#sometimes I watch this episode then just stare at a wall for a little bit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gimmethatagustd · 3 months

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love song (2) | kth + pjm

After a surprise collaboration that shocked their fans, broke records, and earned them a Grammy, salacious rapper V and sweetheart idol Jimin are the duo the music industry didn’t know it needed but now can’t live without. Fans just have one burning question: Are V and Jimin dating?

○ Pairing: Rapper!Taehyung x Idol!Jimin

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: A/B/O, idols/musicians (not canon/BTS), friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, smut, fluff, light angst

○ Word Count: 9,579

○ Warnings: Very sexual language, scenting, technically non-consensual kissing (TH doesn't ask for permission, but he picks up the ✨ vibes ✨ )

○ Notes: Shout out to the lovely anons and moots who sent me their horny thoughts to use as the thirst tweets in this chapter. Idk what I would do without y'all. 🤭 If you want an ✨ immersive ✨ experience, I recommend watching Jackson Wang’s BuzzFeed Thirst Tweets episode to get a feel for Taehyung’s vibe during the scene, and DPR IAN’s for Jimin’s vibe. Also, I acknowledge the current strike for Palestine until June 22. Based on what I've seen, the strike is specifically for Twitter, but I wanted to do my part on Tumblr by bringing attention to it. You can learn more here.

○ Post Date: June 18, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? The series playlist

Series Masterlist

The morning sun casts bright flickers of pale orange light across the dance studio’s hardwood floor. Jimin’s bare feet chase the light streaks and dots as they stomp and twist, carrying his body along the length of the room. He told his entertainment company he wouldn’t re-sign his contract as a solo artist if they didn’t give him a dance studio with natural lighting. So many studios at the company’s headquarters are windowless — soulless if you ask Jimin. The K-pop industry can feel like a prison sometimes; Jimin doesn’t want his dance studio to feel the same.

Today, Jimin is thankful for the natural lighting for another reason.

"I think I've finally got it down," Taehyung says, running his hand through his sweaty bangs.

His hair falls limply over his forehead as he drops his arm and gazes at his reflection in the mirrored studio wall. His dark brown eyes glow amber in the sunlight, and Jimin swears he sees little sparkles dancing in them.

“Sort of,” Hoseok stands beside Taehyung with his hands on his hips and a deep frown that would make even the most confident dancer anxious. “I’m honestly shocked at how well you’ve memorized the movements, but you’re still stiff. You need to loosen up a bit.”

Unphased by Hoseok’s critical stare, Taehyung pushes up the short sleeve of his t-shirt to expose more of his bicep as he flexes in the mirror. The veins in the back of his hand and up his forearm pop with each flex of his muscles. He’s pink in the cheeks, and his white shirt is soaked with sweat, making the fabric cling to his defined chest.

As an alpha, Taehyung's frame is naturally larger than Jimin and Hoseok’s, particularly with how broad his shoulders and chest are. His recent obsession with weightlifting has only exacerbated that.

Not that Jimin has noticed or anything. He certainly hasn’t been paying attention to Taehyung’s physique; there’s no reason for him to.

“Taehyung,” Hoseok scolds, his floral omega scent spiking with a charcoal bitterness, “Pay attention.”

“Gimme a break, alright? I’m sweating my fucking ass off.”

“I thought you said dancing would be easy?” Jimin grins, catching Taehyung’s eye through the mirror.

Rolling his eyes, Taehyung stalks off toward the dance studio’s exit, where the trio has left their bags. When Taehyung pulls a water bottle from his backpack, Hoseok pauses the music playing through the studio speakers.

“Let’s take a break?” Hoseok adjusts the headband that keeps his silver hair out of his face and gives Jimin and Taehyung a hard stare.

"I'm fine," Taehyung insists after clearing his throat, yet he flops on the floor anyway.

Taehyung sits with his legs spread, the loose fabric of his basketball shorts riding up his thighs, which are muscular in an effortless alpha way Jimin has to work hard to accomplish for himself as an omega. He doesn't break eye contact with Jimin through the mirror when he sips his water bottle, and his throat bobs when he swallows.

Averting his eyes, Jimin focuses on his own reflection.

"You were actually doing pretty well. Hyung is right, though. The main problem truly is that you’re stiff. You’re not letting the music guide you," Jimin says.

"I know," Taehyung groans, tilting his head back. Jimin notices the V of his jawline and shoves the thought aside. "I keep fucking overthinking it."

"That's the thing about dancing. You have to get to the point where you can turn your brain off."

"My brain is always turned off, Chim."

Jimin catches Taehyung's cheeky grin in his peripheral vision. Rolling his eyes, he tries to twist his body so he can't see Taehyung through the mirror anymore.

"You're annoying."

"I know."

Taehyung is smug as he takes another sip of water, eyes crinkled and cheeks full. Like little dumplings or loaves of bread, Taehyung is sometimes a squishy kind of cute.

Or maybe Jimin is merely hungry.

Hoseok snorts and bends to stretch his legs, letting his arms hang and his knuckles graze the floor.

“I don’t know what kind of mating ritual you guys are doing, but can you shut up?” Hoseok’s voice is muffled by gravity pulling his t-shirt forward into his face as he stretches, “We’ve got, like, no time to dick around.”

"Don't be ridiculous," Jimin says in a flustered rush.

Jimin struggles to wrap his fingers around Hoseok's phone, desperately trying to restart the music. His hands are clammy from sweat, not nerves, of course.

Hoseok scoffs, his frown contrasting with Taehyung’s cheeky smile.

“It’s the two of you being ridiculous.”

“You’re so grumpy today,” Taehyung follows with a silent, toothy laugh when Hoseok sticks his tongue out at him.

“I’m tired of teaching children.”

Something twists in the pit of Jimin’s stomach, and tendrils wiggle into his limbs, making them shaky. It gets worse when Taehyung eyes him through the mirror again. Mating rituals are outdated these days, mainly something older people reminisce about, but the way Taehyung looks at him as he passes his water bottle for Jimin to drink from feels like the part of courting meant to prove one’s proficiency at being a caregiver.

Jimin presses his lips to the bottle’s rim, molding them right where Taehyung’s lips had been.

He’s pretty sure he’s going insane.

It’s nearly lunchtime when Hoseok leaves. He’s preparing for his own solo comeback and has limited time to train his children. Despite the loving insult, Jimin is appreciative of his friend’s support. Hoseok is his day one, the first friend he made back in his rookie days when he was just a little kid from Busan, with a thick accent and something to prove.

His satoori is still there sometimes when he’s angry or sleepy. Still, despite being an omega, he doesn’t feel the pressure to be someone he isn’t anymore just to establish himself as a successful artist in the music industry. Whatever that means.

Now, Jimin can pirouette circles around these big-name alphas in the music industry, drunk, with his eyes closed, and still look pretty doing it.

“What argument are you winning right now?”

Blinking, Jimin meets Taehyung’s eyes in the mirror. He’s on the floor again, this time scrolling through his phone. Without Hoseok here to scold him, Taehyung becomes easily distracted.

“What?” Jimin scrunches his eyebrows, and Taehyung grins.

“You’ve got that look on your face when you’re bitching someone out inside your head. What did I do wrong this time?”

“Oh my god,” Jimin rolls his eyes, “Can you get up and practice?”

Taehyung may need a break, but Jimin doesn't. He watches his form in the mirror as he continues dancing, effortlessly falling back into place as the music playing through the studio speakers guides his body.

Unlike the music videos for dreamscape and other K-pop groups, the “Hurt So Good” music video doesn’t heavily focus on dancing. Most of the dancing will involve Jimin and Taehyung mirroring each other’s movements, with only a few short sections requiring them to dance together. Still, it’s enough for Jimin to recruit Hoseok to help train Taehyung.

Hardly any choreography can trip Jimin up. With muscular thighs that pull at his sweatpants and a toned stomach that peeks out with each movement of his arms, Jimin feels powerful when he dances. He has had dance practice nearly every day for the past ten years. Those ten years have given Jimin an enviable level of poise, each movement fluid but still striking, like the slither of a snake.

He shouldn't falter, yet he finds faults in his form now that he hadn't the day before when he reviewed the dance with his personal choreographer one-on-one.

The mirrored wall makes it nearly impossible to avoid catching Taehyung in Jimin's sightline. Despite his expert focus, Jimin's skin prickles with the warmth of Taehyung's gaze burning into him. He's grateful for the air conditioning blasting cold hair hard enough to occasionally ruffle his hair when he dances underneath the vent. Hopefully, any errant changes in his vanilla scent are quickly swept away.

It's strange; Jimin is accustomed to being observed. He wonders if the remnants of his heat are raising his temperature, though it has been nearly a week since it ended.

“You’re so good,” Taehyung comments, his voice low enough that Jimin almost doesn’t hear him over the music.

Ignoring the spike of heat Taehyung’s words ignite in the pit of his stomach, Jimin ends the song and sits on the floor. He spreads his legs and reaches for his toes in a loose stretch.

“I’d hope so, considering how long I’ve been doing this.”

“Just take the fucking compliment,” Taehyung demands, but he’s smiling as he stands up.

The yin to Jimin’s yang, Taehyung goes high when Jimin goes low. He saunters to the other side of the dance studio to inspect a small canvas bag resting against the wall.

“What’s this?” Taehyung asks, and Jimin can’t help but giggle. Taehyung looks over his shoulder at the sound, still grinning. “Park Jimin.”

“What!”

“You–” Taehyung interrupts himself by biting his bottom lip. The slow shake of his head fills Jimin with that familiar feeling of humiliation that makes the back of his neck prickle.

“Me?” Jimin doesn’t understand why he’s breathless as Taehyung picks up the canvas bag to peer inside.

“Oh, why didn’t we play with these?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow as he pulls out multiple metal chains from the bag.

Hot in the face, Jimin straightens from hunching over his phone, reviewing the videos he took of their practice session, and sets it down.

"I don't really know how I feel about using the chains as props…" Jimin says quietly.

"What do you mean?"

Taehyung remains on the opposite side of the dance studio. He wraps a long chain around both hands and tugs it, experimenting with the weight and movement when he swings it from side to side.

"It's… a lot. It's giving BDSM vibes."

Taehyung snorts. "Chim, the song is very clearly about BDSM. You have a verse about wanting to be tied down."

"By love! Besides, Namjoon hyung said we can't film anything explicitly about the song's content," Jimin huffs, turning his torso away from Taehyung to lift the bottom of his shirt and use it to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

Unfortunately, Taehyung is correct. Namjoon has planned the scenes to skirt the song's topic artfully, dancing the line between artistic and risque.

Jimin thinks it's fair that he's hesitant. Never before has he let someone wrap chains around his body. Though, it feels fitting that Taehyung will do it. Probably because Taehyung is annoying, and who else would ensnare Jimin but the little devil himself?

If Taehyung senses the anxious spike in Jimin's vanilla scent, he doesn't comment on it. He remains steady as well, his driftwood and bourbon scent hardly present. He’s quiet for a moment as he plays with the chains.

"It's just a song, Chim," Taehyung eventually says, his dark eyes flitting up to stare at Jimin across the room. "It's not like we're fucking."

"Well, I mean, obviously. That's not what I meant," Jimin stumbles through his words. He squeezes his phone and accidentally turns the video's volume up all the way.

Taehyung laughs, light and airy as usual, despite being exhausted and covered in sweat from hours of dancing.

"It's not a standard metal chain," Taehyung comments offhandedly, looping it over his shoulders and around his neck. "I don't know what material… It's something lighter. I bet they made it so you wouldn't smack yourself in the face with it."

"Me? What about you?"

Taehyung shrugs and pulls the chain off, letting it run along his neck until it falls limp in his hands. "I know how to use chains properly."

Jimin doesn't know what to say to that, so he ignores Taehyung and returns to their dance practice video on his phone. Whatever Taehyung is trying to joke about, Jimin doesn't understand, and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to. What would Taehyung even need chains for?

Apparently, in a particularly annoying mood, Taehyung is giving Jimin very few moments of peace today. Jimin feels the hairs on his arms raise as Taehyung circles behind him and leans down to nuzzle his face in the fluffy strands of hair that aren’t tied up in a ponytail.

“You smell nice when you’re embarrassed,” Taehyung’s voice is muffled, but Jimin hears him too well.

Mortified, Jimin grows rigid beneath Taehyung’s gentle touch. It isn’t fair how vulnerable he is. He hates how easily others can read him since he can’t take suppressants to weaken his scent and the other telltale signs of his omega status.

Taehyung is lucky to be on suppressants; his emotions are neatly hidden behind a controlled, stoic face. His driftwood and bourbon scent is still there, but it’s muted and easily masked by cologne. Sometimes, Jimin can’t sense Taehyung’s emotions just from scent alone. Jimin has had to learn the quirks of Taehyung’s body language, like how Taehyung's eyes grow wide and he does this strange little wiggle of his head when he’s trying to get something he wants, or how Taehyung plays with his fingers when he’s about to fall into ADHD-induced mind drifting during meetings.

In two years, Jimin thinks he’s done a damn good job of learning what makes Taehyung, Taehyung. This is why a shudder ripples through his body when Taehyung noses the curve of his ear and inhales deeply.

“What’re you doing?” Jimin jerks away and twists around to narrow his eyes at Taehyung.

Blank-faced and wide-eyed, Taehyung stares at Jimin like he’s waiting for him to answer his own question.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Taehyung asks when Jimin doesn’t say anything more.

“Yes, please…”

Unusually self-conscious, Jimin smooths down the back of his head while he watches Taehyung slip his backpack over one broad shoulder. His chest tightens when Taehyung reaches for his backpack, slipping it over his other shoulder. Taehyung looks ridiculous with both backpacks slung over his shoulders, but a sense of endearment warms Jimin’s cheeks when Taehyung lifts his chin in a nod toward the dance studio’s exit.

The backpacks aren’t heavy. Why is Jimin blushing like Taehyung is demonstrating some impressive alpha feat?

Resisting the ridiculous urge to slap himself, Jimin exhales slowly as he stands.

“Wait, we should take a selca before we go,” Taehyung suggests once Jimin is at his side, “For the dreamers.”

“Won’t your fans care, too?” Jimin doesn’t know why he feels defensive all of a sudden. Perhaps it’s because Taehyung’s cheeks are still dusted a light rose pink against his tan skin, and Jimin can’t pull his gaze away from them.

“My fans complain about you in the comments because they’re all horny and hate when I even look in another celebrity’s direction,” Taehyung flicks the tip of Jimin’s chin, “But your fans love me.”

Jimin lets out a strangled-sounding laugh. His fans do love Taehyung. They also think Jimin loves him, and not in a platonic soulmate way.

Taehyung gives him an odd look. “Chim?”

“Let’s take a selca, yeah, that’s fun. That’ll be… cute. Sure!”

Jimin pulls the hair tie from his ponytail, letting his hair loose so he can retie it after smoothing it out. His hair color has faded to a soft baby blue, akin more to a cloud than cotton candy but still complementary to his features.

The selfie is cute despite their sweaty, bare-faced visuals. Taehyung is gorgeous regardless of the circumstances, and Jimin’s puffy cheeks give him a cherub look when his skin isn’t plastered with makeup. Visually, he and Taehyung complement each other just as well as they complement each other’s personalities and workstyles.

Taehyung, the photographer; Jimin, the captionmaker.

“Working out is a necessary pain,” Jimin workshops a few ideas out loud with Taehyung resting his chin on his shoulder to peer down at the Instagram post, “Or maybe only emojis. Or, midday vibe?”

“Midnight Ride,” Taehyung smirks with a deep exhale sounding like a dark chuckle punctuating his comment. “Spoilers. You’re such an idol.”

“I’m not spoiling anything,” Jimin pouts because he’s not. They’re just little hints, little Easter eggs, in a way. Taehyung wouldn’t understand. “You’re the one who spoiled the entire album to begin with!”

Letting out another breathy exhale that makes Jimin feel like he’s being mocked, Taehyung straightens his posture to readjust the backpacks. “Your fans will come up with plenty of conspiracy theories within five seconds of you posting that.”

Like in our supposed love life, Jimin fills in the blanks and wonders if Taehyung has intentionally left them out of their conversation.

Jimin flips off the lights when he passes through the exit doors and hopes he doesn’t have to spend the drive home with the smell of his embarrassment saturating Taehyung’s car–no matter how nice Taehyung finds it.

By the time they shoot the Buzzfeed episode a few days later, Jimin’s anxiety morphs into an uncontrollable giddiness that gets on everyone’s nerves. Even Taehyung gives him a sideways look as they walk down the hall of some nondescript corporate building in downtown Seoul, where BuzzFeed's South Korean branch operates. A sweet female alpha leads them through the building and entertains Jimin’s nervous babbling with an unbreakable smile.

“My name is Yoonhee,” she introduces herself, waiting for Jimin and Taehyung to exit the elevator and lead them down a winding hall.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Taehyung’s voice is deep and smooth; he has already slipped into the celebrity persona he wears so well.

Taehyung’s tone makes Jimin shiver, and it doesn’t help that Taehyung isn’t wearing scent blockers today. He smells good, almost too good, especially as he walks beside Yoonhee, and their alpha scents blend well together, hers equally earthy. It’s annoying, even though it has no reason to be.

“This is your first time doing a skit with us?” Yoonhee asks once they’ve reached a lone black door with a light above it, indicating whether anyone is using the recording studio inside.

Taehyung isn’t paying attention anymore, so Jimin does his best to take the lead. “Yup! I’m really excited!”

His voice is too loud, echoing in the recording room, which is a soothing lavender that makes him smile because it reminds him of dreamscape. Two chairs are in the middle of the room near a bunch of professional camera equipment. The BuzzFeed employees tending to the equipment give Taehyung and Jimin small bows.

“Well, we’re all happy to have you,” Yoonhee says with a smile. “Your managers spoke to you about the segment being in English, correct?”

Taehyung looks to Jimin, avoiding Yoonhee’s gaze.

“Yes, but can you please edit the final video to add translations for Taehyung?” Jimin asks, noticing Taehyung’s scent grow bitter in the back of his throat. “He can read English, but he’ll probably switch back for his commentary.”

“That is no problem at all.” Yoonhee gives Taehyung a polite smile.

She points at the chairs with the clipboard she’s holding, gesturing for them to sit down. “We’ll get started in a few minutes. If you need anything to drink, please let me know. We have water and some light alcoholic beverages.”

“Soju?” Taehyung perks up at the mention of alcohol.

Jimin can’t stop the nervous giggle that escapes him when Yoonhee returns with beer, though Taehyung seems pleased with any type of alcohol.

“Maybe I should get some, too,” Jimin wonders aloud.

Taehyung shakes his head after taking a sip from the glass bottle. “Yoonhee-ssi, can you get him some water?”

Slumping in his chair, Jimin rolls his eyes as he always does when Taehyung makes decisions for him. It doesn’t happen often, but Jimin makes sure to express his disdain whenever it does. He’s pretty sure they both know that he’s being exceptionally dramatic. He secretly loves the doting, though he refuses to admit that, even to himself.

It only takes a few minutes for the camera crew to finish getting ready. Jimin forces Taehyung to let him have at least a few sips of his beer to give him the false belief that he’ll receive any meaningful relief from the liquid courage. It isn’t that Jimin is concerned about filming the episode; like with dancing, he’s accustomed to being observed. Jimin is nervous about the possibility that the BuzzFeed staff have also seen what he and Hoseok have seen on Twitter — things Jimin desperately hopes Taehyung hasn’t seen.

“Alright, are you guys ready?” Yoonhee asks.

Jimin gives her an enthusiastic thumbs-up and convinces himself that he is ready as the red recording light flips on, and the crew gives them the okay to start.

"Hi, friends!" Jimin smiles wide at the camera and points at Taehyung, who sits in the chair beside him. "That's V!"

"And that's Jimin."

Taehyung looks at Jimin rather than the camera when he points at him. His greeting is steady and smooth compared to Jimin's springy enthusiasm.

"And we're with BuzzFeed to read some thirst tweets!"

In front of their chairs are two small buckets: a blue one for Jimin and a red one for Taehyung. The buckets contain the tweets printed out by staff. Jimin can only imagine what kind of exciting things their fans have to say on Twitter, though he has a feeling Taehyung won't be as surprised as Jimin will be. Jimin doesn't make a habit of looking himself up on social media, but Taehyung likes to be nosy.

Jimin wiggles in his chair and holds the red bucket over his head, his nerves morphing into playful energy. When Taehyung snatches it away, he pouts.

"You're going to fall," Taehyung scolds. He looks to the staff standing behind the cameras and points at Jimin. "Can someone edit this later with how many times he falls out of his chair? Maybe add a counter at the top of the screen."

Annoyed by Taehyung's request and the staff's subsequent laughter, Jimin flicks the side of Taehyung's head as he boldly announces, "I won't fall at all."

"Sure, Jimin," Taehyung looks unconvinced, and rightfully so. Jimin has a habit of throwing himself onto the floor, legs flying in the air. "Alright, who goes first? Do I read mine, or do I read his?"

Yoonhee clarifies the episode's agenda: "You'll read the tweets about Jimin, and he'll read yours. Take turns, though."

After giving the staff another thumbs-up, Jimin snatches the red bucket back and waits impatiently for Taehyung to grab the blue one.

"I'm older; I go first.” Jimin mixes the papers around, getting a little dramatic with it.

Considering how big of a deal Jimin’s appearance is on the show, he thinks he's allowed to have fun with it. He's the first idol to participate in BuzzFeed's Thirst Tweets series. There have been Korean rappers on the show but no K-pop idols. Jimin knows he's becoming a trailblazer and perhaps a trendsetter. Undoubtedly, other idols will follow his lead and accept offers from BuzzFeed to participate in mature content like this in the future.

Being on the show is thrilling, to say the least. It's also terrifying because Jimin knows that some fans (and antis) will hate him for this, but there will also be fans who will be more than enthusiastic about watching the episode. He's also somewhat nervous about the tweets themselves. After watching other celebrities' episodes, Jimin has gotten an idea of what fans have to say… and they're definitely comments unlike anything he's ever heard, even going beyond what Hoseok has shown him.

None of that is anything Jimin can worry about now that he's here and the cameras are rolling. He hopes the resolution isn't too high because he's already sweating under the bright lights. At least he’s wearing a black shirt.

"Are you ready, V?" Jimin waggles his eyebrows.

"Honestly, I don't think you're ready, but let's go."

Clearing his throat, Jimin holds out the first slip of paper and reads, "Kim Taehyung's hands would be the perfect necklace… I'm just saying."

When the words leave his lips, Jimin feels regret slowly trickling through his veins. It was his understanding that the tweets would start off harmless and grow exponentially more explicit. Apparently, their episode will take a different approach…

"Hmm, a choker," Taehyung hums with an appreciative nod.

"Taehyung!" Jimin's dangly earrings swing as he whips his head to the side to look at him.

"What? That's what they're talking about." Leaning in, Taehyung presses his palm to Jimin's throat and loosely curves his long fingers around it. The multiple gold rings adorning his fingers are cold against Jimin’s skin. "I see it."

"Go away!" Jimin sputters, pushing Taehyung's arm from him.

Heat blooms across Jimin’s face, and his stomach turns and dips, a rollercoaster of sensations tumbling through him. He fights the urge to touch his throat where Taehyung had, where his heart frantically pulses. He can smell his scent spike with something sweeter than his usual vanilla. It's so sweet that his tongue and throat feel thick with it, to the point that it's almost unbearable.

The room they're in is spacious to accommodate the set and camera crew, but Taehyung is sitting right next to Jimin, close enough that their knees bump into each other when they shift in their chairs. The crew might not notice the change in Jimin's scent yet, but there's no way Taehyung can't notice it from having his hand around Jimin’s throat.

Looking entirely too pleased with himself, Taehyung plucks a slip of paper from the blue bucket.

"Oh," Taehyung says with a smug smirk. The look on his face as he silently reads the tweet to himself makes Jimin's already nervous stomach twist into knots that sit heavily in his gut.

"Just read it," Jimin's command ends with a lilt, not a whine but something breathy that borders on distress.

Taehyung stalls for a second longer as he chews his bottom lip between his front teeth. When Taehyung finally reads the tweet aloud, Jimin decides to murder Seokjin when they get home for letting them agree to be on the show.

"There are two kinds of people in this world: people who would sell their homes, kidneys, and souls to cum on Park Jimin's motherfucking lips, and liars."

For the record, Jimin isn’t as innocent as the K-pop industry tries to make its idols appear. He’s had sex, although not as much as the average guy, probably. It’s a little challenging to find the time and the right person. Most of the alphas Jimin has been with are also idols or other types of celebrities, people who understand nondisclosure agreements and have ones of their own. It’s too stressful to look for lust or love at tables other than the luxurious one he sits at.

But never in Jimin’s life has he ever heard such words uttered in his direction. Although Jimin knows it’s just a tweet, that some stranger out there had delulu hours and wanted to express their love for Jimin in a… creative way, Jimin can’t move past the fact that Taehyung is saying it. Taehyung didn’t write it, but he’s saying it. Jimin is sitting here, watching Taehyung’s lips move, and he’s hearing Taehyung say he wants to cum on Jimin’s lips.

Inhaling sharply, Jimin adverts his eyes. If he’s not looking at Taehyung, he’s looking at the camera. He’s not sure which is worse.

The image of himself looking up at Taehyung while on his knees with parted lips slippery with cum, floods Jimin's mind. He swears he licks his lips in real life and tastes something sweet.

It’s his lip balm, of course. That’s all.

