirk appeared on his face as he shouted "CALLED IT!"

The two of you could not yet comprehend what was happening, let alone listen and realize what your mutual friend had to say.

After a few minutes of complete silence you tore your eyes away from the pen on Jack's desk, which had become the most interesting thing and perfect staring partner for the past minutes and shifted your gaze back to the young raven-haired individual before you, a small smile and a huge blush grazing your facial features as you spoke up, voice quiet and soft, but also full of nervousness "soo...umm...Corpse, are you gonna give me that address in San Diego?"

The question stood in the room for a few moments as silence engulfed you once again. Corpse's expression on his bright red face however, showed he was pondering."Y-yeah of course...sure...I-I'll text it to you if you give me that number of yours..." Then there was a pause. "Whe-When can I expect you then?"

This time it was your turn to think. "How about directly when you leave Brighton?" Jack chimed in. "But th-that's like in two days..." you stuttered in response. It was a nice idea and you did feel a pull to meet this handsome stranger as soon as possible. "Well yeah, that's the point is it not? I already checked for flights while you two where staring off somewhere....Sooo? Should I buy the ticket real quick? You can thank me later." Your mismatching eyes kept switching your gaze from your friend who had made this crazy suggestion and your apparent soulmate who now wore an eyepatch and was watching you expectantly while patiently awaiting your answer. A small sigh left your lips as you made your decision. When you tried to verbally answer though, your voice had left you, so you made eye-contact with the man also known as Corpse Husband, who had trusted you enough to reveal his face to you, and just gave him a small nod. He seemed to understand and gave you a reassuring smile.

"It's final then?" Seán, who had watched this whole ordeal unfold asked smiling happily as you just nodded once again "Y-yeah"

■

■

■

Two days later you found yourself on yet another plane ride, but this time it was not to England, nor was its destination your home. You sat on your seat in silence, music which you couldn't concentrate on, blasting through your headphones while you  twiddled with your fingers, bouncing your leg up and down quickly. What were you gonna say? He would pick you up outside of the airport in order to avoid bumping into things when the view-switching-thing would happen.

■

■

■

Meanwhile, the faceless YouTuber had finished tidying up his apartment and prepared everything for your arrival. He would be lying if he said he didn't look you up on the socials to learn more about you.

About half an hour before the plane would land he drove off to your designated meeting spot. He arrived there 10 minutes early so he could mentally prepare himself. About 5 minutes later he put on his black face mask and exited his car. At first he was gonna wait for you here, but his nerves and heart got the better of him, so he made his way closer inside the airport building to meet you halfway. What he didn't know was that your plane would land early. So, as he made his way through the people, which was way out of his comfort zone already, he started to see black dots clouding his view, but suddenly he came from the other side. Oh no. The body kept walking until he saw himself in the crowd.

Your eyes met as you tried to navigate through the crowd of people, it was hard as you had to control your own body somehow even though you could only see what your soulmate would usually see. Finally you had gotten somewhat closer to one another and as you came to a halt, your bodies mere inches apart as your eyesight returned to your own again. You looked up at the man in front of you in awe. Your eyes were fixated on his as you noticed the (e/c) in his one eye fade away, just to be replaced by this beautiful shade of brown that was in his other eye. The colour you knew so well because you had seen it in the mirror in one of your own eyes everyday. "Your eyes" you whispered. He smiled in return "yours too..it's nice to meet you (Y/n). My soulmate. You are even more dazzling in person" he complimented. "I can't say anything else besides the same applies to you" You smiled in return as your face went red. "Well then...Shall we?" he grinned as he took one of your backpacks and started walking. "Hey! Wait up!" You laughed as you ran to catch up to your soulmate...

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 19:

You stared helplessly at your phone.

He still hadn’t answered you or even read the texts you’d sent him- it had been over a week since you sent the last two.

Bakugou told you that he’d be away. That he wouldn’t be at his phone, but that was almost two entire weeks ago, and nobody would be without a phone for that long. You knew something was wrong. Could feel the incorrectness and hollowness in your soul- in that same part of your heart that had suddenly been filled since you met him. 

You sent him another text, fueled by nothing but desperation. 

Another few days went by. Nothing. Radio silence, and unread texts, and a heart that felt heavier with each passing moment.

That wrongness that you felt seemed to multiply by the minute, your skin seeming to itch and feel too tight and too lose all at once. You felt helpless. There was nothing you could do, no where you could look, nobody you could tell. 

All you knew was a last name- a last name that was common. A last name that was shared by 1000s of people all across Japan, and a last name that was shrouded entirely by a pro-hero who was everywhere you looked. 

You’d already tried searching, desperately typing in that last name, but the only thing you could ever pull up was articles about Bakugou Katsuki. Dynamite. Pro-hero highlights and various smear pieces were all you could find under that last name. It was just picture after picture of a blonde head of hair and a scowling face that wasn’t your soulmate’s. Explosions and ash and burning debris and villains and heroes and- you resented Dynamite. He was the reason you couldn’t reach your Bakugou. 

There was nothing you could do. Absolutely nothing, and it nearly killed you.

You threw your phone away in frustration, crushed by another search that yielded nothing but Dynamite. 

You wanted to cry, wanted to yell, wanted to scream until your throat tore for all the things being stolen from you. If he wasn’t okay, if he wasn’t still able to be there for you, all of your childhood dreams were over. There would be no happy ending for you, no fairy-tale love, no perfect puzzle pieces finally slotting together. There would just be you. You and your one-half of a soul and one-half of a name and a potential funeral you couldn’t even go to because you didn’t know who he was or where he lived or how to reach him past a phone. All you had was his voice, all you got to have was his voice and his jokes and a siew of nicknames and texts and it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough because it was bits of him; little, tiny, miniscule pieces of someone that was supposed to be yours but apparently wasn’t. Instead of him, it was just you- alone and waiting and etched with a ugly tattoo you should’ve never expected to guarantee forever. 

You didn’t want to think about it- didn’t even want to entertain the idea of him not being okay- but at this point it felt like you had no other choice. Bakugou didn’t seem like the type to just disappear- had proven time after time to you that he wasn’t. Something was wrong. Horribly, terribly, catastrophically wrong and you just knew it. Could feel it settling in your bones like a poison.

You fell onto your bed, peeling back the covers and collapsing onto your pillow. You couldn’t remember falling asleep. Couldn’t even be sure when you stopped crying. 

--/--

You suddenly jolted awake- fingers scrambling to find your ringing phone.

Bakugou :)) - Incoming Call 1:07 AM

You felt like you couldn’t breathe- like there wasn’t enough air in the world to make your lungs work. With shaking fingers, you accepted the call. 

“Hey, idiot.” Bakugou’s voice was hoarser than you remember, barely there and weak through the phone. He coughed. “Been a fuckin’ while, huh?”

Your heart jumped, seeming to nearly seize at the sound of his voice- at the sound of his croaking breath, at the sound of him present and okay on the other end of the phone. You pressed your palms into your eyes, trying to will yourself not to cry, but you couldn’t help it. He was there, and fine, and talking and it didn’t feel like your heart was breaking anymore.

“You motherfucker,” You choked out, trying to clear the tears from you throat. You were sure Bakugou could hear them anyway. “Fuck you- you asshole.”

Bakugou just seemed to laugh- a thin, withering sound that got stuck in his throat. He coughed again, the sound of his chest rattling audible and frightening through the phone. 

“Yeah.” He croaked. “Fuckin’ deserved that one, huh?”

“Where were you?” You held your phone with both your shaking hands, clutching at it desperately. “Y-you didn’t- fuck- you didn’t answer! And I texted you and texted you and you didn’t fucking answer and I was so worried, you absolute fucker, and scared and I-I-”

Your shuddered, gasping to catch your breath. It felt like every bit of anxiety you’d had from the past two weeks was crawling up your throat all at once. It was torrent of worry and desperation and anguish tearing apart your ribcage and bursting out your mouth. You were tired and your chest hurt and you couldn’t seem to stop crying. 

“It-it’s okay. I’m okay. Stop crying, sunshine.” He soothes, but his voice is too thin and too ragged and all it does it make you worry. “I’m right fuckin’ here- not goin’ anywhere, okay?”

“Y-you’re not! You’re not okay! I can fuckin’ hear you. Y-you’re coughing and your voice doesn’t sound right and-” You take a deep breath, wiping at your eyes. “What happened to you?”

A pause. Another cough. Another round of chest-rattling coughs.

“I, uh, jus’ got a little fuckin’ hurt s’all.” He grits out. “It’s-I’m fine. It’s alright. I’ll be just fuckin’ fine.”

“For two weeks? You were hurt for two weeks?”

“No- I, uh, got held up for a bit. And then hurt.”

“What?” You gasp, incredulous. “Bakugou- t-that doesn’t- it doesn’t make any fucking sense! Held up? What the hell does that even mean?”

There’s silence from his end, but you can hear his ragged breaths and a steady, mechanical beeping through the phone.

“W-what’s that beeping sound?” You ask.

“It’s nothing- it’s uh-”

“Bakugou. Cut the bullshit, please-” You beg voice high and desolate. “Just tell me what’s going on. I-I don’t get it! How could you just be gone for two weeks and then be hurt a-and that noise- it’s a monitor isn’t it?”

More silence. 

“Isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He bites out. “It is.”

“Oh my god,” You want to scream, panic once again overtaking you. “Are you in a hospital, right now?”

“Yes.”

Something in you breaks. Something lodged deep in your chest, and all you can think about is seeing him. Making sure that he really is alive in a hospital bed and not some fucked-up figure of your imagination right now.

“Where?” You demand. “Where?”

“W-what?”

“I said fucking where, Bakugou.” You caught your breath, willing your voice to be solid. “Tell me. Right now.”

“I- No!”

“Oh my god, why won’t you just tell me- anything! Ever! You don’t tell me fucking anything and all I know about you is fuck-all nothing and-” Your voice rises, higher and higher and louder as you rant. “Do you even know what I’ve been doing these past two weeks? Worrying! About you! And fucking looking your name up and finding nothing because I don’t know who you are or how to reach you or where you live or even what you look like- a-all I have is your voice and your last name and that’s not even fucking helpful because all I can find is some goddamn hero, Dynamite, who isn’t you and I couldn’t- I couldn’t-”

You’re gasping for air now, nearly shattering your phone in your vice grip. You chest aches, burns, and all he’s doing is sitting on the other end of the phone. Silent. Breathing. Saying nothing like always.

“That’s me.” He finally says, quiet and subdued. 

“Excuse me?”

Bakugou coughs again. It sounds painful.

“Dynamite.” He finally whispers out. “It’s me.”

You drop your phone. Watch it slip out of your hands and onto the ground. 

Dynamite. It’s me.

Bakugou Katsuki. Scowling, blonde, angry, Bakugou Katsuki. Ash-ridden pro-hero covered in gunpowder and searing burns and surrounded by fire Bakugou Katsuki. 

He was your soulmate. The man who seemed to infect your life for the past two weeks. The man you couldn’t find was exactly the same man who was everywhere you looked no matter what you did- on TV, on the internet, in every article you read, every bit of research you ever conducted for your project- and apparently on your phone. This entire time. 

You’re angry, shaking and seething and fuming as you pick your phone back up.

“Fuck you, Bakugou,” You spit venomously, tears once again falling. “Y- you just- you disappeared, for weeks, to go be a fucking hero and didn’t even tell me? You put yourself in danger, fucking knowing- w-what if you- what if you- I wouldn’t have known! I wouldn’t have ever fucking known what happened to you and I wouldn’t ever get to know- and you’d just be- you’d just be-”

“Gone.” 

“Gone.” You repeat.

“T-this is why I didn’t wanna fuckin’ tell ya.” He wheezes. “Because it fuckin’ changes things when you say you’re a hero.”

“A-a hero?” You’re nearly yelling into the phone. “You think I’m upset over you being a fucking hero?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No!” You scream, enraged. “I’m not- I don’t. I don’t care about you being a fucking hero! I care about you, you fucking asshole! I’ve been sitting here for weeks worrying about you, and searching for you, because you fucking vanished and I didn’t know how to look for you and I couldn’t find anything and I just wanted to find you because I like you- I like you, you fucking idiot!”  

He’s silent, the only sounds are your raging breaths and the beeping of a machine.

“You like me?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You’re screeching now. “That’s what you fucking got from that? Are you fucking stupid? That’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever said to me! Are you even fucking listening to me right n-”

Bakugou laughs. He laughs, loud and unrestrained and slightly rattling, interrupting your train of thought completely. You’re clutching your phone, pressing it to your ear and seeing red.

“A-are you fucking laughing? Stop fucking laughing- this isn’t- I’m fucking mad at you! Stop laughing, you’re being fucking immature and stupid and a fucking asshole right now! Did you hear a fucking thing I sai-”

“You fuckin’ like me.” He repeats. “I like you too, idiot.”

The wind is knocked out of you- every bit of oxygen is a struggle and your heart is beating fast, faster, so very fast like it’s racing around your ribcage and ripping through the skin of your chest and everything hurts but it doesn’t at the same time and all you can think and see is Bakugou. Bakugou Katsuki.

“I like you, too.” You respond, suddenly dazed.

A pause, another rattling laugh.

“You said that already, idiot.”

Just kidding. Back to thinking and seeing red and only bleeding red.

“Actually, you know what,” Your voice is tight and overwhelmingly loud. “Fuck you! I hate you, you fucking asshole! Made me worry for fucking weeks just to sit there and make fun of me! I’m fucking mad at you- so fucking mad! You know what? I’m hanging u-”

“Don’t.” He says suddenly. “Please.”

His voice stops you in your tracks. Bakug- Katsuki sounds soft and tender and quiet and he didn’t swear once. He’s hurt and he’s probably still hurting and you decide then that you couldn’t do that to him- hang up on him. It was an empty threat. You figured it probably always would be from now on, no matter how angry he made you. 

“Y-yeah. Okay.” You start. “But only because you’re fuckin’ hurt or whatever and even I couldn’t fuckin’ do that to-”

“You sound like me.” He interrupts, and there’s something so fond in his voice that it makes you shiver. “Swearing like a fuckin’ sailor, sunshine, what the hell happened to you, huh?”

“Y-you!” You sputter, trying to recover from the way the nickname wounded you. “You fucking happened to me, you absolute prick! You never telling me anything happened to me! The last two fuckin’ weeks happened to me!” 

He just laughs again, and you think you could kill him. Are suddenly really contemplating just finishing the job off- until he coughs. Until he coughs and rattles and shakes and doesn’t stop coughing for almost an entire minute.

“You- you’re okay? Right?” You ask, voice quiet.

“Mhm.” Bakugou hums, voice deep and raspy. “Everythin’s just fuckin’ peachy.”

“No. I’m serious. Be serious. Are you okay?” 

There’s silence on his end, but you think maybe you can hear the shuffling of blankets.

“N-no.” He grits out, almost like admitting it is painful. “It’s- I’m not. I will be, though.”

“Okay.” You nod. “How long are you in the hospital for?”

“Not sure. Jus’ fuckin’ woke up.”

“And you called me,” You were yelling again. “Call a fucking nurse! Call one right now! You probably need like fucking meds or treatment or like your vitals taken or something! Hang up! Hang up right now and call a nurs-”

“No thanks.”

“Excuse me? Bakugou, are you even listening to me? You’re hurt! You need to fucking call somebody- a nurs-”

“I wanted to talk to you.” Bakugou interrupts, voice hardly there. “Wouldn’ta if I knew you were gonna yell so much, though. Who the fuck yells that much?”

You pause. Taken aback by his words, by his admission. Only for a moment though. 

“You! You fucking yell so much, you asshole! I learned it from you!” 

Bakugou coughs again, and you lower your voice. You sober up.

“I’m serious. Hang up. Get a nurse.” You suggest gently. “Call me again later, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He agrees. “Okay.”

Bakugou hangs up and you finally feel your heart begin to calm. He wastes no time, sending a text only seconds later. 

--/---

eat up, bitches!! it’s an identify reveal, near death experience AND confession scene- welcum to the sweet sweet world of my favorite tropes ~ it only goes up frum hear 

[asciendo]

Jealousy

Make it Right Series Chapter 9

Jean was the cocky bastard that walked around like he owned the place. Y/N couldn’t stand so when the time came that you were his sparring partner, you couldn’t wait to teach him a lesson.

Little did the both of you know, that sparring match would be the start of your unexpected relationship with Jean Kirschtein, that will change your life, and the rest of the Scout Regiment forever.

Chapter 1/Chapter 2/Chapter 3/Chapter 4/Chapter 5/Chapter 6/Chapter 7/Chapter 8/Chapter 10/Chapter 11/Chapter 12/Chapter 13/Chapter 14/Chapter 15Chapter 16/Chapter 17/Chapter 18/Chapter 19/Chapter 20/Chapter 21

It's been three weeks since you and Jean, somewhat "broke up". No one really noticed how you couldn't look each other in the eye, how when you were sparring partners, one of you would lose on purpose for your match to end quickly and how you never sat in the same table during meals. It wasn't out of the ordinary as from their perspective, you and Jean were never close.

What they did notice was Jean's sudden bursts of anger during training and his sudden interest in other girls again. "Can Jean just sleep with Mina already? He's been acting like even MORE of an ass the couple of weeks, he needs to get LAID." Connie sighed as you almost choked on your soup. Looking up, Mina was leaning on a wall with Jean's hovering over  Mina and looking her up and down. Your heart clenched as you could imagine the sweet nothings he was telling her.

"Or Krista, saw him flirting with her too yesterday." Sasha said as she devoured her soup. You held your spoon tighter to control your anger and Marco looked at you nervously.

Marco was the only person who had an idea about you and Jean and noticed Jean's sudden change of demeanor.

"Has he tried with you too, Y/N?" Connie looked lazily in your direction. "W-what?" Your eyes widened and you froze.

"Jean. Has he tried hitting on you?"

"Uhm...No." You stammered and continued with your meal. "That's strange. He's basically flirting with anything that moves right now but still being a complete ass." Sasha grumbled.

"Yeah...he was always a flirt but, it stopped for a while. I wonder what got into him." Connie hummed. "Maybe you guys just didn't notice." Marco said in an attempt to defend Jean.

"Nah, he was actually pretty nice for a while."

"I'm gonna head back to the dorms, I'm really tired." You announced and stood up. The rest waved at you nonchalantly while Marco had a concerned look on your face.

