#i want u all to know there were shitty graphics that went with this

[everyones-least-favorite-bard]

this is just a collection of highlights from my last Goofy Presentation Night in which i discussed (read: forced my audience to listen to) orv/yhk thoughts for two hundred and ten minutes

ill add more and rb/tag accordingly n stuff later bc its a lot of words to post and i am one very eepy boy

ON DOKSOO

In 1973, Ursula LeGuin wrote the short story The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas, which, if you’ve been around the English side of ORV fandom for long enough, might recognize due to jomeimei, our yhk scholar’s writings. If you don’t know it, the basic premise of the work is that there exists in some far-flung imagined world, a utopia called Omelas that is perfect in every way, save for the fact that its perfection is maintained via the constant suffering of a small child. (One can surmise from the title of course, that there are those who upon learning this, choose to leave the city and live elsewhere.)

One of the ways this intersects with ORV comes in the Epilogues and what happened to the Avatar of Han Sooyoung living in the 1863rd round. The Han Sooyoung of that round, if you recall, found post-suicide attempt Kim Dokja in the “real” world while looking for the author of Three Ways. Judging by her reactions, we see she has two epiphanies:

EPIPHANY ONE: There was no tls123. It was nearing the end of the year that Three Ways was published (in her and Kim Dokja’s memories), but the novel had not been published yet. The only people with knowledge of the original Three Ways timeline in the world were herself and the Dokkaebi King. If she didn't do anything, if she simply sat back and let the year finish out, she could leave WOS as an unpleasant memory and nothing more. She could save the world.

EPIPHANY TWO: Kim "Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined World saved my life" Dokja would not survive without that story.

She is faced with the same dilemma those who left Omelas were faced with: does she condemn the world to save this child, or does she save the world but condemn this child?

Let's leave that thought to simmer for a while.

Now the moral quandary that she’s dealing with is similar in structure to the Trolley Problem. (Which, if the reader of this has been living blissfully unexposed to 20th century philosophy and 21st century bastardizations of such, is a moral thought experiment in which a tram is headed down a track towards five people, with a lever allowing one to switch the tracks placed before the subject. However, the second track has one person on it who will also surely die from a direct hit by the trolley. Does the subject choose action or inaction?)

And this decision, which, according to other iterations of the Trolley Problem (in which the one person is someone the subject knows and cares about) is still not even in line with those theories or justifications.

ORV is utterly rife with these sort of fun moral messes. There are countless moments in which characters are faced with needs-of-the-many versus needs-of-the-few. Kim Dokja, for one, is perhaps most memorable for these given his propensity for (continuing with the Trolley Problem metaphor) throwing himself onto the track before the tram can reach the fork.

The events of the 1863rd round (and its aftereffects) are the most direct parallel of the experiment. 

As has been established, Han Sooyoung of the 1863rd round only knew Kim Dokja for a week, if even that, and yet she is fully willing to burn the world to make sure a life in which he might be happy is given to him. This decision is even further warped when we consider that the moment of her epiphany(s) is not the first time this Han Sooyoung was faced with the Trolley Problem.

We know that (based on the conversations she has with Kim Dokja) in the 1863rd round, Han Sooyoung was operating in a utilitarian space in order to seamlessly complete the scenarios. She chose to sacrifice Yoo Joonghyuk and put him in the position of a “villain” (thereby making him spiritually “dead” to all his loved ones and peers) in order to make sure she made a perfect run. And arguably she did–upon arriving in the 1863rd round Kim Dokja (loathe though he is to admit it) cannot find fault with how she has completed the scenarios thus far, and is even (if I remember correctly) somewhat jealous of her for being able to orchestrate such a clean run.

But instead of working with her to finish her run, to draw the period marking the end of the story she’s made, Kim Dokja’s desire to save Yoo Joonghyuk outweighs his desire to save the world, and he steps in and tears it into a comma. (Yes, I’m deliberately referencing the epilogues. No, I haven’t stopped thinking about the fucking period/comma scene. Don’t talk to me.) He switches the lever back to the track with five people because he refuses to sit back and allow the one man to die.

Now, based on what we see of Han Sooyoung in this round and her immediate reaction to Kim Dokja’s dickery, she would have continued operating in her ends-justify-the-means space. She obviously does to some extent as she reaches the end of the scenarios and wrangles the Dokkaebi King into granting her a wish. Upon arriving in the “real” world she is fully prepared to kill tls123 and save the world. But she doesn’t, she has the key to saving the world in her hands, she could so very easily keep Yoo Joonghyuk from suffering a thousand lives, she could save billions of people and live a wildly successful life as a famous webnovel author but! She! Doesn’t!

Why?

Imagine for a moment, if you will, sitting in a hospital room across from a fifteen year-old boy, sleeping or unconscious, fresh from a suicide attempt. Imagine for a moment, if you will, having met this fifteen year-old boy in another life when he was no longer quite so small or physically close to death, but was equally (if not more) close to it in spirit. Imagine for a moment, if you will, knowing the exact thing that will keep this boy if not happy, then at least surviving, for long enough that you might meet him again. Imagine for a moment, if you will, knowing that withholding that thing is certain death for this boy.

How could she condemn him then? How could she, after knowing the depth with which he will love and will fight to save those he wants to save, leave him here to die, alone?

We see therefore, that as a result of her interaction with Kim Dokja, that she is fundamentally changed in her worldview: she is no longer utilitarianally or unilaterally doling out unambiguous justice, sacrificing Yoo Joonghyuk for the world, but rather sacrificing the world now for Kim Dokja. 

It is by this that we know that written into the very condemnation of the world that Kim Dokja uses to justify his consistent self-flagellation is a story of love. Han Sooyoung does not walk away from Omelas--no, she reaches in and says to that lonely, suffering child, I will save you. I will love you as you are. The three ways to survive in a ruined world have always, always been love.

[inhibitionfreewriting]

r u a noah kahn enjoyer? not sure if ur taking requests rn but northern attitude for ludwig

oh not this song make me feel a lot of emotions 😳 okay.

listen. i've never heard this song until you suggested it. first of all, thank you for the suggestion. second of all, my heart vomited this up but i like it.

there will be AT LEAST a part 2 because when i got to where i got to i was like okay time to put it down and look at this again tomorrow. this is my version of putting down a piece of art to look at mistakes tomorrow, except i'll be writing more tomorrow.

-- PART 1 --

You and Ludwig hadn't seen each other in a few years, a fall out due to graduation and time. It's funny, they say you'll lose the friends you made in high school but the ones in college are friends for life, yet here you were with one of your friends from high school asking you how you knew Ludwig.

"We went to college together. We were study buddies, how do you know Ludwig?"

"He's a streamer - how do you," she stopped and put the picture frame down. "How do you not know that? You're online, like, all the time?" You shrugged. You were on your computer all the time but you worked on graphic design, you weren't necessarily on the internet. Half the time you just listened to music.

The curiosity gets to you though, would he remember you? You certainly remembered him - plenty of nights in one of your rooms, working on homework together, a night or two drinking shitty wine and watching a movie. A love found but lost.

you: hey ludwig not sure if you still have my number but we were friends in college, heard you are a big streamer now, good use of an english degree lol

An olive branch, a life line, even. You put your phone down, either he'd delete it because you seem like some random fan or he had your number blocked. Within minutes though, you had a reply.

Ludwig: how could i forget you i wouldn’t have passed biology without you. glad SOMEONE appreciates my english degree; usually i’m roasted for it 💀

You laughed. You made fun of him for it from the moment you met him, it made sense that everyone else did too. Conversation flowed easily. You couldn't remember the last time you laughed so hard, and honestly, he couldn't either. It was easy for you two to fall back into a rhythm, like it had only been a weekend apart.

Ludwig: would you ever want to get lunch or something?

He would never admit to how long it took to get the courage to ask, just as you would never admit how little thought you put into your 'yes of course!' reply.

--

Just a few days later and you were walking into a little café with him standing up to greet you and banging his knee into the table, yelping.

"Oh my god you didn't have to stand, I'm not the president," you laughed, crossing the distance and embracing him in a long awaited hug. He returned it, shrugging off your comment and for the first moment of many today, it felt like nothing had changed at all. Ludwig's arms tight around you, he still smelled like the same mix of deodorant and cologne. Something akin to a forest, teakwood... maybe birch. Something generic but home to you.

"It's good to see you," his voice was quiet in your hair, almost lost. There was a pounding in his chest that made his hands sweat and when you pulled away he anxiously rubbed his palms against his jeans. You both sat, your bag sliding between your feet at the table and conversation flowed like a waterfall.

How has life been? How are your folks? Do you still talk to anyone from school? How do you like streaming? What's been the best part of the experience? Are you in love with anyone? What do you do now, for work? Do you like it? Do you still go to the movie theater? Do you still think of me when you watch Crimson Peak?

"Do you still have that stuffed chipmunk I won you?" He leaned back in his seat and knocked his feet into yours. Suddenly, the embarrassment bubbled up onto your face, cheeks getting hot-hot-hot and he noticed. "If you don't it's okay."

"No I- I do. I uh," you felt like you were going to pass out, Ludwig leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, a shit-eating grin sliding onto his face. "I still sleep with it? It just. Lives on my bed." He wanted to tease you about it, keeping such a stupid memento for the past, what 5-6 years? But any comment was caught in his throat. "Well, say something already! I know you want to!"

"I-I'm just happy you still have it... would have thought you'd toss it out or somethin'," he found it hard to look you in the eyes, choosing to look at the cup on the table.

"How could I ever throw Mr. Stripes out? He was basically our mascot to get through tests. He's my good luck charm." You knocked your foot into his a few times, light taps and he looked back up at you with an almost nervous smile.

Hours had passed, drinks and snacks had come and gone. Your volume had only gotten louder and the laughter more rambunctious. One of the employees came over and Ludwig wiped the tears from his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, we're about to close for the rest of the day. Do either of you maybe want anything to go?" You shook your head, finally calming down from laughter.

"Thank you, I'm okay. Lud?"

"I'm good too," he shook his head, standing up. "Sorry if we deterred any customers, didn't mean to be so loud." The worker shook her head with a pleasant smile.

"It was nice to see you and your girlfriend on such a nice date."

"Oh we're not-" "We're not dating."

"Oh! I'm so sorry. Anyway - we close in a few minutes. We hope to see you two again." She left before you could reassure her it was fine and not an issue but Ludwig was holding his hand out like you need the help to stand up. You take his hand regardless after grabbing your bag.

"You uh, wanna come back to my place?"

"Sure."

[deztincoric]

annual austin and ally fearsome four headcanons!!! (finalized now ^_~)

+ kira and carrie bc i love them too

descriptionz in more detail under the cut \^_^/

Ally

-Ally’s design is based very off her style in season one, she will always be soft colors and jean jackets to me ‘u’

- She’s wearing a guitar pick necklace, given to her by Austin :)

- They use they/she pronouns

- She's panromantic and asexual (thanks to that one person in my notes on my first hcs post, you opened my eyes, so so real).

- She was the last of the fearsome four to come out. She comes out publicly before Austin does.

- She’s a demigirl but she’s not super open about it. They won’t deny it or anything but she’s doesn’t talk about it very often.

- Ally is autistic with a special interest in music (obviously). She has misophonia (hc based on that episode where she has to fire Dallas).

- Ally and Kira are dating. Kira fell first and was the first to confess.

- They definitely listen to mostly indie pop music and I refuse to take criticism on that.

- Top Albums/Songs: Stranger in The Alps - Phoebe Bridges, Kissing Lessons - Lucy Dacus, the masquerade - mxmtoon.

Austin

- Austin is another one whose design is heavily influenced by his season one style. I don’t know why but Austin is just the color red to me so I don’t think I’ve ever drawn him in a different outfit before. His design is the only consistent one of the four XD

- Also I love making him have a shitty bleach job instead of naturally blond because it just fits him I think.

- His ears are pierced because he thought it would be cool, he and Dez went to Claires for the first set, the other two were done at an actual place. Ally told Austin about how bad piercing his ears at Claire's is after he had already gotten done - so his second and third ear piercings were done at a real piercer.

- He uses he/him pronouns although he doesn’t mind when people use they/them for him.

- He’s bisexual and the third of the fearsome four to come out.

- He and Ally broke up because they both lost feelings and their relationship was originally based on feeling like they had to date because of how closely they were working together (they just both catch feelings easily). It was a consensual decision that they would be better off as friends.

- He and Dez are dating, Dez obviously fell first but Austin confessed first.

- He and Dez always had a “not friends or best friends but a third thing” going on, their friendship was always a bit deeper than just being best friends but they didn’t acknowledge or explore it until after high school.

- They keep their relationship totally private for a while since he thinks neither Trish nor Ally can keep a secret. Austin isn’t public with their relationship for a long while since he didn’t want to come out publicly (as in to like fans).

- Austin has ADHD and he takes meds to help with focusing.

- He’s hyperfixated on the history of pop music, when the show started it was guitar but after making pop for so long it kind of evolved into pop music in general then into the history of pop music.

- He listens to pop and 2010s radio music (as in music that was on the radio a lot so mostly pop but there are some exceptions). And Waterparks, Austin loves Waterparks.

- Top Albums: Double Dare - Waterparks, Fine Line - Harry Styles, Doo-Waps & Hooligans - Bruno Mars.

Dez

- Dez will never have a consistent outfit, it is always different but his style doesn’t really change throughout the series so it doesn’t matter too much. Loud colors, absurd patterns, and graphic tees (me fr tbh).

- His ears are pierced, done by Carrie in the cafeteria of their high school. He also has a stick and poke on their ankle done by her although it’s very faded. (From experience they’re rarely done right and will disappear rq).

- Dez uses all pronouns: he, she, they, xe, it, neopronouns - it doesn’t matter. People tend to use he/him for them but honestly, she wants people to mix it up more (projecting a bit XD)

- They’re nonbinary :3

- He’s gay and demirose (demiaroace) (projecting again). It was the first to come out of the fearsome four, coming out as bisexual sometime in middle school. It wasn’t until late high school that Dez realized they were actually gay and then didn’t realize he was demirose until a lot later.

- Dez and Carrie dated for like two weeks before they realized they weren’t actually into each other romantically, their relationship helped solidify that Dez is gay and Carrie is a lesbian (before either knew they weren’t cis btw, enby ppl are obvi included in both of their identities). They fake-dated through the rest of high school though. It kept Carrie closeted (with the added bonus that guys at her work wouldn’t hit on her as often) and it kept Dez’s thing for Austin under wraps.

- Trish found out that Dez was into Austin relatively early on in their friendship through observation and then interrogating him.

- Dez and Austin are dating, and Dez fell first. He has had a crush on him since like the 5th grade but they didn’t date until after high school.

- He has AuDHD (Autism and ADHD). His special interest is film techniques and they’re hyperfixated on Zaliens. They are a big fan of chewlry, usually wearing a chewlry necklace.

- Dez will listen to anything but his favorites are in the alternative genres.

- Top Albums: Spirit Phone - Lemon Demon, Artists vs Turtles - Epic Rap Battles of History, Hot Freaks - Hot Freaks.

- Dez is an Annoying Orange and Fred enjoyer, it’s the truth (sorry not sorry).

Trish

- Trish isn’t fully based on any of her styles but I think it fits her ^o^ I like this one way more than any of the other ones I’ve done.

- She has a nose stud and a septum as well as ear piercings (she’s had her ears pierced since she was a baby). She also has a navel piercing, the stud is a heart. Typically she wears gold hoops with her outfits.

- She uses she/her pronouns.

- She’s a lesbian and was the second of the fearsome four to come out. She came out to Dez before anyone else (they were talking about identity crises, Dez told her about Carrie and she came out to him). She came out to Ally and then Austin shortly after.

- She and Jace stayed friends. They didn’t talk for a little while after they broke up but are on good terms now. They talk pretty frequently now.

- Trish listens to mainly rap, R&B, and pop (also mostly female artists. not on purpose it just sort of happens lol).

- Top Albums: Hot Pink - Doja Cat, Ones - Selena, Somethin’ ‘Bout Kreay - Kreayshawn.

- She’s very invested in celebrity drama and talks about celebrities like she knows them personally. Ex: “Did you hear about what Justin did?” (referring to Justin Bieber).

Kira

- Kira’s outfit isn’t my favorite, it’s a little boring I think but she’s very teal and flowy material to me so I incorporated that. I think she’d like lace a lot too (although I didn’t incorporate it into her outfit).

- She wears dangling earrings but rarely hoops.

- She uses she/her pronouns.

- She is bisexual and out publicly.

- Kira and Ally are dating, Kira fell first and confessed first too. Kira started to develop feelings for her near Beach Clubs & BFFs (the KirAlly propaganda episode <333).

- She mainly listens to pop (as is the meta for characters in this show l _ l ).

- Top Albums/Songs: Dancing in the Kitchen - LANY, Ocean Eyes - Owl City, One of the Boys - Katy Perry.

Carrie

- *Carrie doesn’t have a canon last name (beside Wade during Duets & Destiny 👎). The last name I gave her is just her and Piper’s actresses’ last names hyphenated (Hannah Kat Jones and Hayley Erin).

- She was my favorite to draw, oh my gosh. I fully believe she would be Decora Kei. My first drawing of her I never posted because it wasn’t quite Decora and didn’t look right XD. But I really like this design for Carrie ^u^ Decora is so fun to draw!

- Also Carrie with braces is so real, I’m drawing her with them for forever now.

- Carrie has tons of piercings, a lot of them done by herself. 3 of her ear piercings were done on their own and so was her nose piercing. Xe tried to pierce her belly button but it got really infected and she had to take it out (it left a scar :,>). It wants more face piercings but she won’t do any other face piercings alone since it would be close to her eyes (nose bridge and eyebrow piercing).

- She also has a ton of stick and pokes of varying quality. None of them are particularly big or visible.

- Carrie uses she/it/xe and all neopronouns. She really likes glitch/clown/sparks as noun pronouns though ^3^

- She is girlflux (similar to genderfluid but her gender is never masculine).

- She’s a lesbian and she came out right after breaking up with Dez (the second time).

- There were two breakups between her and Dez. The real one which was the one they had played off as a misunderstanding and the second one was the break-off of the fake relationship.

- She was the one to suggest they keep pretending to date, even after they realized they weren’t into each other.

- Xe has ADHD and is hyperfixated on Japanese street fashions ^_^ (She wants to have her own Decora fashion line one day).

- She listens to mostly dance, J-Pop, and electronic music.

- Top Albums/Songs: Oh Yeah Baby! - Cube Natural, Tilt - Nanoray, Sigma - Reol.

(side note if you like electronic music with a lot going on Cube Natural, Nanoray, Sophiaaaahjkl;8901, and Golden Boy are such good artists you should check them out pls and thanks.)

[sashi-ya]

Ch. 1 ~ NSFW ~ Trafalgar Law x F! Maid! Reader ~ A Dangerous Attraction

Based on this request:

Anonymous asked: Can I request a Law x maid reader? But mafia au? I mean I don't see anything like this in other fanfic so might as well request it 😃 and thanks for doing this ^^

Thank u anon for such a WONDERFUL idea💖 I'm so weak for Law holding power it's ridiculous.

AU: Mafia AU. Mafia boss Law. Slightly longer hair for him.

TW: BLOOD. So much blood and violence. Dead bodies. Wet dreams. Mafia boss Law. Graphic depictions of violence. Intended abuse. If you are looking for smut part: coming soon next chapters.

WC: 4.2K

Chapters: one ; two ; three; four; five ; final

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33273136

There he is, sitting on his usual spot, the youngest commander of the Donquixote Family. His uncle, the most powerful gangster of all the underworld, has his special private room on your sushi bar.

And there is you, peeking from behind the counter, delightfully enjoying the contrast of those grey eyes and his caramel skin. Those tattoos that make him look extra edgy, black hair, everything about him screams danger and yet you are extremely attracted to him. Oh, and not to mention the surname he holds, “The Surgeon of Death”.

“Come on, you are just a waitress of this shitty bar… he will never…” you think, but suddenly your thoughts get interrupted by your work mate. “(Name), the special table is ready to order”. “Y-yes” you mumble and quickly fix your stockings up and brush your skirt. You are expected to wear a certain uniform, a black leather pencil skirt, black thigh highs and a white shirt that leaves nothing to the imagination.

“Excuse me, welcome. Are you ready to order?” you ask, quickly being trapped by the gaze of Trafalgar Law. Piercing sight on you, scanning you from head to toe, no expression at all. His clients quickly order a bunch of food and drinks, and then the commander speaks. “Two onigiri, no umeboshi. A dry martini, please”. He orders, bluntly, straight looking into your eyes. Shivers run through your spine when your ears are delighted by the sound of that low, deep voice.

“Right away, Sir” you say and quickly run to the kitchen. Once he is not able to see you, you sigh, soundly. “What's wrong, darling?” the cook asks you. “Uhm… that man” you mumble. “You mean the youngest gangster, huh? I can see why you are so attracted to him, but please be careful. That man is dangerous, everything around him is” she says, with the experience the years have given to her.

“You are right, you are so right… he is dangerous”

Neon red lights and the smell of sake when you enter the private room hit you. In your hand a silver tray with assorted most fine and exquisite sushi pieces, the two special onigiris and the drinks. Filthy men spit expletives at you as you serve them. Yet, Law is quiet, looking at them with a killer sight.

Once you have served everybody including Law, who is really aware of your uncomfortable face, you ask them if they need something more.

“Yes, little bitch. You!” says one of the disgusting guys there, snatching you suddenly from your waist forcing you to sit over his lap. You panic, you want to run, run far away from there. But you can’t, the old bastard got you trapped.

And everything happens in a second… Law stands up, takes a gun from the inside of his black coat, and pulls the trigger. A bullet hole on the abuser’s forehead, a little stream of blood falling from it and into the table. The arms of your captor turn consequently weaker until you are able to be freed from him.

Silence. Silence and a buzzing in your ears. You can’t even breathe. You feel dizzy, lightheaded. Even the music stopped playing, the ones who were doing karaoke on the stage went mute. No one dares to move, but everyone wants to run away. The men who were with the assassinated one remain still but trembling in his seats. They know if someone dares to speak, they will have the same destiny as his boss.

You also shiver, a man has been assassinated right next to you, coldly. A bullet passed centimetres from your face and your countenance has little blood drops all over.

“Shachi, Penguin” you hear Trafalgar call some people, so calm, so unamused. Two men, wearing black caps run inside the room and carry the body out. “We are sorry, miss” they excuse while pulling the men by the livid arms.

The inked gangster approaches you; you can even hear the black leather shoes steps as he walks. He takes a white handkerchief from the black pants, and softly brushes it over your cheeks. You can’t speak, your heart beats fast. Your eyes are wide open, your pupils dilated. No words can be articulated.

“I’m sorry, I can’t stand abusers. If something got broken, please send me the count” he whispers, gently wiping the blood out of your face. While the subordinates of the murdered man run away, panting. Scared.

“T- Thanks” you mumble, still unable to move. Law nods and you grab the soft white cloth. “I’m gonna clean this up for you, Sir” you tell him.

“Thanks” he says and walks away.

Once he has left the place and hear the sound of his roaring car leaving the bar, you fall to your knees. The intensity of what just happened left your legs weak. Your coworkers run to you once they realize everything seems secure.

“Are you ok, (Name)?” Lilly, your friend, the other waitress says to you while shaking your shoulders so you can respond. “Yes… I… I guess so” you say, blinking from the first time in a few minutes. “Now you actually know why I told you he is dangerous” says, Dolly, the cook.

Soon the bar closes, and puffs of steam come from the streets. Wet spots reflect the several neon lights of the city. And you shiver, what if someone attacks you? What if the bosses or someone related to the man who has been shot comes and takes revenge on you?

The sound of your steps resonates over the backstreets while you run, covering yourself with a little coat, scared as hell. You suddenly notice a black car, black windows, following you. Your heart races, you are hysterical. You don’t dare to look at the car, you only can see it from the corner of your eye. Panting and praying, you walk faster.

Your phone vibrates all of a sudden, scaring you even more. You are afraid to see the notification on the screen but you do it anyway, perhaps someone could help you…

<unknown>: Don’t be afraid, the car that’s following you is taking care of you. One of my special subordinates, Bepo, is protecting you. If you want to enter the car you just tell him, if not he will follow you so you can be safe at home.

“What?” you think and turn around to see a friendly looking man waving at you, white hair, and a sweet smile, driving the black car. “Oh…” you breathe, release, and smile with a shy expression. But even if the man looks friendly, sweet, almost like a little bear, you aren’t going to get inside the car.

You take the keys off your purse and quickly open your door. You wave at Bepo, and he smiles. Once you close the door, you peek through the little window to see the black car leaving the place.

“Finally home” you sigh and run to the bathroom. You look at your reflection in the mirror, you look pale and still have some red spots over your cheeks. “Oh lord” you cry and open the faucet to violently scrub your face to take the blood off. “What the fuck did just happen?” you ask yourself, unable to understand if what you are living now it’s just a dream. Or that’s what you wish.

The warm water of your bathtub relaxes your muscles, but every time you close your eyes you have Law’s eyes burned on your mind. He is so damn sexy, he saved you, but murdered someone right in front of you, coldly. You slowly let your back slide on the water until your face is completely under it. You need to drown the need to see him again when you suddenly remember that text.

You quickly emerge from the water, pulling your wet hair out of your face and realize you never answered the text. Was Law the one who sent it? you simply assume it and walk to your house escorted by a random stranger in a car. What if… what if the ones following you were no other than the others looking for revenge? They will know where you live! Well, not that Law was a safe option, but at this point you want to believe it is the safer of all….

“Wait, how did he know my number?” you think, but quickly understand he is a mafia boss, he could probably have not only your phone number but your bra size information if he wanted it in just a moment.

After that relaxing -not so relaxing- bath you head to your room. The big window next to your bed looks threatening, the buzzing sound of a neon sign that promotes the decaying apartments where you live fills the silence of your house. The moon looks blurry, it’s a cold, cold night, there is fog everywhere. Dense mist, where anyone could hide and attack if you dare to go outside.

You slide inside your bed, covering yourself up to your head. It’s not that the covers are bullet proof, but you feel secure under them. You shut your eyes, but then again, his eyes. Grey, intense crystalline irises that fix on yours haunt your thoughts. And the curiosity, and perhaps the fatal attraction leads you to grab your phone.

You: Uhm, is this Trafalgar Law?

<Unknown>: Yes. Got home safe?

You: Yes, thank you. Again.

<Unknown>: No problem, miss. You let me know if someone bothers you again.

You: Thanks. Have a good night Sir.

<Unknown>: Sleep tight.

You find yourself smiling, biting your lip while rereading those texts over and over again… “What am I thinking?” you whisper and soon after you let yourself fall into the dream world.

“Law” you moan. He grunts. Inked fingers tour all over your naked skin. His black hair falls over your face, he smells like lust, he smells like sex, like sin. His fangs bite your flesh, your neck, your breasts, your belly, the inside of your thighs. Your core drips. His eyes fixed on yours, the golden buckles hanging from his ears shine with the red light of the bar. You are over the table. You look to the side, and there’s blood. You look to the other side, more blood. It doesn’t smell like sex anymore, it smells like blood, like rotten skin. You push him off you, severed body parts laying all over the floor.

Law presses the muzzle of his gun over your forehead. And he smirks, sexily at you. A devil asking for your soul, a soul you have already sold to him just to commit original sin.

He pulls the trigger; you feel the sound of the shot. Your forehead bleeds, but you are not dead. Ruby vital fluid falls like tears at each side of your nose. You taste the irony liquid that falls into your lips, you relish and Law is again over you.

“You. Are. Dead” he whispers in your ear while penetrating you violently, and you sit on your bed panting.

“GOD” you shout. You try to understand if that was a dream or a nightmare. You are sweating, trembling. But you are also aroused. Your sex feels wet, so damn wet. That is exactly what that man produces on you. And nothing has ever happened in between you and him… well, besides the fact of killing a man because it was bothering you.

You gaze at your phone screen, 7:00 am. A shy, subtle light bathes the sky as the dawn approaches. You open the window to let some cold air enter and hit your burning cheeks. You look at the sky, and then to the backstreet. Something catches your attention. A black van, extremely dark tinted glass windows, steam coming out the exhaust pipe. You haven’t seen that van ever in your life, and you try to assume it is just someone delivering something to your neighbours.