"I… don't know what to say," Jimin mumbles, already sweating through the armpits of his shirt. Starring in this episode is way worse than he expected, but there’s no way he’s going to let his perverted intrusive thoughts ruin everything.

“Thank you for the compliment, maybe,” Taehyung smirks as he crumples up the slip of paper and tosses it at Jimin. It bounces off the side of Jimin’s head, and some of the BuzzFeed staff giggle. “Now read another one of mine.”

The tips of Jimin’s ears and the apples of his cheeks are on fire, but that isn’t an unusual reaction from more conservative or innocent celebrities featured on the show. Jimin is sure his fans will think he’s cute; they can all laugh about this later. What’s killing him is how strongly his scent wavers, spiking and dying out in fluctuations that follow the path of Taehyung’s eyes gliding from the little strips of paper to Jimin’s pink face.

“Alright…” Jimin side-eyes the camera, only now realizing he has twisted his body so that he’s turned more toward Taehyung than the camera crew. He swallows and tries not to breathe too loudly into the little microphone clipped to his shirt.

"Sometimes V’s voice be so deep I feel that shit tapping my cervix.”

As Jimin reads the tweet aloud, a reminder of the smooth, smoldering tone Taehyung uses with his fans during Weverse lives filters through his mind like hypnosis. Although the tweet isn’t anatomically relevant to Jimin, it deepens his embarrassment anyway.

“How the fuck are people so creative?” Taehyung asks with his hand out so Jimin can pass the paper to him for further inspection. “I wanna meet these people. We need to talk about some music content because there’s something interesting here. There’s good lyric potential.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jimin rolls his eyes as he huffs.

Something about how Taehyung looks at him makes him feel like Taehyung isn’t falling for the little show he’s putting on. Jimin isn’t intentionally huffing and puffing to mask his embarrassment. He also doesn’t think it’s working, even if it was his intention.

“This is lyricism, Jimin.”

“It’s vulgar.”

“Am I not vulgar?” Taehyung’s smile is sly, slippery, and slight. It’s sneaky enough to coax little sparks within the embers of the pit of Jimin’s stomach.

“Just read another one, V.”

The segment runs longer than Jimin expects, though he knows most of the content won’t make the final cut. From what Jimin has seen, the videos uploaded to YouTube rarely last more than ten minutes. Whatever the editing process is, Jimin would like to be part of it. There’s no way he’s walking away from this experience without knowing what’s going into it.

“We only got two left, I’m pretty sure,” Taehyung says as he selects another slip of paper.

Jimin looks down at the final slip of paper in his bucket. What feels like hundreds of slips later, Jimin’s palms have left dark streaks on the thighs of his pants from how many times he has tried to nervously dry the sweat off them.

"This is another good one…” Taehyung’s smile is wicked. “I want Park Jimin to aggressively rail me. Like, you see how passionate he gets when he dances… Imagine him using that passion... elsewhere."

Sitting straight in his chair, Jimin looks past the camera lens to Yoonhee.

“Is this real? People actually posted these things?” Jimin rubs his hands on his thighs again, but his pants’ material is too smooth to fully dry the sweat from his palms.

The crew laughs, a few of them reassuring Jimin that these are, in fact, very real. Taehyung’s laughter stands out among them; when doesn’t he stand out to Jimin?

“What, you don’t think people want you to fuck them?”

Jimin ignores Taehyung’s question. His eyes are too sparkly, and Jimin might be paranoid, but he thinks he notices Taehyung sniffing slightly, just a subtle inhale that feels different than a normal breath.

Jimin shifts in his seat so his knees point toward the camera crew.

“I can’t imagine sharing something like this on the internet, that’s all,” Jimin quickly looks into the camera with wide eyes, “I mean, not that it’s bad! I love that my fans are so supportive of me!”

“Well…” Taehyung’s tongue prods the inside of his cheek when he pauses like he’s trying to decide if he should say what’s on his mind.

Jimin hopes Taehyung won’t, but two years is long enough to know that there is the thinnest of filters between Taehyung’s brain and mouth.

“A confession like this would be more compelling if you were actually a top,” Taehyung’s smirk doesn’t falter as he speaks, even when Jimin shoves him hard enough to nearly topple Taehyung over. His chair tips to the side with enough momentum that he has to grab Jimin’s arm to stop himself from falling over.

“You can’t air this,” Jimin pleads with Yoonhee.

It doesn’t matter that Taehyung is correct about Jimin’s sexual preferences (of course he is; they’re best friends) or that society labels male omegas as bottoms anyway. Jimin would rather die than give the world permanent access to a clip of Taehyung calling him a bottom.

It’s bad enough he has had to sit through dozens of statements from Taehyung that feel like sexual propositions. Jimin already feels like he’s going to explode. The least anyone can do is have mercy on him.

“We plan to run the footage past your managers before releasing the episode.” Yoonhee’s nostrils flex as she frowns and slowly shakes her head. "I can request that they share the file with you, too.”

“See, Chim. It’s just for fun.” The balled-up paper slip clinks against the wall of the bucket when Taehyung tosses it in. There’s only one slip left, and Jimin will read it for Taehyung.

“Alright, this is the last one,” Jimin says, uncaring that he isn’t performing well for the camera by speaking too softly.

A quick scan before Jimin reads the tweet out loud, and he knows that out of all the tweets he has been forced to read, this one is bad enough that he can’t bring himself to look at the camera or Taehyung in the eyes while he reads it. He can barely force it out of his mouth.

“I cry myself to sleep at night knowing I'm punished to live a life where I…” Jimin trails off, interrupting himself by biting his bottom lip. He drags his teeth against the supple flesh and hopes his makeup is covering even the slightest pink undertones his cheeks may have.

“Where you…” Taehyung encourages with a sharp grin that pierces Jimin in the chest. Taehyung is wicked, oh so wicked, without even knowing how wicked he truly is.

Quickly looking back down, Jimin continues, “I cry myself to sleep at night knowing I’m punished to live a life where I cannot ride Kim Taehyung's face until I'm numb from overstimulation."

A high whistle echoes through the room, Taehyung shaking his head as his lips unpucker and curl into a smirk.

“Wow,” is all Taehyung says. He stares at Jimin, who stares at the slip of paper in his hands, and folds his arms against his chest. “Wow.”

Jimin hasn’t ever cried himself to sleep at night over Taehyung, but he has lost sleep over him, and he supposes that isn’t too different. Has he thought about riding Taehyung’s face until he’s numb from overstimulation?

Well, he is now.

Taehyung must notice Jimin’s eyes fall to his mouth because he brings his hand to his face and runs his index finger along his bottom lip. The movement is slow and uncoordinated, with Taehyung’s finger slipping a few times and pulling down his lip in the middle. It almost looks absent-minded.

Jimin doesn’t believe him one bit.

The tweet makes sense, though. Taehyung has nice lips, not as full as Jimin’s, but still shapely. His nose is sharp, his chin and jaw defined, and his tongue… Well, let’s just say that Jimin is fully aware of Taehyung’s oral fixation from how seductive his stage presence is.

“Should we say our goodbyes?” Yoonhee asks, pulling Jimin out of his thoughts.

“Oh, yes, I think so.” Ducking his head, Jimin realizes he’s been staring at Taehyung this whole time, not once commenting on the tweet he just read.

The staff’s laughter only intensifies Jimin’s flustered state as he and Taehyung thank their future audience for watching their episode.

“We hope you enjoy our upcoming album, Midnight Ride. Jimin and I have worked hard, and we appreciate your love and support.” Taehyung is unfathomably smooth as he delivers the episode’s ending ment.

Jimin walks out of the room on shaky legs.

Perhaps if Jimin was returning home after the BuzzFeed recording, he’d be okay. He could have the rest of the day to process every dirty thing that came out of Taehyung’s mouth (the most damaging: “I just need to eat Park Jimin’s ass”) and his own mouth (the most embarrassing: “Unhinged Tae thot? After he fingers you he does his signature V pose to lick his fingers”) in peace. He could lie in bed and tell himself that none of this means anything. Anyone would feel strange after hearing their best friend say such vulgar things about them or have to be the one to say the vulgar things. It’s supposed to be uncomfortable. That’s sort of the whole point of the bit.

It doesn’t mean anything.

Unfortunately, Jimin doesn’t have the luxury of going home to reevaluate his life choices. Instead, he slides into the back seat of the car waiting for him and Taehyung outside the BuzzFeed headquarters, and pretends his heart doesn’t leap out of his chest when Taehyung grabs his waist to help him.

“The venue isn’t far,” their driver announces once Jimin and Taehyung are seated.

Jungkook, the photographer they’ve hired to handle their concept photos, chose an interesting setting: a seedy-looking nightclub in Hongdae that Jimin is unfamiliar with.

“Would you like the partition up?” the driver asks.

Taehyung always prefers privacy in most aspects of his life except when it benefits him to be seen. Jimin doesn’t care much. He has learned how to deal with an idol’s life of constant surveillance.

As the partition barrier goes up, blocking the driver from seeing and hearing whatever happens in the back seat, Jimin feels his skin prickle with warmth. It’s so odd; his heat has been over for days now. There’s no reason he should still feel uncomfortable body temperature fluctuations. Yet here he is, shivering and clammy.

“Did you have fun?” Taehyung sounds smug, maybe even a little snarky, but his expression is neutral when Jimin peeks at him from the corner of his eye.

“I guess you could say that…”

Ah, there’s the smirk. It’s subtle, just the tiniest twitch of the corner of Taehyung’s mouth, but Jimin notices. He notices most things, finding it hard not to be drawn to Taehyung whenever he’s in the room. Even now, when embarrassment from the BuzzFeed recording has Jimin’s scent so sweet it’s almost tart, he still leans into Taehyung to rest his head on his shoulder. For comfort – just as friends do.

“Did you have fun?” Jimin asks, tilting his head to look up at Taehyung.

“Mhm,” Taehyung turns his face slightly to rest his cheek atop Jimin’s head, “I enjoyed watching you get all red and sweaty over it.”

“Shut up!”

Taehyung’s laughter is all teeth and crinkled eyes. His shoulders shake, bouncing Jimin’s head up and down, but Jimin doesn’t mind. Taehyung is cute, even when it’s at Jimin’s expense.

“The internet is a nasty place,” Jimin sighs once Taehyung’s laughter has subsided. “Creative, but nasty.”

“I find it flattering.”

Jimin watches Taehyung play with the many gold rings adorning his fingers, some fingers with more than one band slipped over them. Compared to Jimin’s stubby fingers, Taehyung’s are long and pretty, not too knobby, and end with finely manicured nails. Even his cuticles are perfect. Jimin can’t help but think about the first tweet he read and how nice the pressure of Taehyung’s hand was against his throat.

“Flattering?” Jimin breathes, struggling to drag his eyes away.

“You don’t think it is?”

Jimin wonders if Taehyung really does lick the slick off his fingers in a “V” shape after fingering an omega, can’t stop his mind from wandering to all the female omegas Taehyung has hooked up with in the two years Jimin has known him. Jimin doesn’t have much additional brainpower to spend contemplating if finding sexual commentary about himself on social media platforms is flattering.

“I was just surprised, I guess.” Jimin grows quiet as he watches Taehyung reach for his hand, lacing their fingers together so he can pull Jimin’s hand into his lap. Their size difference never fails to make Jimin’s heart flutter, though he ignores it rather well.

“You don’t go on the internet enough,” Taehyung flicks Jimin’s fingers, paying particular attention to his pinky, “I’ve seen dirtier commentary on Korea’s sweetheart, Park Jimin. Stuff that would make me look tame. Especially from Americans. They’re unhinged over there.”

Jimin doesn’t believe him, but he keeps quiet. It’s better that way since Taehyung flips Jimin’s hand to rest on his thigh, palm up, so he can trace the lines that web it. Taehyung’s light touch tickles and Jimin is still weirdly sensitive.

“That’s why I avoid looking myself up…” Jimin eventually says.

Taehyung hums in response, his mind gone somewhere new, while Jimin tries not to wiggle under his touch. He brushes his thumb along Jimin’s wrist, stimulating his scent gland. Vanilla and bourbon go well together, dark but warm and comforting enough that Jimin becomes drowsy.

Exhausted from Yoongi and Seokjin being forced to book their promotional activities back-to-back due to “Spoiler Gate,” Jimin doesn’t fully wake up until they arrive at the nightclub. By then, he’s fully pressed into Taehyung’s side, his face tucked against his neck.

Jimin no longer frequents Hongdae, but this nightclub isn’t his vibe anyway. As Jimin and Taehyung are ushered inside by Jungkook’s staff waiting for them, Jimin notes how dark and moody the club is. It’s industrial, with intentional graffiti, and designed to look like the warehouse nightclubs popular in the States, the ones Jimin supposes are for raves and underground music.

In his casual streetwear of joggers and a fitted hoodie that stretches over his upper body muscles, Taehyung looks right at home, though they’ll both need to change outfits for the photoshoot.

It’s strange to be in a nightclub during the day. Jungkook chose the venue after Jimin and Taehyung gave him the creative license to do whatever he wanted with their photoshoot. It’s risky, literally letting a photographer call all the shots, but Jimin assumes nothing will be as big of a risk as releasing an album with Taehyung. Besides, Jungkook has an impressive portfolio of gorgeous images he has captured of other celebrities over the years, and dreamscape worked with him in the past.

The only danger to their photoshoot is Taehyung.

It doesn’t take long to get ready for the photoshoot, although Jimin always spends more time with the stylists than Taehyung. With his additional free time, Taehyung catches up with Jungkook, whom he hasn’t seen in a while. They’re friends through the music industry but not directly because of their careers. They just so happened to meet each other through their mutual tattoo artist, who is well sought after by celebrities with plenty of money to drop on intricate tattoos. Both men are inked up all over their upper bodies. As uncommon as it is in South Korea, their body art makes them even more attractive to fans and celebrities.

Not that Jimin ever thinks about anything like that. The fact that Taehyung has arm and chest tattoos has nothing to do with Jimin, of course.

When Jimin steps into the main room of the nightclub, where the large dance floor is, he’s greeted by Taehyung’s naked abdomen.

“Got this one a couple days ago.” Taehyung lifts his shirt and points to a square patch of see-through bandage stuck with adhesive to his ribcage.

Jungkook's camera is slung over his shoulder so he can bend slightly to examine the new tattoo through the plastic-like covering.

The tattoo is one Jimin has seen before, but only once when Taehyung first got it. Despite their fairly regular sleepovers, Jimin rarely sees Taehyung without clothes on. It’s for the best, honestly. Ever since Taehyung came back from his enlistment, he maintained the muscular physique he’d nurtured while fulfilling his duty. Most alphas do; it’s just that Taehyung is always special in Jimin’s eyes.

“Fuck me,” Jungkook mutters, looking up at Taehyung, “How bad was it?”

“Man, hurt like a bitch.”

Jimin snorts, making Taehyung’s amber eyes look towards him.

“When I got my ribs done, it wasn’t so bad. Alphas just have a lower pain tolerance than omegas.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Jungkook says with an appreciative nod.

Taehyung grins in a certain way that tells Jimin he’s about to say something terrible. Jimin doesn’t know how he knows; he just knows that he does, and he goes to scold Taehyung in advance but opens his mouth too late.

“Taehyung, don’t you–”

“It’s because you gotta take knots all the time,” Taehyung snickers, earning a smack in the stomach from Jungkook. Despite being an alpha, too, Jungkook has at least some decorum.

Jimin hates how shy Taehyung’s comment makes him, and he turns his face to avoid looking at him. Maybe there’s some science behind Taehyung’s speculation. Maybe Taehyung is just a stupid alpha sometimes.

“Alright, alright,” Jungkook lifts his camera from where it’s looped over his shoulder, “Let’s get this shit over with so we can get done before this place has to open for the evening.”

The nightclub provides a gritty backdrop for their photos. It’s fitting, considering the album explores concepts like sensuality, forbidden romances, and a sense of belonging in spaces where it’s easy to get lost in the crowd. BDSM or not, Jimin values the nuances of their songs. Even the concept of a forbidden romance is less about a relationship with another person and more about Jimin feeling forbidden from exploring his identity as an adult in the K-pop industry.

For Taehyung, the songs may be literal, but Jimin knows his best friend well enough to be sure that there’s more to him than surface-level sexual lyrics.

“Are you ready?” Jungkook asks as he brings his camera up to his face. He analyzes the scene they’ve set up, and Jimin can practically see the creative gears turning in his brain.

“Is this the last thing on my schedule for the day?” Taehyung already knows none of them can answer his question. Only Yoongi would be able to, and he isn’t here.

Seokjin isn’t attending the photoshoot either, though Jimin already knew he would be busy with other important matters. It makes Jimin no difference; he has done countless photo concept shoots. He and Taehyung should be in and out without much of a fuss.

Jungkook starts with a few photos at the bar counter that make it appear that Jimin and Taehyung are genuinely getting drinks at a bar. He ensures that Jimin and Taehyung get equal opportunities for solo shots and ones together. Other photos are more artistic, sometimes merely of the setting or close-ups of Jimin and Taehyung’s clothing – outfits they changed into for the shoot. Jimin and Taehyung complement each other well; their outfits don't quite match, but they're still in harmony. Their stylists leaned heavily into the dark, mature aesthetic of the album – opting for neutral color palettes, few patterns, and just shy of too much leather.

Taehyung was especially thrilled when one of the stylists fastened a leather necklace on Jimin, one too similar to a collar for Jimin’s liking.

“Nice choker,” Taehyung had snickered when he maneuvered around the stylists who fiddled with Jimin’s clothes and makeup.

Jimin chose to ignore such an inappropriate comment. And although Jimin is entirely out of his element in adopting this aesthetic, he has always enjoyed playing dress-up. What idol doesn’t?

Once finished with the bar backdrop, Jungkook leads Jimin and Taehyung to a different room separate from the main dance floor. Blanketed in soft velvet furniture and red lighting, the second room is a VIP lounge. It feels sultry, even with the absence of people and the heavy bass of club music.

“Taehyung-ssi, can you put your arm across the back of the couch? Just let it hang limp.”

For a fraction of a second, Jimin tenses when Taehyung follows Jungkook’s orders by draping his arm over the back of the couch where Jimin sits beside him. The movement reminds Jimin of the teenage cliche, the slow reach behind someone’s date at the movies, trying their best to appear nonchalant when everyone knows they’re trembling inside.

“Perfect.”

Jungkook either doesn’t notice how tense Jimin is, or he thinks it’s all an act for the camera. He takes a few quick photos before directing Jimin and Taehyung to new positions on the red velvet couch.

“Alright, this time, I need you to face each other and give me something that screams Midnight Ride. I need something dark, spicy, something… enchanting. People need to see the chemistry between you. Think you can manage that?”

Jimin scrunches his eyebrows and stares at Jungkook, who nearly vibrates from creative enthusiasm. “Chemistry? Why would we need to have that?”

They do, but Jimin doesn’t understand why that matters.

“Come on, Chim. It’s just for fun,” Taehyung murmurs, running his fingers along Jimin’s jaw with enough pressure to bring his face forward again. “You know how to be enchanting. Hit me with those siren eyes of yours that everyone loves.”

It should be easy; Jimin knows exactly what Taehyung is talking about. Part of the effect is having the right makeup and a perfect mindset. When it comes to his job, performing and presenting himself as an idol, Jimin is a professional at being alluring.

This photoshoot is different, though. Taehyung is the alluring one, his features sharp and haunting in the VIP room’s red lights. The lighting does nothing to mute the teasing glint in his eyes; if anything, the color enhances the mischievous gleam. Jimin would shy away from such a gaze if it weren’t for Taehyung maintaining light pressure on the edge of his jaw to keep him in place.

“Perfect, absolutely perfect,” Jungkook’s praises sound far away and waver like the summer air rippling with heat as it rises from the asphalt.

Taehyung chuckles, and the light caress of his breath makes Jimin’s skin tingle. It doesn’t help that they’re sitting so closely that their knees bump, and Jimin is inundated with Taehyung’s uninhibited alpha pheromones. He’s amused, his scent telling Jimin that he falls somewhere between genuinely happy and wickedly mocking. For some reason, Jimin feels embarrassed either way.

“Jimin-ssi, can you follow Taehyungie hyung’s lead?”

Maybe? No? Jimin doesn’t know what Jungkook is asking of him. Midnight Ride is sultry, dark, and mature. If someone asked Taehyung what it’s about, point blank, he’d say it’s about sex. And it is, even though Jimin respects the nuances. Some songs are genuinely only about sex, and sex sells. Not that Jimin and Taehyung need to be sexual for their music to perform well. It’s just fun. Jimin is finally letting himself admit that.

Taking a deep breath, Jimin tries to force himself into the headspace he needs for this look. He focuses on how free “Hurt So Good” makes him feel seductive and powerful. It is a reminder that Jimin can do anything he sets his mind to, even if it hurts. Even if a part of him craves that hurt because it gives him something to strive for and adversity to overcome.

Like the strange feelings he has for Taehyung. They hurt so badly, especially now when Taehyung is so close, and he smells so good, and all Jimin can think about is how wrong his fans are because he and Taehyung aren’t together. They’re friends, and Jimin is okay with that. He doesn’t have actual feelings for Taehyung. He’s confused, a little lost, and hopelessly ruled by the tricks being with a co-lead can play on idols who collaborate. Jimin imagines it’s the same as how some actors get swept up in their emotions when taking on a romance role.

“Why are you upset?” Taehyung asks quietly, and Jimin hopes Jungkook doesn’t hear them over his camera's click and the staff chattering in the background.

Jimin is too quick to answer, “I’m not.”

“Your scent is telling me otherwise.”

With the click of the camera shutters, it’s likely impossible for Jungkook to not have captured Taehyung subtly scenting Jimin by pressing his wrist against his neck. He drags his wrist downward and then around the back to grab Jimin’s nape. They both know Jungkook won’t use the photos of such an intimate moment, no matter how small.

The scenting works as it always does when Jimin is with Taehyung. He leans into Taehyung more, feeling his body relax and his chest become lighter.

Though it may be more than just the scenting. Taehyung fully cups his palm around Jimin’s nape and presses down slightly, pulling Jimin in further until he’s forced to close his eyes because they’re too close together to look at Taehyung without his eyes crossing.

“I think we should give everyone something worth talking about,” Taehyung whispers, though Jimin catches his smug tone quickly.

He doesn’t want to ask and is afraid of the answer, but the question slips out anyway. “Like what?”

Rather than respond, Taehyung keeps his hand against Jimin’s neck when he kisses him. The pressure isn’t forceful, though; Jimin can easily pull away.

He doesn’t.

It’s gentle how Taehyung’s lips lock with Jimin’s, but it isn’t innocent. He nibbles Jimin’s bottom lip hard enough for it to hurt before sucking it into his mouth. Jimin gasps at the pull, and Taehyung’s responding throaty chuckle sparks something hot and electric through Jimin’s body like his veins are hot wires sizzling inside of him from his lips to his toes and the tips of his fingers that dig into the couch cushions.

What the fuck?

Taehyung’s hand slides upward from Jimin’s nape so he can slip his fingers in his hair. He curls his fingers around the longer strands in the back and tugs so slightly that it hardly moves Jimin’s head, but enough to make Jimin whimper – quiet but still embarrassing.

“Uhh, I don’t know if I can use this…” Jungkook’s voice chisels between Jimin and Taehyung, forcing them to part.

Taehyung's calm and steady breaths contrast sharply with Jimin's quick and sharp inhales. Jimin grips the couch cushions tightly, unable to get his lungs to cooperate.

What the fuck, what the fuck?

“Why? Are you scared of Jinnie hyung’s wrath?” Taehyung leans back against the arm of the couch. He’s so casual and relaxed, as if he hasn’t nearly made Jimin slick in front of everyone.

“Duh, I am. I’m not trying to lose my job over you guys being controversial,” Jungkook admits with a pout, but he takes a few more photos anyway.

According to Jungkook, they’ve got enough content to work with. Jimin knew the photoshoot wouldn’t take long, but the rest of the poses Jungkook puts them in after The Kiss make Jimin feel like jelly. Nothing else comes nearly as close as provocative, but it doesn’t matter. Jimin can’t get his head straight. He follows Taehyung and Jungkook to a few more rooms in the nightclub with a spacey look on his face that seems to please Taehyung if his honeyed scent is to be trusted.

Why would Taehyung kiss him? Jimin doesn’t understand.

He intently watches Taehyung for the rest of the photoshoot and continues to do so once they’re back in the car and are dropped off at their respective apartments. Taehyung behaves normally, chatting away about how exhausting promo schedules are, that he doesn't understand how Jimin could handle dreamscape’s comebacks, and how he needs to reconnect with Jungkook outside of work more often. His energy is slowly depleting from the day’s activities, but he’s got that sparkle in his eyes that Jimin loves so much.

Essentially, Taehyung is unaffected.

It’s controversial, as Jungkook said. A wow factor. Something to make people talk. Taehyung is known for causing scenes and pushing boundaries; Jimin shouldn’t be surprised that he’d want to do the same for their album.

But when Taehyung daps Jimin up in goodbye when they reach his apartment first, never once looking back as he jogs to the front doors, Jimin feels his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. It’s just a game, one in which Taehyung is a professional.

Later, when Jimin is snuggled in bed, he tries not to let his thoughts wander. He doesn’t try very hard, especially when he lets himself pick his bottom lip with his index finger and thumb, playing with the middle pillowy part Taehyung had wrapped his lips around. It’s like he’s in a trance, or maybe he’s high off of his needy pheromones, unable to rip himself away from thoughts about The Kiss.