And of course, you had to pass by Jean flirting with Mina on the way out. You tried to walk by them as fast as you could but you heard your name being called.

You turned and Mina was smiling at you brightly, while Jean was looking down. "Hey! You were amazing at ODM gear training today!" Mina beamed and you fought the urge to slap her right then and there. "Thanks." You smiled and turned to leave. "You should teach me a few moves!" She added and you flinched. Mina was staring at you in awe while Jean was looking away from you and Mina.

You smiled for the last time and made your way out the door.

The next day at dinner, you rolled your eyes as Jean sat with Connie and Sasha, who you usually sat with. Scanning the room, you saw Bertholdt sitting alone. You knew Reiner would join him but, Bertholdt always intrigued you and decided to sit with him.

He was shocked as you sat in front of him, but smiled lightly. You began to talk about training that eventually evolved to sharing about your childhood. It felt good to share parts of your life with someone other than Jean, and Bertholdt was a good listener. Reiner joined your table and made a few passes at you as usual but Bertholdt scolded him which you really appreciated.

You spent the night talking about your plans after training and were relieved when they shared your desire to join the Scouts as well. It was a nice dinner away from Jean and the others and you didn't have to hear his name once in conversation.

"Earth to Jean?! Did you not hear what I said?!" Connie was waving his hands in front of Jean's face. Jean was enjoying his meal like usual with Marco and the others. He was proud of how he performed today, he was able to take down Eren in Combat training which made him very proud and satisfied with himself.

It wasn't until he looked up and spotted you laughing with Bertholdt in the table in front of him. He saw you throw your head back laughing and the sound of your laughter shot a pang through his chest. What could Bertholdt have said that made you laugh like that? Jean thought only he could do that, you in between his legs entangled with one another spread out on your bed. He couldn't stop staring at the both of you wondering what on earth could you be talking about. Bertholdt was always quiet and only stuck to Reiner, what could he be saying to get your attention? Why were you sitting with him in the first place? These questions were running through Jean's mind as he glared daggers at you and Bertholdt.

"Jean...are you okay?" Marco asked. Jean finally snapped back into reality with a scowl in his face. "I'm fucking out of here." He grumbled and left. "Seriously...What IS his problem?" Sasha rolled her eyes.

The entire week you've been sitting with Bertholdt and Reiner. You formed a pretty good friendship with them, especially Bertholdt. There were nights when you talked by the river about anything and everything and he you learned about his crush on Annie. You urged him to tell her but by the redness of his cheeks you could tell he was too nervous. You also told him about Jean which surprised you. You haven't even told Sasha who was your best friend, but you felt like you could trust Bertholdt and he wouldn't judge you.

"So that's why he's been acting like even more of an asshole lately?" Bertholdt chuckled and nudged you. "No, it was just a distraction, nothing more."

"I don't think so...he was different now that I think of it." Bertholdt then told you how Jean was the time you were fooling around. How his temper disappeared, except with Eren, he'd joke around more and how he was focused on being a good leader.

"It seemed like he was in a good place...now he's just..."

"An asshole." You finished and Bertholdt laughed as well. "I don't know what's going to happen with you guys, but you shouldn't feel guilty about joining the scouts." You smiled and felt a sense of comfort at Bertholdt's words.

The next day, you were in charge for carrying the food supplies to the kitchen. The sack of carrots that arrived looked like it was about to burst and you groaned at the thought of them falling.

You began to carry them and all seemed well, till you nearly reached the kitchen and the sack tore open and the carrots spilled below you. "Shit." You groaned and began to pick them up. Suddenly, another pair of hands were next to yours helping you. Looking up, you were met with familiar eyes. Jean.

"Th-thanks." You stammered and he smiled lightly. You were silent for a while and there was an awkward pause. "So how's your bed doing without me?" You stopped at his cheeky comment and looked at him. Jean had his cocky grin plastered on his face and your heart stopped. At that moment, it felt like everything was back to normal. "Pretty good, I keep myself entertained." You winked and Jean's breath hitched.

"Uh-uhm so how are you doing?" the playful look on Jean's face suddenly disappeared and he was looking at you with longing that you wanted to grab him right then and there.

"I'm...doing okay?" You stood up and he did as well. For a second he seemed like he wanted to say something more. He was holding all the carrots in his arms and you chuckled at the sight of him. "I can help you." You laughed and he did too. "Nah, it's fine, I got it." he looked at you again and there was this sense of familiarity that tugged on your heart strings.

"Hey...after we bring this to the kitchen do you wanna—" Jean began but was interrupted by Connie.

"Y/N! Eren told me you were joining the scouts." Connie began and you froze. You looked at Jean and his jaw was clenched. "Y-yeah." You looked down as Connie smiled. "Hmm, good luck, have fun with Jaeger." Connie teased and walked away. Jean was trying to face away from you but his face scrunched up in frustration. "I'll take care of these." He said through gritted teeth and walked away from you.

The next day at the dining hall, Berhtoldt could tell something was up at you. You were eating slowly and barely talking. When Reiner left, he asked if you wanted to talk by the lake again and you nodded.

As you and Bertholdt left the dining hall, you stopped as Jean was once again, flirting with Mina. Bertholdt glanced at you and saw your reaction. He quickly tugged on your shoulder to switch places with him so you wouldn't have to walk near Mina and Jean.

You began to walk down the steps with Bertholdt trying your best to avoid Jean.

Jean needed a distraction. His mind kept turning back to you and he was trying to forget what he felt about you. The whole time he was fooling around you, he kept trying to keep his feelings and emotions in check. He noticed he was falling for you. The way your eyebrows would kink together when you were in deep thought, how your laughter instantly brought a smile to his face, how you made him feel. He felt comfortable yet excited with you. Being with you he felt like an adventure everyday yet home at the same time.

When he heard you were joining the Scouts, it broke him. Why would she do this? Does she want to die? Fucking Jaeger! Where the thoughts that plagued Jean's thoughts ever since she told him. He hated the fact that she thought he was a coward. He didn't care when Eren said it, but coming from Y/N...

What hurt him the most was it seemed like you were choosing death over a life with him.

Jean's way of distracting himself from thinking about you was flirting with other girls. Before you, he had fun just hitting on girls and he knew they were interested him too. Which is what he was doing now, with Mina outside the dining hall. She was cute, friendly, but the conversation seemed to be dull. He didn't feel a connection with her but, it kept his mind off of you for a while.

Jean was pretending to laugh at something Mina said when he heard the door open from the entrance of the dining hall. He glanced at who it was then took a double take in shock. You were standing outside with Bertholdt and he grabbed your arm. Jean's face turned red in anger as he you and Berhtoldt disappeared into the woods. Whatever Mina was saying became white noise as his gaze followed you and Berholdt. He didn't even say bye to Mina as he found himself following the both of you.

He couldn't find you as it was dark in the woods and he yelled in frustration.

Back in the boys' dorm, Jean was slumped on the couch in the shared living space. When Shadis announced it was time for lights out, Jean grunted and stood up. Just as he did, he saw Bertholdt enter the room and his fists clenched.

Jean began to walk towards him and bumped him with his shoulder which caused Bertholdt to fall on the floor.

"JEAN!" Reiner growled and quickly ran to help Bertholdt. "J-jean what's wrong?" Marco asked nervously and placed a hand on his shoulder while Jean was glaring at Bertholdt on the floor. Jean shrugged off Marco's hand and went straight to his room leaving everyone stunned.

[scarlet-star-witch]

Fade Into You - Part 19 (Mandalorian/OC)

Summary: Din has spent a year grieving the love of his life. While he thinks he has lost her forever, she lingers in the darkness, her mind twisted and manipulated, with no memory of him or the love they shared. What will it take for Din to help her remember?

Warnings: SMUT (they just reunited, can you blame me?) and a whole bunch of fluff

First Part     Previous Part      Next Part

She didn’t leave his arms for the rest of the night. Din wouldn’t let her go even five feet from his grasp. Even when they landed on Nevarro, and Cara had announced their arrival, she could tell by the look on Iella’s face and the rigidity of Din’s body that they needed to be left alone.

Their solace was well needed. 

They lay tangled in their cramped bunk, Iella’s legs over his, his arm a comforting weight over her waist. His head lay on the pillow next to hers, his eyes taking in every inch of her as she did the same.

Her fingers gently traced every inch of his features, down the length of his crooked nose that she loved, the wrinkles around his eyes and the crease of his smile. Her eyes greedily drank in the sight before her as if she was still trying to come to terms that this was real.

Din was thankful the child was still tired. Once he’d woken from his deep sleep after using his powers, he refused to let Iella out of his sight, but he now lay sleeping peacefully on her chest, allowing him to finally take off his helmet and look at his wife without any hindrances.

“What was your mother’s name?” He asked suddenly, breaking the peaceful silence that surrounded them. 

“Nivaya.” Iella answered without hesitation. 

“How many siblings did you have?”

“Two brothers, both older.” 

“What’s your middle name.”

“Sakari. It means sweet in my native language.” She answered swiftly. “How many more questions do I have to answer?” She asked through a stifled yawn. 

Getting stabbed and healed within the span of one afternoon really takes it out of a person. And the throbbing in her head, in her now healed brain, hadn’t subsided just yet. She’d been seconds away from sleeping for the last hour, but she refused to let her eyes close, needing to see her husband, to take in his features, just a while longer.

But the need for sleep was quickly becoming too great to ignore any longer.

“Enough until I know that you’re really back.” Din answered, his eyes looking into hers intently.

She could see his fear, his intense need to keep her at his side. She knew he was suffering, that the day was laying heavily on him, and that he needed resolution. The only way she could give it to him was to just simply exist.

Just breathing was a relief to him.

“Din, I know you’re freaking out, I know this is a lot for you to go through, but you have to trust me. I’m ok. 

“I can’t take any chances.”

“I know, but I’m so tired, I just wanna sleep.” 

Din hesitated, his eyes watching her intently. He could see how exhausted she was and he felt guilty that he’d been keeping her awake, but after what they’d been through, after how terrified he’d been, he found it hard to let himself slip away into unconsciousness. 

He kept telling himself, just one more minute, until they had been awake for hours, drinking each other in for almost the entire night. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered and Iella frowned, leaning in to place a soft kiss to his lips, which he eagerly responded to. 

“Don’t apologize.” She mumbled against his lips. “It’s not like I was ready to stop seeing your beautiful face any time soon.” 

Din blushed slightly. He hadn’t heard one of those flirty comments from her in what felt like forever. He’d been living with a shell of the person she had been, the person he had fallen so deeply in love with, and his heart felt like it was about to burst knowing he finally had her back.

“Get some sleep. We’ll take as many days off as we want to, go anywhere we want to.” 

“I don’t think Karga would be thrilled.”

Iella just scoffed. “I think we’ve more than earned a vacation.” 

“What about the kid?”

Iella paused, looking down at the sleeping creature snuggled into her peacefully. An involuntary smile grew at the adorable sight of him, though it stiffened when she realized they would soon have to work on finding his true home. 

“Vacation first, then work.” She answered the difficult question simply. 

Din nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly, and tightened his grip on her waist, nuzzling in closer in the crook of her neck, his eyes blissfully falling closed. 

“If you wake up first, don’t leave. Wake me before you do.” He whispered and Iella’s heart felt like cracking at the vulnerability she heard in his voice. 

“I promise.” She spoke softly, hoping he wouldn’t hear in her voice just how close to tears his words brought her. 

Knowing how damaged her husband felt from this, how terrified he was to even let her out of his sight now, it made her want to kill Voros all over again. 

The image flashed in her mind again, her master bleeding and panicked as the life drained from him. 

She swallowed thickly and began brushing her hands through Din’s curly hair, as if to ground herself. 

No more thinking about him, she told herself, the mantra repeating in her head as her eyes closed and she easily drifted off to sleep in her husband’s arms, feeling more content than she had in a long time.

~~~

Iella stirred awake, whining softly as she was broken from her sleep by the feel of soft kisses on her neck. Her eyes opened to nothing but darkness and she immediately began to panic as she no longer felt the weight of the child on her chest. 

“Din?”

“Right here.” His voice answered in her ear as he continued to plant soft kisses on her skin and she sighed in relief. 

“Where’s the kid?” 

“In his cradle.”

“Why? I wanted-” Her voice cut off as she felt the blankets being pulled from her, Din’s eager hands crawling up her thighs to the waistband of the sleeping shorts she wore.

He hesitated, his fingers gently teasing the exposed skin at her hips.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have woken you… I-I just…” He paused, taking a moment to collect himself of the emotion that threatened to choke him. “I need you. I need to feel you.” 

Iella’s heart began to race, the pure want dripping from his voice causing the hairs on her body to stand upright in eager anticipation. She leaned upwards, reaching out in the darkness for him. Her hands wound around his shoulders and she pulled him down so his body lay over hers, his weight a comforting reminder of what she’d missed for so long.

“Please.” She breathed out and she felt Din tremble against her, the sound of her hushed voice making him weak in the knees. 

His lips crashed to hers barely a second later. 

They moaned against each other as they kissed slowly. Iella expected it to be fiery and frantic, a coupling that was desperate and quick, portraying the overwhelming emotions they were both feeling, but it wasn’t.

Din was careful with her, pouring every ounce of relief and happiness and love into the kiss. He took his time, showering her with affection. He made his way over every inch of her body, revelling in the small gasps, light whimpers, and cries of desperation for more he pulled from her.

He slowly rid her of the remaining clothes she wore, his breathing becoming heavy as he felt her wet heat against him. 

He couldn’t wait any longer. 

Without any warning, he threw her legs up over his shoulders, making her gasp in surprise, which soon turned into a long, loud moan as his mouth began to devour her. 

Iella’s back arched as his tongue worked its way through her folds, her hand flying down to grip at his hair, chasing just the little bit of stability she could possibly have in this moment. 

He moaned against her, the taste of her driving him wild. He had missed this so much and he would cherish every single moment. 

Every one of her moans, every twitch of her legs, every tug on his hair, he would remember forever and never take for granted again. 

Her hips slanted upwards, her eyes squeezing shut as he moved his hot tongue over her wet slit. 

“Din!” She panted, her head falling back to her shoulders as pleasurable tingles spread throughout her body. Goosebumps arose where he held onto her thighs tightly, his fingers splayed against her skin in an attempt to keep her still.

But her need for him was too great to keep her grounded. 

She writhed underneath him, a litany of moaned curses and whimpered pleas escaping her parted lips. 

A sharp tug on his hair made him groan against her and he eagerly pushed two fingers inside her, desperate to get her over the edge. 

“Fuck, I missed you.” He groaned against her and she bit hard on her bottom lip to hold back the whimper his words caused her. 

Hearing the muffled noise, he added another finger inside her, desperate to get her loud, to hear exactly what he was doing to her. He wouldn’t stand for any stifled noises of pleasure.

Her mouth dropped open, a loud moan, bordering on a scream, escaping her without any warning as he worked her body like an expert musician with their instrument. 

The sound of her voice laced with ecstasy had him just about ready to explode. He doubled his movements, his eyes closing in bliss at the taste of her and the way she spoke his name over and over like a prayer. 

“Din, please, please.” She moaned, her body going rigid as he curled his fingers inside her at the same moment his tongue met her bundle of nerves. 

It only took a few more seconds before Iella was arching against him, her hips bucking upwards as she cried his name loudly. He moaned against her, only heightening her release that seemed to go on for ages. 

Her chest was heaving with each heavy panting breath that left her lips. Her head was swimming in a dazed pleasure and before she could even come down from her high, Din was hovering over her, his lips crashing to hers frantically.

“I love you so much, my beautiful Riduur. Never letting you go, never losing you again, Cyare.” Din babbled against her lips, his voice strained. 

She felt wetness against her cheeks, the knowledge of his tears bringing her own to her eyes. She cradled his face in her hands, kissing him gently, as if it could heal every negative thought in his brain.

“I love you, Din, more than anything in this galaxy.” She whispered to him reverently. “Nothing is ever going to take me away. I’m never leaving your side ever again.” She promised him and she hoped to every god that ever existed that her words would be true.

Her words had a shaking breath escaping him and before he could break down fully, he kissed her again as he slowly slid his throbbing length inside her. 

They both tensed and moaned softly, holding onto each other tightly as he settled within her. 

He moved slowly, taking his time and savouring every hitched breath and pull of her hands on his skin it earned him. His breathing became ragged, her name a groaned prayer in the quiet room. 

Iella blinked rapidly in a desperate attempt to stop her tears from falling, but it was no use. She held onto her husband like a lifeline, like he was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. She never wanted to let go, she knew she would feel lost the second she did.

Her love for him, which had returned to her so overwhelmingly, and being back in his arms, making love to him again, made her break.

A soft sob escaped her, one she couldn’t hold back and the second Din heard it he was raising his head from where he had been placing greedy kisses against her neck and he leaned his forehead against hers, looking down at her worriedly. 

His thrusts stopped and he gently wiped her tears. 

“El?”

“Don’t stop.” She pleaded, her hands holding tightly to his hips, rolling her own against his to goad him into moving again. 

A choked moan escaped him, his eyes quickly squeezing shut as he tried hard to not lose it then and there. He kissed her firmly as he began to slide in and out of her slowly once again. 

They stayed there, intertwined, their foreheads rested against each other, their breaths intermingling as each moan echoed the others. He reached down, hiking her thigh upwards higher on his hip, allowing him to move even deeper inside her, causing him to grunt and move just the slightest pace faster.

Iella moaned loudly, her nails digging into skin at the toe curling feeling.

Din huffed out a heavy breath, his jaw clenching as he felt his end nearing all too soon. He was too worked up, too desperate for her that he couldn't hold back any longer.

“Iella,” He warned, his voice stiff as his fingers dug into her thigh tightly. The briefest of fears of bruising her flashed through his mind, but before he could even think of easing up, her walls tightened around him, turning his mind to mush and erasing any trace of worry. “Fuck!” He yelled out, his thrusts becoming jarring as he approached the edge.

Iella’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and with just a few powerful thrusts later, she reached ecstasy again. A scream of his name fell from her lips as she trembled against him.

His own echoing scream of her name followed just seconds later as he came hard inside her.

He practically collapsed against her, but she didn’t mind. He was a comforting weight against her. Their heavy breaths were soon the only thing heard in the dark room as aftershocks flowed through them like rolling clouds. 

She raked her hands up and down the length of his back that was still shaking slightly. 

As their racing hearts slowed, their breathing calming, their bodies becoming limp with pleasured exhaustion, they didn’t move from each other’s arms. The press of his lips lazily moving across her shoulder made her smile lightly and she hugged him against her tighter. 

They were perfectly content, something the both of them had needed to feel desperately.

