#like wow my mental state sure was collapsing what the fuck was that

[ihatethishellwebsite]

Thinking about... Aberdeen Zalinki cover again...

Bro really uploaded one of the most beautifully painful songs I have ever heard in my fucking life and then wiped it off the face of the earth without warning, I only have it downloaded bc I was gonna use it in a speedpaint and then HOURS after I downloaded it he took it down like holy shit

[nochi-quinn]

campaign 3 episode 53: what a load. what a load of. a load of b

we never should have given sam the power of pre-recording

matt said if they're gonna make me do a movie ad I'm doing it in the goofiest way possible

I apparently need to watch that 4sd, shortonegaming keeps streaming on tuesdays so I missed it

laura squinting at the prompter

well-oiled machine

I need someone to report on the texture of that blanket

I do NOT have the money for it but god do I want it

aabria has claimed the blanket

"oh shit I bited the robit"

"no wait I'm mad at you"

I am fully walking around looking for my crochet hook during this lsdkjfls

half fucked-up, half fuckable

oh, having to make sure an area is safe for "our kind" is. hmm.

dial it back, is what I'm getting at

starlight express

werefaun

just tendiiiing

(tiktok references nobody but me understands)

HA

(found my crochet hook)

mental whisper gossip network

"can I have advantage?" "just 'cause?"

deanna can only be heard by dogs

"I fall asleep" mood

I am begging matt to just say "houses"

"how long have you lived here?" "what a fun question"

"roll vibe check"

department store junes showed up here last december and proceeded to devour all our economic slack

"there's too much stuff in my brain, sometimes it just jumps out!" mood

imogen :(

travis: sheepishly nothing motherfucker 🔪🔪🔪

oh my god you can't just ask people why they're fauns

"alimony payment"

tilda swinton

I typed it as they were saying it lkadjfls

uwuessa

(fun story, my partner had uvulitus, but when I texted his wife about it she immediately sent back "UWUITIS?" so that was my twitter name for a while)

surely it's common knowledge that he's been under investigation

"we don't just have a druid part of the city!" why not, vasselheim does

"I don't know to be offended by that phrase"

oh. oh shit. hm. don't love that.

"I found a bag of skittles in a desk drawer and I've done nothing but eat the whole bag"

oh shit does trent's collar still work?? like I know that's small potatoes comparatively but

chetney looting like in tlou

mines? mines collapsing? ungood?

"you just hate gluten as a person?"

hmmm. unlike.

from within the palace?

BULLETS COME DOWN

"you're light an orym!"

okay I now actively dislike fcg

or at least the way sam is playing him currently

maybe I just have religious trauma idk

statue?? cursed statue???

all I'm picturing is a silver lynel

rogues are whatever

wait like zerxus' griffon?

I actually looked it up lmao, it's what the Savalirwood used to be called

she's not gonna heal you bro

oh that's a cool mini, I hate it

your badge, show him your fuckin badge!

are they within ten feet of me

"did you just roll a bunch of dice?" "no, I'm looking for more d10s" "MORE d10s?!"

jeSUS

[travis voice] there's too many diCE TO ROLL, MARISHA

oh wow, she showed him her fuckin badge

okay somebody draw the wall street bull

"and because you're fearne"

"I think frida's falling in love with fearne" "who doesn't?"

I love when travis' internal notes kick in

I think I might love umudara

a good boy!

"you made me sit between my exes and my dice are nervous!"

extra calming of extra emotions

cast valium

when you hide for three hours after going on a rampage in skyrim

I love her

"you passed everything"

can I just state how extremely HERE I am for the concept of all the old creatures and myths and mystical beasts coming back

The Magic Comes Back my beloved

"it might not be there anymore but we don't know that"

…what if what fucked up the savalirwood gets unfucked too

everything's on the table! total setting shift!

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Everybody Talks Too Much (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Mute!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence Summary: Whenever Cassandra gets angry, no one wants to deal with her. Well, no one but you, that is. Thankfully, the middle child appreciates your company... not that she'd ever admit it. Notes: Another self-indulgent fic with a selectively mute reader. This one's a lil different. Sections in italic are mostly indications that the reader is miming actions in order to communicate, though there are a few internal thoughts that are marked as such. Unlike the past two I've done, this takes place pre-relationship, so there's some mutual pining of sorts. I think that's the word.

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

Among the many servants of Castle Dimitrescu, there were a number of secret rules to be followed. Guidelines that were never written down, only spoken in hushed whispers, for specific (and dangerous) circumstances. Most could be divided into one of two categories: 1, how to reduce the chances of a Lady of the house killing someone. 2, how to make sure that if they kill someone, it will not be you. Of these rules, there was one that you knew best of all, despite never having been told it. Why? Because you have observed it time and time again. After all, the rule revolved around you. To put it plainly… If Cassandra Dimitrescu was in an awful mood, but had yet to draw blood, send in the mute.

Even now, as you rushed down a corridor, you did not know why this rule was in place. You simply knew that you had been summoned countless times by frantic maidens, to go serve their volatile mistress. Admittedly you did understand their eagerness to thrust the task upon someone else. Cassandra was often considered the deadliest of the Dimitrescu daughters, for she was the quickest to anger, the one with the deepest bloodlust, and took the longest to calm down. Personally, you disagreed, believing that it wasn’t terribly hard to know what she did and did not like. All it took was some observation. It was Daniela who scared you, seeing as she was unpredictable. She didn’t even need to be in a bad mood to want to kill you.

Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean that you saw no danger in working with Cassandra. In fact, you saw a fair bit, such as now: Right as you round the corner, a shiny object hurls past your head, embedding itself into the wall. Had you been walking ever so slightly faster… Well, you preferred not to dwell on such things, especially not when the one who threw the thing was still nearby. Based on the howling laughter and swarm of insects that moves around you, the intended target was Lady Daniela. Across the room is the markswoman herself; Cassandra stood tall, huffing in anger, staring at the spot her sister had just vacated from.

“Damn it!” She yelled, stomping her foot as if the resulting shockwave might do what her weapon had not. Oddly amused, you’re quick to remove the sickle from the wall, careful as to not damage it. It’s a tad dirty, but nothing you can’t fix with your handy pocket cloth. Cleaning as you walk, you slowly move towards your employer, not even bothering to spare her a glance. After all, you had your own rules for dealing with her.

(1: Avoid eye contact for at least one minute after an outburst.)

By the time you make it to Cassandra, the minute has come and gone, allowing you to ever-so politely look her in the eyes when you return her blade. She scoffs, then practically rips the sickle from your hands. This was your job, however, so you made no complaints. Not that you could, at least not verbally. Instead, you gave a short bow of acknowledgement. Afterwards you stood still, awaiting either instructions or a dismissal. Neither came.

“I can’t believe that little shit tried to take my favorite dagger and thought she could get away with it! Agh, the nerve of her! Can you believe this?” Cassandra snapped, turning to you as if you might agree with her. Nod, simple yet effective. “At least you know how to handle a blade. Damn Daniela is lucky she didn’t get any scratches on mine.” Then she pulls the knife in question from its place on her belt, letting it gleam in the light. A soft exhale, head tipping to the side, wow is it pretty. So is the one holding it. Your mind wanders but your gaze does not. Always polite, always ready to serve.

(2: Do not get distracted; she is no patient lover, rather a demanding boss.)

“Cassandra! What was all that noise a minute ago?” Someone called, interrupting your ‘conversation’. The speaker soon appears, being none other than Lady Bela, the most reasonable of the castle residents. Though that meant little, considering the nature of her family. As if to prove your point, Cassandra merely rolls her eyes in reply, refusing to divulge the truth. And so Bela turned her gaze to you, perking a brow. “Feeling up to talking today?” She asked, already knowing the answer. Of course, your hands are already moving, not even waiting for her to finish speaking. This is a game you know intimately.

A hand goes to your belt, moving to pull a nonexistent blade from its sheath. Raising it, moving it forward then back several times, launching it towards the wall- towards the hole left behind. Then shifting, waving your hand in front of your face while exhaling a sharp breath. Flinching. An exaggerated gulp, pretending to check if your nose is still attached, sighing in relief. Lastly, an inclination of your head towards the culprit. Cassandra.

“I was aiming for Daniela. Not that it matters, nobody got hurt,” she stated, confident. Both hands clasped together, then tapping the palms together, mimicking a heartbeat at a reasonable pace. Suddenly a stomp. The beating stops, and you hold your hands next to your ear, as if listening for signs of life. Pause. Three seconds. Worried expression, eyes wide. Finally, fast as a gunshot, the heart beats again, wildly. At this, Bela shoots her sister a look of doubt, as well as judgement. Hoping to change the subject, Cassandra looks to you. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Rubbing your chin, thinking. Squinting for effect. Ah, got it! Both hands go to your sides, lifting the imaginary hem of a dress you aren’t wearing. Waltzing forward, yet in place, with the poise expected of a professional maid. Then the focus shifts to your face. Fear. A silent scream, a hand at your forehead, feeling like you… might… faint. Falling backwards, making a step at the very last second to prevent a real collapse. End scene.

“Someone was scared?” Bela asked, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of herself. When you nod, she does as well, considering the implications. “Why would they send you?”

“I hardly care why, I just want to know who so I can kick their ass,” Cassandra interjects, taking a step closer to you. All you do in response is shrug. Unsurprisingly this is not enough to please her, and before you know it she’s wrapped a hand around your throat. “Give. Me. A. Name. Now.” A perked brow. Thoughts practically telegraphed. ‘What do you expect?’ Opening your mouth, slightly, then wide, back to almost closed. No sound comes out. Obviously. It’s not like you wanted to break your own rule, but in this case you had no choice.

(3: Give her whatever she wants, consequences be damned.)

Luckily for you, Bela acts as a foil to Cassandra, there to smooth the seas. Moving behind you, she reaches into your back pocket and retrieves the notepad you keep there. Then she’s handing it to you while making eye contact with her sister. Cassandra promptly releases you, though she’s clearly not pleased, going so far as to push you away in one last act of anger. Internally you roll your eyes. On the outside, however, you quickly write down everything you know… which isn’t much.

“I don’t remember who it was. A lot of people have asked. This happens a lot.” Then you hand the paper to Bela, who soon looks back up at you in confusion. Too antsy to wait for her own turn, Cassandra yoinks the notepad from her sister’s hands, reading it over several times before reacting.

“What the fuck? Why would they send you to me because somebody pissed their pants in fear? I’m going to kill someone. Ugh, I don’t- this doesn’t make any goddamn sense,” Cassandra ranted, pacing back and forth, looking like she wanted to destroy something immediately. To your surprise, Bela doesn’t look the slightest bit concerned. If anything, she looks amused, and smiles when the two of you make eye contact. Something tells you that she knows something that you don’t. Before you can react, she quietly retrieves your notepad and returns it to you. Then she pauses, thinking, eying you with curiosity.

“Why don’t you go for now? See if anyone thanks you for stepping in, hmm?” She suggested, tone implying that this was absolutely about something else entirely. Still, you don’t care to disobey, and so you bid the two of them farewell with a deep bow. As you leave, you can almost make out part of what they say next. But you’re certain that you must have heard incorrectly. “Showing your favoritism a little too much, sister? If even the servants can see it-” the rest of the sentence is cut off by angry muttering from Cassandra. After that you’re too far away to hear anymore. What a strange day...

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

“Hey, you know where Lady Cassandra’s room is, right?” Ygritte asked, casually, definitely not having just been told by someone else that you were the solution to her problem. Pretending that you were unaware of this, you give her a smile and a nod. Later, behind her back, you will mentally add her to your list of people to watch out for. Maybe even decide to refuse to share your biscuits with her. In the meantime, you pretend that you don’t mind whatever task she’s about to dump on you. “Can you bring these books to her? I really have to get back to the kitchen soon, and that’s in the opposite direction…”

Technically true. Something told you that the real problem was that Cassandra had been extra loud the past few days. Regardless, you accept the books from her, leaving before she even finishes thanking you. Why do people do this? I don’t get it, you think. It’s like they think I’m immune to her rage. If that were true, I’d gladly throw myself between her and others. But no, that’s not the case. Hmmph, if only they saw my scars. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you keep walking, subconsciously rubbing the spot on your arm where Cassandra had cut you. Well, the worst spot. Being pain tolerant had made her take interest in you, during your first few weeks, but it’s what allowed you to learn her rules. Your rules, really.

Knock. Knock. A pause… three more, much softer. The door swings open, revealing your Lady, whose eyes widen at the sight of you. Tipping your hat (which you are not wearing), you greet her, forcing another smile. Then you present the books, free hand gesturing with a spiral motion towards them. She doesn’t respond. No, wait, she glances at the door hinges, considering closing the door in your face. Now both of you are staring at each other, daring the other to move.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she finally said. There’s a gruffness to her voice that you hadn’t expected. It’s unlike her usual tone, less angry, more tired. Were those bags under her eyes?... No, just smudged makeup. “Don’t just stand there- tell me why you’re here.” Again, you gesture to the books, extending your hands further towards her. This time she takes a half-step backwards to avoid you. Peculiar. “Someone else was supposed to bring them, dipshit. Fucking hell, why can’t anyone around here do their damn jobs?” At last, she takes the books from you, carrying them deeper into your room. Though she does not close the door, you assume that your job is done. Or maybe you simply do not wish to deal with a Cassandra who’s frustrated by your specific presence. Either way, it breaks one of your rules, though you do not remember until it is too late.

(4: Do not leave until dismissed by a member of the family.)

“Where the hell are you going?” The sound of buzzing flies, a blur of motion around you, then the form of Cassandra solidifying in front of you. One of her hands is raised, pressing against the center of your chest. She pushes you, hard, making you stumble backwards into her room. Next thing you know you’ve crashed onto her floor. A tad stunned, you bring a hand up to hold your head, blinking rapidly for a few seconds. There’s the sound of a door closing, and then someone’s trying to help you stand. “I didn’t say you could leave yet. Now c’mon, I’ve got stuff for you to do.” Then she’s guiding you to her bed, making you sit down on the end. Panicked thoughts race through your mind one after another. What exactly was she intending? Thankfully you don’t have to wait long to find out. “Read through these, and-” a pause, like she hadn’t known what she was going to say until she was already speaking- “take notes. Make a summary of the bookmarked sections, or whatever.” Handing you a couple books (neither of which being ones you had just brought to her), she sits on the other side of the bed, refusing to look at you. She does, however, say one last thing, voice barely above a whisper. “Just stay for a while, okay?”

Inside your head, you make a mental note to amend your list of rules.

(4.b: Do not leave until dismissed by a member of the family. If Cassandra asks you to stay, you stay, no matter what. It’s worth it.)

[r0-boat]

Ayo it's Dom!Reader Anon again! I hope you're doing alright, I saw that some minors were giving you trouble. I hope they have left you alone by now!! Make sure to block them if they don't leave you alone. It's your blog, you make the rules!! Also glad to see another person identify as Demi! (Though I say bi for convenience sake, its heavily more towards demi.) I'm glad people are supporting you! You deserve it!! Anyway, I wrote a lil thing! I figured since Kitsune and I are sick, some sick!Z was in order. its not a lot, but i still wanted to write something. I hope you enjoy! --- Twinging in pain, you felt yourself slowly becoming more conscious by the second, sleep slowly leaving your body. Your mind however, seemed all too eager to remain in a hazy state. Groaning, you lifted your head from the ground. You had fallen asleep outside again, having spent time with some wild pokemon across the island the day before, and slept underneath a tree. This wasn't unusual, and was something you did often, despite some of your partner pokemon's protests. What wasn't usual, was the fatigue that plagued your body, along with the headache and sore throat. "Are you fucking kidding me..." you rasped, slowly bringing your hand up to rub your throat. Your limbs felt like lead, and your head felt like it was full of stuffing on top of the pain. Great. Just great. "Now, of all days, I get sick. Ugh..." you mumbled. Not even the almighty Z was immune to illness, it seemed. With a sigh, you pulled back into your mind, searching for the faint connection you shared with Mew. Finding it, you weakly pulled at the mental rope connecting you both. After doing so, you leaned back onto the ground with a hiss and closed your eyes. "I can summon legendary pokemon with just a flick of my wrist, I can make the champions tremble in their boots. I can collapse a government with only a whisper... And yet, here I am. This has got to the flu, or something. Fuck." you grumbled. 'Wow! You look awful.' you heard a familiar voice echo in your mind. You went to fake a laugh, but a cough came out instead. Sighing, you didn't even bother to look over at Mew, opting to cover your face with your arm. "Gee, you sure know how to make someone feel special." you mumbled under your breath, beginning to shiver. When had it gotten so cold? You felt a twinge of sympathy from your friend. 'Here, let me help.' You heard Mew whisper. Before you could question what they meant, you felt the familiar warmth of Mew's power's envelope you, and you felt the ground beneath you go soft. Opening your eyes, you found Mew had placed you in your bed in a private den you had on the island. One you hardly used. "What-" you began, but Mew cut you off. 'Stay here, I'll go grab some assistance.' Mew said quickly, before popping out of the room. With a sigh of defeat, you quickly got out of your normal attire, putting on a set you had stashed in a drawer nearby. After changing, you reluctantly crawled back into the bed, bundling up underneath the covers. God, you felt awful. The tremors in your body almost seemed to get worse from what little bit you had moved, and your throat felt incredibly dry. If you were to sip some water, you feared how painful it would be. After shivering in your bed for a few minutes, you heard the sound of paws knocking on the door to the room. Immediately after, the door swung open, and in came a small crowd of worried pokemon. You lifted your head slightly, watching them all rush into the room. "What the- guys. I'm sick, not dying." you mumbled, though the bark like coughing fit that followed did little to ease the small groups worries. A Blissey stood by the side of your bed, and a Slyveon jumped up with your Zorua. The Blissey immediately began taking your temperature, while the white Zorua snuggled up close. The Slyveon meanwhile, wrapped a few of its feelers around one of your arms, sending a calm aura around you. 'Hm. That's not good.' You heard Mew mumbled, floating around the Blissey. You raised a brow, glancing tiredly