He got his wish: now he knows Taehyung’s lips are even softer than they look. The thing is, he can’t blame hormones this time.

Luckily, it’s just a game.

Series Masterlist

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie).

#taehyung x jimin #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #vmin fanfic #bts fluff #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #jimin angst #jimin fluff #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #love song

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zorosleftshoe · 2 years

Text

Loveless - (c.b)

Pairing: Colby Brock x Fem!reader

Summary: Colby is always showing up a new girl on his arm. This time? It’s just too much.

Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst

“Some of us love others badly, love ourselves worse. Some of us love horrid, love beastly, love sick, love anti light. Sometimes the love can’t go home at night, can’t sleep with itself, cannot contain itself, catches fire, destroys the belly, strips buildings, goes missing. Punches. Smashes heirlooms. Tells lies. The best lies.”

It was never supposed to be anything more than a silly crush. You know, that feeling you get when he looks at you and your cheeks flush that bright cherry red that your cousin used to make fun of you for. Or when his hand bumps yours and those damn butterflies start erupting in your stomach? I never meant for it to become this.

I’m sure if anyone looked at me and saw the way my eyes glistened at Colby as his head was thrown back and a deep laugh rumbled through his stomach they would say I was infatuated. Unfortunately for myself, they would be right. I was fucked. It wasn’t a secret that Colby didn’t date. After Shea he built brick walls around his heart that even the most experienced thief couldn’t break in. I spent months chiseling away at brick after brick, begging him to let me have a peek inside, but the walls were sealed and cement was poured.

Days felt like years when I was near him. As if I was constantly being pulled towards him as if we were magnets that were always meant to collide. It was exhausting. Harboring a secret that I knew would destroy our friendship was slowly creeping under my skin and I knew it would only be so long before I caved under the pressure. I feared losing the only stability I had ever known.

So I kept quiet and smiled wide even when he would show up to group hangouts with his arm slung around another girl who was pressed up firmly against his side. Even now, as my mouth was pressed into a tight lipped smile, I could feel my heart breaking as I watched Colby laugh with Amber. Everyone knew they were friends. Much like him and I were. The only difference? I noticed how every so often her hand would glide down his arm and rest atop his for a few moments before gliding back up to his shoulder. I let out a heavy exhale and slumped further into my seat.

“Are you in?” Kat’s voice pulled me out of my negative thoughts and I hummed in response. “We were talking about going to get some burgers later. Were you too busy staring to notice?” Her question fell so effortlessly from her lips that the daggers I shot with my eyes could have pierced her. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards in a devilish smirk at my reaction. “Burgers? Yes? No?”

“If I say yes, will you let me wallow in self-pity for just a bit longer?” At my words, I couldn’t help but notice how Colby glanced towards me. His eyes finally leaving Amber and remembering my existence. He completely detached himself from her grasp and leaned forward to rest his elbows against the table.

“Self-pity? Why?” I shrugged at his response before pulling my sleeves over my knuckles and taking sanctuary in the oversized sweater. His eyebrows furrowed at my silence but he decided it was best to not poke the bear and leaned back to engage with Amber once more.

As the evening progressed the bubbling feeling in my stomach became harder to ignore and the little green monster on my shoulder more and more evident. Every giggle that fell from her rosey red lips. Every graze of the hand. Every stare that lasted a second too long. No matter what it was, my patience was thinning, and fast. The last blow was when Amber leaned in close to his ear and whispered her sweet little nothings. His hand creeped up her thigh and I couldn’t bare to watch any longer.

“Excuse me.” I pushed myself from my spot on the couch where I sat next to Kat who was nuzzled up against Sam while we all watched a few episodes of Stranger Things.

“Everything okay?” Sam asked. Concern lacing his voice. I nodded before glancing quickly over Colby who was now focused on my exit. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Just gotta go to the bathroom.” Sam hummed in response before turning back to the TV. I could hear the soft chatter from the living room with every step I took further and further away. Just as I was about to round the corner into the bathroom I felt a soft tug on my wrist. Before I could protest I was pushed into a dark room. “What the hell?” The light flickered on and I shielded my eyes before looking up to see Colby staring back at me. “Wha-“

“What’s going on? And please don’t lie to me. I’m your best friend. I know when something is up and something is up. Don’t push me away, okay?” He took a few short steps towards me but I took two steps back. “Oky, what’s your deal?” His words began to spark an anger in me. A rage that burned deep below the surface like a volcano waiting to erupt.

“My deal? What ever do you mean?” He moved passed me to sit on the bed but I didn’t dare turn around to look at him. This time I was holding my ground and pushing my feelings to the side. He scoffed at my response.

“You’re being distant. Almost hostile towards me.” At his words I spun on my heels to lock eyes with him.

“I’ll be damned if you pin this on me, Colby.” His demeanor changed at the mention of his full name. From the start of our friendship it was odd for either of us to call the other out of name. Strictly sticking to nicknames or pet names. This coldness I had towards him now was new to him. “I have not been distant. I have been supportive. I have sat on the sidelines and let you have your space while you went on how many dates now?” He cocked his head at me almost stunned by the question.

“Wha?” He paused looking at me with widened eyes. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“How many in the last week?” He thought for a moment before exhaling heavily.

“Four.” He looked up at me with heavy eyelids. “Why does it matter?”

“Because it just does, Colby.” He rose to his feet at the mention of his name and pointed a finger at me.

“Stop with the names. We don’t do that. You know we don’t do that.” I scoffed. “Tell me what the issue really is.” It’s like playing poker. You have the worst hand and you know it’s time to fold. I took two large steps up to him till we were toe to toe.

“You really wanna know?” I watched as he visibly gulped but nodded in response. “I can’t play this game with you anymore.” His face washes over in a sheet of confusion. He truly has no idea what I mean.

“I’m confused now. What game?” He moves his hand to brush a couple strands of hair out of my face and I move away from his touch. “Are you seriously okay, sweetheart?” Before I can stop it a bitter laugh escapes my lips in the form of an exhale.

“This,” I pause motioning between us with a single finger. “I’m not a naive person, Colby. I know your track record when it comes to past girlfriends. I know that if anything I would only ever be another notch in your belt, yet, as foolish as it was, I fell in love with you.” He went to speak but I shook my head. “And I’ve carried this secret with me for months because I know that nothing will ever happen between us. I know that you don’t feel as I do. Because the way I feel about you makes me physically ill. It keeps me up at night. The way I love you is like a poison in my blood slowly killing me but I allow it because if it’s the only way I get to have you, then so be it.” By now the tears were flowing and Colby stood motionless.

“I don’t know what to say.” My eyes closed and I chuckled sadly.

“Honestly, Colby? I didn’t even expect you to.” Without another word I turned on my heels and retreated from the room. I didn’t dare look back in fear if I did I would see Colby standing with my bleeding heart at his feet.

In the weeks that followed I had been radio silent. Kat and Sam had gone out of their way to reach out to me. Even swinging by my apartment to drop off necessities they knew I would need. According to a long and thought out text from Kat, my mother became worried and had reached out to her. If anyone could get me to talk, it would be Kat.

But three weeks and two days wasn’t enough to drown the pain of losing Colby. Not even enough to dull it, make it bearable. Just as I thought I would break the surface and take that breath I so desperately needed, another wave came crashing into me, dragging me further into the abyss.

Most days I wanted to blame him. Blame him for not returning the feelings that had crept up on me but I knew it wasn’t his fault. He swore off love and it didn’t matter who tried to rescue him from the tower and slay the dragon. He was content.

A knock on my door pulled my attention away from the movie playing on the TV. I sighed heavily. The walk to the door felt as if it were miles but as the door opened my heart dropped into my stomach.

“Hey, can we talk?” Colby looked down at his shoes and used the tip of his boot to scuff the floor. “I feel like we’ve had enough time apart to figure shit out.” He motioned passed me as if asking if he could come into my apartment. Hesitantly I opened the door wider and stepped to the side allowing him to move beside me. I followed close behind Colby into the living room and watched as he sat on the couch. For a moment he dropped his head into his hands before rubbing his face and looking up at me. “Will you sit please?”

“What do you want to talk about?” I knew. The hollowness in my chest where my heart had previously been was a clear indicator but I needed to hear him say it.

“Can we please not do this today?” He questioned sadly. “I’ve spent the last three weeks trying to decide time and time again what I wanted to say to you. I still don’t know if I’ve got it right, but I want to give it a shot.” I nodded for him to continue. “For starters, I’m sorry that I didn’t come after you that night. That was my first mistake. Then I started thinking about what you said.” He paused looking down at his hands and fiddling with his fingers.

“We can just forget that it happened.” I wagered. That’s what was best. It’s what we were good at.

“I don’t,” he paused again. “I don’t want to forget it. But, you have to know that I would never love you the way you deserve. I would love you badly. Wrongly.” My chest felt heavy at his words. “That’s not me saying I don’t return your feelings either. I do love you. I just,” he paused shaking his head and looking around the room. “I would mess this up. I can never be the person you’re looking for.” His words angered me.

“Who are you to decide that for me?” He went to speak but I raised my hand. “You make it sound like you don’t want to give me a chance because you’re afraid you’ll hurt me? Well, guess what, Colby? You already did that. Because of you I spent the last three years in fucking armor making sure no one gets close enough to fucking hurt me. Waiting on you! Loving you! You do not get to make the hard decisions for me.” Colby sighed heavily.

“What do you want me to do? You said it yourself. I don’t date. I love you but I don’t make exceptions.” I scoffed angrily.

“Because of Shea?” His shoulders dropped at my words. “Yeah. It always comes back to her doesn’t it?” Colby went to reach for my hand but I rose to my feet. “You should go.”

“Sweetheart-“

“Don’t. Just get out.” Colby groaned before standing up and spinning around to look out the window. “I’m serious, Colby. Get out, now-“

“Would you listen to me?” His voice was rising in volume and the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Our expressions mirrored each other, ones of sadness and longing. The tears now rolling freely down both of our faces. “You were there. You saw what loving her did to me. It fucking broke me. When she left I was a shell of the man I once was. It took months, hell, years for me to come back to everyone.”

“Then why are we fighting over this? Why are we wasting each others time?” I could see the frustration in his eyes as he watched me intently. Neither of us moved.

“Because I’m afraid if I walk out that door, this is the last memory I’ll ever have of you.” His words were nothing but a whisper as his eyes pleaded with me. “I’ve lost so many people. I don’t know how to survive losing you.”

“I don’t know how to get passed this.” All of the anger in the room had vanished. It was replaced with an emptiness. A darkness that was slowly enveloping Colby and I. “I’m sorry.” His body began to tremble at my apology and a few seconds later sobs wracked his body. “I’m just sorry.”

“What if we try?” I let out a breathy chuckle and took a seat on the couch.

“Try what?”

“Dating. If it means that you’ll stay, I’ll do it.” I shook my head at his offer.

“Absolutely not, Colby. I’m not forcing you into a relationship you don’t want.” He sat down next to me and took my hands. By now his eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot by the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

“No one forces me to do anything.” He used his hands to cup my cheeks and lock eyes with him. “If you want this, I will do it. Because you’re allowed to be happy. And I want you to be happy. More than anything. So please, sweetheart, just give me the word, and I’ll be yours.”

“Colby-“

“I mean it. Please.” I nodded and he let out a sigh of relief before resting his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I really do love you. I have for awhile. I just never thought I could be the man you need. I’m still not sure-“ his words were silenced by my lips against his. He moved one hand to my neck as the other held tighter my jaw holding me in place.

“I love you, Colbs.” I said once we pulled away, desperate for air. He smiled before resting his head against my shoulder.

“I love you, sweetheart. I promise I’ll never let you go.” I sighed happily at his words before looking down at our intwined fingers.

“Think you could hold off on that promise for an hour? I have to make dinner.” Colby chuckled before collapsing onto the couch and turning the TV on.

“Sure. Just know we’ve got three weeks to make up for when you’re done.” If there were one word to describe what I felt looking at him as the TV light illuminated his face it would be magic. Absolute magic.

#colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock angst #colby brock imagine #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #sam and colby

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ironspiderfics · 1 year

Text

tick tock

by @iron--spider for @savvysass

And Peter stares at him, watching the panic seep into his shoulders.

“Why did you come to me first?” Ned stammers. “Me, I mean, I can’t do anything—I mean, I can say it sucks, and that doesn’t help—”

Peter leans back against Ned’s pillows, clearing his throat. He’s going for nonchalance. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned it at all.

But sometimes there’s something that’s nagging at him and he knows logically it’s nagging at him because it’s important, but he downplays that nag because he thinks he’s being paranoid or he thinks he can handle it. Maybe it’s both of those things at the same time.

But he mentioned his problem anyway, because of course he did, and Ned has been standing frozen in front of him since, like he got struck by lightning.

“It’s fine,” Peter says, his voice going a little high, but not enough to give him away. He clears his throat again. Nonchalance. “Do you have any of the tamales still?”

Ned’s brows furrow, like he’s primed and ready for an argument. “You are the only—the only person in the known universe who climbs through my bedroom window and tells me he’s been poisoned and then says it’s fine and asks for tamales.”

“You know I like them so much,” Peter says, shrugging at him. “That’s why we got so many, and I already ate the ones I had stashed—”

“Peter!” Ned yells, drawing out the word like a wiggling worm. “Poisoned?”

“It’s fine,” Peter shrugs again, and he swallows hard, and he mostly believes that. His head hurts, but that’s normal after a fight. Rattling his brain around.

It’s all normal. It’s fine.

The room isn’t shimmering at the corners. No way.

“Peter.”

He keys back in. “That guy…is a weirdo,” Peter laughs, and Ned takes two steps closer to him, still poised, eyes still wide under a stern, furrowed brow.

He analyzes him, like he’s looking for something Peter’s hiding. “All of the dudes you fight are?” he says. Asks. It’s a statement phrased like a question. “Which one was it? You could be referring to any of them?”

“The guy who thinks he’s a snake,” Peter says. He winces. “No. A scorpion.”

“Worse,” Ned says. “And what exactly did he say? Did you know you’re bleeding?” He’s getting worked up, and his cheek spasms a little bit. “You’re trying to be too casual I don’t trust you right now you’re doing that thing where you’re under—you’re under—I’m gonna tell Tony I’m gonna tell May and MJ—”

“Ned!” Peter yells, scrambling off the bed and reaching him before he grabs his phone from the desk. He holds onto his arms, and Ned is still looking at him like he’s grown another head. “It’s fine. I swear. I was just…telling you…the events, I was close to your house and I thought I’d tell you the events of my, uh, night, my patrol—how was your night, did you get to that episode of Survivor where—”

“What exactly did this guy say to you?” Ned asks, slowly. “Like, in words. His words.”

Peter swallows hard. “Well, uh, we were fighting, and he—he ‘poisoned’ me, right?” He uses air quotes.

Ned glares at him.

“And he said we were gonna play a game—”

“Bad—”

“And he said, uh, if I couldn’t find the antidote in three days that I’d, uh. Die.”

Die. DIE. It lands like an anvil.

Ned gives him a piercing look.

“That’s everything he said? Those were the words—that’s it? No clues no map no—three days—three days is nothing—that’s not—that’s not even four days—when does it start does it start at like midnight or the second you—”

Peter clears his throat again. He needs to refocus.

He feels like the walls are moving—no. Not happening. He’s fine.

He shakes his head. He wishes he hadn’t mentioned it at all, but here he is. “Ned, that—I mean, this is normal.”

Ned scoffs. “Norm—”

“This is just something that happens. Spider-Man gig. He’s—this is part of the rapport.”

“Rappo—Peter what if you start dying? What if you can’t find him? What if you find him and he won’t give you the antidote? What then? What if there is no antidote? There isn’t enough time—”

“There’s probably not even a poison,” Peter says, shrugging again. Brushing it off. Being normal. Managing the situation.

Ned pauses for a second. Then his eyes bulge. “Probably?”

Peter gets this shit all the time. Every day, it’s some guy in a weirdo costume telling him they’re gonna kill him or he’s gonna drown tomorrow at noon or they’re gonna take his powers away or they’re gonna launch him into the sun, and none of those things have ever happened. And this guy, this Scorpion has threatened to poison him dozens of times—it’s his deal, it’s his thing, since he showed up a few months after the world ended, and he’s never good at it. He said he was gonna poison Harlem’s water supply and that didn’t happen, despite days of monitoring. He said he’d poisoned the mayor’s family and that they’d die in five days and they’re currently vacationing in Kokomo. He’s even said he’d poisoned Peter before and that his skin was gonna fall off and that never happened.

Tony has always told him to take threats seriously from everyone that threatens him, even if they sound stupid. But when it winds up being a lie or a fluke, over and over—

The only thing that’s worrying him is that this guy did get him with his stupid stinger this time.

He had a better costume, one that didn’t look like it came from the November discount at Spirit Halloween. And it was a knockdown dragout fight, because he was threatening to poison this bank manager to steal his codes, blah blah, bad guy shit, but then he got Peter in the shoulder with his stinger and he seemed surprised that he got him and that’s when he said what he said and he did what he does best: disappear. Peter can usually find these guys, and he actually got a few of them and their gangs locked up. But this asshole falls off the grid really easily, and doesn’t leave much behind. Peter doesn’t even know his real name.

And Peter’s shoulder is pulsing. But only a little bit.

So he’s just—he’s not concerned. Maybe slightly. But not really.

He’s just got a headache. He feels fine.

He’s fine.

He manages to convince Ned that he doesn’t need to tell anybody, and they bandage up the things that need bandaging, including the spot where Scorpion got him, which is only a little green and angry, not nearly as bad as Peter was imagining. Ned huffs and puffs at it, but he doesn’t try to restart the argument. And then they share tamales and Peter goes home.

“You okay?” May asks him, when he kisses her cheek before bed.

“Yep,” Peter says, smiling, and nodding at her, because he is.

He feels fine. He texted MJ that he was fine, even though that seemed to make her suspicious, but she’s always suspicious of him even though they’re together now. She’s paranoid.

The ceiling is absolutely not slowly lowering. It’s just the light being weird that’s it nothing more than that—

May gives him a look, similar to the look Ned gave him earlier. “You sure?” she pushes. “Look a little…peaky.”

He shakes his head.

Only a little dizzy.

Three days…

“I’m fine. I just had seven tamales. I’m fine.”

“Boss,” Friday says, pulling Tony out of a dream. “You have an incoming call from Ned Leeds.”

Tony groans, and opens his eyes.

It’s Saturday.

Ten in the morning.

He glances to the side. Pepper is already gone, and he’s gotta check the calendar for the where-to, and he clears his throat and rubs his eyes.

A call from Ned usually means trouble.

He closes his eyes, and grapples for his earpiece on the bedside table, and Friday indicates for his heart rate with a polite little trill. He ignores it, and tries not to jump to conclusions about Peter or the call, and he taps on the earpiece and answers.

“—no, it’s okay. No, I don’t need anymore, Lola, I’m full—”

“Nedjamin?”

“Mr. Stark?” Ned nearly yells. “Is that you?”

“Well, this is my number,” Tony says, rubbing his face. “As you know, or you wouldn’t be calling—”

“Sorry, I—I’m always shocked that you actually answer. Like even your personal lines must have somebody to like screen calls for you—”

“You’re on the list,” Tony says, and he can hear Ned’s little gasp—the same little gasp he always gasps when Tony says that. “What’s the problem, where’s the fire? What’s Pete done now?”

“Listen,” Ned says, and suddenly he’s whispering. “I don’t know when to take him seriously. But last night he showed up here and he was being all nonchalant and shifty about some scorpion bad guy poisoning him and telling him they were playing a game and that he had three days to find the antidote or he’d die.”

Tony’s eyes snap open.

“He was just saying it was fine and he was probably not even poisoned and like he was a little beat up but not more than normal, you know, his normal amount of—either way, he’s not taking it seriously and he’s not telling you and three days is not a lot of time—like, it’s not even four days—”

“Mmkay,” Tony says, sitting up, feeling like someone’s lit a fire under his ass. “Okay. I’m gonna go get him. I’m gonna handle it.” He stands up, knees creaking, and worry is already coursing through his veins.

“He’s gonna be mad at me for telling you but it’s for his own good,” Ned says. “Three days is not a lot of time, like—to handle something like this—even if it’s fake I mean—”

“Even if it’s fake, you did the right thing,” Tony says, grabbing a gray shirt and some sweatpants. “Always better to check it out.” He sucks in a big breath, trying to focus. “Friday. Get me a lead on Peter.”

And it’s never Tony’s favorite, when Peter isn’t where he’s supposed to be.

And Tony can’t exactly say the kid is supposed to be somewhere in particular—it’s the summer time, he’s been dealt a raw hand with all the end of the world bullshit, and he’s a good kid despite Spider-Man —and not that Spider-Man makes him bad, exactly the opposite, but it…sends waves of danger into his life on a daily basis that Tony wishes he could wash away a lot better than he does.

So when Tony can’t find Peter at home, he tries not to—go off the deep end.

It’s probably fine. Peter’s had a lot of close calls that weren’t close calls at all—the type of dickheads he encounters lie a lot, to try and puff themselves up, but Tony worries that’s made the kid complacent. He himself brushes things off far too often, and he’ll wind up kidnapped or thrown in a ditch or lost on an island because he didn’t take something seriously.

Three days

When did that timeclock start

Ned was right to be concerned—

“It’s fine,” he breathes, driving around in New York’s torture tactic they call traffic, “it’s fine—it’s fine—”

He thinks of a ticking clock, thinks of three days and how that’s not a lot of time and how many times Ned repeated that, thinks that this guy could very easily be telling the truth and it could be a slow-acting poison that doesn’t even kill Pete until the last possible second, and it’s not even a week, it’s three days, and it’s less than that now because Peter decided not to call him immediately, decided to terrorize Ned instead, and tick tock, goes the clock, and Tony hasn’t even seen him yet—

“Friday,” Tony says, his voice strung-out with anxiety, “are you—”

“Boss, I was about to cut in,” Friday says, “Spider-Man is three blocks away in an apartment that does not belong to him. He broke in and he is in distress.”

Tony sucks in a breath, his eye twitching. “An apartment—dist—am I going in the right direction—”

“Yes,” Friday says, sounding too goddamn calm, even for an AI, and she trills again, for his heart rate. “I will let you know where to park.”

Tony is incapable of relaxing. It isn’t the time to relax. Nobody’s telling him to but he always feels like people are telling him to, he’s heard it so many times in his life.

The only saving grace in this situation is that the goddamn owner of the apartment isn’t home, and Peter is too savvy to let the alarm go off to alert anybody, and Tony doesn’t know why the hell he’s here why here why now does he know these people did something happen here and of course he doesn’t know why he hasn’t seen him he hasn’t gotten to talk to him yet—

And he can picture it now—SPIDER-MAN CHOOSES A LIFE OF CRIME, MORE AT 11—

“Kid,” Tony breathes, and he tries not to touch anything as he slinks inside the open door like an accomplice to a robbery, “kid—”

“TONY!”

Peter screams his name, booming and loud, louder than he’s ever sounded before. And Tony hears him before he sees him, and he staggers back and shuts the door when he hits it, and he clutches at his chest and Friday trills twice for his heart rate, a little more urgently.

And Peter is standing there in the middle of this plush, eggshell-white Central Park view.

And he doesn’t look good.

He’s pale as a sheet, his eyes bloodshot, and it looks like there’s throw-up on the front of his suit. His hair’s a mess, and his breathing is hard and wheezy.

“Don’t move,” Peter says. “Just stay right there. Stay on—on that spot right there that spot is uncompromised.”

Tony stares at him. “Uncomp—Pete, we gotta go, we can’t—we don’t know this apartment, we weren’t invited here.”

“How do you know?” Peter asks, looking at him incredulously.

“Well, were you?” Tony asks, mouth agape, feeling like the stupidest person in the world.

“This place was pulsing,” Peter says, too fast, all manic. “It was ready for liftoff, okay? That’s why I’m here but now there’s a problem. There’s a problem with the floor and it burned me three times. They say fool you once, uh fool you twice but three times, so… the whole apartment is a problem. The whole thing, I could see it from the outside and it might have fallen so…I had to go up. Here. Up here.”

This isn’t good. This isn’t good. Tony stares at him and he can feel the very very not good hanging all over the room in tendrils. “Kid, you’re not making any sense at all, okay? Can you—can you just…slow down a little bit and—”

“It’s too windy,” Peter says, shaking his head. He looks at him, sort of—looks through him, and then he focuses on him again. “Okay. Break. Team, uh—Tony. We can’t fix it now. We just need to abort, okay, just—spider, uh—spiderweb on out of here—you need to—listen, we can jump off the roof. That might be the right—the right, uh—”

“Okay,” Tony says, more concerned with every new word that leaves his mouth. “Okay, Pete, I’m gonna come over there—”

“No no no don’t move!” Peter yells, his hands outstretched in Tony’s direction.

“What?” Tony shouts, his heart slamming in his ears. “Peter.”

Peter stares down at Tony’s feet. “It’s gonna get you. It’s going to—it’s gonna start eating you like it’s been eating me.”

And Tony knew, when Peter started talking, but in that moment he really knows, like a ding ding ding game show buzzer. It sinks in his gut.

This is the poison’s fault.

And he’s stupid he’s so stupid, and suddenly it’s blindingly real and not at all a false alarm, it’s the ticking time clock in his head that he’d been tamping down on the way over here. It’s ticking, sand is running down, and it’s a race now.

A race to save him.

Too short. Not even a race. A fucking thousand yard hurdle.