~~~

The next morning Iella woke with a smile on her face and a pleasurable ache between her thighs from the night before.

Din was draped over her like a blanket, his hair tickling her nose, making her face crease happily. She looked down at him, biting her lip to stifle a laugh at how tightly he clung to her, even in his sleep. 

“Hey, baby, wake up.” She called out softly, her hands toussling his messy hair. 

He moaned tiredly, stirring slightly before waking with a displeased groan. He tightened his grip on her, nuzzling in closer to her.

“Don’t wanna get up.” He moaned and she laughed lightly at the childish whine to his voice.

The sound of her laugh had his own smile growing and he craned his neck to look up at her. Those beautiful eyes of hers felt like a gift to him. The relief that shot through him was so intense he could’ve sworn it stopped his heart. 

“We should stay like this for the rest of the day.”

“And who would look after the kid?”

“He has powers. He’s more than qualified to look after himself.” He shrugged, earning him a playful shove from her. Din huffed out a laugh and snuggled in closer to her, his eyes falling closed once again. “Just give me a few more minutes.” 

Iella was left unable to refuse. Being back in arms felt too good to give up just yet. 

The couple stay wrapped up in each other, indulging in a closeness that had been lost for so long. They were both content, more content that they had been in over a year, and were just moments away from falling back to sleep, when the muffled whine of the child stirred them out of their daze.

Din cursed lightly under his breath and began to slowly heave himself out of bed and away from his wife with a groan. 

“I’ll be right there, kid.” Din called out as he began to put his armour on, the helmet being the last piece he put on. 

Iella watched with a faraway look in her eye. She always admired how he looked in his suit. It portrayed a controlled figure, one she loved to be dominated by. It stirred something within her, even years later. 

The shining new beskar that adorned his body only heightened her admiration and attraction, one her manipulated self couldn’t appreciate fully. She didn’t think the suit could get any better, but she’d obviously been wrong.

“You look good in the new suit.” 

Din looked back at her and smirked, her compliment only sending him further into irresponsibility. He was ready to take off every inch of armour he’d just put on and keep themselves locked away from reality until the end of time.

“You better get out there before he tears the ship apart.” She spoke again, knowing exactly where his mind had wandered to and reminding him of what he had gotten out of bed to do. 

The mischievous smile on her face made his stomach flip pleasurably. She was her again. She was the teasing yet shy woman he loved and it continued to drive him crazy in the best way possible. He shook his head and opened the door of the bunk. 

I’ve missed that, he thought to himself fondly.

Iella slowly sat up, stretching out her aching muscles. She could hear Din tend to the child and the happy coos he received in greeting. Her smile grew, butterflies erupting at the noise. The feeling of completeness she felt being with both of them wasn’t something she expected to feel so greatly.

It always sent a thrill inside her, watching him with the child, but now, with her mind fully restored, her memories of and feelings for Din fully restored, it sent her into a tizzy. She remembered just how much she loved this man and it was the greatest feeling in the galaxy.

It still felt surreal, having all these memories back, finally having a past, a personality, a sense of self. 

She slowly crept out of bed, making her way to the fresher, the smile still on her face as she heard Din and the child get breakfast started. 

As she stepped into the fresher, not bothering to close the door behind her, her eyes met her reflection in the small mirror in front of her. She pursed her lips at the unkempt state she was in and grabbed a brush, working to undo the mess of tangles Din had caused the night before. 

As she pulled her hair back over her shoulder, a glaring red mark on her neck caught her attention.

But it wasn’t a mark left by her husband in passion.

No, it was the mark of torture, where her tracking device had been. The one she had Din cut out her first day back on the Crest, when she’d been… someone else. 

Her wistful smile fell, a blank expression overtaking her once bright features. She looked deeply at her reflection, at her eyes, not recognizing the haunted ones that stared back at her. 

Who are you?

No one.

Who do you belong to?

You, Master.

What is your job?

To kill. 

The words echoed in her head on a loop. Memories swirled in her mind so quickly it left her dizzy. Each one filled with blood and torture and violence, making her wince. Her chest began to feel heavy and tight with despair.

Letting out a shuddering breath, she turned the tap on, splashing cold water on her face, hoping it could lessen the anxiety she suddenly felt. 

Like a siren calling to her, she looked up again, meeting her own haunted gaze. It was like she couldn’t resist meeting her trauma, like she felt she needed to face it, like there was no other option but to face it.

Screams of pain and terror echoed in her mind, the screams of her victims, innocent people whose light she snuffed out mercilessly, without remorse. 

Now, the remorse was catching up to her and hitting her full force, it felt like it would suffocate her.

“Iella.” Din’s stern voice called out from beside her, making her jump in her spot, her gaze snapping to his. “I was calling you.” He said, slowly reaching out to turn off the tap she’d left running.

“Sorry, I was… zoning out.” She breathed out, plastering on a small smile in the guise of her stability that clearly was severely damaged. But she wasn’t ready to tell him that just yet and ruin this loving reunion they were both basking in.

“Zoning out? Do you think the child did something when he healed-”

“No, no, not like that. I was just lost in thought. You know how I get. My head’s always in the clouds.” She assured him, patting his arm as she passed him to leave the fresher that was suddenly feeling too small and cramped for her to breathe.

Din knew his wife was a dreamer, that she was usually lost in daydreams, but this was different. He had a feeling those clouds her head was in were dark and thunderous, shrouded with horrible memories. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” He said slowly, slightly feeling out of his element as to how to approach the incredibly traumatic events she had faced. He didn’t exactly know what to do to help her, but dammit, he would try his absolute best.

“I know. But there’s nothing to talk about.”

Her side stepping of the situation made him roll his eyes and he walked after her, unable to let this be the end of the conversation.

“El, you were just brought back to life after the man that tortured you and wiped your mind for a year tried to kill you. No one would be ok after that.” He reached for her hand, making her stop in her tracks. The way she refused to meet his eyes was very telling and he could tell just what her anxious mind was telling her. 

“You don’t have to pretend to be strong. You’re allowed to have a moment of weakness.”

“I don’t need one. I just need you.” 

Din’s expression softened slightly. He didn’t want her to breeze through her trauma, to ignore it and let it fester, but he couldn’t deny that hearing her want him healed his aching heart. After so long of practically begging for her affection with her twisted self, it felt so good to hear her need him again.

To feel wanted by her again was all he wanted and it was such a relief to hear it again.

“Din, I swear to you, I’m ok. I’ll tell you when I’m not.” She told him genuinely, holding his hands tightly. 

He nodded, trusting that she would confide in him when she needed to and knowing he shouldn’t push her now. 

“So, where are we headed?” She asked, changing the subject. The promise of a vacation was enticing, something she desperately needed to take her mind off things that threatened to break her. 

“Where do you want to go?” 

“I don’t care. As long as I get a king sized bed to stretch out on.” 

Din laughed, he certainly couldn’t blame her for that. Their cramped bunk was something they had talked about replacing for years, but they had never gotten around to it. 

“I was thinking Naboo. I know you love the waterfalls there.”

Iella smiled widely and nodded. “Yeah. Naboo sounds perfect.” 

Din tightened his grip on her hands and leaned down, pressing his armoured forehead against hers, unable to resist the slightest contact.

He had just gotten her back and he would be damned if he didn’t indulge. 

“I’ll set the course.” He whispered, taking a few extra seconds to linger in her embrace before he finally forced his feet to move and he made his way up to the cockpit. 

It was only a minute later, when the Crest had taken off and was in hyperspace, that he jumped back down into the hull, refusing to be away from her, if only for a few minutes.

He didn’t care if he looked clingy. He was taking every opportunity to be with her he could get. It was the least he could get after what he’d been through the past year.

As Iella held the child in her arms, she leaned back against his sturdy frame behind her. She certainly wasn’t complaining about his closeness. 

She was as happy as him to have it again.

~~

Landing on Naboo was easier than they expected. Din had booked a small cottage, away from the city center, in the middle of nowhere. Perfect for them to lay low in. 

Iella was beaming as he led her inside. It was the sight of their own room, with their own full sized bed, that had her practically bouncing up and down in her shoes that made him unable to stifle his smile.

“You like it?”

“I love it.” She breathed out happily. “This is amazing. It reminds me…” She trailed off, biting her lip in hesitation.

“What?” He asked, a worried frown suddenly overtaking his features at her suddenly serious tone. 

“This cottage… it reminds me of Scarif, of where we stayed on our honeymoon.”

Din’s breath caught in his throat at her words. Just days ago she had forgotten about Scarif, about where they had gotten married, and now… she had memories of things he didn’t even need to remind her of.

It was almost too much to handle. 

Iella’s soft smile, one of happiness and pride for herself, for remembering, fell quickly as Din left the room suddenly. It was only when his heavy footsteps were heard just seconds later and he stormed into the room, throwing his helmet off his head, the child no longer in his arms, that she realized what he had been doing.

“If we keep putting the kid to bed at all hours, we’ll start becoming bad parents.”

“He’ll get over it.” 

Iella felt a shiver race down her spine at the heated tone of his voice and the look of hunger in his eyes. He was on her a second later, taking a few long strides before he was in front of her, his hands cradling her cheeks as he kissed her deeply. 

She lost all sense of the world as he kissed her hungrily and they fell onto the bed in a throw of fiery passion.

“I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe you’re here with me again.” Din babbled. He suddenly pulled away, taking in a deep breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried hard to ground himself, to not burst into tears with the emotion that flooded him so overwhelmingly.

“I’m right here.” She whispered, her arms winding around him, holding him closely. “I’m not going anywhere, not again.”

He crashed his lips to hers before he could burst into tears. As he kissed her deeply and stripped her of her clothes, he realized he hadn’t felt so right, so at home, since he’d lost her over a year ago.

As he touched her, as he made love to her, everything suddenly seemed right in the galaxy.

Hours later, they lay curled together on the large bed, barely letting even an inch between them. They had always been a couple that relied on physical touch, but now they were barely able to let each other go now.

Her head was perched on his bare chest, her fingers tracing mindless patterns on his skin. She felt a strange puckering on his side that she wasn’t familiar with and her brows furrowed. She raised her head, looking down intently at the scar on his ribs as her fingers brushed it gently.

“This is new.” 

Din looked down, following her gaze. “Oh yeah, that was a few months back. Some drunk Rodian got rowdy when I tried to handcuff him.”

“Hmm.” Was all she said.

A strange feeling overtook her at his explanation. It made her uncomfortable to know there was this entire year apart where she knew nothing about what he’d been through. They had been attached at the hip for so long, leaning on each other during jobs, being partners and best friends. It felt strange that there was now so much she didn’t know, so much she wasn’t there for.

“I’m fine. It was just a graze.” He told her, knowing from her silence where her mind had drifted to.

“That’s more than a graze, Din.”

“You know I’ve never been good with that medical shit.” He joked, making her smile and hug his side tighter.

Her eyes fell closed again as his hand moved to caress up and down the length of the back. A loud sigh left her lips as pure relaxation washed over her at his touch. 

“We don’t have any food.” Iella spoke up, her sleepy voice breaking the calm silence that coated the room. 

“I can go out and pick some things up.” He offered, watching with a small smile at the relaxation on her face, relaxation that he was causing her. 

Suddenly, a loud whine from the other room broke them of their loving daze. Iella sat up, moving to place her clothes back on to tend to the child, causing Din to frown as the heat from her body left his.

“You want me to leave him here?”

“No, you should take him with you. Let him get some fresh air. I’m sure he’s gonna be sick of us holeing him up in here.” She answered.

“If he knew how much fun we were having holed up in here, he wouldn’t complain.” Din muttered, only slightly sarcastically.

“Don’t you dare corrupt that sweet, innocent child.” Iella warned, making him laugh.

Iella bit her lip at the sound, one she would never tire of hearing. She hadn’t realized she’d drifted off into space again, though this time her happy smile gave away what she was certainly not thinking about, unlike last time.

“What?” Din’s voice made her focus again and promptly blush when she noticed his gaze on her and that she’d been caught staring dreamily at him. 

“Nothing, I just… missed you, a lot.” 

Din’s face softened and butterflies erupted within every inch of his body. He leaned forward and kissed her softly, not even having words capable enough to describe to her how much he missed her, how much he loved her. 

Suddenly, the door flew open and, thanks to his quick reflexes, Din practically threw himself from Iella and tossed the blanket over his head. Iella laughed loudly at the sight of the child standing in the doorway, his little hand raised, his eyes closed in concentration as he used his powers to open their door.

“Hey, buddy. What do you think you’re doing?” She stood and, as his grabby hands signalled, picked him up into her arms. “I’m sorry we’ve been ignoring you.” She told him and the way he nuzzled into the crook of her neck was enough to let her know he wasn’t mad.

“Can you hand me my helmet?” Din’s muffled voice from under the blanket called out. 

Smiling at the ridiculousness of the situation, she grabbed her husband’s helmet and held it out to him. His arm shot out and grabbed it, his form finally revealing itself once his face was covered.

“He’s part of our clan. Doesn’t that technically mean he can see your face?” Iella asked him, knowing to tread lightly when it came to questions of his creed which he adhered to very strictly. 

“It’s different.” Was all as he said as he stood to place the rest of his armour on. 

She nodded wordlessly, knowing this wasn’t a conversation to have now. 

“Now, you better be good for your daddy.” Iella spoke to the child as she rocked him in her arms. “No causing trouble and no stealing sweets. He does that, watch for those hands, he’s sneaky.” She told Din who nodded with a slight chuckle. 

“Got it.” 

Once he was fully armoured with his weapons strapped to him, he took the child from Iella’s arms.

“You sure you’ll be ok here by yourself?” He asked, a small, selfish part of him wishing she would cave and come with them, but he knew it was safer for her to stay here. 

“I’ll be fine.” She assured him, gently brushing a knuckle over the child’s head whose eyes closed in contentment. She smiled softly and moved to caress the bottom of Din’s helmet. “You make sure you’re careful. We don’t need rebels on our ass.” 

He nodded and leaned down, pressing the forehead of his helmet against hers as his hand covered hers. 

“I’ll be quick.” He promised, squeezing her hand and moved towards the front door, sparing a look back at her before leaving. 

Iella let out a long exhale as the door shut behind him and she was alone. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, her fingertips tapping against her skin as her eyes roamed the empty room she stood in, looking for something to occupy her time. 

She sat herself on the bed, smiling softly at the fluffy pillows rested beneath her, something she considered to be one of the greatest luxuries. She grabbed a book she’d brought with her, one she’d found at the back of a shelf on the Razor Crest.

The book occupied her for a little while, allowing her just a little bit of reprieve from the real world. But it didn’t take long for her mind to begin to wander. She soon found herself rereading the same sentence over and over, the words on the page never registering. 

She let the book fall from her hands and she looked around the empty room once again, her nerves beginning to rise.

The silence that greeted her made her stomach turn.

She thought some solitude would do her well, that it would calm her nerves, but it was having the opposite effect. The silence soon turned to screams that echoed in her mind.

They were her own, hers that sounded while her mind was wiped. They were others, her victims that pleaded for their lives. 

They intermingled into a symphony of torture, one that threatened to break her completely. 

Without much thought, she raced out of the cottage, stumbling on her feet as she moved and slammed the door closed behind her. 

She took in a ragged deep breath, letting her eyes fall closed as she let the cool breeze wash over her. 

Images flashed in her mind, images of bloodshed and carnage that she had caused. Placing her hands over her face, she breathed deeply, forcing herself to calm down, to rid herself of the horrifying memories that plagued her. She could feel a haze coming over her, a familiar numbness taking over. A breath got choked in her throat.

That assassin was still in her, fuck, she was her. 