But suddenly, someone rolls the window down and the image of a gun pointing directly at you makes you fall on your butt. You tremble, they are coming for you. You know that, and you are alone. Alone…

You crawl through the floor and grab your phone. Your heart beats so fast like it’s about to jump out from your chest, you sweat, you tremble. Calling the police won’t help, those bastards live freely because the police have treats with them. And then, you remember Law’s text…

“<Unknown>: No problem, miss. You let me know if someone bothers you again”

This is what he meant, right? you say and quickly dial his number. The tone goes for some seconds, seconds you feel like an eternity as you hear someone trying to force the door.

“Open up, bitch!”, “Our boss was killed because of you, fucking slut!” you hear some men shouting and kicking the metal door of your apartment. “Come on Law, answer me please” you whine in desperation. Tears sprouting nonstop from your eyes.

But then, the shouts and kicks cease. You hang up and crawl, slowly, trying not to emit a single sound, to the door. You place your ear over the metallic barrier that keeps you safe trying to hear something, because you are too scared to even peek through the peephole. Silence, complete silence.

Something doesn't make sense. Why those men who were completely determined to kill you would leave like this. Did someone call the police? What happened?

Your teeth are chattering, your legs don’t respond as you wish but you manage to stand up. The spyhole threatens to show the men are still there, but you need to know. -Even though you wouldn’t leave the apartment, what if they are waiting for you in the elevator, or the stairs? -.

Your pupil fixes on the hallway, and discovers two men lying on the ground, unconscious -and hopefully not dead-. You suddenly see a tall white haired man, and two more wearing black caps. And realize those are no other than Law’s subordinates. Bepo, Shachi and Penguin. “What?” you say. Did they protect me? But how did they know?” ...

“Miss (Name), it’s Bepo” one of the men tells you from behind the door. “We have already taken care of this situation. You can count on us if you need to go out somewhere. The boss is really busy right now, but he gave us strict orders to protect you. I’m sorry to bother you”.

You open and close your mouth several times, trying to decide your words. You don’t fully trust them, but it is what it is, and they have saved you once again. “Thank you so so much” you tell them, still without opening the door. “Don’t worry Miss!” the red haired man says. “I have to work at eight p.m., I wasn’t planning on going out today till that hour” you inform them, realizing you are now fully trusting on them, telling them your plans. “Ok, Miss. We will take you there. We are going to be on the street, if you need us, please call” Bepo says, and slides a little paper down the door.

“T-thanks” you say, feeling a little bad for not even offering them a glass of water. You watch them carry the unconscious attackers to the elevator, and then disappear. You grab the little paper with a number on it and inspect it. Weird numbers you haven’t ever seen before in your area. “Maybe this is some kind of satellite phone?” ...

You let your forehead rest over the door, thinking why everything happens to you. Why the mafia? Isn’t enough to be all alone in the big city, working until dawn only to send some money to your mother and sisters. “Dad, you left us. Look what I’m going through…” you repeat to yourself while remembering how amazing your childhood was leaving free, no worries, no mafia…

The sound of your stomach pulls you out from your misery. You are starving, so you decide to cook something, even if your appetite isn’t high. The smell of scrambled eggs makes your stomach turn, but you still force yourself to eat. If this is your life now, you should be ready to run from the danger.

You turn on the tv just to hear about the terrible crimes the mafia keeps perpetuating. “Damn, enough with these assholes!” you shout and mute the news. You grab your phone and discover you have a new message.

<Unknown>: I’m sorry I didn’t pick up earlier. I hope you don’t mind the guys taking care of you during the day.

When reading his text you realize a few things. First, he didn’t pick up the phone because he is one of the Mafia bosses and you are no one. Second, you have clearly no choice, whether you want it or not to be “protected” by his subordinates, they are gonna be there no matter what. Third, you are actually texting with a fucking gangster. Your life has become this in only one night, and you wonder what’s worse. Well… you are about to know.

Before texting him again, you write the name “Law” and save it on your contacts. A sudden burst of laughter hits you, “Law? His name is Law?” ... “He is a motherfucking gangster, what the fuck?! He is way far from the law...”. So, you decide to change his name to “Boss”. Little did you know this was predicting the future…

You: Thank you so much, once again. I owe you so much, Sir.

Boss: Don’t worry, I’m sure you will be able to compensate, yet this was my fault. So, don’t worry. I’m off to work, have a good day.

You: Have a good day.

“Off to work” you say out loud sarcastically. You are a delinquent, Law… What type of work do you do, huh?

The night is already here, and you are getting ready for work. Your anxiety rises, you have to leave your home. Those men offered to take you there, but should you trust? What if they are as bad as the others? What if… what if…

Frankly, you are over already, this stupid life keeps getting worse and worse. You smack the deep burgundy lipstick and tell your reflection in the mirror “If they want to kill me, well I won’t resist”. You click your heels and wish for the best.

There he is, waiting on your door, wearing a black suit, the man that you identify as Bepo. He looks so kind and harmless; you can’t believe he is part of the mafia.

“Good night, Miss. Let me guide you” he greets you, and the both of you enter the elevator. Soon you are inside a luxurious black car that drives you to your work through drunk people infested streets. “You must have a lot of customers on Saturday, right?” asks Bepo looking at your reflection in the rear-view mirror with a clear intention to ease your stress. Stress that shows perfectly on the way you fidget your fingers over your knee.

“Oh, uhm, yeah. Drunk people, a lot of them. So annoying…” you tell him, already anticipating the torture. “I see” he says and flashes an adorable smile. Somehow, every time you look at him it reminds you of a polar bear. Who knows why? maybe it’s because of his white hair?

The lux car finally parks on the entrance of your workplace. Bepo runs and opens your door, helping you get out of the car. “Miss” he says and bows. “Thank you, Bepo” you tell him, smiling. You walk towards the entrance of the shitty bar feeling like the wife of a mafia boss, and giggle at the idea.

The night goes by, a few drunk guys have already left, and there are two hours until the bar closes. Everything seems pretty normal for a Saturday night, no signs of Mafia bosses or attackers whatsoever. You often find yourself daydreaming about Law’s face, the sexy tattoos that peak through his classy clothes, the red tie, perfectly matching his black shirt. The way his long legs move so gracefully when he walks. The way he crosses them and places his inked hands over his knee when coldly examines the future associates. Such a handsome man… but then you remember; he is a murderer…

"(Name), get ready. Big fishes" your mate informs you. Once again, fucking criminals in suits have come to your bar so they can have their special meetings. You can also identify some senators on the table. You, as always, get ready and approach them.

"Good night sirs. Are you ready to order?" You greet them, feeling their disgusting eyes scan your whole body. They spit all types of insinuating words, phrases you wouldn't like to hear ever again.

After they are done with paying you -putrid- compliments, you head off the counter to inform the bartender about their ethyl choices.

"Enjoy your drinks" you tell them with a fake smile after serving the multiple glasses of alcohol. The men fix their eyes on your anatomy and don't bother giving you a simple thanks. But it's ok, who would want that either… Yet, there is a man, only one, that keeps looking at you in a suspicious way. He seems not to lose track of any of your movements. At first you tremble, but then you think it is probably because he -as many others- keeps jeezing in his pants when see your ass.

An hour passes, the laughs of them fill the bar as they progressively get more and more drunk. You decide it's time to take a bathroom break.

You head to the back of the bar, where the employee’s bathroom is and go do your stuff. You hear as if some glasses were shuttering on the floor. "Damn drunk bastards" you grunt, well knowing you are going to have to clean the saloon, too.

When you get out of the toilet, you struggle to open the faucet. "Damn shitty place, each drink costs a fortune but the stupid boss can replace the fucking place where the employees clean their hands" you complain. But suddenly, a cold shiver runs through your spine.

"You are such a lady, why are you talking like that?" You hear someone say. Quickly you turn around and realize there's no other than the man that has been looking at you persistently.

"Sir… what do you want?" You ask while he walks towards you, and you press your butt against the sink. He puts his disgusting hands around your neck, licking your cheek. Tears stream down your face. You smell his putrid breath so close to you, and even if you try to escape you simply can't. He is way bigger and stronger than you.

"Don't hurt me, please" you beg, moving your head to the side trying to at least put your face far from his. The man laughs, and suddenly you feel something cold against your stomach. Your eyes slowly go down, discovering he is shoving a gun into your belly.

"Did you think that asshole would always be here to save you? Our boss was killed by you, little slut. You have to pay. Who do you think you are, huh? You are nothing but a cum dump. Did you think you were some kinds of princess? Die, bitch!" He screams but doesn't pull the trigger.

You are not shot, but he is bleeding.

And the tip of a katana softly caresses your stomach. There he is, Law, Boss, the mafia boss saving you once again. Crossing your attacker with that katana he always has hanging on his back.

He smiles at you, that sexy smirk that kills you and pulls the edge of the sword out of that now dead man. Once more, your eyes are so widely open, you can't blink.

The man falls into the ground, blood starts to profusely go into the ground, tinting the tiles in pure bright red.

You hyperventilate. "Law…" you whisper, and your legs turn weak. You can't maintain equilibrium and fall into the arms of your saviour.

"It’s ok, (Name)-ya" he says brushing your head. You look up at him, hugging him tight. You barely know this man, but he has already saved your life three times now.

"Please, don't leave me" you beg. "I'll do anything. Take me with you. I could be your maid! Your… whatever". You tell him, aware of the only talents you have are serving people who think are superior to you.

Law rubs your back, up and down with one hand, while the other holds his katana. The sound of the blood on its edge dripping to the floor fills the place and compete with your whining. The closeness with his body both protects you and arouse you. Who could even know you could be horny even after such a situation? But Law has that effect on you, and you can’t deny it… "Shh, don't worry. You will come with me…” he pauses.

“The maid part sounds interesting…"

Part 2

[bakugoulvr420]

by your side

thank u for the request 🐸 anon!! i hope that i understood the prompt correctly and this lives up to your expectations!!

f!reader x bakugou

tw: mentions of domestic abuse

“what, another villain attack?!”

today was supposed to be just like any other day, but unfortunately some villains found a way to infiltrate UA’s shitty security system and had invaded the gym that your class happened to be training in.

“well isn’t it a surprise to be seeing the infamous UA students here?” an unfamiliar villain chimed and he pointed at you all.

“who the fuck is that…?” bakugou muttered, barely audibly.

it was visibly apparent that everybody was more confused than scared because seriously, who the hell were these unfamiliar faces?

the villain pack consisted of 5 people that looked ridiculous in their costumes, which didn’t really help their attempts to look intimidating.

“i suggest you trolls leave our campus right this second. i’ve already contacted the security department and they should be arriving any second now,” your teacher aizawa threatened as he activated his quirk and bundled up the guy that just spoke.

“h-heh, it seems like somebody is real scared!” another guy snickered as he let out a couple of giggles.

for some unlucky reason, you happened to be the closest to the villain pack, in fact, you were closer to them than you were closer to your classmates.

“y/n, come here fast!” kaminari whispered aggressively at your direction.

of course you wanted to run into bakugou’s arms but it felt like if you made any subtle movements, the villains could attack you any second. you weren’t scared but this particular villain made you feel uneasy. it didn’t help that he was glaring at you since the beginning with a nasty glare plastered on his face.

“if you move i’ll kill your parents!”

naturally your eyes widened. out of all the things he could’ve said, he chose to threaten your parents. everybody in your class knew that your parents had passed away a long time ago. they all knew that it was a touchy subject for you.

“the fuck did you say you gremlin?!” your boyfriend screeched as he began approaching the group of villains. bakugou wasn't mad about the fact that the villain threatened your parents, but because he was threatening you.

“bakugou, do not attack. this is an order,” aizawa quickly said. “we don’t know what their quirks are.”

you took this opportunity to run to bakugou but unfortunately you were caught by the same villain that threatened your parents. he had knocked you down and was on top of you now.

“what was that reaction?” his eyes widened as well as his smile.

"you fuckin-" bakugou immediately reacted and blasted himself towards your direction.

“come any closer and i’ll kill her,”

everybody tensed up. your classmates and aizawa looked visibly shaken. didn’t aizawa call for help earlier or was he just bluffing to win some time?

“if you lay one more finger on her, i swear to god that i will be killing you,” your boyfriend growled.

“yea mhm. we’ll see about that,”

without wasting a second, the villain must’ve either killed you or activated his quirk, because you suddenly found yourself in your old childhood room.

“where am i…?” you thought as you inspected your surroundings.

you were in the bed that you used for almost half of your life. feeling confused, you got up and walked towards the exit of your room.

“what are you doing?” a familiar voice cooed.

almost as if your body was programmed to react, you flinched and looked towards the direction of the voice. it was your mother. she was right outside your room, staring at you from the crook of the door.

“m-mom?” you stuttered as you instinctively walked backwards.

“i asked what you’re doing,” she repeated, this time sounding much more hostile.

“i.. i’m not..” you struggled to find your words.

what exactly was going on? was everything a dream? you entering UA, meeting your friends- meeting bakugou?

“y/n,” your mother sighed. “what did i tell you about trying to leave your room?”

her body was now fully in your room, directly staring you down from above. her hair was messy and her clothes filthy. what on earth was going on?

“hm?” she hummed as she smiled. “are you not gonna answer me?”

the moment you tried opening your mouth to speak, her hands had already landed on your face. she had struck you, hard. the pain was immense. you swore you felt like your cheeks were on fire. though, the numbness that followed indicated that your cheeks had gotten used to the hard impact.

“answer me!” she shrilled as she slapped you once more.

“please. please stop mommy,” you were crying. you now remembered the countless amount of times that your mother had hit you.

“mommy? don’t fucking call me that. you know how much trouble i go through because of you?”

your little body was on the floor, instinctively covering your head with your arms. tears rolled down your cheeks, your throat noticeably dry from probably crying a lot just a few hours ago.

“you’re the reason i’m like this. you’re the reason my life is a living hell!” your mother cried as she began digging her nails into your skin.

“please mommy, please. please stop,” you begged.

the feeling of her clawed nails on your back began to dissipate. maybe she had dug in too deep to the point of triggering a nerve which made your back go numb. you weren’t too sure but this familiar was very familiar to you.

“y/n?”

“y/n! wake up!”

"are you okay?"

a pair of voices called out your name. you didn’t know why but those voices were soothing and made your heart beat a little bit less intense.

“i’m here, PLEASE wake up!”

you lifted your head and opened your eyes slightly. suddenly the room was no longer dark and it was a different setting. you were at the UA training gym.

immediately you were embraced by a pair of warm arms that managed to calm you down almost immediately. you didn’t have to waste a second to identify whose arms these were.

“bakugou,” you began sobbing.

his arms wrapped you even tighter as he planted a kiss on your head. “it’s all okay now. the villains are gone,”

you weren’t too sure of what he was exactly talking about, but you wanted to continue hearing his voice. the familiarity of his scent and touch overwhelmed you with a wave of comfort.

“what happened…?”

your classmates had surrounded you. it was visible on their faces that they were all worried for you.

“yeah… you kept saying momm-“

“idiot!” kirishima silenced sero immediately, hoping that you didn’t hear that.

“everybody get the fuck out!” bakugou growled, still holding you in his arms.

despite aizawa also being worried for you, he understood that bakugou would be the best at comforting you. after all, your boyfriend was much more familiar with your history, though not completely.

even after everybody had left, none of you exchanged a word. it was almost as if his physical presence was enough to communicate meaningful words to you. bakugou only continued to gently pat your head and readjusted you so you’d be more comfortable.

“bakugou,” you started. “i don’t know-“

“you don’t have to say anything,” he cut you off.

you looked up at his face and saw that he was experiencing a bunch of feelings simultaneously.

“i’ll kill that bastard for you, i swear,”

you weren’t too sure if bakugou hadn’t heard you say what the rest of your classmates had heard, or if he was trying to help you not think about what had just happened. either way, bakugou didn't torment you with questions.

“no bakugou. i saw my mom,”

he didn’t looked surprised at all. afterall, he must’ve heard everything yet decided to wait for you to address it yourself.

“i was in my room. my childhood room. then my mom came out of nowhere and,” your voice cracked a bit. “she began hitting me,”

bakugou had a slight idea of what you had went through but he never knew that it was this graphic.

“you’re safe now, okay? it’s all in the past and she’s dead. i’m here to protect you too, you know?”

you nodded and let all your tears stream out, eventually getting absorbed by bakugou’s shirt. during the whole time you were crying, bakugou stayed by your side without saying anything. it’s not like he had to say anything either, just him being there, it was enough.

after this incident, nobody really approached you to ask you nothing more than if you were doing better now. nobody ever mentioned the thing with what you were crying about while being under the quirk’s influence but, you knew that your boyfriend had done something behind the scenes to handle the situation for you.

[gwoongi]

wordless pt.4

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: hitman (john wick au), sugar daddy au, angst, crack, fluff rating: mature words: 3.5k warnings: toxic relationships, non graphic sex a/n: u guys asked and i delivered...tag yourself i’m me saying dancer in the dark was coming first....i was wrong...this is also very sweet considering part 5 will not be :D enjoy while u can!

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

(31) Pulling a chair out for them to sit down at the table.

Jeongguk’s not a gentleman.

Everybody knows it, and he’s not ashamed of admitting it. Half of the time, he thinks that it’s what makes him unique, at least. If you (or anybody else, even though since you walked out on him that one time, he’s been seeing all the others less and less) were going to be with somebody, then you might as well just make it different. Spice it up a little bit.

“It will be nice.” Jeongguk, because he’s not a gentleman, is not really listening to you. He sits behind the steering wheel and tightens his hand against the wheel, the other is on the clutch.

“Are you listening to me?”

“No,” Jeongguk replies. He turns the corner, and the car slightly leans you to the right.

A sigh fills the car as he pauses as a set of traffic lights further down the street.

This red light drags forever, and Jeongguk sighs instead and looks at you pointedly, “What, then?”

It takes reluctance to pull your gaze away from the pigeons near the bins on the side of the road, but you do, and you look at Jeongguk. “I just think it will be really nice to grab dinner together.”

“We do that all the time,” Jeongguk says.

“Yeah, but I don’t mean us, or just us,” you affirm, “I mean, like all of us. Family, I guess.”

Jeongguk bristles. “Family? We don’t have any family, baby.”

“We do,” you moan. “I mean. Not family-family, but family. The kind of family we get to choose. Taehyung, and Eunji and whoever.”

Jeongguk nods sarcastically, “Oh. Wrong F word, Y/N, those people are called friends.”

“Oh, whatever then,” you huff, turning back towards the window. “Forget I said anything, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk wants to forget, but he doesn’t. Something about that line, about the way that it stuck with him: The kind of family we get to choose. He thought about it all night, groaned, and then swore and called Taehyung. Alright motherfucker, we’re going to dinner with Y/N so you better shut the fuck up, get a suit, and meet us at that fancy Gangnam restaurant.

So, it’s a Friday evening, and it feels like a Disney Channel crossover episode. Eunji definitely feels out of place in this restaurant, and Jeongguk acts uncomfortable about the way Taehyung sits opposite you, gauging your every move and word with overacted enthusiasm. Actually, all Jeongguk is thinking about is the moment that they got here.

“Here, honey, let me get that for you,” had appeared to be Taehyung’s favourite sentence to say to you; he used it when he opened the door for you, and again with the chair to the table. Jeongguk sat seething, almost red like a ruby. Eunji sips nervously from her glass as Taehyung laughs again at something you said.

Dinner went great, he would have to admit that.

“Oh, we booked the patio for desserts,” Taehyung says. One of Jeongguk’s other friends, Seokjin (who honestly came to observe rather than to fill in for the surprising lack of family at this family dinner) looks left and right to each person on the table and follows the crowd as they leave for the patio once the main courses are done.

Taehyung once again reaches for the door and lets you walk outside. As Jeongguk passes Taehyung at the door, he glares at Taehyung with eyes that could murder. Taehyung doesn’t waver but he does get the hint, even more so as you stroll towards the table. Before Taehyung can even move towards the table, Jeongguk curves in front and puts his hand on the back of your chair.

“Here you go, baby, let me sit next to you,” Jeongguk says, dragging it out for you to sit. You watch him with one raised eyebrow but say nothing. Taehyung says nothing for a few minutes but decides to get right back to it as the desserts begin. It pisses off Jeongguk to the point where his hand leaves fingerprints in your thigh, but you can’t find it in you to be mad about it.

(32) Wrapping a blanket around them when they are sitting on the couch and watching a show.

“You gotta stop letting yourself in here, it scares the shit out of me.”

“I own this dump.”

You gape over your shoulder, “Fucker, you own this dump that you call a dump but you gave me this dump, it’s my dump, don’t call it a dump.”

“Say dump one more time,” Jeongguk warns, shrugging off his jacket and ruffling his hair. It’s wet thanks to the torrential rain outside. His socks squelch across the floor because he left his slippers back at his place, and he’s not here often enough to have his own pair at your apartment.

The apartment is toasty and warm, the heating on high. Except the living room is chilly and dark, dark blue almost.

“What are you watching?”

Jeongguk moves towards your bedroom but can still hear you as he moves.

“Just this show I found,” you reply, watching the screen. “Dead To Me.”

“Never heard of it,” he yawns, and emerges from the room. He’s holding a heavy blanket in his arms, moving to the living room to sit next to you. He plops next to you and glances at the screen, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, over your head like a cocoon.

You laugh softly, shifting it off your head and leaning up against him. “It’s American. It’s got Velma in it.”

“Linda Cardellini?” Jeongguk asks, settling back. “She’s hot as fuck.”

“I know, that’s why I thought I’d watch it, I love her,” you say.

Jeongguk wraps an arm around your shoulder and smushes closer towards you.

“Good day?” you ask quietly.

He takes a few seconds, like he’s truly trying to think about whether he wants to answer or not.

“Okay,” he admits. “Don’t care, it’s over, I’m here, don’t wanna think about work.”

You don’t push him to talk, and instead, let him sit next to you. He likes the darkness because there’s no way you can see his discomfort, his pain, the blood under his fingernails.

(33) Throwing away their piles of tissues when they have a cold.

Jeongguk travels for work a lot, and it’s no secret to anybody he knows. It was midday when he got a call, just a few words over the phone, and then he was moving out of the shower and into the bedroom to get ready.

He had told you to stay, stay until he got back. Unfinished business, he said, that would need dealing with when he got home. So you did, you stayed and he left, and that was that.

Jeongguk sighs and shuts the car door. Until next time, he thinks to himself as he watches the car pull away. Frowning, he straightens his blazer and walks up the steps to the complex he lives at and enters. When he gets to his apartment, he kicks his shoes off right away and as he steps inside, he notices that the apartment is unusually silent.

Normally at his home, his big mansion that he loves up in the hills, there’s some sort of noise. Maybe it’s the sound of the TV on in the kitchen, or the bubbles in the hot tub, or the sound of Elio prowling around the bedroom. This apartment is in central Seoul, closer to work and closer to school. He hates how silent it is, how empty it feels.

“Y/N?”

There is no instant reply. He moves across the apartment, searching silently.

“Babe, you here?”

Worry bubbles in his stomach and he moves in search of you. After searching everywhere, Jeongguk scoffs like it’s a sick joke that you’re not here, until he hears a noise, a croak and a cough from the spare bedroom.

“Y/N?” calls Jeongguk. He moves to the door and twists the handle, and is a few shuffles inside when a grottal, gross noise emerges from the darkness.

“What?” he asks.

“I said don’t come in here,” you croak out in reply, because it’s you, and who else would it be in his apartment?

Jeongguk enters and reaches for the light, pausing when you grunt in his direction. He can see you in the dim light of the spare bedroom, the sun outside the curtains, and he suppresses a smile.

“What happened? I said we had unfinished business.”

“I know,” you rasp. “But one of the kids in my class came to the lab with a sore throat, I thought I’d be fine. But, ta-da.” He can see in the light that there’s a plethora of tissues around your body, like a barrier. So many, snotty and probably damp and scrunched into balls. “Guess he had a cold.”

He grimaces, shuffling into the bedroom despite you telling him otherwise. It’s unsurprisingly stuffy in the room, a given since the room is closed off from the sunlight that bleeds behind the curtains. Like you requested, he doesn’t turn on the lights, keeping you safe in the darkness.

“Shitty kids,” Jeongguk grunts. Finding a lack of interest in the germs that breed in the tissues scrunched into balls, he moves them from the covers and tosses them towards the small bin next to the bedside cabinet. You sniffle, snotty and stuffed, and peer from over the duvet at him.

Jeongguk looks tired, as he always does when he gets back from work. He sports a brand new cut on his lip, one that will probably scar when it’s done showing crimson. There is blood on his shirt, and you know that it’s probably not his. That doesn’t make you feel better.

“How long you had it?” Jeongguk asks.

“Two or three days,” you estimate. He’s been gone almost a week, the seventh day being tomorrow. “Should go soon, don’t worry.”

He smiles, “Not worried. Did you get medicine, or something?”

You sniff once, the air hot in your nostrils. “Nope. I haven’t managed to leave since I came down with it. I only went to the door to collect soup and then I went back to bed in here.” Another sniff and Jeongguk’s eyebrows raise with amusement, “Didn’t want to infect your bedroom, so I came here instead. Hope that’s okay.”

“Sure, it’s okay,” he replies. “I’ll find something for you, I’ve got a bunch of shit that might help.”

“Really?”

Jeongguk nods, “Yeah. Stay put, buttercup, B-R-B.”

(34) Mending an item of their clothing that was ripped.

“Who even takes the subway anymore?”

In reply, Jeongguk gets an appalled scoff. “I’m sorry, not all of us are rich enough to have fucking chauffeurs taking us places.”

“What’re you talking about, you’re rich,” Jeongguk says, his voice kind of muffled due to the sewing needle between his teeth. He sits on the edge of his sofa, your skirt spread over his lap like a napkin at dinner. Down the leg, the seam is torn, showing what could have been an erotic amount of leg. Unfortunately, he’d only got a glimpse of your skin when you shuffled into his home.

As the CEO of ripping his clothes, Jeongguk became familiar with sewing over the years, figuring it was less expensive to sew than it was to replace. So, of course, when your skirt got torn on the subway home, Jeongguk tested his principles and dug out the sewing needle.

“No thanks to you,” you sigh. “You didn’t need to, by the way.”

“Need to what, pay you?” Jeongguk laughs, sewing the seam. “Come on, Y/N, it’s overdue.”

“True, but I don’t really need your money that much anymore.”

“Funny, since you needed it when you didn’t have it,” he sighs dramatically. “Anyway, it’s barely a dent out of my bank account, I wanna spoil you. You’re welcome.”

You frown, shuffling to the couch and throwing yourself over the back so that your head is by his legs. Jeongguk spares you a glance from the skirt and smiles, returning back to the work.

“Thanks,” you mumble. Nothing is said, but he appreciates it, even if he did it out of guilt.

(35) Running out in the middle of the night to get a food item they’re craving.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“What the fuck?”

Jeongguk shoots up from bed into a sitting position, his eyes blown wide as he stares at you. Whenever Jeongguk invites you to stay at his apartment, he always keeps a light on in the evening. His apartment is in a somewhat busier area compared to his house, which is stationed in a private neighbourhood only touched by the wealthiest of the wealthy. His apartment was supposed to be for ease, for if he had to do dirty work in the city and didn’t want to tie his name to a hotel. It wasn’t often that you stayed the night here.

In the light of the dim lamp on your side of the bed, Jeongguk can make out your face. You’re still lying down, staring up at the ceiling. After he stares long enough, you look over at him.

“Why the fuck would you say that,” he breathes, like it’s an insult.

“Wow, would it really be so bad?” you ask, curious now.

He blinks like an owl. “Obviously, dipshit.”

Sigh. “And here I was thinking it would be like the movies and you’d love me.”

“Even if I loved you, do you think I wanna have kids?” Jeongguk questions rhetorically, because he’s actually already talked to you about this. Jeongguk never wants to have children. His life is constantly on the line. There is no way he’d bring a child into the world, just for them to either be used as bait, or grow up in a world without their father. He knows how that feels.

“Fair,” you reply. “Still.”

Jeongguk shudders, it’s cold in here. “Wait, are you for real?” He shifts, the covers make a disruptive noise in the night, “what makes you think that you’re...you know…”

“I keep getting weird cravings,” you explain, like it’s the craziest science that he won’t understand. As soon as you say it, he feels almost instantly better. It’s not like cravings are the most reliable symptom of a pregnancy. Besides, you’re on the pill, and when you’re not, he’s safe. He’s not an idiot, he’s not about to accidentally ruin both of your lives with a few squirts.

“Like what?”

You shrug, “Really craving the Fairway to Heaven ice-cream.”

Jeongguk scoffs. Actually, it’s almost a tch under his breath. “Yeah, of course, you’re craving the most expensive icecream. Predictable. Cute, almost.” He pats your leg over the covers, “We all know Phish Food’s the better flavour, by the way.”