at the flying pokemon. '101 degrees.' Ah. That explained it. Figures you have a fever. With a heavy sigh, you shifted slightly in your bed. "Could you bring me one of my laptops?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Mew shook their head. 'No, you are not working while-' they began, but you held up a hand, silencing them. "No, I know. But I need to cancel an online meeting between myself and Lance that was supposed to happen this evening." you said with a huff. Mew stared at you for a few moments, before reluctantly giving in. You weren't wrong, after all. Z never missed appointments, unless it was urgent. If you didn't show up, and didn't give a response for a while, it would probably raise hell. Lance wasn't a very patient man, and if he believed something happened to you, it would eventually attract the attention of the other mob bosses as well. You didn't need that attention for something so useless as a small bout of sickness. Not to mention, you had appearances to keep up. You were untouchable, untraceable, an unknown force of nature. No one needed to know you were ill. Mew had popped away to find a laptop, bringing one back with them after a few moments. Slowly, they levitated the laptop onto your lap. "Thanks." You murmured, adjusting to get comfortable with the pokemon around you. Cracking your knuckles, you began to get to work. Opening one of your special messaging apps, you hovered over Lance's contact, and began typing a simple message. Something urgent had come up, and telling him you were willing to reschedule. After sending in the message, you closed your laptop, and sat it aside. Snuggling back into bed with pokemon cuddling close, and several others laying around the room, you felt your eyes get heavy. "Lemme know when... I need to take medicine..." you rasped out towards Mew, before promptly falling unconscious. Mew only sighed, floating above you with worry. 'I told them they work themselves too much...' ----- Lance stared at the screen, his lips in a thin line. 'Today's meeting will have to be called off. Something urgent came up, and I will be unable to attend. If you still wish to go over this deal we had made, feel free to send available times for a new meeting. -Z.' It was odd. Z never missed appointments, preferring to attend to them on the dot, and hardly ever moved or canceled unless absolutely necessary. Hell, he knows of only one other instance where you had canceled a meeting, but that had been early on in your career, before he had ever even met you. Leaning back in his chair, he re-read the message. Something was wrong. Besides, not to sound egotistical of himself, but what could have been so important, you couldn't make a meeting? Just the thought caused his stomach to twist in knots. It had to be something big. Tapping his fingers anxiously on his desk, Lance re-read the message you had sent. Nervously, he glanced back at an app he hardly used, one to message other champions across the globe. He hardly used it, only keeping an eye on it for information for official business, underground business, and information regarding Z. At the moment, it appeared like Leon was discussing something with Diantha, something about a potential new trading group that's been rising across the globe. He doubted that was what you had canceled for. Fingers twitching, he debated with himself. Should he message the others? After all, it wasn't any of his business what you did, or why you called the meeting off. But still, the fact you still canceled was kinda a big deal. You didn't just do that. After mulling over it a few more minutes, Lance sighed, began typing. 'Hey, have any of you talked with Z today?' he asked the group. There was a moment of silence, a few people obviously typing. 'Nope. Was planning on reaching out for something later in the week tho. Don't ask what for.' Leon responded. 'Nope! I haven't done business with them in over a month.' Said Diantha. 'No, why are you asking?' N asked. Lance sighed. 'It's probably

nothing, but they canceled a meeting with me. They don't normally do that, so I was curious if it involved any of you.' He stated, debating if letting them know this was a good idea. 'Wait, really? Seriously? Z canceled a meeting?' Leon immediately asked, now curious. 'Z canceled a meeting? Now I'm curious.' Cynthia piped up, having idly watched the conversation. 'What did you do? Why did they cancel? Are they alright??' Steven suddenly chimed in. Lance shook his head. He just knew some of the others would potentially get upset. 'I don't know. They just canceled out of nowhere, saying something urgent came up. That's why I'm asking you all if any of you had anything to do with it.' Lance responded, not happy at the seemingly accusing tone Steven's messages had. 'What was your meeting for?' N asked. Lance blinked. 'Do you really expect an answer?' Lance shot back. 'No. Fair enough. If you did anything though, I swear-' N responded, before going off on a tangent, which Lance decided to ignore. The Unova Champion's not so secret obsession with you wasn't helping the situation. Lance sat back in his chair once more. It seemed no one had heard from Z, besides possibly Kukui, who had not responded. However, the man was also a pokemon professor, and worked odd hours of the day outside underground work. It wasn't exactly suspicious that he wasn't there. So what could it be then? --- Back in your private room, you sneezed. Rolling onto your back, you groaned. 'You okay?' You heard Mew pipe up from beside you. Sighing, you narrowed your eyes at the ceiling. "I don't know why, but I can't help but feel like I'm about to be annoyed by something soon." Mew shook their head. Hopefully you were wrong.

Damn z really can't catch a break

they can be this really cool person that leaves no Trace

but they're also a really overworked individual that never takes breaks or rarely vacations. Especially when the international police might be on their tail every step of the way.

[incarnateirony]

Someone dropped this in my submission box instead of ask box, “So I’m trying to genuinely understand what you’re saying is you understand corporate execs at the CW had a hand in the ending of supernatural? I’m not judging not attacking I swear I’m just trying to make sense of it because I had no idea about any of this up till now because I had stayed out of online fandom because well for years it felt big but anyways am I getting this right?”

---

The CW has a hand in everything. Here’s how this generally works.

The authors have ~relative~ freedom on a show. That is to say, the execs really don’t sit there splitting the nuances of the storytelling the fandom is receiving. They generally don’t even identify major markers that any of us would know (see: not even recognizing what the Roadhouse is.) -- we all knew the original ending had TFW at the Roadhouse as framed and spoiled by 15.04 among other details, and the whole “heaven/mental bar” theme from DSOTM, Nihilism, and Last Call all amplified this as an inevitability--but when you ask about “hey, is there a bar in heaven?” and get a “no?” that tells you they don’t even understand *ancient* plot beats like the Roadhouse, much less the ramifications of what it’s supposed to entail. Oh look at that, the roadhouse was just in fucking heaven like we said, but you identified it as a “cabin” because of filming locations and your basic notes.

Corporate has very basic compliance demands. They expect X, Y, and Z. What X Y and Z are across different shows vary depending on their markets. As long as the authors operate within X Y and Z, the corporate face essentially works off of synopsis of pitches and ideas.

This is also why I’ve talked about queer writing history and people being careful what they call queerbait: you don’t know what their X Y and Z are. The WB for example does not really CARE about representation. I’ve blogged about this often. We’re dollar signs. If they can package a new product to market it explicitly as LGBTQ fare, then they’ll turn you into a revenue machine by feeding you that particular fodder. When it comes to legacy shows--which is funny, because when the suit went off in my DM about this, they used the exact same phrasing as me--they’re going to play it safe, especially if they don’t truly understand the returns from the demographics they’re observing.

The space between X Y and Z is where the authors have liberty to push and, the longer and harder they push, the louder the content is allowed to get.

Here! I’ll even quote them directly, somewhat truncated because they ranted for fucking PARAGRAPHS.

“In reference to the media landscape, on a corporate level we do not distinguish fandoms. [...] That said, legacy shows such at Arrow, Supernatural, and even Flash are relics and we never really endeavored to reinvent the wheel on a corporate level, we are more focused on shows that are newer and still in our pipeline to premiere. [...] As for social media like all businesses and brands the engagement itself is key, but the content of the engagement is mostly irrelevant, though every show does have certain keywords that are often used in conjunction with harsher interactions blacklisted.”

The funny part is, they thought they were preaching to me like this was new information, but those of you that have been around my blog will PROBABLY RECOGNIZE this is almost VERBATIM exactly what I have told everybody over the years. Enough I half-suspect some trolls out there will think i wrote it myself and made it up and lob that accusation around. But there’s about 50 people that watched this conversation as it unfolded.

If you guys get mad? You’re still giving them PR. If you engage the content? You’re giving them PR. If you guys get bitchy ENOUGH? They completely blacklist a certain kind of engagement. I have literally been telling you all of this for years.

They don’t care who you are or what you want, just if you’re watching and what they at-best roughly estimate your demographic as desiring. So for example, Supernatural reading as a largely non-urban white demographic in its viewership, especially with a heavier lean in red states than most shows on the network, they presume to cater to what they perceive that demographic wants, rather than individualizing the understanding of the content, because they do not distinguish the shows or fandoms. “Oh, heavier republican white non-urban demographic” is where their understanding ends at, which is why they’re going to be utterly mystified why even my trump-voting republican neighbor from rural Alabama looked at the end result and went “what the fuck?” -- they weren’t expecting a big gay confession, but they were expecting a different sort of final tone.

Of course they’re never going to take that on for themselves and go “wow, we’re giant blazing dumbasses that understand nothing about the show!” -- they’ll, for example, claim they don’t leave network notes, when they’re still the ones passing material along about demographics and expectations etc etc. Their notes are *basic*. They do not leave *extensive* notes. Because extensive notes require extensive understanding of the content.

So for example: Berens spent since S9 slowly gaying up our show. Since they do not pay attention to the fine details of the story contents (lol no bar in heaven lolololol just a cabin lololol), he never got a note to *stop*. But it was not within the original structure plans and didn’t technically fit the demographic notes. The show continued to get aggressively gayed up, and Berens never really signed a note like “hey, I’m gaying it the fuck up” so even fandom reporters were going “THERE’S NO INTENT THERE!!!!!” -- berens operated in his very basic X, Y, Z landmarks to expand content within a story the suits literally do not pay the fuck attention to.

Corporate’s understanding is basic: dudes stabbing monsters and brothers against the world. Play in that box and keep these demographic notes in mind. You’re good.

They’ll NEVER mention blacklisting issues directly beyond what they admitted in the above quote but I DO remind you I have ranted ON AND ON AND ON how much Destiel fandom shot themselves in the goddamn foot with a fucking bazooka with the Chad Kennedy incident years ago. Others like Emily handled it intelligently to inform the *authors*. No, the network will never tell you if they blacklisted Destiel, but I informed you pretty heavily years ago that odds are, yeah, they probably fucking blacklisted Destiel.

Add in paying attention to the things Berens himself liked (if you don’t believe, scroll to Nov 5 on his tl)

Like, listen. berens knows exactly what he did and did the best he could do in the situations that were set up for him. And, frankly, I had been talking about this season as a writer room rebellion all year--just like corporate DID leave them a note in S11 that they couldn’t kill god. But if they couldn’t kill him or cage him, they would find another way. In 17 we said goodbye to Meredith and, in a way, to a MAJOR portion of Dean’s substantial story. In 18, we said goodbye to Bobo, and frankly all the parts that grew into queer Castiel that came with it. 19 and 20 became residual notes of hitting expected plot beats on the head on a rhythm, tying off godforces, and then just sliding into the Dabb subversion of them having learned to grieve, let go, and process emotions-- just the surrounding delivery left the feeling of more ~wanting~ on that front which is understandable.

But these are the kind of things people don’t even ~think~ about. This is WHY I’ve turned myself into a bulletshield protecting Berens’ work for YEARS while people yelled about queerbait not understanding the years of process he used in his unbabysat space to make something unable to dodge.

More posts he liked:

This isn’t a solo story. At the same SDCC he leaned over to my friend and grinned, whispering, “I hope you like what I did this year.” -- he knew. He knew and he fought his ass off but there was an end of the line.

That end of the line having an extra note or two to drop in the finale--never a big gay confirmation, just a “everyone’s there together, assume what you want” --is its own thing. As it is, Jensen even remarked how much of his dialogue got cut in final draft out of 18, and if the brazil dubbing footage leak tells me anything, they got the raw version before it was cut. And before they ADR’ed Dean’s sniffling collapsed against the wall. They had everything right, beyond the fact that there was supposed to be more dialogue from Dean along the lines of, “You can’t go”, or “you can’t leave” (difficult to determine what a ESL person seeing an english draft then yelling in portuguese then translated back to english meant, specifically, but something in that ballpark -- just like “don’t do this” came as “no it’s not” through the translation pipeline), and other similar minor bartering about this. And we’re not even gonna get into Dean’s hilariously loudly ADRed sniffling on the wall. Here, Jensen, breathe IMMEDIATELY into this microphone.

But they’re never going to tell you this. Of course they’re not. 

Summarily, corporate had half a year of having to re-manage scheduling everybody’s flights and planners during covid rewrites to stare directly into the huge gay abyss and fuck things up. 

It’s all about the unmonitored space vs the monitored space. Of COURSE they’re never going to fucking tell you these things. 

FRANKLY I am DYING to see the Portuguese dub of the show to see what the fuck they do with it, all things considered. I’m pretty sure the suit in my inbox that’s trying to vagueblog around things sideways now never accounted for the fact that there’s copies of the raw available in some parts of the world. I’m... pretty sure they thought they were my only leak source in fact. 

Either way--it’s not that corporate micromanages and passes constant notes. It’s that they gloss over vague summaries and plans, drop a few base expectations and performance boxes. It’s up to the authors how to kick up dust inside those boxes. 

[jackdevil4311]

"Stay Away" [Bucky Barnes Fluff + Comfort]

Warning: Panic attacks, Mental breakdowns, Mentions of child abuse, Threats, Comfort, Fluff, mentions of bad past relationships, harsh language, knives

Pairing: Bucky X Reader, Bucky X You

It was about 5 am when I got the call. My phone vibrated from the side of the floor, right beside my head. I turn to it and I'm not that surprised to see who it is, a small smile on my face ready to hear the world her brain thought up, ready to hear her all excited and giddy to help me escape from my nightmares.

"h-hey bucky..." I heard her stutter out, her voice shaky and strained. I sat up in an instant. Was she in danger? Was she hurt? What was going on?

"Hey doll." I greeted in a confused voice.

She cleared her throat. "Why do you love me?"

I was confused. What did she mean? She was amazing! Her eyes, her hair, her lips she was just WOW! Why was she asking?

"why do you love me? I'm so manipulative and toxic and just not a good person. I literally break so many hearts so why... Why Bucky?"

"Because your amazing."

"because I'm amazing? Bucky that is the dumbest shit I've ever heard! Me!? Amazing!? Are fucking blind!? You look over all of this shit and you just think I'm amazing!? That is the dumbest shit I've ever heard! I'm a monster Bucky! A monster! Why don't you think like everyone else!?" Her voice breaks at the end and she begins to sob before she hangs up the phone.

I sit with it pressed against my ear. I sit there for what seemed like hours but I know where a few minutes, I felt tears fall down my face as I try to breath. I feel my phone vibrate again and I pull it from my face to look at the message, hoping to receive a message from her. No. From her apartment neighbor and close friend.

"Hey, Y/n just came and gave me her phone, do you know what happened?"

"No, she just called me and didn't say much, I'm heading over though"

"alight, be safe, you know how dangerous she can be in this state and it seems pretty bad this time"

"alight, be there soon"

••••••••••••••••

I arrive at her door, her apartment door door. I gulp lightly before I slide in the key card. I see the light turn green (since the beeping scared her, she removed it) and entered the apartment quietly. I should've knocked, atleast I avoided the knife getting thrown at my head.

I turn to see her standing in one of my shirts, dark blue. Her eyes focused on me, another knife in her hand aimed at my head.

"Get out!" She shouts, her voice cracking, making me want to run to her and scoop her up in my arms. If I did that how ever I would be attacked and she would fight me through it every way.

"Doll, it's me, I'm not her, okay?" I state lightly, stepping inside and shutting the door behind me. I never remove my eyes from her.

Though the room dim, I can sure her eyes red and puffy with tears still streaming down her face and she was not in that defensive of a position she seemed more broken and afraid if anything.

"Get out of here!"

I take a few steps forward but staying on the other side of the counter.

"Out!" The knife still pointed at me as I finally am across from her.

"No. No means no. You know that. When we first got into this, what did we say? What did we promise?" I still look into her eyes.

"Stay away." It was so soft, I almost didn't hear it.

She stands there, still as a statue, I gently move the knife away from my face until her wrist hits the counter.

"what did we promise?" I ask again.

She gulps before letting go of the knife.

"Doll?" I ask as tears come to my eyes once again, I suck in my bottom lip and bit on it as a tear falls. I push my eye brows up.

"We promised that we wouldn't-" she choked before she gently walked over to me holding back her sobs. She had her eyes glued to the ground. "we promised that we wouldn't push eachother away when we went through things like this."

I nodded before opening my arms, letting my lip out of my mouth and clenching my jaw, hoping she would let me hold her.

She scurried into them and collapsed as I wrapped my arms around her, both of us falling to the floor. I rub her back and she buried her face in my chest. Her sobs echoing throughout her apartment.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry." She let out trying wipe her tears away.

I gently grab her wrists. "Listen to me, you have nothing to apologize for. Alight, she hurt you, they all hurt you, but it's over now okay?"

She nodded.

"okay! So you know what we're gonna do now?" I asked with a small smile. She shook her head no. "we're gonna make some smoothies alright?"

A small smile carved itself on her lips with a nod to an unheard beat.

"alright, let's get the ingredients and then let's head to bed okay?"

"alright." She agreed lightly.

••••••••••••••••

I sat above her, the cover up to her chin her eyes fluttering close but reopening every few seconds, fighting sleep. A smile grew on my lips.