Iella stumbled over to the hillside and sat herself down in the grass, her legs dangling over the edge and her hands taking fistfuls of the earth below her, trying her hardest to ground herself, to not let that numbness rule her.

~~~

His mind was on her as he made his way back from the market. To be away from her on a foreign planet, even for just an hour, had him on edge. 

He finally had her back in his life, they had a second chance - well, a third chance he presumed - and he wasn’t going to take that for granted. He knew she needed her space, but it was killing him to think of all the horrible things that could go wrong in his absence.

Voros was dead, but the Empire was alive. They were still at risk and he wouldn’t rest until they were all dead and buried.

As he walked along the beach as he approached their little cottage on the hillside, he looked upwards, noticing her form sitting on the hill’s edge. He smiled softly at the sight of her. The way her long hair flowed in the wind was mesmerizing. 

Everything about the sight of her was mesmerizing. 

The child cooed at the sight of her, his face lighting up in anticipation of playing with her. 

Din rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’ll see your favourite person soon. Don’t need to rub it in.” He mumbled playfully. 

He was looking down at the child with a smirk, when his content face suddenly turned into one of fear as a loud cry of worry left him. Din’s head snapped upwards, looking for what had suddenly spooked him. 

His heart dropped, a feeling of terror as heavy as lead settling in his stomach as he heard the splash of water and saw the hill’s edge suddenly void of Iella’s figure. 

She had jumped into the water.

He screamed her name and sprinted as fast as he possibly could. As he made his way to the water’s edge, he hastily dropped the bag of food he was holding and snatched the satchel off his shoulder that held the child, placing it down in the sand.

“Stay there!” He yelled back to the child firmly as he raced forward into the water. He moved as quickly as the crashing waves would allow, eventually leading him to dive under the water, swimming as fast as he could to reach her.

His heart was racing, his body tense with terror that was beginning to feel all too familiar for his liking. 

With a slew of curses racing through his mind as his heavy armour slowed his movements, he eventually found her, her still form floating in the clear water. His heart jumped and he wrapped his arms around her, not noticing how she suddenly began to struggle, trying to push him off her as he hauled her to the surface.

Iella sputtered, coughing and heaving for breath as she pushed herself out of the grip she hadn’t realized was her husband’s.

She turned, ready to strike, but immediately deflated when she noticed the visor staring back at her.

“Din?” She asked breathlessly, her face creasing in confusion at the sight of him and why he was pulling her out of the water like a lifeguard. 

“What the fuck was that?!” He screamed, his grip on her waist tight, like he still felt he needed to keep her afloat. 

“What? What the hell are you doing?” 

“Me?! You jumped off the fucking cliff!” 

“Din, it’s ok. It wasn’t that far. It’s not like we’ve never done this before.” She argued back. There had been a time, when they were young and reckless (and a little drunk), that they’d gone cliff jumping in the middle of the night. 

She didn’t think this was much different.

Din obviously didn’t agree. He didn’t even have time to be relieved by the knowledge that she’d blatantly brought up a distant memory, something that, in any other circumstance, would’ve elated him. 

He could only feel the fear that was still buzzing within him at what he’d first thought. A loud, ragged gasp left his lips, one that sounded like he was struggling to breathe.

“You… you can’t just… fuck, El. You scared the shit out of me.” He spoke, his voice shaking.

Iella opened her mouth, ready to argue back, but no words came out. She realized what it looked like, what was running through Din’s mind. And the fear in his voice made guilt fester within her so deeply, it left her chest aching.

“I'm sorry. I didn’t mean for it to look…  like that.” She explained. She reached out, winding her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist so there was no space left in between them. “Din, I’m so sorry.” 

He held her tighter, his hands bunching the wet shirt against her back into fists, like he was trying to get even closer to her. 

“Why’d you do it?” He asked. He remembered that time on Corellia when they’d jumped into the water like a couple of energetic kids. He remembered she’d been terrified to jump. 

A change so simple wouldn’t have normally set him on edge, but now, after everything she’d been through, any slight deviation from the person she was all those years ago, sent terror coursing through his veins. 

His time with that wiped version of her made him paranoid over every little detail now.

“I just… I needed to feel something.” Iella said softly, as if she were reluctant to divulge the crisis she endured in his absence. “When I was that person, when I was on jobs, I would just feel numb. It was like I was walking in a daze, like I was watching everything happen from behind a screen.”

Din’s breathing hitched and his hands instinctively began a soothing motion on her back when he heard the crack in her voice as her emotions began to break. He stayed quiet, allowing her as much time as she needed to get it out. 

This was the most she’d spoken about her experience since he’d gotten her back and he wasn’t about to pressure her in any way.

“I started to feel that again.” She admitted, tears beginning welling in her eyes. “I jumped because I didn’t want any reminder of that… killer.” She spat the word with venom in her voice. 

“You’re not that person any more. You never were, not really.”

“I don’t think my psyche really cares about technicalities.” 

Din sighed at her cynical words and pulled her into him, letting her head rest against his shoulder as she hugged him tightly. The waves lapped at them methodically, effectively soothing both their racing hearts.

“I jumped because I needed to do something, anything, to not feel that anymore. I needed to shock my system or… I dunno, I just got desperate, I guess. It was the only thing I could think of.”

He nodded in understanding, his fear ebbing away the more he understood why she’d done what she’d done. It was finally sinking in that what she did wasn’t exactly deadly, tourists did that all the time in these waters, but because it was her and now, he couldn’t help but have thought the worst.

“Next time wait for me and I’ll be jumping right beside you.” 

Iella smiled softly, her love and gratitude for him blossoming to new heights she hadn’t even realized existed. 

“Deal.” 

All Din could do was hold her and hope tomorrow would be better.

~~

I hope you enjoyed some fluff before I put my OC through it again

Tags:  @cosmo-bear @lavenderl3mons @starfirette @the-feckless-wonder @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @lil-baby27 @promiscuoussatan @assassinsasha23 @killtherandomness @dartheldur @remmyswritings @boomtownboy@saramelcky @frietiemeloen @thefact0rygirl @fantasyfan4ever @thirstyb-ches @lilliannaansalla @starlite41​ @wantingtobekorra​ @moobaggg​ @altarsw

[dizzydancingdreamer]

A Very Merry Mikaelson Christmas | The Mikaelson Boys #19 & #21

Request: @rocketshiptoes “I’m very aware that it’s Christmas Eve and technically Christmas is over tomorrow but I wanna keep reading these so could you do 19 and 21 with literally any of the mikaelsons. All of them. One of them. I don’t care I’m just here because I love your work and want to read more 👉🏻👈🏻🥺” My WHOLE heart oh my 🥺🥺 this was rushed because I wanted to get it out but I hope you love it!

Prompt(s): “It lights up too?” & “That mistletoe was not hung with care.” “I tried okay!”

Word Count: 1.3k

Christmas Master List

A pair of soft hands covers your eyes, blocking the scene from It’s a Wonderful Life. You drop the remote, the soft thud echoed by soft giggles. You smile, letting her vanilla body butter swarm your senses. What on earth could she possibly be up to now?

“Bekah,” you muse, smiling at her antics, “what’s going on?”

She giggles again and you can’t help but join her, the sound positively infectious, “they have a surprise for you, darling?

Your heart skips a beat. A surprise?

“They? What do you mean Beks.” 

She tsks, slipping a blindfold over your eyes quickly, “don’t play coy, you vixen. You know very well who!”

You smile; she’s right. You smooth the fabric against your cheeks, feeling restless as you wait for whatever it is your boys have planned for you. A tiny bit of light seeps through the thin material but not nearly enough to decipher the activity around you. You see movement, and hear the soft sounds of bodies rustling around the room, but none of it makes much sense. You just want to see what all the fuss is about already.

“Alright, darling,” Kol’s voice flits to your ears and you can picture the smirk on his face without having to see it, “you can take it off.”

You follow his instructions, pulling at the silk behind your head and letting the blindfold fall. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light but when you do you're torn between breaking out in laughter again and bursting out in tears. You bring your hand to your mouth, teetering dangerously on the edge of doing both. 

In front of you stands the three Mikaelson brothers, each in the same hideous Christmas sweater. They’re a garish red colour with what appears to be hand sewn, felt mistletoes. The words Mikaelson Family Christmas are embroidered in yellow. You decide, for now, to giggle, throwing your head back and letting them flow freely from your chest. They look ridiculous! This is very much not their usual attire. You have to admit though, they wear them like well tailored suits.

“Well, love?” Klaus beams at you, his cheeks tinged pink, “how do we look?”

Elijah catches your eye, stepping forward with his arms spread, “please, don’t hold back baby. Lay it on us.”

You stand, lightheaded and giddy from laughing so much, “well if you insist.” You dramatically look the boys over, taking your time and tapping a finger to your chin, “all I can say is that mistletoe was not hung with care.”

“Wow,” Kol steps towards you, his mouth falling open in feigned shock. “Darling, I tried!”

He slips his arms around your waist, pulling you against him and leaning his head close to yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, rubbing your nose against his and pressing your lips against his lightly. He tastes like peppermint and berries, a combination that sounds altogether unholy but is undeniably delicious. 

“I appreciate your effort,” you giggle against his mouth, pausing to kiss him again, “but perhaps your talents lay outside of fashion design.”

He laughs, muttering something under his breath that you can’t quite catch. You turn to the other two men, stepping towards them gleefully. Elijah grabs your hand, twirling you around before pulling you to his chest. Your fingers slide over his chest, reveling in the warmth he exudes. He looks so out of his element in his sweater and it makes you beyond happy. He needs to loosen up.

Klaus’ hands land on your back, his head resting on your shoulder, “I’m glad you like them, love.”

Elijah and Klaus’ scents meld around you, merging evergreen and gingerbread in the most tantalizing way. They smell like Christmas and cookies and just goodness. It’s perfect. They’re all perfect.

You tilt your head back on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment, “I guess you could say that.”

A hand wraps around your arm, tugging you away from the two men. Bekah giggles again, standing in front of you and doing a little twirl. She, too, now wears one of the hideous sweaters, although it doesn’t look nearly as odd on her for some reason. It suits her, but so does everything.

“Bekah, not you too!” You tug lightly on her sweater, the wool scratchy under your fingers, “they dragged you into this as well?”

She nods, her eyes bright and mischievous. They peer over your shoulder for a moment before landing back on you, even more excited than a mere moment ago. She pulls her lip between her teeth, her head tilting slightly. You scrunch your eyebrows at her, a flood of questions bubbling in your throat. What is happening?

“Does that mean,” Elijah’s smooth voice carries over to you, low and serious all of a sudden, “that you don’t want one, baby?”

Wait, what? You spin so quickly that you almost fall over, your only solace being Bekah’s hand which is still latched on your arm. This time there are no mixed reactions; what you see brings tears rushing to your eyes. There, in Elijah’s hand, is one more sweater, one made just for you. 

Your words are muffled by your hand but it does nothing to mar the surprise in them, your throat stinging slightly from the emotion, “is that for me?” 

All three of them nod at you, Kol grabbing the article of clothing from his brother and stepping closer to you. He flips it around, showing you the tag stitched into the back. Your heart skips a beat, rendering you breathless. There, embroidered in the same yellow thread, is your name. You take a sharp breath, the first tear rolling down your cheek. It’s the ugliest thing that you’ve ever seen but for how you feel right now it could very well be made of gold.

You force your eyes away from the sweater, a feat much harder than it sounds, “but I’m not a Mikaelson.”

Klaus steps next to his brother, his fingers curling around your hips and pulling you into his arms, “that’s an easy fix, love.”

Your heart stops. Your eyes snap to his, your mouth falling open for what feels like the thousandth time today. The sweater slips from your fingers, pooling on the ground with a soft thud. Everything around you freezes, the world outside this room going still. For real, what is happening? 

“Excuse me?” is all you can think to say.

Elijah’s fingers wrap around your jaw, pulling your shocked face to meet his, “you’re a Mikaelson. You’re our Mikaelson. It’s high time everyone else knew.”

Your breath is shallow, your blood pumping in your ears. Is this really happening? Your eyes fly rapidly between the three of them, your head fuzzy from all of their stares. 

“So what do you say,” Kol kneels in front of you and you finally see the diamond ring in his hand, glittering in the glow of the Christmas tree behind him, “will you join our family? I know we’re a lot to handle,” his voice chokes up slightly and your tears kick into high gear, blurring your vision, “and I know that forever with us is a long time,” you swallow a tiny sob, covering it with a euphoric giggle, “but with you I also know it won’t be nearly long enough.”

Your heart restarts almost too quickly. You don’t have to even think about your answer, the word falling from your mouth before you can even process it, “yes, oh my yes!”

They cheer, at least you think they do, but all you can hear is your heart slamming in your chest as Kol slips the ring on your finger. It’s cold and foreign but oh so perfect. Your cheeks are wet, and your laughter is clouded with the occasional sob, but your blood feels electric, like you were only running on half power before this moment. You feel alive; for the first time you know what it feels like to be truly and fully alive.

You turn back to Bekah, ready to scream and jump with your best friend, when your eyes widen even more, “oh my god, it lights up too!”

[speedypandaweasel]

Change of Plans - A Yancy x Neutral! Reader

❤ REBLOGS WOULD BE APPRECIATED ❤

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 MASTERLIST

Where we left off:

So much for a lie in. You slowly rose from the cocoon of warmth you had made for yourself and you felt your toes wriggle up the bed and hiss at the exposed coldness of the room. Dragging yourself out of subconsciousness, your eyes finally decided to greet the grey interior and the black-barred window that perched just out of your arms reach. Why would they put such a tiny window if they didn’t want anyone to look out of it? Pretty pathetic actually. The Penitentiary really needed to repaint the bars, some of the black paint had flaked onto your pillow whilst you were sleeping.

You sat up, a little too quickly, and a cold, hard sensation hit the top of your body. Well good morning to you too World.

The unbearable ringing continued as you brought your arm down onto the squawking alarm clock. The room fell into a comfortable silence once more. 7:30am, not too bad, yet it could have been a little longer. Yet it was as if someone decided to balance a massive book on “how to not have a headache” on your already sore head. You’d ask Boggs for some paracetamol, or maybe some Ibuprofen as you tried to ponder on what did you do to deserve this...

~ Chapter 5 ~

MatchBox Analysis - 2.3K Words

"I'm here to speak to Officer Boggs." You timidly spoke, playing with the hem of your shirt. The man that towered in the small door frame in front of you was the most intimidating of all: Officer Rexx.

There were rumours about him that were too obscure and dangerous to mention twice, You only happen to hear about them when you overheard a couple of prisoners talking about "the anniversary" of how he lost his previous job, whatever that meant. To be frank, you didn't want to know about whatever hell hole he wriggled out of and treaded on eggshells around him, even if you weren't speaking to him. Something about that man caused you to feel insecure about something that you couldn't point your finger at, but there was no doubt that it was there.

"Yeah, he's in here." He paused for a moment. "You're one of the newer ones around here, aren't you? I've seen you around but never had the pleasure to meet."

He stuck out his grubby hand, his sausage fingers extended shortly at you, waiting for you to touch them. You grimaced before wiping that expression off your face. Rule 1: Never acknowledge the fingers.

You stuck out your hand bravely and shook his greasy one. His strong grip tightened around your knuckles as he shook hard, almost breaking your frail fingers.

"Well, I'll just go get him. Stay there." He spat. The door firmly closed behind him, the staff room's view blocked once again. You peeped through the mesh windows and managed to decipher the blurred silhouette of the sofa and coffee counter. You backed away as the door swung open again to the familiar face of Officer Boggs, his much shorter height made you relax second by the second.

"Oh hi Y/N, shouldn't you be outside?" He asked before shutting the door behind him, leaving the both of you outside in the wide hallway.

"Well I am, but I forgot to give you this from last night." You replied, planting your hand into your pocket before pulling out the owners key. Boggs let out a chuckle as his rosy cheeks grew even merrier.

"I forgot I gave you this! I'm glad that at least someone doesn't take my naivety for granted" He continued. "I respect that about you."

He unhooked the jingling keys from his beltline and clipped the Cafertiera key on the chain. He had a proud collection of keys to his name - being a veteran member of the Prison, it did have its perks.

"Well thank you, I really appreciate that Boggs. You know, sometimes I don't feel like I fit in here myself." Sounded cliche, you internally facepalmed yourself. Normally you wouldn't be telling this to anyone, but Boggs had been there since forever so it was nice to tell at least someone your true thoughts about staying here.

"Oh now don't think like that, every prisoner when they first come in her feels like that, but don't worry, I'm sure that the others will welcome you soon. Have you tried talking to them? I know you're not the socially inclined person but give it a shot. Who knows? You might actually enjoy their company" He concluded.

When Boggs gave advice, it could go two ways: either it was incredibly awful which ended in bad decisions being drawn from it, or it could be genuinely heartwarming and sincere words of wisdom. Thankfully, this was one of those pieces.

You allowed yourself to run over the speech the superior had just given and smiled. You could spark up a conversation with Yancy, you could ask him about what that poem meant! Maybe that could be the starting point of breaking out of your introverted shell.

"Thanks Boggs, I really do appreciate you." You said, before heading off outside.

"Have fun! But not too much fun, I don't want for you to get hurt!" His yells sounded down the empty corridor.

The mid-day sun blazed down on the steaming concrete, the prisoners having that work-out glow. Yancy had rolled his short sleeves even shorter, exposing his lesser-known tattoos, and his private box was stuffed in his trouser leg conveniently, away from the guard's view. If anyone found out what was in this box..well, it would ruin him.

Racing became tiresome after a couple of hours so the prisoners resorted to lazily running laps around the small quarter, this included the songbird himself.

"I tell's ya T, you wanna stop off for a few minutes? this box is gettin' uncomfortable." He protested, shifting his weight from one foot to another, finding a comfortable spot in his trouser leg.

"Why, you chickening out? Scared that someone will beat your record?" T retorted.

The prisoners slowed to a stop. Yancy regrettably paused his track game and attempted to get his ragged breath back.

"No ya dingus, it's 'cause dis box is scratchin' my skin off! I swear I's bleedin' down my shin by now."

Tiny's retort turned into concern as they pulled over to the side of the quarter. Once out of sight, Yancy slowly rolled his trouser leg up to his shin and took out the small, worn-out box from the bottom of his leg.

"Your leg hasn't been sawed off Yance, but you sure you need to keep it there? You could hurt yourself."

Yancy chortled shortly, not willing to admit that his friend was right. After what happened last time, he was going to learn from his mistakes. He rubbed his fading ankle bruise as he remembered the time he stayed in the medical ward. But the question was: where was he going put the little thing?