“Tell that to the cravings, sir,” you reply. You frown, then, “I’ll pick some up tomorrow. Maybe I’ll dream the cravings away…”

“As if,” Jeongguk barks, knowing you better. If he knows you at all (which he confidently does), you’ll press about this for the rest of the night until you fall asleep bored of trying. So, Jeongguk enjoys the last few seconds inside a warm bed before climbing out, switching on the light so it burns your eyes as the room fills with it.

“Ouch, too bright!”

“Pussy,” he smirks. “Bro, get your coat, we’re going out.”

“Oh yeah, at midnight?” you ask sarcastically, sitting up. “Where’re we going?”

“Ice cream,” he replies, like it’s obvious. To him it is. “That store down the road sells it and it closes at 2, so get your big coat and let’s get moving!”

“Are we seriously going to get ice cream at midnight?” you laugh, doing as he says.

“We both know you’re not gonna shut up about it if we don’t.”

Jeongguk grabs his own coat and zips it up. Nobody’s gonna care that he’s wearing PJ’s, and even if you’re sleepy and grumpy on the way there, it’s better than keeping you at the apartment alone. He’d have to be crazy to leave you here than he is going out for ice cream at midnight.

(36) Helping brush their hair after a shower.

You’re the best he’s had, really.

Jeongguk knows this, because he’s not stupid or blind or oblivious. Compared to the other girls he’s had, and the ones he left not too long ago, he knows how lucky he is to have someone like you. Someone who doesn’t just want him for the sex and the money. Although scary, it’s reassuring.

Jeongguk comes out from the kitchen to the bedroom where you’re sitting, hunched over a laptop watching a YouTube video that bores you to sleep. Your hair is damp and matted, left to dry as you watch. Fourty minutes into an hour video. Jeongguk narrows his eyebrows, wondering if he’d ever have the patience to watch something like that. Probably not. He barely has the patience when he works, and he has a job that demands it 99% of the time. When he can be hasty he is, but when his job is to kill and protect, patience is a must.

As you watch, Jeongguk moves to sit behind you and he sets his chin on your shoulder, boredly looking at the screen. Your eyes are glossed over, possibly not even watching at all. Regardless, he stays there and slowly rakes his fingers through your hair, straightening out the curls that are close to knots.

He still blames the video for you falling asleep, although it’s probably his fingers. He won’t admit it.

(37) Making sure to be quiet while they’re taking a nap.

It’s not just that. Jeongguk enjoys being gentle, but only when nobody can see him doing it. When you fall asleep, slouched over like a zombie, he smiles and gently closes the screen of your laptop. Whatever garbage your Uni have you watching can be watched tomorrow.

Until then, you must sleep. He moves the laptop away to the cabinet across the room and comes back, collecting you in his arms and moving you into the bed. Once the covers are draped across your body, he takes extra care to be quiet leaving the room and shutting the door. There’s some food leftover in the kitchen from dinner that he’ll eat before joining you, and you don’t wake up, not even when the bed dips as he climbs into it.

(38) Letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt.

Despite his work often demanding him to be around people, Jeongguk isn’t really a big fan of crowds. If he can get out of going out in public, he will jump at the opportunity. He just can’t see why you’re so miffed about not being with the crowds of people on the Hangang Bridge waiting for the fireworks- he’s got a balcony that looks out over the city and the river, so what’s the big deal?

“It’s all about the vibe,” you say with a slight sigh. Your arms are draped over the balcony banister, legs slowly vibrating in the bitter winter air. “As a broody killing machine, I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“That stings,” Jeongguk replies, closing the door behind him as he wanders back towards you with a blanket. His eyes glaze over your face as he arrives and Jeongguk rolls his eyes, “Hold your face that way and it’ll stick.”

“Heard it all before from my Mom,” you reply boredly. A quiet thanks is spoken as you take the blanket shield and snuggle closer to his chest, staring expectantly at the black sky. “What time will they start?”

Jeongguk presses his cheek to your hair. “Considering three minutes ago it was only ten to midnight, I can safely assure you that it is not time yet.”

“I’m bored.”

“Why are you so hard to please today?” Jeongguk groans. He wriggles around, “And don’t try me with that ‘I think I’m pregnant’ bullshit. Spare me the moody bitch performance for today, please?”

You pug to yourself. “Sorry. Sorry, you’re right. And I shouldn’t be so...I don’t know. I’m sorry. Thank you for tonight.”

Jeongguk shakes his head slightly. He may never understand women.

“You really that mad over the bridge?” he asks quietly, his mouth against your head. It’s hot, and you lean back towards his minimal body warmth. “I’m sorry I didn’t pass your vibe check for tonight, but I thought it might be romantic or something for us to be up here.”

You almost laugh. “It is romantic. You’re right.”

Jeongguk brushes it off. Lately something has shifted, a comfort in the air that grants you permission to be in his life as someone more important than a ‘sugar baby’. Dare he say it, but Jeongguk actually considers you a friend. Now, you’re at the point where neither of you give much of a shit about the sugar clause you wrote yourselves into quite some time ago. An unspoken thing hangs there like Christmas mistletoe, seen but prayed away.

Distant laughter and a bang grows near the direction of Hangang bridge, and Jeongguk feels you perk in his arms. As a small warmth bursts across his chest, Jeongguk hisses in the cold and stuffs his hands up your shirt, where they curve around your body to cheekily hold both of your boobs. You jump, because his hands are freezing.

“You’re cold!” you whine. “What are you doing?”

Jeongguk shrugs, “My hands are freezing. I’m keeping them warm.”

You briefly glance down at his knuckles outlined by your jumper. “Oh yeah, because I’m sure that’s the reason why you’re literally groping my tits right now.”

“They feel warmer already,” he continues.

(39) Giving them your dessert when you eat out because it’s their favourite.

On the rare occasion that guilt consumes Jeon Jeongguk, he allows his guilt to control his feet. Usually, they end up on a pathway to the bedroom, or in the car where he drives you somewhere nice, or perhaps he picks you up from school instead of cruelly leaving you to take the subway. Now that things have shifted slightly in your dynamic, Jeongguk isn’t sure what flies as romantic anymore. He doesn’t want to leave you with the wrong impression. You’ve had the talk together, the one that touched upon what the future looked like and how quite definitely it looked as though you wouldn’t be with each other, but surely, dinner overlooking the sea in Busan isn’t too fancy or romantic, right?

“Here is your patbingsu.” The waiter circles around the table and gently lays a dish in front of you. Jeongguk carefully watches over his glass of wine as the waiter also announces his own dessert, the exact same. His eyes move down to the display set before him.

He’s never really been keen on dessert, but Jeongguk is the type of person who doesn’t enjoy the idea of one person eating when the other isn’t. So he had just ordered the same thing as you had, nice and simple, without giving it much thought.

“I love this,” you sigh happily, fiddling the metal spoon in your hand and peering up at him, “This is sick. Thank you.”

“I didn’t make it,” he replies.

You roll your eyes, spooning out some of the dessert, “you know what I mean.”

Something in the beach-fronted restaurant shifts as the sun sinks deeper into the ocean, and Jeongguk twirls his spoon anxiously whilst observing the patbingsu. He’s never been a huge fan of bingsu in general, and he looks with slight distaste at the green blob on top of what looks like cornflakes. He doesn’t get Korean desserts. Why can’t Korea be satisfied with an ice-cream sundae?

He dips his spoon into the dessert, taking a polite amount and very quickly taking a bite. For around twenty seconds, he thinks it’s okay, but the aftertaste makes his whole body shudder. Fucking hell, he really hates desserts.

After a few minutes, you finally move your attention away from the scraped clean dessert dish and take a glance over at Jeongguk, who is already watching you with a lack of interest for his own dessert.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, subtly wiping around your mouth just in case. You take in the sight of his unfinished treat, “not hungry?”

Jeongguk shrugs awkwardly, “I don’t really like bingsu.”

“Then why’d you order?” you question quietly.

“I panicked,” he replies, “you ordered it and I don’t like desserts but I didn’t want you to be eating alone.”

You pause, eyebrows quirked: “I don’t mind.”

He sighs. Of course. “Well…” He twirls the dessert dish and pushes it in your direction, “Since it’s your favourite, or whatever, you can have it.”

Your eyes light up, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” you squeal, happily taking it from him. “Thank you~”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes playfully and sits back in his chair. Whatever he didn’t eat from the dessert he instead eats up in the sight of you.

(40) Making a goofy face until they notice and laugh.

You don’t quite know how you ended up at Jeongguk’s work, but here you are. You could probably trace it back to Taehyung swinging by to get you from school since Jeongguk felt bad he couldn’t, and to be honest, you had been confused when Taehyung drove past the turning to your apartment and kept going further into the city.

Jeongguk’s workplace is pretty big, but still significantly hidden inconspicuously to avoid attention. As you slowly wander around the hallways, you begin to daydream about where Jeongguk’s office may be, what he might be doing and what he might think if he sees you.

Quietly passing through what appears to be a recreation room, filled with tired faces who blink curiously as you brush by, you finally step out into a web of hallways that connect to small rooms walled in glass. Each is empty, besides one at the very end that bustles with tense conversation, and you’re drawn to the sound of Jeongguk’s voice as it carries through the silent hallways.

You push forward, stopping not too close to the doorway so that if somebody who isn’t him happens to see you, you can make a hasty escape.

The room is filled with strange faces, strange men in tight suits and briefcases next to their feet. A man stands up beside Jeongguk at the head of the table, his hands animated as he presses on about something you’re not well read on. Hell if you know a single thing about gun models and firing ranges. You can just about tell apart Fortnite weapons and that’s only because they’ve got colours.

Jeongguk, however, is a sight that captures your gaze. For a while, he sits with his back turned to the man standing, his eyes observing each individual around the table, of who squirm under his watch. He eventually looks back at the man, his jawline sharp and his hair styled so that it only slightly falls into his eyebrows. God damn it, he looks sexy as hell; his shirt is black, cuffed, unbuttoned at the top revealing his skinny collarbones. He’s probably wearing the tight trousers too, the ones that make his ass look good.

A thought strikes you: how would he feel if he saw you outside? While it shouldn’t, the thought fills you with adrenaline. The idea of not him but somebody else seeing you, a girl dressed in white jeans and a red shirt, your coat discarded somewhere on an office chair. Would he be mad? Would he be turned on?

Would you die?

Deciding that the worse case scenario only involved you being yelled at, you decide to dip your toes into the water and tease the sharks; you wonder how long you can hold this silly face for until he finally notices you out there.

It seems like a long shot, and you’re quite close to giving up when finally Jeongguk returns his attention to the table. Heads begin to move in conversation, and Jeongguk’s gaze passes from gentleman to gentleman until they pause abruptly, locking onto you behind the glass. For a moment, he does nothing besides stare. Perhaps he doesn’t care. Then, his eyes widen, like he’s confused and alarmed and slightly impressed. Before his disturbed posture is noticed, you laugh to yourself and run away, back in the direction you tiptoed through.

(Later, Jeongguk finds you in Taehyung’s office sitting on an uncomfortable and torn armchair, a Rubix cube moving back and forwards in your hands. You’re not matching any colours. It’s going nowhere. He smiles.

“Field trip?” he questions, making your head snap up suddenly. He slides next to you on the free chair, “I’ll skin that prick alive, you know you’re not supposed to be here.”

“I know, but I’m here against my will!” you promise, putting the cube down. “I really wanted to go home. Dead To Me episodes don’t watch themselves, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs. “I gotta go to a meeting again, then I’ll drive us home, okay?”

You nod. “I’m sorry I distracted you, by the way. I realise now I’m actually very lucky that it was you who saw me and nobody else.”

Jeongguk laughs, kissing your forehead as he rises to leave. “Yeah, well, I’m the most dangerous guy in there, so consider yourself very lucky.”)

[discreative]

[WP] Demon Blades each portray a human emotion, when the user feels the emotion of their blade, they resonate and the power rises 10 fold. the Demon Blade of Wrath was weak, no matter how mad the user, it couldn't match the other blades. turns out, no one was angry enough to use it right, until now.

Original prompt by u/Cryptowhatever on r/WritingPrompts. Warning: contains graphic descriptions of violence, and generally depressing themes.

-X-X-X-X-X-X-

Have you ever felt wrath?

Not anger. Anger's different. I know anger; anger's when that older kid steals your lunch money in school. Anger's when no one believes he's stealing your money, and when your parents scream at you for being so irresponsible.

Anger's when you snap, and you smash his head against a table.

I know anger. Had to do quite a lot of therapy because of it. And you know what; I'm glad I did. Anger is exhausting, it's not a pleasant feeling, for you or whoever you're mad at. It's much better once you get that under control.

But I always did wonder, do people really feel more than just anger? When some asshole cuts in line, when that annoying coworker acts better than everyone, when you read about some shitty crime happening. People always say they hate those guys.

Hate's a strong word. They're just angry, they want to smash their heads against something. I know anger.

But then, every once in a while, something will happen. And it's much, much worse than anger. It's thousands, millions out on the streets, fighting for their rights. It's one mother, grieving her child, who had some truly despicable actions commited upon them. It's any number of people, in despair, in misery, their worlds torn apart. And in the face of it all, they don't complain about how it sucks. They don't snap and beat someone up.

They lose themselves. Fully lose themselves, and become either shells of people living in despair...

Or they go on to do something far worse than smashing heads on tables.

That's not anger. I know anger. I don't know that.

At least, I didn't.

Jackie took me to an antique store. She knows I'm a sucker for this kind of stuff. All the old, dusty things, with long forgotten histories and half remembered tales. There's just something about it, you know? It's poetic, I guess.

Also there's some cool knives or daggers every once in a while. But mostly the poetic thing.

We wandered through the place, looking at empty wardrobes, fancy mirrors, silvery pocket watches. She cracked a few jokes. I laughed. I really enjoy being with her. It's like I'm more relaxed just because she's there. I don't know if it's friendship or something more, but I don't really care. What we are to each other doesn't matter. That we're there is the important part. She was there for me through therapy, when most other kids wouldn't come near me. I was there for her through her mother's cancer, probably the worst time in her life. We were both there for each other whenever shit got tough. To be honest, if she weren't there, I don't know if I wouldn't be in prison for letting anger get the best of me.

Hell, I don't even know if I'd still be here.

She got a call, and had to go home. She lives in the woods, a bit far away. It's isolated, but she likes it, so I suppose it's a pretty alright place. I stayed, and looked through the store one more time.

Then, something caught my eye. Maybe I didn't see it before, maybe it wasn't there. A weird blade, like a slightly large dagger, covered in soot and ash, its hilt wrapped in deep crimson leather.

Needless to say, it was cool as hell, so I took it home. Didn't know where it would look good, so I left it in the closet. The rest of the day went on as normal.

Then, the next morning, the whole world was ending. My world, at least.

There was a fire, in the woods where Jackie lives. It was a windy night, and the plants were dried up, so it spread quickly. The whole scene looked like Hell on Earth. And right there, reduced to a few charred remnants, was Jackie's home. It had been surrounded by the fire.

They couldn’t get her out in time.

I had never felt such despair and misery. I had never felt such anger. But when I got there, and the firemen were talking about suspected arson...

I had never felt that before. I didn't know what it was. But if whoever set that fire was in front of me right then, I don't know if I would've stopped at bashing heads.

I went back there, late at night. I don't know why. I felt like I had to.

I brought the dagger. I don't know why. I felt like it needed me to.

I stood at what used to be the front of Jackie's house. Something in me still refused to believe it, still hoped she'd magically open this burnt remnant of a door and invite me in. But I knew that wouldn't happen. I almost broke down in tears right then and there.

But then I heard a voice.

"Good damage, huh? You were right, the dry woods really helped."

All my grief. All my sadness. All my anger.

Everything was subsumed by a need to drive this rusty dagger into the throat that dared say those words.

Three guys walked into view. Young, but adults. Fully grown men. Men who vote, men who can drive, men who can drink.

Men who set fire to forests for shits and giggles. Who does that? What kind of monster has that little self awareness?

"Shit, you think that's the homeowner?"

"Nah, the homeowner died, I think."

These three mosters, it seems.

Let me ask again. Have you ever felt wrath? Not anger. Anger is when you want to beat someone up, to make them admit they wrong, and you were right, to wipe away every injustice.

Have you ever wanted, more than anything, to kill a person? Not thinking about it. Wanting to do it. Whishing they'd just show their face so you could end it. Knowing they have a life, family, friends, and not giving a single shit. Every fiber of your being, begging you to end that miserable excuse of a life.

If you have, I'm sorry. It truly is a terrible feeling.

It's much more than anger. It's real, undistilled hatred.

It's wrath.

I don't know when I got near the three men. I don't know when I pulled out the dagger. But I'm far too keenly aware of the moment when I held out my hand, grabbed one of them by the hair, and shoved the blade in his throat.

When I got angry and hit people, I always had this moment of "Holy shit! What have I done! I'm sorry!".

Not here. All I could think about was that it wasn't nearly enough.

The others started screaming. Yelling something. I don't know what. I could hear them, but I wasn't listening at this point.

I tore the dagger out of the first one's throat, along with bits of his trachea. It felt dirty. I didn't care.

Usually, I'd also be screaming. Anger goes away faster if you scream it out. For me, at least. Not this, though. This was quiet. Every single drop of energy I had left was dedicated to making their deaths as miserable as possible.

I swiped at an eye. I don't know whose, but I know it was torn from their skull. It felt horrible. I didn't care.

The blade started glowing orange-red. I didn't pay much attention. I was too focused on chasing after the one running away. I swiped at his legs, and the muscles were cut apart like the string of a rope. It felt wrong. I didn't care.

Everything's a blurr. I slashed, and pierced, and cut apart, and cut open, and cut away. All the while thinking, It's not enough. They deserved Hell, true Hell, for this.

The blade grew brighter, red hot. Their screams grew louder, and their flesh sizzled and boiled. I don't know how they were still alive. I didn't really care. In fact, I was thankful for it.

I didn't realise back then, but the feeling never went away. No matter how much I made them suffer, it stayed, and it whispered, It's not enough. It's not Hell. Only Hell is good enough for them.

I don't know how it happened. I wasn't thinking throughout it all. But at some point, the blade was enveloped in flame, and their screams grew unbearably loud, until suddenly they went quiet. Unmoving, unspeaking. The life gone from the corpses. But their souls were still here.

I don't know how I know that. But their souls are in the blade. It is Hell, the only place good enough for them. They will suffer an eternity aflame.

You know, it's ironic. When I got angry, I'd sometimes fantasize about things like this. Just killing whomever I thought I hated. But most people don't hate, not truly. And now, having done this, I don't feel vindicated. I don't feel better. I feel even worse.

Most people don't feel wrath. That's probably for the best. It's not an unnatural feeling, but it comes with such a crushing weight on the soul, that any who truly know it have probably fallen into despair.

-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-

AN: this was increasingly depressing to write. I hope it's slightly less depressing to read. I really don't like the concept of misery porn, and just writing disaster for the sake of disaster, so I hope it doesn't come across as that. Though maybe that's a bit of what it is. With the theme I had in mind, it kind of had to turn out like this.

[luisjuanmilton]

have u ever thought about writing something, that includes a crash? Like Seb crashing his Car because it's shitty or someone else or he himself made a mistake and it looks really bad for a second but it turns out to be fine? Sebchal or Sewis 👁️👄👁️

Not me making this be 2k words... I am so sorry anon I got very carried away 🤍

Sebastian Vettel/Charles Leclerc

(tw for description of a crash that results in a concussion, but rest assured it’s not very graphic and everyone’s perfectly okay in the end)

Sebastian thought that every driver had a sixth sense about crashes.

It was like an instinct, something that warned you about what was going to happen seconds before it actually did.

Which was why, as he took a corner and went a little too wide, the car just barely clipping the border of the track, he knew to instantly let go of the steering wheel.

Something had to be amiss with the car, because there was no way it should have reacted that violently to such a tiny error, but before he knew it the car was upside down.

His Ferrari rolled around for what seemed like hours but realistically had to have been only seconds, only coming to an abrupt stop when it collided against the barriers with a sickening thud, the force of the impact making Sebastian’s head slam against the side of his seat before everything went black for a moment.

When Seb came back around he could hear a shrill ringing noise in his ears, and he felt a little dizzy both from the crash itself and because he was still hanging upside down.

It took him a couple of minutes to actually become aware of what was happening, and he blinked slowly as he tried to get rid of the black spots that were dancing in front of his vision.

“Sebastian? Sebastian, please respond”

And Sebastian really tried to do that, but his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. His mind was thankfully clearer, until he was conscious enough to take account of all his body parts and confirm to himself that he was alright.

His head did hurt like a motherfucker, but all things considered he thought that it could have been a lot worse. He really wasn’t looking forward to having to see any bright lights in the foreseeable future though.

“Sebastian”

Oh right, the team were probably expecting an answer.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the only thing he could get out was a pitiful groan. Alright, so maybe his concussion was a little worse than he thought.

“Sebastian, can you confirm you’re alright?”

And well wasn’t it a surprise to hear Mattia’s voice. He even sounded worried, which could have fooled Sebastian.

Okay, that was a little mean.

And he was now talking to himself inside his head. Great.

Right before he was going to try to give a verbal answer once more, he felt his vision go even darker than it already was, and he somehow managed to turn his head to the right to find who he assumed was a marshal kneeling next to the car.

“Mr. Vettel, can you move?”

It probably took Sebastian longer than it should’ve to answer, but after thinking it through he decided that he could at least try.

“Mr. Vettel?”

Oh right, words.

“Y-Yeah” he finally managed to get out, even if his voice sounded like a croaky mess to his ears.

The marshal looked visibly relieved after hearing it though, and Sebastian for the first time wondered exactly how bad the crash looked from the outside.

After being asked if he was bleeding (to which he answered “I don’t think so”), the man instructed him to unclasp his seatbelts, and he couldn’t help the startled yelp that left his mouth after he did that and fell headfirst into the awaiting arms of the marshal.

He was pulled out from under the car in a very unceremonious way, but even after being freed from the metal contraption he found that he was way too tired to move without some sort of assistance, so he allowed himself to be manhandled by the unknown man.

“Do you think you can stand up?”

Sebastian grumbled, if he was being perfectly honest, what he really wanted to do was lay in the floor and take a nap.

The marshal chuckled “I don’t think that’ll be possible right now sir”

Had he said that out loud?

“Yes”

Oh.

“We better get you checked for a concussion as soon as possible” the marshal replied, sounding both worried and a little amused by the entire situation.

Sebastian hummed in agreement, and before he knew it, he was being lifted in the marshal’s arms, the man doing it with an ease that made it seemed like he weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

The man was careful not to move his head too much as he placed him on an awaiting stretcher, and Seb let out a happy sigh at the feeling of the cushion below him. Now he could finally take that nap.

“Please try not to fall asleep Mr. Vettel”

Or not.

A couple of paramedics lifted the stretcher and placed him inside the ambulance, and only then did they carefully remove Sebastian’s helmet, making him wince as he was suddenly faced with the incredibly bright white lights of the vehicle.

The doctor asked him a couple of questions that only took him a little more effort than usual to answer, like what date it was, how much was seven times nine, when he had won his first championship and which country they were currently in.

He thought he had passed the test with flying colors, but the doctor still insisted on driving him to the nearest hospital and conducting a proper examination.

And he still wasn’t allowed to take his nap.

All the fancy tests did was confirm that he was in fact alright, and with every minute that passed he felt the concussion-induced ditziness fading away.

The return to his usual mental state coincided with the small tv screen that was hanging on the corner of his hospital room playing images from his accident, and he felt dread rising in his chest as he saw just how bad the wreckage looked from an outsider’s point of view.

He even felt worried when he saw his limp body getting pulled out from the cockpit, and he obviously knew that he was alright.

“Ah, fuck” he cursed, hoping with all his might that someone had announced that he was perfectly alright by now.

Although if the footage being replayed over and over again without any sign of an update of his condition was anything to go by, he seriously doubted it.

Someone really had to do something about F1’s tendency to show such traumatizing images to their stupidly large audience.

With that thought in mind he shut the tv off, and without the noise coming from it he thought he could hear a very familiar voice screaming down the hall.

“Do I look like I give a shit about not being his family?! You will let me through at once! Mais bon sang pour qui vois prenez-vous?”

Sebastian had to stifle a laugh. Oh, he knew who that voice belonged to alright.

“Sir please calm down –“

“Do not tell me to calm down! Tell me where I can find Sebastian!”

The voices kept growing louder, and Seb sat up straighter in his bed so he could look out of the room’s windows that showed the hospital’s corridors.

“I can’t give you that information sir, I don’t even know how you got past security –“

“Ta gueule! Just tell me where he is!”

As amusing as it was to hear him curse out hospital staff in french, Sebastian thought it was in everybody’s best interests to put a stop to his rampage.

“Charles, I’m over here”

The noise instantly died out at the sound of his voice, and it was replaced by thundering footsteps as Charles followed after it and finally stopped in front of his room’s open door.

And as soon as Sebastian laid eyes on him, any trace of amusement he had felt instantly fizzled out.

“Sebastian?” Charles choked out, his usually confident voice sounding incredibly small as he clearly tried to fight back tears.

The German felt his heart clench at how red and puffy his usually bright green eyes looked, and if all those tell-tale signs of crying weren’t enough, there were also dried tear tracks running down his face.

“Hey Charlie” Sebastian smiled softly, but any reassurance he thought that might have had was quickly discarded as Charles’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“I thought you were dead” the younger man gasped, crossing the room with two long strides and all but launching himself on top of Sebastian.

He instinctively brought his arms around Charles’s shoulders, holding him close to his chest as his shoulders heaved with sobs.

“Whoa, hey it’s okay, I’m okay” Sebastian soothed, tracing circles over his back in what he hoped was a calming motion.

“You took so long to answer, and no one was telling me anything” Charles hiccuped, face still firmly buried on Seb’s chest “a-and, and then I saw the footage and when they pulled you out of the car – merde, Seb. I thought I had lost you too”

And well, Sebastian truly thought the despair that tinted Charles’s voice was more painful than any crash could ever be. He would genuinely give away all he owned just to never hear him sound so broken again.

“But you didn’t love, you didn’t lose me” he murmured, gently moving Charles away from him so that he could actually look at his face.

Sebastian carefully brought a hand up to cradle Charles’s face, using his thumb to wipe away the tears that were still falling in a steady stream.

“I only got a concussion, I’m so sorry for making you worry”

Charles sniffled, the pitiful sound making him look even younger than he was “I-I just thought, I thought I’d never get to see you again”

“I’m right here sweetheart, I might be a little old, but you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon”

The snort he got out of Charles was enough to make a large smile appear on his face, happy to see some of the sparkle back in those eyes he loved so much.

“I’m holding you to that promise old man”

“And I intend to keep it”

With that, Sebastian leaned upwards to close the small distance that was left between them, pressing his lips against Charles in a soft kiss.

Charles’s lips tasted a little salty because of his tears, but Sebastian didn’t care in the slightest, content enough to lazily move their mouths together and feel the way the Monegasque melted into his arms as he effectively distracted him from what had happened.

His boyfriend always seemed as eager to kiss him as he had the first time, and Sebastian would be lying if he said he didn’t feel all warm and fuzzy inside to know that he was so loved and so desired by him.

Charles looked entirely more content as they separated, pressing another kiss to Seb’s cheek before making himself comfortable next to him on the bed and letting his head fall back to rest on top of his chest, Sebastian immediately starting to run his fingers through his soft black hair.

It was a position they had become incredibly familiar with during the past two years, but now it was even more comforting than it usually was for Charles, because he could actually hear Seb’s beating heart below his ear.

“How did you even get here so fast?” Sebastian asked after they had laid in comfortable silence for a while, the throbbing in his head reduced to a tiny pang by now.

“Ah, yes. Uhhh, I might have sneaked away as everyone else parked the cars and bribed a security man to take me here”

Sebastian was rendered speechless by his boyfriend’s admission, before he broke out into a fit of giggles that made his entire chest rumble with the sound, Charles eventually finding it impossible not to join in.

“You sneaky little gremlin” Seb said in between his chuckles, which only grew louder when the Monegasque turned to look at him with a smirk and a very self-satisfied look in his face.

“I did learn from the best”

“That you did”

The two fell silent again after that, and it didn’t take long at all before they drifted off to sleep, the events of the day being entirely too much for them to handle.

And that was how a gaggle of worried drivers found them hours later, with Lewis just barely being able to stop the younger men (and Daniel) from storming into the room and waking up the couple.