"can you sing to me Plum?" She asked lightly in a sleepy voice.

"well, I don't know what to sing you. The songs I remember wouldn't be very good for you at the moment."

"c'mon! Please!"

"alright, alright, any suggestions?"

"hmmm... Daddy Issues by the neighborhood?" She rebound with a smirk.

"You always want that one!" I giggled.

"pleeaassseeeee!" She begged, poking out her bottom lip. "Please Plum Bucket?"

I sigh and reach for the guitar far in her room.

I hear a 'yes!' from her and giggle again.

"alright, I'm gonna be honest, I don't remember all of the song, so do you mind a little clip?" She nodded before getting comfy once more. I sit next to her and begin to tune it lightly and feel her lay her head on my hip. "You still awake?" She nods. "Alright, here we go."

"It's crazy what you'd do for a friend."

"Go ahead and cry little girl,

No body does it like you do.

I know how much it matters to you,

I know that you got daddy issues.

And if you were my little girl,

I'd do whatever I could do,

I'd run away and hide with you,

I know that you've got daddy issues, and I do too."

[robinofgothamcity]

♡ lyric inspiration: “and I thought my heart was attached for all the sunlight of our past but she's so sweet, she's so pretty. does she mean you forgot about me?”

♡ pairing: timothy thatcher x fem! reader

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / also, i do take character suggestions for WWE/NXT/UK wrestlers now! remember only character suggestions! not full on reqs. 

and do you tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen? an eternal love bullshit you know you'll never mean.

you looked to Marcel and sighed, putting your head on your arms and looking at the way he was with his new girlfriend. it had been months that you and him were no longer but a part of your heart still hadn’t healed itself from the break up and it wasn’t exactly news to anyone. 

the cause of breakup was that Marcel wanted to be ‘free’. you had no idea what that meant and for the longest time, your relationship with the rest of Imperium had taken a strain because of it but when Marcel’s endeavors finally got back to you, thank Alex for that, you weren’t exactly surprised. 

“woah,” you heard Candice whisper to herself as you finally looked up to see what she was talking about. you stared at a few people, most notably someone you hadn’t expected to see, “is that Timothy Thatcher?” you asked her, surprised at seeing him. 

she nodded, “I had no idea he signed here,” you told her, as the manager of the performance center showed him around. Candice shrugged, “me either but hey, it’s nice to see him finally make his way here,” she admitted as you nodded in agreement. 

you knew of Timothy because of Marcel. the two were close because of their days back in wXw and the independent scene. although you hadn’t met him personally, you knew everyone on Marcel’s faction was super close to him. 

“i’m going to go buy a Red Bull, want anything?” 

“a water!” 

you nodded, grabbing your wallet and making your way to the vending machine not too far from where catering was at. you kicked the small scrap piece of paper that was on the floor as you overheard the conversation was having with his girlfriend. 

a part of you wanted to just go over there and scream at him for breaking your heart and not giving you closure on the relationship but you knew it was no use. you would gain nothing from it and all it would do would make you look like the crazy ex girlfriend. 

“hey! where ya sitting?” you heard Johnny ask you from across the hall. you pointed to catering, “with your wife! i’ll meet you there in a sec!” you screamed back as you put in your money for the energy drink. 

being that your mind was still preoccupied with your previous thoughts, you hadn’t realized that you still hadn’t punched in the button for your drink until you heard someone clear their throat, “oh, i’m sorry! i didn’t realize i was keeping the line up,” you stated apologetically. you quickly put in the money for Candice’s water and snatched it from the bottom.

you finally looked up and smiled softly, “sorry again,” you whispered as you realized that it was Timothy who was waiting, “oh, you’re Timothy Thatcher, right?” you asked a bit excitedly. he nodded, “big fan! loved watching your matches in wXw,” you added on. 

Tim smiled and shook your hand, “likewise, you’re a great performer,” he replied, as he saw the way your eyes lit up as you continued to talk to him and he couldn’t deny the fact that he actually noticed he was trying to keep the conversation alive, “wow, so, do you think you’ll be ready for next weeks taping?” you asked. 

“possibly. a few of the trainers might keep me working out until the end of the month until they find me someone to feud with,” you nodded understandingly, “ahh, that sucks, I expected you to be on quicker than that but I have to go before the trainers kill me for being late,” you said, giving him a small wave before jogging away. 

not long after, Alex, who had saw the entire interaction walked up to him, “you friends with ( your name )?” he asked, genuinely curious. Tim didn’t exactly reply and only shrugged, “well if you are, she’s super nice,” Alex murmured, “and could use someone to actually get over what Marcel said,” he said it so quietly that Tim couldn’t exactly figure out what he had said. 

Alex thought of you as a sister and absolutely loathed what Marcel did to you. he thought it was super ridiculous of Marcel to not be up front about his feelings and just leave you hanging with no explanation to his actions. he could see the way the heartbreak was still affecting you till this day and wanted nothing more than to yell at him for bringing his new girlfriend around. 

“wait, what?” Tim asked, trying to get Alex to repeat himself, “no, it’s nothing,” he quickly said, “I just said she’s super nice and she’s kind of like a sister to me.” 

Tim didn’t bother to press the question as he heard commotion coming from the cafeteria area. the two of them peeked their heads in to see you chugging your Red Bull back as you quickly grabbed your things, “fuck, I didn’t think I was on tonight,” you screamed as Candice followed behind you. 

you booked it out the door as you didn’t pay Tim or Alex any attention. they saw the panic on your face, along with Candice’s as the both of you ran into the locker room, “one day Hunter is gonna kill her for that,” Alex laughed as they heard the panic screams from the locker room. 

the two of them sat inside of catering as you were quick to put on your gear and head to makeup. your match with Candince wasn’t exactly planned but Hunter had told you to get ready in case it did happen but time had slipped when you were speaking with Tim and now you had twenty minutes to get ready. 

by the time you and Candice finished, you had no less than a minute before your call time. you tried to dry your face as quick as possible but time was no longer on your side as you heard ‘Requiem in D Minor′ play through the speakers. your theme was one that followed you through the indies as you thought it always made a statement when it played. 

“interesting theme,” Tim told Alex as he nodded. your gear consisted of all black attire along with darkened makeup to match it. your personality however didn’t match your aesthetic at all. your personality was a lot more happy-go-lucky outside the ring. 

“yeah she picked it years ago and I guess it kind of stuck,” he explained as they watched you walk on the ramp, staring at the fans with a mocking smug look on your face, “ask Indi on her last with her and she’ll explain why the theme gives her nightmares till this day,” he joked. 

the two of them watched you slide into the ring with ease before Candice’s theme went off on the speakers next. you were leaning against the ropes, not bothered by the insults Candice was throwing at you as the ring announcer called the match to start. 

you quickly grabbed Candice by her shoulders and threw her over yours as she slammed onto the ring with a loud thud. Tim was shocked to see the way you picked her up without hesitation. it looked like it was no sweat off your back as you followed up your move with a flip off the top rope. 

Tim could see the way you were clearly getting the upper hand in the match. it was another twenty minutes of back and fourth until you climbed up on the top rope again and did a double flip in the air before grabbing Candice’s leg and tapping her out. 

your theme blared through the speakers as you swiftly moved out of the ring and walked back slowly to the back. you blew the crowed a menacing kiss before you were fully out of view and collapsed onto a chair to catch your breath. 

“can you please go easy next time,” Candice groaned as she sat next to you. you laughed, smacking her shoulder lightly, “relax, this is just payback for what you did last week to me,” you retorted as you saw Alex walk towards you, “what do you want, Wolfe?” you said with a shaky breath.

he laughed, sitting next to you, “have you met Tim?” he asked, knowing the obvious answer. “met him earlier at the vending machine,” you replied, waving at him again. Tim did the same as Alex smirked to himself, a bright idea popping into his head. 

“we should all catch dinner tonight,” you stared at Alex in question, “who is all?” you asked, making sure ‘all’ didn’t include Marcel, “you, me, Tim, Candice, and if Johnny wants to come along,” he replied. you sighed in relief, “i’m down if everyone else is,” you said. 

Tim and Candice agreed as you and Candice left it to Alex to figure out where to catch dinner. you showered as quickly as possible as Alex had sent you twenty different messages to hurry up before everything got booked up for the late night reservations. 

all you put on was leggings and a random wrestling t-shirt they had lying around for all of you to wear. although you hadn’t noticed what the shirt was, Alex couldn’t help but laugh seeing that it was one of Walter’s t-shirts. 

you met up with Alex, Candice, Johnny, and Tim at the front entrance of Full Sail. a few steps away was Marcel and his girlfriend talking to Fabian. you had no idea if Alex had even spoken to them but as soon as you arrived, all of you jumped into Alex’s car. 

“so, what made you want to come over here and wrestle?” Candice asked Tim as the three of you were squished in the back, “figured it was time to head back home,” he said. you weren’t exactly paying attention to the conversation but Tim for whatever reason couldn’t help but look at you every once in a while. 

Alex noticed it immediately and mentally high-fived himself. he knew Tim long enough to know when he was interested in someone and he was able to tell that he was slightly taking an interest with you. he saw the subtle looks he was giving you and knew that if he played his cards right, the two of you could end up dating. 

the restaurant Alex picked wasn’t far from Full Sail. it was in walking distance of the arena which you found odd that all of you had to pack into the car when you could’ve easily walked it there. 

the hostess quickly sat all of you when you arrived and Alex made sure to sit you on the edge of the table with Tim. he felt a bit bad knowing he was plotting you to get with his friend but he knew it would help you with getting over Marcel for once and knew that Tim would not do what Marcel did if you two ended up dating. 

throughout the dinner, all of you stuffed your faces with Greek food and talked for what felt like hours when in reality it was just an hour and a half. the conversation never died out, especially when it was just you and Tim talking. you found it a bit funny that the two of you hit it off so easily that it felt like you had known him for years. 

+

a few weeks passed as you remained by Tim and Alex’s side. within that time, you hadn’t realized that you were hardly thinking about Marcel and his girlfriend. your time was spent either training, going out with the small group all of you formed, or just texting Tim when you were able. 

you had given Tim your number the night all of you went out. Alex had told you that it was odd to see Tim actually engage in a conversation with someone. he wasn’t exactly the most extroverted person in the world and tried to keep his friend group tight but with you, it was just a different story as he put it. 

Tim had finally made his appearance on TV and considering his appearance caused everyone in the crowd to go crazy when he finally stepped onto the ring, all of you wanted to go and celebrate it. 

you also had a match previous to Tim’s segment and you had once again hadn’t realized what shirt you grabbed from the rack when you picked it. however, Alex did recognize it. it happened to be Tim’s. they were shirts that they had just put on the shops website. 

“nice shirt,” Tim joked as he pointed it out. you looked down and laughed as you read the grey colored t-shirt, “shut up, I didn’t even realize it,” you retorted as you sensed your phone going off. you saw that it was Alex texting you. 

you quickly read the message and immediately rolled your eyes, “he dropped out of dinner. I guess Imperium had segments to do after the taping,” you informed him, “Johnny and Candice couldn’t make it because Johnny injured himself tonight and she wanted to make sure he was okay.” 

“so I guess it’s just the two of us,” Tim replied. you nodded as the two of you had just decided it was best to catch dinner at your place instead of making the drive into downtown Orlando, “what are you making me?” he asked as the two of you walked inside. 

you thought for a moment, “ever try peanut butter stir fry? it sounds gross in theory but i’m telling you, it’s amazing when you actually try it,” you explained, putting all the ingredients on the counter, “count me in, I’ll help you with it,” Tim said. 

you had put on music in the background as you and Tim got to cooking. the meal took no more than fifteen minutes to cook before you piled up your plates together and sat down on your couch and dug into it. 

“so, have you met anyone?” you asked Tim, wiggling your eyebrows. he thought for a moment before laughing, “are you talking as in a girlfriend?” he asked. you nodded, “no, I don’t really date, plus, I sort of like someone already,” you were surprised at his confession while also a little saddened. 

a part of you had started to like Tim as he was the one who mended that piece of your heart that Marcel broke. Tim could see that you were taken back by the answer and chuckled. 

“it’s adorable that you haven’t figured it out yet,” he said, making you now confused, “do I know them?” you asked innocently. he rolled his eyes and got closer to your face, “you’re adorable, you know that?” he whispered before placing a quick kiss on your lips. 

all you tasted was the peanut butter on his lips when you immediately kissed back. the plates were set on the small coffee as he brought you in closer as you laid on top of him and situated yourself on his stomach, “i’m guessing it’s me?” you asked playfully, “no kidding,” he murmured before kissing you once again. 

Alex, who had felt his phone vibrate earlier in the night, finally looked to see who it was and excitedly opened it when he realized it was you. you had Snapped him a photo of you and Tim cooking dinner as Tim was slightly holding your waist. 

“oh wow,” Alex said loud enough to catch everyones attention, “what?” Fabian asked curiously. Alex showed the table the photo of the two of you, “guess ( your name ) and Tim are finally together,” Alex mentioned, a small smirk playing on his face. 

“what do you mean finally?” Marcel asked, “the two of them had been seeing each other for a while now and I guess he finally had the nerve to ask her out,” Alex was purposely laying it on thick as he saw the slight jealousy flair up in Marcel’s eyes. 

“good for them,” Walter murmured as Fabian agreed, “right? I can see them ending up married if I’m being honest.”

Marcel, who now was no longer interested in the conversation, checked your socials to see that Alex was right. you had a few photos up of you and Tim together on you Insta as he played your Insta story next. he saw a few photos of you before landing on the photos of tonight. 

you had taken a photo of you and Tim eating dinner. a part of him hated that it was Tim that you landed on to date but Marcel knew that he was the last person you could say anything. he knew you absolutely hated his guts because of how he broke up with you but he felt an annoying feeling plaguing his stomach at the thought of you dating Tim. 

[ughseoks]

the art of pretend | jhs + ksj

PAIRING; hoseok x seokjin (2seok)

GENRE/AU; fluff, humor

RATING: 18+

WORD COUNT; 4.7k

WARNINGS; swearing, innuendos, a Smidge of angst, overall stupidity, secondhand embarrassment probably

SUMMARY; An AU in which Hoseok is embarrassingly bad at first dates and Seokjin takes it upon himself to fix it. 

— Written for the Be My Bangtanvine collab hosted by @kimtaehyunq​​ 💗 —

MASTERLIST

— banner by @monotape THANK YOU I LOVE YOU 🥺💗 

— special thanks to @j-sope​ for pretty much being the sole reason that this was able to be written. i love u so much u are my everything my favorite person ever ILYLYYLIYLILYYILLYIYILYILYILYLILYILYIYIY

Jung Hoseok is horrible at first dates.

Seokjin likes to joke that the unfortunate souls his friend corrals into going on dates with him are his victims, but that joke usually results in a pouting Hoseok, so he keeps it to himself when he hears the all-too-familiar sound of his friend entering their shared apartment with a loud sigh.

“How’d it go tonight?” Seokjin calls out after a moment of silence. The only answer he gets is an alarmingly loud groan from the entryway, the sound followed by a pair of heavy footsteps shuffling their way toward the kitchen.

Hoseok appears around the corner only a few moments later, a pained expression tugging at his features as he collapses into the chair across the table from Seokjin with a huff. “Bad.”

“I don’t understand how you managed to fuck this one up,” Seokjin sighs in exasperation. “Literally everyone gets along with Namjoon. He’s, like, the nicest person on the planet. What did you even do?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Hoseok defends, pointing an accusing finger at Seokjin. “I’m offended that your first instinct is to blame me. Did you ever stop to think that maybe I was the one who rejected him?”

Seokjin levels him with a cool stare. Hoseok drops his gaze to the table before mumbling, “I accidentally set my sleeve on fire.”

“Jesus,” Seokjin groans, “Hobi, how the hell do you manage these things? What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, okay!” Hoseok cries out, “It’s not my fault that they put a candle right next to the basket of breadsticks! What kind of restaurant uses real candles anyway? This is the 21st century! Fake candles exist for a reason, you know!”

Seokjin sighs. “This is the last time I ever set you up on a date.”

“Aw, come on,” Hoseok pouts, “That’s not fair. I promise I won’t fuck up the next one; I think I’ve got the hang of dating now. Really!”

“Hobi, I literally have nobody else to offer. You’ve run through my entire collection of single acquaintances in the span of a few months.”

Hoseok blinks. “What? No way. You have to have at least one more single friend. You know, like, everyone.”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “Hoseok, you have a problem. It’s time to accept it.” He pauses. “But I think I have an idea on how to fix it.”

“No, no, I know what you’re thinking,” Hoseok interrupts. “I wear an earpiece. You sit at a table nearby, you speak into a mic, you tell me what to say on the date. It’s a great idea, Jin, but let me tell you something—it never works. Taehyung and I tried that a year or two ago and it didn’t end well.” He pauses. “At least, I don’t think it did. I’m not sure. I think my brain blocked out that memory for my own mental stability.”

“That’s…” Seokjin trails off before shaking his head. “Nevermind. My plan was for us to go on a few practice dates together so I could train you to be less nervous on your real dates.”

“Oh.” Hoseok’s face lights up. “That’s a way better idea! Good thinking, dude.”

“Please never call me dude again.”

“Would you prefer if I called you daddy?”

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “Get out.”

“You can’t kick me out of our apartment,” Hoseok pouts, “I live here too, you know.”

“I reserve the right to kick you out when you’re acting like an idiot. It’s stated in section thirty-five of our friendship contract.”

Hoseok curses under his breath. “I knew I never should’ve signed that thing.”

“Well, you did. And you’re gonna have to live with the consequences if you do stupid things like calling me daddy when all I’m trying to do is help you out.”