Will he really die if they can’t—can Tony figure this out on his own—who the hell does he have to call who should he get—they’ve never been able to track down this scorpion asshole before and why is this gonna be any different—

He’s wasting time—

Focus, for him—

“Pete—”

“It’s like acid like a river of acid it’s everywhere,” Peter says. “You’re gonna. Just. We have to like, leapfrog—maybe I can carry you on my back—”

“Look, it’s gone,” Tony says, gesturing to the ground. “Not there, gone. Just floor.”

Peter narrows his eyes. “No, it’s still there—Tony Tony Tony—”

And he’s freaking out because Tony is walking towards him now, through—whatever LSD trip awfulness he’s imagining, and he’s gasping and gripping his hair and he reaches out and tugs him towards him when he’s close enough.

“Okay, I don’t know how you did that,” Peter says, and his eyes are wild and a little glazed. “Did it get you? It’s green. It got me, it’s some sort of—acid, acid—you’re not even in the suit, you’re—”

“Pete,” Tony says again, getting more desperate—and he holds Peter by the shoulders—

“My legs are burning, this stuff, this is stuff—it’s everywhere—are you okay?” Peter asks, breathing hard. “It—you walked right through it—we’re in trouble, we’re—”

“You’re hallucinating,” Tony says, trying to hold his gaze. “You got poisoned, and you tried to brush it off, and it’s here to kick your ass.” Too harsh, but it’s out already.

He doesn’t mention anything about three days. He doesn’t mention anything about death.

Peter’s eyes cut to the side. “No, it’s, uh—it’s real. The apartment was—and now there’s—green acid, like an entire—like it’s an ocean of green acid in here and probably outside too and it’s consuming—and it’s in here it’s like—when water comes in during a hurricane—not that I’ve ever been in—but May had that one unlucky vacation in Florida—”

“Listen,” Tony says, because he can hear the tick tock in his head. He has to get him to focus. “Listen, do you trust me? Pete, can you—”

Peter stares at him. “I think the green acid ate Ned,” he whispers, tearing up.

Tony heaves a sigh. Tick tock. “Buddy, close your eyes, and hold my hand, okay? Hold my hand, hold onto my shoulder with your other hand, and close your eyes. I have a way out.”

Peter’s eyes only go wider. “You have a way out but I can’t see it?” he whispers.

“That’s right,” Tony says, swallowing hard. “Just…trust me, okay, just—let’s go, we gotta get out of here.”

Peter stares at him for what feels like an age, and tick tock tick tock, and then he grabs Tony’s hand and latches onto his shoulder and closes his eyes.

“Okay,” Tony says, squeezing his hand a couple times as he maneuvers towards the front door. “Okay, we are—skimming over the, uh, the surface—we are walking on water—”

“Acid—”

“Acid, but it’s fine—”

He has Peter keep his eyes closed until they’re out of the building, and his heart is hammering in his ears.

Friday trills. Tony ignores.

Peter isn’t wearing his mask and he’s got the rest of the suit on and there are people around and goddamnit. Tony holds onto him and ushers him into the car and hopes he isn’t drawing too much attention.

Peter sits like he’s frozen solid, and Tony runs red lights.

Tick. Tock.

Peter grits his teeth. He’s antsy. “Are you not concerned about the roof being gone?” he asks, his voice wavering. “Because those things are…they’re all over the car, the things with the antenna and the beady eyes and the little stingers—”

“Peter,” Tony says, swerving around a slow driver in front of him, “I don’t know whether to play into this and pretend but I guess—I’m—kid, you have been poisoned by that dickhead, that scorpion guy. He poisoned you, and he—he put—” a time limit on it and you’re gonna die if I don’t fucking find his ass or synthesize a cure—

And you didn’t tell me you should have told me but I’m not gonna give you shit for it right now while you’re actively dying—

“Who?” Peter nearly yells, and he reaches up and bangs on the roof. “Tony, Tony, it’s phasing in and out now—does that mean—are we gonna quantum leap—like that show—”

“Pete, it’s not,” Tony says, reaching over and grabbing his arm and trying to keep his eye on the road. “None of these things are happening that you think—Peter—”

“I think there’s one on your—far shoulder,” Peter says, holding onto Tony’s arm. “A big one, he looks—he’s got plans, Tony—”

Tony has to pull to a stop at the next red light, and he sighs and holds onto Peter’s arm. “Kid, can you hear me? Can the logical part of your brain break through the fog and hear what I’m saying?” His voice wavers with the worry that’s trying to rise to the surface.

Peter just holds onto his arm and stares at him. His eyes are bulging out of his head and he’s clinging onto Tony’s arm like it’s his last lifetime. There’s sweat gathering on his forehead and in his hair and he looks like he’s getting paler.

Somebody honks behind them and Tony sighs, putting on the gas, still holding onto Peter’s arm.

“Tony,” Peter breathes. “I think one of them just climbed inside your ear.”

Tony puts on an actual timeclock when they get back to the new facility, and he calls Ned to get the right timing on it. Currently, he’s got two days, five hours, and fifty-three minutes.

“What is it?” May asks, over Tony’s shoulder. “Do you know what it is yet?”

Tony shakes his head. He’s still going over Peter’s bloodwork, and Helen is doing the same in her lab. He can see the tests she’s running on the screen, and they’re both cross-referencing with every known poison and every run-in any of them have had with something like this. It isn’t often that Tony gets poisoned, with his suit of choice. He wishes Peter would wear the goddamn iron spider more often.

He wishes he could keep this shit from ever happening in the first place, to any of his team and his friends but to Peter especially, but what is he gonna do? He can’t swing around in a steel box, or in a bubble, like that movie—

Tony rests his elbows on the table and rubs his eyes. He feels that pressure all over him, like he always does when Peter is in danger, but this one is different. He doesn’t think he’s been—on a time clock, with Peter’s death at the end of it.

Peter’s death, last breath, eyes going glassy—

No, no—

It sends chills down the back of Tony’s neck, it makes him feel like he’s gonna throw up—

Tick tock—

It was bad enough the first time and that wasn’t even a proper death—this would be, this could be bloody and gasping and—

“How’s he doing?” Tony asks, spinning his chair around and looking at May. He tries to keep the horrors out of his eyes.

“Um, not great,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “It seems to be just—getting worse. He still thinks there’s water rising in the room and that he’s trapped and he still thinks the ‘acid’ earlier burned up his legs, but you know that—”

“Nothing there,” Tony says, clawing at his own throat a little bit, anxiety choking him.

He cracks his jaw and blows out a breath and glances up into Peter’s room. The kid is still pacing, and he’s in there with MJ and Ned, talking close to their faces, all wild-eyed and gesturing, pulling his IV pole around. He already sweat through his shirt and he’s hardly retaining any fluids. None of the trial antidotes they’ve got lying around have worked. None of the preventative measures have prevented shit. Peter’s been rambling about someone having cloned the Avengers years ago, and how the floor keeps rumbling because there’s going to be an earthquake in the building. He keeps lifting MJ up and putting her on the bed because he thinks there’s a monitor lizard trying to eat her.

And the original wound on his shoulder is full of pus and bruised, black in some spots. They’re trying to treat that too, even though Peter barely recognizes Helen and her team when they come into his room. He always squares up, like he needs to fight them.

“This isn’t a fair game,” May says, with venom, watching Peter. She wipes her eyes and looks at Tony again, like it’s too hard to keep focusing on the problem. “But I guess we can’t expect fairness from people who want to…hurt others.”

“I’m gonna fix it,” Tony croaks, because he’s getting teary-eyed now, too, and he turns around and faces the computer and sets up the new ingredient trials. He’s still got a bunch he needs to test, it’s fine, they’re out there looking for this asshole in teams, it’s fine, he wishes he was out there looking too and that’s not fine, and if Peter was right about the clones Tony would leave his clone here and he’d be out there searching and they’d swap—

“I’m gonna fix it,” he says again, eyes cutting over to the time clock.

It’s not enough time it’s not enough time it’s not it’s—

Peter is—

The world floats and—

Of course it floats, and no, it’s not floating, it’s gravity, stupid, and—

He’s walking down the hallway one minute MINUTE HEY LISTEN YOU’RE and he’s dragging something along with him one minute and HE SAID THREE DAYS STOP LETTING IT TAKE and then the next his arm is bloody and he leans against the wall and he falls into the next room because there are no more walls and—

He braces his hand on the tile and the tile crunches into wet sand and his hand presses into it an imprint hand and footprint Hollywood Humphrey Bogart and Ben saying he had big hands for a tiny guy huh

And then there’s the monitor lizard again. Hissing and rampaging towards him.

“Stop,” Peter says, pointing at him. “She’s not here she’s—”

Then he’s in bed again. And there’s Tony. And there’s a big fire flames in the corner licking at the wallpaper and it's hot on Peter’s face and trying to singe Tony’s hair. It’s so hot it’s blue. It’s so hot it’s burning Peter’s eyes out of his head.

“This is the third time,” Tony says, and his voice is echoes, inside one of those water tubes, water spouts? Itsy bitsy spider? “No more getting up and roaming the halls, Pete, please, okay? Jesus, and stop taking out your—”

The fire gets really big before Peter can even say anything about it and it explodes in a big fireball and tries to consume the entire room, and Peter grabs Tony and tries to cover his head and hide his own face at the same time and—

“Buddy, buddy, relax, relax—”

But Peter can barely hear him above the explosions and it’s hot it’s burning it’s all over—

He groans, screwing his eyes shut, and how’s he supposed to fight fire? “It’s burning it’s—we have to get out we have to—”

“Nothing’s burning, it’s in your head, it’s in your head,” Tony says, and he’s ruffling Peter’s hair, a gentle feeling amongst all this big and bad and fire, and he’s squeezing Peter’s shoulder and then water—water is trickling out of the walls. Peter can see it over Tony’s shoulder.

“It’s in your head, okay?” Tony says, softly, and when he pulls back he phases a bit. In and out. On top of himself like a copy. Like a bad copy like when Peter used the copier at May’s work for his NYC transit project and it spit it out all inky and Peter covers his eyes with his hand.

“We can’t stop it,” he breathes, breathes, is he breathing still—

“Lemme try this one,” Tony says, and he’s still gentle, voice calm waves. “This should help, okay? We’re trying the natural steroid with the anti-toxin—it should—it should work—if the tests—if I know anything at all—”

And the room changes again.

Tony isn’t there and the room is smaller, the walls are trying to. Trash compactor. Rectangular and square and there are windows and they move and they morph and he can see the green acid is still outside and it’s rising out there, and that means people are dying, that means—it burned Peter and he’s—he’s who he is, with them they’d be burning—burning alive—

“It should have worked,” Tony’s voice, but he’s not in here. Is he in the walls? Are they squashing him? “It should have, goddamnit—”

“It’s close, everything improved there for about twenty—”

“He was practically catatonic and now he’s worse again—has Sam updated you yet, Helen, because I think he’s afraid to tell me he hasn’t found anything—I gotta fucking get out there—Happy’s out there driving around and Pepper is too and I’m fucking useless—”

“TICK TOCK,” a voice says.

A bad voice. Sounds like a stereotypical New Jersey background actor but this one Peter knows, and then he spins around on the spot and all the windows go and then the room shrinks and it shrinks fast fast fast fast too fast a not-fun funhouse and he can’t even try to stop it and he throws his arms out but the walls crush him into something small—

“FUN GAME, HUH, SPIDER? CLOCK IS TICKING DOWN. THEN I WIN.”

Peter is running—

—but there’s nothing, there’s nothing it’s blackness and echoes and nothing anywhere, except when he steps on something it zaps him, like a taser, and it makes him tremble and his face sags and the aftershocks run through him and he feels off course, and he tries to run in the opposite direction but what’s the opposite direction in a void and he’s zapped again, and he tries to go—a couple steps back and—it’s so dark he can’t see and when he tries to yell nothing comes out, nothing, and he grabs at his own throat and tries to pull his voice out and—

A full body zap and he collapses, seizing—

In the room again.

In the bed.

Handcuffed, to the bed. Soft straps, around his wrists and his ankles, connecting to the bars of the bed.

“How the hell did he even get in that room?”

“God, I don’t know—how does he get anywhere—”

Tony and May are on either side of him, and the acid is in the room again. They’re sitting on the bed so they’re out of the way of it but it’s rising, and Peter swallows hard, peering down at it.

“I can get out of these,” Peter says, and he tries to concentrate and break them, and it’s usually so easy, it’s usually very easy, and he breathes hard, watching the acid break and splash against the wall. It eats away at it. “Tony, May, why would you—”

“You keep getting up and hurting yourself,” May says, and she sniffles, and she—her face is in darkness. He can’t see her face. “You don’t have much time and you keep—”

“May—”

Tony’s voice, but he can’t see his face either, they’re both, they’re—their faces, they don’t have faces they don’t have faces no eyes nose mouth nothing nothing—

He closes his eyes and keeps rattling the handcuffs. Why aren’t they breaking? Why aren’t they?

“You’re weak right now,” Tony says, and Peter squeezes his eyes shut because he can’t—he can’t look he can’t—

“We didn’t wanna do it, Peter,” Tony says, feeling shame, watching him thrash around.

And if this was normal, he’d try to convince him to stay still, to stop getting up and breaking into storage rooms and labs and they’d take them off, but he’s—he’s barely in there. Barely lodged in his own head. The hallucinations are too strong and they barely have a day left. They haven’t found Scorpion and they haven’t figured it out themselves—

And is Peter going to die like this? Wasting away, handcuffed to the medbay bed by two of the people who love him most?

He’ll uncuff him if he’s dying and what kind of thing is that to fucking say what kind of thing is that to even think to even fathom—

A wave of horror goes through Tony’s entire body and he reaches for the right cuff—

“Tony, he’ll be out in five seconds flat,” May says.

“Not if we’re in here—”

“We were in here before and he got past us—”

“Please, Tony,” Peter says, and he’s still trying to break them, and he just might, if he keeps trying. Not all of his strength is gone. Not yet.

Peter’s eyes are teary and pleading, and he looks so pale, so tired. “Please, the acid is—it’s rising and if I’m cuffed here I’ll—you guys can get out but if you leave me cuffed here it’ll—it’ll burn it’ll kill me—”

Tony feels insane. He can’t take this. He leans forward, holding Peter’s shoulder with one hand and cupping his face with the other. “Listen,” he says, and Peter is looking at him, but that hasn’t meant much, since this started. “Listen. There’s no acid. You’ve been poisoned, and you’re dying, Pete, you’re dying. We’re trying to help but we—we…” His voice gets caught again and he shakes his head, but Peter is still looking at him.

He doesn’t wanna say that out loud he doesn’t want to acknowledge it because it can’t be true it can’t—

“It was Scorpion,” May says, and she’s rubbing Peter’s left arm up and down. “If you know, anywhere inside you, baby, if you know where he might be—anything, any possibility—”

“May, you gotta let me go,” Peter says, and he shakes them both off, thrashing harder. “The acid, the acid, I’m gonna drown—I gotta—”

Tony gets up, turning around and covering his face with his hand. He can’t stand it. He can’t fucking stand it. He’s shaking and he feels like he’s gonna pass out.

“Peter, baby, please,” May whispers.

“May, please let me go,” Peter pleads. “Please, please, the acid—”

“I’m gonna go fly around,” Tony says, dizzy and sick, the time ticking away in his head. “I’m gonna go—search for myself.”

“Tony,” May calls, but he doesn’t look back.

The acid is licking at the edges of the bed now, splashing up onto Peter’s legs and burning him. Peter sobs and grits his teeth and keeps trying, keeps trying, thrashing and wearing rug burns onto his wrists and ankles and maybe this wasn’t Tony, maybe this was the clone, and the acid is rising up and rising up and Peter tries to hold his arms up as much as he can and the windows are back and swapping around on the walls like bad Tetris and he’s about to yell out for May when—

Scorpion. Big Scorpion. In the corner of the room.

Laughing at him.

And the acid seems to cling to him when he moves. Like a neon sign.

And after six hours of looking all over God’s green earth, after watching Peter’s time dwindle to just under a day, May calls to tell Tony that Peter is gone.

“Gone?” Tony screams, nearly crashing into One Vanderbilt.

“Not dead,” she says, and the crying doesn’t help. “But gone, he—broke out of the cuffs when I went to get him something to eat. He was really bad off, it was getting—so bad, and I left and I wasn’t gone for long and he just—now we can’t—everyone is looking, everything is activated—”

“Friday,” Tony stammers, and she confirms by throwing it all up on the screen.

May gasps and tries to keep talking. “He—doesn’t have a suit, we didn’t—see him take one, and there’s not—no tracking, but we’re—”

“I’ll find him,” Tony breathes, changing his trajectory.

And it feels like another lie.

He couldn’t come up with an antidote. He couldn’t find Scorpion. He couldn’t even make Peter comfortable, couldn’t soothe him, couldn’t counteract anything, and worse yet the last thing he did before he left was handcuff Peter to the bed, a severe breach of trust no matter what the hell’s going on, and he shouldn’t have done it, he shouldn’t have, he should have just kept chasing him down, bringing him back, but he was going into other rooms and electrocuting himself on old machines, for God’s sake—

And Tony searches and searches and he doesn’t even register the time until the clock runs out.

The clock runs out.

It runs out, all zeroes, and Tony is in the air in Queens and everyone else is scattered and the time runs out. The three days, they ran together like watercolor, like broken glass in the trash bin, and it’s over and it’s done and he’s—he’s—

He’s not in front of them, so they don’t know.

Tony gets a few calls, but he ignores them, setting his jaw and trying not to cry.

He can’t be dead he can’t be he can’t be—

They’d send messages if they’d found Peter, if they’d—

Tony keeps searching. He can’t breathe but he keeps searching.

“Friday, take that shit off the screen,” Tony rasps, trying to see through his tears.

The zeroes disappear.

And Peter doesn’t come home.

Tony doesn’t like the phrase ‘presumed dead’, and yet, somehow, the news starts splashing it across their headlines about seven hours after the time clock runs out.

SPIDER-MAN PRESUMED DEAD, and it’s everywhere, on all the networks, to the point where reporters start showing up at Stark facilities, including their new home base. And Tony doesn’t understand why, or what the fuck happened, and he hasn’t eaten and he hasn’t gone back and he hasn’t stopped looking, so what the hell do they know that he doesn’t?

“Nothing,” Rhodey says, on the phone. “They don’t know anything, Pepper and I interrogated Don at CNN and he just got a tip, a bunch of them did, but they don’t know anything for real.”

“They don’t have any actual information?”

“Just a story,” Rhodey says. “No sightings, no anything, I don’t know why they’re taking it seriously. Pepper is with May, she’s—not dealing with any of this well, and I know you’re not either, so you need to—you should come home, just for a little bit, okay? Just to eat, just to see us, and then—”

“No, I gotta keep looking,” Tony says, continuing his scans and sweeps of the street. He’s sure Iron Man’s presence in the sky isn’t doing them any favors in terms of the story.

And what is he looking for? A dead body? A miracle?

“Tony.”

“Rhodey, I gotta keep—I gotta keep looking.”

And he does, and he doesn’t find anything. He essentially starts going door to door and he doesn’t fucking find anything. He shakes Electro out of his cave and he doesn’t know shit, he finds that rat gang of assholes and they don’t know anything either.

And Tony comes home after a day and a half and nearly passes out. From not eating, from exhaustion, from grief, from too many zeroes and too much silence. That headline. Failure.

The ghost of Peter’s face—

You need to come to terms—

No. No.

He sits in a dark room with half a bagel and he can’t face May. He can’t face MJ or Ned or his own wife or anybody that loves Spider-Man.

He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t do anything, at all. He was completely and utterly fucking useless. No wonder Peter didn’t come to him.

Where is his body gonna be? Who’s gonna find it? What will he be wearing in his casket? The kid doesn’t like suits.

Tony covers his face with his hands. His breath comes out in tremors.

And Tony feels like he’s hallucinating now. Everything moves in stop-motion.

“Come sleep,” Pepper says, kissing his forehead. “Just for a little while.”

He says something back to her. He doesn’t know what it is, and she gives him that look, like she pities him, like she wishes she could take it all away. But she kisses him again and leaves, and he’s alone, terrified he might see May around the corner.

He drifts, lost in his own pain and failure, and the memories and Peter’s chit-chat and everything he’ll never get to say again, and Tony’s just about to leave to suit up again when he gets the alert.

“Boss, Peter Parker is at door B5 on the second level.”

Everything comes to a screeching halt. It catches up with itself.

Tony leaps to his feet, and Friday trills for his heart rate. It seems like the world is thrown off its axis for a second—or it’s reset back on it—

Tony reaches for something that isn’t there, trying to steady, trying to—

Peter. Peter. Peter at the door?

Not dead. Not dead. What the fuck is going on?

“Peter?” he breathes, already moving, not of his own accord. “Friday, it’s—are you—are you sure—”

“Peter Parker, B5.”

And Tony races there. Doesn’t think. Races through the empty hallways and nearly busts his ass on the stairwell. And when he reaches the door he can hear someone trying to scan in, and failing, more than one time, and he feels like an alarm would have already gone off if Friday didn’t know who it was.

“Friday, let him in—”

And the door opens just as Tony grabs the handle, and Peter stumbles inside.

Tony catches him when his legs give out, and Peter laughs a little bit, holding onto Tony’s arms.

He laughs. A laugh.

“Hey, hey,” Tony stutters, and he kicks the door closed and gets a hold of Peter around the waist. “Jesus, Jesus Christ—sitting or standing? I can do either one. Expert at either one.”

Alive alive he’s here—

“Uh, standing,” Peter says, gripping Tony’s arm and his shoulder. “Geeze, sorry. Still…wobbly.” He finally looks up at him—his eyes are so much brighter, and he’s gotten some of his color back.

Alive. Alive, not dead. Alive, solid, real.

How? How?

“What the hell happened?” Tony breathes. He glances around, panic rising in his throat, and he feels dizzy. “No, you know what, I choose sitting, I forgot there was a couch here—c’mere, c’mere bud, easy, easy—”

Peter snorts. “Okay yeah—good idea, uh—”

“Tell me what happened,” Tony says, moving them over there, sitting down. He keeps an arm around him, and brushes his hair back from his forehead so he can see his face better.

Disbelief. He can barely breathe he can barely think—

Peter shakes his head, closes his eyes, sags into Tony’s side. “Um—it’s still like, a mess, in my head, but I think like—I don’t know, I saw Scorpion, in the hallucination, and I—the acid, that I thought was there, it like—it pointed to him. And when I broke out of the handcuffs—”

“I’m so sorry,” Tony says, his face burning. “I’m so sorry.”

“No—I—listen, I get it, it’s okay—but the acid, it kept—even when he disappeared, the acid was neon and made like a trail and I—found him. I don’t know. I don’t know why it worked. Maybe something like a signature in the poison he made and my brain and him—I don’t know.”

He really looks at Tony, and Tony can see he’s bloody at the corner of his mouth, and he’s got a black eye.

Tony’s heart lurches. “Are you okay?” he asks, tipping Peter’s chin towards him, and Peter nods. “You got the—”

“I got it,” Peter breathes, nodding slowly. “Antidote. He actually seemed impressed—”

“Where is he now?” Tony says, blinking, feeling displaced.

“I left without a suit, so—I—he was in this warehouse. They’re always in a warehouse. I just piled as much shit on top of him as I could without killing him. He was knocked out, it was—hard but it’s—he should still be there.”

Tony nods. He’s gotta get somebody on that.

He’s shaking with the emotion of it all, and he stares at him, tries to believe it, tries to live in it. He’s here. He’s here.

Tony deflates a little bit, and he leans forward and presses his forehead to Peter’s, closing his eyes. “Jesus, Pete, I thought you were dead.”

“Me too,” Peter says, laughing a little bit. He pats Tony’s knee. “Can’t get rid of me that easy though, so—don’t, uh—sorry, my brain is still mushy peas.”

“It’s okay, it’s—we gotta tell May, she’s been half insane—”

And like clockwork, Tony hears her coming down the stairs.

“Tony,” she’s yelling, and Tony peels away from Peter to look. “Tony, I heard—Friday sent a notification—”

She sees Peter, stuttering in her tracks briefly, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. But then she’s running again, at full speed, and Tony helps Peter stand up.

“Hey May,” Peter breathes, and she rushes at him, wrapping him up in her arms.

“Oh, my baby,” she says, clutching at him. “My baby, Peter, you’re alive. You’re alive, thank God, thank God.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, rubbing her back, looking a little unsteady on his feet. “The news, uh—I told you they get it wrong a lot.”

“Come on,” Tony says, patting Peter’s shoulders. “Let’s—let’s go get you checked out.”

Happy goes to pick up MJ and Ned. Pepper deals with the news and the police. Rhodey heads out with Sam to get Scorpion and put him away for good.

And Tony and May watch while Helen checks Peter out. His levels are all getting back to normal, for real this time. His body is recovering, and the hallucinations are gone. Peter still has the “antidote bottle” that asshole gave him, and Helen takes it to test, to make sure they’ll have everything covered for next time.

Next time. There better not be a next time. Tony’s heart can’t take it.

“He did it all himself,” Tony says, when he and May are heading back into the room where Peter is. “I didn’t help at all—actually, I hindered. I actively hindered.”

“You kept him safe, and he felt safe, even if he didn’t really know it,” May says. “He feels comfort in us, even if we can’t—fix it, every time.”

Tony blows out a breath.

“And I know you want to be able to fix it,” she says, as they reach the door. “But you wanted him to be better than you, didn’t you? You said that to him once?”