His eyes scanned the usual nooks and crannies that he had hid stuff in before, but word somehow got out and now everyone was using them for their secret stashes. Great - so much for having the upper hand.

His eyes continued to look for somewhere to stuff the thing until his ears pricked up on the outside door swinging open. His frustrated face broke into a smile as he saw you walk out timidly, and perching on a weight bench.

"Here, can youse hang on to it for a hot minute, just don't open it alight," He said, his curious eyes never leaving your sight.

Tiny was startled. The Boss never let them hold anything of his, let alone the one thing he persistently never left out of his sight. Tiny slipped the matchbox into their shoe before taking a squat down the brick wall as they watched their mate stride over to the newbie, but chose not to follow suit.

You picked at the seat cushion like it was the most interesting thing ever to you, whilst plucking up the courage to go and talk to the most confident person out here. Your eyes managed to look up. partially blinded from the sun but saw the small huddles of prisoners near the water pitches, walking around, or down by the blind spot. Guards stood at every entrance broadly, letting people in and out of the area, their moist uniforms made you wonder how the hell they managed to keep composure in this heat.

Your moment abruptly came as you saw the man of the hour coming towards you, his wide shoulders fully exposed to the heats rays. You knew he worked but w-w-wow.

"Finally decided to join in the fun eh?" He sprung up the conversation.

Chuckling, you look down, embarrassed and in amusement "And I'm guessing that this is the newest trouser look. Is this asymmetric chic? or is this just you trying to use illusion to become taller?" You threw a double whammy at him.

Yancy's shocked eyes bored into your own mischievous ones for a brisk moment. Suddenly, he exaggeratedly placed a hand on his chest before crumbling to the grass floor. "Oh de pain! I can't bear it anymore! Not another short joke!"

Other people around the quarter edge were starting to laugh along with his flailing and happily applauded when he finished his piece. The cheering and jeering died down as the conversation drifted back to normal, as Yancy dragged his trouser leg down and sidled up next to you and he bumped his hard shoulder next to yours.

"What a Drama Queen." You continued, letting out a small smile.

"What can I's say, I got's to get ma training in somewhere." He replied "So how's it been with you? Finish dat book yet?"

It was as if he read your mind! The topic of the poetry book caught your attention as you chipped away at your social shell. "Uh, not yet, but I did want to ask you a couple of questions about poem 19. You know, the one you recommended I read?"

The prisoner stretched his arms and placed them behind himself. "Oh yeah! It's one of ma favourites! I personally thinks its about de good and bad sides to love and once you've actually caught feelings for someone, it pains you to do things dat even surprise yaself. Youse got me?"

You would have never known that Yancy had a passion for literature, just listening to him made you even more dedicated to spending time with him. Boggs was right with his advice, it didn't bruise your ego that bad to socialise with new people, as it made you question what other things the man had up it sleeve - or trouser leg.

You rephrased yourself, "Ok then Yance, do you read poems often then?" your feet started to dance around the grassy floor, flattening pieces of green.

"So do you analyse poems often then Yancy?"

The man interrupted you "Oh please, call me Yance, only the big dog calls me Yancy."

"I used to when I was a youngin', my family hads a nice library ya see. Dey's had Shakespeare, Jane Austen, and some oder authors I can't remember but when youse a fabulous actor like myself, you gotta keep up ya noggin' in check." He smiled and looked out onto the busy area, almost reminiscing about his past life.

He never liked to bring up the subject of his past but when Yacny was with you, it felt- right. To finally talk about childhood memories and just laugh about them, instead of it always being dragged back to the soul reason why he was locked up at Happy Trails in the first place.

His strong arm planted on the side of your small shoulder as he gave you a tight squeeze. "How about youse? Do you read?"

"I-Uh... I"

Words formed in your mouth, yet your tongue was on holiday, not responding to any sentence your brain was throwing at you. Butterflies were born in your stomach as your face started to feel warm, too warm for your liking. What was happening? Were you having sunstroke!?

"Youse ok? Ya looking a little warm d'ere" Yancy said, dropping his arm from your side. "Youse want me to go grab you some water?"

This signalled your tongue to finally come back to work. "Oh. No, I'm fine thanks and yeah, I read, that's what I was going to ask about you actually." You said, forcing confidence.

"No way! Heh, I guess great minds think alike huh?" He replied, grinning his addicting smile. He looked over to where he left Tiny and an idea sprung in his scheming mind. "Hey, youse wanna come over to the wall, I got's a friend who you could meet. I mean, only if you wanna?" Yancy laughed, trying to sweetly coax you deeper into socialisation.

You hesitated. This man sure was alluring, but risking another episode like that caused you to reconsider. You bit your bottom lip, slightly, your eyebrows became sewn together as you weighted up your options. Either go over and run your social battery out completely, or decline and recover from this moment.

"Thanks Yance, but I think I'm done for the day." You responded. "All this talking and warm heat" and maybe some other things "has made my head spin a little."

"Ok, well if youse's sure." Yancy stood up once more and punched your shoulder "See you around Keys!"

You saw him walk back to his mate and sit down together under the shade of the building. You blissfully made your way back inside of Happy Trails, back with you and your own thoughts.

Its blasting air conditioner made your arms tingle as you pulled out a chair in the Cafeteria and went to reach for the poetry book. The silence hung much thicker in the air as you sat uncomfortably. Is this what withdrawal felt like? To be isolated not a minute after being surrounded by people. You kind of missed the feeling of having someone to talk to, but everyone had their boundaries - even you. You tried not to linger on the thought of feeling like you let Yancy down. He gave you the opportunity to help you overcome your fears but you didn't take it. Maybe next time you would take it, but for now, you did something new today: You should be proud of yourself.

You scanned around at the empty chairs and tables, the occasional guard whistling by the Cafeteria's door frame before you brought your head to the window. Your eyes soon spotted Yancy sashaying around with his friend. They must have said something funny because he soon showed his pearly whites, his chest rising and falling as his strong hand clutched his chest. Your eyes couldn't tear themselves away from this scene. The jailbird was the only person who actually tried with you. Smiling to yourself, you looked back up and your breath hitched. He was looking directly back at you and giving you a small wave. His smaller companion followed suit, shooting their hand straight up, frantically joining in. You sheepishly waved back before opening the book from you left off.

"Missed me Y/N?"

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

Tell Me Pretty Lies

Summary: Yoongi meets you when he’s 13, and falls in love with you about thirty seconds after that.

Warnings: this is mostly angst with a little bit of smut, vaginal sex, oral sex, just a lot of sad and mad, alcohol used as a coping mechanism, just an angsty friends to lovers au nothing to see here

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 7181

13

There is often some new kid coming in mid quarter, and Yoongi doesn’t pay much mind to any of it when his homeroom teacher introduces you.

He does look up, though, when you speak, your voice quiet but strong.

“My name is Y/n,” is all you say, even though the teacher encourages you to say something about yourself.

Yoongi likes it, likes the way you tilt your chin up just slightly and shake your head when the teacher pushes.

He likes the way your hair curls at your neck, the way your backpack is slung half over one shoulder, as if you could drop it at any time.

Yoongi tries not to stare, but his brain wants to memorize the line of your jaw, your cheekbones. He looks back down at his notebook when you walk towards him.

You keep your head down as you walk across the room, settle next to his desk and he smells something like raspberries when you settle in.

He doesn't look up, writing his name over and over in his notebook, until you clear your throat.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "Can I borrow a pencil?"

When he looks up he's struck by your big eyes and he silently hands over his, the only one he has.

You smile, big and open, and Yoongi spends the rest of his life chasing how that smile made him feel.

16

His hands are shaking when he pins on your corsage, palms sweaty when you take his hand while your mother takes pictures. 

Yoongi had gone on and on about how much he hated the idea of prom, how it was all institutionalized bullshit, but you’d just smiled, tilted your head.

“I think it’s kind of nice.”

“Yeah right,” he dismisses, shoveling another spoonful of rice into his mouth in the cafeteria.

But you keep smiling, moving your food around on your plate.

“Really? Prom?”

You shrug. “I like the idea of dressing up, someone wanting to show me off.”

“Yeah?” 

You look up at him then, nod a little, and that little wistful smile tells him you don’t think anyone will ask you, tells him you don’t think your mother can afford a dress, and his chest aches.

“Wanna go with me?” He asks, and the way your smile widens into a grin makes him feel like he could rule the world.

The dance is a blur of flashing lights from pictures and the disco ball they’ve hung, of his hands on your hips as you dance to whatever dumb pop song is playing, your flushed cheeks. There’s spiked punch and his friends handing him a flask of something cheap and acidic and by the end of the night his head is spinning.

What he does remember, he remembers so vividly that he can feel your hands on his chest when he thinks about it, can see the smeared lipstick at the corner of your mouth, feel the brick against his back when you push him against the wall.

Did he kiss you or did you kiss him? He doesn’t remember, it’s like everything shut off the instant your lips met, the instant your tongue slides into his mouth like it belongs there and all he can feel is your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, your breasts against his chest. It was probably just a couple of moments, that kiss, probably just an instant, but the way Yoongi remembers it is like you’d stood there for hours like that and when you pull away he remembers clutching at your dress.

You’d laughed, covering your mouth, and your eyes are sparkling and glassy and Yoongi would do unimaginable things to get that moment back, to live in it forever.

He remembers you holding his hand in the car, remembers your head on his shoulder.

The next day he has a throbbing headache but he can still taste your strawberry flavored lip gloss and a hangover can’t stop him from smiling all day.

When you don’t answer his calls, don’t show up at school for two days, there’s a panic in his throat that he can’t ignore and he fights the urge to show up at your house for as long as he can, which turns out to be noon on the second day.

He skips third period and knocks on your door and when you open it, your eyes seem too big, your mouth swollen.

“Yoongi,” you say, in this hoarse voice, and he wonders if it’s from too much sleep or too many cigarettes. He opens his mouth and then there’s this low voice, calling your name from behind you.

Yoongi feels like all the air has gone out of his lungs. 

“Oh,” he says stupidly, standing there, looking at you blankly.

“Yoongi,” you say, more softly, but by then his legs have started working and he’s walking fast toward his house, fighting tears and the acid in his stomach.

19

Yoongi fucking hates frat parties. He’s not even in a frat, but his best friend Hoseok is, and he’s been dragged out to some kegger and he’s around all these idiots chugging beer and holding a solo cup when he sees you.

Some beefy freshman is doing a kegstand and you’re just laughing big and open and it makes his heart flutter in his chest.

He’s making his way over to you, wedged in between a sea of fratboys, when the freshman stands up and you steady him with your hands on your hips.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” you mutter, but you’re still laughing when the guy leans down to kiss your mouth.

It’s familiar, the way Yoongi’s stomach rolls, the way his skin feels tingly as if there’s something crawling beneath it. He takes in a deep breath, moves back toward the keg as if he won’t spend the whole night watching you, wondering if you were taking someone home.

“Who’s that?” Hoseok asks when he returns, eyes big and glassy despite only having had a couple of beers. Yoongi had told him he was too much of a lightweight to join a frat.

“Her? That’s Y/n.”

“An ex?”

Yoongi snorts, takes another gulp of beer before answering. It hurts, that question, and he’s been asked it so many times and he’s not quite sure how to explain what you are to him.

“Nah. She’s my best friend.”

He hears it in his own voice, how it goes soft and gentle, and he hates himself for it. Luckily Hoseok is tipsy enough to be easily distracted, pulled into a game of beer pong or whatever the fuck frats play at these stupid parties.

Yoongi’s content to be a wallflower usually, but he finds himself scanning the room, looking for you. All he sees is broad shoulders of the frat boys and a scattering of freshmen girls. He only spots you by the guy you were with, he’s got a Greek letter painted sloppily on his chest and you sitting in his lap on the couch.

After another couple of beers Yoongi is drunk enough to go over to the couch, to come over and sit next to you with his beer in his hand.

“Yoongi,” you say, almost in a breath, and scramble off the freshman’s lap to be closer to him.

It makes his throat ache, how you put your head on his shoulder, just like you did that trip home from prom, and he puts his arm around you out of instinct.

“Y/n-ah,” he calls softly. “You need me to take you home?”

“I can take her home,” the kid pipes up, words slurred around the edges.

Yoongi’s eyes shoot to his, and the kid backs down almost instantly, slumping back against the couch.

You nod against his shoulder, curling into him even more, and he stands up to tug you up. On the walk home, you don’t even seem that drunk, you’re walking fine but you lean against him nonetheless, keep his hand tight in yours until you reach your dorms.

He starts to walk away when you unlock the door but you tug at his hand.

“Come lie down with me,” you say in a hushed whisper, and Yoongi knows how small these dorm beds are, he’d been awkwardly in one with a couple of girls before, knows he’ll wake up with his arm asleep and his head hanging off the bed, but your eyes are big and pleading and so he just follows you to the bed, props up against the wall and tries not to look when you shuck off your jeans, climb into bed in your tanktop and panties.

Instead of letting him spoon you like he’d expected, you nuzzle your face into his neck. 

“Yoongi,” you say again, this breath against his throat, and he feels this wave of emotion so big it threatens to drown him.

“What?” He asks softly, tugging the sheets up to your neck.

“Love you,” you mumble, throwing an arm around his waist and his breath catches in his chest.

Your hair smells like tobacco and Axe body spray but he wouldn’t change a single moment.

22

Yoongi thinks he’s intelligent, he thinks he can predict what’s coming to a certain degree, but the night before his college graduation, he’s completely blindsided. It isn’t as if you haven’t talked. You always talk, even if it’s just here and there, a couple of text messages over a few weeks. Yoongi doesn’t ever let too much time go by without speaking to you, he hasn’t since you’d met.

But it hadn’t been the same, ever since you started dating that sophomore, Jungkook. It isn’t as if Yoongi doesn’t like him.

He’s a sweet enough kid, seems to be crazy about you. Yoongi can’t hate him, and that’s what makes it hard. You only shrugged when Yoongi asked you about him, and that made the tightness in his chest loosen just a bit.

It’s a bit after midnight when there’s this knock on the door, a knock he knows. It’s two knocks, a pause, and then another, and the sound of it always makes his heart jump into his throat.

He rushes to the door and when he opens it you’re standing there with your backpack on and rolling luggage behind you, eyes wide and wet.

“Can I stay here tonight?” 

As if you have to ask. Yoongi opens the door, takes your luggage, can’t stop himself from taking you by the shoulders.

“What happened?” 

“We broke up,” you say, your voice low and hoarse again, and your eyes, there’s something in them that hurts him, makes him ache deep in his bones.

“Do you want me to firebomb his house?” Yoongi asks flippantly, but he means it, he’d set the world on fire for you.

You laugh a little and sniffle. “Nothing like that, Yoongi. I just needed to let go.” 

Yoongi pulls you into his arms before he can think about it, kisses the top of your head.

“It’s okay,” he promises, and he means that too, he’ll make it okay, no matter what.

You hug him so tight, press your face into his chest and cry for a few moments before pulling away and wiping at your face.

“Do you have any beer?”

That’s how you end up sitting on the arm of the couch next to him, and he’s half drunk on beer and half drunk on the way your arm feels light around his shoulder, your nails scratching at his bicep just lightly enough to give him goosebumps.

“Yoongi,” you call softly, and he’d been staring at the television not paying a bit of attention to what was happening on the screen so he looked up at you and your mouth looked so full, so close.

“Hmm?” He doesn’t seem able to string a sentence together and he has only had three beers.

“How come you never kissed me?” 

Yoongi takes in a breath like all the air has thinned, and he doesn’t think, for once, doesn’t think a single word, just puts his arm around your waist and pulls you into his lap.

You make a surprised squeak but you’re smiling, that big open smile that made him feel like he was on top of the world.

He kisses you first on the corner of your mouth, soft, and then again on the softest part of your bottom lip. When you part your lips and let him slide his tongue inside he feels a bolt of pleasure shoot up his spine.

It isn’t his first kiss, or his second, or his tenth, but it’s you. It’s you and you make him so hungry, it’s like he’s starving for it, for the taste of bitter beer on your tongue, the soft breathy moans you make into his mouth.

“Yoongi,” you moan, and he pulls away but you shake your head, mumbling protests and clutching at his shirt. “Don’t let me go.”

“Never,” he says fiercely, and kisses you again, harder, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.

When you move off his lap he feels empty, this void in his chest, but you take his hand, tug him up and lead him to the bedroom. 

You undress slow, like you’re putting on a show for him and he’s rapt, looking up at you with his tongue darting to the corner of his mouth. He sits there like an idiot, fully dressed until you drop to your knees and put your hand on his waistband.

“Y/n,” he breathes, but when you look up at him he’s struck silent again by your big eyes and the way you yank down his sweats, your tongue darting out to wet your lips when his cock is freed.

He’s half hard just from kissing you and he feels his face heating up, embarrassed, but you just make this moan in the back of your throat.

When you dip your head, his cock twitches in anticipation and when you suck the head into your mouth he draws in a sharp breath and fists his hands in the sheets.

He can’t say he hasn’t imagined this, hasn’t imagined it was you when he took himself in hand or worse, when a girl was between his thighs.

Imagination is much different from the real thing, you’re looking up at him and he’s holding his breath and feeling his balls draw up before you’ve even gotten properly started.

Yoongi cups your face in his hands and you make a whining noise that makes him chuckle.

“Your mouth is too perfect, baby,” he mumbles, and he’s surprised at how calm his voice sounds to his own ears. He’d expected his mouth to run away with him, expected to tell you all the things he’d been holding inside for all these years, but he can barely speak, barely even form a sentence, much less a confession.

“Condoms?” You ask, moving to straddle his thighs, and all he can do is nod, a lump in his throat because your breasts are in his face.

You look at him expectantly, smiling, and he shakes his head to clear it and scoots back on the bed, putting an arm around your waist to pull you with him.

You giggle at how awkward the movement is and he groans but he’s smiling when he manages to find a condom in his bedside drawer.

You take it from him immediately and shift on his lap and he can’t even believe this is happening, is still looking down at your breasts, the swell of your stomach, the mound of your pussy. He’s never even seen you naked and he feels like he doesn’t have enough time to drink you in like he wants to. He wants to memorize every swell and dip, every line and mark, but you’re already applying the condom and rocking your hips forward and he can’t think anymore.