“Alright, alright,” Hoseok frowns, “I’m sorry.” He pauses. “But you have to admit, it does kind of suit you—”

Seokjin groans. “Fucking hell.”

Their first date happens about a week later. Hoseok shows up at Seokjin’s doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, which isn’t saying much, because they already live together—but he thinks it’s the thought that counts.

“Will you hold my hand over the console?” Hoseok asks with twinkling eyes as he grins at Seokjin from the passenger seat.

“No,” Seokjin deadpans. “I don’t hold hands on the first date.”

“But this is a fake first date,” Hoseok pushes, giving his friend the biggest puppy-dog eyes he can muster. “Surely you can break a few rules here and there.”

“Hoseok, the very fact that this date is fake is only more reason for me to reject your hand-holding offer. I’m not in the business of sharing cooties with friends.”

Hoseok slides down in his seat with an irritated grumble. If Seokjin doesn’t want to hold his hand, that’s totally fine. He’s okay with that. He doesn’t mind at all.

Noticing the dark cloud that seems to have materialized over his friend’s head, Seokjin relents with an exasperated sigh, flopping his hand palm-up over the console in an offer to Hoseok. “Fine. But if I crash this car, I’m blaming it on you.”

Hoseok grins from ear to ear as he excitedly threads his fingers with Seokjin’s. He tries not to think too hard about how perfectly they fit together.

The evening has been… a struggle, to say the least. Hoseok managed to knock his chair over when they were being seated, which would have been fine, except when he tried to pick it up, he ended up tripping over the legs and falling face-first into the aisle beside their table.

Seokjin had been hopeful that the chair debacle would be the most eventful happening of the evening, but that hope had been squashed when Hoseok knocked over a vase of flowers with his elbow during an attempt to pull out a stack of notecards from his pocket. The water had gone everywhere—including his notecards—and the waitress had given Seokjin a pitiful look as she swept up the broken glass that decorated the floor.

(The stack of notecards was mostly blank, Seokjin eventually discovered. The ones that did have writing on them had subjects like ‘windmills’, ‘circuit boards’, and ‘wyoming’ scrawled in messy loops across the front. When Seokjin gave Hoseok a questioning look, he’d explained that they were possible topics of conversation, in case he ran out of things to say.)

And now, half an hour later, Hoseok is finishing up a very long and very boring speech about elephants, looking at Seokjin expectantly as the latter sits in stunned silence.

“Wow. That was… a very thorough explanation of the stages of elephant pregnancy.”

“Thank you,” Hoseok beams. “I did lots of research. Now, onto the history of the zipper—”

“Okay, you know what?” Seokjin interrupts his friend with a tight smile, “Just… ask me a question about myself. Try to get to know me.”

“Okay,” Hoseok nods, tossing the stack of notebook cards over his shoulder haphazardly. “Okay, I can do that. Easy.” He blinks. “Uh…. I…” He stares blankly for a few seconds before dropping his head into his hands, voice muffled as he mumbles dejectedly, “God, I can’t think of anything to ask you. My mind is blank. Where are my notecards?”

“Just—Just ask me the first thing that comes to mind,” Seokjin encourages with only a hint of exasperation, grabbing Hoseok’s attention before he can reach for the soggy lump of paper sitting on the corner of the table.

Hoseok lifts his head, staring blankly for a moment before his face lights up and he blurts out, “How big is it?”

Seokjin sighs. “Really?”

“Oh my god,” Hoseok wails, “This is hopeless.”

“It’s not hopeless,” Seokjin tries to comfort with a furrowed brow. “You just… need to learn how to calm down. That’s all.”

“It’s not like I’m trying to be a nervous wreck,” Hoseok laments, sullenly snacking on a breadstick. “I just… I get so nervous, you know? My mind starts to run through all the things that could possibly go wrong and I get so desperate trying not to do or say the wrong thing that I forget what the right thing is.”

Seokjin sighs, giving his friend a sympathetic look. “Try not to get too down about it, alright? We still have all the time in the world to go on these practice dates to help you get to the bottom of whatever this problem is. It’ll all work out okay, I promise.”

Hoseok perks up a bit at that. “Thank you, Jin,” he thanks, glancing between the elder and the breadstick in his hands for a few moments before tearing it in half and offering a piece to him with a big, goofy smile.

Seokjin takes it with twinkling eyes. It’s kind of pathetic, really, that as much as he teases Hoseok, there’s absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do to keep that heart-shaped smile on his face.

Seokjin takes a different approach on his second fake date with Hoseok.

After the disastrous first date, the elder had been left wracking his brain for reasons why Hoseok is the way he is. It’s a bit of an ambiguous question, and many people would simply shrug it off as Hoseok being more nervous in social situations than most—but Seokjin knew that there was something else at play.

Hoseok is a well-liked guy. So well-liked, in fact, that when Seokjin is out perusing the town with his best-friend-slash-roommate, he finds that they’re stopped at least twice a day by complete strangers on the street because of him. Granted, the strangers aren’t quite strangers to Hoseok—they’re usually acquaintances he met at the gym, the coffee shop or even the zoo—but the point is that Seokjin doesn’t think there’s a single living thing on this planet that Hoseok isn’t friends with.

Even their houseplants prefer the younger of the two. (Hoseok vehemently denies this, but Seokjin knows it’s true. He thinks it’s because they’re attracted to the sunshine that Hoseok seems to emit every time he flashes his heart-shaped smile their way.)

The point is that Hoseok is most definitely not a nervous person, at least when it comes to platonic human interaction. The younger man is bright and loud and happy all at once, his cheery aura serving as a welcoming beacon to everyone that crosses his path. He has the largest circle of friends Seokjin has ever witnessed, and he’s even been involved in a few long-term relationships over the years.

So why can’t Hoseok seem to just act normal on first dates?

After another conversation with the man himself and a bit of reflecting on their disastrous first date, Seokjin deduced that he still had absolutely no idea what was going on inside Hoseok’s brain. However, he did manage to come up with a new plan for their second date—one that Hoseok was most definitely going to hate.

Exposure therapy.

Of course, Seokjin wasn’t going to tell Hoseok about his plan before he enacted it. That would defeat the point of it all. So, when Hoseok shows up two minutes late to their fake date with a worried expression and a mouthful of apologies, Seokjin levels him with a disinterested stare.

“You’re late.”

Hoseok’s hair is sticking every which way, a few of the sandy-colored strands plastered to his forehead. His fancy dress shirt is one button off from being correctly centered, and his pants are a bit rumpled up from something, the crinkles standing out starkly against the dark material.

“I’m so sorry,” Hoseok apologizes profusely, eyes shining with genuine guilt as he takes a nervous seat across from Seokjin. “I, uh, had to… take my... niece... to.... badminton practice?"

Seokjin hums. “How lovely. Tell me, Hoseok—what’s your niece’s name?”

"Um......... Fuckson? No, no, that's not right... Chlorissa? Torple? America?" Hoseok gulps. Shakes his head. "That—that was a lie. I don't have a niece. Is it hot in here, or is that just me?" He loosens his already uneven tie, glancing nervously towards the bathrooms behind him. "I've gotta use the... the whiz palace. You know. That place. Where you go do your business. Yeah."

Before Seokjin can say another word, Hoseok is tripping out of his chair and making a mad dash for the restrooms, stumbling all the way there. Seokjin winces when his friend takes an accidental turn into the women's restroom rather than the men's, waiting for the accompanying shriek that usually comes alongside Hoseok's all-too-common accidents.

But instead of a terrified scream, Seokjin is met with the face of a nervous Hoseok peeking out of the doorway, his eyes wide and frantic as he makes eye contact with his fake date across the restaurant.

"Bathroom!" Hoseok shouts, ignoring the stares of the other patrons in the room. "It's called a bathroom! Hah!"

Seokjin throws the staff an apologetic smile before dropping his head onto the table dramatically. They have long, long ways to go.

“Hoseok is…. in worse shape than I thought,” Seokjin admits quietly, glancing over his shoulder when he hears the sound of familiar laughter echoing from the table a few feet behind him. Hoseok is sitting by himself, laughing at… nothing. Seokjin turns back to the bartender, a close friend named Jimin, with a look of disbelief. “Is he practice laughing?”

“Maybe you should take a different approach?” Jimin muses, eyes sparkling as he glances at Hoseok over Jin’s shoulder. “Try showing him what a bad date would feel like so he doesn’t psych himself out anymore?”

“I already did that,” Seokjin groans, “I don’t know what else to try. Seriously. He just… ran off to the bathroom. After lying about having a niece.”

Jimin hums. “Maybe try laying it on a bit thicker. You’re still being too nice; you’ve gotta channel your inner asshole. Think about all the shitty dates you’ve been on in your past.”

“Isn’t that a bit mean, though?” Seokjin asks. “I’ve been on some pretty bad dates; I don’t want to traumatize him.”

“Hoseok isn’t made of glass, Jin,” Jimin smiles. “He’ll be fine, I promise. Besides, he knows how much you care about him. He’s not gonna take anything you say or do to heart.”

Seokjin sighs in resignation. “You’re right.” He glances over at his friend once more. “I guess I should get back to him before he breaks anything else. Or has another conversation with an imaginary date.”

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Jimin grins cheekily, “Have fun bullying your fake date!’

Seokjin flips him off before making his way back to the table, already in character when Hoseok greets him with a warm smile and bright eyes. He finds it hard not to immediately melt at the sight—not for any reason in particular; Hoseok just has that effect on people—and when he takes his seat across from the younger man, Seokjin has to push down the urge to smile back.

“What did Jiminie have to say?” Hoseok asks cheerily, fingertips drumming nervously against the tablecloth. Seokjin ignores the question and reaches over to take a french fry off of Hoseok’s plate. The younger man blinks at him in confusion, the ever-present smile on his face slipping slightly. “Jin? Is everything al—”

“So,” Seokjin interrupts loudly and leans over to snatch another fry from Hoseok’s plate, still chewing on the first one he stole as he speaks. “How do you feel about sex on the first date?”

“Uhh…” Hoseok trails off uncomfortably, shifting a bit in his seat. “I’m sorry, w-what?”

Seokjin pauses in his chewing and stares at Hoseok silently for a few seconds before swallowing dramatically, eyebrows raised in slight annoyance. “I said,” he drawls, “How do you feel about sex on the first date? I need to know if tonight is gonna be worth my time.”

“That… that’s....” Hoseok murmurs in disbelief, “Um. Wow. Okay then.”

A few beats of silence pass, the two men staring at each other uncomfortably until Seokjin breaks the silence. “Another important question. How do you feel about full moons? I love them. Personally, I feel really connected to wolves. I’m pretty sure I was a wolf in my past life, actually.”

“Wolves are… cool, I guess?” Hoseok agrees, the end of his sentence twisting to sound more like a question than a response. “They look fluffy.”

“Fluffy?” Seokjin splutters, “You’re kidding me. They’re ruthless killing machines, Hongjoong. The epitome of what an alpha male should be. I was definitely an alpha wolf in my past life.”

“Hongjoong?” Hoseok asks, pointedly ignoring whatever the hell else Seokjin just said.

“Oh. My bad. I have a date with my boyfriend later tonight—his name is Hongjoong—and I got your names kinda mixed up.” He pauses. “Wait, what’s your name again?”

“Hoseok,” he grits out.

“Ohhh,” Seokjin grins lazily, “I remember now! You’re the dude with the flat ass. Your profile said you were a dancer, though, so I thought there was a good chance you’re good in bed. We all have to make sacrifices, I guess. You get it, right?”

Hoseok’s jaw drops to the floor. It’s going to be a long, long night.

“I can’t believe you’d say that, Seokjin,” Hoseok murmurs, his eyes widened in disbelief. “That dog was my best friend, it crushed me when we had to let him go—”

“Brring brring,” Seokjin interrupts, holding up his phone before pretending to talk to someone on the other end of the line. “Oh, hey Hongjoong. Yeah. No, I’m not busy. Just on a date with the flat ass guy I told you about.” He’s silent for a few moments, never once breaking eye contact with Hoseok as he speaks into the receiver. “Yeah. Hold on, I’ll ask him.” He covers the receiver with the palm of his hand. “Hey, wanna watch a porno with me and my boyfriend tonight?”

Hoseok sits there in shocked silence for a few moments before a line of anger creases his brow, eyes narrowed in irritation as he sends a disgusted scowl Seokjin’s way. “No, Seokjin, because you’re disgusting. I am disgusted.”

Seokjin stares blankly for a few seconds. “So, it’s definitely a no?”

“I don’t understand why you’re being so horrible!” Hoseok raises his voice, gesturing wildly as he groans in frustration. “We’re just two people trying to go on a date. It’s supposed to be fun!”

“You’re right,” Seokjin grins, placing his phone down on the table. “It is just a date. Well done, my friend.”

Hoseok tilts his head, brow furrowing in confusion. “Huh?”

“I’m sorry I was so rude to you,” he explains, “But now you see that even if everything goes wrong, you’ll survive. Dates are meant to be fun, Hoseok—there’s no need to put so much pressure on yourself.”

“Oh.” Hoseok blinks. “Ohhh,” a grin begins to stretch across his face as he leans back in his chair, “I see what you did there, you sneaky, sneaky smurf.”

Seokjin shakes his head, watching with a small smile as Hoseok immediately delves into his opinion on the newest Scooby-Doo live action movie. Some things never change, he thinks to himself, unable to keep the wave of fondness that washes over him at bay.

It’s on the third date that Seokjin realizes he loves Hoseok.

Now, in a normal situation, Seokjin would agree that the third date is a bit soon to be making such powerful declarations. But this isn’t a normal situation, and Seokjin is pretty sure that he’s actually been in love with his best friend for a long, long time.

He isn’t sure why it took him so long to figure it out, nor does he know why the sight of Hoseok laughing at a joke he made while sipping on a strawberry milkshake is The Moment™ that the realization dawned upon him—but that doesn’t matter; not really. Because Hoseok is smiling at him with crinkles by his eyes and dimples on full display and he thinks his heart is about to beat clear out of his chest.

Seokjin isn’t an absolute disaster on first dates like his friend tends to be, but he hasn’t had a long term relationship since moving in with Hoseok two years ago, either. He never really took the time to think about why that is—he always assumed he just hadn’t found “the one” yet—but looking at it in hindsight, it’s because nobody compared to Hoseok. Nobody compares to him now, sitting across the booth from Seokjin with his twinkling eyes and excited hand gestures.

Hoseok is doing far better than he did on their past two dates. Seokjin managed to convince him to leave the notecards with topics of conversation on them at their apartment, and while Hoseok was nervous that he’d run out of things to discuss without them by his side, he soon realized he had nothing to worry about.

He had nothing to worry about, because Seokjin is completely and utterly enamored by every little thing that Hoseok says, clinging to the words that fall from his lips no matter how silly they might be. Because Hoseok’s words have a warmth to them; they’re instilled with pure joy, spoken with a bright smile and sprinkled with love.

“Jin?” Hoseok’s voice breaks Seokjin out of his thoughts. He’s waving his hand haphazardly in front of his face, peppering in a snap of his fingers every so often for added effect. “Anyone home?”

“Cut it out.” Seokjin bats away Hoseok’s hands, fighting the smile creeping onto his face.

Hoseok pouts. “You weren’t paying attention to me.”

If only you knew, Seokjin thinks to himself. Instead, he says: “You haven’t done anything yet to grab my attention. By now, you’ve usually broken at least one inanimate object and offended at least two workers.”

“That means I’ve improved!��� Hoseok points out with a grin, chomping down excitedly on a curly fry dipped in ranch. “I think I’m just about ready for a real date, Jin.”

Seokjin freezes. “You are,” he agrees slowly, trying to fight the sinking feeling in his chest.

“You know, there’s this cute boy who gave me his number the other day at the ice cream shop,” Hoseok babbles mindlessly as he scrolls through his contacts, “I could shoot him a text. He seemed nice enough, and it’d be a great way to test my improvement out in the real world, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Seokjin murmurs as he fidgets with the strings on his hoodie. “Yes. That sounds great, Hobi.”

The fake date carries on like normal. Seokjin rolls his eyes at Hoseok’s antics one too many times, and the younger man laughs a little too enthusiastically at his cheesy puns and dad jokes. It’s nothing out of the ordinary for their fake dates—except this time, Seokjin finds himself wishing it was real.

It’s been a long time since Seokjin has allowed himself to sulk, but he’s pretty sure that being hit with the realization that he’s in love with his best-friend-slash-roommate and knowing that his feelings aren’t returned are good enough reasons to dig into his emergency stash of ice cream.

Hoseok is out on a date tonight. A date that isn’t with Seokjin. He left about fifteen minutes ago, Sekojin notes as he glances at his watch in dismay. He’s probably out cracking jokes and knocking over chairs and breaking water glasses and embarrassing himself—all with a stranger.

Not Seokjin.

Never Seokjin; at least, never again.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of knuckles rapping clumsily at his front door. He sets his ice cream down on the coffee table with a huff, because he has a sinking feeling that his perfectly valid plans for a lonely night filled with self-pity are about to be interrupted. He just wants to eat his ice cream in peace, dammit—not to mention he hasn’t even had time to be sad about Hoseok’s date yet.

But when Seokjin opens the door to see Hoseok standing there with a smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers, his heart can’t help but tremble.

“Hobi. This is literally our apartment, you don’t have to knock.”

Hoseok winks. “I know.”