The Brit smiled fondly at the sight of Charles carefully snuggled up against Sebastian’s side, a protective arm firmly planted across the older man’s waist. They were both wearing content looks on their faces, and not for the first time he felt incredibly glad that they had found each other.

“Okay boys, we can come back later. It’s better if we let them sleep it off”

Lewis carefully closed the door to the room as he herded the others away, but not before taking at least fifty pictures of the happy couple that would certainly come in handy as blackmail material some other time.    

[eddiesasspbrak]

Familiar

Eddie is dragged to a comedy show by his coworkers and something about the comedian is so...familiar.

Part of my “I’d rearrange the alphabet to put U and I together” series

Read on AO3

A B C D E

7k+ words

Minors DNI

Something about this man felt familiar.

When Eddie’s coworkers invited him out for a drink, he was inclined to say no. He wasn’t one for socializing outside of the workplace and drinking in front of them added the risk of getting drunk and saying or doing something stupid. The last thing he needed was a joke about his behavior going around the office for years because of the one night out he chose to let loose.

Then there was the Myra of it all. If she knew he was going out for a drink, she would harass him through text and phone calls until he came home. He knew she had an app that allowed her to track him via GPS and he couldn’t figure out how to turn it off. She could just as easily find out where he was and show up, ready to cry or scream to manipulate him into doing what she wanted. Of course, Eddie would let her because she was his wife and he’d chosen this life with her.

Still, there was a part of Eddie that wanted to be carefree for one night. As long as he limited himself to two drinks and stayed hydrated, he would be ok. He texted Myra and told her that the pub they were going to was run by a potential new client for his insurance firm and she believed him easily. He rarely lied to her, so it was easy to get away with it when he did. There were some bigger secrets he kept from her. Like how he wasn’t sure he loved her as more than a friend and how he realized he only liked men and often dreamed about reliving some college one-night stands with other men he’d met along the way. It wasn’t important for her to know.

A simple lie about where he was going and why was innocent enough. He wasn’t interested in any of his coworkers romantically or sexually, so it’s not like he’d have to lie any further to cover up an affair. He didn’t have it in him to cheat anyway. He may not have loved his wife romantically, but he’d be damned if he took the cowards way out. If he found someone else he wanted to be with, he’d end it with her first like a decent human being.

His coworkers were ecstatic when he agreed to go with them. He never wanted to go out with them. The club they were going to had special events that required tickets and one of them had acquired nine at a discounted cost thanks to a connection with the club owner. Eddie didn’t have much interest in the comedy act that would be going on around them and planned to stay focused on his level of intoxication instead. A night of freedom was just that and he was going to enjoy himself no matter what he had to do to accomplish that.

There was a line going down the street of people waiting for admission. Due to Harold’s connection, they were able to bypass the line, much to Eddie’s relief. Standing in a line in the heat for hours was not worth getting a few drinks. Inside was already bustling with people and Eddie’s attention went immediately to locating their waitress and flagging her down.

The jokes at his expense already began as his coworkers made comments about him letting loose. They’d never expected him to be a drinker. They thought for sure he’d sip on water and iced tea (not the long island kind) all night. When he ordered a shot and a beer (the shot was mostly ordered to shut them up), they quickly quieted down. Though he was actually a light weight from years of barely drinking at all because of Myra. He could tell they were trying to assess if they really knew the true Eddie Kaspbrak and he could easily answer that for them. No. Nobody knew the real Eddie. Not even Myra.

The room went dark, a spotlight trained on the stage and the crowd erupted in applause as the comedian for the night took the stage. Curious, Eddie followed suit and looked up the man. They had a relatively close table, able to see the guy perfectly from where they sat. Eddie immediately recognized him. He’d seen his shows on Comedy Central a few times. He used to think he was funny but in the last few years, his routine completely changed, and Eddie didn’t think he was good anymore. It was like someone else entirely was writing his material. Myra always hated him.

As he began his routine, a strange feeling struck Eddie. There was something oddly familiar about this man. He told himself it was just because he was familiar with his work, but it was more than that. He had this feeling, like a distant memory, that he had spoken to him before. He’d called out his name, touched his hands. Maybe it was a dream. After all, he wasn’t unattractive, and it wouldn’t be the first time Eddie had had a dream about a celebrity he was attracted to.

He barely listened to the jokes as he chased the fleeting memory, trying to figure out just what had happened in his dream. Hopefully, nothing too graphic as he was in public with the people he worked with and he didn’t need to get himself worked up. Especially given the actual man himself was on stage.

“Richie!” He heard his own, younger voice calling out in his head. If they were children in his dream, that opened another line of questions that he couldn’t quite answer.

Harold was laughing beside him and clapped a hand down on Eddie’s shoulder. “He’s funny, right?” He asked.

Eddie focused on what the guy was saying for a second, wondering if he’d reverted back to his actual funny jokes. He only heard the tail end of a joke, specifically, “try telling that to my girlfriend.” Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“That dude does not have a girlfriend. He’s full of shit.” He mumbled mostly to himself.

“Are you sure? Maybe he’s talking about an ex-girlfriend.”

Eddie wasn’t sure how he knew, but he believed with every ounce of himself that Richie Tozier did not and never did have a girlfriend. He didn’t know why. Richie had never once talked about being gay. No one really speculated that he was either. Other than the fans who shipped him with other comedians he was friends with and that was all fantasy. Part of him wondered if it was just his wishful thinking. Not that he would cheat on his wife and hook up with a random comedian if he were gay. And interested in Eddie.

The show went on and Eddie kept himself delightfully tipsy but not drunk. Enough to get through the painfully unfunny jokes but keep himself from making a fool of himself. His coworkers were laughing along with the rest of the crowd while Eddie quietly heckled. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, but he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Usually something that only happened when he was comfortable with someone. His coworkers seemed to be enjoying this side of him but the people sitting at the table next to them, did not.

“Dude, shut the fuck up. I can’t hear the jokes.” The man sitting closest to him snapped.

“You’re welcome.” Eddie quipped and when he looked back toward the stage, Richie was looking right at their table.

Their eyes met and he stuttered his words, an unreadable expression passing over his face before he caught himself and picked back up where he’d messed up making a self-deprecating joke about forgetting his lines. Eddie sat frozen, a chill going through him. He’d felt something and he was sure Richie felt it too. For the brief second their eyes were locked it felt like he was looking up at an old friend. Part of him wanted to get up and leave with some lame excuse to his coworkers that his wife needed him home. He didn’t need this uncertainty of being drawn to someone he’d never met like he was a past lover. It was unfamiliar and made it hard to breathe.

A memory of a conversation with Myra clicked into his mind. She’d been talking about soulmates, saying that they always find one another from one life to the next and the connection is instantaneous. She was talking about the two of them and Eddie had just nodded along, not contributing because he knew she was wrong. If there was such a thing as soulmates, she was not his. The idea that Richie fucking Tozier could be his soulmate was ludicrous and he felt like a jackass for having that thought at all even if it was just a passing thought.

“I have to pee.” Eddie mumbled as he staggered to his feet and made his way through the tables toward the bathroom. As he pushed through the door, forgetting to use his elbow instead of his hand, he heard Richie on stage saying, “I’m Trashmouth Tozier, goodnight!” and he felt dizzy. Echoes of his own voice calling out “Trashmouth” filled his ears as he made his way to the sink, pressing his hands against the cold porcelain to support himself.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe he was drunker than he realized and that’s why his head was spinning. Either way, he felt like he was strapped to a chair, his eyes pried open being forced to watch images flash by on a screen. Images that were being crammed into his brain through his ear making his head throb, but he couldn’t actually see them. That distant dream you can vaguely remember when waking but it slowly fades away into oblivion again.

“You ok?” Eddie startled at the voice. He hadn’t even heard the door open.

��I’m fine.” He said, turning on the tap and splashing water in his face.

“Too much to drink?” Eddie didn’t respond this time. He just wanted to get out of there, go home and sleep. The intruder on his mini breakdown wasn’t taking his silence as a hint though. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Eddie finally lifted his head, taking a look at the guy though the mirror. What he saw, had him whirling around, a bad choice with the way he was feeling. He stumbled back against the sink, catching himself and hitting his wrist against the edge of the sink. Richie was leaning against the side of the stall door, his hands in his pockets.

It took a second for Eddie’s brain to reconnect to the present situation. When it did, the first thing to tumble from his lips was, “that’s a really shitty pickup line.”

Richie cracked a smile. “All pickup lines are shitty. I’m being serious though. Do you come to my shows often?”

“No. First time.”

“Did you enjoy the show?”

“Not even a little bit.” Eddie hadn’t meant to say that. He’d intended to lie and say it was great, but something about this guy made him want to be honest. He wasn’t afraid to tell him the truth. That feeling of familiarity sat tugging at his mind.

“Yea, I kind of noticed. I didn’t see you laugh once.”

“That room was packed. No way you were paying attention to me. You’re attempts to hit on me are really lame.”

“I was, though. I was trying to place where I know you. And I always watch the crowd to see if everyone is laughing. It’s kind of a blow to my confidence when there’s someone out there who doesn’t find my jokes funny.”

“They aren’t funny. They’re full of shit. Your old stuff was better.”

Richie appeared shocked. “So, you’re familiar with my work then. I thought you said this was your first show.”

“First live show I guess. I used to watch your stuff online. Before you stopped being funny.”

“Let me get this straight…you’re a fan but you don’t want me to hit on you in a public bathroom?”

“I’m not a fan, there’s no way you could get anything straight and I’m technically married. So, no.”

“Technically married? Like, separated? Getting a divorce?”

“No…I’m…I guess I’m actually married.”

“Oh.”

Eddie felt sick again, the waves of nausea crashing down and making him want to puke. He sounded disappointed and Eddie hated that. Why did he get married? Oh yea, because he shoved himself in the closet and she was obsessed with him. He used her and that knowledge was a constant pit of guilt sitting solid in his gut on a daily basis. He’d been so freaked out on their wedding day he’d almost run away. Having sex the first few times was awkward, and he had to drink quite a bit at the reception to even get hard and then he thought about the guy he used to hook up with in college. Tall, broad shoulders, thick biceps and thighs. He could hold Eddie up against the wall while he fucked up into him hard and fast.

That was not a memory he needed in his head while standing alone in a bathroom with someone he was definitely attracted to. Immediately he was picturing Richie pushing him up against the bathroom door, fucking him while he held a hand over his mouth to keep anyone from hearing his loud, slutty moans. A shiver went down his spine and he had to look away.

“Well, if I were hitting on you that would suck.” Richie chuckled awkwardly.

“What do you mean if?” Now distracted by Richie’s bullshit, Eddie was back to treating this perfect stranger as if he’d known him for years and was close with him. Could he really blame it all on the alcohol and the feeling of familiarity? Was it because he was attracted to him and really wanted to feel those big hands on his skin? “You were clearly disappointed when I said I was married.”

“I…have a girlfriend. Didn’t you hear my jokes about her?”

“That was bullshit. You didn’t even write those jokes.”

Richie’s eyes widened as his genuine smile returned to his face. “Why are you so sure I didn’t write my jokes?”

“Because your jokes used to be funny and they aren’t now.”

“Maybe I used to have someone else write for me and I write for myself now.”

Eddie hadn’t actually thought about that being a possibility. He was just so sure that the old jokes were his own words. He was beginning to think maybe he insulted him by saying his new stuff is bad since he didn’t write it when Richie began to laugh. He tried to keep it together, but the way Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed together, and his lips dropped into a frown of concern was so cute he couldn’t contain it. Eddie’s eyes snapped back up to Richie’s face and all at once his expression changed to one of annoyance.

“More bullshit. I take it back, you’re not funny at all and never were. And you’re definitely at least bi.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I can tell.”

“Ah, I just kind of assumed you were married to a woman, but I guess I was wrong. Cause like, only fellow gay people can tell right?”

“What kind of dumbassery is that? And I am married to a woman.”

“Oh. Wow. I cannot read people at all. I really thought you were gay.”

“I am.” Eddie felt like his heart stopped. He’d said it out loud for the first time. He used to think he was bi but ever since realizing his truth, he’d never said it out loud. Why the fuck was he blurting it out to this man in the middle of a public bathroom where anyone could walk in? He just couldn’t understand what was making him feel like an old friend he could confide all his deepest darkest secrets to. This was dangerous and he needed to leave. “I have to go.”

Eddie made his way to the door but was stopped by Richie using his long legs to get in front of him. “Wait, you can’t go without telling me your name.”

“What? Why?”

“You know my name.”

“You’re a celebrity. Everyone here knows your name.” Richie made it clear he wasn’t going to move until he gave it up and Eddie sighed in annoyance. “Fine. I’m Eddie.”

“Eddie…?”

“Kaspbrak. Now can you please move? My coworkers definitely think I’m taking a massive shit or passed out on the floor.”

“Sure thing Eddie Kaspbrak.”

Richie stepped to the side and Eddie wasted no time crashing through the door back into the dim light of the club. Outside the door stood a big buff bodyguard and a line of men stood waiting to pee. He’d actually stopped anyone from entering the bathroom after him. He definitely intended to seduce Eddie into fucking in the bathroom stall. Ignoring this, he made his way back to the table and found his coworkers still there discussing the show.

“Hey, Eddie, we thought you ditched us.” Harold grinned.

“No, sorry, there was a line in the bathroom.” He kind of lied. There had been a line, he had just sort of been the cause of it. “I do have to go though. I’ll see you all at work Monday.”

They each said goodbye and then Eddie was off into the night before Richie decided to follow after him. He wasn’t sure he could ignore the desire to drag him back to this car and ride him in the backseat if he saw him again. Better to rush home before he made a mistake.

----

When Eddie arrived home, Myra was unsurprisingly still awake waiting for him. He told her the meeting went well but she should head to bed without him as he needed a shower to wash the smell of the club off of him. Really he just needed to be alone and it was the only option. He’d banned her from sneaking into the shower with him after she tried to use two in one shampoo and conditioner on him. That wasn’t a thing and he only used professional hypoallergenic products recommended by his stylist.

Once under the hot stream of water, he closed his eyes, resting one hand against the wall to help support himself. That night wasn’t the first night he’d been tempted to go home with a stranger, but this time was different. He hadn’t actually touched him, but he swore he could feel his hands on his body, his fingers in his hair. A shiver went down his spine, his skin tingling where imaginary fingers traced over his body. The sound of his name from Richie’s mouth filled his mind as if he were there, whispering it over and over.

Before Eddie could even think, his fingers were wrapping around his dick, already hard just from his own imagination. He closed his eyes, focusing on how his face looked so close and in person, the sound of his laugh, the way one side of his mouth lifted up higher than the other when he smiled. He let his mind run wild, imagining what would have happened if he’d given in and stayed in that filthy bathroom with Richie.

“Eddie…Eddie…” His voice echoed in his head, making him shiver. With the door blocked by his bodyguard, there was no need to cram into a tiny stall, he thought. Instead, Richie would bend him over one of the sinks, his hands gripping the cold porcelain, his bare belly pressed against the edge. He wondered what it would be like to be fucked by Richie. How big he was, how long he could hold out. Had he even been with a guy before and did he prefer to receive? It didn’t matter really, because this was his fantasy and in it, Richie was perfect and knew exactly what Eddie needed.

In real time, Eddie had his shoulder pressed hard against the shower wall, one hand still jacking himself off, the other knuckle deep inside him while in his head Richie was pounding into him. He was close and part of his brain told him to bite down on his lip to stay quiet, so he wasn’t heard. He told himself it was because they were in a public bathroom, but he knew the real reason, the one who was likely listening outside the door for any noise. She would barge in and say she thought he fell in the shower if she heard any unusual noise, so he bit down until it hurt because he didn’t want to think about that. Not when Richie was deep inside him, moaning out his name and Eddie was close, so close…

He took a sharp inhale, spilling over his fingers and onto the shower floor. He knew that wasn’t great for the pipes as it washed away, but just a little wasn’t so bad, right? His head was a muddled cloud of post orgasm bliss and while the fantasy was quickly fading, he could still hear Richie’s voice echoing his name in his head. Over and over while Eddie reaching around the shower curtain for toilet paper to clean off his hand, while he quickly washed himself up and let the water run cold to calm himself down before leaving the safety and privacy of the bathroom. It continued as he shut off the water and wrapped himself in a towel and then his robe, repeating as he wiped the fog from the mirror and stared into his still wide pupils. It wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t will his voice away and then… “Eds!” the voice was younger, but he was absolutely sure that it was Richie.

The shock caused him to gasp, that same dizzy feeling he’d felt in the club coming back to him. A knock came from the door a second later followed by Myra’s frantic voice. “Eddie? Are you ok? I thought I heard something!”

Trying to calm himself, he took a deep breath before responding. “I’m fine. Just thought I saw a spider. I’ll be out in a second.” He knew she’d been sitting there ever since she heard the water start up. She always did. He could hear her footsteps going back down the hall toward the bedroom and he knew if he didn’t hurry she’d just come right back and demand he open the door. Grabbing another towel, he dried his hair a bit before bringing out the dryer. His mom had told him at a young age that it was never good to go to bed with wet hair and Myra felt the same way.

Hair dry and head calmed, he left the bathroom and the fantasy of Richie Tozier behind.

----

SpaghettiMan: Is it cheating to masturbate to someone else?

Eddie sat at his desk at work a few days later, the guilt of his almost-but-not-really with Richie sitting in his stomach all weekend. He’d wanted to talk to his friend about it, but it wasn’t safe to communicate with her at home. He’d met her in an online support group a few months before. She was also in a bad, controlling marriage though her husband was violent toward her and constantly accused her of cheating. They didn’t know each other’s real names, it wasn’t allowed in the group, but they’d become close and had moved to a private room where they could talk just the two of them. He’d created a stupid username that had been stuck in his head for years without any explanation but definitely hid who he really was. Now, he waited for her to respond, chewing the inside of his lip.

WinterFire: I’m sorry…what?

SpaghettiMan: I had the opportunity to cheat and I didn’t! I’m a good man…but I did go home and masturbate while thinking about them.

WinterFire: Wow, um…ok. I guess it’s better than screwing your wife while thinking about them, maybe?

SpaghettiMan: Oh god…

WinterFire: Does your wife know?

SpaghettiMan: Of course not! I don’t even sleep with her anymore unless she gets me really, really drunk.

WinterFire: So…who was it?

SpaghettiMan: What?

WinterFire: The almost. Who was it?

SpaghettiMan: Is that important?

WinterFire: Absolutely. If you want me to judge you then I need all the details.

Eddie’s fingers hesitated over the keys. He hadn’t told her that he was gay. It was anonymous, but if he gave her the name of a celebrity thought to be straight, it would open a whole can of worms. He decided it was ok to tell her about himself, but he wouldn’t give away Richie’s name.

SpaghettiMan: It was…a guy.

WinterFire: Oh

His heart pounded in his chest as he watched the typing bubbles appear and disappear several times. Part of him had always been afraid that she was really Myra pretending to be someone else to get information out of him, though he didn’t know if she was actually capable of that. Finally, the chat chime came from his speakers.

WinterFire: So, you’re bi? Or pan?

SpaghettiMan: I’m gay

His fingers shook as he hit send. Twice now he’d admitted it in just a few short days. It was terrifying and liberating all at the same time. Like the weight of the world was lifted off of his shoulders for just a moment while laced with fear of the unknown. How would she react? Before she could, his fingers were flying over the keys.

SpaghettiMan: I thought I was bi for a long time. I slept with men in college but also some women.

SpaghettiMan: I met my wife and she loved me, and I thought I loved her, so we got married and then I realized.

SpaghettiMan: I didn’t want to hurt her but also she’s…well you know what she’s like from the stories I’ve told you. I don’t know if I could get away if I tried. She’s so manipulative, I don’t know what she’d do if I told her the truth and left.

WinterFires: Hey, it’s ok. You don’t have to defend yourself to me. Sexuality is a crazy thing.

WinterFires: I’ve for sure had more than one woman in my bed. Sometimes at the same time.

She added a little winking emoji after that, and Eddie felt himself calming down.

WinterFires: Maybe this is something you should tell the group. I want to help but I’m not really sure what to say. I don’t think what you did counts as cheating, but I do think you need to find a way to tell her the truth. She deserves a man who can handle her toxic ass and actually wants to sleep with her, and you deserve to be happy and live your truth.

He contemplated what she said for the rest of the day. She wasn’t wrong, but if it were that easy, he’d have done it already. Still, he trusted her and her opinion so the next meeting they had, he’d bring it up. He’d already said it twice, what was once more?

----

As the days went by, Eddie couldn’t get Richie out of his head. He haunted his dreams, sometimes they were younger and sometimes they were nightmares where they were running from…something. He could never fully remember the dreams all he knew was that Richie was there. Sometimes there were other people. Always five, always blurred so he couldn’t see them. Only one had any discernible features – red hair. Beyond that, it was as if he was looking at them through foggy glass.

One thing was certain, Richie Tozier had burrowed his way into Eddie’s brain and taken up permanent residence. He started watching his older routines again, finding clips online and on streaming services. Eventually he made it to his new stuff. And, while he still didn’t think the new stuff was funny, he couldn’t stop watching.

When the weekend rolled around once more, he felt like a teenager who hadn’t seen their crush all week. So, against his better judgement, he approached Harold with an invitation to go back to the club for drinks. Harold had definitely been surprised but had agreed and invited along a group of their coworkers to join, making a night of it. Eddie told Myra they had to go back to the club to go over some paperwork with the owner. This time, the lie made him feel guilty. He wasn’t lying to enjoy a night of relaxation; he was lying so he could attempt to see the man he was interested in. This definitely counted as cheating, right?

The line wasn’t as bad this time as there were no big-name comedians performing, so they’d waited their turn to be allowed inside. His coworkers chatted happily while Eddie felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin from nervous energy. Where were the odds he was even there? He’d only been at the club last weekend because he had a show. He was paid to be there. This was stupid. He was stupid. He should just fake illness and go home to his wife. But then they were at the front, paying admission to see a band he didn’t know, and he didn’t stop.

The inside was the same as before, but this time a band occupied the stage playing a song he’d never heard before. They claimed a table and Eddie’s eyes scanned the room for a familiar face. There was no sign of him, or his big bodyguard. Of course, he wasn’t there. Eddie was just a one time attempted pick up and he hadn’t thought of him since. Anything Eddie had imagined was just that…imaginary.

“You ok Kaspbrak?” Harold asked.

“Yea, I’m fine. I just suddenly feel really tired. I think going out today was actually a bad idea.” He felt so sad and then felt stupid for feeling sad.

“What? Really? You created this night out and now you’re tapping out just as it’s getting started?” Harold looked disappointed.

“I’m really sorry. Maybe I’m coming down with something. We can try again next week, ok?”

He didn’t wait for a response as he stood and headed for the door. As he exited onto the nearly dark street, he wondered what he was doing. He was married, what was he planning to do? What if Richie had been there? It wouldn’t make a difference or change his circumstances. If he wanted to pursue hot guys in clubs, he needed to first get a divorce. He was acting on impulse and it was time to reign it in.

Part of his mind kept telling him to go back. Just because he wasn’t there, didn’t mean he wouldn’t show up. That was precisely the kind of thought he was trying to remove, so he ignored it and kept walking.

----

The rest of the weekend, Eddie stayed home and watched things that had absolutely nothing to do with a certain comedian. He had lunch and dinner with Myra and on Sunday, over a dinner of all her favorite foods, he told her.

“What are you talking about? Don’t be silly, Eddie.” She said with a wave of her hand, dismissing what he’d just said.

“I’m serious, Myra. When we met and got married I thought I liked women too and maybe on some small level I do, but I want to be with a man. I want a divorce.”

She slammed her glass down on the table, her face turning red. “Who? Who is this man you want to be with?”

“There isn’t anyone specific. I just think it’s time I find someone.”

“You already have someone! Me!”

“You know what I mean, Myra. And you deserve to find someone too.”

“You’re just being ridiculous. You’ve got a fever and are delirious. I’ll call your doctor in the morning.”

“I’m not sick, I’m not delirious. This has been on my mind for a long time. I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, but it’s time.”

“I won’t hear anymore of this!” She stood from the table. “I’m going to have a nice hot bath and then I’m going to bed. In the morning we’ll both be thinking a lot clearer and you’ll see that this was just foolishness.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, she left the room. A moment later, Eddie could hear the water running in the bathtub. Sighing, he cleared the table, loaded the dishwasher and put away all of the leftovers. With her still in the bath, he went to the room they shared and packed a bag with pajamas, toiletries and a suit for work. He was in his car and headed to a hotel before she emerged from the bathroom.

----

Eddie was sat at his desk the next day, chat window opened on his screen and feeing exhausted. He’d tossed and turned all night, anxiety about how difficult things were about to become plaguing his mind. He’d checked out of the hotel that morning, his things in the trunk of his car, but he figured he’d be back there or at another hotel that night.

SpaghettiMan: I did it. I told her everything (mostly) and slept in a hotel last night.

WinterFires: Holy crap! Good for you, dude! I’m proud of you.

SpaghettiMan: Thanks. It was pretty awful. I actually left when she was bathing, and my phone has been turned off, so I have no idea what she’s doing or thinking right now.

“Hey, Eddie.” He turned in his chair to see one of the assistants standing close by. “You’ve got a visitor. They said to meet them out in the parking lot.”

“What?” He looked toward the front entrance and saw no one standing there.

“Yea, it’s kind of weird. Do you need me to call the police or…?”

“No, it’s ok. I’ll handle it.”

SpaghettiMan: She may have just shown up at my work. I have a visitor waiting in the parking lot. If I’m not back in ten minutes, I’m probably dead.

WinterFires: Oh shit, be careful ok?

Eddie’s stomach twisted in knots as he road the elevator down to the ground floor. He tried to see who it was through the front windows but there were several people outside and he didn’t know who it was waiting for him. He went to the desk in the lobby and approached the security guard.

“Hi, so I’m Edward Kaspbrak, I work upstairs. I’m about to go meet some stranger out in the parking lot. I’m sure it’s nothing, but if you see anything go down can you…interfere?” He felt so stupid.

“Do you…want me to go out there with you?” The guy looked out into the parking lot out of curiosity.

“No, that might be bad. Just…if a woman tries to force me into a car, call the police and tell them it was my wife.”

“Right. Ok.” The guard seemed confused and maybe a little amused, but he watched as Eddie exited the building and stood close to the window to observe.

Eddie stayed close to the building and scanned his surroundings. He didn’t see Myra, but then a tall figure with a hood and sunglasses waved in his direction. So, not Myra. A hitman maybe? Or someone hired to kidnap him and take him home? Either way, he looked back to the security guard in the window and then made his way through the parked cars to where the person was standing.

“Before you say anything, I’m guessing my wife sent you. I don’t know what she’s paying you or what she told you to do but know that I’m planning to leave her enough money in the divorce to be comfortable for a few years. Also, there’s a security guard watching us, and I’ve instructed him to call the police if you try anything.” He tried to sound confident, but his voice squeaked on the last bit.

The person smiled and removed their glasses. Richie.

“You’re a hard man to find Mr. Kaspbrak.” He grinned, tucking the glasses into his jacket pocket.

“Why are you here?” That might have sounded harsher than he intended.

“I’ve been looking for you since that night we met. I went back to that club a few times, figured it was a place you frequented. I saw the people you were with last time, but you were nowhere in sight.”

“I…was there. I just left. I was sick.”

“Well, I talked to them anyway and they told me you all worked together and after a few rounds they told me exactly where to find you.”

“Are you stalking me?” Eddie ignored the flutter in his chest and his quickly increasing heartrate.

“Flat answer, yes. I wanted to see you again. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head and I needed to find out why.”

“I…me too. What the fuck is happening?” Eddie took a step back, suddenly feeling breathless.

“Fate?”

“No, I keep having these dreams where we’re kids, and I’ve never seen you as a kid but I know it’s you and there are five others but they’re all…”

“Blurry?”

“How did you know that?”

“I’ve had the same dreams. And there’s this thing that’s trying to kill us. I think. I just know we’re scared of it.”

“You’re lying. You’re full of shit. You’ve been talking to someone. Winter…you’ve talked to her. You are her, aren’t you?”

“Who? I haven’t talked to anyone. I swear, I’m telling the truth. It’s been going on ever since I saw you that night.”

Eddie felt sick, a panic attack creeping up on him as it became harder to breathe. “Whoa, shit, you ok?” Richie asked, stepping forward. “Do you have your inhaler?”

“How?” Eddie asked between shaky breaths. “How did you know I use an inhaler?”

“Uh…lucky guess?”

Eddie shook his head and took a deep breath, holding it for ten seconds and letting it go then repeating. Richie stood close by and watched, concern in his eyes.