He freezes. It hits him like a pile of bricks, but all she does is smile. She opens the door and they walk inside and Peter is already getting out of bed.

“No more acid?” May asks, glancing back at Tony.

“No more acid,” Peter says. He crosses his arms over his chest, and shakes his head. “I barely remember any of it. Just sort of like—flashes of a very bad movie.”

“Yeah,” Tony croaks, emerging from his shock. “You broke into Beyoncé’s apartment.”

Both Peter and May whip their heads up to look at him.

“Beyoncé?” they both nearly yell, in unison, and Tony snorts.

“No,” he says. “I don’t know.” He feels hazy still, and he swallows hard, trying to focus. “C’mere, I need a—real hug, real quick.”

“You mean not quick at all?” Peter asks, smiling at him with that bright, familiar smile that was lost the past couple days.

Could have been counted down to being lost forever.

Tony hugs him, squeezes his eyes shut, and doesn’t think about that. He rubs Peter’s shoulder and sways them both a bit, and doesn’t think about that. There’s no more ticking in his head, and Peter’s…Peter’s back.

“Maybe it was Beyoncé’s apartment,” Tony says, before the emotions overwhelm him, cradling Peter’s head. “It’s not out of the question. We’re gonna have to find out.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to—resolve that before the Beyhive finds me,” Peter says, still hugging him. “They’ll figure out my identity immediately.”

Tony pulls back, shaking his head at him. “I don’t know what a Beyhive is.”

“Don’t cross them, that’s what I’m saying,” Peter says. “And the other thing I’m saying is, I’m extremely hungry, and I might…I might die, if we don’t resolve that sooner rather than later.” He raises his eyebrows. “Tick tock.”

He’s trying to be cute and funny, to make them feel better, like things are getting back to normal after another round of hell courtesy of Spider-Man’s enemies. But Tony and May look at each other with a different kind of understanding of that phrase now.

“Okay,” Tony says, wrapping his arm around Peter’s shoulders, while May gently takes his elbow. “That, I can help with.”

#iron dad #tony stark #peter parker #irondad #iron man #spider-man #works by iron_spider #irondad fic #marvel fic

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manicplank · 8 months

Text

What do they do all day? (More headcanons) I am very bored.

Peppino: Delivers pizzas, but business is shit sooo... He and Gustavo probably play cards while waiting for orders. At home, he watches T.V. or learns new dances. Unbelievably flexible for his age and weight. Goes to Noisette's movie nights every now and again.

Gustavo: Outside of the restaurant, he still loves to cook. He takes his time cooking himself a good dinner (and sometimes will invite Peppino over for a meal. He worries about him.) He likes to teach Brick new tricks or simply pets him. They like to watch shows together. Goes to Noisette's every Monday for movie night.

BONUS Brick: Naps! Big on naps! Likes to snuggle up to Gustavo or lays his head on Gustavo's lap. Has some toys around that he likes to play with. His favorite toy is Gus's shoes.

Mr. Stick: Works in finances, probably works full time. Outside of work, he gambles or stays home and watches whatever show is trending. He either loves it or hates it. Very critical. Enjoys a good nap quite often. Might have a drink or two after 5. Sometimes goes to movie night at Noisette's.

Pepperman: PAINTS, DUH. Outside of painting, he probably does models, like cars or rockets or whatever. He's always trying some new form of art. Tried origami, but his fingers were too big. Definitely cried over it. Not invited to Movie Night Mondays.

The Vigilante: Works on the farm. Feeding the cows, cleaning the pastures, bailing hay, etc. He cries happily every time a calf is born. Loves the farm life, it brings him peace and joy. He prefers it over being the sheriff. However, he usually only works when there's a bounty involved since the western district is pretty quiet crime wise. Goes to Noisette's every other Monday for movie night.

The Noise: Works A LOT. Whether it be on set or in office, he works anywhere from 8-12 hours depending on the day. Typically takes a nap when he gets home unless it's close to dinnertime. After that, he might watch an episode or two of something (and criticizes it, much like Mr. Stick. He thinks his shows are almost always better.) Sometimes he might play a bit of video games. On his days off, he practices skate tricks, naps, or gets into trouble. Might "accidentally" get a little too drunk in The Pig City and have to call Noisette for a ride home. Doesn't usually participate in Movie Night Mondays, because he doesn't like the people. Calls his mom every Tuesday.

Noisette: The cafe is only open 3-4 days a week from 5 a.m. to 12 p.m., with her getting home around 1 or 1:30. She has a group of friends, her girls, who she goes to brunch with occasionally. They definitely gossip. I imagine them like a younger, less boring version of Sex and The City. While Noise is gone, she watches his shows. For some reason, he gets all bashful when she watches them while he's around. She's his #1 fan, after all. She also watches a lot of cheesy shows and movies. Loves romcoms and chick flicks. Hosts Movie Night Mondays with just about everyone she knows. Except Pepperman. She despairs him.

Fake Peppino: Depending on the day, he will sit and stare at the wall ALL DAY. He doesn't always need entertainment. He might help out Gerome and clean up whatever Gerome simply can't stomach (guts, bones, etc.) Some days, he's silly. He'll zoom around the slum. He might want to play. (Stated in a previous post) He likes to play fetch and tug if war, typically using something important... Like a gun or a knife. Something he isn't supposed to have, he will pick up and run away from whoever is trying to take it from him. Only allowed to explore the rest of the tower when SUPERVISED, typically being kept on some sort of leash. Pizzahead refers to this activity as "walking the frog." Goes to Noisette's every Monday for movie night.

Pizzaface: Surprisingly, he's typically on autopilot unless it's SHOWTIME. He floats around the tower keeping everything and everyone in check. Basically a security guard. Plays cards in the saloon with Noisette every now and then. Might knock over one of Pepperman's statues for a laugh. Might go to Vigi's and pet a cow. Might argue with The Noise just for the sake of pissing Noise off. Sometimes has long talks with John or Gerome, feels bad that they got caught up in the tower mess.

Pizzahead: Works in the lab a lot. Always trying to create the perfect clone. Sometimes will tinker with Pizzaface's mechanics. Goes to the cafe every now n then to grab a coffee and chat with Noisette. Dresses up like a cowboy and has a drink at the saloon. Stalks Peppino. Might take the frog for a walk. Not allowed at The Fun Farm after he tried to steal a baby cow. "It was just so cute!" Will talk to John on the fifth floor, much to John's dismay. He also chats with the toppin monsters and tinkers with their gears. Always goes to Movie Night Mondays, he and Noisette are besties despite her not realizing that he's the "Pizzaboy Guy."

Pillar John: Stares at the wall. He can't do much else since he's stuck in the fifth floor bound by cheese. Might chat with Pizzahead out of boredom, even if he doesn't like him. Talks with Gerome at any chance they get. Made good friends with Gustavo while Peppino was running through the levels. Wishes he could go to Movie Night Mondays. Also wishes he could go to the cafe and order some food (crazy, I know, but based off the treasures used to resurrect him in the end, I think it's safe to assume he'd eat LITERALLY anything.)

Gerome: He doesn't get to do much of anything but his job. Might sneak away for lunch, a nap, or to chat with John. Goes to the cafe for a coffee. Might have a chat with Peppino or Gustavo. Mostly avoids everyone else. Wishes he could go to Movie Night Mondays, Noisette still invites him every single week.

#pizza tower #the noise #noise #headcanon #pizzahead #noisette #peppino #peppino spaghetti #pillar john #pizza tower gerome #gerome #pizza tower gustavo #brick the rat #fake peppino #pepperman #the vigilante #mr. stick

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kittenwalker · 2 years

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I had the idea of evan and actress reader reading tons of thirst tweets together. Just saw a lot of videos and thoughy it would be nice with evan too omg. You can chose if you wanna write with both or not.

notes : this is very short and shitty but I had a hard time writing the speech and actions together so like yea just a little blurb :) Also evan and reader are just best friends. Enjoyyy

“ Alright ready? “ the producer asked. Y/n looked in the mirror and touched up her hair a bit before nodding her head. “ Okay action! “ The cameras started rolling as Evan introduced himself first. “ Hey Buzzfeed, I’m Evan Peters with the lovely Y/n Y/l/n and today is another ungodly episode of thirst tweets. These are actually going to traumatise me. “ He laughed and slid a hand over his face. “ Don’t worry you’re not alone “ Y/n patted his back, both of them making sad pouting faces.

“ Oh don’t make them think we kidnapped you here and forced you two to do this! “ One of the crew members shouted from behind, making everyone burst out laughing, lighting up the atmosphere. Both the actors pulled out their phones and clicked into twitter, the horrifying and chaotic app. “ Alright shall I do the honours of doing the first one? “ Y/n asked Evan. “ Yes please, I don’t think I’m ready. “ Evan took a deep breath in and heavily blew it out, making you chuckle.

“ Whenever I see Y/n on screen I can only think of letting her sit on my face and me eating the fuck out of her. “ Her eyes were widening as she was reading it. “ Woah already on a great start here Y/n “ Evan gave a funny worried look. “ Yea uhm, well I appreciate being on your mind and hope I taste good in your dreams? “ She shrugged and made an uncertain expression. Seeing that Y/n didn’t have anything left to say, Evan started with his first tweet.

“ When I stumble along a video of Evan, my vibrator suddenly appears in my hand and bussy is purring. “ Evan laughed out loud and shook his head in disapproval. “ God these people on twitter need to be controlled! I’m disappointed in you people on this app. “ Evan put a hand on his chest and acted like a disapproving dad, making Y/n playfully hit his shoulder and laugh at him. Them grinning at each other brightly, “ Okay my turn, this is funner than I thought kinda disturbing but that’s the twist to it. Alright next one, Y/n seems like a great person to have a smoke with while watching a sunset, making out with her till the dusk takes over the sky. “

“ Aww, that’s actually really cute and should’ve been the first one I started out with. Well if you have time we can go have a smoke together, I’m free tomorrow in fact. “ Y/n joked, making a hand into a phone and putting it to her ear, mouthing the words ‘ hook me up ‘ with her wiggling her eyebrows. “ Don’t worry about her people, she’s just desperate for friends, she’s a loner. “ Evan used his large hand and covered Y/n’s face. “ Hey! I choose to be alone sometimes okay “ She scolded Evan, smacking his hand away. He put up his hands in defeat and cackled, “ I trust you, but remember when you’re lonely I’m here to cure it “ Evan placed his hands onto her hand and puckered up his lips while smiling.

“ Yea yea yea, read your next one big boy “ Y/n gestured to his phone. Evan focused his gaze back onto his phone and scrolled to the next tweet. “ I would like for Evan to push me against the wall with his hand around my neck, choking me, then smashes his lips against mine and we have a very heated make-out. “ Hearing him read out his tweet, Y/n almost spat out her water. She was shocked, who knew the internet was so wild and brave to say such things. “ Bravo you’ve got your first nasty one that WILL haunt your dreams tonight. “ Evan just stared at his phone disgustingly, poor man is disturbed.

“ Well firstly, I’m traumatised. Secondly, I would never choke anyone because I am not a sadist myself and wish to not hurt anyone. “ Evan placed his phone faced downwards and wiped imaginary sweat off his forehead. “ Yea guys don’t misunderstand that he’s a sadist, because he’s actually a secret masochi- '' “ Guys please don’t listen to this little girl she doesn't know anything that’s coming out of her mouth. “ Evan interrupted her by putting a hand over her mouth. Taking this as an opportunity, Y/n pinched him arm away, making Evan wince.

“ See everyone! I just got it on black and white that Evan enjoys painnn. “ Not giving a single second for Evan to respond, Y/n moved on to her last tweet. “ Okay last one, let’s get a juicy one. Ah this one, I’m literally so gay for Y/n I wish I could make her feel so good. “ Oh did Y/n love having an effect on both genders. “ Well my fellow, sorry to break this to you but Miss Y/l/n sexuality isn’t colourful. “ Evan said while still soothing his pinched skin. “ Welllll you’re wrong, I actually don’t have a label so you freaky fellows still have chances. “ Y/n smirked while squinting her brows together.

“ Omg you’re saying I have a chance too!? “ Evan dramatically gasped while flicking his wrist. “ Nahh you’re just my best friend “ Y/n wrapped her arms around his shoulders while smushing him closer to her. “ Way to go for friendzoning me “ Evan mumbled into her hair as he pretended to cry. “ Your welcome, now read your last tweet crybaby I can’t handle this suffering any longer “ Picking back up his phone he read the last and final tweet to end this pain.

“ I wish Evan Peters could smash a laptop on my tits right now, oh come onnn. Why is it always violence? “ Evan sighed. “ Oh well at least it’s over, now put down that phone and delete that app later. You're too sweet for it. “ Y/n suggested as she funnily pushed off his phone patted his head, acting like his mum.

“ WELL uhm that’s it for today’s disturbing thirst tweet, uhm buzzfeed please never invite us again though it was our pleasure to be here.” Evan unexpectedly shouted his sentence, making Y/n jump and her making a ‘ are you crazy ‘ face. “ Yes thank god let’s please wrap this up but also don’t forget to watch our latest movie American Animals streaming on netflix and hulu. “

Y/n was so glad to wrap this up because all she learned today was that she made the right choice of not being on the internet.

#evan #evan peter x reader #evan peters #evan peter smut #evan peters imagine #evan peter fluff #evan peters oneshot #evan peters smut #evan peters drabble #evan peters one shot #evan peters blurb #ahs #american horror story #ahs smut #ahs fandom #tate langdon #kit walker #james patrick march

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canonicallysoulmates · 2 years

Text

J2 Gold Panel Dallascon 2023

The boys today are in full swing, they're joking around making each other laugh, they're a little flirty, they are just in such a good mood and you can tell from the moment they get on the stage.

Jared does a little kick which is so cute and after Jared asks Jensen if it feels like they're twice as high as they usually are Jensen jokes that yeah but he did have some edibles that morning, and then he turns towards the big screen they have behind them that has a big banner with two pictures of them and he asks what's up with Jared's photo because he looks high....and Jared replies that what happened was that the picture got cropped so you don't see Jensen's left hand...I have no words.

And then there's Jared trying to recreate his stare in the photo and Jensen's left hand- just click on the link and watch: 😂

The first question is not a question it’s a fan thanking them, the show has a very special meaning to them because it's something that they watched with their grandad; Jared says that hearing stories from people about how the show helped them connect with their loved ones is one of the things that kept them going for so many years and when they were missing their families. x

The actual first question comes from an English teacher who sometimes uses SPN episodes in her drama units, like she used French Mistake to teach about breaking the fourth wall, and wants to know if they have episode recommendations that she could use for lessons. Jared recommends showing the movie Groundhog Day, and the ep Mystery Spot. The reason he brings up Groundhog Day is because he watched it this past week with their kids while they were all home because of icepocalypse. !!!!!!!!! Y'all already know I listened to this part multiple times, at different speeds, at different volume levels. This man said: "I just watched this movie last week with our kids when we were all home cause of icepocalypse". To me it sounds like Jensen and his three kiddos spend the ice storm with Jared and the other three kids.

But as I always say, don't take my word for it, here's the timestamp. Listen for yourself and form your own opinion.

Getting back to the answer Jensen asks him what the lesson would be for Mystery Spot and Jared replies the lesson is probably: you get another chance tomorrow, and try to make everyday count cause you never know when it’s your last or when you get to do it again the next day.

Jensen says that for a lesson in overcoming your fears, Yellow Fever. x

What’s their favorite quote? Jared jokes "leave the gun, take the cannoli." That's a line from the Godfather film. His real answer is: "pain is mandatory suffering is optional". And for Jensen one he likes a lot is: "taking care of yourself takes care of more than yourself."

Then Jared brings up another movie quote, "dude you got a fucking dart in your neck" which is from the movie Old School. This man spend the time he was stuck in the house watching old movies, I can tell. He also says people don’t have feelings, feelings have people. Which Jensen is confused by and doesn’t think it makes sense, but Jared explains that what he gathers from it is feelings are not pathological you can be angry or jealous but that's not who you are. x

When are Sam and Dean going to come back down to Earth? Jensen jokingly says season 16. Then says seriously, that that’s hopefully something that gets addressed when they get the call asking if they want to put their boots back on. x

What was their favorite kill? Some in the crowd call out Ruby, and Jensen laughs saying that technically he killed her, and Jared smiles and says to the crowd "are you reading my mind?"

Jensen's answer is Chuck. It wasnt some random monster of the week kind of thing it was somebody they had many years of work together and a friendship so whenever they get to work with people they have a great history and relationship with it makes it a little bit elevated, but he’ll take a good vampire nest killing everyday.

Jared says he didn't like killing this character but as a storyteller he's going to go with Rowena because it was so difficult. Says Ruthie is the most wonderful person on the planet, and she was fantastic as Rowena but that dynamic between her and Sam- it was so tragic to him to think of Sam having to kill her, it was so difficult he remembers the day vividly, it was truly emotional. He mentions that when the character of Bobby died they talked to the producers and the writers, and they said they didn't like it either but it’s great television and the boys were like fair enough so that was kind of an initial lesson; and when the Rowena and Sam storyline came to its conclusion that was really powerful for him. x

The next fan wants to know something cool about the boys that you wouldn't be able to find online. Jared says he’s done a questionnaire a few times, and guessing about Jensen, and it's turned out they're both introverts. They'd much rather stay home than go to a red carpet; extroverts feel energized being in front of the cameras but they much rather chill. x

Next fan has two questions, the first is that they want to know if the mic stand that Jared has is the one that Jensen threw down at the SNS concert the previous night because Jared keeps adjusting it. Jensen says he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, then he asks if he really did break a stand last night, the crowd replies yes and he goes 'listen, when i come on stage and there's music I black out'. And he, once again, asks if he really did break that stand, crowd continues to say yes, he says 'well, shouldn’t have been there'. 😆

The second question is, did Jensen think about how much his recognition would grow after appearing on The Boys? He answers that he doesn’t think he and Jared go into any of these jobs, roles,or stories thinking about the impact it'll have externally. They get hired to do a job and they take it seriously, even thought it might not look like it all the time, but they have a lot of fun doing the job because they truly enjoy doing what they do that being said they're not thinking about doing things because they want the effect it's going to have on a greater scale. They're just doing their job and hopefully it resonates to people and someone out there is entertained, and if that's the case they have done their job.

Jared mentions that 5 or 6 years ago the powerball prize was like 2 billion dollars, and they bought like 20 bucks of tickets. The draw was on Saturday, on Friday they’re on set filming, it's 4am, they’re tired, they’re miserable, they're flying soon and they look at each other and ask "if you win tomorrow are you coming into work on Monday?" And the answer for both of them was yes. If somebody went up to them and said they were filming a movie for the next month and it was going to be long hours but it would make a billion dollars in the box office, or long hours but they were never going to release it, it would make no difference they would still do everyday just as hard. He just does the hardest work he can and it's therapeutic for him as well to explore different lives and lifestyles and relationships so wether you tell him it’s an independent film that will never get released or Avatar he will work just as hard. And so will Jensen. x

Last question! The fan tells Jensen that he owes her sister 24 beers because last year she asked him to go out for her birthday beer and this fan had said that because she was turning 24 it should be 24 beers, and he had said she (fan asking the question) could go with them but she wasn't 21 at the time but she just turned 21 so now she can go and that would be 21 beers. I'm mentioning all this for only two reasons cause it has nothing to do with her question, reason number 1 is that when the fan tells Jensen about him owing her sister a beer, Jared grabs Jensen's coffee out of his hand and acts like he's going to give it to her and Jensen has no reaction, he just lets him take it and waits for him to put it back in his hand, like Jared taking his coffee is the most normal thing in the world. Which it probably is because they 100% do seem like the type of couple that shares coffee.

The second reason is that when the fan mentions that he owes her 21 beers on top of her sisters 24, Jared says that's 45 beers and Jensen stops, looks at him and goes "you do math fast!" all impressed. It's quite cute cause Jensen's all 😍 and you can tell Jared's proud of himself.

Anyways the last question is, what is their version of self care? Jared says that he’s been watching Limitless with Chris Hemsworth on Clif’s recommendation that it’s really meaningful, and fun, and interesting and a lot of the stuff that's talked about on the show really resonates with him. He is very similar, he has a though time winding down, and goes back to monkey brain, which is apparently what a doctor said, that's where one panics about stuff and is always worried so certain breathing excercises have helped. Also, the endurance training they did when they ran the marathon in Seattle kinda helped cause you put your shoes on, your music, your watch to check your heartrate and then you're on the road for an hour or hour and a half so you have to put everything else away, and he blames Jensen for turning him to this cause this was the training they did together. So find somewhere you can get past that really uncomfortable point of thinking you have to be doing something. Box breathing also seems to help him cause he sweats a lot, and he's anxious and nervous.

Jensen likes playing music, he’ll just sit down with a guitar and a lot of whiskey. x

J2 Gold Panel Dallascon

#j2 tinhat #this was a great panel but spoiler alert the main one was even better #can't wait to get into it but first i'm gonna take a small break #mine #noniwtv

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anxietysslave · 7 months

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Hi! Can I request dangerous fellows with a Mieruko chan Reader? Thank you!

Dangerous Fellow with Mieruko Chan Reader

Sorry, it's taken a while to get to this ask! I took a small break from Tumblr, and before writing this one I watched a few episodes of Mieruko Chan to try to understand her character a bit better! I hope you like this one! XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sue:

-Sue is one of those people who do not believe in the paranormal or anything like that. If you did tell her, it'd be really hard for her to believe you.

-She finds you crazy when you start asking her for book recommendations on the paranormal. I mean, you're living in a small school with a bunch of people who sometimes can't even keep a level head, and now you're worried about the paranormal?

-She only starts to really believe you when you stare off into the distance or randomly tear up.

It was later in the day, and Lawrence had assigned the two a patrol on the first floor. Sue didn't think this patrol would last too long, after all the zombies had seemed to be focused on something else. And you just wanted to rest more than anything. With the zombie apocalypse, it brought a lot more spirits into this world so now you see them more frequently. And their appearance got even worse. You didn't believe it was possible until now...

You looked around the small hallway, but your eyes stopped on a large figure down the hallway. Its eyes a completely black with only a single white dot to represent its pupil. Its entire stomach was ripped open, and the organs were missing entirely. It's jaw elongated and reaching the floor.

You felt your eyes tear up as you saw it. "Y/N? What are you looking at?" Sue grumbled as she walked over. "There's nothing there. It's a wall. So you better have a good excuse to wha-" Sue spoke up, but was suddenly cut off by the lights flickering. And for once... Sue saw a glimpse of the creature running off into the distance.

Her eyes widened as she dropped the thing she was holding. "W-Wait, did you... Did you see it??" You spoke quickly. Your panicked, tear-filled eyes looked in her direction. She looked just as panicked as you did if not more. "What... What the hell was that?" Sue whispered. Her head snapped in her direction as she grabbed your shoulders tightly.

"Don't... Don't tell me that's the things you've been seeing." Her voice was trembling. It was odd to see Sue trembling and afraid like you. She was usually one of the strongest ones in the group. You nodded slowly. "I-I'm afraid so..." You whispered. "Although... They all look different." You added on. You yelped in surprise as Sue hugged you tightly. "God, I'm so sorry for not believing you sooner... You're not one to lie very often." She spoke softly. "I know a few books we can look at, and if it hasn't been robbed... There is a shop nearby that may have some crosses or prayer beads to help." She whispered.

Ethan:

-Ethan had become a quiet person when the whole thing started. He had lost a lot of his friends, and he could no longer do the things he liked.

-You were one of the lucky few who he talked to and offered little gifts like chocolate.

-He noticed from the very beginning something was off with you. At first, it made him quite skeptical of you. Were you bit? Or was it something else? Either way, he came to trust you. So feel grateful!

-He tried to get you to tell him what was wrong when you'd suddenly zone out or would be hesitant to do something. But he knew he couldn't force you to say anything, so little things like chocolate or compliments were things he gave you so you'd hopefully feel better.

Out of all the statistical questions and percentages, nothing could've really calculated the situation you and Ethan were in. It had started to rain, and so now both of you were cold and there were zombies trying to get in.

You could see many spirits mingled with them. Although you didn't think these spirits could harm you, it was difficult to tell which one was a spirit and which one was a zombie. So when one of those... Things got in, and you reacted quickly. You grabbed Ethan's hand and started running with him. "Hey! What was that for!? Slow down!" Ethan spoke up. He was confused as to why you'd suddenly forced him to run with you. The zombies were still outside, but you looked like you had just seen a ghost...

And finally, when you ran into a room you let his hand go and locked the door. Ethan was surprised as he noticed the tears in your eyes. "Uh... Is... Is everything alright?" Ethan spoke. Comforting was not his strong suit, so he had no idea how to help you. He watched you slide down the door. "...That wasn't a zombie, was it?" You spoke shakily.

Ethan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What wasn't a zombie? I didn't see anything." He inquired. "...Ethan..." You whispered. "I... I don't know how to even explain this, or... Or..." You spoke but stopped. You sighed. "...I see things that aren't there. Dead people..." She whispered.

Ethan blinked a few times, clearly confused. "You... What?" He inquired. He watched you rest your head on your hand. "...I see spirits. I-I don't know why, but they're almost always there..." You whispered. "...What did this one look like?" Ethan felt like it was far-fetched, but he had to know what it was you were seeing. Because either way he knew it was freaking you out too much.

"...T-This one had half a face. I-it was so tall... It looked like it was rotting like those zombies a-and with the darkness, I must've mistaken it..." You whispered. Ethan was so surprised to hear this description. It sounded so much more real and... Horrible than he'd imagined.