“Did you forget your keys or something?” Seokjin asks, the hint of exhaustion tinging the edge of his words suddenly fading away to make room for confusion when the smattering of pink, yellow and white flowers in Hoseok’s arms suddenly registers in his mind. “Wait, why do you have flowers? I thought you were meeting that boy from the ice cream shop? Oh my god, did you already run him off, that has to be a new record for you—”

“I’m the one who called off the date,” Hoseok interrupts, his grin never fading as Seokjin continues to look at him with growing uncertainty.

“What? I thought you liked him?”

Hoseok shrugs. “I went to buy him flowers before we met up, but I realized that I didn’t really want to be buying flowers for him after all.”

“I… don’t think I’m quite following what you’re saying, Hobi,” Seokjin drawls, eyes wide and brows raised. “You called off the date because you didn’t feel like buying flowers?”

“I called off the date because I realized that I wanted to be buying flowers for you, not the cute ice cream guy,” Hoseok says cheerily, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “I wanted to be buying a bouquet of flowers for you. I wanted to be meeting you at that restaurant, for a real, actual date.”

Seokjin blinks. Hoseok carries on.

“You see, I was looking at all the different colored roses and I thought ‘Hey, these colors remind me of Seokjin’, and then it hit me that I’m kind of in love with you. Like, really in love with you. Head over heels. Absolutely bonkers. Unbelievably enamored, if you will. Hey, has anyone ever told you that you have really kissable lips? They’re, like, super soft and shiny and pretty. I really wanna kiss them. Can I? Is that too forward of me?”

Hoseok finally halts his rambling of words with an excited grin, completely oblivious to the way Seokjin stands flabbergasted just a few feet in front of him. His chest feels warm and fuzzy and he doesn’t think twice before reaching out and pulling Hoseok into a kiss. It’s messy and uncoordinated and their teeth accidentally clash when Hoseok makes a loud noise of surprise, but it’s perfect, their bodies fitting together like two missing puzzle pieces as they sink into each other’s embrace.

And when Seokjin finally pulls away after an indiscernible amount of time, he finds that the only words he can manage to say are, “That was the least romantic confession I’ve ever heard.”

“Sorry,” Hoseok grins, not actually sorry at all. “Does this mean that you like me back, though?”

Seokjin throws him an incredulous look. “I literally just made out with you in our front doorway. Where all the neighbors can see us.”

“Bros kiss all the time, my dude. I just wanted to make sure that was an ‘i’m-in-love-with-you’ kiss, not an ‘i-know-we’re-bros-and-all-but-i-kinda-wanna-kiss-you-because-you’re-hot’ kiss.”

“Why would it ever be the second option?” Seokjin asks, dumbfounded. “Wait—which of your ‘bros’ have you been kissing? Why didn’t I ever know about this?”

“Jungkook. Only when we’re drunk, though.”

“Oh my god,” Seokjin groans, “Is that where the two of you would run off to every time we went to a house party together?”

Hoseok snickers. “Maybe.”

“I did not need to know that. Please, take it back. Wipe my memory away with one of those little Apple TV remotes from Men In Black.”

“Don’t worry, Jin,” Hoseok laughs, leaning forward to press a light kiss to his lips. “You’re the only person I wanna sneak off with now. Besides, Jungkook has his eyes on Taehyung these days.”

“Whatever,” Seokjin grumbles in a voice that the both of them know isn’t truly bothered. “And to be clear, that kiss earlier was actually a ‘you’re-an-idiot-but-for-some-reason-i-love-you-too kiss. Now get back over here and let me kiss you again.”

//

Seokjin and Hoseok’s dates still manage to end in disaster more often than not. But Hoseok always reacts with an embarrassed giggle and a smile on his face, and Seokjin wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

A/N; yes i’m alive. sorry 😳

MASTERLIST

© ughseoks 2020, all rights reserved. do NOT modify, translate, or repost my works. modification, translations, and/or redistribution of my works on any platform is strictly prohibited.

[haikyuuties-xo]

Ground Zero - Oikawa Tohru

a short story about an overlooked part of Oikawa's life.

i see a lot of myself in Oikawa and maybe that's what compelled me to write this.

this is actually based off of my own experience with different circumstances so i promise this isn't too unrealistic haha

TW: depression, hospitals, seizure, self-harm

oikawa tohru. crowd favorite, ladies man, and, of course, superb athlete.

he was a hard worker, that's what turned raw talents into honed skills.

yet few knew the dangerous way he toed against the line.

-

sirens faintly blare in the background as iwaizumi runs as fast as his legs can carry him. fuck, fuck, fuck. not again.

-

oikawa always overdid it, pushing himself further than anyone should. no matter the coaxing — "even olympic athletes need their breaks", "come on, it's not like your gonna go pro, right?", "dude, you've been at this for hours!" — oikawa never stopped working.

oikawa was the top of his class in academics and popularity. on the outside he appeared so care free and easy-going — like he didn't have a care in the world. iwaizumi knew better. he knew well the calculating, cold and domineering personality that lay beneath the faux exterior. it didn't take long for the rest of the team to realize the same thing.

-

the sirens grew louder as iwaizumi neared the aoba johsai gymnasium. quickly sliding the familiar back door, his shoes squeaked beneath him as he rushed up to his teammate lying unresponsive on the cold gym floor.

"dammit, shittykawa, you already fucked up your knee and now look."

beads of sweat coated oikawa's forehead, his strained expression remained.

paramedics arrived quickly after, supporting oikawa's body along with iwaizumi in order to properly transport him to the Miyagi Prefecture Hospital.

hospitalizations were not unfamiliar to iwaizumi, all thanks to his best friend.

upon their quick arrival, the ever-familiar smell of hand sanitizer, disinfectant, and old people filled iwaizumi's nose.

"god i fucking hate hospitals."

iwaizumi never got used to the smell, just like how he never got used to the anxiety that pitted in his stomach when he'd sit inside the hospital room while Oikawa remained stable, but unconscious.

after what felt like an eternity, oikawa's eyes fluttered open. Oikawa sighed in recognition.

"you've got to stop doing this to yourself, tohru."

"i know. they don't want broken athletes—"

"nOT JUST THAT YOU DUMB FUCK YOU HAVE A LIFE THAT'S WORTH LIVING FOR MORE THAN JUST A FUCKING SPORT."

"you want this as much as me."

"yeah, but not enough to damage myself forever! this is the 17th time you've collapsed and your 5th hospitalization. first the knee, fainting spells — which, by the way, you're so fucking lucky this is all this shit is — anemia attacks, starvation, the list goes on."

Oikawa looked down, his tired eyes staring at the crisp, white, linen sheet. he stood up, being sure to do so slowly, before ringing for an attendant. within seconds, a nurse rushed in asking, "anything i can help you with, sweetheart? could i get you some ginger ale for this medication I'm gonna give you?"

"water's fine, thanks. actually, i was wondering how fast i can leave."

"we're going to have a quick run-by with our neurologist just to make sure there isn't any head trauma from when you fainted and then you should be good to go."

Oikawa nodded, thanking her again before sitting down again in his hospital bed.

"what am I supposed to tell the team, Hajime..."

"tell them the truth — that you overdid it again. they're not blind, ya know."

oikawa didn't reply, thankful that the nurse who quickly placed the meds and bottle of water down served as a proper distraction. downing a bit of water, Oikawa coughed before swallowing the pills. clicking the button again, Oikawa paged the nursing staff.

she popped in once again with a smile, "all set with the meds? great. I'll see about that neurologist." she left once more.

"you sure are an inpatient asshole."

oikawa laughed, "that might be a new one." yet, when he'd laughed, he felt a straight in one of his muscles, like a vein was stretched. suddenly, black spots began to overtake his vision — oikawa's familiar warning that he was set on a path to another fainting spell if he didn't lie down. as inconspicuously as possible, he laid back down.

"I guess I'll try to get some sleep." Oikawa said, though both he and iwaizumi knew of Oikawa's insomniac tendencies.

-

Oikawa awoke from blackness to the bright lights of his hospital room and a twange of pain in his mouth.

"wow, i can't believe i fell asleep."

panic set in as soon as he spoke. he looked down and in his nose was an air tube, on his chest were heart rate monitors, and at the elbow of his veiny arm was an IV jabbed into his vein. the cords were tied to the hospital bed, making him feel like a prisoner. he began to struggle, trying to pull some of the cords that seemed as chains, the beeping of his heart rate monitor furthering his anxiety, bringing back flashbacks of his knee displacement.

iwaizumi quickly stirred from his concentration — he hadn't sleep, but seemed to have been deeply absorbed in thought.

"HEY! hey, shittykawa, stop it! STOP IT!" iwaizumi made a grab for oikawa's arms, steading him as oikawa's labored breathing began to slow.

"haji, what the fuck. what is all this shit on me. i was supposed to go home...", he glanced at the clock, "5 hours ago!"

"Oikawa, stop it. Just stop."

"Why should I? this is all so unnecessary, i just fainted for gods sake!"

"Oikawa."

at last, Oikawa made eye contact with the solemn and tortured eyes of iwaizumi.

"Oikawa, you had a seizure."

Oikawa's eyebrows shot up in disbelief, then into anger, then complete and udder sorrow.

"tohru, hey, it's okay. they think it was just a stress seizure. still, you had me fucking screaming at one point there."

"what....what was i like?"

iwaizumi pondered for a moment, looking away.

"well, first, all your limbs rose up together while you stared all creepy-like, like a robot. then, you lowered them and started shaking all over, foaming at the mouth — but your spit was red."

"i think i bit my tongue, it fucking hurts."

"well, you're not leaving either way."

"yes i am."

"no you're not."

"yes i am."

"no you're not."

"yes i am"

"i override the captain as he is no longer in the proper mental state to be commanding orders."

"you can't do that!" Oikawa immediately tried to stand to defend his honor, but quickly regretted it. pain shot up to his head, right behind his eyes. he couldn't hide the wince in pain.

"Tohru, this is good for you. don't think i didn't notice your cuts. when did you relapse? wait, don't tell me. you don't have to. the point is, you need to reach out for help — there's so many people here who are ready to give it."

"Haji, all i am is a fucking burden. trust me, I've taken much more than I've given."

iwaizumi bit the inside of his cheek, beginning to overthink his own choices.

"hey, if it's cuz of what i said about you being shitty—"

"it's not that. iwaizumi, look around. I'm in the fucking hospital, ruining your Saturday night, ruining our chances at the championships, ruining everything. like i always do. i always fuck everything up. i always think if i try a little harder than I'll be good enough. then i always end back up at ground zero."

iwaizumi sighed. "you're the only guy who can look at all what you've accomplished and see it as a fucking zero."

"you mean, the only guy who can see things realistically."

"Oikawa, you deserve more than what your brain tells you you deserve."

oikawa's vision blurred, his resolve crumpling. it still didn't feel right. iwaizumi is wrong. wrong, wrong, WRONG. I don't deserve shit. i haven't earned it. his chin began to wobble as iwaizumi engulfed him in a tight hug.

"Oikawa, it might not feel like it now, but i promise some day it will."

oikawa nodded, not believing it himself, but holding onto the hope that some day he would.

writing this was very therapeutic to me. upon rereading it later, I've realized that i find the interactions between iwa and oikawa are quite similar to some of the conversations I've had with myself. please know that no matter what you're going through, there is always light at the end of the tunnel.

[timefirewrites]

I won NaNo!!

Words written: 525

Total words: 50280

Favorite lines from the whole story:

“Uh, state your business.” 

“Current objective unknown. Error.” 

Well, that was helpful.

------

Right. The robot didn’t know about their foolproof plan yet. 

“See that train? We’ll sneak onto it and ride it into freedom.” 

“Understood.” 

Silence. Wow, Neb had to do everything on their own, didn’t they. 

“We need to get into that freight car.” They pointed at a random car in the middle of the train. 

“Understood.”

What a thrilling conversation. Neb mumbled something under their breath and strode towards the hovertrain, head kept low again.

-------

“The stuff we’re mining here. Dark black, dusty. Makes the air hard to breathe. Looks like your metal, except less shiny. Also COLE and Coal sound similar.” 

-------

“Hey.” Coals head immediately turned to face them. “Please stop squeezing me. I don’t wanna die just yet.” Neb spoke painfully slowly, not yet having regained complete control of their body. Coal on the other hand was very quick to act and stopped pressing Neb to their chest. 

------

“What’s up with your display?” Their voice sounded more steady now, which was good. 

“I do not understand.” Their voice on the other hand just sounded confused. 

“Oh, right. You probably can’t see it. You’re currently displaying an error message. Which just reads ‘error’. Not very helpful.” 

“Fuck. I didn’t deactivate it.” 

------

They settled on two things they were pretty sure were edible: a soda labeled “SpacePop: the best soda in the universe” with a “multiple sunsets on Madoras” flavor and some leftover pizza. (They were pretty sure Madoras didn’t exist, they never heard of that planet before. Maybe they shouldn’t drink that soda after all.)

------

“We could just go in and race to the top.” 

“What? No. Why would we do that? We can’t afford to get caught, we need to make a plan, Coal.” 

“You said you wanted an adventure. Plus, I do not think we could create a plan, seeing as we know next to nothing about its defence and security.” 

They said that because of them? They were just rambling earlier, not really thinking about it, just talking to fill the silence. 

“Okay. But if anything goes wrong, it’ll be your fault.” 

------

“Then let me go. This is my spaceship now, go steal someone else’s.” They crossed their arms. 

“Your spaceship? I think not. Believe me, I know which ship we’ve been waiting for and it’s that one.” Cap gestured to the ship the child was still standing in. 

“And? Who cares.” Cap repressed a long sigh and/or a string of curses. 

“Joshua White does. Because that’s his ship. What did you do to him?” If that child killed him, then Cap had no problem with just letting them go again. 

“Who? I stole it. And? It doesn’t matter anyways!” Someone was worked up about something. Cap was as well. 

“So you mean to tell me that our target is back on Earth?! Stranded! On one of the most secure planets in this part of the galaxy! With no way for us to get down there without dying!” They took a deep breath. And then another one. Then, they threw their damned breathing exercises out the window.

-------

“Where are you?” 

“What?” The voice was taken aback. 

“I mean, I can’t see you anywhere?” Neb looked around again, and yes, there still wasn’t some small alien they just didn’t notice the first two times. 

“Oh. I’m the ship. Nice to meet you?” They sounded somewhat embarrassed, like they can’t believe they forgot to mention they’re a ship. 

------

“Then that’s it. Welcome to the 35th century. Here we have technology that works most of the time.” 

------

“I’m Laser, my gender is a burning trash can and my pronouns depend entirely on the mercy of the universe.” 

-----

“I was really looking forward to never seeing this thing again.” This comment earned Laser a punch in her ribs from Ahdia. 

They signed something to Laser, who flipped them off, [...]

-----

In the community room, the screen went blank, just as the bad guy held the heroes at gunpoint. 

"Darling, I know you resent my taste of movies, but this is way below you." Mer did not look pleased. 

"You're outnumbered now! Coal agreed to watch Love On A Foreign Planet with me. So, uh, get moving, Fishsticks." 

"I can't believe you already brainwashed them. It's not even been a full day, give them a break first, darling." As if to illustrate his point, Mer draped herself over the couch, an arm covering their visor and sighed dramatically. They reached for the remote control and turned the screen back on. Rude. Com turned it off again. 

"You are insufferable, darling."

-------

“I’m okay!” 

Another crash, another sentence yelled: “Fuck!” 

------

Laser seemed to be enjoying it as well, while Mer stared at Neb's skewer longingly. 

"You want some?" They're the last person to not share their food. 

"No thanks, darling.” Okay, Mer stared at Neb’s skewer with disgust. 

-------

“A word of advice, don’t insult the only person preventing me from killing all of you.” Laser typically spoke with a monotone voice, but this was different. It was ice cold. 

-------

“Stop staring at me, you creep.” Laser didn’t open her eyes, and if Lifo wouldn’t have noticed her mouth moving, there would be no indication that she was awake at all. 

“Make me.” Fel was concerned. It’s been a while since Laser last passed out. 

“Ugh. Fine.” She slowly reached up, grabbed the scarf that was still hanging from her head and threw it at Lifo. She missed by half a meter or so.

------

“Ah, good. You’re, uh, awake again.” 

“Good morning to you too.” So much for enjoying breakfast in the comfortable silence of his room. 

“Actually, uh, it’s already afternoon.” Huh. The stuff Nova gave him must’ve been stronger than he remembered. Or maybe he had just been very tired. Ugh, Cap probably wanted to talk to him as soon as he got up. 

“Cap wants to, uh, talk to you.” And there it was.

--------

Somehow, Neb ends up at the medbay. Nova was in the middle of doing something very important on his display, which certainly wasn't playing Gen’ros Apocalypse with Com. 

-------

“Understandable. But hey, once we’re done you can probably spend the rest of your life on whichever planet you want.” Mer let out a chuckle. 

“I highly doubt it’s going to be that many creds, Arequos live very long after all.” At least as long as they don’t show their face on planets that want them dead. 

-----

“And let me guess: you’re planning our downfall right now.” Laser tried to look unimpressed, but the way the corners of her mouth lifted up ever so slightly ruined the act. Not everybody is born as talented as Mer, after all. 

“Maybe so. Perhaps I’m thinking about the best way to shove you out the airlock and how to pretend it was all a terrible accident.” 

“As if your reflexes are fast enough to overwhelm me like that.” 

“Darling, you know me by now, I’m more than capable of startling you.” 

“Prove it.” 

Well, Mer couldn’t refuse an invitation like that, now could they? Moving as sleek as ever, she was up in Laser’s face in the blink of an eye. 

“Surprise.” It was barely audible, but the grin on his face spoke for its own. 

--------

“Ugh.” Fel wanted to say something more, fel really did, but apparently fel had spent too much time with Mer because Lifo dramatically collapsed onto the floor, face first. 