“Look, people are starting to stare and if I get recognized it could be a whole thing so why don’t we go get lunch somewhere and I’ll tell you everything that’s happened to me since we met, ok?”

Eddie nodded, letting out his breath in one long blow, finally feeling himself begin to calm down. “Fine, but you’re paying.”

----

Two weeks later and they weren’t any closer to finding out what their dreams meant or why they knew strange facts about each other they shouldn’t know. However, dinners and drinks and long nights talking until the sun rose, and they didn’t care anymore. Maybe it was fate bringing them together. Some cosmic thing that can’t quite be explained.

They agreed that they wouldn’t pursue a relationship until Eddie’s divorce was final, which would probably take a while with all the fits Myra was throwing. He couldn’t take care of himself, he needed her, she might be pregnant, etc. Eddie would listen to her and then make it clear that he was going forward with the divorce. Getting her to sign would be another obstacle all together but Richie put him in touch with a good lawyer, so he was hopeful.

He was driving back to his hotel afterwork, stuck on yet another call with Myra, her begging him to reconsider. This time she had decided that it was ok if he kept male lovers behind closed doors as long as they stayed together, and he gave her a baby. She was planning it all out when another call came in. The ID read “Derry, Maine” and a chill went through him. He told Myra to hold on and switched over.

“Eddie? It’s Mike.”

Oh.

----

So maybe Eddie had an entire life that he couldn’t even remember. Filled with friends he’d known since childhood. And Richie. That’s what was happening with them. Why they seemed to know each other. It was because they did. Intimately. They were friends for years and then in the 8th grade, they started dating. They dated all the way until they each left Derry and then…nothing. They both just, forgot. As did the others.

Eddie was frantic as he stood outside Richie’s door, knocking rapidly until his knuckles began to hurt. When Richie opened the door, he had his phone pressed to his ears, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Yea, I’m gonna have to call you back.” He said, dropping the phone to his side.

“Was that Mike?”

“No, Mike called just before. That was my manager wanting to know why I’m canceling my shows to go back to my hometown I didn’t even know existed until fifteen minutes ago.”

“Do you remember?”

“What, that we were in love and ready to start our adult lives together and then we completely forgot each other?”

“Yea…that.”

Without missing another beat, both surged forward and wrapped each other up in their arms. Richie stepped back into the apartment, pulling Eddie with him and shutting the door.

“I can’t believe you married a woman.” Richie laughed.

“Fuck you.” Eddie’s voice was muffled by Richie’s shoulder, but the message got across. “I cheated on you. A lot.”

“Hey, me too. Forget about it. It was…another life.”

Eddie pulled out of Richie’s embrace but stood close, looking up at him. “I still can’t do anything until I’m divorced. I just…can’t.”

“I got it. But I feel nineteen again like we haven’t lost anything when we really lost like twenty years.”

“I don’t want to think about that. I can’t.” Eddie shook his head as if willing the thought away. “So…are we going to Derry?”

“Our friends need us. Don’t we have to?”

“What if we forget again…”

“I guess we’ll just have to rely on fate to bring us together again.”

“So, back to Derry.”

“Back to Derry.”

[ovvnwords]

I WANNA WATCH THE WORLD BURN AND EVERYONE GET MEAN!

* isabela merced, cis girl + she / her | you know devon averescu, right? they’re twenty, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, five years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to stupid girls by p!nk like, a million times this year, which makes sense ’cause they’ve got that whole bringing a knife to a gun fight, spilled slushie on hot pavement so it turns that dark red kind of color, fashion looks inspired by paris hilton circa 2006 thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is janurary 15th so they’re a capricorn, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( mackenzie, 21, est, she / her )

warnings for neglect, crime, addiction, disappearances, theft ( all mentions , no graphic descriptors  )  .

much like she is now, devon came into the world kicking and screaming. its hard not to realize that she’d come to fight for attention from her mothers more .. appealing aspects, but she did her best. born to esther last name, the only ones who were in the delivery room were devons own mother and her grandmother  ( sid and esthers mother ). dad was nowhere to be found and that’s a similar mainstay throughout devons life.

she’d lived in the last name house for a while, until esther had decided she didn’t want to raise her daughter to be an essential pawn in her mothers little crime game. the same one she’d grown up with playing all her own life. one night, esther had booked it out of there with devon in tow and moved to raleigh —— it wasn’t as far as she’d like to get away, but it did the trick. of course her grandmother had eyes on her, it seemed, but didn’t exactly chase after them. esther presumes she’d been kicked out of the will and wasn’t welcome back which .. as far as devon knows, probably isn’t far off from the truth.

the pair weren’t exactly the worse off on the block. they had food most times, a shitty apartment and esther had a solid job for a while. stripping was something of a release for the woman to bounce back after having a baby. the atmosphere and money were also enticing, but she worked at a diner just a block from their dirty apartment. could have been a lot worse, that’s for sure. no help from devons father ( a one night stand and esther never got his last name, let alone any other descriptors beyond handsome and a flirt ), it was them two vs. the world, and devon had no issue with that.

POSSIBLE NEGLECT TW / growing up meant she had to take care of herself. yes, her mother was round, but working from early in the morning to late at night wasn’t ideal. by the time devon was six, she’d been feeding herself frozen dinners in the microwave and taking her own baths. not exactly safe nor was it conventional, but it worked for a while. this last until devon was a teenager, her bond with her mom only becoming more and more strained until it felt like devon was living with a ghost in her own apartment.

ADDICTION TW / then, esther had started to come home after days of being on binges ; little did devon know, her mom had been akin to a wild child in her high school years, extending until she’d become pregnant with devon at the age of 19 - she swore she’d never return to the life of partying and drugs. one thing turned into another and a man, her mothers supposed boyfriend at the time, reintroduced esther to it. then she couldn’t exactly stop. devon wasn’t only around at this time, she didn’t nessecarillay understand of have the skills to help hr mother kick it again. esther moved the pair back to irving, hoping to kick it herself after a tearful plea from her own daughter.

this helped, a little. except it didnt. the move caused esther to be much more secretive with her habits, hiding it while devon went to school ( or pretended to )  then dipping out before she got home. then she stopped being home altogether. devon had begun to cope with this loss in her own way .. acting out, getting into trouble, staying out late and making friends with the wrong people. pick-pocketing. stealing from friends, neighbors, convenience stores, any place she could slip things into her pocket or make a quick getaway.

DISSAPPERANCE + NEGLECT MENTION TW / then it all became a little too real. she hadn’t heard from her mom in months, despite text calls and her own little investigative research. she’d been talking to the guy back in raleigh, the only she swore to devon she’d stay away from. she’d don’t the last few months in raleigh - only occasional stop back to the apartment to check in, enough so the neighbors though that esther was more of a hardworking mother rather than a neglectful one. one night in the summer, there was a noet on the kitchen table. mom was never coming back, and to call her grandmother.

there’s been moments where she remembers her grandmother. holding her hand along the beach, lots of talk about words she didn’t understand at the time while she sat at the kitchen table. the only numbers her mom had in her phone was the man from raleigh and her grandmother - and its not even an hour after after the police come to the scene that she shows up, too. helping devon pack up her things from the shitty apartment into a nicer car than she’d ever seen in her life, into a house that felt like she had an outsider more than a family member. devons only been living with the rest of the last name family for almost two years, but she’d taken after her grandmothers in ways she’s unsure if the older woman likes or not.

OTHER INFORMATION

honestly kind of feral .. will bite without hesitation ( real )

has an iquana 

i’m tired of thinking i’ll add more once i add her to the doc..

[sinkix]

《What your fav Haikyuu!! Character says about you│Nekoma Edition》

Yo-hoo! Here’s another part to this potential(?) series! I hope you enjoy the possible call-outs in some of these lmao. Writers block been kicking my ass recently but I had a lot of fun writing these. Enjoy <3

You can find the Karasuno ver. here 

✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧

Kuroo:

Have a hand fetish and will not say no to choking.

Daddy kink™

Will not accept anything below 6 inches.

More of a dog person but would love to own a black cat.

You drool over tattoos.

Your grades are mostly B’s but you know in your heart you deserve that A, and tbh you probably do. Chase ur goals bby.

Halloween is likely your favourite holiday.

You have to resist not to carve a dick into the pumpkin EvEry GodDAmN YeAr.

You either study for 6 hours consecutively or cannot study at all and you get very frustrated at this.

Have the potential to be a good leader and command the room but probably don’t put it to use as much as you should.

Your playlist parkours from sad 3am crying into your pillow songs to aggressive punk music you could rob a store to.

You like bad boys who hang around bars and look like they would put out a cigarette on your forearm and call you a slut. Just stating facts sweaty xoxo.

Either dress very feminine and girly with a ‘smol girl uwu’ aesthetic or a hardass punk who would kick your ass for a can of beer no in between and tbh both are equally hot.

You’re a big softie at heart either way and just want to be held and told everything will be okay.

Ur a hoe for when people stroke your hair or caress your chin it’s your ultimate weakness.

Watched Rick & Morty.

Twice.

Sleeves rolled up veiny forearms and donning a silver watch are your muse and something you fantasise about frequently.

Most of your memes are shitty top text bottom texts that are somehow funny and I don’t understand why lmao.

You call someone ‘bro’ even if it’s someone you’re immensely attracted to.

Did someone say ties? No it’s just ur dirty ass thoughts thinking about that hot business dudes attire from across the street and how you wish they were tied around ur wrists.

Probably had a crush on Jeff the Killer as a tween and are relentlessly haunted by your old Wattpad library. 

Tbh any dark-haired dude with bedhead that screams rugged and probably not good for you is something that draws you like a moth to a flame.

You often question why every person you’ve fallen for has been a Scorpio and curse that tendency of yours.

Dw man they’re hot so I feel u.

Kenma:

Went through a ‘I’m not like other __’ phase and it’s something that you think about a lot and wish you didn’t.

Watched dan & phil as a kid.

Any mention of Pokemon has you turning into a rabid beast you get way too excited.

It’s cute though dw bby.

Pretty antisocial but interesting to talk to.

Your family often question how you’re able to sleep in till 3pm and judge you heavily for it.

Nocturnal night owl gang rise up.

Frequently have bags under your eyes but somehow manage to pull it off.

Listen to ASMR on the down-low and will never admit it to a single soul.

Frequently go on BL binges and have many related book marks.

You pray that someone will never find your laptop bc holy fuck the amount of smut on that.

You wear scarves & beanies even when it isn’t that cold outside.

100% went through a scene hair phase/attempted to.

You dye your hair a lot or REALLY want to.

You have a voice kink low-key so anyone with a pleasant/soothing sounding voice just gets u goin’.

Cats are your favourite animal and you either do or want to own several.

Would name them after video game/anime characters u fuckin nerd lol.

Speaking of cats ,you fantasise heavily about cat-boys and have a folder dedicated to them.

Oversized hoodies are your vibe and always ball the sleeve hems in your fist as a comfort mechanism.

Shopping centres are your worst nightmare and trigger your claustrophobia or social anxiety and honestly I feel that spiritually.

Have a cute sticky note collection.

You like a lot of music consisting of guitar and slow/soothing beats.

You also fw EDM/ techno on occasions.

Honestly wouldn’t wanna anger you since you have a seething temper when pushed far enough.

It’s the kinda temper that’s eerily quiet but no less terrifying, like the other person can tell you are graphically plotting their demise.

You love sleeping to the sound of rainfall and often play those nature ambience videos while you sleep.

Never tidy your sheets and it’s just a big scrunched up heap of fabric in the centre of your mattress most of the time.

Make your fucking bed.

Lev:

Your ships are chaotic and shamelessly controversial.

Would do something just for the sake of creating mayhem lmao.

You were the fucker who stuck their chewing gum under the desk, I see you.

Your brain never stops whirring it’s a constant hurricane of crackhead energy and you have no idea how to turn it off. 

Would eat a stick of pencil lead for $2

You don’t help your situation with the amount of coffee/energy drinks you consume.

The class clown who cries themselves to sleep.

Such a wholesome dumbass but somehow kinda intimidating??? 

Even if you’re not confident you can do something you’ll try anyway and honestly I respect that about you.

You !! use!!! a lot??!! of!! random punctuation!!! so you always??!?!? seem!!111!! excited!!!!!11!?

Every time you’ve ever tried to make a sandcastle it has failed.

You tried to eat the sand once but we don’t talk bout that.

You would  also pick up slugs and snails and chase your friends around with them.

Can never tell whether people are laughing with you or at you and while you don’t let it show it high-key bothers you when you’re laying alone in your room at night.

Not one to hold grudges, you carry a ‘shit happens’ mentality which is v good but it sometimes leads to people taking advantage of it or walking all over you.

Your meme collection is both questionable and horrifying.

Like how many cursed images and heavily distorted pictures does one person need.

Never organise the files on your PC/laptop so it looks like a complete dumpster fire.

The one at sleepovers who persistently woke everyone else up with their snickering and refusal to sleep till dawn.

For the love of Asahi charge your damn phone.

I see that red bar and ‘12%’

Charge it now.

Bought a plant one time, gave it a name and talked to it frequently.

It died not long after bc u forgot to fucking water it.

No one better ever make you responsible for a pet.

Type of person that when someone asks you to tag along on an endeavour no matter how stupid it is you will agree.

2am skydiving in france? hell yeah.

Midnight shopping spree and spending over half your pay check? count you in.

Exploring an abandoned hospital and performing an Ouija board to summon the demons of hell? you’re damn right you’ll be there.

I hope you have a mum friend by your side bc if not how are you still alive.

You sometimes put the milk in before the cereal and it’s something I’ll never forgive you for.

Yaku:

Very responsible and usually make the right decisions.

You do have moments where you act like a complete dumbass though.

Like u go from 50 year old to 5 year old in the blink of an eye.

A hopeless romantic but it’s a side you don’t often reveal.

Prefer strawberry milk over any other flavour.

You’re the type of person to shower twice a day w/o fail.

Where that stank smell coming from? Not you clearly bc your skin is basically 90% The Body Shop’s rose scented soap at this point.

You get stomach aches a lot and you can’t figure out why.

Probably an allergy to everyone’s bs.

Really good at dirty talk even though you don’t seem the type so people are always taken aback.

You have to be really in the mood though otherwise it falls flatter than Oikawa’s ass, use your skill wisely.

You often call people clowns when you know you’re secretly the biggest one going.

Honk honk, hoe.

You send messages in one paragraph rather than multiple texts unless you are REALLY excited.

People underestimate you at times then are shocked when they realise you are capable of being a fire-breathing dragon from the flaming pits of hell.

You like spicy chicken wings.

Such a petty little shit at times lmao.

Enjoy the view from the top of mountains so you either hike a lot or really want to.

Way more of a cat person since it’s just much more convenient for you.

Usually pretty cheerful or calm and people are drawn to your stable/friendly aura.

Went through a phase of drinking mountain dew and your body still feels the awful effects

Fav element is probably air.

You’re 5′6″ or shorter.

Box dyed your hair brunette several times and can never get the pigment out to this day.

Yamamoto:

Whenever you smell something weird in the room you always internally freak out and think it’s you.

Head-butting walls is your hobby.

You fell off your bike as a kid and still have the scar on your knee.

Probably have tons of ear piercings.

Would tame a pigeon and call it Larry.

You get frequent nosebleeds and can never tell if it’s a medical issue or your extreme simping for fictional men/women.

Hopefully the latter.

You constantly chew your pen/pencil in class so you never lend them to anyone out of embarrassment.

I really hope no one ever lends you stationery bc 30 minutes later it’ll look like it was mauled by a rabid rottweiler.

You really want to own a dog and would call it something intimidating like Banshee or Diablo.

You bleached your hair that one time and it almost fell out so now you’re forced to stay at least 10 metres away from all at-home hair dye products.

You tried your best though bby so A for effort, even if it did look like dehydrated ramen afterwards.

Your grades are mostly C’s and you’re barely passing bc you just don’t care about your classes lol.

Still though you’re actually pretty smart so put it to good use you lazy oaf, channel that crackhead energy into something good.

Your phone screen has several cracks in it from when you dropped it on the bathroom floor while shitting and you’ll always be angry at yourself for that.

You have some really weird quirks but you make it work.

Actually a v chill person but you just kinda attract chaos/trouble wherever you go.

Carry a lighter with you even when you don’t need one.

Shy texter but once people see you irl you are the complete opposite, you just dk how to text without coming across as awkward.

One of those people that’s unintentionally funny and always get confused when you make someone laugh but it makes you feel good regardless.

Have a cool necklace collection and own at least one dog-tag/army style pendant.

Should really consider buying a rabbit you would look so cute w/ one.

You have really nice legs and people should compliment them more.

Either severely dehydrated or overly hydrated to the point you are peeing pure tap water so for the love of god please learn moderation, your kidneys and bladder will thank you for it.

Inuoka:

Your favourite character would be Hinata but you like people taller than you so your love for Inuoka spawned.

You really enjoy using the double spiderman meme.

Cannot correctly verbalise your feelings without creating a minimum of 10 misunderstandings but once people are used to it it’s kinda endearing.

You usually wake up in a good mood and people can never fathom how or why.

You either stay up till 5am or you wake up at that time no in between.

A morning person bc you love the sunrise.

Change your lock-screen very regularly bc you get bored.

Your humour consists solely of poop jokes.

When you don’t understand a joke you laugh anyway and hope they don’t ask you if you actually get it.

Happened once and you’re still traumatised from the cricket silence that fell upon the room.

Really like the taste of lemonade and drink it more often than you should.

Often think about what you would look like with a shaved head.

More of an extrovert but def have occasional introvert tendencies where you wanna be left tf alone.

Never allowed to pick up anything in stores bc the last time you did you sniffed a scented candle and it shattered to the floor.

Constantly have spontaneous ideas of what to change about your appearance.

You use a lot of hand gestures like thumbs up and peace signs.

‘Dude’ and ‘lmao’ is 90% of your vernacular.

Your nails are a disaster, some are down to the nub while others are pretty grown out bc you only bite a select few please sort it out.

Look really good in red.

Your laptop has way too many tabs open from random google searches of words you didn’t know the meaning to.

You read a lot of books but for like 10 minutes at a time bc you have the attention span of a walnut.

You are the type of person to nuke your AO3 tags with things that aren’t even relevant purely bc you found them funny.

Your Tumblr drafts are a nightmare, you have like 100+ in the works yet keep starting new projects why do you do this.

Happy sunshine but you have a LOT of mood swings like that shit comes out of nowhere.

Cry pretty often but no one ever sees and it’s usually because of said mood swings.

You always smile and pick yourself up again though which I commend you for.

TYPES IN CAPITALS IN SITUATIONS THAT DO NOT REQUIRE SAID PUNCTUATION SO YOU SEEM LIKE YOU’RE YELLING ALL THE TIME.

[yourneighbourpotato]

An essay and rant on TLOU II

How about naughty dog takes another year or 2 or 3 and does the same thing that sonic movie did and remakes the game and we all agree that part 2 was an unofficial fever dream. And skip to part 3 where everyone gets better development and better not dry deaths or no deaths ��� and every diverse character isn't there just to be there 💖💖💖 but they are there as people with polished personalities and growth 💞 because as much I'd like to scream gay, lesbian, trans rights I can't.

Although the story needs some or maybe a lot of polishing. The overall ideas aren't that bad but the execution. That's where ND kind of fucked up. Graphics and gameplay may have improved but the game is so slow paced that it can get quite annoying. Graphics and gameplay sadly don't outweigh the minuses of the story.

Now let's get into some spoilers. So yeah spoiler warning.

First of all let's start with Abby. Why? Just why? What's the point of forcing everyone to play as her after she killed Joel who helped her? Also how the fuck did the least trustful character who outsmarted other survivors in 1st game just forgot all survival tactics and experience he had??? Why did Ellie just decided not to use a gun on Abbys group? Or why didn't she think of some plan to distract or ambush them??? Why were we made to chase after Abby the whole game only to see Ellie refuse to kill her? Why did we have to jump around the characters and story so much? Why was the story told in that order??? And etc.

Now. I don't mind ND killing a character but they did it way too early and way too shitty, I wish his death was more meaningful or at least they made a nice build up to that significant moment. Tbh even getting Joel seriously hurt (could've been to the point where he can't live his life like before, can't move legs, looses an arm(so he can't play guitar), can't use his body at all, etc.) that would've been enough to make everyone angry and wanting for revenge maybe even more?.. Or if they(Abbys group) wanted to get revenge on Joel so bad they could've just fucked Ellie up(make him watch her getting tortured/killed maybe) to cause even more pain to Joel who now sees Ellie as a daughter. Abbys part could've been way shorter or at the very least once again done in completely different manner. Because almost no one gave a single shit about Abby and her story and her part of the game. The game could've deceived us into thinking that Abby is a nice pal and she becomes part of Jackson and then she strikes once she gets to know Joel's weak points. Fuck it destroy Jackson like Joel destroyed the fireflies facility. Make it epic. Idk.

Or. Give players more freedom in making choices of what they want to do.? Just a thought.

I don't mind developers that try to be brave and try out new things but if you do it do it thoughtfully with passion that shines through the screen even in the darkest moments.

Now let's move on to the things I actually liked. Obviously I liked graphics they were decent and the environments looked great, not to mention how much fun you can have with photo mode. Music as always was beautiful, loved the guitar in this one too. Gameplay, well it wasn't the hugest leap forward with it because there were stuff that were just chores to lengthen the gameplay in the most boring way possible, such as get this cart to this place so you can climb up or get this wire to start electricity so u can open the gate and etc.(basically the same shit like in the last game or tbh almost any of their games, yes I'm talking to you uncharted but everything else with gameplay such as exploring was more or less fun) Killing enemies was fun, not so much fun killing dogs but you gotta do what you gotta do. Killing Abby at any given opportunity was also quite the attraction. Almost every flashback with Joel and Ellie was enjoyable and brought some tingly emotions in me and also were fun to play and experience. Ellies and Dinas relationship was for more or less okay for me and the 2 of them had some nice moments together (which. Could've been better but oh well, let's not deny that TAAAAAAKEEE E ONNNNN MEEEEEE TAKE ON MEEEE was epic) Also I like how the NPCs that you're with are always doing something even when you are standing in one place(and they also help you out with taking out enemies). I liked that we got some more details about the world of TLOU but it could've been done better. And that's probably about it.

Edit: no that's not about it, the snowball fight was lit. Playing the guitar is enjoyable(guitar hero has nothing on this part). And petting dogs is a plus as well.

Tbh I think ND will have a hard time gaining back the trust from their fans and their ex-fans. It's either they completely remake the story of part 2 or they might as well release some sort of game where we get to play as Joel in that skipped 20 year period. AND IT BETTER BE POLISHED AS FUCK. Wouldn't mind if it went little below the level of 1st game but not below the left behind dlc.

Thank your for listening to my Ted talk anyone wanting to talk and rant. Feel free to do so, share your experience. Video games are art and since art is subjective all opinions are valid. Just because opinions are different doesn't mean one's thoughts are superior to others and there's definitely no need to feel personally attacked by someone else's opinion.

[kinktae]

groovy || pt. 2 (FINAL)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

Even in the 70s, it goes without saying that you shouldn’t have feelings for your best friend’s little sister.

pairing: tae x childhood friend!reader

word count: 10k

genre: 1970s au, fluff, ANGST, eventual smut, f2l

warnings: tae & OC do the NASTY (smut is being edited), Jimin is an endearing pothead, themes of death, unhealthy coping mechanisms such as alcohol and sex

A/N: This fic was entirely inspired by the song If I Could Tell her by from the musical Dear Evan Hansen. Go give it a listen ;)

OFFICIAL PLAYLIST

01 | 02 (FINAL)

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PART TWO (FINAL) **UNEDITED**

Hoseok crossed his arms over his chest, "Jimin, you gotta be higher than a kite to stand here and tell me that Jaws is scarier than The Exorcist."

"Objection, your honor! How is that relevant to the argument?" Jimin turned towards Taehyung, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly.

"Overruled. I'll allow it just this once." Taehyung stated decidedly, rubbing at his chin dramatically.

"Fine." Jimin squinted, turning back towards Hoseok, looking coy. "I will neither confirm nor deny that accusation, but I still vote Jaws."

The two friends were in a heated debate over which of the two films reigned supreme. What started as a mere difference in opinions quickly turned into something far more dramatic, the three boys using it as a means to pass the time as the final hours of the day approached.

"Regan's head literally spins. She was like a fucking owl, man." Hoseok emphasized.

"The Exorcist is unrealistic.” Jimin waved off easily. “Ya know what's real and scary? Sharks.”

Hoseok shook his head in frustration, his dark locks shifting as he did so.

"I don't deny that Sharks are scary but a little possessed girl crab walking down the stairs? Scarier."

"Dude, The Exorcist was gross." Jimin frowned.

Hoseok gasped, quickly turning to his blond friend. "Objection! Your honor, that was a biased claim on his part."

"Sustained. No raggin' on either film." Taehyung agreed, causing Jimin to sigh.

"Fine. The Exorcist was graphic.” Jimin corrected himself. “Who wants to see a little girl projectile vomit all over herself?”

Suddenly, Hoseok brought his hand down onto the counter, the loud noise causing both Taehyung and Jimin to jump.

"Exactly!" He declared far too enthusiastically. "It's grotesque— disturbing even! That's what makes it so damn scary. The Exorcist is the superior horror film. I rest my case."

"Uh... is now not a good time?"

The sound of an entirely new voice appearing suddenly caused all three men to turn around. You were standing by the shop’s door, a perplexed yet amused expression on your pretty face. Taehyung was so taken aback by your sudden arrival that he nearly missed the Tupperware container that was being held between your hands.

"Y/N, Hey!" Taehyung exclaimed, an embarrassed hue crawling over his face. "No, uh, we were just... We didn't hear the bell, sorry!"

You laughed lightly, "No worries."

It hadn't been long since the last time Taehyung had seen you. As a matter of fact, just yesterday morning he had driven you back home so it didn’t make much sense for his heart to be pounding this loudly at the sight of you standing here in front of him.

Your hair had been thrown up in a ponytail that looked last minute but neat all the same, but it wasn’t your hairstyle that caught his attention. Crawling up your legs and underneath your denim skirt were a pair of bright yellow stockings, very much like the ones you used to wear when you were younger.

You were brilliant, he realized. Standing there in all your colored stocking glory, you were absolutely captivating and the blond boy suddenly wished he had put more effort into getting ready today.

His hair was lying flat against his head, having gone unstyled, and he had run out of his contact lenses, forcing him to wear his unflattering frames today.

You took note of his glasses' sudden appearance immediately; the last time you had seen Taehyung with them was when the two of you were still both puberty plagued teenagers. Still, there was something about the bespeckled boy that was comforting to see and much to his chagrin, you stared at him openly.

"U-Uh, you’ve met my friends Hoseok and Jimin, right?" Taehyung stuttered, growing flustered under your stare.

At his words, you looked over at the two boys in question– the shorter of the two had light brown hair and offered you a pleasant smile while the other one stared at you stone-faced, arms crossed over his chest.

"Jung Hoseok, right?" You recalled, flashing the solemn boy a nod.

Hoseok's eyes noticeably widened.

"Wasn't sure you remembered me." He responded cautiously.

You cocked your head to the side, "You were the first guy to ever kick my brother's ass. Hard to forget a moment like that."

"Yeah, well, someone had to knock that asshole down a peg." Hoseok smirked causing Taehyung to bump his shoulder into the dark-haired boy disapprovingly.

"Uh... no disrespect, of course." Hoseok corrected himself. You shook your head.

"No, you're right. He definitely had it coming." You smiled softly.

The exact moment the two of you were referencing had occurred in your junior year of high school, before Jungkook's death. You didn't know much of your brother's social life other than that Taehyung was in it but you remembered hearing the name Hoseok thrown around once or twice. From your understanding, he was someone in Jungkook's social circle that he didn't particularly care for but seemed to tolerate for Taehyung’s sake.

That all changed, however, one day in your school’s courtyard.

You weren't surprised to hear that your brother had started yet another fight in school– he had an awful temper and an even worse ability to control it –but you were, in fact, pleasantly surprised to find out that the fight had ended with Jungkook getting his ass handed back to him by Hoseok.

Both boys were suspended but Jungkook's punishment lasted far longer than Hoseok's was– the fight having not have been his first offense on school grounds.

Jungkook never got to see the end of his suspension, you realized suddenly. He died two weeks before he was due back.

Pushing that dark thought away, you shook your head, putting on a pleasant expression.

"I don't know what was more bruised, his eye or his ego." You joked. Hoseok grinned at your words, clearly surprised at how lightly you spoke of the situation.