“Oh, oh,” is all he can manage, somewhere between a gasp and a groan, and your lips find his and you’re kissing him like you can’t get enough, like you’re just as hungry as he’s always been and he can’t help himself from thrusting up under you, his hands moving from your breasts to your hips and back again.

He doesn’t know what to touch first, wants everything, wants all of you, but his body isn’t listening to his brain and he’s so close to orgasm that all he can do for the most part is lie there while you work him over. You pull away and brace your hands on his chest, and he’s rapt.

He’s been with a dozen girls or so over his college experience, but this is so vastly different that all he can do is watch you, mouth parted, his tongue coming out to wet the corner of his mouth. 

All his sexual experiences seem to be when he was drunk at some party and got a blowjob or met someone in a club and took them home, bent them over the couch arm. It wasn’t like this, it wasn’t slow and sensual, you rolling your hips and rocking forward at the same time, your breasts bouncing, your cunt sucking him in with every thrust when he can’t help himself and his hips twitch up.

Yoongi feels lightheaded from the way you moan his name, from how your fingernails press into his chest, how you don’t even close your eyes, keeping them on his and there’s something so hungry in them, something that reminds him of how he’s felt every moment he’s spent with you for years.

He knows it’s coming, can feel it hitch in his chest and his throat before the words came out.

“Y/n, you’re so beautiful.” 

The words come out low and almost hoarse, and your hips slow just a bit and he’s grateful, he doesn’t think he could have lasted much longer at your pace.

“Yoongi, tell me you want me.”

He blinks up at you, his hands going to spread up your back. He sits up, which just spears him deeper into you and it makes you gasp.

He pulls you closer, your breasts against his chest, his forehead touching yours. 

“I’ve always wanted you,” he says, and it’s this cracked whisper and he feels like he’s lost 100 pounds of weight, saying those words. It doesn’t stop there, though, everything spilling out of him and he can’t stop it. “I’ve always loved you, Y/n.”

A sob catches in your chest and Yoongi kisses you softly, ignoring his body’s urge to move his hips.

“I love you too,” you whisper into his mouth, and something like “I’m sorry,” but he’s stopped listening after you’d confessed, his heart jolting in his chest.

He flips you over on your back, kisses playfully down your neck and he can’t stop smiling.

“Don’t cry,” he tells you, and you give him the most beautiful, watery smile.

After that, after your words and your smile it’s soft and slow and wonderful, he keeps kissing along your jawline as he moves inside you, across the bridge of your nose.

He hates having to pull out of you, it makes him feel disconnected from you somehow, but you roll over, throw your leg around his hip, nuzzle your face into his chest, and he feels like he can’t contain all the things he feels. He wants to mumble all the words he’s wanted to say to you most of his life but his eyelids are so heavy and you feel so soft and warm in his arms and before he knows it, there’s sunlight streaming through the window and the bed feels oddly cold.

He mumbles your name but after there’s no answer he figures you’ve gone to the bathroom, that you’ll come padding back, and when you don’t he sits up in bed.

After that, everything seems to move at the speed of light. Your luggage is gone, no sign of you at all except the smell of you on his sheets and when he calls you, you don’t answer. It takes a few hours before he calls Jungkook, wondering if you’d gone back, his chest feeling tight.

“I haven’t seen her since she left,” Jungkook says, voice hoarse, and Yoongi would almost feel bad for him if it weren’t for the ache in his throat, the panic churning his stomach. “She’s doing that study abroad thing, and she said she didn’t want me to wait for her.”

“That what?” It seems like Yoongi’s vision has narrowed to a pinpoint.

He barely hears Jungkook explaining that you’re studying abroad in England for a year, that you’ve disabled all your social media so that you can “really experience things.”

It takes another couple of hours before things sink in and suddenly something like anger rises in him so strongly that he can’t help himself, he rips the sheets off his bed, hating that they smell like your hair and your skin, throws his mattress against the wall and none of it makes him feel better.

He tries to distract himself with music, but that doesn’t help either, he just keeps hearing songs that you danced to at prom all those years ago, or some sad song that makes him think of the downturned corner of your mouth when you’d showed up at his door with your luggage and red rimmed eyes.

Whiskey seems to help more, makes him feel less present, adrift in a way that he usually hated but it was blissful, now, quieted his head and the pounding of his heart. It doesn’t last long, though, there’s always this line where he slips over comfortably buzzed into a downswing where all his emotions hit him at once, and around the fourth drink, he tries to call you again.

You don’t answer and there’s this lump in his throat he can barely breathe around when his phone buzzes with a text.

I’m sorry.

23

When you return from your trip abroad, you’re glowing and healthy and full of light in a way Yoongi has rarely seen you, and even though there’s something bitter in his throat the first time he sees you, he can’t help but fall back into being your friend again.

Being your friend and wanting more is something he got used to around age 13, so it isn’t as hard as he thinks it is going to be. At least not at first.

It gets a hell of a lot harder when you kiss him after his 23rd birthday party, your cheeks flushed with alcohol. It’s just a peck full on the lips but it makes his skin tingle, and then you do it again, and again, until he can’t help but take the back of your neck in his hand and slide his tongue into your mouth.

He eats you out with your legs on his shoulders and your ass up against the glass door of his apartment, out on the balcony, and he tastes you on his lips and tongue for hours after you fall asleep in his arms.

Yoongi tells himself he’s not watching you sleep, just making sure you won’t throw up after all the drinking you’d done, but he’s full of shit because he drank more than you and he keeps staring at your eyelashes fanned across your cheekbones, the way your mouth parts, the little whine you make when he shifts.

That’s how it starts, the benefits portion of your friendship, and you stop dating anyone else and Yoongi doesn’t want to ask what this is for fear that you’ll stop it, disappear from his bed in the wee hours of the morning like last time.

It’s a fragile balance he keeps by pretending he’s not in love with you anymore.

“So you guys are like, fucking on the regular now?” Jimin asks after he sees you leaving in Yoongi’s tshirt and a pair of cutoffs at 6am to get ready for work.

Yoongi shrugs. “I wouldn’t say regular.”

Taehyung and Jungkook are playing an oddly calm round of Smash on the floor, with Jimin on his phone, feet curled up on the couch next to Yoongi.

“Seems pretty regular,” Taehyung comments idly.

“I’m glad you two are finally together,” Jungkook says, and Jimin kicks him in the shoulder with the side of his foot, causing Jungkook to look back with an affronted expression.

Yoongi feels something flutter around his head but he ignores it, clears his throat.

“We’re not….together. It’s just...friends.”

“Friends with benefits,” Taehyung says, just as idly, knocking Jungkook off the screen.

Jungkook lets out a long breath. “They’ve always been more than friends. Right, hyung?”

He looks up with Yoongi with wide eyes and Yoongi feels a pang in his chest that he ignores.

Ignoring is something he’s gotten rather good at the last couple of months.

“Right,” Jimin says before he can speak, looking at Yoongi sharply. “Which is why this is a bad idea.”

“It’s none of your business,” Yoongi snaps back.

“Oh yeah? Like last year when she skipped the country after you fucked her and we had to watch you every second so you didn’t drink yourself to death for a full month?”

Yoongi draws in a deep breath. “It’s not like that this time.”

Taehyung shrugs, sitting down his controller. “If hyung says it’s not like that, it’s not like that.”

Jimin scoffs. “Right.”

“I think it’s a good thing,” Jungkook insists. “They’ll end up together and it’ll be a great story.”

“Jungkookie,” Jimin says with a fond lilt to his voice. “You’re so stupid.”

Jungkook tackles Jimin and that ends the conversation and Yoongi is grateful to be able to sneak off to his room and pretend he’s not washing his sheets because he’s lazy and not because he likes to smell your shampoo on his pillowcase when he falls asleep.

It goes on like that for weeks, six, not that he’s counting, when you ask him to come out with you to celebrate your work promotion.

It isn’t as if you’re going out on a date, Jimin and Jungkook are coming as well as some of your friends, but Yoongi feels nervous nonetheless, changing his clothes three times before settling on black slacks and a white button up.

He has to keep himself from running his hands through his hair when he and Jimin take an Uber to meet you at the club, and Yoongi almost wants to ask the driver to take him back home when he sees you through the window.

You’re wearing this crimson red dress that hugs your curves, low heels that show off your calves and thighs, and the brightest smile, hair up on top of your head, curls bouncing at your throat.

Yoongi feels like he’s been fighting this losing battle for the last six weeks and when you throw your arms around his neck, loose and already a bit tipsy from congratulatory drinks, he’s about ready to throw in the towel.

It goes on like that all night, you sticking to his side, touchy, even going so far as to plant a kiss on the back of his neck that gives him goosebumps, introducing him to all your friends with this big smile and your hand curled around his bicep, like you’re proud, and if he wasn’t ignoring how much he wanted you to, Yoongi could almost imagine that you were introducing him as your boyfriend instead of your best friend.

If Yoongi wasn’t spending so much time pretending not to love you, he might have noticed when things start to fall apart, that night, somewhere around his fifth beer. You’ve stopped being attached to him the past couple of hours and Yoongi misses the heat of your skin next to his suddenly, his mind hazy from drinking all night, and starts to look around for you.

Before he can find you, Jimin sidles up next to him, tugs at his hand.

“I think we should go home, hyung,” he says, and it’s not the drunk whiny tone he usually has, something different in it, and Yoongi frowns at him.

“What do you mean, go home? This is Y/n’s party.”

“I know, but she’s-she’s gonna go home too.” Jimin looks weird. He’s being weird and Yoongi just wants to find you and tell you goodbye but Jimin is hanging off him like a spider monkey.

When he finally catches sight of you, dragging his friend around the bar, the air goes out of his lungs in a long, pathetic whoosh.

Yoongi vaguely remembers being introduced to the guy who currently has his tongue halfway down your throat, some coworker of yours, Jay something, 

“Oh,” he says, and his tongue and throat feel numb and slow and he doesn’t know if it’s from the alcohol or the way his heart has dropped to somewhere near his ankles.

“Hyung, let’s just go home,” Jimin says again, quieter, and Yoongi nods.

Jimin stays over, keeps watching him as if Yoongi is going to upend a container of bleach and Yoongi can’t blame him.

He isn’t sure if it feels better or worse than last time. Everything feels numb, and he’s a little worried that when the alcohol wears off it’ll all hit him at once so he doesn’t complain when Jimin climbs into bed with him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Yoongi says, his words slow and thick, after the lights are out.

Jimin finds his hand in the darkness and squeezes it. “No, hyung. You can’t.”

When Yoongi tells you that he can’t keep doing the physical part of your relationship anymore a couple days later, your bottom lip trembles just a bit and he wants to take it all back, pull you into his arms and change his mind entirely but he squeezes his fists at his sides instead.

“Yoongi,” you call before you leave. “Are you mad at me? Are we-are we okay?”

“We’re always okay,” he says softly, and he means it, there’s nothing he can think of that would tear him away from you.

It turns out his imagination just wasn’t big enough to imagine the fissure that happens a few years later.

26

There have been lulls in your friendship before, in college and after, but for three years nothing much happens. Yoongi only sees you a handful of times, lunch here or there, and most of your communication is via text or through social media.

You have a pretty big twitter following because you’re witty and gorgeous and maybe Yoongi checks it at least one time a day, but otherwise he’s busy and he doesn’t think about it too much. At least he tries not to.

One day he starts to get a lot of notifications at once, and he checks his phone in the middle of his day job (At Best Buy, which is incredibly boring but he can put in his earbuds and mix songs in between unloading boxes and helping customers decide which laptop is best to browse the internet on), and there’s all these tweets tagging you in congratulations.

Yoongi tilts his head, thinks about texting you to ask what the big news is, but instead traces it back to your page.

It turns out to be a simple tweet, a picture of you blowing a kiss to the camera with some guy with his head on his shoulder and Yoongi wrinkles his nose at the familiar sting of jealousy that pierces through him.

He’s used to it, you’ve dated off and on throughout your friendship and it isn’t like he likes it, knowing someone else is holding you at night, someone else’s dick in your mouth, but they never last long and you never take them seriously.

The caption underneath the picture is what makes him drop his phone, makes his manager ask if he needs to go home early.

He proposed. Should I say yes? ;)

Yoongi does go home, feeling adrift again, like he’s standing outside his body and watching himself drive home. He’s gotten a series of increasingly worried texts from Jimin and so he responds back to say that yes, he’s seen, and yes, he’s going home, and yes, he thinks it’s a good idea if he has company.

“It’s been three years,” Yoongi says, blankly, when Jimin sits down on the couch next to him.

“It’s been like, fifteen years,” Jimin says, and that isn’t helpful.

“No, I mean, since I last-since I said….I said it was over, that I wouldn’t think of her that way anymore.”

“I know,” Jimin says, and that’s a little more helpful.

“She’s never been serious with anyone before,” Yoongi says, still feeling blank, like he doesn’t know what he’s going to say until he says it.

“I know,” Jimin says again, pushing a cup of tea into Yoongi’s hands.

“Do you think she’ll really get married?” Yoongi looks over at Jimin as if he needs help, as if he’s drowning, and that’s exactly how it feels.

Jimin takes a deep breath and Yoongi braces himself for Jimin’s hard truths. It’s funny, Jimin, he’s so sweet and helpful, but he’s also always there to tell him when he’s being stupid.

“Have you ever actually...told her?”

Yoongi blinks at him. “What, that I--yeah. Yeah, I’ve said it.”

“What, when you were fucking?”

Yoongi chokes a little on his tea. “Well, not that it’s any of your business, but yeah.”

“Hyung, you can’t just confess during sex and expect her to take it seriously.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Jimin doesn’t argue with him, this time, just sips his tea with his shoulder against Yoongi’s and it does help and Yoongi is grateful to have him as a friend.

Yoongi just tries not to think about it too much the rest of the week, just sends you a quick text: congrats and goes back to work like nothing happened with his stupid cracked phone. It gets better and he’s able to ignore it for the most part until you and your new boyfriend (fiance, his mind whispers) show up at his job looking for a new phone.

“--family plan,” Yoongi hears him say through the rush of blood in his ears and he’s just staring at you and you have this puzzled smile on your face.

“It’s my break time,” Yoongi mumbles, and he takes off his nametag and throws it on the counter and leaves.

In hindsight, quitting his job and only means of income because he wanted to avoid being in love and having his heart broken for like, the seventeenth time was probably a dramatic and ill-advised idea.

He thinks this a week later when he’s moved in with Hoseok and he keeps staring at his phone, looking at your texts but not responding to them.

Hoseok, on the other hand, is the worst friend in the whole world and when you call him, answers right away.

“Oh, hello, Y/n!” He says in the loudest voice, and Yoongi winces from his spot on the couch.

Hoseok walks toward him and Yoongi makes all manner of gestures to tell him that he did not want to talk to you.

Hoseok ignores them all.

“Yoongi? Oh, sure! He’s right here!” 

Yoongi glares at Hoseok when he takes the phone and Hoseok just gives him a dazzling smile.

“Hey,” he says, defeated, into the phone.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, like his name is some exalted thing, and he hates the way it makes his heart leap. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you so long. Did you move?”

“Uh...yeah, I moved in with Hoseok. I uh, changed jobs.”

“Oh. Are you...are you okay?”

“Fine,” he lies, like he’s not sitting in the same spot he’d been in for two days, watching TIkTok videos in an effort to think about anything other than you.

“I was hoping I could see you.”

Yoongi doesn’t know if he should. He doesn’t know if he can. Of course, he says yes immediately, and then after he hangs up chucks his phone at Hoseok who just won’t stop smiling.

You say you’ll come over the next day, with no time or anything, so Yoongi sleeps in, knowing that Hoseok will be working like all other gainfully employed people. Unfortunately, you’d always been an early riser, and he’s woken up by the sound of the doorbell ringing.

Half asleep, he stumbles to the door, wondering if Hoseok had forgotten his keys or something, and when he sees you he rubs a hand across his face.

“Fuck. Hi.”

“Nice to see you too,” you snort, pushing past him. You’re carrying a brown paper bag that smells heavenly.

“Sorry, didn’t expect you so early,” he mumbles, peering into the bag. 

You slap his hands away, and it makes him smile. He thinks maybe he can do this after all.

Then, when you open the bag and hand him his bagel with salmon spread, his favorite, he sees a little diamond twinkling on his finger and he sits down hard at the kitchen table.

You don’t seem to notice that the world seems to be tilting on its axis, just sit across from him, pushing the bagel closer to him.

“Eat. You look hungover.”

“I’m not...much,” he admits, thinking that the fourth glass of wine at dinner had maybe been a bad idea.

Yoongi eats mechanically and you don’t speak much, just watch him with an eagle eye.

When he’s finished, he meets your eyes.

“So, what’s up?”

“What’s up?” You huff out a breath. “You’ve been avoiding me for like, three years, and all you can ask is what’s up?”

Yoongi sputters. “I haven’t been...what are you talking about?”

“You like friends with benefits broke up with me and then kept cancelling all our dates and then you just walked out when I saw you at work.” You’re looking up at him, chin upturned like you’re angry, and all he can do is open and close his mouth like a fish.

“I didn’t...I didn’t mean to,” is all he can say, and he really didn’t. He just couldn’t keep spending time with you without wanting to kiss you and he thought that would pass but all this time, three fucking years and he’s barely seen you and all he can do now is wonder if you still taste the same.

“I just...I miss you, Yoongi. There’s some really big stuff happening in my life and you’ve always been there for it, and I want you here for this.”

“Oh,” Yoongi says, as if you’d splashed him with ice cold water. “Oh, yeah, you’re getting married.”

You beam at him, a real smile, that smile he’d been chasing his whole life, and instead of it breaking his heart it makes something like rage churn in his stomach.

“There’s no date, or anything, Jaehyun says-”

“I’m not coming to the wedding,” Yoongi says, getting up to throw away the napkin too aggressively, needing to do something with his hands. It feels like that night you left, all this anger rolling around him in useless waves.

“Yoongi….why not?” You stand up, follow him into the kitchen, and he’s just clenching his fingers at his sides, not looking at you.

“You never had a steady boyfriend that you gave a shit about,” Yoongi starts, and he honestly doesn’t mean to say it, doesn’t mean to say any of the things he says. “Even in college, that Jungkook kid, he was just a fun time, somebody to piggy back you around campus and make you feel good about yourself. I got that. I understood that. It was like that in high school, too.”

“Yoongi-”

“And then you told me you loved me.” Yoongi turns to look at you then and you’ve got your head down, shoulders slumped.

“Yoongi,” you say again, mournfully, but he can’t stop, it’s all pouring out of him now.

“You told me you loved me and I was so happy and then you just fucking left!” He’s shouting now and he lowers his voice, takes a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. I just...I’m not coming, okay?”

“Yoongi, you don’t understand,” you start, taking a step toward him, but he jerks when you touch his arm.

Everything feels like too much, his head too loud, the air too thin, but he feels like this needs to happen or he’ll explode, like if he doesn’t ask you that he’ll lose his mind and just hide in Hoseok’s apartment forever.