------

“It worked! Fuck yes! It worked!” Nearly bursting with excitement, Coal punched into thin air - and accidentally fired bursts of energy at the ceiling.

------

It was green. No oceans, no land that wasn’t overgrown. But it was a sick green, like all the plants were infected with something and slowly rotting. And that only got worse as they entered the atmosphere and Cap could start to make out more details. Nothing was moving. But that was probably just a trick of… the light or something. It would be impossible for a whole planet to be absolutely frozen in time, right?

------

“Good luck to you two and don’t take too long, I really want to get back.” He opened the door for them and Cap gestured to Coal to go first. 

“Believe me, I don’t want to either. Don’t move. Unless, you get, like, attacked by some plant monsters, then please do just that.” Laser gave them a thumbs up and Cap left as well. 

------

So Coal went to pick them up, but both of them realized half way through that they had no idea what they were doing. Coal ended up clutching Cap to their chest in a weird, one-sided hug and proceeded to lift them out the water. Wait, what? 

“What are you doing?” 

“I am going to fly. I am sick of wading through this mud.” Cap didn’t know they could do that. 

The flying turned out to be more of a hovering and it wasn’t particularly fast either. 

“Can’t you go any faster?” 

“Sure. If you want me to spend an hour or two afterwards recharging.” At least the mental image of the two hovering across this bog walking speed managed to push back the horrible feeling that grew stronger and stronger the longer Cap was on this planet. 

------

“Attention. Intruders on floor minus 30. Everyone keep calm and stay in your rooms, the COLEs will take care of it. I repeat: intruders on floor minus 30.” 

“Fuck.” Cap and Coal said in unison. 

“What do we do? Fuck, what do we do?!” Cap gestured wildly around. 

“Keep calm and stay in our room?” 

“That’s. Not. Helping.” 

------

There was no reason in getting back to the others quickly, so Cap took their time. A big disadvantage of disrupting the radars on the planet below them was that their own radar couldn’t pick up any signals anymore either. They don’t remember when exactly, but at some point Coal shut down, not having enough energy to keep going, still clutching the weapon tightly to their chest. 

Taglist (ask to be added/removed): @black-lakritz-dragon​ @marewriteblr​ @spacetimewraithwrites @emmaschoutenwrites @abalonetea

[canvas-the-florist]

Quarantined Together

Ship: Dukexiety

Warnings: Dismemberment mention, lots of talk about coronavirus, swearing, food mentions, Remus-Esque jokes made by someone who can’t write Remus,

Summary: Remus and Virgil deal with social distancing while being very tired of COVID-19.

Word Count: 1.4K

-

Remus walked home from his job, he was a grocer and newly considered an ‘essential worker’ due to recent developments of the coronavirus. He was tired and overworked. Remus didn’t really have a way with words but customers seemed too preoccupied with their own shit to notice him at the current moment. A small victory and one of the only things that could be considered a positive to social distancing. In short, Remus King was tired of all the bullshit he had been dealing with and this day wasn’t a particularly good one.

First, he was forced to work a job he couldn’t afford to quit during a global pandemic, and random strangers would yell at him when the store ran out of stuff. Like, it wasn’t his fault all the cleaning supplies are gone! He’s not magic. Second, his twin brother is stuck four states away because of their parents who hated both of them. And third, Remus got kicked out of college dorms last week and he just moved into his boyfriend’s apartment. Sure, it’s nice to see Virgil every day but it’s kind of bittersweet when it’s not a choice the two had to make. It’s turned from a good decision to do one day to necessary to keep Remus off the streets. He was tired. Tired of a lot of things.

Remus opened the door to see Virgil watching Netflix on his phone even though he was on the couch across the TV. He sighed loudly but made sure to wash his hands immediately before collapsing on top of his boyfriend. Virgil made a noncommittal grunt to acknowledge Remus’s existence before paying full attention to whatever the hell he was watching.

“Thanks for the love, Virgil,” Remus stated sarcastically as he sat on the opposite side of the couch and tangled his legs with Virgil’s. “I feel like a worm being picked off a sidewalk by a snotty toddler.”

Virgil looked up and saw the bags under Remus’s eyes, which seemed to be competing with his eyeshadow. His eyebrows furrowed with concern. Remus didn’t make as bad a metaphor as he normally would… Not even a single curse word. He was off his game. “Rem... Bad day?”

Remus nodded and fell on top of Virgil. “Just play with my hair until the sleep deprivation takes me.”

So he did. Virgil liked keeping busy to fight his anxiety and Remus’s love language happened to be physical touch. It kind of worked out. Remus didn’t like talking about his bad days and would go to cuddles and hair braiding for comfort. Truth be told, outside all his sex jokes, he just kind of wanted to be held… All the time. Virgil eventually carried Remus into their bed and they just lied there. Virgil used to tell stories of all the crazy shit he had done that day but it stopped after he stopped going outside.

Virgil had asthma and as a result, was a high-risk person for the virus. A high-risk person and an essential worker in one apartment was kind of scary, to say the least, but they made it work. Remus took care of his hygiene and avoided touching people as much as he could. But they were both tired. Tired of all the shit that was happening. Social distancing was important and Remus knew that… He got that he was stupid and reckless and he should take this seriously. But when he wasn’t laughing at COVID-19 he risked crying about it.

Remus cuddled into Virgil, hiding his face in his chest. He mumbled into Virgil’s shirt that couldn’t be deciphered.

“What’s that?” Virgil asked with a raised eyebrow.

His boyfriend looked up at him with a grumpy look on his face. Virgil gave a soft smile while Remus groaned. “Stop it. I’m mad… Mad at the government. They are making me mad. I want to dismember them like a doll redesigner…” He furrowed his eyebrows. Something seemed off with his choice of words. “Doll recreator? Doll… Like those people who take ugly dolls and change them into a different doll.”

Virgil tucked Remus’s hair back out of his face to gain his attention sneakily. “I’m sure you can find another metaphor to say that you want anarchy.”

“Sure I can, but I feel like you would prefer to hear about dismembering dolls than babies,” Remus said, seeing Virgil’s nose wrinkle. He sat up more on Virgil’s legs. “See I was right, now if I only knew the fucking word that would be epic… Whatever, I’ll move on eventually. I’m mad at the government like… Like everyone is mad at Jeff Bezos. Everyone agrees he sucks but he’s too rich to do anything about it.” Remus fell back on Virgil. “I just wish we were safer. From a lot of things but right now, I want you to be safe from that stupid plague.”

“I will be safe,” Virgil stopped, considering his own anxieties. He had no guarantee that he would be safe and he was fucking terrified of Remus and his friends getting hurt. But banding together and taking everything in slowly was better than being too scared to breathe. “Actually no, I don’t know if I will be safe. But I do know that you’re trying your goddamn best to keep me safe. And I trust you. I trust that you’re going to keep me safe, even if the world’s a mess.”

“I trust you too,” Remus whispered. “You’re keeping me sane and forcing me to make healthy choices I probably wouldn’t have made if I was living alone. I trust that you’re going to live and we’re both going to be okay.”

That was the end of their talking. Virgil kept cradling Remus until he eventually fell asleep. That’s when he decided to carry him to their bed. He didn’t have much to do anymore. The highlight of his days is usually when Remus comes home and even then Remus is so drained he almost always passes out soon after. Virgil eventually got out of bed to make their dinner. He would wake up Remus later. Right now he needed a mental break from everything that was happening. Virgil breathed in and made a small serving of spaghetti. He wasn’t much of a cook but knew enough to avoid eating microwavable soup for every meal.

Virgil looked back at the bedroom door and sighed. He wished that he could make Remus happier. This whole situation was shitty and he felt bad that he couldn’t help pay rent anymore. His job had been closed for a long time. Which was good, even if it didn’t feel like it. Still shitty that he didn’t know if he’d come out of this with a job. Resisting the urge to cry, Virgil decided to wake up Remus.

��Hey, Remus?” Virgil got a ‘what the fuck?’ back followed by a loud thump. Virgil quickly opened the door to see that Remus had fallen out the bed. He rolled his eyes and went to help him up by extending his arm. “Wow, I didn’t know that knocking on doors scared you so much.”

Remus took his hand and shakily stood up. “I didn’t know you were such a bitch.” He gave a pointed look and Virgil held his hands up in surrender with a laugh, clearly not that sorry. “So what are we having for dinner, Virge, a plate of dicks?”

“A plate of spaghetti, actually. And you better hurry up or I might just accidentally lose your portion.”

“You say that as if I won’t just steal your food.”

Either way, the two were handling quarantine the best that they could. Hand in hand with horrible jokes sliding off their lips. What a bunch of dorks. Remus called the food shitty but Virgil knew he appreciated the food. Remus could cook under no circumstances and he had been banned from basically all kitchens after setting fire to the microwave twice last year. At least at Virgil’s place, Remus could eat more than takeout food. The day ended with them on the couch binging their twelfth show together.

They were both tired, restless, and scared, but at least they were tired, restless, and scared without being alone.

Taglist: @roseyturtles @g4ym3rg0rl @cautionary-lie @kriere @cascoal

[doctor243]

The Girl Who Cried Wolf Chapter 7

Summary: 5 times MJ says ‘I love you’ and 1 time Peter says it back.

Characters: Michelle Jones, Peter Parker

AO3

The blaring of an alarm clock and a pounding headache woke MJ up from a restless sleep. Some weird dream involving marshmallows, tea and a spatula. She slapped a hand on the ‘off’ button and curled deeper into her blankets. But her blankets were too hot; in fact, her entire body seemed too hot. Was she getting sick? She tried clearing her throat but stopped when she realised how dry it was. Yep, she was definitely down with the cold. But the cold had never stopped Michelle Jones from getting to school before, and today wouldn’t be the first. Sliding her blanket off and gingerly placing her feet on the floor, MJ stood up and promptly collapsed.

Okay, maybe today would be the first day after all. No biggie, everyone had sick days. In fact, Peter had sick days where he wasn’t even sick, probably out webbing the world together.

She slid back into bed, making sure to text her Mum that she was calling in sick today, before slipping into much welcomed sleep. Yet it felt like she’d only gotten a second of sleep before she woke up to a thump. Slowly rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she forced a peak over the edge of the bed to find her phone on the floor. Vibrating. Picking it up, she gritted her teeth. Peter Parker. 23 Missed Calls. 317 Text Messages. Had her phone vibrated so much that it fell off her night stand? She was going to throttle the little twerp. Or punch him. In the mouth. With her mouth. Softly.

What time was it even? Looking at the clock, she grit her teeth in frustration. 2 in the afternoon. How did so much sleep feel like so little?

‘MJ where are you?’

‘MJ are you coming to school’

‘MJ it’s second period.’

‘MJ answer me I’m panicking.’

She sighed fondly at her phone, and had just enough energy to type ‘I’m alright, Loser, just sick’ before slipping back into slumber.

::::

‘Who the fuck,’ she thought with a grumble as she wrapped the blankets around her shoulders and begrudgingly trudged to the door, from which a relentless pounding was emanating. ‘I swear if it’s anyone other than Peter freaking Parker, I’m going to commit homicide. And if it is him-’

“Um…hey, it’s Peter Parker.” A hesitant voice called out from behind her front door.

‘-I’m gonna commit suicide.’ Mustering her most annoyed face, she opened a crack in the door and peaked out.

“How’d you know where I live?” She glared.

It seemed to work, as his frame visibly shrank.

“Um…I’m Spider-man?”

She narrowed her eyes further. This was too easy and too much fun.

“And you use your genetically enhanced abilities and multi-million-dollar suit to stalk me?”

“What?? No!” Liar.

“Geez relax, I was kidding,” she sniffed, pulling back and opening the door for him to enter. His eyes immediately started to shine like stars and she had to hold her smile back. “What’d you come here for anyways?”

“I got some tea for you,” he gulped, reaching into his backpack for a package of tea leaves that he’d probably swung an hour south for. “After I heard you were sick I-”

“You mean after I texted you,” she interrupted, staring at him straight in the eyes.

“Ok, yeah after you texted m-”

“After you bombed my phone with 23 calls and 317 texts.” Her gaze was unwavering. This was definitely too easy.

“I was worried!” He argued. “I’ve never seen you miss school and-”

“While I was asleep.” She could see his cheeks flush as his eyes darted around, looking at anything but her face. Why do you have to be so delightfully adorable when you’re nervous, Peter Parker?

She watched the clogs in his brain work furiously to find an exit from this predicament while she inwardly chuckled. Finally, he gingerly offered the bag of tea to her, smiling shyly. “I got you a book too,” he tried.

She counted to 15, and savoured the look of his conviction slowly diminishing before she rolled her eyes, sighed and let him in.

“What book is it?” She asked, bolting the door and shuffling to the couch – dear God her head was still hurting – and snatched the tea from his outstretched hand.

“Oh it was this tea book that the lady at the store recommended,” he fumbled and pulled it out. “It was on sale and it’s where I knew what tea to buy for a cold. Also the authors name is Mary Jane, but that’s also MJ, so I-” oh dear Peter Parker you wonderful idiot.

“That’s my book.”

“Um, I know,” Peter replied, raising an eyebrow questioningly. “I’m giving it to you.”

“No,” you idiot. She took a breath. “I wrote that book.” At his bewildered silence, she rolled her eyes. “I’m Mary Jane, okay? I couldn’t very put Michelle Jones as the author of a tea book, or everyone’s gonna think it’s a detective novel.”

Silence. It was deafening, and Michelle struggled not to break it. Now her cover was definitely ruined. He was definitely going to laugh and her reputation as the resident hard-ass and–

“You wrote a tea book??” Peter finally squeaked.

“Wow, that’s your takeaway from this?” She rolled her eyes.

“And it’s a bestseller!”

“I’m well aware, thank you very much.”

“Can I have an autograph?”

MJ froze. “Excuse me?” Her hope that he was joking turned to ash when she turned and saw his bright eyes sparkling again. Even glaring at him didn’t work – possibly because of her state of health.

“I mean,” oh Peter. “I’m sure if you’ve written one bestseller you’re gonna write many more in the future,” you magnificent loser. “And since you wrote the book I’m not gonna give it to you, and if I had an autograph I could brag that I was the first to get it.” No human being has the right to be that cute. Go reflect on your actions, Spider-man.

Count to ten, she counselled herself. Fill the kettle. Put it on the stove and turn it on. Grab a sharpie. Count to ten again before you say something you regret.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she muttered. Well fuck you too, brain.

“Wha-what?” He seemed to choke on the frog in his mouth. Ah fuck he heard me.

“I said, ‘you’re lucky I love the tea.’ Now gimme the book.” She replied without missing a beat. As impulsive as her brain had been recently, it had not slowed down any. It might have been increasingly active, if anything. She’d have to mentally prepare herself for these sort of situations when he’d left. But how was one supposed to be prepared for Peter Blessed Parker?

“Ri-right,” he handed her the book, but his mind seemed a million miles away. This was bad. Did she break him?

“You’re such a Loser,” She signed hastily.

“Here you go, Loser,” she grumbled.

“Thanks,” he smiled, returning to Earth. Was that fondness in his smile? He stared at it for a minute before blinking. “Oh yeah I’ve got some homework for you from Chem and some class notes from History today.” He pulled the respective worksheets from his bag as he stuffed the tea book back in. “Ned says hi, but he couldn’t come cuz he has to help his mum cook.”

“Hmm,” She hummed. She took the stuff from him before plopping on the couch and studying them intently. Or she tried. Even as she glared at the words on her paper, the only space left in her brain from her headache were occupied by the adorable Spiderling sitting across from her.  

“Anyways I’d love to stay and try the tea but I really gotta go,” Peter spoke up, getting up. “Cuz I gotta get some web hours in before dinner tonight.”

“Oh um, ok,” MJ looked up, trying her hardest not to seem disappointed, before something struck her as unacceptable. “Hold up, did you really just say ‘web hours’?”

“Yep see you get well soon bye!!” He chirped and closed the front door behind him, leaving a stunned MJ with a stack of papers in her left hand and a cup of tea in her right. She couldn’t go back to sleep.

Previous Chapter: Here

Next Chapter: Here

Masterlist: Here

Tags: @you-guys--are-losers​ @spideychelleforever​ @spideychelleee​ @spidermaninlove​ @tonystarkissist​ @spideychellefics​ @spiderxboy @spideychelle-4-ever @spideyxchelle @thespideychellelibrary @here-be-spideychelle 

[randomtothecore-blr]

Being Adrien Agreste.

For @ladynoirjuly2020  (Cuddles)

Please don’t mind me popping out of nowhere and leaving this one-shot here. Just Chat Noir getting the love he deserves from his lady. Take this good old piece of FLUFF. Have a nice day!

________________

Adrien was seriously exhausted.

First he had continuous practice, and might he add, in the presence of a strict and seriously pissed coach of basketball for the upcoming match. Every guy in the class was exhausted after the long day, but momentarily happy because they could later go home and sleep their asses off. At least that was what Nino said he would do; it was only plausible that others would be doing the same.

But Adrien Agreste couldn't, no sir.

After school he was directly shoved into his other routines which included his Chinese Gibberish, Piano Crap-a-Trap, Fencing-Non Sensing, and lots of unnecessary Photo-Shits.

There were at least five shifts (five shifts!) in that photo-shoot, rendering the blond tired and completely exhausted in the end along with the complaints from the cameraman that 'it wasn't good enough', but Adrien was droopy more than pissed to snap at the guy that there was so much a person could do after five hours of sports, and two hours of constant standing.