He didn't really believe it was a spirit though, and figured it may have just been... Something like schizophrenia... "I-I see... Well, I promise it won't hurt either of us. We're okay." He kneeled next to you. He decided that the only option he had was to try to figure out how he could help you deal with these things. To him, it was still a mental condition, so he was going to help you find some medication or something... He was going to help you.

Zion:

-Zion had heard you mention something about paranormal stuff, and honestly he found the whole thing stupid. Zombies were one thing, but ghosts? Weird demons? Yeah no.

-When he first heard it he was quite rude to you. There was no way in hell he was going to believe that. But as he got closer to you, and got to know you more... He knew something was wrong. He couldn't quite tell what it was, but something was wrong.

-He saw you become quite and space out a lot. It worried him greatly, as whatever you said you saw freaked you out. So he decided to help you look for something to fix whatever was going on.

-He may not believe you see ghosts, but he's still worried about you. What if you get hurt because of something you think is there? He would lose a close friend, after all.

Zion was never a fan of going to the library. I mean, why read books when you could read on your phone? And also, who even liked to read books? At least... That's what he used to think. When the apocalypse started, they couldn't really read on a cell phone. And everything else was either too loud to use for entertainment, or too risky.

So he begrudgingly started to read. And when he found out your little predicament, well he'd never admit it but he ended up looking for books that could help you. Which is why you're here now. Your eyes were scanning over every hardback book cover and every word. You needed to see if there was something you could find. Maybe you were insane?

But if so... What should you do? You needed to find at least some clue on how to handle this... "Yo, I think I found something that might help," Zion spoke up. You looked over, and saw h I'm holding up an old encylepedia.

It looked... Extremely old. And the cover of the book was really odd. "Uh... Are you sure that'll help?" You questioned hesitantly as you walked over. "Well, it's weird looking... And whatever supposed paranormal things exist always look weird and witchy." Zion pointed out as he handed you the book.

You froze as you noticed a hand holding onto it that was a spirit's. "Uh... Could you... Perhaps open it for me?" You inquired softly. Zion groaned as he rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me it's one of those things." He spoke. He sighed, before opening the book. "I swear to god if we can't find something in this library, I'm going to loose it." He growled.

You looked down at the pages. "I'm... Sorry." You spoke softly. A silence covered the cold room except for some sounds of a breeze. "...Why are you apologizing? I'm not mad at you, just... Whatever is happening to you is stressing me out... I can't help you because I can't see what you are seeing." He spoke with a sigh. You gave him a gentle smile. "I'm grateful you're trying. And maybe someday we'll figure this out, and then... We can get rid of it." You tried to reassure the redette. He sighed, before giving you one of his signature grins. "Yeah. Who am I kidding!? We're going to get this thing beat!" He spoke. There's the Zion you knew.

Judy:

-Judy believes you through and through.

-She knew you when you both were younger, so she saw what happened when it started. She saw how much you had changed, and how nothing worked.

-She's been nothing but supportive and worries about you constantly.

After a long day of work around the school it was time to go to sleep. So here you were laying in bed and staring off outside the window. You had seen a lot of horrible things that day and so you were just so stressed. You knew you weren't going to be able to sleep at all. I mean, how could you? Zombies outside, spirits inside and everywhere else... Plus what kind of nightmare would you have that night? You couldn't tell.

Your eyes glanced around the old classroom and landed on a creature in the corner. You sighed shakily as you turned away from it and hoped it would go away. Of course... It didn't. You heard its gross sounds as it walked over to where you and Judy lay. You could feel your eyes tear up as you tried to block out the sounds it made, or the fear you felt as it leaned over you and muttered something about how you could see it.

"Y/N? Is it... One of those nights again?" Judy spoke softly as she looked at you. She saw you nod slowly, which made her sigh. She moved closer to you and brought you into a hug and made sure you couldn't see whatever monster was creeping over your shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Y/n... We'll get through this together! Just you and me like it's always been!" She tried to reassure them.

"And whatever is looking over your shoulder is just a creep. It can't do anything to you, even if it wanted to!" She added on. Judy was one of the best people you knew. She was so sweet and was one of the few people who ever believed you. She was the only one who helped you try to get through these nights and the horrible sights you saw constantly. A soft smile formed on your face as you closed your eyes. "Y-Yeah. You're right. And maybe... Maybe tomorrow will be a better day." You tried to reason. Judy nodded. "Of course, it will! Because we'll make it a great day! And soon when this whole apocalypse is over, we'll go back to doing our normal things I promise!" You don't know what you'd do without her...

Hailey:

-Hailey was spooked when she saw you zone off into nothing. How could you remain so unaware of your surroundings?? And why did you seem so scared of something else??

-She believed heavily in the paranormal and has always been terrified of it.

-Back before this whole shit show started, she had avoided horror movies and books. They scared her too badly...

-Honestly, if you want to keep Hailey as a friend or lover... You should never tell her the things you see.

It was around dinner time if you could even call it that... So you were sitting at the table with the others and eating some chips. For once your favorite brand was there, so you thought everything was going good. Until you saw one of those... Creatures poke their head through the glass.

You stared at it intently, trying to figure out what to do. No one else could see it, and it looked so... Inhuman. You were scared to look away because what if it attacked you? What if it attacked those you cared for? No, you'd just have to deal with it until it got bored and wandered away...

You tried to keep quiet and still as the creature walked up to you. It was babbling about how hungry it was, and how tasty you looked... "Y-Y/N? A-Are you alright?" Hailey spoke up shakily. It was quite easy to tell she was already spooked with you staring at nothing. You looked away from the spirit and towards here. "Yeah. I'm fine. I just... I didn't get much sleep last night, I'm sorry." You apologized. You stayed still as the creature shoved its face near yours, its grotesque eye staring right at you. "O-Oh. I see. P-Please be careful." She spoke softly. You nodded, as you kept quiet about the whole thing in front of me. Maybe sometime you would be able to tell her, but right now was not the time...

Eugene:

-Eugene was one of those people who didn't believe you at first, but unlike Sue and Zion, he did believe in the paranormal. Although.. He'd never admit it face to face.

-He laughed like crazy at you when you first told him. He straight-up said you were full of shit.

-Not the nicest of people when it comes to stuff like this, but... Forgive him. He's our Tsundere.

"So uh... You see any cool spirits lately?" Eugene spoke up. You two were walking back to the school after a successful scavenging. You sighed. "For the last time, I told you there are no cool spirits." You huffed. "Oh, come on! There at least has to be something cool!" He stated. "In books there are angels, there are demons, wanderers, oh, and animals! Have you seen animal spirits yet??" He inquired curiously. "I have, yes. Cats only, though." You responded. "Well better than nothing I suppose..." He grumbled to himself. He looked over as suddenly some of the lights went out from some street lamps. "Huh. Looks like the power finally wen-Holy shit!" Eugene exclaimed when he looked at the light. There was a creature crawling over there and was playing with the light bulb. He didn't protest as you grabbed his hand and yanked him away. "I-Is that what you see?" He spoke softly. "...Part of it, yes." You responded. "...I am so sorry for doubting you, holy shit." He spoke softly. "No, it's okay Eugene. I wouldn't believe someone either if they told me that." She responded.

Scarlett:

-Ghosts? Please. Are we little kids now where we hide under our beds from them? Least to say she thinks you're crazy and childish.

-She'll gossip about you like crazy. No buts about it.

-If she gets close to you, then maybe she'll listen a bit more, but you're still childish to her.

It was late at night and Scarlett was sitting in her room. She was writing some things down, chuckling to herself as she thought about how stupid it was. She had heard you mention seeing something in her room and she found it so stupid. How could you seriously believe something like that???

It made no sense to her. She stopped writing altogether as she couldn't contain her laughter which made writing harder. She stopped laughing and groaned as her pen rolled off of her leg, and made a small sound as it dropped to the floor and rolled away. "Ugh. Stupid pen..." She grumbled.

She got off of the chair she was sitting on and crawled over to get her pen. "This floor is so nasty..." She huffed to herself as she got ahold of her pen. She froze as some weird water dripped to the ground. She slowly looked up and a scream left her lips as she backed away and dropped the pen again.

There was a grotesque monster in her room... It had many different legs, and more than one eye, and overall was the worst thing she had ever seen. She got up quickly and rushed out of her room and at this point was crying. She pushed past Zion and anyone she ran past until she made it to your room. You looked up as your door was thrown open, and a small yelp left your lips as she hugged you. She was... Sobbing. "What happened???" You inquired. "I-I'm so sorry I didn't believe you before... There was... There was a monster in my room. It looked like it was going to eat me!" She cried out. You sighed softly, as you comforted her. "It's okay... It'll be gone sooner than tomorrow, I promise..." You spoke. Let's just say you spent the night comforting her.

Jay:

-Doesn't believe you one bit.

-He finds you even more suspicious when he hears about it. He questions you and then calls you dumb for believing such a lie.

Harry:

-At first you were hesitant to go to him because of his headaches, which worried Harry. At one point he finally just walked over to you to chat.

-He'd feel horrible he couldn't help you sooner. It's hard to say if he believes you, but you're still someone he cares deeply for (And likes romantically) so he trusts you with his life. And he hopes you do the same.

-I believe this man would have you be around him as much as possible. He just wants you to be okay.

It was a late night, and you were just tired and upset. You had seen so many horrible creatures that day, and all you wanted to do was go to bed. But you couldn't because of some... Creature in your room. Your eyes were filled with tears as you just wanted to not see any of these things anymore.

They horrified you; they scared you. And as you debated your options on who you could go to for help, you decided on Harry. You knew he was a good person, and you knew he wouldn't be mad. Sure you'd feel bad, but you just needed some help.

So you gently knocked on his door and when he said to come in you did. "Harry...?" You spoke softly. Harry looked up slowly, and his eyes widened. "Y/N... You're crying." He spoke in a worried tone as he got up. He rushed over to you. "You aren't hurt, are you??" He questioned gently.

You shook your head. "...I'm tired, Harry." You whispered. He tilted his head. "Tired? Tired of what? Are you alright? Do you need anything?" He spoke gently. "...I'm tired of seeing them. These... These things, these demons... These spirits, whatever you want to call them... They bother me all the time, and I'm so tired of it..." You whispered as tears fell down your face.

His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't question anymore. "It's okay... None of them can hurt you, I promise. None of us will let that happen." He spoke softly as he led you to his bed where he had you sit down. "How about you stay with me tonight? I'm really worried about you, Y/N." Harry spoke.

You sniffled as you shook your head. "I don't want to bother you, Harry... You already have your own problems..." You pointed out softly. He huffed. "Everyone does. It doesn't mean you should keep yours hidden and not accept any help. I promise you it's okay. I want you to be okay." He spoke softly. "Do you need anything? Water?" He inquired. You shook your head. "N-No... But thank you. And... And I suppose I'll take you up on that offer." You spoke softly. And you did just that. Harry watched over you the whole night and made sure you couldn't see any monsters that night.

Lawrence:

-When you first met Lawrence, you knew something was off...

-He had many dark shadows around him, some that seemed... familiar. He had an unstable aura around him, and it was concerning.

-He'd notice instantly you saw something. The way you reacted, it just wasn't normal... He was going to find out what you saw...

The whole meeting you watched those shadows that clouded over him. Each one demanding death, or to just "take her now." Although you had no idea what in the world that meant... Not many people had that many shadows attached to them, unless they were bad people. There was no way Lawrence could be, right...? He let you in the group, he watched over you, he did so much for you and the others... He couldn't possibly be.

When the meeting finally came to and end, and the others left, you stood up to leave as well. "Hey Sylvia?" Lawrence spoke up. You froze for a minute as you slowly looked over. "Y-Yes? What is it?" You inquired. "I would like to have a word with you if you're not busy," Lawrence spoke as he walked over.

"N-No... No, I'm not. What's up?" You spoke. You tried to keep a calm head. "You seemed oddly distracted during the meeting. Is everything alright?" He inquired. "Ah... Yeah. Everything's fine. I just... I had a hard time sleeping last night." You were partially true. A monster had resided in your room the whole night begging for flesh, so you didn't get that much sleep.

Although it was a lie for the reason you were distracted. You couldn't help but feel nervous as you saw his eyes narrow. "Hm... It seems to be more than that. You can trust me, you know that right?" He inquired. "after all, we're all teammates. Unless... You don't trust me, or the others?" He spoke.

He was trying to be manipulative to make you talk to him. "A-Ah... It's... Not that." You said. You fell for his trap... "I just... Would you find me crazy if I said I saw things? That wasn't there to most?" You spoke softly. He gave you an eerie smile. "Oh. Not at all. I used to be like that." He spoke up as he walked over. Your eyes widened.

"Y-You did??? How that change??" You inquired. "Well, my dear Y/N, you have to stop believing. In other things at that. And I mean truly believe it. Convince yourself the things you see are not real." He spoke up. He knew now you could see the people he'd killed who were attached to him. Although you didn't know he did kill them. So he had to change that. "I can help you so you feel better." He suggested. You smiled gratefully. "That would be... Amazing." You agreed. He was going to make sure you never knew what happened to people who interfered with you both... After all, you are his.

Okay!! I Finally finished that! I think from now on I'd prefer if you guys could tell me if you want side characters or main characters. If you want both that's cool too! Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it, and I hope I did well in your request!

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/anxietysslave/708212002841083904/masterlist?source=share

Request Board: https://www.tumblr.com/anxietysslave/689032604100558849/request-board?source=share

#x reader #dangerous fellows #headcannons #reqs open

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leffee · 6 months

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With the main 7 how do rank how often they’d want cuddles/ how affectionate they are?

I’d love to give Vinnie and penny a hug! oh and your writing is phenomenal you’ve gotten me back into watching the show!

Ok ok, so last things first, thank you thank you so much!! I'm glad you like my silly little writting, such things are really really propeling me to write for this small fandom and I'm getting proper into it. I think I might have to do a list of things I want to write out so I don't forget any ot he plots that come to me sometimes randomly sometimes not.

And I got you back into watching lps? Omg, now that's a compliment like no other! Well then, I hope you enjoy yourself ^^. Feel free to report back with anything if you want to, you know I love talking about basically anything involving lps, whether stuff that acutally happened in episodes etc or just completely made up headcanons, AUs etc.

I too want to give those two a hug, well, all of them really, but of course especially Vinnie <3. I I could I would never let him go... okay, I would, because more than wanting to hug him myself I want his friends to hug him so I could release him for that.

Now onto the questions, I'm gonna guess that you have already read it but I actually have already asked something very similar to the "how affectionate they are" question, I'll still provide a link, it's here:

Oh, that cover is terrifying

However, I can still use that as an excuse to talk about them™ in the sense of that "how often they’d want cuddles" ask. It's kinda different and I'm taking advantage of that, even if this will be probably pretty short (compared to my other answers anyway >.>):

Penny/Vinnie, I'm counting those two together in the sense how often they want cuddles because for both of them the answer is "basically all the time", just, you know, Penny's rather open about it most of the time, Vinnie on the other haaaand not really. Penny is known as the affectionate one anyway and she has been doing this for years, so no one is surprised when she says she want affection. She will also often initiate it for those reasons too.

Vinnie though, well, he won't say it at all most of the time, the best you can get out of him are nonverbal cues like getting closer to you, "accidentaly" tripping and landing on someone, just standing there are staring at you with the most intense gaze ever "...What's going on?" Sunil flinched seeing Vinnie's peculiar position "Nothing, just chilling like that." "That literally does not look like chilling one bit." Honestly, he looks like he's planning to pounce on you and gouge your eyes out. One thing though! He can use his permanent coldness as an excuse if he's really desperate, he can just say that he's cold as he awkwardly tries to initiate a hug or cuddling and say that's the only reason why he's getting closer.

See why those two are so great together? She wants cuddles all the time, he wants cuddles all the time, perfect, right? That is if Penny manages to break through the tall, tall walls of tsunderesness he exhibits when it comes to physical affection, but then again I'm pretty sure she knows how it really is with him ;) everyone knows actually oop

Minka: I think she really likes cuddling but is not up for them all the time because that requires staying in one place for sometimes long time and often she's too hyper for that. Aside from that, yipee, give her cuddles :))), he's happy to initiate or join, be prepared though because she might jump on you when you least expect it

Zoe: she prefers other forms of physical affection like kisses, but that doesn't mean she never wants cuddles because she absolutely does. At the same time she might not be up for them all the time either because she's worried (I mean, rightly so) that it will mess up her hair or create wrinkles on her clothes, maybe even destroy her make up if she's not careful. Still, wants cuddles sometimes and thinks they're great

Pepper: oh she's definitely not up to admitting that she wants any sort of hugs or cuddles most of the time just like Vinnie, but at the same time she doesn't exactly crave them that super often. Will only do it if the other person initiates them and even then she will pretend that she doesn't really like it all that much (contrary to Vinnie who after initial protests and all that once cuddled will normally go quiet about it and enjoy himself)

Sunil: he mostly wants cuddles when he's scared/worried/anxious, basically feeling any sort of negative emotions because it makes him feel safe and grounds him. Besides that, he craves them sometimes too, but not quite as often as certain others, still, he won't complain one bit at being cuddled at any point. I think he likes when someone lies on top of him cause then they're like a human blanket for him and it's just nice, squishy sort of pressure

And last but not least, Russell: hmmm I think he'd want cuddles pretty often, I know we're talking about human au, but in his case I'm following the logic that he in one episode (season 4 episode :3) said that "nobody wants to hug him because of his quills" and bby was really sad about it :(. I don't know what could replace that in human au, but anyway that's how I conclude he likes cuddling. He might be kinda like Zoe sometimes in not wanting it to happen because it might wrinkle his clothes if he's supposed to be somewhere public that day, but aside from that he's definitely not opposed to them, though I think seldom he might be a bit tsundere about cuddless too

Welp, this ended up pretty long in the end, oops. Honestly I call bs on that, they all want cuddless all the time and they deserve them, let us make them all cuddle all the time with each other in a big ass pile

#lps 2012 #asks

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knickynoo · 1 year

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Back to the Future: The Animated Series, s01ep10 "Dickens of a Christmas" Review and Commentary

Previous episodes linked HERE

In this episode: A family-togetherness trip leads to prison, pickpocketing, and other fun shenanigans in 1845 London.

We open with Doc doing some work on the DeLorean.

He's frustrated with all the repairs and admits that he sometimes wishes the car had never been invented but that without it, he wouldn't be able to travel back to times before it was invented. This leads him to reminisce about a trip he took with his family one very hot summer day...

Into the cartoon we go! I will point out that we do not see Doc's face at all during this opening live-action portion, which is a bummer. I hope we get to see him at the end.

(I don't think I've previously mentioned that I write these posts as I watch through the episodes—pausing every few minutes to type up anything notable—so you're getting the complete journey here as I take it all in. I did watch the first season a couple of years ago, but I do not remember any of it because my brain decided the experience wasn't worth holding onto and dumped it immediately.)

Let's get back on track. It is a blistering hot day in Hill Valley. The flowers are all wilting, the thermometer on the wall explodes because it's hotter than the device can even register, and everyone is growing cranky. Doc is attempting to install a high-tech air conditioner-type thing he's invented in order to make it more bearable.

Outside, Marty is making his way down the street to the Brown farm. He's ditched the jeans and letterman jacket in favor of more "summery" attire, and is already making poor decisions by not only once again riding his hoverboard in public but projecting a movie in front of him as well.

For someone as prone to falling and who is as easily distracted as Marty is, I don't think this particular decision is a wise one. But that's cartoon Marty for ya.

He does end up crashing, by the way. He fails to see Einstein in the yard, runs into him (Einie is fine) and the two of them smash straight through the front door of the house. He wrecks the kitchen and knocks everybody over. With everyone's nerves already on edge due to the extreme heat, Marty's violent entrance proves to be the last straw, and they all start angrily shouting at each other.

Listen. I don't like to see them all screaming at each other, but. I kind of don't blame them? It's a million degrees outside and also Marty literally broke their kitchen table in half. I think Doc can shout at him a little bit for that. As a treat.

Bonus side-tangent! Can I point out how tiny Marty and Clara look in this shot?? First of all, Clara is not as short as Marty is, so that's automatically off. But also, compare them to Doc. He's actually wearing shoes with like...springs on them or something? That adds to his height, BUT he's also leaning forward a lot, so it mostly evens out. Without the shoes and while standing with better posture, Clara would come up to what—Doc's shoulder, just about? (I'm not factoring in her poofy hair) Something is very off proportions-wise. Take a look, then, at a shot from the very next scene.

I dunno. Someone dropped the ball here. Side tangent over. Can you tell I'm having fun watching this silly show?

Once Doc calms them all down, Clara notes that it's the heat making them so irritable, saying, "Maybe if it wasn't hot as the Dickens..."

This gives Doc an idea, and he decides that a family vacation to somewhere cooler is in order. Doc, Clara, Jules, Verne, Marty, and Einie all manage to pile into the DeLorean somehow and travel to 1845 London just before Christmas. Upon arriving, Doc entrusts Jules to hold onto the DeLorean's key, which means it will get stolen or go missing like immediately.

While admiring the view with Doc and Clara, Marty falls off of a building because he gets distracted staring at a girl.

There he goes. I guess he didn't learn his lesson about flirting with other girls after the whole thing with Mercy Tannen and being tried for witchcraft. Marty's brain does not retain those valuable life lessons for very long.

After safely landing in a pile of snow, Marty follows the girl into a nearby toy store to chat her up and gets promptly slapped across the face. Doc and Clara also go into the store because Doc is enamored with figurines of Dr. Frankenstein and the monster, which he evidently had a toy similar to as a child. While Jules and Verne wait outside, a pickpocket comes by and steals the key to the DeLorean. Jules and Verne take off after the thief, and Doc, Marty, and Einie see the commotion and go after the boys. Clara is left at the store, and Ebiffnezer Tannen soon enters. He's angry that the shopkeepers are late on their mortgage payment (by one whole hour) and throws them into debtor's prison. Clara is also thrown into prison after she rebuffs Ebiffnezer's advances.

Side note: this is the second time so far in the series that a Tannen descendant has flirted with and tried to win Clara's heart—through very unsavory means. The prior instance also took place in England (Lord Biffingham, who had captured both Clara and Lady Jennivere).

After unsuccessfully trying to locate the boys and discovering that Clara has been arrested, Doc and Marty decide to split up. This shows just how desperate Doc is because he should know by now that nothing good has ever come from leaving Marty to his own devices. We go then to the prison, which has a whole gigantic wing built onto it just for all the people Ebiffnezer has thrown in there.

After being tossed into a room with like 40 other people, Clara asks an elderly man if he's been there long. The man replies, "When I first come to this prison, I was wrinkled, I had no teeth and drooled a lot. I was a baby!" As you may imagine, Clara is not encouraged by this response. I however, think this is one of the funniest lines of the episode so far. This man was put into prison when he was a BABY because he somehow wronged a member of the Tannen family.

Here are all the people crammed into one of the cells in the Tannen wing of the prison.

Meanwhile, at the town square, Jules and Verne have been captured by the pickpocket leader and are being forced to learn how to steal things. While they're trying to go along with it until they can get the keys back, Marty is off having his own little adventure trying to get Clara sprung from prison.

Using the hoverboard, he makes a visit outside Ebiffnezer's window, posing as the Ghost of Christmas.

Ebiffnezer's terror abates just long enough to ask, "Past, present, or future?" to which Marty replies, "Uh, all of the above." He tells Ebiffnezer that he's there to save his soul and yanks him out the window and into the night. Their first stop is a workhouse, where children are slaving away. Ebiffnezer starts crying, and Marty is hopeful that he's already having a change of heart. But it turns out that Ebiffnezer is just upset because it reminds him that there's an 8-year-old who owes him money.

Jules and Verne, however, are having more success in their mission after having gained the trust of the young pickpocket who had stolen the keys in the first place. They tell him that if he can help get the keys back from Murdock, they can help him escape and find a better life. They get the keys and all make a break for it (along with Doc who had caught up to the boys).

Marty's next stop on his journey is to show Ebiffnezer another sad sight—a homeless family roasting their Christmas dinner of a few chestnuts over a fire. Instead of being moved by compassion for the family, Ebiffnezer attacks them because he's hungry and wants their food.

Marty angrily flies himself and Ebiffnezer back to the house, declaring that he gives up. As he's complaining, his projector device from earlier in the episode falls out of his pocket and starts playing a Godzilla movie. Ebiffnezer is horrified by the images, and Marty takes the opportunity to tell him that the destruction he sees is the result of people living wicked lives. Ebiffnezer immediately promises that he'll change and free everybody from the prison. The next morning, he's found singing and dancing in the street with a Christmas wreath around his neck.

And I can't help but wonder what the implications would be, if any, to the Tannen lineage, given that Ebiffnezer has such a drastic change of character and goes from wicked and cruel to kind and generous. But alas, the cartoon doesn't care about these things.

Okay, wait, hang on. In the scene that immediately follows, Ebiffnezer sees Marty in the toy shop and recognizes him as the "ghost," which makes him enraged and mean again, so...I guess that whole change of heart is undone pretty much right away. At least he's already freed all the prisoners by that point. Anyway, Clara is reunited with her family, and everything turns out okay.

Also, here is a screenshot of them all crammed into the DeLorean on the way home, which I still do not think would be possible.

End of cartoon portion! Back to Real Doc, who is still under the car and doing repairs. At one point, he reaches for a donut with his grimy, disgustingly dirty hand, which upsets me.

He also ends up dipping the donut into the can of motor oil instead of his coffee. Serves you right, Doc.