“I gotta say, Jeon, you’re not nearly as shitty as your brother.” Hoseok chuckled.

There was something off about the smile that you gave him in reply and, for a split second, he feared that he had said something out of line. Taehyung noticed it too. Seeping through the place where your lips met was a bitter truth– a silent disagreement that you were in fact just as shitty as your brother but lacked the courage to say it.

“Hey, what’s in the container?” Taehyung finally spoke up, eager to shift the topic to something lighter.

“Oh. Right!" You blinked, your entire demeanor changing, "That’s actually why I came. I made brownies.”

Jimin noticeably perked up, eyes falling onto the container silently.

“What kind of brownies?” Jimin wondered lowly.

Hoseok shot him a look before turning to you, "You made us brownies?"

You shrugged, "Well, technically, I made them for Blondie but you guys are more than welcome to have some."

Taehyung's ears went pink. The idea that you made and brought brownies specifically for him was so overwhelmingly endearing he thought his heart might combust.

"F-For me?" He stuttered. You nodded eagerly.

Something you always liked about Taehyung was how easy it was to know what he was thinking, even if he didn’t want you to. He wore his emotions on his sleeve and was pretty much an open book to all.

You knew there was a small part of you that was jealous of him. Jealous of how transparent and honest he was. Because if you tried to be that way it wouldn't be something admirable or wonderful at all. It would be ugly and spiteful.

When Jungkook first died, you were something like a bomb, fragile yet on the verge of exploding at any given moment. You were angry all the time and lost a lot of friends who you treated poorly, taking from their wells of forgiveness until they had entirely run dry.

So for the moment, you were content with presenting a false version of yourself to others. If you had to paint a picture of yourself for them then at least you would make sure it was a pretty one.

"Yeah. Think of it as a thank you for letting me stay over the other night." You continued.

Hoseok's eyebrows raised, finding the context of your words incredibly interesting given the last thing he knew of your and Tae’s relationship was that it had been severed when Taehyung had tried to kiss you in your brother’s room.

"Oh? Is that so?" Hoseok mused cheekily causing Taehyung to send him a glare.

"It's... uh, no big deal." Taehyung dismissed easily, ignoring the way his friend was staring at him suggestively.

"So," Jimin spoke up once more, "are they just regular brownies or...?"

"For fuck's sake, Jimin, they're not weed brownies!" Hoseok laughed, causing the shorter boy to huff.

"What makes you think that's why I was asking? I could have a nut allergy for all you know." Jimin defended.

Taehyung blinked, "You don't have a nut allergy?"

"Yeah, I don't." He admitted, turning to you with a boyish smile.

"They're just regular brownies. Sorry to disappoint." You laughed, setting the container down onto the counter.

"Don’t sweat it. I’m still stoked." Jimin shrugged, walking over to pry open the container. "Free food is free food.”

And with that, the three boys finally began to dig in and you watched cautiously as they did so, hoping that at least some of your mother’s baking ability had been passed down to you.

"These are ace!" Was your eventual reassurance, coming from a satisfied looking Jimin, who shot you a thumbs up with his unoccupied hand.

Taehyung and Hoseok made noises of agreement, mouths too full to verbally agree.

“Aren’t you gonna have one?” Jimin pressed, shoving his mouth with the remaining piece of his brownie.

“They’re really good, Y/N.” Hoseok added.

You shook your head, “Oh no, I don’t really care too much for sweets. I just know Taehyung loves the recipe my family uses.”

Taehyung's head turned towards you, swallowing down the food in his mouth harshly as he looked at you in surprise.

“I didn’t know you knew that.” He admitted, licking his lips clean. You tucked your hands into the pockets of your skirt, a familiar memory creeping into your brain.

“I remember one Sunday night when you were sleeping over my mom made brownies and you ate like eight pieces. And then, when you thought everyone was sleeping, you snuck back into the kitchen for more.”

Taehyung’s eyes went as wide as saucers, “Wait, hold on... you knew about that?”

Honestly, this was the first time Taehyung had thought back on the moment in years but he remembered it vividly. Slipping out of bed without waking up a sleeping Jungkook and tiptoeing past you and your parent’s room felt like mission possible at the time and he was under the impression that he had gotten away with it.

“Yep. I heard you walk past my room. I got curious so I followed you into the kitchen and watched you pig out.” You laughed heartily, your ponytail swaying side to side as you did so.

“You watched me?!”

“I was always watching you.” You admitted coolly, picking up a brownie crumb from the container lid and plopping it into your mouth.

“That sounds... kind of creepy, Jeon.” Hoseok muttered, flashing you a concerned look.

You shrugged, leaning your hip against the counter.

“I was a kid and, well, I wasn’t exactly allowed to just go up and talk to Blondie. Jungkook would’ve literally killed me if he found out that I had a cru–”

Cutting your sentence off abruptly, you cleared your throat, oblivious to the way Taehyung had gone stiff, heart in his throat.

“Anyway, where were you guys with the trial?” You turned towards Hoseok, face burning as you change the topic onto the debate that was taking place before you arrived.

Holy shit.

You had a crush on Taehyung?

He felt like he had been dunked into an ice-cold pool; was it really possible that you ever saw Taehyung the way he still saw you?

He exhaled in disbelief, tucking a hand into his jeans.

He could die of happiness. They could bury him six feet under and it wouldn’t phase him in the slightest. It didn’t even matter that you no longer felt the same way. Just knowing that his one-sided love for you wasn’t always so one-sided was fulfilling enough.

Then again… he could be wrong. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions. You hadn’t finished your sentence, after all, you could’ve gone on to say any number of things. He was probably just overthinking like he always did. He spent nearly every second of his teenage years watching you, he would’ve noticed if you had any sort of feelings towards him... Right?

Your face felt like it was on fire. Worst yet, you could feel Taehyung’s eyes on you. He wasn’t saying a word and it made your chest feel tight.

“Oh. That. Whatever, I retract my statement, let Hobi have this win.” Jimin shrugged, too concerned with grabbing a second brownie to keep the debate going.

“Wait, really?” Hoseok frowned, suspicion gleaming in his eyes.

“Sure. If you say The Exorcist is scarier, then it's scarier.” Jimin concluded, moving to bite into his brownie.

“Right on!” Hoseok laughed, throwing an arm over the shoulders of his passive best friend suddenly.

The action took Jimin by surprise as he was yanked into Hoseok’s side, a small noise of disappointment escaping his lips as he lost grip of his brownie and it flopped onto the floor.

Hoseok showed no indication that he even noticed, his cocky grin persisting.

“This is why I keep you around, you know.” Hoseok teased. “What’s that you always say? Get laid, don’t fight?”

“Make love, not war.” Jimin grumbled, still mourning the loss of his fallen snack.

“Same shit.” Hoseok dismissed, turning towards Taehyung. “So then, your honor, what’s the final verdict?”

Maybe if Taehyung weren’t so preoccupied with staring at you, then he would have heard Hoseok’s call, but it wasn’t like he had much of choice. You were staring down at your shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world, bottom lip tucked in between your teeth as you appeared lost in thought.

“Tae? Anyone home?” Jimin laughed, finally pulling the blond out of his Y/N focused trance.

“Huh?” Taehyung replied.

Something both of his friends never gave Hoseok enough credit for was his ability to read people. So the moment he laid eyes on Taehyung staring at you like a love-struck puppy, he knew he had to do something to help.

“Actually… I think it’s about time Jimin and I headed out.” Hoseok announced suddenly, glancing down at his watch lazily.

“What? Why?” Jimin turned towards Hoseok in confusion.

“Yeah, what? You guys can stay until closing, you know that.” Taehyung added.

"You mean stay and have to help you clean and close up shop? Nah, man.” Hoseok scoffed, waving off the idea with a hand.

“Listen, I’m sure you and Y/N have lots of other nostalgic brownie stories to reminisce on.” Hoseok turned to meet Jimin’s eyes. “Besides, Jimin and I have stuff to do. Isn’t that right, Jimin?”

Jimin blinked, unsure of what was happening but knowing Hoseok well enough not to question whatever scheme he had cooking up.

“Uh… yeah! Lots of things. You know us, busy busy! People call us the busy boys, you know.”

Taehyung squinted, recognizing the boy’s awkward rambling as his attempt to lie. While Hoseok had a real knack for trouble, Jimin was just not cut out for such mischief.

“No one calls you guys that.” Taehyung pointed out flatly.

“Well, they should.” Hoseok chimed in, pulling the flustered hippie towards the door.

“Guys–”

"Check ya later, Tae!" The older boy called out, the door’s bell harmonizing with his goodbye. Taehyung frowned.

“Bye, Tae. It was nice meeting you, Y/N. Thanks for the brownies!” Jimin added, flashing you both a wide smile before the front door closed shut, leaving Taehyung alone with you.

There was a record playing somewhere in the back of the room. You remembered hearing it when you first arrived but forgot all about it once you began to speak to Taehyung and his friends.

It sounded somewhat familiar, but not familiar enough for you to pin down a title. You thought you recognized the artist– The Isley Brothers, maybe?

You crossed your arms as you listened briefly, opening your mouth to ask Taehyung before shutting it before you got the chance.

Taehyung was doing that nervous sleeve thing, you noted.

God, this was so awkward. You had to say something. Maybe you should clear up what you meant earlier.

“Hey, I’m–”

“Do you–’”

The two of you spoke in unison, surprising each other. Taehyung felt his shoulders relax as you burst out into light giggles, clearing finding amusement in the situation. Your laugh could lift any mood, he was sure.

“You go first.” Taehyung insisted happily.

Things were okay, you realized. There was no need to go back and dwell on things that would just make things complicated.

You shook your head, “No, nothing, I just… Your friends are nice. I like them. I miss that feeling.”

“What feeling?”

“Being surrounded by friends, I guess. I don’t really have any. I miss hanging out with people.” You shrugged.

Automatically, Taehyung flashed you a sympathetic look. You knew it was a normal response and that it came from kindness but it made you feel uneasy. You were far too used to people looking at you with pity.

“So.” You say, clearing your throat.

“So.” Taehyung countered.

“What were you going to say?” You asked.

“Huh?”

“Before I interrupted you, what were you going to say?” You reminded. A look of remembrance flashed onto Taehyung’s face before a lopsided smile crept onto his face.

You cocked your head at his expression, raising an eyebrow as you awaited his next words.

“Do you want Burger King?”

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“Yes, I know I should have called sooner.” You sighed, listening to your frantic mother’s voice seeping through the phone.

“Mom, I–”

Your eyes flickered over your shoulder, meeting a worried-looking Taehyung who was holding a fry up to his mouth. You stuck your tongue out at him, hoping to lighten up the mood.

He could hear your mother’s muffled but clipped voice through his house phone. Naturally, after the two of you picked up food, you found yourself back at Taehyung’s house to eat it. It wasn’t until you had finished your meal that you realized you hadn’t come back home as scheduled and that your parents were most likely furious.

Despite Taehyung’s efforts to get you home in one piece the other day, your lack of change in clothes clued them in on the fact that you hadn’t gone out to spend the night at a friend's like you had claimed.

One heated confrontation later and the truth of your excursion came to light. Your mother had broken down into tears when you told her that Taehyung had found you drunk and alone on the side of the road; as far as your parents were concerned, you had stopped such reckless behavior years ago.

You let your mother ramble over the phone for a bit before finally explaining yourself.

“Mom. I’m at Taehyung’s.” You explained. Your words were met with a brief pause on your mother’s end and Taehyung quirked his head in confusion.

Something he couldn’t hear must have been said, however, as a satisfied grin took over your face and you bid your mother a light-hearted goodbye, promising you’d call when you were on the way back home.

At the sound of the line going dead and you putting the earpiece back into the phone, Taehyung spoke up.

“Everything okay?”

“Mm? Oh yeah. All it took was mentioning you and her whole tune changed.” You nodded, walking over to where Taehyung was sat on his couch.

The blond boy flashed you a toothy grin.

“Really? That’s all it took?”

You laughed.

“Are you kidding? Your every parent’s dream kid. Kind, responsible, hard-working... Man, they love you, Taehyung.”

Suddenly, a pensive look fell over you as you appeared to get lost in thought.

“It’s hard not to.” You sighed finally, grabbing a fry from Taehyung’s plate and popping it into your mouth casually.

He wasn’t sure what to make of your words but warmth found his face all the same.

Lately, it felt like he was always finding double meaning in your words and he wasn’t sure if they were purposeful or if he was just getting more and more desperate to paint the narrative that you somehow loved him too. He had to force himself to push back such ideas, his own selfish desires too much for his fragile heart to endure.

“Taehyung?”

Realizing that you had been standing while he sat all this time, Taehyung stood up suddenly. It was an awkward repositioning but you paid it no mind, your next words clearly weighing heavily on your mind.

"What would've happened if my parents didn't come home that day?”

Taehyung froze. He opened his mouth to respond but thankfully shut it right away, needing a moment to collect himself.

The question had blind-sighted him; he had spent the better half of the past three days trying not to think about the unfortunate event that went down in Jungkook’s bedroom.

He’d never stop hating himself for that moment.

Still, he wasn’t sure what to make of your question. He allowed for a few more moments of wordlessness before he decided that answering honestly would be his best bet.

Tucking his hands into his pockets, he swallowed harshly. "I probably would have kissed you."

He had no doubt he was blushing, especially with the way your eyes refused to pull away from his face.

"To comfort me?”

"I, uh… No."

“Then, why?” You pressed.

Taehyung bit down on his lip, wondering just how honest to be with you right now. Was this how he was going to admit that he had been in love with you all these years?

He shook his head.

“I just… wanted to.” He admitted, before continuing hurriedly, “B-But I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking– seriously, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of such a vulnerable moment. I’m really, really sorry. I should’ve apologized sooner.”

You nodded.

“It's okay. I’d just prefer if you didn’t, you know, try to kiss me in my dead brother’s bedroom.”

Taehyung grimaced at your words, offering you an awkward laugh and sheepish smile, “Yeah… Definitely not the right time or place.”

Taehyung felt like he could breathe easier now knowing you hadn’t looked too deeply into the attempted kiss. Hopefully, this meant things could stop being so awkward between you two and things could go back to the way they were before. He missed having you around.

“Um…”

Taehyung’s thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of one of your hands reaching out and gripping onto the fabric of his sleeve, much like the way he would himself when he was nervous. He glanced down at the gesture, eyes wide at your proximity.

"We’re not in his room anymore." Your words were muttered lowly, as if suddenly shy.

Taehyung blinked.

What?

Did that mean what he thought it did? Did you just imply that he could kiss you? Or did he just fail to wake up this morning and was stuck in another one of his sad, pining dreams about you?

Gaze fixated on where your fingers were still wrapped around the fabric of his sleeve, you were unable to meet his eyes.

"Huh?" Taehyung replied, simply because he couldn't conjure up a single intelligent thought.

Your eyes met his for a moment before flickering away once again, brows furrowed.

"My parents aren't here either so..."

Taehyung's heart was banging against his chest as if wanting to lurch right out of it and offer itself to you as you were its rightful owner.

No way.

There was just no way the girl he had been in love with since he was fifteen was standing in front of him asking him to kiss her.

“I'm... Are you–"

"Geez, Blondie." You cut him off, voice pitched high at the thought of having to repeat it. "Do I have to spell it out for you?"

If it were in any other situation, the tone in your voice would have suggested that you were angry, but the way you tugged at his sleeve let him know you weren't upset, but rather just incredibly embarrassed, unable to express directly just how much you wanted Taehyung to kiss you.

To your surprise, instead of Taehyung awkwardly stuttering out an apology, two large palms found either side of your face, forcing you to look back over at him. Before your eyes even got the chance to make contact with his, however, his mouth found yours, eliciting a small noise of surprise from the back of your throat.

The kiss was everything you imagined a kiss from Taehyung would feel like.

Soft. Gentle. Perfect.

His mouth felt warm against yours, distracting you from the subtle way his hands trembled. Despite the way your mouths moved against each other cautiously, still unfamiliar with such intimacy, something about the exchange felt natural, as if the two of you were always meant to embrace each other like this. And as Taehyung pulled away, you let that thought run through your mind, his warm eyes holding yours.

Silence rang between the two of you; Taehyung bit onto the inside of his cheek, waiting for you to say something but neither of you could seem to work up the nerve.

“Should I not have done that?” He spoke finally, heart in his throat.

“Probably not.” You murmured, still slightly dazed from the kiss.

Suddenly, you placed a hand against his chest, the faint pounding of his heart kissing your palm. Part of you was thrilled to see that the kiss had affected him as much as it had you, but there was also a part of you— a bitter one— that knew that taking this any further would be unfair to Taehyung.

Something told you that if you asked Taehyung for his heart that he’d give it to you, that he was just that kind, and that scared the hell out of you. Taehyung deserved a hell of a lot more than the selfish little sister of his dead best friend.

Sure, you did your best to paint a pretty picture but that didn’t negate the parts of you that were monstrously ugly.

When Jungkook first died, you picked up drinking; weekends usually blurring by as you drifted through the days without regard. You used to think it helped, that drinking all night only to wake up the next morning still just as intoxicated would silence your screaming thoughts of self-loathing, but you came to find out quickly that alcohol was merely a temporary novocaine.

That’s when you turned to sex. It was usually coupled with alcohol, having had realized that inebriation was a great crutch to cling onto the next morning when you hated yourself for your actions.

You weren’t exactly sure when the thought process behind it manifested but you had turned to nameless faces and their bodies to help make you feel desired as you couldn’t love yourself. Whenever friends would raise their concerns, you would brush them off with a clipped tone, claiming that you were merely having fun, oblivious to the fact that all your self-worth was stemming from how many people you could lure into bed with you.

Both reckless behaviors were meaningless attempts at filling a void you refused to acknowledge and if it weren’t for your parents eventually stepping in, there’s no telling just how bad things could have gotten.

You and Jungkook were similar in that aspect, you suppose. Both Jeon siblings having had their tendencies for self-loathing and self-destruction, only Jungkook ended up a corpse on your bathroom floor while you got to walk away without a scratch.

Sometimes, when your mind got particularly dark, you wondered why Jungkook was dead and not you. Why were you the one who had to remain alive, damned to hold up the crushing burden of being the living sibling?

With your brother dead, you had to stay alive— not just for your parents, but for Jungkook as well. If you were going to be chosen as the Jeon sibling that lived then you couldn’t go and destroy your life, not when Jungkook had lost his.

So you tried your best to clean up your act.

You cut off all ties to your old habits and old friends; it was lonely sometimes but you were sober and your parents were happy, and so were you for the most part. Denial became your coping mechanism and any sadness you felt towards your brother passing morphed into anger, forcing you to detach yourself from him altogether.

It was healthier than the other ways you had tried to cope but it was still just a temporary numbing solution, one which Taehyung had wiped away easily, which is why you had turned once again to alcohol and sex. Thankfully, Taehyung found you on the side of the road that night.

“Y/N?” Taehyung called out, watching the way your expression had darkened. You furrowed your eyebrows, eyes flickering up to meet his.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I can’t do this to you. Let’s stop.”

Taehyung frowned, “Do what to me?”

Taehyung looked so incredibly confused that you found yourself looking away, unable to face him.

“I know you care about me which is why we shouldn’t go any further than this.”

Taehyung felt his heart sink into his stomach. Was kissing you a mistake? It didn’t feel like one but you couldn’t even meet his eyes so he knew something was wrong.

You let your hands fall off his chest before continuing.

“I… I care about you. You mean a lot to me, probably more than you know, which is why I won’t risk you getting hung up on someone like me.”

He could see the way you had begun to shrink; you were standing in front of him like you were insufficient and frail when he knew you weren’t any of those things.

“Someone like you? What are you talking about?”

“I’m not the girl you think I am. I’m not the girl you knew when we were kids anymore. I’m bitter and angry and have got so much baggage– I’m not going to put you through carrying any of that. You deserve a lot better than that.” You explained, hating yourself for the way your voice was wavering.

Once again, you were crying in front of Taehyung and you couldn’t stand it.

“Y/N, c’mon—”

“I’m serious!” You cried, hands shaking. “I used to drink myself numb and I slept around with so many people— the majority of them whose faces I don’t even remember —and I’ve hurt and pushed away everyone who's ever cared about me and just— fuck, Blondie! I’m a fucking shitty person!”

“No, you’re not.” Taehyung said quietly, hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“I know you, Y/N. Maybe you’re not the girl who dances in her room or reads teen magazines anymore but you’re still the girl who wears yellow stockings and bakes me brownies just because she remembered I liked them.”

As his thumb ran over your wet cheek, you weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry so you did both, once again crumbling under his touch.

“You’re more than just a series of bad decisions. You’re hurting and you’re doing it alone when you shouldn’t have to. You’re a hell of a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for and,” Taehyung swallowed roughly, losing footing of his voice, “And you deserve better too, dammit. You deserve so much more.”

There were only a few things Taehyung couldn’t forgive himself for, and leaving you by yourself after Jungkook died was one of them. He knew what it felt like to sink back into the dark place he was in after his best friend’s death but he had his parents and his friends to pull him back out– it made his heart heavy to think that you had been drowning in that lonely limbo this whole time.

“You don’t have to be alone. You don’t have to do this on your own. You’re not made out of stone, Y/N, you’re human. It’s okay to rely on others and accept help and love and everything we think we're not worthy of.”

Taehyung could see the way his words were hitting your skin; he could see the way you flinched as if you couldn't believe them but the way your watery eyes held onto his told him that you wanted to.

“Don’t push me away.” He pleaded finally, voice firm but tender all the same.

You wish you could’ve told him straight up that you wouldn’t, but your mouth was void of any and all words as you answered him with a kiss, hoping for it to say everything you thought Taehyung deserved to hear.

The kisses grew more heated and emotions became intertwined and there was a small voice eating away at the back of your mind telling you that you didn’t deserve this, that you didn’t deserve him. Even as the two of you found yourself in Taehyung’s bedroom, laid out on his bed, the voice persisted, silenced only by the sound of Taehyung speaking suddenly.

“Is this okay? For me to kiss you like this?” Taehyung asked, breathing heavy as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip nervously.

You fought back the blush that wanted to make its way onto your skin, the question catching you off guard as there wasn’t any need for it in the first place. You wanted Taehyung to do far more than just kiss you. Taehyung had you pinned underneath him, your legs parted by his thigh as he hovered over you, and you were alight with an insatiable need for him.

Your fingers found his glasses; they were struggling to hold onto his face as he stared down at you. Gently, you took them off, chest tightening as Taehyung’s eyes widened at your action.

“Taehyung.” You cooed, eyes flickering to his lips. You wondered if their red color mirrored yours right now.

Taehyung wanted so badly to kiss you again but the last thing he wanted to do was to push things in a direction you weren’t comfortable with.

“Yeah?”

“Touch me, please.” You murmured, causing Taehyung’s heart – among other parts of him – to stir.

A small sound of surprised content escaped you as Taehyung’s mouth found your neck, wasting little time as he began to bruise the delicate skin there. He wasn’t being nearly as gentle as you imagined he would, taking your skin between his teeth before soothing over the bite with a soft flick of his tongue before moving to another spot.

His fingertips were running up and down your sides frustratingly; it was a side of Taehyung you had never seen and it excited you to no end, small whimpers and sighs falling from you.

Taehyung was in absolute bliss– he had the girl he had been in love with for years laid out underneath him, panting his name as he marking you as his, loving the way your hips were rutting up, not so subtly trying to grind against his thigh.

He felt it too, of course; the strain of his aching cock pressing against his pants becoming harder and harder to ignore, and before he could think to ask, he moved between your legs, urging your skirt up to your waist so that he could grind into you.

A low grunt left his mouth as he began to rock into you, your soft whines only edging him on. But he knew there were far too many layers separating the two of you.

“Why don’t… Why don’t you go ahead and take some clothes off?” Taehyung suggested, slightly caught up in the feeling of your legs tightening around his hips.

You let out a small huff, not because you didn’t like the idea but because he had stilled his motions. As lovely as the friction was, it wasn’t nearly enough to get you where you wanted. You sat back up on your elbows.

“Should I leave the yellow stockings on for nostalgia’s sake?” You joked dryly. You hadn’t meant it seriously, of course, you were hoping to elicit a laugh from Taehyung but to your surprise, his response was anything but humorous.

His palm came down onto your covered thigh, moving forward to bring his mouth to your ear.

“Unless you want a few new rips in them, I’d suggest you take them off as well.” He hummed darkly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

A grin found Taehyung’s face as he leaned back away from you, watching as your expression fell into one of surprise, clearly not expecting such a forward statement from him.

Flustered, you began to undress clumsily, struggling to do so as the feeling of Taehyung pressing kisses against your jaw was incredibly distracting.

Where the hell did this surge of confident from Taehyung come from and why the hell was it so hot?

The second you finally freed yourself from your garments, you threw a leg over his lap, forcing him back down onto the bed.

Your fingers found his shirt without so much as a second thought, undoing the buttons of his shirt as you began to trail hot kisses down his chest. A low sound emerged from Taehyung’s chest and if you had any shame whatsoever, you might have felt embarrassment as the sound caused your panties to dampen.

His skin was soft and you let your tongue trace the ridges of his abdomen. You imagined you might have stopped to press some more permanent marks on his skin if you didn’t have another destination in mind, hand slipping down further and further.

For the second time today, Taehyung wondered if dreaming; you were sat up on his lap in nothing but your panties, lips parted as you tried to catch your breath, hand rubbing over Taehyung’s clothed cock lightly.

Taehyung let out a groan, causing you to smirk.

“Poor, Blondie. Bet you’re dying to get out of these pants, huh?” You teased, applying more pressure to your touch.

“Fuck, Y/N. You really are such a tease.” Taehyung hissed, thrusting up to meet your touch.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You replied innocently, cocking your head one side to truly sell the act.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna give you five seconds to stop that little game you’re trying to play with me and lay back down on the bed.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’m going to cum in my pants and, fuck, I’d really much rather cum inside of you.”

You paused your actions begrudgingly, realizing you also would rather him cum inside you. You crawled off him and laid back beside him as instructed.

“Good girl.” He praised, kissing one of your bare breasts, causing you to whine. “Why don’t you let me play with you now, hm?”

One of Taehyung’s hands was quick to make its way between your legs, wasting no time to drag this out any longer.

“Oh, fuck.” He hissed, middle fingering running up and down your clothed slit. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his actions earning him a sharp inhale of his name.

“Sweetheart, you’re so wet.” Taehyung cooed. “We only just started too.”

“D-Don’t tease me.” Your voiced hiccuped slightly as the tip of his finger found your clit, rubbing at the swollen pearl lightly. Taehyung laughed, pressing a peck against your bottom lip that was jutting out slightly.

You took advantage of the moment immediately, hand reaching out to slip into Taehyung’s hair so you could deepen the kiss. You could feel him smile into the kiss, clearly pleased with how desperate you were for him.

The feeling of one of Taehyung’s long fingers sinking into you caused you to grasp, pulling away from the kiss as his fingers ministrations began to occupy all your attention.

Taehyung admired you from his spot beside you, watching the way your face scrunched up and you threw your head back as one finger became two.

“You’re so pretty like this, baby.” He found himself purring into your ear, head too clouded with the sounds of your moans to hold himself back.

“God, I... fuck.” Was your intelligent response, hand clasped around his wrist as his motions began to quicken.

Your thighs were beginning to shake, the obscene sound of Taehyung’s fingers entering your wet pussy filling the room.

A particularly hard rub against your clit sent out a chirp of his name, pulling Taehyung away from your breasts, where he had temporarily fixed his attention.

“You need something?” He teased, flicking his tongue against your nipple frustratingly.

You let out a groan, sending Taehyung a glare as a sharp wave of pleasure ran through you, causing your spine to arch.

And just like that, his fingers were pulled off you, evoking a small cry of disappointment from your lips. The kiss that followed, however, was enough to silence your protest, Taehyung moving to rest in between your hips again, only this time, he fumbled to take off his jeans.

“I’m going to make love to you, sweet girl. Is that okay?” He asked as he freed himself of his garments.

Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, swollen and red-tipped, and you nearly begged for him to fuck you right then and there.

You nodded eagerly, eyes still fixated on Taehyung’s newly revealed state. You bit down on your bottom lip, insides fluttering with desire as Taehyung adjusted himself, rubbing the length of his cock against your sopping center.

A small cry left your lips as he finally entered you and Taehyung knew he was absolutely ruined, wrecked by the way your warm, velvet walls wrapped around him.

“F-Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” Taehyung was absolutely beside himself as he began to rock into you, moaning as you took every inch of him, profanities spilling from your swollen lips.

You jolted as his thumb found your clit, clearly set on getting you to cum.