And since his eyes were stinging and it was hard for him to keep them open, every job was becoming increasingly hard to complete. He felt his eyes burn so much that he was afraid they might wither and shrink in the sockets. Adrien regretted using his phone all night, trying to once act like a normal and rebellious teen to stay up all night. He should've known that one can only do such things when they are... normal.

And now that he was trying to sit in the back seat and his eyes instantly landed on someone that was most definitely an Akuma, Adrien cursed under his breath. As if on cue, his muscles started to ache in every part of his body, his every joint hurting and his head throbbing and his eyes burning. Adrien still sighed and got back out of the car, ignoring his assistant's questioning gaze. He didn't even bother to give an excuse and jogged somewhere safe.

Adrien peaked at the villain causing havoc everywhere and found out he was an athlete. The blond actually growled, causing even his kwami, the god of destruction, to squirm in his jacket.

"Claws out."

Chat Noir exercised his muscles a bit. Stretched his legs. Jogged. Cracked his knuckles. Slapped his face a few times. But the tiredness remained. The droopy eyed black cat glanced at the Akuma again. It seemed like he was one of those villains that always exhausted the heroes and extended the fight longer than necessary. Chat Noir groaned again.

He. Just. Wanted. To. Fucking. Sleep.

He saw a tiny red figure out there, now fighting the villain that called itself Destructeur. 

Ladybug.

It wasn't until she let out a startled yell at the blow in her stomach that Chat Noir's eyes snapped open to full alert and he jumped into action.

He bent down in front of the heroine as she sat up and rubbed her abdomen in annoyance. "Where were you?!" She all but exclaimed in frustration.

Chat Noir smiled despite himself. Her demeanor always managed to lift his spirits, no matter how bitter she could be.

"Oh, I was just chilling, bugaboo." Ladybug groaned as Chat Noir looked up at the villain that had gone nuts, "Well, aren't we in a cat-astrophic situation."

Ladybug stood up, readying her yoyo, "The only situation I'll be in will be kick-asstrophic. Let's get this over with, Chaton." She ran forward as Chat blinked. And then he barked out a laugh.

The plan, according to Ladybug, was to distract the villain as usual so that she could grab the damn obvious medal around Destructeur's neck. She couldn't help but notice something akin to... exhaustion? Flashing in her kitty's eyes before he immediately hid it and winked, dashing in the man's direction.

Ladybug frowned. She could feel that something was wrong with him, if the unsettling restlessness she felt in her heart was any indication. They were two halves of a whole, after all. And it had been a while since she found out that they could feel each other's mood shifts.

Pushing it aside to be dealt with later, Ladybug ran towards the villain as well, where she saw Chat Noir desperately trying to trigger and run from the raged athlete. Of course, it was a freaking athlete they were talking about. Of course that athlete had to tire them from all the running and fighting. If even Ladybug was exhausted, one could only guess what Chat Noir was going through.

But he still pushed himself forward, his muscles aching and paining and his breath labored and mind fuzzy as he said, I can still push my strength. Just a little more. I can fight as long as I'm able to stand on my feet.

His head bobbed back countless times due to a rush of nausea, but he was not going to leave this on his Lady to deal with alone. He could feel her worrying glances in his direction every once in a while, and he tried to give her his devious smirk which she obviously didn't buy. In the end, thankfully, Desctructeur got a little tired too (Or perhaps Hawkmoth just got bored), and Ladybug took that one millisecond chance to tackle him and take his akumatized object.

Chat Noir sighed in relief as the purification followed, and willed himself to Just a little more strength. Just give Ladybug a reassuring smile and a fist bump and go home. Just. This. Little. Strength.

He got up chiding himself as Ladybug finally started coming towards him. He took a deep breath, and smiled at her. "Welp! I'm thankful that it's all wrapped up!" Why was his voice shaking? "But it's a tragedy we have to cut our meeting short now." He said as he kissed the back of her hand sloppily. Ladybug rolled her eyes, "We haven't used our powers, so we have a lot of time." She stated and then eyed him. "Are you okay, Chat?"

"What can possibly happen to this cat, Ladybug?" He said smoothly. Another rush of nausea.

They saw the reporters coming their way, and Ladybug looked at Chat Noir worriedly, "Hey, are you- CHAT?!"

In a quick motion she stepped up to get hold of an almost collapsing Chat Noir in her strong arms. Her heart beat was erratic at what she had witnessed; his eyes had rolled back as he fell forward, and if she hadn't caught him he would've been lying sprawled on the ground. And it didn't help that he was shaking. And she could tell how bad it was because he was putting all his weight on her.

"Chaton, what happened?" Utter shock worry laced her voice. Chat Noir only shook his head, his eyes closed. As the press drew near, Ladybug quickly shouted an apology to them and, ignoring their worried questions about the black-clad hero, she zipped out with Chat Noir in her arm.

"Chat Noir, please tell me you're okay. Please. Speak to me!" She hyperventilated. She landed on a roof nearby, letting him lie down in her lap as she caressed his face. "Kitty, what happened? Please say something!" Being herself, she was already imagining all type of worst scenarios; him having a terminal disease, dying, going into a coma, becoming mentally unstable-

"Tired..." He croaked out, and Ladybug released a long relieved sigh while ignoring his offended expression.

"Don't get me wrong," Ladybug started, "You got me really worried. I thought it was something serious."

"This is serious..." Chat Noir groaned as he leaned into her warm body, pressing his head to her chest where he could hear her heartbeat, making him smile. 

So... warm.

Ladybug sighed or hummed in understanding, wrapping her arms around his frame to cradle him like a child, a fond and sympathetic smile on her lips. "You deserve a rest, kitty."

So...Calming.

Chat Noir sniffed with closed eyes, taking in Ladybug's scent and Ladybug's hands around him and Ladybug's soothing voice and just Ladybug. Was she... was she humming?

He felt her pet his hair slowly and deliciously as he stifled a moan of delight. This was heaven.

So...amazing.

He was blushing. He knew he was with the heat in his face and ears. But he couldn't bring himself to care as he hugged the Lady of his dreams tighter.

So... comforting.

So...

Ladybug felt a snore escape from the cat in her arms, smiling fondly at his sleeping form. She knew Chat Noir was an extremely energetic person who always pushed himself to never get tired. So if he was in such a state, Ladybug knew better than to wake him up. So she sang him a lullaby, rocked him slowly, gave him all the comfort she could right there, knowing she couldn't do anything else because of their identities.

Chat Noir was out worse than she thought. She was sure that if she slapped him he wouldn't wake up still. This just made her feel sorry for him even more. Ladybug placed a soft kiss on his cheek, cupping his sleeping face as she studied his peaceful features and that small smile lingering on his lips. She placed another kiss on his temple.

"Good kitty." She cooed.

She traced her finger from his forehead to his cheek, then down to his chin, her eyes trailing the movement. She leaned her head closer to study his face. Ladybug always thought that Chat Noir looked way too handsome for his own good, but she couldn’t help but admit that up close he looked like an angel; peaceful and ethereal with his glowing, flawless skin. Her curious blue eyes raked his face, until she realized that she was brushing her thumb over his lower lip. As his hot breath fanned her own lips, Ladybug jerked back with a start at their proximity.

Wow, she’d really leaned closer to him without realizing. Her eyes looked at his closed eyelids, and she couldn’t help herself but lightly peck both of them, eliciting a soft mewl out of him. A fond smile found her lips. She hugged him just a bit more tightly.

“My selfless chaton.”

________________________

BONUS:

Plagg: She kissed you on the cheek.

Adrien: W-What?!? She did? When I was asleep?

Plagg: AnD sHe GaVe YoU a WhOLe LoT oF kiiiiiisssesss aNd looooooovee aFtErwArDs~

Adrien: P-Plagg, please elaborate! How many? And w-where?

Plagg: I'll leave that a secret, 'good kitty'~

Adrien: PLAGG NO YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME IN THE DARK LIKE THAT-

[peteywillproceed]

Ice Cream

Author’s Note: Helllloooooooo everybody! I just want to say I so appreciate all the love over the past few days, you’re all incredibly sweet! This was actually originally part of a longer fanfic I wrote a really long time ago, which I started playing around with again yestereday. I’m thinking of turning that one into a series, but for now I thought I’d post this! I’m sorry if it’s totally crappy lol, enjoy x

Summary: After breaking up with your boyfriend, you’re feeling completely miserable until your best friend pops round with ice cream. (because this used to be a part of a bigger fanfic, I changed up the ending a little bit to make it more fluffy :) )

Word Count: 1,999 (lol)

It was warm in the living room, an old re-run of Friends echoing softly from the TV screen as you drifted in and out of a hazy sleep. Your eyelids felt heavy and ached to close, but the stress of the day kept them from getting what they wanted. Your heart was filled with a painful sadness, and no amount of blankets, hot chocolate, and flashes of Joey Tribbiani’s face could keep you from remembering your boyfriend’s face just hours earlier.

Sure, you’d only been with Aaron a couple of months, but hearing him try to tell you he thought you were better off seeing other people still hurt like a bitch. Even worse, you thought today was going to be good for once – he was taking you to the beach, a day of reading and relaxing whilst the rarely seen English sun warmed your shoulders. And then he’d just come out with it, right there in the car park, when you’d been only inches from paradise and you’d just gotten out of the car and walked away. He hadn’t even bothered coming after you.

Suddenly, the front door to the flat slammed, jolting you from the sofa in shock. Heavy feet pounded against the carpet, belonging to the person you were so used to traipsing through the place so regularly you’d given him his own key. Voice still thick with sleep, you called out into the hall.

“Tom? Is that you?”

“Yep, darling, where are you?” he called back. You so desperately wanted to laugh as he walked into your cabinet and cursed, but you couldn’t find the energy in your heart.

“Living room,” you called back miserably, flopping back into the sofa. “If you can find me under the piles of blankets.”

“Huh?” His voice was filled with confusion “Y/n did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed again?”

Under normal circumstances, you would have laughed and thrown the pillow at his stupid head. But the thought of any kind of happy sound leaving your lips seemed to far away, and instead you ignored your best friend’s half-hearted attempts at a joke.

Suddenly, his head popped round the door frame, a big smile splashed across his face no doubt caused by some good day on set. When his eyes found yours, it slid away, and you hated causing him worry, the two familiar grooves appearing in his forehead when he saw what state you were in.

“Darling?” he inched towards you “what’s wrong?”

“Aaron broke up wiv me,” you mumbled against the pillow, choking back sobs.

“He what?” Tom frowned, leaning closer.

“I said he broke up with me!” You snapped, instantly feeling bad.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, sorry I snapped. It’s just been a really shit day.”

“Mmm, I bet,” Tom fell to the floor and crossed his legs, perching in front of your squished face and peeling the blanket back slightly from your tacky skin. “I thought you said he was taking you to the beach?”

“He was, he broke up with me in the car.”

“Asshole!”

“It’s arse hole, Thomas,” you rolled your eyes and he scoffed.

“It’ll be whatever I fucking want it to be the guy’s a twat – why did he think the car was a good place to do it?”

“I don’t know,” you whimpered, feeling the tears come racing back “I honestly don’t want to talk about it.”

Tom sighed, stroking your hair. “Oh darling.”

That was when you lost it, fresh tears streaming down your face and soaking the already sopping pillow. Huge, ugly sobs erupted from deep within your chest as you struggled to control your breathing, mentally urging yourself to get a grip. Sure, Tom had seen you a lot worse than this, but you’d only been with Aaron a few months, and you felt stupid reacting like this, like your life was entirely over.

It was just - it hurt.

It hurt so god damn fucking bad and there wasn’t a thing you could do about it.

You’d really liked him, and even now with Tom’s strong arms wrapped around your body, rubbing soothing circles into your back, you could still picture his face as he broke up with you. It seemed like you’d meant nothing to him in that moment, just an annoyance saved into his phone contacts that could be deleted without worry. And maybe that was what hurt the most, finding out that you were just another girl, and not the one like he had promised.

“You know, it’s gonna hurt like shit but it’s not the end,” Tom murmured into your hair, gently kissing the top of your head.

“I know that Tom I’m not psycho!”

“I know, darling, but it’s easy to start feeling like you mean nothing to them, and you have to remember that isn’t true.”

“Stop reading my mind, creep,” you choked out, a half strangled laugh that Tom seemed pleased to have gotten out of you.

“See? You’re still laughing, you’re still breathing, it’ll all be okay.” His fingers gently slid down your arm, interlacing with your fingers. It was probably the cold, but goosebumps quickly rose to the surface and sent tingling sensations through your nerves.

You went quiet, the only sound the strangled cry of your ragged breathing. For a few moments, you just stared at your interlocked fingers, tracing the way Tom’s massive hands curled around yours. He seemed distant, staring at the wall of your flat with a glassy look in his eyes. “Tom?” you asked, and he snapped his head to look at you.

“Yeah?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“You mean other than the fact I’m going to kill the shit head next time I see him?” He shook his head, tightening his grip in yours. “I dunno, just that it kills me not being able to fix this.”

“I don’t think it needs fixing,” you sighed “if he’s this much of an arse hole it’s better I find out now than ten years down the line when I have kids with him.”

“You wanted kids with him?” Tom’s sharp intake of breath startled you, and you looked at him like he was crazy.

“No, idiot, I was only with him for like three months. I was just making an analogy.”

“Oh. Right.” Tom nodded, pursing his lips and lightly brushing his fingers over your cheek. “Sorry, I just assumed you’d been together longer.”

“Why?” you raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t like you’d flaunted your relationship, but Tom had been with you all those nights in the club when you’d be drunk off your arse and flirting with every guy in the vicinity. He’d always been the one to pull you away, he should know you’d been single then.

He shrugged, fiddling with his fingers. “Oh, it’s nothing, just something Haz said a long time ago.” You frowned deeper and he seemed to notice your confusion. “Honestly, Y/n, it’s nothing. He just put something in my head he shouldn’t have done.”

You nodded, still not feeling any clearer, but you had enough to deal with without worrying about your best friend’s misinterpretations. Drawing a shaky breath, you squeezed his hand tighter. “Want some ice cream?”

“Is that what’s going to make this better for you?” Tom chuckled.

“Absolutely.”

You moved to stand up, stopping as he reached to grab your arm and pulled you back down. For the first time, you noticed he had a bag at his feet, and he leant down to fish around in it, reappearing with one massive tub of Ben and Jerry’s and two equally large spoons.

“How did you know?” You laughed, gobsmacked as he opened the pot.

“Well we were going to spend the evening together anyway and I figured it would be a hundred times better with ice cream!”

“Wow,” you muttered, diving in head first and mumbling through your first mouthful “this is so good!”

“Yeah? It’s…Fish Food?” Tom read the name off the box and you giggled at his confused expression.

“Phish Food, actually Thomas, but I’ll let you off.”

He rolled his eyes, jabbing his spoon in your direction and coating your nose in gooey marshmallow. With mock outrage, you countered the attack, smearing caramel over his cheek, and then it descended into chaos as he tried to get you back. You only stopped your little fight when a loud bang echoed through the flat, and you looked down and groaned at the sight of ice cream all over your carpet.

“Shit, Y/n, I’m so sorry!” Tom leapt to his feet, but you could hardly contain your laughter.

“Oh don’t be, it’s probably the least shit thing that’s happened today!”

Tom sighed, scooping the fallen ice cream back into the pot as you watched from your seat on the sofa. He seemed tired, broad back hunched over and face taught with tension. Suddenly, you had the overwhelming urge to reach out and smooth away the frown lines covering his face, and his head snapped up at your actions.

“Sorry,” you murmured, dropping your hand, but his eyes never left yours. Deep pools of chocolate stared at you, and you couldn’t pinpoint what you saw in them because it seemed like a thousand thoughts swirled inside them. At last, he reached out for your nose with your thumb, and swiped away the last remaining fleck of ice cream.

“You had some ice cream on you,” he smirked, and you rolled your eyes, catching his wrist in your hand. With a yank, you pulled him forwards more harshly than you intended to, and he had to brace himself against the sofa to stop him collapsing into you.

“Oops,” you grinned, heart fluttering a little, sending a wave of shock through you. Brushing it off, you wiped away the huge slather of creamy caramel covering his cheek and winked. “You had some ice cream on you, too.”

Tom pursed his lips, and you felt the burning sensation of his gaze as he traced it across your face. Your body suddenly ached to be closer to him, and you barely had time to wonder how you’d gone from miserable to vaguely horny in a matter of minutes. Your heart pounded in your chest as his eyes dropped to your lips, and you realised what was happening.

He was moving towards you, eyes fluttering closed and lips parting and in a millisecond more thoughts ran through your mind than they had ever done at any other point in your life. Were you ready for this? He was your best friend, what the hell did this even mean? Would it change anything? Of course it would, but how did you feel about that? Initially, you balked at the idea of kissing the guy you’d know for almost twenty years. But as he was moving closer to you the heat from his body began to course through yours, and you wondered just what those lips felt like.

Soft. Soft was the answer. And as they crashed into yours, the doubts you’d had melted away, as Tom slowly gathered you into his arms and kissed you more gently than anyone else had done in your life. It sent tingles racing to the tips of your fingers and flutters to your toes, the sensations overwhelming and overstimulating all at once.

But as you lost yourself in the kiss, you barely noticed the darkening sky outside or the tissues littering the floor from a day spent crying. Here, with Tom, none of that existed; maybe you would face the consequences later, but for now you were just enjoying the weight of his chest and the scent of vanilla on his skin. The way his lips moving in sync with yours and the sounds of his light breaths against your ear.

And as you broke apart, both panting and surprised, you bit your lip and licked away the taste of ice cream on your tongue, feeling lighter than you’d ever done before.