“I don’t understand,” he agrees. “I don’t understand because I thought you just didn’t do relationships, you just didn’t fall in love. You didn’t do commitment. That made sense to me. All this time, that’s how I felt better. But it isn't that at all. You just didn’t fall in love with me.” 

His voice breaks and he hates himself for it, hates himself more for the moisture at the backs of his eyes.

“That’s not true!” You cry, and when he looks at you, there are tears streaming down your face. 

His head is spinning and he doesn’t know how to answer you but he doesn’t have to, you just step closer and closer.

“I fell in love with you so many times,” you say, and Yoongi chokes on air, has to cough to clear his throat enough to take in another breath. “But you know me, Yoongi, I’m...I’m a mess. I’m a mess and I couldn’t risk…” You take in a deep shuddering breath.

“What are you talking about?” He asks, voice low and hoarse, and he can’t stop himself from reaching out to cup your cheek. “You’re not a mess.”

“I’m the biggest mess!” You cry, sniffling. “I’ve always been the biggest mess and you made me happy when no one else could and I couldn't...I couldn’t ruin that. I couldn’t ruin us. I couldn’t ruin you.”

“Y/n, you idiot, you’ve ruined me ten times over since the day I met you.” Yoongi says fondly, smiling, and you chuckle through your tears. When you move your hand to wipe your face, that diamond catches his eye again and he draws in a long breath. “If you want me to come to the wedding, I’ll be there.”

You look up at him, sharply, almost like you’re angry. “Yoongi. You’re the idiot. There’s not going to be a wedding.”

You lean up on your tiptoes to kiss him and he feels like he’s slammed back into his body for the first time in years.

27

There is a wedding, after all. You look beautiful in white and his palms are cold and sweaty just like when he’d pinned on your corsage at prom when he slides on your ring.

You don’t seem to mind, giving him that big open smile that he’ll spend the rest of his life chasing.

[thechangeling]

Enough.

So a while ago I made a headcannon post about Ty's sexuality and the autistic exploration of sex and sexual desire. I have now written a fic about it. This ones for Alex @bedspells my very own Alyssa. Also side note I want to make it clear that yes, I still ship kitty 100%. But I've seen plenty of people write fics and headcannons about Kit exploring things with other people. There's no reason why Ty can't do the same.

Edit: Ok a long time ago this fic actually got a hate comment on Ao3 saying that I was erasing Ty's sexuality by having him hook up with a girl because he was cannonly gay due to a tweet CC made in 2013. Now I don't even have twitter and I wasn't a part of the fandom back then. Despite all of that I actually don't really consider that to be the basis of canon? And in the books he doesn't really express interest in anyone except for Kit. So as far as I'm concerned this was fair game. Not to mention gay people sometimes experiment before they realize they're gay. Especially autistic people!! And that was actually kind of the point of this fic. So maybe just keep that in mind going forward. Thanks!

Tw for mentions and discussions of sex.

Ty could count the instances he hadn't been bothered by another person's touch on one hand. This was certainly one of them. It was so late into the night it could certainly be considered the next morning. Anush, Ty and Alyssa had been doing research on Livvy and the effect she seemed to be having on a serge of demonic activity in the area.

Ty was fairly stressed about the possibility to say the least. It felt like everything was spilling away from him. Livvy, his family, his career.

Kit.

He really didn't want to think about Kit but it was difficult. It was like trying to ignore a bleeding wound that everyone kept referring to as a paper cut.

The shining lights in all of this were Anush and Alyssa. Befriending both of them had been the best part of coming to the scholomance.

Especially Alyssa.

Meeting someone who shared some of his thoughts, feelings and experiences was more then refreshing. It was liberating. Talking, laughing and crying with Alyssa about the things that no one else would understand was like a balm for Ty's soul.

At a certain point Anush had announced that he was retiring to bed and they should both probably do the same. Livvy was still floating around the room observing their work. But as time went on Ty had stopped paying as much attention to her. Now he was resting against Alyssa with his head in her lap. She was sitting on the couch in the library, carefully running her fingers through his hair and rambling on about something, Ty wasn't exactly sure what.

Ty reached up to wrap a lock of her long dark hair around his finger, then watched it spring back into place again. Alyssa's hair was wavy but not curly like- like some peoples. So it didn't spring and bounce very well. That was the interesting thing about Ali in general. So many parts of her dress and appearance were so neat and polished and well put together that Ty almost wondered what it would be like to see her more disheveled. What would it be like to grab and twist and pull until she was left with something that wasn't glossy perfect waves.

Ty panicked a little at that thought. Where exactly had that come from? He was now more then ever painfully aware of the fact that he was lying in an attractive person's lap. And his sister was still in the same room.

Ty looked up to search for Livvy but realized that she was gone. Guiltily he realized she could have been gone for awhile now. But he hadn't noticed. Lately he had been feeling further and further away from his twin and he hated it.

"Do you think stars have feelings?" Alyssa asked wistfully. Ty laughed joyfully, feeling so light and and so far away from every bad thing that had happened three years ago.

"Because I was just thinking," she continued. "Like, what if they're lonley you know?" Ty had to smile at the Alyssa charm of it all. Also the autistic perspective might have had something to do with it.

"I don't know," Ty said, sitting up. "Maybe they're like us. Maybe they like being alone." Alyssa pondered this for awhile.

"Well no one can be alone forever," she pointed out, then laughed, rolling her eyes. "God how did we get here? Remember when we were supposed to be doing actual work Ty?"

"Well we were stupid to think that would last," Ty announced matter of factly. Alyssa shrugged and leaned back against the sofa.

"Probably. Once the neurotypical left it was all downhill from there."

"I disagree, Ty said softly, meeting her gaze. "I enjoy spending time with you." Alyssa instantly smiled, the kind of beautiful, honest, heartfelt smile that allistic people wrote poetry about.

Instantly Ty was reminded of someone else, another brilliant smile.

He shook it off.

"Me too," Alyssa finally answered. Then she shook her head. "Ugh feelings. Gross."

Ty rolled his eyes at her and laughed.

Then Alyssa sat up again as she seemed to remember something. "Oh yeah I meant to ask you about Anush. Do you like him?"

Ty shrugged. "Yeah he's really nice. He's become a good friend."

Alyssa shook her head. "No, no Ty, I mean-" She paused. "I mean do you like him like you wanna date him? Or do you have romantic feelings for him?" She asked.

Ty paused. He honestly wasn't sure. He had been trying to avoid thoughts of those types of feelings for a very specific reason. A Herondale reason. But the truth was he did like really like Anush. He enjoyed being around him. Ty just wasn't sure what that meant.

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "Maybe." Alyssa fiddled with her hair, rubbing it between her fingers.

"Hmm. Well do you even like boys?" She asked. "I just realised I've known you for five months now and I dont really know what your deal is," she said contemplating. "Like sexual orientation wise. I mean not that it matters, it totally doesn't," she stammered.

Ty shrugged. "It was never really relevant before. But I'm not really sure. I guess I'm fine with whatever." Alyssa beamed.

"So I guess that means you're kinda like me huh? She said happily. "I'm pansexual. Women are so beautiful and angelic and soft and squishy and awesome, but men can be good too," she mused. "I mean men are......men, but some of them aren't so bad. I mean look at you!" Alyssa tossed her hair back over her shoulder.

"Thanks," Ty responded dryly.

"Anyways you know what I mean," Alyssa waved her hand. "So are you attracted to him at least?" Ty sighed.

"Yeah I am," he admitted. "But I don't- I don't want a relationship Ali. I just can't."

Alyssa studied him for a moment. "Does this have anything to do with the Herondale pendent you wear that you always tell me never to ask questions about?"

Ty scowled. "Yes, but I don't want to talk about it." Alyssa rolled her eyes and put her hands up in surrender.

"Fucking shit fuck! Fine!" She complained. "Anyways, my point is you dont need to date him neccesarily. Just have sex with him and see how you feel?"

Ty sat up and faced her. "What?"

Alyssa laughed. "You heard me. There's nothing wrong with causal sex between consenting adults. I mean, if you want to."

Ty felt the urge to stand up to try and aliviate some of the anxiety he was feeling, but he stayed sitting.

"I've never done it before," he admitted. Ty was 19, he knew most of the people his age had already had some sort of sexual experience. But he had always been too afraid. Too afraid of people touching him and demanding things from him with harsh vague bullshit. In Ty's mind it was just another social interaction that he could screw up and then pay the price for it.

Alyssa shrugged. "It's no big deal. Virginity is just a social construct anyways." Alyssa was playing with her hair casually and biting her lip slightly, to indicate that she was mulling something over.

Ty shook his head trying to explain it. "No, it's- I mean see, you say that, but, one of the things I've learned about this world is that social constructs kind of matter to a lot of people." Ty was taping his fingers against his leg and trying to stop himself from shaking. Alyssa noticed this.

"Because people tell you that's it's no big deal and not to worry, and then other people make it into a big deal like it means something, and then everyone's telling you to do something different," Ty explained with a panicked, rushed voice. "I don't know who you listen to, or what to do!" He was moving his hands frantically while he spoke to emphasize his points.

"Hey it's ok," she cooed, inching towards him. "Trust yourself. Or if you feel like you can't, then trust me." Ty felt a pang in his chest. A cacophony of conflicting emotions erupted within him. But mostly he found that despite his better judgement he actually believed her.

They had created something different between the two of them. Something that almost transcended labels or rules or traditional allistic boundaries. Alyssa was like the armor he put on every morning, with the strength and confidence that he wasn't alone in this world. In the midst of all of their jokes and late night heartbreaking conversations. In the midst of this fragile peace they had created, there was something there. Something indescribable.

Something like the sound of the page being turned in one of his Sherlock novels, or the sound of their favourite songs. A connection. A lifeline.

Ty looked over at Alyssa's concerned face and smiled softly. "I trust you," he promised. "I don't really trust many people, but I've always trusted you," he admitted. Alyssa inhaled sharply. She made an interesting facial expression that might have been a facial stim and then gaped for awhile before finally closing her mouth and avoiding Ty's gaze.

"Yeah that's cool. I trust you too," she said casually. She had gone back to pulling at her poor hair which was shedding everywhere. Anush always joked that he could always tell where Alyssa was by following the trail of hair.

"So, about the whole sex thing," she continued rather unceremoniously. Ty had to laugh a little. "Do you think it's something you're actually interested in? Or do you just feel like you have to?" She asked.

Ty pondered this for a moment. "I think I might want to. I just want to be with someone that I trust. Someone who will be considerate of my boundries, you know?" Ty did a quick glance around the room to make sure Livvy was still gone.

"Wait she's not here right?" Alyssa asked anxiously, catching on. Ty shook his head.

Alyssa paused for a moment, looking lost in thought. She was flicking her fingernails against each other and continuing to murder her bottom lip by chewing on it. Finally she looked up at him, looking rather amused.

"Ok. This might just be the exhaustion talking, or the autism, or a combination of both. So if you feel uncomfortable with what I'm about to say, then afterwards we can just forget it ok?" Alyssa sounded serious. Ty just nodded, trying not to be concerned.

Alyssa gave him an interesting look, one that he was pretty sure he had never recieved before. Her eyes scanned him up and down, then she smirked.

"I could potentially offer my services," she said innocently. Ty blinked a few times, then continued to stare at her. She stared back unflinching.

Wait. What?

Ty shook his head in confusion. "Hold on. Wait. You mean-?" He cut himself off. Alyssa nodded with that same smirk. "Yeah I mean why not right?" She shrugged, relaxing back against the sofa. "But if you dont want to then that's totally fine."

"Wait." Ty attempted to clear his head and stay focused. He stayed frozen for awhile, thinking. Then he folded his arms around himself, applying pressure. "Why exactly?"

Alyssa shrugged again. "Well why not? You're hot. I'm hot, and besides you know me," she pointed out. She paused, and then giggled.

"Four hours into investigating the paranormal phenomenon of his dead twin sister and chill, then she offers to take his virginity," she cackled. "I so enjoy our quality time together."

"The way your mind works really concerns me sometimes, you know that?" He asked playfully. Alyssa rolled her eyes at him and shoved him gently.

"Hey you don't have to, it was just an idea," she said, raising her hands in defense. Ty was silent. He was still thinking about it.

"Most people don't really do stuff like this right?" He asked warily. "Like most friends don't just randomly hook up and then laugh it off later."

Alyssa shook her head slowly. "Honey do you see me laughing?"

Ty was conflicted. There was something in him, a new, complicated feeling. A burning desire that nagged at the back of his mind everytime Alyssa bit her lip or pouted.

If he was really honest with himself. Ty could remember another time when he felt this way. But that was different, that was-.

He shook his head. No. Ty wasn't thinking about that anymore. He needed a distraction.

"God I can practically hear you thinking over here Ty," Alyssa teased. "Listen. If it freaks you out to much then we can forget about it. But-." She paused and reached towards him. Their fingertips met and she slowly dragged her fingertips down the top of Ty's hand.

"I want to do this for you because I care about you," she said solemnly. "I want make you feel good. Because you're special, and I dont mean that in the bullshit ableist way. I mean I think that you're special because you have such a big heart and you care so much," she said with a laugh.

Ty felt like he was about to cry. He was taking in long deep breaths trying not to get overwhelmed. He didnt know how to respond to this, this kind of attention and praise. His heart felt warm and tight absorbed in so much fondness and melancholy and regret all at once.

He knew this wasn't anything like what had happened that day on the beach. This wasn't that kind of love that he was feeling for Alyssa and that was a good thing. Romantic love, he decided, was too complicated.

"You deserve good things and good experiences. You deserve to have your first time be somewhere familiar. Somewhere you feel safe, and with someone who loves you." Alyssa wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.

"God sorry for getting all emotional like that," she joked.

Ty couldn't speak, so he just squeezed her hand. He hoped she would understand.

I love you too.

Ty took a breath, then nodded. "Yeah," he admitted. "Yeah I want that. I want you."

Alyssa exhaled, then grinned. "Ok then. Great. I'll see if I can pencil you in sometime this week," she joked. Ty cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"Oh," he murmered, suprised with how disappointed he felt. "You mean later?" Alyssa laughed.

"Well yeah, I mean aren't you tired?"

"Are you?" Ty countered.

Alyssa shrugged. "Hey you know how it is, autistic sleep cycle. I'm gonna be up for awhile. I just figured you might want some time to think."

Ty shook his head. "No I don't want to think anymore. I'm tired of thinking Ali. I'm tired of worrying and overanalyzing everything." His eyes met hers, she seemed a little worried.

She moved closer to him so that she was practically in his lap. "You need a distraction," she said matter of factly. "It's ok." She moved her hands from his arms to grasp his waist.

"Is this good?"

Ty flinched. "More pressure," he replied in a tone that was hopefully not too demanding. Alyssa pressed her fingertips down harder into his skin. A soothing feeling washed over him.

"Good?" She asked, scratching his skin with her fingernails. Ty just nodded, feeling slightly dazed.

Alyssa smiled, lowering herself gracefully into his lap. Everything she did was with precision and grace. Alyssa was a dancer. It was one of her special interests. She had stopped taking lessons a long time ago though because she found it challenging to dance in a group.

She could never copy what everyone else was doing exactly on count when she was supposed to. She was always going off and improvising on her own. There was probably a metaphor in there somewhere.

Alyssa's weight against him was comforting. She was moving her hands up and down his back underneath his shirt while still applying pressure. Ty felt heat beginning to pool in the base of his stomach. He stared at her curiously, taking in her soft curves and her smooth golden skin.

"Can I touch you?" Ty asked, feeling his fingers twitch.

Alyssa moved her hands to his chest. "Sure." She said softly. "Just be careful. Remember pressure and all of that, and try to avoid my stomach area. For some reason it's really sensitive." Ty nodded, instantly reaching for her long wavy dark hair and twisting his fingers around it, pulling slightly. She laughed.

This drew Ty's attention to her mouth. Her lips were cracked and rough looking from Alyssa constantly biting them, but Ty still wanted to kiss her. He had never kissed anyone before. He needed to know what it felt like.

He moved his hands to her shoulders and then to her sides, pulling Alyssa even closer. "Can you teach me how to kiss?" He asked looking her in the eye briefly. She snorted.

"I don't think you'll like it very much," she murmered. "It's not really a good sensory experience. At least not for me. Allistic people seem to like it though."

Ty nodded. "Exactly that's my point," he said, using one hand to cradle the side of her neck. "I need to learn for other people later on." He absentmindedly pressed his thumb into one of the divots in her neck, just to fill the space. Alyssa sighed and dug her fingernails into his chest.

"Ok fine but you're gonna hate the tounge thing," she breathed. She leaned down very slowly and then carefully pressed her lips to Ty's, kissing him softly.

It was a weird sensation but not entirely unpleasant. Ty happily slid his hands back into her hair and began to fiddle with a few thick pieces. Alyssa moved her own hands up his chest to cradle her face, applying pressure with thumbs against his cheekbones.

Alyssa deepened the kiss and slid her tounge into his mouth. Instantly Ty winced and felt every cell in his body seize up. But he didn't stop. He was determined to figure this out. If he wanted to kiss someone who wasn't autistic in the future then he would need to. Ty relaxed his body and kissed her back forcefully, making out with Alyssa until the uncomfortable noise in his head was too much and he broke the kiss.

Ty shook his head and Ali laughed, stroking his hair. "I fucking told you so," she exclaimed. Ty shut his eyes and allowed his breathing to return to normal.

"Ok so that's something we can forget about for now, thank god. The beauty of this whole situation is that we dont have to follow any allistic script for this sort of thing." Ty opened his eyes. Alyssa was watching him carefully, still only centimeters away from his face.

"So is there anything you want to do?" She asked him. "Just tell me and I'll see if we can make it happen."

Ty saw no need to maintain any sort of filter. "Well there are a lot of things actually, but for some reason I really want to bite you," he said pointedly, glancing down at her neck. Alyssa burst out laughing, nearly falling over.

Ty glared at her. "I'm sorry," she gasped breathlessly. "I'm sorry it's just,-," she regained her composure, shaking her head. "I just love how we all used to be the weird kids who growled and hissed at people on the playground if they bothered us and now as adults we're just super kinky. Like it's kind of poetic in a way," she laughed.

Ty rolled his eyes. There was no need to ask what she meant by we. When Alyssa said we, it only referred to one thing.

"I'm sure it's not absolutely every autistic person," he protested. "Also we should move, on account of the fact that this is still a public setting." Alysza's eyes widened as if she had just remembered that.

"Oh right. Shit, as if these people needed any more reasons to hate me. Let's go!" She rolled off of Ty and stood in front if him, holding out her hand. "We can use my room." Ty stayed sitting, taking a moment to fully absorb it all.

He couldn't help but feel the weight of the Herondale pendent against his chest as a heavy reminder. He willed himself not to get distracted. Alyssa smiled at him slightly, almost as if she knew.