“That feel good?” He hummed, pressing a kiss to your collarbone cheekily.

Your eyes were shut, overwhelmed by the feeling of Taehyung filling you, bringing you closer and closer to your climax with every rock of his hips and fingers.

“So... ah, so good.” You whimpered, voice trembling as you tried to meet every one of Taehyung’s thrusts.

Taehyung was close to his own release, balls tightening as he relished in how well you took his cock and how pretty his name sounded falling off your tongue like that. You were so beautiful– your chest and neck glistening lightly with sweat, breathing labored as you entirely lost yourself in the sensations being sent your way.

“Taehyung, I–”

Your sentence was cut short as your orgasm washed over you, a broken whine leaving your lips. Taehyung hardly had time to admire the lovely way your body was shuddering in pleasure when his own orgasm hit him, your walls tightened around him as he coated your walls with hot spurts of cum.

Tangled sounds of pants and whimpers fell between the two of you as you both came down from your highs.

“You okay?” Taehyung spoke finally as he pulled out of you.

You let out a sigh at the feeling, suddenly empty. You offered a nod in response, not trust your voice to respond to him verbally. Taehyung laid down beside you, gesturing for you to come closer; the cold of his room had suddenly caught up with you both as you huddled into one another for warmth.

Your head found itself on Taehyung’s chest, listening to the way his breathing evened out with post-coital bliss.

His fingertips were running along the length of your bare arm as the two of you lay there, causing light goosebumps to pull at your skin.

“What are you thinking about?” Taehyung said suddenly, sensing the melancholy that lingered in the air.

You didn't respond immediately, taking a few moments to yourself before pulling yourself up to face Taehyung.

"I was thinking about my family and how they'd react if I told them about us." You admitted.

"My parents would be thrilled. Both of them. Dad has always seen you like a second son and if my mom were twenty years younger, she would've snatched you up herself."

Taehyung let out a contemplative hum, "And Jungkook?"

It was the question that was weighing on both your minds. There was a small prickling feeling of guilt there as if the two of you were doing something behind his back, even though he was gone.

"I'm not sure."

“I think Jungkook would kill me if he knew I slept with you.” Taehyung admitted honestly, his frows furrowing ever so slightly.

“Probably.” You nodded before pausing. “But he would’ve forgiven you.”

“You think?”

“Are you kidding? You were his favorite person, he never shut up about you.” You chuckled, laying back down beside him.

“You’re a good guy, Blondie. I think that’s why he liked you so much. Everything became so bad so quickly but you stayed good. You never left his side. You always had his best interests in mind, even when he didn’t deserve it.” You yawned, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

Suddenly, Taehyung’s expression fell into an unreadable one, the room’s atmosphere growing heavy as his aura suddenly darkened. Your eyes ran down his profile as he stared off across the room, clearly deep in thought.

“I knew.” He said finally, voice small.

“You knew what?”

“The drugs. I knew.” He clarified, turning his head towards you.

“I didn’t know exactly what he was using but I knew something was wrong. And I didn’t say anything. I hate myself every day for nothing saying something.” Taehyung confided solemnly.

You turned away towards him, silence fell over the two of you. You didn't know what to say– the idea that Taehyung wasn't this perfect, happy human completely throwing you off guard. Not once did you think to consider how Taehyung had dealt and continued to deal with the death of his best friend. You contemplated his words for a moment.

Shifting slightly, you moved further down the bed, letting your head rest on his chest once again.

“How do you live with yourself?”

Your question wasn’t malicious in any sense. No. It was pure, unadulterated curiosity that prompted it and Taehyung was felt a quiet feeling of relief in that fact that you hadn't dwelled on his confession any further than needed. You held no judgment in your tone, but rather a desire to understand, undoubtedly stemming from the need to replicate the answer for yourself.

“I learned to forgive myself.” He said before pausing.

“I learned to forgive him.” He added after a moment of silent contemplation.

You frowned, letting your eyelids fall shut.

"I can't. Not yet, at least." You confessed wistfully.

Taehyung let out a hum, "That's okay. I didn't know at first."

“So what did you do before you found yourself at that point?”

You could hear Taehyung's sigh through his chest, it was soft and reverberated lowly.

“I looked for the things that made me happy. The music, the people– you just gotta keep on keepin’ on. It'll start to hurt a little bit less every day until one day you'll wake up to find that the good outweighs the bad.”

"You're a good." You said suddenly, catching Taehyung by surprise.

"Huh?"

You lifted your head, turning it so that you could face him.

"The bad is heavy and it hurts but... you're definitely a good." You murmured gently. "You're my good, Blondie."

Taehyung didn't care that he was blushing or that you could probably feel the way his heart rate had spiked because, as you leaned over to kiss him, all he could find himself caring about was the fact that he was your good and that you were his too.

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"You're a sneaky little minx, you know that, right? I gave in that time but now I seriously have to go." Taehyung sighed, causing you to frown.

Taehyung had been taking a shower, on his way to get ready for his morning shift at Rose's when a certain someone slipping into his shower had extended his time spent in there tenfold, unable to resist your advances.

The two of you were in towels now; your fooling around in the shower now over.

"Nooo." You whined. "Stay."

You had pulled Taehyung into an embrace, your arms snaking around his waist as you propped up onto your toes and pressed kisses onto his collar bone.

The nature of the kisses seemed harmless, but with the way two of you had spent all night, and now morning, Taehyung knew that things would only escalate from here.

"As much as I'd love to make love to you all day, I'm needed at the record shop." He stated decidedly, causing you to pull your mouth away from his skin.

"Can you call in sick?" You moped childishly. Taehyung shook his head no, chuckling as he leaned over to place a chaste kiss against your mouth.

"Seven years, Blondie! We were robbed of seven years together. We deserve to be going at it like rabbits." You looked up at him through your lashes, a sour pout on your lips.

The blond boy let out an abrupt laugh as if he wasn't expecting those words to leave your mouth.

"So dramatic." He hummed teasingly.

Despite his words, the truth was he couldn't agree more and if it weren't his moral obligation to his job, then he would gladly spend the day with you in bed.

You tilted your head in contemplation, "Has it not been seven years since you first started liking me?"

You felt Taehyung physically stiffen against you, and it suddenly occurred to you that Taehyung was still under the impression that you had no idea about his childhood crush on you.

"You knew?!" Taehyung gaped, mouth falling ajar slightly.

You raised an eyebrow at him, "Of course I knew."

"Wha– How? For how long?" Taehyung pressed, voice rising in pitch. You tried your hardest to suppress your amused smile, enjoying the way he was growing increasingly flustered.

"Well... you trying to kiss me in Jungkook's room was a huge giveaway," You laughed, "but I think I figured it out when you talked about the purple streaks I put in my hair."

At your confession, Taehyung frowned, clearly not understanding. You pulled away from him, letting out a sigh as you accepted the fact that you weren't going to convince Taehyung not to go to work any time soon.

"You told me Jungkook liked my purple hair."

Taehyung paused for a moment, digesting your words. He nodded slowly; it was a lie he had told you in an attempt to comfort you. He should have figured it would come back to bite him in the ass.

"... Yeah?"

"I dyed my hair after he died." You revealed, leaning back against the bathroom sink.

Taehyung thought back to Jungkook's funeral, trying to make sense of where his memories had gotten muddled.

You were right, of course.

Your entire family was dressed in all black, as were you. But sprinkled throughout your hair were bright streaks of indigo, contrasting almost purposely against the dark and gloomy day. Taehyung remembered thinking it suited you; the color was just as vibrant as you were, even if you remained silent and solemn the entire time.

"I dyed it the night before Jungkook’s funeral actually. I couldn’t fall asleep so my mom went out with me to buy the supplies and she helped me do it. It was a nice distraction for both of us." You remembered, your expression slightly melancholic. "Jungkook never got to see my hair. But you did.”

Taehyung's cheeks grew pink. "Not everything I told you was a lie. Everything I said before that really was Jungkook."

You nodded, a small smile visible, "Thank you for that by the way. Whether it was you or Jungkook saying those things, it meant a lot."

The corner of Taehyung's lips curled upwards.

"What about when we were younger? Did you know I liked you back then?" He wondered innocently.

"Thinking back on it now, it was kind of obvious that you did but I think I was too concerned with feelings for you to notice." You admitted through a laugh.

"So, you did have a crush on me?" Taehyung asked, a wide smile of disbelief growing on his face. You nodded shyly.

“You think I bugged you guys for all those years because I enjoyed Jungkook telling me to fuck off?” You grinned lightly. “I did it because I wanted to spend time with you.”

"I still do." You reminded him of the conversation's previous topic, pointing a finger against his naked chest.

Taehyung was absolutely buzzing, his chest full of pride at knowing that you had liked him all this time. If there were a cloud higher than cloud nine then he'd be on it– Hell, he'd be king of it.

Suddenly, the gravity beneath your feet shifted as you were scooped up in Taehyung's arms, a loud squeal of surprise leaving you.

"What are you doing?!" You laughed, arms scrambling to better hold onto Taehyung in case he accidentally dropped you.

"Screw work, I'm about to make your teenage dreams are coming true, baby." He grinned cheesily as he laid you back down onto his bed, laughter all but breaking the kisses the two of you began to exchange.

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“Are you okay?” Taehyung spoke finally.

You bit down onto your lip, contemplating your next words carefully.

“I feel dumb.”

Taehyung let out a sigh, “Y/N…”

“Sorry, sorry. I just… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” You replied, causing him to shrug.

“Just do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Your hands found one another as you let those words sink in for a moment before nodding, ultimately sinking down onto your knees, the damp grass wetting the knees of your jeans.

“Hey, shrimp brain.” You began cautiously.

The headstone you spoke to was a light grey. Granite. There was a toss-up between granite and marble but you remembered that your parents had decided on granite.

“It’s, uh, me. I’m sorry we haven’t... talked." You frowned, still unfamiliar with the idea of talking to your dead brother's headstone.

It was actually your idea, but if it weren't for Taehyung's reassurance – and car – you would have never actually made it here.

Part of you feared that this was a mistake, some useless waste of time, but the larger part of you knew this was something you needed to do. Something you should have done a long time ago.

"I’m sorry for a lot of things actually.” You began, fingers intertwining themselves.

Laid out in front of the tombstone were a bunch of wilting flowers, undoubtedly placed there by your mother. They were sad to look at and you knew that in just a few days they would be replaced with new ones, but you couldn't help but feel Jungkook would've liked them this way. Taehyung thought so too, noting it complimented Jungkook's fashion sense as a teenager.

“Blondie and I are together now. And before you freak out, you should know that I’ve always liked him. I sometimes kinda feel like you already knew that but yeah. I hope you’re okay with that because he makes me really happy." You found yourself smiling before continuing. "I hope you're happy and blasting Jimi Hendrix... wherever you are.”

Suddenly, you felt a wave of emotion roll over you, taking you by surprise. It wasn't any kind of overwhelming anger or sadness like you usually felt, but just a slow melancholy, the kind that brought tears to your eyes but still let you hold onto your breathing.

“I know being sappy was never really our thing but I just wanted to say... that I miss you. And I love you. I’m sorry I never told you that while you were still around.”

A few moments of silence ticked by, filled only by the occasional chirp of a nearby bird, sat somewhere in one of the trees in the cemetery.

Taehyung watched as your frame began to shake slightly, placing a hand on your shoulder as he kneed down beside you.

“You’re okay. You’re doing great.” He cooed, his presence along helping to calm you down.

You sniffed, wiping your cheek dry with the back of your sleeve.

“But yeah. I hope you don’t mind if I swing by more often to bug you with some more one-sided conversations. Gotta uphold my title as the annoying little sister, after all.”

Taehyung let out a chuckle from beside you and that was all the reassurance you needed.

“I guess I’ll see ya later, shrimp brain.” You concluded finally, letting out a breath as you pushed yourself off your knees and back onto your feet.

Taehyung followed suit, eyes fixated on his best friend's gravestone.

"You really think he knew we liked each other?" He mused lightly.

"Going by what my mom said when I told her we were dating, literally everyone knew we liked each other." You laughed bitterly.

"Everyone but us, I guess." The blond boy laughed.

The sun had shifted its way behind a passing cloud then, and you couldn’t help but miss the warm feeling of it against your skin.

"What a bummer." You sighed, looking down at your brother's final resting place.

Taehyung tucked a hand into his pocket, watching the way you were standing beside him silently. He had a feeling that your words weren't just in regards to you and him anymore.

You heard the grass crunch as Taehyung moved, walking to stand behind you.

“It's not all bad."

You raised an eyebrow, opening your mouth to ask what he meant when you felt the weight on his chin rest against your shoulder.

"We found each other in the end." He said softly, causing your chest to tighten.

Because you too knew that this wasn't just about the two of you. Because although you had lost your brother, every day that you spent with Taehyung made me feel closer to your brother than you had ever been. The two of you would exchange memories of him, some of which you didn't even remember and some of which felt unimportant back then, but now brought you comfort. Sure, neither of you had a full picture of who Jungkook really was, but the pieces he had left behind finally made sense now that the two of you could hold them up beside one another.

And as Taehyung wrapped his arms around you, you let yourself sink back into his chest, for once not worried about feeling small or vulnerable.

"Yeah." You agreed, cheeks warm. "I guess we did."

[we-want-mini-mini]

Because I fell in love with the previous prompt/oneshot I wrote about an OC falling into the DC universe (specifically Gotham) and wants to avoid the Vigilantes/Wayne and Co but fucking fails at it (or succeeds, who knows).

This one shot is about—

The Reluctant Executive Assistant To Lex Luthor, Who Also Is A Supervillian

Masterlist | Pervious Post Regarding This Oneshot

Warnings! Strong language, mentions of disassociation, mentions of body dysphoria, non-graphic description of violence, probably OOC Lex Luthor, shitty spelling and grammar oh my!

LIA WONDERED WHAT SHE DID TO ANGER THE UNIVERSE, what she did so heinous, so deplorable, so bastardly to be punished in this way. She reclined into her plush sofa, her eyed glazed over, as they seemingly stared beyond the cream colored walls of her small Metropolis apartment. On her coffee table, laid a stack of papers. Papers that were at least a couple inches thick, filled with long winded explanations, language that could confuse anyone, and an agreement to become Lex Luthors god damn Executive Assistant.

I’m basically going to be a glorified Secretary, for one of the most powerful men in the world... Whose also a raging fucking Supervillain too. Lia thought with a groan, rubbing her face. Her mind whirled with various thoughts, plans and so, oh so much more. The fact that she’s been offered such a prestigious job, at the tender age of 23 years old. A job as the right hand to a fucking Supervillain, Jesus Christ...

Ever since Lia woke up in her doppelgänger’s body, all those years ago, she made a decision that she would never involve herself with the various vigilantes of this world. But, considering she lived in Gotham before this, she had to cope with the fact that her city had various Vigilantes running around, doing whatever they were doing. But, Lia had the upper hand you see: the world she came from, all the Vigilantes and hero’s were fictional characters! Thus, she knew all their origin stories, secret identities and the like. In her pervious world, every kid knew that Superman was unassuming reporter Clark Kent of the Daily Planet. Who also happened to be Lia’s next door neighbor. You know what, I’m not even going to go down that rabbit hole. Nope. Nah. I’m good.

But, adjusting to life in her new body wasn’t a simple walk in the park. She had to adjust to a whole new city (perviously Lia lived in New York, which was the inspiration for Gotham but still). A whole new environment that became desensitized to the causal, practically fanatasical acts of violence ranging from man made super blizzards, the occasional alien invasion and etc. Not to mention, Lia had to cope with the fact she, in essence, lived in an entirely different body. The first two years of living in this world, Lia struggled with dissociation and body dyshoria at the fact that one: she now lived in a completely different world compared to her pervious world, and two: she inhabited a body that, yes is her, but, at the same time, wasn’t her.

Thank goodness mom realized what was happening and shipped my ass off to the few non-supervillain therapist in Gotham. Lia thought with a huff like laughter.

Her eyes then soon trailed too the stack of papers Lex Luthor gave, ones that detailed her contract of becoming his Executive Assistant. One, that would make her one of the most powerful women in the US by being the right hand of Lex Luthor. Who also is a fucking supervillain, god damn it.

Lia vowed to herself to never involve herself with the various superheroes, vigilantes, or villains of her new world. She wanted to live a normal as possible life, not wanting to have such a heavy responsibility of being a hero on her alreayd aching shoulders. She did not want to get involved in the drama that often plagued those who entered that life. She did not want to endanger her family (or herself) because she has connections with people who are vigilantes. Specifically, when she was a student at Gotham U, she avoided anything surrounding the Wayne’s (considering they are the infamous Bats and Birds that protect Gotham and her people). Likely, the only times she ever saw said infamous Vigilantes were the few unlucky times she was in a hostage situation and when she was about to be mugged those couple of times.

As far as interactions outside of their vigilante identities, she’s bumped into Bruce Wayne shopping with Damian, Stephanie, Cassandra and Tim. And oh boy, oh boy, did Lia pray to any deities out their to make sure this was the first and last time she ever met them. Her only words to Bruce Wayne (also fucking Batman) was a high pitched apology and the wish to be smited by God that very second. She’s also bumped in Dick Grayson the one time she visited some friends in Blüdhaven in a coffee shop. They struck up conversation, and it wasn’t till the end of the conversation did she realize who it was. After that, she always went out with headphones in her ears as they are the universal symbol of Don’t Talk To Me. And as for Jason, she’s seen Red Hood when she was out late at a 24/7 7/11, picking up some food. Frankly, Lia was to strung up on zero sleep and pure caffeine and spite to honestly give a single shit. Lia vaguely remembered wanting a specific thing, and Red Hood also reaching for it. She snatched said snack with a word, ignoring Red Hoods existence completely. The cashier looked like they saw a ghost but, as always, Lia was tired to give a single flying shit.

However, Lia’s paranoia didn’t simmer down. So much so, that she applied for an internship at LexCorp, her excuse being she wanted to have a change of scenery. While working at LexCorp, she gained considerable amount of knowledge and experience, but compromised with her mom that, after her internship finished up in LexCorp, she’s go to WE and work there. Lia had deep seeded concerns about working at WE, but after going back and forth in her head, she decided that, fuck it. It’s a gigantic ass company. There’s such a low percentage of me ever crossing paths with one of the Waynes and Co. Plus, mom drives a hard bargain. And damn, do I honestly miss Gotham. It’s so damn bright here. And it’s called fucking Metroplis of all things.

Before Lia could further brood about what her life had become, the sound of her doorbell flooded Lia’s ears. Lia’s eyebrows scrunched together, did I order something? But, she shrugged to herself, springing to her feet. Better find out then, I guess.

When Lia opened the door, she expected, say, a delivery person, or, a neighbor asking to borrow something. What she did not expect was her 5’3” mother, standing next to a 6-something, rather muscular, but familiar figure of—HOLY SHIT IT’S SUPERMAN, WHAT THE FUCK—

Next to her mothers petite figure, was the gargantuan stature of one Clark Kent, AKA, Superman. Lia could feel her blood pressure rise.

“Mom! Mr. Kent! What a nice surprise.” Lia said, through a tight lipped smile. Her mother simply smiled, laughing lightly.

“Habibi, it’s been such a long time—and, wait did you loose weight?” Her mother’s once smiling face turned sour, her eyebrows pinched together in worry. Her warm brown eyes trailing up and down Lia’s figure. Lia’s face immediately warmed up a few degrees, then her mother took hold of her face, examining it closer. Lia let out a indignant squawk, “Mom! Not infront of the neighbor please!”

Clark simply laughed, “No, it’s alright. I can understand a mother’s worry as my own Ma does the same thing whenever she visits.”

Her mother nodded, “See! He doesn’t mind, habibi. Now, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you. Mr. Kent, if you would be a dead, could help me set the food on the table?”

Clark smiles, his teeth a little too white and dazzling. “Of course! But please, call me Clark.”

Her mother laughed, while nodding. “Of course, Clark. Now, come in, come in.” Her mother said, inviting Lia’s neighbor into her apartment. She let out a sigh, moving out of the way.

Before long, Clark, Lia and her mother were setting up dinner. Somehow, someway, Lia’s mother convinced Clark to stay for dinner, while sending meaningful glances towards Lia. Lia wanted to jump out of her window. Knowing that her mother would always be her wingwomen, was, strangely nice, but this time? Trying to set her up with fucking Superman? Nope. Nah. No happening mom, no matter how hot Clark looks. Not. Happening.

Her mother, soon strikes up conversation with Clark about work. He talks about the Daily Planet, and being a reporter. Soon, the topic veers to Lia, whose honestly forgotten that Clark was Superman for a couple minutes.

“...on the topic of internships, my Lia currently interns at LexCorp, if I’m not wrong.” Her mother says, sending a pointed look to Lia.

“Uh. Yeah. I’m currently working at LexCorp as an intern.” Lia says, watching for Clark’s reaction at the fact that she works for his biggest nemesis. She can see it, the infantasmal flinch, before he relaxes again.

“Oh, is that so? From what your mother said, didn’t you live in Gotham before coming to Metropolis?” He inquires, setting down some plates on Lia’s dining table. Lia freezes up, since, she can’t just say: Well, you see, I know the identities of Gotham’s infamous vigilantes, who happen to also run and own WE.

“Well, I wanted a change of scenery really.” Lia added smoothly, taking out all the food and sorting them. She kept her face and tone neutral, watching Clark’s every move and reaction.

His face had a knowing look, as he gave a small nod. “I can understand that. Gotham and Metropolis are two very different cities and wanting a change of scenery is a fine reason for moving.”

Lia hums noncommittally, while her mother sighs. “I still wished you would’ve stayed in Gotham, you know. It’s closer and I worry for you, Habibi.”

Lia buffs through her nose. “Mom. I’m 24 and very much so capable of protecting myself, considering you were the one who taught me how to knock a man thrice my size out in a single punch since I was 7.”

Clark makes a sort strangled noise and covers it up with a cough. Lia’s mother simple sighs, her face showing her true age. “Of course your capable of defending yourself. Why would I let my daughter out and about in Gotham of all places with being able to defend herself? I just worry, ya habibi. This is a whole new city and you also live by yourself.”

“I’ve been living by myself since I was 18, mom.” Lia interjected but her mother gives her a look.

“Yes, you have been living by yourself since you were 18 but at least you were nearby. I worry, regardless of the fact.”

Lia sighs. They’ve had this talk numerous times, before Lia moved to Metropolis and before she even uttered her concerns about wanting to move. “I know.” She says softly.

The conversation dies out, as everything soon is set. However, before they could start eating, Lia’s mother spots the stack of papers.

“Lia, what with the stack of papers?” She inquired, her head gesturing to the coffee table.

“The stack of what?” Lia yelled out, as she was in the kitchen getting a jug of water. Her mother, whose curiosity guided her, got up from her seat and took ahold of the papers.

“The papers on your coffee table. What are they for?” She asked again, when she heard Lia set the jug of water down.

Lia, whose brain was preoccupied with a million other thoughts, carelessly said the phrase: “Oh, my contract to become Executive Assistant to Lex Luthor.”

Clark almost dropped what he was holding, before discreetly catching it with his super speed. Lia’s mother stilled, her eyes wide as saucers, her lips slightly parted.

“Your what to whom?” Her mother asked, her tone beyond incredulous.

Lia short circuited. She realized what she just said. In front of fucking Superman. In front of her mother. Fuck. Why does the universe hate me?

Before Clark could say anything else on the matter, his phone buzzed. The mother daughter pair snapped their gaze at Clark, whose face grew even more surprised.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I have to go. Something urgent just came up.” He said, shoving his phone back into his pant pocket. The mother-daughter pair simply nodded, as they watched a slightly frantic Clark Kent shuffle out of Lia’s small apartment.

When they heard Lia’s apartment door shut closed, her mother’s head whipped towards Lia’s. Her face went rigid, the past surprise at the new was scrubbed away, being replaced with a cold, calculative look. She gestured to Lia to sit down, at the dining table.

Lia, who simply stared at her for a while, sighed, before taking the opposite seat across from her mother. She knew this conversation will be a long one, thus, she started to pile on the food her mother brought.

“The contract in your hands, is a contract between me and Lex Luthor. It’s about me becoming his Executive Assistant.”

Her mother hummed, while also taking some food. “So, you’re going to be his right hand, essentially?”

Lia nodded. Well, sure. I’m technically a glorified secretary with a lot of power now. But sure, right hand is a lot more appealing. But she didn’t voice those thoughts, simply taking a bite of her food.

“Well, this took a turn I did not expect it too.” Her mother said with a sigh.

“You and me both, mom.”

Lia never would’ve imagined, not in a million Earths, would she become Lex-fucking-Luthors Executive Assistant. She honestly thought she would finish her internship without much fanfare and move back to Gotham to apply for a position at the WE.

“So,” her mother began, setting her fork down. “How the hell did you catch Luthors eye?”

“Well, it’s a bit of a long story but...”

A COUPLE DAYS AGO, the department in which Lia was interning suddenly lost a handful of employees who quit for whatever reason. Not to mention, an important meeting was scheduled and was now completely fucked due to these employees leaving. Plus, some other important event was also going on with some higher level execs and that was also in jeopardy. Lia, who was witnessing this utter shit storm in real time, realized, oh fuck. This is bad. Really bad. And decided to do something about it. Lia, at the time, was known in her department as someone who can manage a schedule like no ones business, convince people to do things her way like it was as easy as drinking water. She had a reputation and the department head was a chicken whose head was cut off, trying to put out the proverbial fires one by one, rather ineffectively. Lia, who made friends with various other interns in other departments (who worked with other high level employees), and who had various connections in Metropolis, was able to salvage most of the day (and subsequent week). She was able to fill in those positions rather quickly (the department head was more then happy to oblige), re-schedule the various important meetings and events that were scheduled that in under three hours after some (what Lia called) “aggressive persuasion”. Somehow, someway, the story of some intern with godly management abilities, persuasion skills made its way up to the big man himself: Lex Luthor.

When Lex Luthor heard of this, he became intrigued. Thus, he called Lia up, all the way to his office. Lia, who when was told that fucking Lex Luthor himself wanted to see her, was understandably shitting bricks. Her mind immediately went to the fact that somehow, someway, he figured out that Lia knew the identities of various vigilantes. Lia, who was reasonably terrified at the thought, began to draw up counter arguments and contingencies.

The entire way to Lex Luthor’s office Lia went through the seven stages of grief (the extra two are Denial 2 and astral projection). She thanked those she loved, and made her not peace with God. When Lia finally arrived to Luthors office, she immediately compartmentalized all her feelings, slapped on her most convincing cooperate smile, and knocked on his door, saying in the most polite and calm tone she could muster: “Mr. Luthor? You called for me, Lia al-Abadi?”

The moment she heard the muffled “come in.” Lia sent one more prayer to whatever deity out their, and strode into Luthors office.

Now, Lia has seen pictures and clips of Luthors office. But, it was one thing too see it and another to be in it. Lia, when entering the large office, with Luthor facing the window out looking Metropolis, felt her heart drop all the way to the earths core.

Her hands were discreetly balled up in her sides, her nails digging crescent shaped moons into the palm of her hand. The shirt underneath her blazer was definitely soaked through, but, thankfully, Lia wore a black blazer today, so it wasn’t that noticeable. Probably. Hopefully.

Lia took in a deep breath, trying to calm her hammering heart. “Mr. Luthor?” She called out, her voice surprisingly even. Her heart hammered against her chest, so hard, it seemed it would burst through any moment. God, what the fuck is my life anymore.

Luthor, being the dramatic ass Supervillian that he is, spun around, his hands clasped together as he faced Lia, sitting in a typical, large, black, swivel chair. The only thing he was missing was the white cat in his lap. 

Lia could feel herself die a little when she made direct eye contact with the man, the legend, the Asshole, himself: Lex god damn Luthor.

“Ah, Ms. al-Abadi, please, do sit down.” He said, his voice uncharacteristically bright and inviting. But, Lia knows better then to trust the fox when it was simling. She could see the calculative glint in his eyes. Carefully, she walked towards Luthor, who kept his picture prefect smile. The only thing that filled Lia in for the eternally long, yet short walk towards Luthor was the clicks of her heel, and her heart hammering against her eardrums.

Her hand, which she forced to keep steady, took ahold of the chair, dragging it away from the desk. The ugly screeches of the chair legs against the marble floor still reasonated through Lia’s ears. But, at least she saw the slightly—almost invisible—eye twitch that gave away his annoyance.

Lia, who kept her face devoid of any emotions, slowly sat down. Her eyes still focused on Luthors stupid smiling face.