Taglist

@zabdisamor @jinxfanfics

[millie-ionaire05]

Saudade - Ot7 | 11 (End)

Ot7 BTS

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Rating: M (Mature)

word count: 2,439

Trigger Warnings: Hospitalization (rehab, mental institute). Mental health issues (Text Reason to 741741 if you need to reach out for help). Insinuated M x M (if you squint hard enough). Substance abuse (alcohol, pills | call 1-800-662-4357 if you are dealing with this). Weapons (gun, knife). Smoking (cigarettes, weed). Mentions of suicide/attempted suicide (National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255). Violence (murder/attempted murder). Mentions of blood. Mentions of therapy sessions (these are not accurate representations, please leave it to proper professionals). Mentions of physical abuse (Call 1-800-799-7233 if you are dealing with domestic violence) WE DO NOT GLORIFY THESE WARNINGS/TRIGGERS; THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY, AND DOES NOT RELATE TO ANY OF THE MEMBERS. IF YOU ARE DEALING WITH ANY OF THESE, PLEASE REACH OUT TO YOUR LOCAL AUTHORITIES FOR ASSISTANCE, OR THE NUMBERS LISTED ABOVE.

↤ Previous | 11

February 3rd, 2018

   The sun was starting to set when Jungkook pulled into the parking garage of his apartment complex, the lights dimly illuminating the parked cars. Hoseok had been hiding out there on and off for the past two weeks, only running home to shower and put fresh clothes before rushing back and seeing if his friend had finally shown up. His attempt to confront Jungkook at the hospital backfired when the nurses stated he wasn’t allowed visitors. But Hoseok was cunning, and worked his skilled Gwangju tongue on the adorable nurse at the desk, who was quick to spill all of the dirty secrets.

   While she had freely given most of the secrets involving his younger friend, she didn’t have the answer to when he was allowed visitors, but she did reveal his release date. That was all Hoseok needed, and he quickly passed her a fake phone number before leaving the place, afraid he would run into either Namjoon or Yoongi.

   His conversation with Yoongi played in his head over and over again for the two weeks it took Jungkook to finally show up. He’d half expected to see cops pull up and arrest him for owning an illegal weapon, but the other half of him knew Yoongi wouldn’t dare let the cops be involved if it meant outing whatever secret he and Namjoon had with each other. Hoseok hadn’t even known Jungkook was involved until a tearful conversation with Jimin, the magenta haired man looking completely distraught and revealing Jungkook had been in the same room. It was that same day that Jimin whimpered his plea in wanting to know what really happened that night, and Hoseok had silently promised him that he would find out.

   Stepping out of his car, he slowly approaches the younger man whose dark hair had grown all the way to his cheek bones, observing as Jungkook moves to his passenger side before pulling out a box. Hoseok has half a mind to grab him and forcefully make him talk, but he also feared that would just bring his friend back into a semi-catatonic state, and he had no patience in waiting for his answers.

   Jungkook didn’t realize Hoseok was standing there until the older friend was pretty much in his face, his eyes widening in fright before his bunny smile lights up his face. He practically drops the box back into his car before throwing his hands around his friend, a shocked Hoseok freezing in place at the sudden onslaught of affection that he was no longer used to receiving. After a moment Hoseok returns the hug, trying to ease Jungkook away from him so he can stay focused. Or at least attempt to.

   “Hyung! It’s so good to see you,” Jungkook chirps cheerfully, his hands rubbing together nervously before becoming hidden behind him. “W-what are you doing here?”

   Hoseok takes a moment to purse his lips before crooking a smile, gesturing at the stuff in his car. “I heard the good news and came to celebrate.”

   Jungkook’s eyes shake for a fraction of a second, possibly from fear, but Hoseok isn’t sure. He doesn’t have too much time to dwell on it either because his friend reaches back into the car and pulls out the box, gesturing for his hyung to follow him to the parking garage elevator.

   The silence that follows gives Hoseok a moment to regroup his thoughts as they walk towards the elevator, their steps slow and methodically echoing around them. The distance between them physically is only a mere sliver, but the emotional gap is palpably large, Hoseok’s mind racing to fill it in with conversation.

   “So, what are you going to do now that you’re out?” Hoseok probes, his hand moving to fluff up the back of his hair in nervousness.

   “Uhm…,” Jungkook starts before adjusting the box onto one hand, his other reaching out to the elevator button. “Probably look for a job. I gotta start paying back my parents somehow,” he admits sheepishly, his shoulders coming up to make him appear smaller than he actually is.

   Hoseok nods in agreement, his arm stretching out to hold the elevator doors open as the younger friend steps in. “That makes sense,” Hoseok comments before stepping into the small metal contraption as well, his fingers beginning to sweat.

   “What have you been up to, hyung?” Jungkook asks cheerily, his bunny smile growing as his eyes move towards him.

   “Uhm...well...I’ve been in rehab for a majority of the past six months. I got out about two weeks ago,” Hoseok reveals, his shoulders rising of their own accord as his own smile turns sheepish.

   “Oh wow, hyung,” Jungkook innocently throws out the term of endearment, his eyes widening at the confession. “What happened?”

   Hoseok turns an exasperated look to his friend, unsure if he was being serious or just messing with him. Hoseok realizes it was the former when the younger man continues to stare even as the elevator dings its arrival onto Jungkook’s floor and their bodies remain in their spots. The older man can’t help but let a sigh slip from his lips, a hand moving to run through his freshly dyed brown locks, frustration causing his eyebrows to come together.

   “I-I’m sorry if I’ve upset you…,” Jungkook murmurs, shifting the box in his hands.

   “It...it’s not so much upset as frustrated, Jungkook,” Hoseok admits, his hands rubbing his face before falling to his sides. “I...I thought you knew what happened to all of us after what happened that night. I thought Yoongi had kept you updated.”

   “What do you mean?” Jungkook questions, the bunny smile falling off of his face, and confusion taking its place.

   “Yoongi would visit you...I thought he had kept you updated…,” Hoseok trails off, unsure of how else to put the statement together. After a few seconds of silence, it seems to click in Jungkook’s head.

   “Yeah, Yoongi would visit, but he never talked about you guys...just about his work and sometimes Jimin,” Jungkook pouts, his eyebrows coming together. “The last I heard was Jimin wasn’t talking to him, but he didn’t tell me why.”

   Hoseok nods slowly, his frustration level reaching its peak, and he was worried he wouldn’t get the answers he was desperate to seek.

   “Look, Jungkook, I can’t lie. I didn’t come here to celebrate your release...I came here because I need answers.”

   “A-answers?” Jungkook stutters, his fingers whitening as they grip the box tighter, his body instinctively taking a step away from Hoseok’s.

   “I need to know what happened that night, Jungkook,” Hoseok demands, his sentence rushing from his lips so quickly he himself almost didn’t understand.

   “W-what do you mean, Hoseok?” Jungkook questions a solid minute later, tears pooling in his eyes. “Taehyung killed Jin...and then he killed himself.”

   Hoseok lets out a cross between a growl and a grunt of frustration, his hands moving to Jungkook’s shirt collar before he slams the younger boy against the mirror wall of the elevator. They hear the mirror crack, to which Jungkook’s eyes widen impossibly further than before, his lips quivering as a single tear rolls from his right eye.

   “That’s exactly what everyone keeps saying, Jungkook, but you know what-,” Hoseok starts, each word bringing his volume to rise until he’s shouting in the small space, “I don’t fucking believe it! Because the only people who are saying that are Namjoon and Yoongi, but you were there. You should have seen what happened! Tell me what happened, Jungkook!”

   The two of them shuffle for a second, Jungkook trying to use the box as a shield as Hoseok tries to get a better grip on the shirt, Jungkook’s cries echoing between them.

   “I-it was me!” Jungkook cries out, his hands releasing the box to allow it to collapse on the ground, a sob retching from his throat as Hoseok’s grip loosens.

   “W-what?” Hoseok starts, his fingers instinctively tightening on Jungkook’s shirt before he lets go all together. “What do you mean?”

   “It...it was me,” Jungkook sobs, the tears pouring from his eyes as his body slides down the elevator wall, his knees curling up to his chest. “I’m the one who did it.”

   Hoseok stays silent as his friend cries, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to collect his breath. What feels like an hour passes before Hoseok crouches down, his hand moving to Jungkook’s knee, unsurprised when he jumps at the contact.

   “What do you mean, Jungkookie?” Hoseok attempts to use the endearing nickname Jin-hyung had used many times in the past, and he’s surprised to see Jungkook’s head rise, the younger man’s eyes meeting his own.

   “I..I...killed Taehyung,” he sniffles, fresh tears flowing from his eyes.

   Hoseok is frozen in place, his body feeling like a ton of weights as his knees roughly hit the elevator floor, stinging from the impact. The grip he has on Jungkook’s knee that was originally for comfort, is now the only thing keeping his body up, his vision blurring at the confession.

   It takes a moment before Hoseok can break the silence. “H-how?” is all he can croak out, his eyes unwilling to meet Jungkook’s, but he can still feel his friend’s desperate stare. “Start from the beginning.”

   Jungkook lets out a breath of air before sniffling, his hands attempting to wipe his face. “I was in the kitchen doorway, listening to Jin-hyung and Tae argue…”

   “What were they arguing about, Jungkook?” Hoseok presses, his desperation at its peak and toppling over.

   “About Jin-hyung telling Namjoon that Taehyung had gotten arrested again. Hyung was trying to apologize, but Tae wasn’t having it. They were getting louder, but no one else could hear them over the music in the living room. I peeked my head in just as Jin-hyung threw a punch to Taehyung’s face, and Tae’s eyes...they looked crazy. Tae slammed hyung onto the floor and started beating him...and I wanted to stop them, but I froze. Hyung’s blood was dripping onto the floor and Taehyung looked like he was about to stop, but then he reached up to the counter and grabbed a knife. Jin choked on his blood as Tae stabbed him, and I gasped. His eyes...they were so dark and angry.

   He looked up from hyung’s body and saw me in the doorway, and I freaked. I turned and ran for the stairs, and I heard Tae behind me as Namjoon started shouting for someone to call an ambulance, but I was too scared to turn around,” Jungkook stops, his body trembling as his eyes go distant.

   Hoseok reaches out, his hands cupping Jungkook’s face in fear that the younger man won’t continue, won’t give him the answers he needs. This sends Jungkook into a panicked frenzy as he kicks out, his thick combat boot connecting with Hoseok’s stomach, causing him to wheeze at the impact. Hoseok’s hold of Jungkook’s face breaks, one of his hands going to his stomach as the other moves to Jungkook’s hand, gripping it in hopes it will help his friend.

   It seems to help, because Jungkook’s eyes meet his own, a flash of understanding causing Jungkook to stop. They sit there in silence, Jungkook attempting to collect himself, and Hoseok attempting to get a steady breath back. Hoseok doesn’t push Jungkook this time, just waits for his friend to continue on his own, even when his desperation has his body vibrating with tension.

   “I was scared, so I went into the first room I saw and hid in the closet. I couldn’t really hear anything over the music and my heartbeat. I stayed as quiet as I could, but I couldn’t help but jump when Tae opened the door and let it slammed against the wall. I peeked between the closet doors, and watched him walk around, checking under the bed before eyeing the closet. Except...he didn’t walk up to it. He had to know that I was in there, but he didn’t open the doors...instead he walked up to the window and looked outside.

   I tried to quietly step out of the closet, but I saw the knife in Taehyung’s hand, and I froze. It didn’t matter though, because Tae saw me in the reflection of the window, and he quickly turned around. He had this smirk on his face. I...I didn’t know what to do, but my body just acted on its own and I rushed him. I-I pushed him, and he went through the window and out onto the yard,” Jungkook bawls, tears running down his face with renewed fervor. “I heard someone curse behind me so I turned and saw Yoongi and Jimin standing in the doorway, but Yoongi’s hand was covering Jimin’s eyes.I pushed past them and headed straight for the bathroom, everything coming up at once.”

   Hoseok’s body tilts before his butt is firmly planted on the floor, the thump of his body weight shifting causes the elevator to bounce, but neither of them pay attention to it. Hoseok’s hands rise to grip his head, a firm pounding beginning behind his eyes.

   “I didn’t want any of you guys to be affected by what I did...so Namjoon came up with the lie. We...I...just wanted to protect you guys.”

   ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

   “Mr. Park, you have a visitor.”

   Jimin’s eyes rise from the book in his hands, his feet coming down from their spot on the chair he was resting on as his eyebrows come together in confusion. A visitor? After Hoseok had left, he hadn’t heard of Yoongi trying to visit again, not that Yoongi was still allowed to visit him. He rises from his spot and follows the petite nurse out of the common room, her steps quick as she makes her way down the hallway towards the visiting office, to which he rapidly attempts to keep up with her pace.

   Making it to the sickly yellow door, he notices that there isn’t a window, and is unsure of his feelings on being alone with whoever is on the other side. His feelings of worry are quickly dampened when the nurse opens the door and he spots Hoseok inside, the older man leaning back comfortably in one of the two chairs within the room. Jimin bounds inside and stretches his arms out, taking his friend by surprise when they wrap around his shoulders. After a moment, Hoseok forcibly pushes Jimin back, a worried expression on his face, and Jimin can’t help but mirror the expression.

   “Jimin...we need to talk.”

[nobigsecrets]

H50 Fic Recs - June

Pili ‘ana by SBG Rating: T, Words: 11, 931 When Steve and Danny are trapped in a building collapse, the only thing they have is each other to keep themselves alive until rescue comes. (Written before 4x19 aired)

I Wish My Lie Was True by @ariestaurus21 Rating: M, Words: 5,737 (Work in progress) He has to be Steve McGarrett, the hero, the Navy SEAL, the indestructible man. That’s the only thing he knows how to be. Except... He’s not that man anymore. His body isn’t that man’s anymore, even if his mind is. And the whole shtick about pain being just a state of mind? Doesn’t work so well after being shot up by a .50 cal and having a vital organ ripped to shreds, removed and replaced by someone else’s and being zapped by radiation barely eight months later when you took six weeks to convalesce when you should have taken six months. So, right now, he doesn’t know how to be who he is, who he's supposed to be. He doesn’t really know who or what he is anymore, but one thing’s for damn sure, he’s completely, totally wrung out, physically, mentally, emotionally, which is why he’s still crying into his pillow, like he hasn’t done since he was a little kid, while Danny rubs his back and sings him a fucking lullaby.

Down the rabbit hole (Or: Hop to it) by @five-wow Rating: T, Words: 5,652 “So, hypothetically,” Danny says, tone clipped, “you’d totally help me get rid of a body, right?” Steve, still living in a state of blissful ignorance at this time, laughs and shifts the phone to his other ear the better to rummage through the fridge. “Who’d you kill, Danno?” “I’m taking that as a yes,” Danny informs him. “I’m at Stan’s. I’ll expect you here in eight minutes.”

Of the Cracks in the Crystal Bowl by ChiaCat Rating: E, Words: 19,471 It starts with Catherine showing up on Steve’s doorstep asking for help. Which of course leads to Danny tagging along so Steve won’t get his dumbass self killed. But after a harrowing mission Danny is confronted with some hard truths that make him question just what exactly Steve means to him.

In case of emergency by randomeliza (Link goes to LiveJournal) Rating: G, Words: ~800 In case of emergency, go bug Danny, apparently.

For the Ladies by KatieComma Rating: E, Words: 4,588 Mid-episode 625. Steve pretends to be a pilot, Danny his mechanic, to convince a drug dealer that they will fly in his merchandise. Steve looks really good dressed up in his coveralls working on that plane... Danny takes a LOT of notice and maybe says something stupid.

recognize and be recognized by icoulddothisallday Rating: G, Words: 1,753 Steve loves Grace, but he doesn’t get her the way that he gets Charlie. Charlie and he are cut from the same cloth.

Love and pancakes by @missslothy Rating: T, Words: 4,059 Pancakes served with love always make the world look like a better, happier place. This started off as simple fluff. As usual I ended up adding angst. Sorry about that. There is a happy ending though :)

Eyes As Blue As The Ocean by @cowandcalf Rating: E, Words: 19,860 (Work in progress) Spring Break was over, and Steve immediately spotted the new student on his first day back at school. The new guy was slouching in his chair and sitting bored in the back row of Steve's classroom. He didn't seem to care what anyone might think about him. He was brilliant at football, he sucked at chemistry, but he surfed like a champ and cursed like a sailor. His name was Danny and he had the bluest eyes Steve had ever seen. Steve was unprepared for the way his heart lurched in his chest whenever he spotted Danny and that happened way too often. He experienced more than once what a quick-tempered hothead Danny could be. And Danny had this special way of looking at him until Steve had to turn his head away with his heart thumping in his chest. (High School AU)

Dating? by @halevetica Rating: n/a, Words: 1,319 The team is trying to figure out if Steve and Danny are dating but they're not having much luck.

Catch Me When I Fall by @stellagioia Rating: T, Words: 5,457 Part seven of the "Rescue Me" series. Steve, Danny and a bank robbery.

Somewhere out of context and beyond all consequences by @five-wow Rating: T, Words: 3,151 Danny leans a shoulder against the side of the vending machine, hands jammed in his pockets. He lasts a whole three seconds ─ he’s satisfied with that; could be worse, considering how jittery this place makes him ─ before he demands, “You mad at me?”  “No,” Steve flatly tells the vending machine. “Why’d you think that?” Or: Steve and Danny are at a hospital, and for once, neither of them is dying. They (don’t) talk. (Coda to 9x25)

Collateral Damage by SBG Rating: T, Words: 6,303 Both of them are broken in different ways and also in the exact same way. (Coda to 4x19)