And that's basically it for this episode. It's a fun one, but I think there was too much going on. There was the plot with the pickpockets, the Clara in prison plot, and the Marty and Ebiffnezer one. It just felt disjointed and made it hard to write about. But Thomas Wilson's voice-acting as Ebiffnezer makes the whole thing worth it.

Join me next week as we travel to 1926 and meet FOUR-YEAR-OLD DOC!!

#back to the future #bttf: the animated series #btw this is my second attempt at posting this because the first try had my pictures configured wrong AGAIN #so i had to go in and copy & paste into an entirely new post #because it won't let me fix the pictures in the old one #and i still have no idea why and it's making me lose my mind #edit: IT DID IT AGAIN. THE PICTURES ARE ON TOP INSTEAD OF SIDE BY SIDE #if anyone else is having this problem PLEASE reach out to me because it's honestly making me not want to even do these posts anymore

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anatomical-lung · 1 year

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TVS ROUND 1; SASKIA VS KIKU

“IIITTSS THAT TIME LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS< DISTINGUISHED GUESTS AND FOLKS! It's time for another episode, I am your host…”

The voice blared throughout the stage's speakers. It was obvious to which one was on the microphone with that enthusiastic voice of his, it could be no other than the host himself….

“CHARLEY CHADWICK!” Charley shouted, causing a slight ring in the microphone, it was quite clear that Ulysses was already getting ticked off by his voice.

In fact, it was so clear that Ulysses hadn’t even been in the room at the time, every contestant, judge, and possibly some viewers could tell.

“And where might Ulysses have been?” You may ask, well, allow me to assist you!

Round One, TVS S67

SASKIA.INI VS Kiku

(Saskia’s entry)

SECTION 1

Ulysses was managing to lean against a post right next to the “POCKET DIMENSION 7.6” door, with a little sticky note saying “NOIR” at the bottom, with a little handwritten smiley face on it.

He was waiting on Saskia, someone who took a long time in rooms for a simple reason; he was curious. Sometimes curiosity kills the cat, and sometimes that cat is Ulysses' mood, he probably would've just yelled at Saskia by now if he hadn't heard a creak of a door.

Saskia bursted out of the door and howled in an unintentionally exasperating and thunderous tone “IIIIIIII’MMMMM READY!”

Ulysses just looked more irate than before. Charley’s voice blasting from speakers muffled by the walls topped off with this peabrain’s idiotic and loud remarks were enough to enrage him. He needed to get RID of Saskia at least, and that's exactly what he was assigned to do.

He hadn’t bothered making small talk to Saskia, or anyone for that matter, he just opened the aforementioned door he was near and shoved the virus through it, slamming it behind it.

“O-Oh! Okay bye!” Saskia waved to the already closed door behind him.

PART A

Saskia was observing his surroundings, seeming absolutely thrilled with the bland colors and boring buildings of an average Noir setup. He was tempted to explore, he just had one problem, the only thing he knew had caused a problem here.

He had not been given a clear prompt.

He had been observing the other contestants' rounds. Some were interesting, and some he didn’t like watching, but in a lot of the rounds there had been some sort of prompt given out by Charley, or someone else. But here he had nothing.

Saskia looked down on the floor, putting a finger up to his face. He was in deep thought right now, trying to recall an incident where someone wasn't given a direct prompt.

“No prompt….What would a smart person do….Hmmnn..I actually don't know….Maybe they would do the thing they always do..which I also don’t know what that is…How about…” Saskia kept rambling to himself, it was loud enough for at least someone around the corner could hear. It was that loud Saskia had not realized someone approaching from behind, even with the loud heels that the pursuiter was wearing clicking against the ground

“Uhhh…”

Step.

“Would a….”

Step.

“No they wouldn’t..”

Step.

The person had made their way over to Saskia, and had tapped him on his shoulder, making Saskia let out a surprisingly soft ‘eep’ sound as he turned around.

This person, who we could only assume was a woman, was dressed up in a tailcoat, blouse, and some tight black jeggings, topped off with some red heels and a sun-hat.

“Welcome, Welcome, a newcomer, I know you, everyone does!”

Saskia stared for a second, even for being a rando who approaches strangers himself to say hi, this felt weird, but he brightened up within seconds.

“Hihihi!!!” Saskia shook and flapped his arms a little bit, it was clear he was super excited about this, this had been the first time someone had approached him willingly that he didn't know “I’m Saskia, your name is?!?” He reached out to shake the woman's hand, but she pulled her hand away quickly. She seemed disgusted but disguised that feeling within seconds, showing a pearly smile again “I’m aware of your name, mine is not important, I only have a question, do you like doing favors, Saskia?”

PART B

“Oh, a favor! Mhm, they remind me of this guy I'm really close too cause he was the nicest person eevvveer an-'' The lady made a shooing motion with her hands and rolled her eyes, she look bored “Yeah, okay, I get it.” She started to grin again, her tone going from a mumbled annoyance to an enthusiastic glee “Yeah, Do you mind doing a favor for me?”

Saskia nodded and clenched his fists excitedly “Yeah Yeah Yeah! I'll do it! Tell me what it is! PLLEEEAASSSEEE!?”

The lady squinted her eyes “Jeez…Maybe put your guard up a little, you’d be really easy to manipulate.” She laughed and shook her head, putting her hand on her hip and motioning Saskia to follow her “C’mon, weirdo.”

He just stood there for a second, trying to comprehend what she was talking about, but after a few seconds he caught up with her, mimicking her pace in walking. “Hey! Hey! Hey! is there anything you know about this place and where we're going?” He continued to frantically look around and ask more questions. The woman clearly seemed annoyed and uncomfy by Saskia’s enthusiastic manner and how he seemed to be so thrilled by helping a stranger, but she just decided that if she didn't respond, he would eventually wound up tired of talking.

“Hellllooo! Are you there! Do you know where we are!?”

“Do you know who you are!?”

“Are you real!?”

PART C

The silence of the lady had been nerve racking to Saskia. She was dead silent; he didn’t know what had happened to her. In fact, the only thing that filled the streets was his voice and the soft whirring of wind. This place lacked life, life was absent here.

He eventually decided to shut up, he knew he wasn’t gonna get a response, and how others had told him his voice was annoying. Apparently the wind had been the best choice of background noise.

Saskia put his head down and continued walking, staring down at the streets and counting each line he saw. He was lost in his own mind doing that.

He suddenly looked around and snapped out of it as he heard a booing laughter coming from in front of him, it had been the lady he was following.

“WAHAHAHAHA! OH SASKIA ISN’T IT WONDERFUL!”

Saskia looked up, the view above him had shown a giant building, seeming to be built like an office, actually, it probably was an office.

The woman ran up to the building and opened an electric box that was behind an ID panel next to the door. She started to sort and mess around with the wires and microcards. Saskia ruffled his own hair and the next thing he knew, the woman put two hands out to showcase the door, which had been opened by her frolicking.

“After you!” She proposed, and Saskia did exactly that while giving a thumbs up. The lady seemed annoyed, like a plan of hers had just failed, and it was all Saskia’s fault. Oh well, at least they were in!

PART D

The lady walked into the building after Saskia, and led him up to a room on the 15th floor.

The room was dark, filled with wires on the ground, powerboxes, servers and other electrical devices around, there was nothing else there.

The lady had opened her mouth to propose an idea, but before she could say anything. There was stepping coming from in the hallway that had led them here.

She grabbed Saskia by the hair and shoved him behind one of the bigger servers.

Instead of the voice she usually had, strict and mediocre, her voice has dropped down to being gentle and quiet.

“Alright. Ya see that wire over there?” She pointed over to a wire that had been broken, and the insides were exposed “The powerbox that had kept that wire in its system, it was shut down and taped away for prevention of tampering. I know viruses are known for infecting, I want you to turn it on, and then come back once you do that.”

Saskia nodded and sat down on the ground, starting to do exactly that.

She did nothing other than get a flask of water out of her pocket.

He seemed to have finished turning it on, as he got back up and the wire was sparking.

“Perfect.” She let out a soft laugh, putting a hand on her hip as she shifted and held out the water vessel, the cork now off. “For good measure, just pour this over the open wire.”

Saskia nodded once again and snatched the flask out of her hand, his touch leaving a slight shock on her hand.

The woman put her hand over her mouth and laughed as she watched him approach the wire “Jeez…I’m a genius..”

He bent down and poured the water, just like how he was instructed.

There was a lot, and the whole time Saskia was watching the soft, glowy, flow of the water. It intrigued him, to the point that he hadn’t watched the angle the glass vile was poured in, allowing some water to seep through the cracks that kept his wrist together.

He felt that weird spark in his arm and panicked, dropping the vile and allowing it to shatter in front of him and the woman's eyes, the glow from the window highlighting the glass in the dark area.

She saw him panic and instantly gripped onto his hair and dragged him back to behind the servers. She angrily grit her teeth and retorted “That will do, ya shitbag of a being.” Saskia giggled happily in response “So I did it?!”

“Yes, now you can go.” She growled, walking him to the door before shoving him out “Goodbye.”

Saskia sat outside of the door as it closed, and he chuckled once again, waving back at the door “Bye!”

SECTION 2

In the depths of the boring, monotone city, there had been a newcomer, The one that anyone had barely known about, Kiku.

There was no reason why they weren’t known, or being interacted with, especially as they were in the more bustling parts of the city.

Oh well, guess we’ll never know.

In the meanwhile they were hiding behind a planter, which was possible due to their height of 4 '10, what were they hiding from? A fight, a fight that had literally nothing to do with them.

They had been shakily listening in, hiding.

“You loved him, and how could you KILL HIM?!” One yelled, before the other quickly snapped back,

“I-I could never! You know I have a major fear of elec-electrocution!”

“That had ALWAYS BEEN A LIE!?”

“No it isn't!”

Kiku frantically looked around, it’d be best for them to escape before this escalated, or if they got involved. So they looked around for any power lines to make sure they were in an acceptable place, and flew up and into an open building window, crawling through it.

Once they were in, they instantly fell face first onto the ground, sounding a loud thump on the ground. They laid there for a second before hearing something from above them

“Kiku?”

They instantly put their head up, their face looking worried, just to see a familiar foe from the mainplace, Saskia.

“Oh Kiku! I know you! Do you know how to get out of here, I've been walking out here for…uhm..two hours..I think?”

They just stared.

“I helped someone here, and then a few hours later, there was a crime investigation! Except there are barely any…blue people? Just people sulking!”

“They are still there! You can watch it!”

And before a response, Saskia had dragged Kiku over to where he had described.

PART A

Only a minute or two had passed before they’d found the room, the same room where Saskia had cut the wire.

There it was, some elderly guy laid out on the floor. With no signs of consciousness, or life at all for that matter.

Within seconds Kiku had reacted like how everyone else in the crowd that surrounded the body did, they felt sick to their stomach.

Almost instantly Kiku tried running away, but Saskia just grabbed them by the shirt collar and dragged them back.

Kiku was using a hand to cover their eye, as Saskia just silently observed from afar.

Finally, Kiku fretted “Sas-Saskia..? Why would yo-you drag someone over to a corpse…”

“You wanted to!” Saskia replied with a beam, he’d probably have a smile right now if he had the ability to move his face.

“No I didn’t…You didn’t even let me respond…” They shuddered, their voice raising slightly…but that had brought some attention over.

One of the cops were staring at them, and that led the attention of the whole crowd over to the two.

The cop pointed and scowled “You two!”

Kiku’s eyes widened, they took that as a sign of something bad. They quickly skittered over and hid behind Saskia, possible due to the height differences.

“You two were the ones that only just recently came ‘ere! We’ve been told you two ar’ detectives by the city's gossip!”

Saskia raised an eyebrow and shook his head “Detective? Like those guys that…uhh..I dunno..” Kiku tugged Saskia’s tailcoat and then whispered something, in which Saskia giggled “Oh! Solve crimes!”

“You two were sent over here due’ to the lack of detectives and string o’ crimes…were counting on you to figure out this murder to. Our lives are on the line. Well, you’re the case solvers now.” The cop shoved a file packed with only 2 papers onto Saskia’s chest and waited until he had his grip before pulling away “This is everything we’ve got so far. Now shoo and do your jobs!”

Saskia seemed grateful for the idea, and Kiku was too scared to reply to any of these rumors, the idea wasn’t true, not one of them were detectives, but it seemed one was willing to do the job, and that led both of them here.

Oh well, they had to figure out a big problem now.

PART B

They had been led into an office that resided within another building, more specifically, an abandoned sector within the county's local sheriff office.

It had been long abandoned since the last assumed detective, who had sworn to stay a detective, went ‘missing’. At least that's what the colleagues in the sheriff department told society.

Well, now it had been no longer abandoned due to the presence of the two, just unrepaired and musty now.

Saskia sat on the chair that went to the worktable, as Kiku stood beside him, leering over him.

Their hand was on the table, hovering over a word as Saskia kept stuttering. He had been trying to pronounce the words, sounding each syllable out as if he was just learning while Kiku tried to help

“‘So ummm, There has been an A-Saas-Sin-Ation… Assassination? Of.. Kiku the names are blocked out, I don’t know what that says. It's literally just darkness, I can't read that.”

This had been going on for a good 20 minutes, and it was clear Kiku had to resort to the last thing they wanted to do. Speak up.

“Hey Saskia, I can just read it…” They inquired, their tone soft and shy.

He seemed like he didn't like the idea, but he knew it may be best, so he handed over the paper and files.

Kiku raised their voice again, though it was still gentle and oddly wispy “There had been a reported assassination of…blacked out.. Who had supposedly died of an electrocution from the Minimally Invasive Autopsy that they had performed on scene.” They inhaled deeply before continuing “The clues were minimal, the murderer might’ve been wearing gloves as there were almost no fingerprints around any of the quote on quote weapons.” and they just ended there. Passing the files back over to Saskia, in which he just stared at them.

“So..Uh…Do we go back to where we were earlier?” He asked, in which Kiku just nodded in response.

PART C

Saskia and Kiku had walked out of the facility, about to head back to the scene. The only problem is that someone had caught their eyes. Actually, it was multiple people.

Outside the sheriff's office there had been a bar to the left, and it sounded as if there had been a lot of commotion about it.

Kiku had suddenly stopped and Saskia looked towards them, a little confused about why they had stopped “Kiku? Why did you st-” but they just waved their hand as if in order to silence them, and he dropped dead silent.

“It's gonna be a shame without him around anymore, that's for sure….” One voice spoke, the other talked back

“Truly, He was a great inspiration.”

They turned back to him and requested “They are talking something about the v-victim I think. Can you just go in there and l-listen in…”

Saskia giggled and nodded “Do you wanna come with!?”

“No..thank you..” They turned their head away as Saskia walked into the bar.

Saskia slammed the bar door open and looked around. Everyone in that bar cut off their conversations, including the one about the recent death that he was there to find out if he could dig anything out of it.

He seemed to chuckle and wave before walking over to an empty table, and so forth everyone continued their conversations, including the one that Saskia was instructed to listen in to.

He put his head down on the table and just listened….closely

It had been a group of people talking about the murder, a brunette woman with a scarf, a black haired guy, and a blonde woman.

There was no clue what they were discussing beforehand but soon after Saskia had started to pick up on their conversation

“Truly a shame…I know a few people that could be suspects though.” The man said, quickly to be met with a snapping response from the brunette “You think someone who has been a part of this community a while would KILL SOMEONE?! That’s bullshit! None of the current clues even have fingerprints, they couldn’t have been human.”

“They could’ve had gloves?” The blonde tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but if it were to be gloves, gloves would still leave a slight fingerprint, or there would be a reminiscence of gloves around here, there's no local incinerator and the day the garbage truck comes by in a few days. And the police stated that the murder happened somewhere between today or yesterday.” The black haired man sighed.

Saskia quickly decided to book it and get out of there, as there had been no other evidence that had been taboo to a point that it couldn't be reported by an autopsy from his perspective.

So he quickly walked out out of the bar, and went back over to Kiku

PART C.1

Saskia got back out of the bar and looked back over to where he had left Kiku. Luckily, they were still there and hadn’t been kidnapped or anything, now he had to tell them the only evidence that he had gathered.

“Ok, so, you know…No fingerprints.”

“Mhm..”

“The murderer might’ve not been human!”

Saskia let out a soft giggle, and Kiku looked around before replying once more “You know, that means we would have to narrow it down to entities that don't have fingerprints usually. That means dragons, robots, some sorts of deities.. Actually not just robots, most likely anything electric, hence the electrocution..”

That's when it hit Saskia. He looked around, feeling awkward and conscious all of the sudden. “Mhm…So…Are we gonna go back to the scene?”

Kiku sighed and nodded, so they started walking.

Saskia was stumped, so many questions were running in his head. What if he was the one that had set in up with the red haired woman, he had no fingerprints, and the woman had barely touched anything, so it couldn’t be led back to her. And if He told them the truth, he would also be arrested.

Part D

And they arrived back at the scene, Saskia looking around frantically and nervously. He seemed to have something to do with this, and that terrified him. It could've been him, it must've! It was.

His brain was flooded with ideas, maybe he had just been imagining things? Maybe Kiku did this? But they are only thirteen, they couldn't be that smart!

Questions, they all overrided any other thoughts.

As Saskia worried about the worst case, yet possible scenario. Kiku was searching around where the body had been, it was now gone with an X marked where it had been. The crime cleaners had not arrived, so it was a perfect time to investigate.

He started mumbling his thoughts out of pure stress before he was quickly cut off by them.

"Saskia, why is there spare electricity in presence?"

And there it was, Kiku being able to detect electricity due to being able to float, and this time it wasn't cause Saskia was near.

"Uhhh...Was it me?" He inquired, tilting his head.

They shook their head in response and continued looking.

Part E

A few hours had passed, and only a few clues had been collected, there was a sense of all sorts of electricity not from Saskia, Kiku or the servers, but just an underlying sense of fresh electrical activity. But that's all that was gathered, and hell, they didn't even know if that was relevant, then there had been a few spots of unknown oil for whatsoever.

But Saskia clearly knew something that Kiku didn't.

"Can we go yet..?" Saskia let out a shaky whine, he was so nervous. But for what would it be if he was nervous of something?

"I don't see why not." Kiku sighed and started to head towards the door out of the server room while Saskia stayed there for a few minutes.

No fingerprints, No weapons, some odd electrical activity, and an unknown oil spot in specific places, this was, but if you thought hard enough. It is and was right in front of our eyes.

Kiku was long gone from the place. Now Saskia was alone. He had no other option but to frame.

Saskia quickly started to rummage through the room, trying to find something to frame Kiku with. That's when he found it. A white piece of fabric. Similar to Kiku's white blouse at the time of the death.

He frantically threw it around where the body was before sitting down behind another server.

He thought..and thought...and thought.

Until he zoned out.

Part F

It must've been hours until he woke up, cause he somehow zoned out to the point it could've been mistaken as him being asleep.

Saskia shook his head, realizing where he was. It wasn't the morning, possibly the afternoon and he was still here, in the server room.

The fabric was gone. Oh dear.

He went over to the door and exited it, alongside the whole building.

The streets. Empty.

Everywhere has no signs of human life. Only the flowers and bugs, something which Saskia was used to, but this felt too eerie for him.

That's when he saw it, against the street and his foot, there was a paper.

He bent over to pick it up, and it had been a. Picture of Kiku, over the caption of "ARRESTED"

Saskia knew what he did, and he got away with it.

He stared in despair, and started to shake and cry, something, far distant from his happy personality.

This was his fault.

His.

He won for doing something bad.

That's when it happened, he was back on the stage within seconds, practically breaking down.

"WELCOOMMEE BACK!" Charley exclaimed ecstatically "WOW, YOU DID SOOOOOO WELL!"

Saskia would've loved it, but he just couldn't, at the time.

"YOU'VE MADE IT TO THE NEXT ROUND! ITS OUR HONOR FOR AN APPLAUSE."

A cheap crappy SFX of clapping played, and Saskia just...sat there.

He was good in terms of rounds. But he felt bad.

END!!!! :)

#OC #OCT #oc tournament #televisionspace #tvs #original character

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thebreakfastgenie · 2 years

Note

“hauntkeye” and “sailing accident” cause hauntkeye I feel like is the ghost AU you’ve mentioned and sailing accident is a very intriguing title (this is Queen i can’t send asks from my side blog otl)

yes hahahahaha hauntkeye is the ghost AU! it actually has a title now but I'm not allowed to mention it in public until I have more of the draft done and also the document will be called hauntkeye forever that's just how it goes!!!!

I have discussed this a Lot but this fic is basically an AU where Hawkeye is badly injured during Where There's a Will, There's a War and is brought back to the 4077th where everyone tries their best but he dies anyway. He then becomes a ghost who basically functions like Weston in Follies of the Living--Concerns of the dead. The story is about everyone's grief as well as Hawkeye dealing with being a ghost who can't be seen or heard and has to watch his friends grieve for him.

It's an AU, not strictly canon divergence, so I moved some events around in the timeline. Several plot points are based on episodes, some of which came from season 8 (despite Where There's a Will being season 10) and there are also original plot points. I have a detailed outline; it's thirteen chapters (and an epilogue) but writing it has been... challenging. I don't have a lot I can share from this one yet, but here's something from the first chapter:

The countryside, Hawkeye had noticed, always looked more scenic on the way back from battalion aid. Even in the dark, maybe especially in the dark; the wounds stood out less in the moonlight. Korea might be a beautiful country, he thought, if all the armies stopped blowing it to pieces. It was a shame to think he wouldn’t be here to see it, but once he left this place he doubted he’d ever have the stomach to come back.

This comes a little later later, but along the same road:

They picked him up again and got him into the back of the jeep. Hawkeye hopped up with him. He looked at the medic again. In this light, he looked even younger. “Are you old enough to drive this thing?” Hawkeye asked. “I’m eighteen, sir.” Hawkeye nodded. “Good enough. Don’t go until I say, alright?” “Where are we taking him?” Hawkeye thought of the 4077th, with its four standing walls and his own army cot waiting for him when he was finished. He looked at the kid in front of him. He wouldn’t make it back to the 4077th, not if they didn’t stop the bleeding first. “Aid station. It’s just up the road behind us.”

Hawkeye leaves battalion aid like he does in the episode, but on the way home he runs into a medic with a wounded soldier who got separated from their unit, and takes them back to battalion aid, which is how he ends up being wounded.

And here's BJ with a bit of dramatic irony in the O.R.:

The sutures would get him through this shift, but he wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw Hawkeye in the flesh. He missed his voice in the O.R., his stupid jokes that helped BJ keep his head. It wasn’t the first time one of them had gone to the front, but sometimes in a war things that were bearable one day weren’t the next. This time, when Hawkeye got back, he’d hug him until he was sure both of them were real.

It's not exactly a spoiler that things don't work out so well, since the premise is Hawkeye ends up as a ghost...

sailing accident is my beloved... it was supposed to be finished months ago but life got in the way. I'm a little cagey about this one but it's a Hawkeye character study of sorts, featuring a story from his childhood and a story in Korea.

The hands rolled him onto his back. The hill was jagged; he was cushioned only by rocks. He coughed, expelling the dirt from his lungs. He opened his eyes and found himself staring into the sky. It wasn’t how he remembered it. It was calm and blue and peaceful, which was strange, because a moment ago it had been cloudy and almost yellow as the artillery blasted parts of the hill into clouds of rising dust. His fall had put some distance between him and the heat of the battle, but he could still hear it raging around him. The sky blinked, and he remembered that the kid had blue eyes.

and

There was a rustling somewhere to his left. They were far enough in, now, that there wasn’t any wind, so something else must have been shaking the branches of the large maple tree. The rustling ended in a soft thud. Then came footsteps, fast and light and growing closer. Blood dripped into his eye again. This time, he remembered to wipe it with his left hand. His fingers felt cold on his skin, and his face felt cold under his own touch, except for the blood. By the time he’d cleared his field of vision, the footsteps had stopped. A pair of blue eyes peered at him. They weren’t dark like the ocean, but light blue. Like the sky, something he’d thought he might never see again. “What happened?” The eyes belonged to a slight, dark-haired boy, who could scarcely have been older than ten, but he spoke with an authority at odds with his smooth, childlike face. “His sailboat tipped over,” the man holding him answered. “He got tossed around the waves pretty good.”

#thank you!! <3 #weird child hawkeye in sailing accident my beloved.....

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fxtalitygod · 2 years

Text

≈𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 ℝ𝕠𝕠𝕞 ≈

Pairing: Broken!Husband!Gojo Satoru x GN!Reader

Summary: Satoru finally comes home after the "accident," but not without damage. You spend those hours in the white room with him as the days pass, waiting for his discharge...

Genre: Songfic ("The 30th" by Billie Eilish) & Angst

Warnings: Heavy Angst (little to NO comfort), MANGA SPOILERS (Bits of Hidden inventory arc to Shibuya Incident), NON-CANON (this was written before Gojo escaped), Implied episodes of amnesia, Vague implication of character death, mentions of night terrors (no desc), Depressive episodes, Gojo slightly OOC (Not entirely)

Word count: 4.6k

A/N: I truthfully had this brain rot the second I finished listening to "The 30th" by Billie Eilish. Although this song is about a car accident on a major road, I couldn't help but think of a possible outcome when and if Gojo escapes Prison Realm and how his significant other would react/handle the situation.

Anyways... my asks are still open if you want to ask questions, rant, or leave some friendly suggestions. Also, I'm opening a taglist for general posts. This doesn't mean I will close my taglist for any of the series I have (Only two), but I just wanted to know if anyone would be interested. The general taglist would include one-shots, short series, imagines, etc.