"Enough," she said softly.

Ty didn't know what to say to that. He wasn't even sure if their was anything he wanted say. Then finally he understood.

"Enough," he echoed back.

He took her outstretched hand and let her take him away.

@ti-bae-rius @eutony-in-whisper @dianasarrow @dianasarrow @stxr-thxif @talia-lightwood @doitforthecarstairs @thelandunderthehilll @zfoxdraws @waterlillies

[inthehausofholbein]

For the drabble, could you do 19? Thanks!

19. What if one of us was a lesbian?

this ended up so long, but thank you so much! i had such a blast imagining and writing this!

It was a weekend and neither girls had anything to do, so Violetta and Ludmila decided to invite Francesca, Camila, and Naty over. Natalia and Ludmi would be sleeping in Ludmi's bedroom, but they all decided to hang out in Vilu's for the time being.

"Girls, I'm really bored." Fran said. "Do you guys know anything else we can do?"

They thought for a while before Vilu suddenly replied. "Hey, wanna play a game or something?"

"What game?" Ludmila asked.

"What If. Could be fun..."

"Sure. This might get interesting." Naty responded, resting her head on Ludmi's shoulder.

"I'm down. Who knows? Maybe we'll get to... know each other better than we already do." Cami added, pausing as she thought of something.

"Okay, I'll go first. Uh... what if... you were stuck on a deserted island with nothing?"

"What a basic question—" Cami and Ludmi said at the same time, stopping as they realized they did.

"Well, sorry. I'm not feeling that creative today."

"I don't know, I'd probably die one day in." Naty answered the question.

"Actually... yeah, I would too."

"Same." Everyone in the room agreed. They giggled and moved on to the next "what if?" scenario.

"Uhm, what if... what if you died but then became a ghost? What would you do?" Fran asked.

"Interesting." Ludmi replied. "I'd probably haunt everyone I see."

Vilu snorted at this. "Okay, Ludmi. I was just gonna say that I'd watch a bunch of musicals without having to pay or get air sickness."

"That's actually a good answer, Vilu." Cami said. "I couldn't think of anything besides not having to work."

Everyone in the room then laughed. "Camila!"

"What? That would be a fulfilling life for me." She replied, crossing her arms.

"Forever? How pathetic, honestly." Ludmi said teasingly.

"Wait, Fran, did you mean forever or a specific amount of time?"

"Well, I didn't specify, but I'm pretty sure you'd be a ghost forever."

"See?" Ludmila said to Cami, smirking.

"Yeah, yeah." Camila responded, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, what would you do, Fran?"

"Hm, I don't know. I'd probably do the same thing as Violetta."

"Yeah, me too." Naty added.

"I guess all of us would just chill besides Ludmila—"

"Hey."

Camila then burst out laughing. As she was about to stop, she asked Ludmi for her question.

"What if... the world would explode tomorrow and there was no way to stop it?" Ludmila asked in a kind of sarcastic tone, a small pause after every word.

"What's with these questions and death?" Natalia asked.

"I don't know, man. You were the one who brought it up in Violetta's question."

"Okay, I was just being honest."

"Whatever, just answer the question. I would—"

"Aww! They're bantering." Cami squealed, trying to tease the two.

"What do you mean?" They both asked.

"Nothing." Camila giggled.

"Uhh... okay... Hm– I'd probably perform for the last time."

"Same!" Everyone else exclaimed before they all giggled.

"Okay. Nat."

"Uh, hmm. What if you could change anything in your past?"

"Oh my god! Everything! Next question."

"Woah, wait!" Vilu exclaimed. "Ludmi, we haven't answered yet."

"Well, I'm not gonna go through my whole past, so sure, you guys can answer."

"Oh..." Vilu muttered silently, slightly concerned. "W-well, I would say that I'd bring my mom back, but honestly, I wouldn't change anything about it! I don't know what would happen if even one thing would change and I'm just happy with my life right now."

"Oh, how corny!" Ludmi, Cami, and Fran all exclaimed at the same time. Naty just giggled.

"Hey! It's true... but, my mom would be nice." Vilu said, smiling. Fran then hugged her with one arm.

"Well, I would've probably moved to Argentina way earlier."

"Same here." Naty replied.

"Woah, your girls' answers are serious while I was gonna jokingly say that I would've wished to be an only child."

Violetta, Fran, Ludmi, and Naty stared at Camila.

"Jokingly! Jokingly!"

"Well, Camila, time for your question."

"Okay. What if y–" Cami then saw Natalia stroking Ludmi's hair and smirked, seeing an opportunity. "What if one of us was a lesbian?"

Natalia then stopped what she was doing and blushed slightly. "W-what an... interesting question!"

Ludmila also blushed, though much stronger than Naty, and looked nervous. "Yeah... what a random thing to ask after... after all the dark questions."

The other three girls all laughed so hard until everyone in the room was a strong shade of red.

"One– one of us?" Fran asked as she was catching her breath.

"Yeah! Yeah, one—" Cami couldn't but laugh again. "Right, Ludmila and Naty?"

"Right, right! Hypothetically... what if..." Natalia said before nervously giggling herself. Ludmila just fell on the bed, covering her face with one of Violetta's pillows.

Violetta was able to catch her breath when she said, "Fascinating how both of you panicked at that question specifically!"

The two nervous girls had nothing to say, not knowing what to.

The laughter died down and Vilu spoke for them. "Girls! You can tell us anything! We're not gonna judge you for something like that."

"And besides, it's pretty obvious by how... intimate you guys are." Cami added.

"W-well..." Ludmi finally spoke, her eyes slightly watering. "We... are dating—"

"I knew it." Cami muttered before Vilu tapped her knee, noticing Ludmi's worried face.

"Mhm. We have been for a while now. It just that..."

"Her mother isn't the most supportive of girls dating other girls." Naty continued while hugging her... girlfriend... with one arm.

"I'm sorry..." Fran said. "We would have been fully supportive."

"And Priscila's no longer a worry." Vilu added.

"Yeah, well... I guess we just forgot..."

"She wouldn't have even let me step foot inside the house." Naty joked, trying to lighten up the mood.

Ludmi chuckled quietly. "Yeah."

"Well, before Vilu and I started dating, I would always resent my feelings for her." Violetta looked at Fran with a smirk and Fran playfully rolled her eyes. "Anyway, everyone around me told me that they were happy for me when I came out."

"Yeah!" Vilu giggled. "My dad would normally ask for every piece of information about my boyfriends but didn't even question me coming home with Francesca!"

Ludmi giggled, feeling extremely relieved after telling her friends and sister about her and Naty.

"Basically, Ludmi", Camila added, "There are so many people in your life that support you no matter what! Hell! We live in one of the most gay-friendly countries on earth!"

"Exactly, you don't have to be afraid anymore."

Natalia signalled for the other three to join in for a hug. They agreed and basically squished Ludmila.

She screamed out of surprise, but she also smiled, knowing her life was no longer an emotional game.

[kitkat1003]

Tower Tales

5: Just how old are they?  And how are they heating this place?

AO3 link

@asilcorner

Age is a fickle thing, for toons.  Some toons are created old, with a backstory they never lived.  Some toons are made to be adults in their prime, never aging, never older or younger despite the passage of time.  Some are made to be perpetual children, to never grow up.

They fall into that third category.  They think.

See, they were out for a little over half a year.  They had a contract, they did vaudeville shows with a crew of older comedians, many who liked them and one who hated them, and they never reached what one might call a birthday before they were locked up.

The one who hated them, he taught them what it was like to be hated, for someone to despise them that much.  He was the first they knew personally.  They didn’t know that he was a template for everyone else, eventually.  That the whole world would mirror him soon.

“Do you think we’re gonna get older?” Wakko asks one day, out of the blue, and Dot and Yakko glance over at him.

“Why would we?  We’re toons,” Dot responds.

“Yeah, I don’t think we’re made to age,” Yakko agrees, and Wakko shrugs.

“I guess.  I think I just wanted a birthday party.  Cake and ice cream...,” he drools just thinking about it.

“Do we even have a birthday?” Dot asks, and there’s a thought.  They all pause, and Yakko gets a smile on his face that promises something interesting.

“Why not pick one?”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The conversation ends there, but it’s brought up again, later, and Yakko pulls out the calendar one day after lunch.

“You guys thought about it?” He asks, and at their questioning looks he continues.  “The birthday thing.”

Dot shrugs.

“I guess.  It seems weird to just pick one.  We were made, not born.”

Yakko rolls his eyes. “That’s semantics,” he shoots back.

“Your main form of comedy is semantics.” She’s quick to reply.

“Touché.” He grins, because it never gets old to have someone you can go verbally back and forth with.

“I’d like a birthday,” Wakko pops in, and Dot sighs.

“Well, I wanna go first.” She clasps her hands and raises them to her cheek.  “I’m a spring girl, a blossoming flower.”

Yakko makes a face. “That saccharine makes me wilt,” he snarks, and she glares at him.  “How about the first day of spring?” he offers, raising his hands in surrender.  “It’s either the 19, 20, or 21st of March.” 

Dot considers this.

“March is such a boring month.  What about May?  It’s more the month of spring than March.  And the 21st, because I only ever shop at Forever 21!” She strikes a pose.

“Pretty sure that company doesn’t exist yet, so you’re not getting a sponsorship anytime soon.”

“I can try anyway!”

“Didn’t they go bankrupt?  Is this really the hill you want to die on?”

“Yakko!”

“May 21st it is!” Yakko marks it on the calendar with a strained grin, and Dot poses victoriously.  “Wakko?” he asks.  

“I don’t know.  I don’t think I have a favorite season,” Wakko taps his hands on his seat to a random beat, tilting his head to the side.  “Maybe Halloween?  I like getting free candy.” He shrugs.

“Yeah, but then you’d have to share the day with all the trick or treaters!  This is your day,” Dot hops up to stand on her seat.

“October 1st?  Same month as one of your favorite holidays, but far enough away that it won’t steal your thunder,” Yakko suggests, and Wakko thinks for a moment, and then nods.

“Okay, sounds good.”

“Good,” Yakko marks it down.

“What about you, Yakko?” Dot asks, leaning her elbows on the table and propping her head up with her hands.

“I was thinking uhh....December 31st,” He has a specific reason for it, one he isn’t going to share, but as is his siblings don’t need one.

“That’s awfully close to Christmas,” Dot frowns.

“And it’s right before New Years,” Wakko adds.

“I know, I know, but—I just like it.  And besides, what better way to ring in the new year than to celebrate me, huh?” He grins, and Dot rolls her eyes.

“Okay, but it’s kind of hypocritical,” she tells him.

“There goes my place on Santa’s nice list, then, huh,” Yakko writes it down.  

According to when he started marking the calendar, they’ve passed Dot’s birthday and Wakko’s.  He frowns.

“Guess I’m the only one getting a party this year,” he mutters, looking down at the count.  He’d based it off of the last date he could remember before being put in the tower, and how long he thinks they’ve been in here.  The thought makes his frown deepen/

“Dangit!” Dot curses, causing Yakko and Wakko to jump.  “I wanted a party,” it’s a whine.

“It’s not like there’s anyone besides us to celebrate it,” Wakko says it a bit bluntly, a bit morose, a bit matter of fact, and Dot flinches like she’s been hit, and starts to cry.

“Wakko!” Yakko scolds, and Wakko just blinks. “What?  It’s the truth.  I try not to think about it but—” he looks away, unexpectedly numb about the whole affair.  “They’re not gonna let us out just cause it’s our birthday.”

“Just shut up!” Dot shouts.  “Maybe I don’t wanna think about it!” She stomps off, and Wakko watches her leave.

“What’d you do that for?” Yakko asks, because Wakko isn’t dumb.  He knows what he’s saying will hurt.

“I don’t know,” Wakko replies.  “I think I’m just tired of pretending.  I don’t think we’re ever gonna leave.”

And Yakko, well, Yakko didn’t know he had it in him to be angrier at the ones who locked them in here, to hate them all even more, but he does, because the expression of defeat on Wakko’s face should never be there.

“Yeah, but who can throw a party better than the three of us?” He tries, and Wakko smiles a little, hopping off of his stool.  He grabs some food out of the fridge and disappears, likely upstairs to eat and maybe set off some bombs.

Yakko hangs up the calendar, flipping it a page and staring at “Yakko’s Birthday!” written in his typical cursive, on December 31st.

The oldest day in a year, on the cusp of the new one.  Kind of like him—old and young at the same time.  14 and 30, a brother and father, and a million things in between that threaten to tear him half, like every day he’s struggling to be the kid he wants to be and the adult he needs to be.

He’s very tired, for not even a year old in existence.

He finds Dot, teary eyed in her bed, and jokes away her sorrow.  Later, Wakko will apologize—he won’t take back what he said, however.  Because nothing he said was a lie.

Whoever said the truth is better than a lie never lived the life the Warners have.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

See, they’ve been using fire for light, for cooking, for practically anything that requires heat or light, because they can’t figure out how to put in electricity.  They can summon the incidental lightbulbs that appear over their head in the presence of a sudden idea, but those flicker out fast.  They can summon things that require electricity, but to actually use them they need power.

They can tell that it’s nearing winter, because the Tower is getting colder.  Metal doesn’t insulate, and they’ve had to start wearing socks to keep their toes from getting frostbite.  And toons who don’t have to wear shoes being forced to wear things on their feet is a serious form of torture.  Rugs could work, but Dot says that they’re tacky, and so they’re only reserved for certain areas.  Even then, the rugs get cold too.

“We can’t summon an outlet,” Yakko paces back and forth in the first floor living room, and Wakko and Dot watch this both for entertainment but also out of concern, because Yakko takes worrying to a professional level.  “We can make batteries, but those don’t last long.  We don’t have enough toon power yet to make our own electricity...”

“Have we tried drawing one?” Wakko asks.  “You have pens on you all the time,” Yakko looks up, blinks, and slams his fist into his palm.

“That’s got to be it,” He pulls out a calligraphy pen, shuffling over to where they planned to place a TV, and he sits on his knees, sticking his tongue out in concentration.

“Do you know how to draw an outlet?” Dot pipes up from behind him, and Yakko rolls his eyes.

“Of course I know how to draw an outlet!” He responds, as if he’s offended she would even ask, but then he stares at the wall for about a minute and then slumps over.

“So?” She makes sure to add a bit of smugness to her voice.  

“Do you have a picture of one?” He manages, embarrassment tinging his voice.

“I don’t know.  Wakko?”  Wakko searches through his gag bag, and pulls out a book.

“Right here!” He scampers over to Yakko, opening the book to the right page, and then Yakko finally gets to work.

Once the outlet is rather perfectly drawn—those are Yakko’s words, not theirs, and Dot rolls her eyes when he says it.  All they can do is wait and see if it works.

“If this works, I’m using it to straighten my hair before we use it for anything else,” She grins, and Wakko crosses his arms across his chest.

“Hey, I was the one who thought of drawing it!  I want to make some good food.  We won’t have to use the icebox anymore!”

Yeah, they don’t exactly have a fridge.

“Well, I drew it, and I’m the oldest, so I’ll decide what to do with it,” Yakko interrupts the two of them.  He squints at the drawing, and reaches over to add another bolt.

“I thought you said it was perfectly drawn.”

“Everyone’s a critic.” Yakko rolls his eyes, and Dot grins, but they are interrupted by Wakko’s gasp.

“It worked!” He points, and sure enough, where there was once a wall with a drawing is now an outlet.  Yakko wastes no time in pulling out a heater and setting it up.

“We’ll figure out everything else later,” he says, “But we need heat or we’re gonna become popsicles.”

“I’d like to be that tasty,” Wakko rubs his tummy in thought, licking his lips.

“That’s gross, Wakko,” Dot deadpans.

“Eh.” Wakko shrugs.

Yakko shakes his head at the two of them, but he’s smiling.

Electricity makes the entire tower better.  Wakko is most excited about the TV and fridge, and Dot is just glad that she can actually see without having to light a match every two seconds.

Yakko is happy with the fact that they have heat, and that’s his opinion on the matter.

They burn their socks.  It’s a good day.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They’re sturdy, for toons, but they aren’t invincible.  Contrary to popular belief, injuries to toons can occur.  Injury, sickness, etc, it’s all a part of a toon’s life, to a lesser extent, and honestly, Dot is surprised that one of them hasn’t gotten hurt sooner.

The first few months they didn’t do much.  Then they were just getting into the groove, and then they were constantly redecorating, and then there was the talk of birthdays, and then there was the whole electricity debacle.  They haven’t had the time, not yet, to be wild enough to warrant serious injury.  Wakko’s stomach thing doesn’t count, because that wasn’t him being silly so much as it was the dangerous situation.

But, Dot thinks, it was going to happen eventually.  

Wakko goes off on his own more often than they do.  Yakko doesn’t really seem to like alone time, and Dot doesn’t like to be without her siblings for too long.  Even if they’re just background noise, that is more comforting than being alone and knowing they’re on a separate floor.  She does, of course, have days where she needs to be alone, but those are few and far in between.

Wakko likes to be alone.  He has his own adventures, and maybe that’s just in his nature.  The quiet one, to flit in and out of their lives.  She doesn’t like that thought, but it comes unbidden to her some days.  Of course, he hangs out with them more than he spends time alone, but still.  She wonders.

She’s playing with different hairstyles up on the second floor, and Yakko is downstairs,  pouring over the encyclopedia he managed to summon—evidently, he’s a history buff, and it doesn’t not make sense but it doesn’t make sense either—while Wakko messes around on the third floor.

And then, they hear Wakko cry out in pain, and suddenly Yakko is just there.  She doesn’t even think she saw him go up to the second floor before he’s just at the third, because by the time she gets up there he’s already cradling Wakko close.  Wakko keeps trying to reach for his ankle, left leg curled to his chest.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“I-I tripped when I was running to the canon, and my ankle hurts!” Wakko cries, whimpering, and Yakko shushes him, soft.

“It looks twisted,” she whispers, more to herself than anything else.

Yakko turns his head to her sharply. “What do we do?” he asks, as if she would know.  She shrugs.

“I dunno!  I think—don’t you ice stuff like that?  At the very least he should lay down,” she fumbles for a solution, but Yakko takes it, nodding and picking Wakko up.

“Sound good, buddy?” he asks.  Wakko buries his face in Yakko’s chest in response, and Yakko’s frown deepens.

Dot gets the ice pack while Wakko gets situated, rushing over to wrap it around his ankle.  He hisses at the cold, but relaxes as the numbing feeling takes effect.

“Better?” Yakko asks, and Wakko nods.

“Sorry,” Wakko shrugs, sheepish.

“Be more careful next time!” Dot scolds, but not too harshly.  The last thing they need is Wakko crying because she was rude.  Yakko already looks stressed enough.

They give Wakko dinner in bed, even though technically they’d agreed not to do so since they’re sharing a bed, because this is just an exception. Dot practically bullies Wakko into being careful and clean while he eats.

“If I feel a single crumb on my side of the bed, I’m coming for you,” she pokes him in the chest once, and Wakko chuckles nervously and nods.

Once Wakko and Yakko are asleep, Dot hops out of bed to the dining room table.  She pulls out a book—one on first aid.  The last thing she needs is another situation like this, where one of her brothers is hurt and she doesn’t know the solution.  She opens the tome, and gets to work.

Yakko finds her there hours later, asleep and drooling on the book.  He carefully pulls it out from underneath her, and carries her to bed.  He glances at the cover.  First aid?

Well, isn’t that useful.  He knew his sister was smart.

He dog ears her page and flips back to the beginning, skimming through the page as he gets ready to make breakfast.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Time continues to move onward.

They decorate for Christmas.  They celebrate Yakko’s birthday, and then the New Year, and then every holiday after that.  Yakko discovers Shakespeare and nearly bores his siblings to death with it.  Wakko makes weirder and weirder combinations of food, as well as elaborate machines that serve little purpose.  Dot learns how to use makeup after many, many attempts that leave her brothers in stitches, and styles her hair a million ways.

The world goes on without them, but, well, they move on without the world. Turnabout’s fair play, after all.