When she sat down (finally, Jesus Christ that was a lot more anxiety inducing then I thought) she kept her back straight, shoulder squared and her hands on her lap. She could still feel her heart beating hard against her rib cage, and the million thoughts of Luthor somehow finding out about Lia and her knowledge of the identities of the various vigilantes. Her hands became clammy, her entire being screamed, I AM VERY UNCOMFORTABLE! but, Lia was stuck in between the proverbial rock and a hard place (rock: chair, hard place: Luthor’s office).

Her lips stretched into her patented cooperate smile, “You had called for me, Mr. Luthor, sir?”. Fuck my life. Lia thought, still smiling while she slowly died on the inside.

Luthor bared his teeth, lips stretched into a smile. “Please, call me Lex, Ms. al-Abadi.”

Lia, with ever cell in her very being, absolutely rebelled at the prospect of calling Lex Luthor just Lex. For one, he’s her boss, and Lia was raised to be polite. Second, Lia only ever referred to Lex Luthor either as Luthor or Lex Luthor, never just Lex. Third, Lex Luthor is a goddamn Supervillain, no fucking way am I calling him by his first name.

Lia’s fave stretched out into a tight lipped smile. “I’m afraid cannot do that, Mr. Luthor.” She said through gritted teeth, face still stretched out into a tight lipped smile.

Luthor cocked his eyebrow. “Oh? And why is that?”

For one, your Supervillain. Second, me saying your first name, and just your first name, tiggers my flight or fight response. Lia, of course, did not response to Lex Luthor’s question with that reply. Instead she said, “For one, Mr. Luthor, you are my boss and I am your employee. Employees don’t generally refer to their boss by their first names. Secondly, me referring to you by your first name implies that I am in some way, shape or form, close to you. Considering this is my first time ever meeting you personally, I can’t—” Won’t “—refer to you by your first name.”

A beat of silence. Lia, who continued to smile at Luthor as he stared at her for a good few moments, before lightly chuckling.

“Well, when you put it like that, Ms. al-Abadi, I cannot disagree. However, I do hope in the near future you would be more comfortable calling me Lex rather then Mr. Luthor.” He said, his face all smiles.

For a moment, Lia was confused. She was simply a temporary intern that would leave in about two months, how would she hypothetically warm up to Luthor enough so to call him Lex? Plus, what he said also implied that Lia would stay in LexCorp long enough to warm up to Luthor.

Then a thought crossed Lia’s mind. Wait, does he want to be my sugar daddy?? Which Lia immediately shot down, as, this is Lex Luthor, why the fuck would he be interested in being my sugar daddy? Even though I am fucking beautiful, thats for sure. But still. Lia shuddered at the thought before getting back on the topic at hand.

“Mr. Luthor, I am just a simple intern that will be leaving in about two months. I don’t understand how I would be able to get close to you enough so that I refer to you by your first name,” Lia said.

Then another thought crossed her mind, “Unless, you’re planning on making me a full time employee?” There was a slight tilt in Lia’s voice, her eyebrows slightly pinched together. Lia, however, racks her brain for any reason why Lex Luthor of all people would personally call her to his office just to say he’s going to hire her as a full time employee.

Luthor nodded, “Precisely, Ms. al-Abadi. But, I don’t just want to make you any full time employee, that would simply be a waste of your talent and potential.” He said, reaching for one of his drawers, pulling out a stack of papers.

A wave of confusion wash over Lia. Talent? Potential? The fuck did I do to catch Luthors attention of all people? “I’m not sure what you mean by my ‘talent and potential’, Mr. Luthor.” She said, while shaking her head. She honestly didn’t think of anything note worthy enough to catch a awfully busy man like Luthor.

A flash of confusion flickered through Luthors face before being plastered with another smile. “Ms. al-Abadi, I’m sure you know your reputation among the other interns, right?”

Lia’s eyes narrowed, as she hesitantly nodded. She was infamous for managing a clusterfuck of a schedule into an actual, mangable schedule. Lia was also known for her “aggressive persuasion” tactics and the like.

“Not to mention, the situation in which many employees from the department you interned in, quit. Resulting in many important events and meetings to be up in the air. Not to mention some other notable things that happened that day.” Luthor said, matter of factly.

And, he wasn’t wrong. But the fact that Luthor knew of that utter shitstorm raised more then a few alarms in Lia��s head. The situation that occurred that day was promptly swept under the rug and Lia only complained about the situation to a couple intern friends and her brother. Then, the face of Ana—an intern from the PR Department—flashed through Lia’s eyes. Lia wanted to strangle herself. Of course she told fucking loose lipped Ana about situation that never should’ve reached Luthor’s ears, god fucking damn it. No matter how much Lia wanted to groan and fight God, she kept her composure.

Lia gulped down, rubbing her hands as another smile made its way onto her lips. “Well, I simply did what had to.” I had pull so many fucking favors, and most of my god damn grey hairs are from that day, Jesus Christ. Whenever Lia remembered that day, her face (internally) soured, and the need for her to curse out God, the universe, whoever, was so great she had to bite her tongue (literally) to force herself not to go on a 20 minute rant about the entire situation. Still, even with her bubbling feelings of pure, unbridled rage, Lia kept her composure. This is a professional environment. I’m infront of my boss. Whose one of the most powerful man in the US. Whose also a raging Supervillain. I have to stay professional. Professional...

“Nonsense, Ms. al-Abadi. From what I heard, you had a situation presented to you, a situation that was falling at the seems no less—and somehow salavaged it. In under three hours, you were able to salvage the situation, reorder them schedule and was able to avert a scandal as well.”

Lia, for whatever reason, felt her face grow hot at the praise. She, of course, knew how shitty the situation became—did what she always did—complained a bit, and moved on. Planning, reorganizing, improvising plans on the go, and her “aggressive persuasion” is something Lia always did. She didn’t find such things awfully notable, as she’s been doing this sort of thing since the ninth grade.

“T-That’s—” Lia cleared her throat. “That’s quit a bit of praise, Mr. Luthor, considering I didn’t do much aside from reorganize and persuased a few people. Nothing that I consider rather notable, enough so to earn your attention.” Unnecessary attention, was left unsaid.

Luthor simply smiled, his teeth too white and straight for Lia’s eyes. “You might consider it unnotable, but I beg to differ.”

Then beg—Lia almost retorted, but she caught the phrase before it could ever leave. Fucking siblings.

Luthor pushes the stack on papers closer Lia. “Which is why—I want you, Ms. Lia al-Abadi, to become my Executive Assistant.”

Lia, when she heard the words Executive Assistant concluded that the universe hates her and that she will make preparations to fight God.

Safe to say, Lia was just offered a prestigious position, next to Lex Luthor, to be his Executive Assistant. The same Lex Luthor who is actively fighting against Superman—the Justice League at large—and it an overall Supervillain. One of Superman’s most noteworthy Supervillian. A Supervillian, who can potentially kill Superman because he has access to a grow, green rock. A Supervillian who made a clone of Superman—combing his and Superman’s DNA—to do so. The same Supervillain, who essentially was asking: “Do you want to be my right hand?”

“You want me to be your what?” Lia asked in an incredulous tone. She looked at the stack of papers and Luthor several times, while pointing to herself. “Me? A 23 year old, with barely any experience in the cooperate world, work as your Executive Assistant?”

Luthor, surprisingly, nodded, his face not showing a hint of annoyance. “Yes, I am. Of course, you should take your time to think over my offer. It is Friday, and I’ll be expecting your answer next Monday. Come to my office at 3 PM, next Monday, and we’ll talk some more, Ms. al-Abadi. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another meeting to get too.”

Next thing Lia knew, she was holding onto a stack of papers, in an elevator, going down back to her original office. When she came back, several people commented on how dazed and pale she looked. One of her supervisors even asked if she wanted the rest of the day off (as there wasn’t much left to do, either way). Lia, who was still reeling from the events that had just transpired, graciously accepted.

Lia’s mother, who kept on listening to the entire ordeal, from start to finish simply commented. “Well, damn.”

Lia groaned, her hands rubbing her face. “‘Well, damn’? That’s all you have to say on the fact that one of the most powerful man in America offering me a position as his god damn Executive Assistant?”

“Hey! It’s a lot for me to take in, and, it must a lot for you to take in.” Her mother said, reaching out, taking a hold of Lia’s hand. She gave a comforting squeeze.

“Yeah, it was...” Lia mumbled. She sighed, her eyes on the stack of papers detailing what Lia’s responsibilities were, and some other key information. The stack of papers that could change her life with a single stroke of a pen.

“So, what are you going to do? Accept Luthors offer, or...?”

“It’d be dumb for me not to accept it.”

“Damn right it would be!”

Lia shoot her mother a look, before continuing, “It’s just... I’m only 23 and me getting this job is just... There’s a lot to consider. Sure, I’m good at managing schedules, persuading people and—” Her mother snorted, waving her hand.

“Hey! I am good at all those things, you know.” Lia exclaimed, crossing her arms.

Her mother raised both her hands, shaking her head. “Never said you were bad at them, Habibi. Your a damn genius when it comes to organizing events and persuading people. Not good, not great, but a god damn genius.” Her mother voice clearly showing how proud she was of Lia.

The tips of Lia’s ears were painted bright red, as her face spilt into a grin. “Yeah, yeah, I guess I am. But, the matter at hand is that, I don’t have much experience in the cooperate world. And, I just graduated a couple months ago. Not to mention, if I accept the position, there’s going to be a lot of talk on how, I, a 23 year old, rather attractive women, who just recently graduated from Gotham U, who was just a regular intern, managed to get the position of Executive Assistant to Lex Luthor.”

Her mother sighed. “True, there definitely will be rumors regarding how earned such a position without much prior experience.”

Lia sagged in her seat, her mind a tornado of thoughts. Should she accept? Should she decline? Should she msyteriously disappear off the face of the Earth, never to be seen again? Decisions, decision, so many decisions with so many consequences and variables at play that made Lia’s head ache. She had time, but not enough. It was late in the evening on Friday, and Luthor wanted an answer by Monday afternoon. Great. Just a couple dozen hours till D-Day. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“What about a trial basis?” Her mother blurted out. Lia cocked her eyebrow, gesturing for her to continue.

“Like, what if, you were his Executive Assistant for a couple of months, on a trial basis. Just to dip your toes in and get a feel for the job. That sort of thing.” She said with a shrug.

Lia’s eyes widen, as if a light bulb went off her head. “Oh my god. Why didn’t I think of that? That’s prefect! Not only would it allow me ample time to see if I’m ready for such a position, but also invaluable experience if I were too not take the position or Luthor deemed me unworthy of it.”

With a sort of plan set in mind, Lia continued to eat, all with a smile on her face. Even if after the trial basis, Luthor deems me unfit, I still get away with a couple months worth of pay that would pay off my student loans, not to mention invaluable experience. I win regardless of the fact if I get the job or I don’t!

With the sun setting, and Lia eating her fill, while catching up with her mother on other past events, Lia can’t seem to stop smiling. Even if she’s going to become the (Reculant) Executive Assistant to Lex Luthor, who also is a Supervillian.

That’s it folks! I had a lot of fun writing this in all honesty, even though it’s not that good. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Till next time.

[futuresmashmemes]

In complete curiosity, can you tell me what your favorite Smash reveal trailer of all time was?

Like, actually, real shit, stuff that’s already happened in this timeline?

Nothing will ever top Smash 4’s reveal for me. I was really into Brawl as a kid, and after Brawl came out a lot of people spread the idea online that it would be the last smash game (hilarious in hindsight, I know). Me, being the dumb kid I was, took that at face value. I also wasn’t really into following leaks at the time. I was also 12, almost 13 when 4 was revealed, keep in mind. I just sort of accepted that smash was done.

I vividly remember when I first saw that reveal trailer. We were in the middle of bumfuck nowhere for my sister’s soccer game. I was sweaty, hungry, and my phone was running out of battery. I managed to convince my mom to let me stay in the car for the rest of the game, where I promptly began charging my phone and went onto YouTube to pull up some music to listen to (knowing me at the time, it probably would’ve been an Evanescence song). And there, at the top of my recommended feed, was that trailer.

It almost didn’t feel real. I was so convinced that Smash was over, I almost thought that the video would’ve been a fake. Some shitty mod or whatever. But I clicked on it anyways, because, y’know, Smash Bros! Boy am I glad I did. Instantly, I was enthralled by the idea of Smash on the go. I didn’t have a 3DS at the time, but I played on my DS like I was getting paid for every second the screen was on. Having a portable smash game was a dream come true! And when they got to the Wii U part of the trailer, I was drawn in by the visual upgrade compared to Brawl. I was a dumb kid who didn’t know anything about graphics watching this trailer in 480p on a shitty Windows phone, and even I could tell how much of a graphics upgrade it was compared to Brawl. I didn’t have a Wii U at the time either, but I was still excited.

The new characters announced were just the icing on the cake. I love Animal Crossing, but I never expected an Animal Crossing rep in smash because I read that Sakurai had previously said that Animal Crossing characters were unsuited for battle. So when that trailer opened up on a shot of the Villager opening the now iconic envelope, my hype levels instantly shot through the roof of the car. Really, I should consider myself lucky that I was watching this trailer in the middle of an empty parking lot in the middle of nowhere and not, say, on the bus ride home from school, because after that point, I was visibly freaking out throughout. I would’ve been perfectly satisfied with just Villager, but then the trailer continued. The videos online right now show these two as separate videos, but I definitely remember watching them as one big trailer.

NEW CHALLENGER APPROACHING!

Oh boy, who could it be? The gang looked up at a cliff to see a boy with distinct spiky hair.

“No. There’s no way it could be him. There’s just no way! I read online that he couldn’t get in, so it’s not him.”

Blip!

“OH MY GOD IT IS HIM HOLY SHIT IT’S MEGA MAN FUCKING MEGA MAN HOLY S H I T!”

It didn’t feel real. It felt like a dream. But I was loving every second of it. And even better, the next video in my recommended feed was the trailer for Wii Fit Trainer. What? Why? Who asked for this? I was dumbfounded, but all for it.

I think that those three characters made for the perfect holy trinity of character reveals. The anticipated first party/character Sakurai previously said no to, the third party, and the character that nobody saw coming. Smash 4’s initial reveal had it all. I probably rewatched that trailer for the rest of the soccer game. I texted all my friends about it, and they were all nearly as excited as I was. I would’ve told my mom and sister all about it when they got back in the car, but I wasn’t supposed to be using data at the time, so if they knew that I had used it to watch a silly reveal trailer over and over again, mom probably would’ve had a heart attack (this was before unlimited data was more standard). But you better believe that I exploded on about it as soon as I figured it was safe to.

Even after all these years (and all of the timelines I’ve looked into), no Smash trailer...no, more like no trailer period has ever gotten close to capturing the pure excitement that I felt when I first saw the Smash 4 trailer, and I doubt that there ever will be one. I’m a jaded adult now, and everything is more exciting through the rose-tinted glass of adolescence. The “Everyone is Here!” trailer for Ultimate came close, though. Smash 4’s development was also something of a turning point for me when I became more active in following the development of new games online. I think it was for a lot of people, I think that a lot of that can be attributed to Brawl’s success (and the Wii as a whole) at capturing a wider demographic of gamers compared to Melee and 64. Smash 4 feels almost laughable to go back and play now, but I can’t deny the impact it had on me.

As far as other individual reveal trailers go, here are my favorites:

Little Mac and Palutena-both for the same reason: THAT ART STYLE. Their trailers also convinced me to play their respective games. Uprising was one of my first 3DS games and Punch Out is the last game I remember renting from Blockbuster.

Greninja-As laughable as this sounds now, getting a new Pokémon rep was really hype for me back then. I was beginning to get into competitive, so seeing the ninja frog that had taken over the competitive scene at the time get into smash was cool, even if I was Team Fennekin. Confirmation that at least Charizard had survived the cut was also really cool.

Robin and Lucina-I didn’t know anything about Fire Emblem at the time, but Robin looked cool and I was digging the 3D anime artstyle from Awakening that the trailer was rendered in. Another trailer that convinced me to buy the game that they were from, and good god now I’m an insufferable Fire Emblem fan good lord I was so innocent back then. “Girl Marth” jokes were rampant amongst my friends. Also, CAPTAIN FALCON!!!

Lucas-Funny story, my sister absolutely despises video games with a burning, visceral passion now, but back when we played Brawl together, her mains were Lucas and Snake. You can imagine the pain and agony she felt when Smash 4 initially came out. Lucas’ DLC came out around my birthday, so her gift to me that year was a $10 eShop card. She just told me: “you know what to spend it on.”

Cloud-“Hey guys, you know what would’ve been awesome? In Brawl, if, like, they put in Cloud from Final Fantasy 7?”

Corrin-At this point I was a big Fire Emblem fan riding hot on the hype train for Fates, so I was very excited for Corrin. The dragon-inspired moveset also seemed really cool. Funny how times have changed, and when Byleth was added in I was very lukewarm compared to when my reaction to Corrin.

Inkling-Similar story to the Smash 4 reveal trailer, I was absolutely not expecting a Smash announcement that day and I saw the video was in my YouTube recommended feed while I was at my internship of all places. Unfortunately, none of the other people there were gamers (let alone Smash fans), so they couldn’t share in my hype.

Everyone is Here/Ridley-I can’t properly give this one the justice it deserves in a short amount of words and this post is already getting really long, so I’ll save this one for a later day if you guys are interested. To keep it short, let’s just say that I was very much a part of the Ridley gang and I was very happy to see him in.

Belmonts and K. Rool-I got up at 7 in the morning to watch that trailer and loved every second of it. Keep in mind that I am not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination. The only thing that sort of spoiled it for me was that the Smash teams themselves leaked it the night before by releasing a track titled Bloody Tears/Monster Dance

Ken and Incineroar-Nothing against these two, but at the time I was crushed when I realized the Grinch leak was fake. Now I can look back on it and laugh at Little Mac getting yeeted through the billboard and Villager’s stance at the end of the trailer.

Sans Mii Costume-Pretty sure I’ve already mentioned this, but when I first saw that trailer I legit fell out of my chair laughing. I’m not even an Undertale fan, but seeing funny skeleton man on my screen just broke me. The fact that Toby went to Sakurai’s house and beat him in Smash made it even better.

Banjo-I’ve never actually played a Banjo Kazooie game before, but I’ve seen enough videos about them over the years that I almost feel like I have. They’re ingrained in my childhood due to that in a weird way. Plus, it felt so good to have a victory over the Steve fans. I felt the weight of that Jiggy that bounced on the floor.

And that’s about it! If you guys want to hear my thoughts on the Everyone is Here trailer, please let me know and I’ll do another post like this.

...Upon rereading this post for spelling errors, I realized that you probably were more asking about my favorite reveal trailers throughout multiple timelines. Oops. Let me know if that’s what you wanted and I’ll answer with my thoughts on my favorite future reveal trailers.

[rsbry-beret]

Intent At Tuning In On You

Find it on Ao3 here!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24191749

Tobin wasn’t trying to snoop. That should be cleared up right away- it was a real, actual accident that he found Leif’s personal laptop still open on his desk, signed into YouTube and everything.

Yeah, he hadn’t knocked before he came in like he was supposed to. Leif had a weird policy about ‘personal privacy’ and ‘I respect your space, please respect mine’. Probably because of that one time in college when Tobin had walked in on him- anyway, Tobin thought it was a stupid policy, but it was Leif’s stupid policy, so he didn’t argue.

And sure, when Leif hadn’t answered Tobin had come in, but that wasn’t unreasonable! Leif could have slipped on his immaculate and regularly mopped floors and he could be bleeding out from his head. Really, Tobin was being responsible by checking on him.

Maybe when Tobin saw that Leif wasn’t in the room, he hadn’t left immediately. Sue him, he was hardly ever in here- he and Leif usually chilled in the living room together, and between Leif’s ‘privacy, seriously Tobin, do I need to use it in a sentence?’ and the fact that they had the same work hours, Tobin didn’t usually have a reason to be in there.

Once Tobin was in the room, he happened to remember that Leif was out for groceries. Whoops? Well, if he was in there anyway he may as well look around, just to tidy up. It’d be a welcome surprise for Leif, coming back to a clean room.

Of course, the room was already spotless. Whatever.

Leif’s room was exactly what one might guess- white walls with one blue accent wall, dark wood furniture. Fucking- Tobin blinked. Three bookshelves somehow wedged in the tiny room, all bursting with a weird assortment of classic literature and graphic novels and no less than four dictionaries. The two of them had moved in at the same time, but they were both so busy trying to get all their stuff up the stairs before having to pay for an extra hour with the U-Haul that Tobin hadn’t really had the time to see what Leif’s room looked like.

There was one lone cactus sitting precariously on the window sill. Tobin looked at it and smiled.

More interestingly, Leif’s personal laptop was sitting, open, on the desk. Tobin felt himself glide over before he could even pretend to stop himself.

On the screen was a little loading bar, 98% complete, with little text that said uploading… please do not log out at this time…

The computer pinged, and set back to a YouTube homepage. Oh holy shit. This was Leif’s password-protected, ridiculously-private, undoubtedly-personal video diary.

And Tobin had access to the whole thing, right that second.

He backed away from the desk very quickly, not trusting himself not to click through and watch them all. His foot snagged on something, probably the dangerously clean hardwood floors, and Tobin fell, gracelessly, onto Leif’s perfectly-made bed with a whoomp.

<>

By the time Leif got back from the store, Tobin was sitting on the couch watching Star Trek and acting, if he said so himself, totally casual.

Leif dropped his reusable tote bag (his favorite one, with the whale decal that was made from 100% recycled materials, because he was just that kind of guy) on the kitchen counter and immediately turned around to look at Tobin, hands on his hips and ice cream left to melt rapidly outside of the freezer.

“Need any help, bro?” Tobin asked nervously.

Leif squinted. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Dude.”

“Nothing! You know, Leif, in a friendship you need to trust the other person.”

Leif sighed and turned to open the freezer. “For the record, you’re so full of shit I can literally smell it, but rocky road is more valuable to me than this conversation.”

“Ouch. Leif that was… ice cold.” Tobin tried to pay attention to Spock, and failed, like the snoopy monster he was.

“Stop,” Leif said quietly, in that strangely-fond tone of voice he only ever used when Tobin made a joke that he was trying not to laugh at.

Netflix asked Tobin if he was still there. He wasn’t sure if he was, actually, but he clicked for the next episode to start anyway.

Leif always refused to ask for Tobin’s help putting the groceries away, another weird independence thing he had, and Tobin had learned by now that if he argued with Leif on adulting-things he’d just get pissy for a few hours. As it was, Tobin paid more attention to the sound of cupboards opening and closing a few yards away from him than he did the title sequence.

Tobin couldn’t really believe he was listening to Leif doing chores instead of Captain Kirk doing… something.

Leif sat down on the couch next to him. “What episode, dude?”

“Uh…” Tobin fumbled with the remote before dropping it on the floor, batteries scattering. Leif stared. “I don’t… know?”

Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by an urgent “beam me up, Scotty!” spoken from the screen. Slowly, Leif slid from the couch to kneel on the floor, fixing the remote and turning off the tv.

Leif sat back down next to Tobin.

“Okay, for real, what’s up with you right now?”

Tobin panicked. “I went into your room!”

Leif froze. Then, slowly and purposefully, asked “is that all?”

“I know you don’t like it when I invade your privacy and shit. Seriously, I’m sorry man…” Tobin looked at his hands fidgeting with his ring before laying his hands flat on his knees, forcing himself to look up at Leif.

“Right,” he said, still sounding cautious. “Well, thank you for telling me-“

“Your laptop was open.”

Jesus Christ, Tobin needed to learn how to shut his mouth.

Leif sat up straight, stiff, like he wasn’t sure if he should run away or something, which was- which was not good, definitely.

“As in, my laptop was open and you saw what was on the screen?”

“As in, your laptop was open and I saw that it was still on and that a video was uploading and I was really curious but-“

Leif cut him off this time, voice high as he rushed out “I am so sorry, Tobin. I didn’t want you to find out this way.” He sounded out of breath, like he just got back from jogging or was about to hyperventilate, or… well, probably he was about to hyperventilate.

Shit, he was about to hyperventilate.

“Hey, woah, Leif.” Tobin quickly scooched over, lifting his arm and laying it around Leif’s shaking shoulders, letting gravity pull him down so he was slumping against Leif.

When Leif got like this, buzzing and anxious and flighty, he needed something to keep him feeling grounded. Tobin first found out about it in sixth grade, right before their Greek mythology debate, when Leif wouldn’t stop pacing until Tobin snapped and tugged him into a tight hug.

Just like when they were eleven, Leif immediately melted into Tobin, ducking his head under Tobin’s chin and exhaling warmly against his collarbone.

They sat there quietly for a while, Tobin breathing as slowly as possible in the hopes that Leif would match it. He rubbed Leif’s back absentmindedly.

Eventually Leif spoke again, still pressed against Tobin’s chest, but words clear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin everything, and I’ll get over you, I swear, I just need more time. I’m sorry, Tobin. I’m so sorry.”

Tobin blinked. His hand froze on Leif’s back. What.

“What?”

Leif pulled back haltingly, like he didn’t want to at all. “I know you don’t feel the same, and it’s okay, because you’re my best friend first. I just don’t want to lose you, man.” Leif scratched at his neck.

Tobin blue screened

“No, wait, what? Back up, please. I have no idea what’s going on.”

Leif’s eyebrows furrowed. “You saw what was on my laptop, right?”

Tobin leaned forward slightly. “Yeah. You had your YouTube thing up, and I really wanted to look at it but I knew you’d never forgive me, so I didn’t look, but I shouldn’t have been there in the first place and I invaded your privacy and so I wanted to apologize.”

Tobin watched as Leif’s face contorted rapidly. He tried to count out all the emotions he saw there- confusion, panic, realization- before giving up. Eventually he settled on something trying to be casual but looking more horrified than anything else.

“Oh. Right. Okay, then.” Leif’s ears were bright red. He tried to stand, but Tobins hand was still half on his shoulder, so Tobin pulled him back down again.

“No. No, not okay. What were you saying, Leif?” Tobin could feel his heart, not quite stuck in his throat but up in his shoulders, tense and beating fast and too hard.

“I think you know,” he said quietly.

Tobin dragged his hand down Leif’s arm, folding around his hand. “I think I need you to tell me.”

Leif stared at their intertwined hands before looking up and meeting Tobin’s eyes. “I’m in love with you, Tobin Batra.”

It wasn’t a surprise, in hindsight. But it was different to know something, intrinsically and unquestionably, in the back of his head, than it was to hear it out loud and in the open.

Leif Donnelly was in love with him. He tried the words out in his head, curled his mouth around it silently. It felt… nice.

Leif was still staring at him, hopeful, but Tobin wasn’t done thinking yet. He held his hand tighter. “Give me a minute?”

Leif’s face fell. “Yeah, of course, dude.” He half-stood again, but Tobin didn’t let go.

“No.” Leif looked confused, torn, a little hurt. “No, stay. I just- stay for a minute while I think?”

Tobin watched as something unfolded in Leifs eyes. He sat down again, calm and soft, and held Tobin’s hand back just as tight.

Leif Donnelly was in love with him. Was he in love with Leif Donnelly? He stared at Leif’s eyes, blue and bright and shining even in the light of their shitty IKEA lamp that they bought together for Leif’s college dorm. He stared at the curve of his nose, at his lips and his floppy hair and his ears that were still a little red.

Tobin felt the weight of Leif’s hand in his hand. Tobin didn’t really want that to go away, ever. He couldn’t think of a single time he wanted that to go away, honestly, which meant that whatever he was feeling wasn’t new.

So, he was in love with Leif, and had been since before he knew what it was. Good to know.

“I’m in love with you too,” Tobin finally said. Leif’s hand went slack and his head jolted slightly, as if this was any surprise at all. “I kind of only realized right this second, but yeah, I’ve definitely been in love with you for a while.”

Leif swayed slightly, backwards and then forwards again. And then forwards more, so their noses were almost touching but not quite, and it was a little weird to try to meet his eyes, so Tobin just closed his eyes and brought his other hand up to Leif’s jaw, holding him there.

It felt nice to hold him. To just be this close to him. He wondered how he hadn’t figured this out sooner.

Well, he was glad he figured it out now, at least. No point lingering over lost time when the two of them had so much ahead of them.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Tobin said quietly, “and then I’m going to explain to you that if I’d wanted to watch your vlogs I would’ve just hacked into the YouTube servers again, and that I didn’t because I care about you . Is that okay?”

Leif leaned forward the rest of the way, and that was answer enough.

Title from Video Killed The Radio Star by The Buggles