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules•

youtube

"Sometimes you look the same

Just like you did before the accident"

You looked at him, his white hair falling over his forehead and his eyes closed, hiding his cerulean eyes. It was as if nothing had ever happened to him. It was as if the events of the "accident" had never occurred. His breathing was steady, and his skin, despite being pale, still held its color. However, when you took a second look at him, you could still see the damage that had been dealt.

He was sleeping peacefully, but not without the occasional flinch and whimper. You could tell he was visualizing whatever he had seen in those days of captivity. Even when he would wake up, despite his usual cheery nature— he looked tired, like the life within him had been drained out of his being. Maybe it was the news that was dropped onto him with little to no warning or whatever he had witnessed in the void, it may have even been a mix of both, but it was leaving him depleted of any willpower.

You heard him mumble to himself when he thought you were sleeping or when he assumed you were lost in your thoughts. You heard him blame himself for being blindsided, for allowing himself to be vulnerable in an inappropriate situation, for letting his emotions get the best of him, for overthinking the crisis at hand, for setting himself over the edge. Satoru Gojo blamed himself for everything that had transpired that day.

Yet he still managed to fool everyone into thinking he was fine and that nothing had changed because Gojo Satoru was the strongest. There was nothing Gojo Satoru could not handle.

"When you're staring into space

It's hard to believe you don't remember it

Woke up in the ambulance"

There were moments when Satoru was quiet. The man was staring at the television, the ceiling, or the wall in front of him. In moments like these, you thought he was contemplating how he ended up in the room he was currently in. Eventually, you soon learned that he wasn't thinking about anything. Satoru's only focus was on whatever object he was fixed on, nothing more.

It hurt you to watch him so broken because you knew better than anyone else, even better than Satoru, that he was nothing more than human despite his unique abilities. People seemed to forget that when they referred to him as "The Strongest," even as he lay here damaged. You had even forgotten, thinking that he would pull through quicker than you had anticipated, but you were quickly reminded how human he really was when he uttered your name and a few dreaded words.

"Y/n, how did I get here?"

"You pieced it all together on the drive

I know you don't remember calling me"

You remember getting the call, Megumi on the other end of the line. The panic you heard from him had traumatized you alone as he updated you. The conversation was quick and raspy as the teenager spoke, clearly in a hurry. You could hardly process nor understand what he was saying, but the moment you heard Satoru's voice calling out from the other end of the line, the evident desperation for you to be at his side had you jumping out of your shared bed and rushing to your car, fumbling with the keys as you turned on the ignition.

There was no hesitation as you hopped onto the scene, entering the ambulance to be with your lover as you made your way to the hospital. Shoko stood there with you as you held his hand, letting tears slip past your eyes. He spoke with you the entirety of the drive, asking if you were okay and if you needed anything, which only caused your liquid emotion to intensify. You couldn't believe he was thinking of you at a time like this, in a moment where he needed more help than you did.

It was no secret that the man was trying to process everything until his present standing. When he fully understood his predicament, he squeezed your hand tighter, apologizing continuously. For what? You did not know, but you sat there trying to reassure him. Trying to calm him down.

The man soon became drowsy, kissing your knuckles before fading into sleep.

"But I told you, even then you look so pretty

In a hospital bed"

Satoru lay there, sleeping peacefully as you held his hand. It was one of the very few times he laid there unmoving, unbothered by the night terrors that would torture his mind. His chest moved up and down methodically, and his hold on your hand was soft. Despite your own need for sleep and nourishment, you refused to leave his side in case the tables were to suddenly turn.

You admired him, his features still as striking as ever. You wondered how he was capable of looking so effortlessly handsome at a time like this, how he managed to take your breath away. Sometimes you questioned why he was restrained to this hospital bed, mainly because you didn't want to acknowledge his predicament in the first place. You wanted to believe that he was fine, but you knew better than that.

Whatever happened in his time of containment was heavily affecting him. Whether it be mental or slight physical damage, either was the reason for his current position. The moment he became aware of your presence, you could see the change, the fear before he saw you, and the relief after you held his hand.

You were glad to know he was home, but you felt distressed when you saw Satoru's state. He was vulnerable, out for the world to see. It was one of his biggest fears, but he held his facade, keeping a bright smile. He kept himself up to date, rejecting your help despite your pleas to let you assist.

In a way, you admired Satoru for the strength he was showing— it made him beautiful to you, but it also worried you. However, there wasn't much you could do but listen and wait. So you watched him, his white locks brushing his forehead and his white lashes fluttering shut as he went into another slumber. You couldn't help but let out a soft smile as you leaned over his form, brushing his bangs away to lay a kiss on his forehead.

"You're so pretty," you whispered before he could completely drift off.

You received a hum in response, telling you that he acknowledged your comment before falling asleep. You continued to stay by his side, waiting for the next time he opened his eyes before you could leave and take care of yourself a bit.

"I remember you said you were scared

And so was I"

You don't remember exactly when you decided to rest your eyes, but you do remember rousing from your sleep, seeing Satoru wide awake as he stared at the ceiling. His mouth was moving as he spoke to himself, or at least you assumed he was. After a few seconds of listening to him chatter, you soon realized he was talking to you as he thought you were still asleep.

Before he could notice your conscious state, you closed your eyes so he would continue, so he would unknowingly confide in you. There were a few strings of apologies for the things he couldn't control and a few confessions of what he witnessed, but he said one statement that almost made you snap— that nearly made you leap up and embrace him.

"Y/n, I'm scared," Satoru breathed out, a slight crack in his voice.

The hold your partner had on your hand grew a little tighter. Out of reflex, you reciprocated his grip because you were scared too. You could feel him looking at you now, but you hadn't bothered to open your eyes. In all truthfulness, he didn't care if you were awake or not anymore. As long as you weren't pitying him, he would be comfortable.

"In a stand-still on the Five, though it was unusually early traffic

Usually, I don't panic, I just wanted to be on time

When I saw the ambulances on the shoulder, I didn't even think of pulling over"

It all happened so fast.

You remembered it like it had occurred only a few seconds ago. You were driving home from a mission. You were bloody and beaten, too physically and emotionally exhausted to think about anything besides getting home. Neither came from the assignment. It was the thought of your husband that drained you. The belief of if he would ever come back.

Every night, if you weren't sent on an abroad mission, you would come home and clean up, wanting everything to be perfect for the likely scenario of Satoru coming home, at least that is what you told yourself every day. So as you sat in the line of cars, you grew impatient. You honked your horn, flipped off a few people, and even began yelling in frustration. It was unlike you to get this upset, but it was also unlikely for the traffic to be so heavy.

Eventually, you saw the flashing red lights in the distance, signaling the emergency. You thought nothing of it as you didn't even bother to figure out why the emergency vehicles were there. You drove on by without a care in the world, only focused on your one task, finally getting out of the hold. From then on, your drive home was peaceful and quiet.

Despite the calm atmosphere, you felt strange, like you had neglected to notice something. The feeling bugged you all the way home. It nipped at you as you made dinner for two. It ate at you when you fixed your bed.

“I pieced it all together late that night"

The story was all over the news, but the details were vague. There hadn't been an accident, nor were there any convictions of crime, leaving people curious. Being in the profession of jujutsu sorcery, you naturally presumed that it was complications of a curse, having also felt powerful curse energy by the time you left the scene.

Before you could engross yourself in thought, the story on the news changed to a different report, stealing your attention. You listened to the rotating news reports as you cleaned your humble abode. You hardly paid attention as you only left the television running as background noise. It made your home feel fuller, as the silence would eat at you from the inside, reminding you of your husband's capture.

As you walked around the home, you couldn't help but pause when you heard how the cameras caught a glimpse of a man pulled off the scene. They never got a glimpse of the fellow's face, but they did manage to capture one thing that caught your eye.

The pair of shoes.

At first glance, they seemed like a standard pair of dress shoes, but there was something particularly familiar about those shoes. You turned your head to the doorway seeing your lonely pair of footwear by the door, imagining the abnormally large dress shoes that would stand beside yours. Turning back to the TV, you grabbed the remote and turned up the volume to see if any details would strike you.

Unfortunately, like any good TV broadcast, they changed the topic. Feeling frustrated for wasting your time, you decided to go to bed earlier. When you made it to your room, you couldn’t help but stare at the side where your tall lover would sleep. You remembered the late-night conversations, the nights of intimate embraces, and the nights where you silently held each other.

Now you lay there alone, and despite it being warm on recent nights, you couldn’t help but feel cold.

You stared at the ceiling, reflecting on today. There were multiple things you could comment on and numerous occurrences you could list that had gone wrong, but you couldn't focus on those inconveniences. You could only think of Satoru and blame yourself for not being there despite knowing you were unaware of the crisis. It wasn't until Yaga relayed the word to you, giving you his condolences.

Closing your eyes, you tried to fall asleep, but a sudden noise woke you.

Three rings are all it took for you to begin panicking as you saw the display of Megumi's name on your phone; three buzzes told you that something happened to your husband, whether it be good or bad; three vibrations were going to make or break you in a matter of seconds.

"And I know you don't remember calling me

But I told you, even then you looked so pretty"

You sat there with him as he took the medicine Shoko had prescribed. You never thought you would see the day Satoru had to take any type of cure-all to handle an ailment. Yes, the shaman had gotten sick in the past, but never to the point where he had to use a remedy, as his reverse cursed energy was enough to have him bouncing back in no more than a day.

When you went to pick up the medication from Shoko, you initially thought it was an excuse to communicate in private. When you arrived at her office, you were surprised when she handed you the bottle of capsules. She explained how the reverse cursed energy wouldn't do much in his particular case as it was so much more than physical impairment— as a matter of fact, physical impairment was hardly the problem at hand.

Before she could go into detail, you received a phone call. Without even looking, you answered. You didn't know what to expect, you naturally assumed that it had to do with Satoru, but you could've also been wrong. Ever since your husband had been checked in to the hospital, you had neglected to go on any assignments as you were afraid of leaving Satoru by himself for anything more than a few hours. Despite knowing your position, Yaga had tried to convince you to pitch in on both your and Satoru's tasks, as things were starting to get hectic with the world's strongest sorcerer being fettered to a hospital cot. You had denied him multiple times, pulling some strings and cashing in favors you had saved up for this moment.

Eventually, the administration left you alone, rationalizing that it would be better for you to stay by Satoru's side despite their bitterness toward the idea. However, if the need were dire, you would presumably have no choice but to leave for whatever expedition they would assign you. Unfortunately for you, there wouldn't be much you could do if that occurrence were to appear.

"Y/n, where are you?" Satoru groggily asked.

The second his voice registered in your head, you were quick to check the time. You had been absent for about four hours from running errands. In a panic, you waved Shoko farewell before leaving the building. Your mind was stirring— a little disappointed with yourself for neglecting to check the time sooner.

You had left when Satoru had fallen asleep. At that time, you assumed you could vacate for a couple hours as it was one of his more peaceful resting times. The truth is, what scared you most about leaving Satoru by himself was his current vulnerability. For people out to seek vengeance against him, this was the prime time for them to do so.

"Satoru, I need you to listen to me. Do not let anybody in the room, even the doctor," you directed, the urgency in your voice too transparent to miss as you sprinted towards your car.

Before you could hear your partner's response, the line was cut off. You cursed at the poor reception and hopped in your car, practically speeding to get to the hospital. It did not take long to end up in front of the building, quickly pulling out your ID for the nurses to grant you access. Your blood was pumping, but not due to your fast pace, but rather the perturbation of if Satoru even heard your last statement.

When you made it to the room, you saw that the door was ajar. Out of fear and panic, you rushed into the room to see a nurse dropping off a meal tray, quickly walking over and retrieving it from his grasp. You could see the slight pity in his eyes as he watched you place the tray on the side table. In a way, you were embarrassed, but you justified that you had every right to be concerned; however, you couldn't inform anybody that wasn't aware of the situation and that string of events.

You looked over at the man with snow-white hair, only to see that he was fast asleep.

"Was he awake when you arrived?" You suddenly asked.

A little stunned by your spontaneous question, the nurse took a moment to answer. Maybe it was because of your current intimidating stance or that he was trying to retrace his steps, but he seemed almost hesitant to give a response, mainly afraid of giving you the wrong answer. However, once he had finished thinking about his response, he came to his deduction.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, he was asleep by the time I got here."

Letting out a deep sigh, you uttered a quick "thank you" before taking a seat. You massaged your temples, endeavoring to relieve your stress before Satoru woke up. Seeing that you were distressed, the nurse left the room with a silent goodbye as he gently closed the door.

After an hour, your spouse rose from his much-needed rest. Groaning, he looked over and almost jumped back when he laid his eyes upon you. For a moment, you thought something was lingering behind you as you turned around quickly to only be met with a couple of drapes.

"Y/n, I thought you went to visit Shoko?"

Now it was your turn to be stunned. Had you imagined the phone call from your recent stress? Had you misinterpreted the voice on the other line? Maybe it would've been a good idea to check?

Deciding to make sure you weren't losing your sanity, you pulled out your phone. Checking your call log, you noticed that you had, in fact, picked up a call, but it wasn't Satoru's number; Moreover, it was the landline from the hospital— the number you saved in your phone in case of any emergencies.

Looking up from your phone, you merely gazed at your husband. You made sure to reveal no signs of the empathy you felt for him, knowing it would only upset him. Completely burying your intrusive thoughts to be there with him.

"Is everything alright? Why are you looking at me like that?" Satoru asked suddenly.

"Yeah, everything is fine...you just look so pretty," you uttered softly, kissing the back of his hand.

"In a hospital bed

I remember you said you were scared"

Gojo Satoru was no idiot. He knew that something was going on; he wouldn't deny that. However, he would be damned if he were to grovel and feed into his own self-pity. Satoru concluded that he would serve his time until his discharge, rationalizing that it would be easier to "go with the flow" rather than fight it; moreover, he was very accepting of whatever treatments he received, taking it all with a smile on his face. As long as it meant he would get to leave sooner and if it brought you peace of mind, he would endure any medical therapy to come home. Gojo Satoru's the strongest, and nothing could make him back down.

At least that is what he told himself.

Gojo Satoru was indeed terrified at this very moment. There had only been one other time he had experienced fear as great as this, and that is when he first encountered Fushiguro Toji, a man whom he made no effort to mention if not needed. He had so much he had wished to accomplish, only to realize that there was a possibility that he would never get to live out those accomplishments, at least not from his current position— in a hospital bed within a sterilized room

However, there was still more that scared him. You. Satoru was well aware that you could take care of yourself— he knew that for a fact. What really scared him was the thought of holding you back. The shaman was cognizant of how you were putting off missions; he knew you were cashing in favors to spend more time with him. Yaga had called him one day to ask him to convince you to take a mission, but some desirous part of him decided not to tell you. He didn't know if it was because he knew your response or if it was out of his own selfishness. What he did know was that either way, you would have stayed. So would it have really mattered if he were to have mentioned it?

In the end, Satoru knew he should have told you, despite knowing how you would respond. It would've been nice to give you a choice, but he was too scared to see you go, and Satoru told you that directly. That is the reason he'd called you that day. Because he was afraid that you weren't coming back. Despite not remembering, when you made it known that he had called you, uncovered that fear all over again.

"Y/n, I'm scared," He suddenly admitted as you pulled the bottled medicine Shoko had provided earlier.

"And so was I"

"I know, Satoru," You solemnly replied.

You knew it wasn't the first time he had uttered those words, but at this moment, he told you out in the open; although it was just the two of you in the room, you could tell he felt exposed. Satoru felt helpless and vulnerable. Never in his entire life had he felt this way. Never in your whole life had you seen him so powerless.

"I am too, Satoru," you whispered, whipping a stray tear.

Before you could deny your partner, he tugged on your hand, pulling you into the cot, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, and tucking your head under his chin. In a way, you felt guilty for having him comfort you, but that guilt soon faded when you felt his forehead against your crown. This was for both of you because right now, you both were fearful of what was to come.

So the two of you stayed there, lying in each other's arms. The atmosphere was far from tranquil, but as long as you were there with Satoru. As long as you could hold him, you could care less about whether the atmosphere was peaceful. However, that didn't mean thoughts didn't run rancid in your mind.

You lie awake that night, listening to Satoru's steady heartbeat as you set your ear to his chest, still having second thoughts about whether his presence was real or not. Sometimes, listening to his heartbeat, sensing his cursed energy, and watching his chest move up and down wasn't enough to convince you. There were moments you questioned if this was nothing but an illusion and that you had finally snapped.

It was all up until you felt the cold metal band around his finger did you realize that Gojo Satoru was real and that he was here with you.

Despite your relief, sometimes you couldn't help but keep your thoughts from running rancid in your mind. You couldn't help but think of the worst-case scenario. Sometimes you would ask yourself:

"What if it happened to you on a different day?"

"On a bridge where there wasn't a rail in the way?"

"Or a neighborhood street where the little kids play?"

"Or the Angeles Crest in the snow or the rain?"

"What if you weren't alone?"

"There were kids in the car"

"What if you were remote?"

"No one knows where you are"

"If you changed anything, would you not have survived?"

Yet, in the end, you would always chant this exact phrase continuously:

"You're alive"

Because in the end, it didn't matter if those scenarios had happened. Your significant other was here with you now. In your arms, Satoru's pulse is stable, and his breath is continuous. Nothing could end this moment, right?

"And I don't know you don't remember calling me

But I told you even then you looked so pretty"

You sat in that chair, admiring your lover as he held your hand, waiting patiently. For what? You had rather not say, as you would like to think it was just a bluff. Unfortunately, you found it true when Shoko walked into the room, shaking her head.

You held back your tears, knowing it was for the best. That is what you told yourself, but it was tearing you apart to leave your lover's side. You couldn't leave him, not when he still needed you... not when he still needed you...

Just as you were about to refuse, Yaga appeared suddenly from around the corner, giving you an all too familiar look...

Pity.

"Y/n, it's time to go," Yaga announced, attempting to approach you, only for Shoko to stop him as she whispered something in his ear.

With a nod and a slight wave, Yaga left the room, taking one last look at the scene before disappearing into the hallway. You could only let out a stuttered breath you had been holding as you turned to look at Satoru, giving him a weak smile. These next few seconds would have to be the most formidable action you would have to do...

Saying goodbye.

"Y/n, what's wrong?"

It hurt you to hear him say that because he was the one who called you to tell you that Yaga and Shoko had arrived in the first place. He informed you that they were there to take you away. You remembered his panic and frustration when you entered the room alone, managing to have the two visitors stand by for a minute.

"Nothing, you just look so pretty," you sobbed out slightly, leaning over to peck his lips, resting your forehead against his before taking your leave.

"In your hospital bed

I remember you said you were scared"

It startled you to feel his hand grab yours, the desperation behind the action as clear as day. You held back those droplets or rather streams of liquid emotion as he looked at you, practically giving you doe eyes. Satoru squeezed your hand, nearly telling you to stay a little longer, but he could only tell you how he felt.

"I'm scared, Y/n."

He sounded so broken. It was as if his memory had struck again, remembering everything before your arrival. You couldn't contain your tears anymore as they slipped out one at a time. You attempted to get ahold of yourself, but it was futile. Satoru's words had broken you in more ways than one. Why? Because you knew something he didn't know and something he would never understand.

"And so am I."

You weren't coming back.

"So am I," you blurted, walking yourself over to kiss your husband one last time.

That kiss ruined you, as you had a second mind to rebel and refuse to leave, but then you felt her hand upon your shoulder as you parted from Satoru. Sighing, you squeezed your lover's hand one last time before leaving the room. You heard him call out to you one last time. You listened as he attempted to pursue you before he was detained by Shoko, who told him to not get up, but you couldn't bear to look at him.

Because if you had...

You would have gone running back to him...

You would have ran back into that white room to be with him.

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stranger-marauders · 2 years

Text

repaired

five: family dinner

chapter summary: Steve joins the Hoppers for dinner.

chapter warnings: language maybe?

word count: 2.8k

series masterlist | masterlist

ONCE STEVE HAD finally gotten off of his shift at Scoops, he and Kate began their drive back to the cabin.

After her episode earlier that day, Hopper had taken her out to lunch before dropping her off at the mall. He wanted to talk to her about some things that weren't related to her episode, suggest that maybe she should invite Steve over for dinner. While at first, she protested, considering he got off at nine-thirty at the earliest, and that wasn't even factoring time for him to drive over to the cabin and to change clothes, Hopper insisted. It had been a long time since they'd had dinner together with Steve, the last one being two weeks before on the day after her birthday (the night of her actual birthday, of course, consisted of the best surprise eighteenth birthday party ever).

Whenever Kate had told him that her father had asked him over for dinner, Steve had been slightly confused. He could tell something had been off with her, but he couldn't tell exactly what. The thought that something was wrong with her had been bugging him since he'd seen her that afternoon in the ice cream shop, and that was part of the reason he'd given Robin ten dollars just to let him go an hour early.

Once he and Kate had finally been alone, he decided to ask her about what was wrong.

"Hey, earlier when you walked into the, uh... When you walked in, I..." Whenever he looked over to her and found she was currently giving him a confused look, he sighed. "Are you okay?"

She looked away and nodded once as she played with the hair tie on her wrist. "Y–Yeah, I'm fine. Just a rough day at the station."

Steve shook his head. "Kathy, come on, I know when you're lying to me."

"I'm not—" She cut herself off when she saw his face again, his eyes wide with worry. Damn puppy dog eyes. She sighed. "I... I found the file from a... a couple years ago. It just... freaked me out a little bit, that's all."

"Kathy..."

"I'm fine," she said. She couldn't decide if she was trying to convince him or herself more. "It just..." She sighed again. "It was like I was back there again."

He reached his right hand over to her, placing it on her inner thigh and squeezing it. "Hey, you know what? It's been a while since you've had one of those, so that just means you're getting better, okay?"

"Yeah, but they still happen."

Steve hesitated. "They're gonna happen, Kathy. Jesus, I think all of us still get freaked out sometimes."

She sighed as she stared out of the window, moving her hand on top of his. "Not like I do."

He sighed as they pulled into the cabin driveway, putting the car into park and shutting off the engine. He turned to her and watched her as she got out of the car and moved toward the cabin without another word.

Steve had always hated whenever she had her episodes. It wasn't for the inconvenience factor, not in the slightest. He hated seeing her in such pain, even if she didn't admit the pain it caused her. Her episodes had always made Kate put walls up, shut the people out that cared about her even more so than she normally did, but more importantly, it reminded her of that night long ago and the weeks that seemed to follow. He hated them not because they were inconvenient for him, but because they caused the girl he loved so much pain.

Kate's father had made steak and potatoes for dinner.

It had been quiet at first—Hopper, El, Kate, and Steve usually didn't have much to talk about, and that night, Kate had already been feeling especially off. Nonetheless, she tried to act like nothing was bothering her, even if she felt like she'd taken ten steps in the wrong direction.

"Sorry for, uh, throwing off your dinner plans," Steve said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Don't worry about it, kid, you're not throwing anything off," Hopper replied. "You're earlier than we thought you'd be."

Steve gave a tight-lipped smile for a second, returning to his food. He loved Kate's dad, much more than he even liked his own dad. Hopper definitely treated him better, and he saw him much more than he saw his own father (in a way, though, that was a good thing—Steve couldn't think of a time that he'd wanted to see his dad). For that reason, a weight seemed to lift off his chest every time he went to the Hoppers' house: he felt loved.

"So, uh, you thinking about doing anything else once the summer's over besides scooping ice cream?" Hopper asked, looking to Steve.

"Uh… I don't know," he answered awkwardly. "I'm gonna try to. I really hate the uniform."

Kate smiled, pressing her lips together to hide her laughter as her father continued. "Yeah, I don't blame you, kid. I'm surprised you're not working at the pool again this summer."

Steve almost choked on his food, making sure not to look in Kate's direction. "Yeah, Scoops, it, uh… it pays better. I need the money, you know?"

Kate's eyebrows furrowed together whenever he spoke, partially because that wasn't what she'd been told whenever he'd gotten the Scoops job instead of the lifeguard job. She'd been told he didn't want the job anymore because of Billy Hargrove, not for money reasons.

She opened her mouth to say something, but Hopper went on before she could. "Yeah, well, if I were you, I'd start looking at all the options in town before it sneaks up on you. People quit once the summer's over, and that's when you can get something you really like." Hopper paused. "You know, I didn't go to college either."

Steve nodded. "Cool. Thanks, uh, Hop." He paused before going on. "You know, I'd love it if you could, uh… give me some tips or something one day. Maybe some ideas."

Hopper nodded, smiling. "Yeah, I'd like that, kid."

Kate smiled slightly. How convenient it was to have a boyfriend that your father liked. She looked at El instinctively, who seemed to almost be pouting as she ate her food slowly, seeming to push it around on her plate. "Hey, you okay?"

She perked up slightly, nodding. "Yes. I'm just worried… about Mike. His Nana is sick."

"Oh no," she replied, frowning as she looked at Steve. "Did you call him to check on him? See how he was doing?"

"Tomorrow."

Kate nodded, but whenever she saw the look on her father's face, one that wasn't an eye-roll or a look of discontent, her mind only began to run with scenarios of what could've happened. Nevertheless, she dropped it for the time being.

Every time Steve had attended a family dinner of theirs, which seemed to now be a common occurrence, she always seemed to think of the first one he had attended whenever they had first started dating.

She had been on edge all of Thanksgiving Day that year. Not only had it been the Hoppers' first Thanksgiving with El, but it had also been her first Thanksgiving with Steve with them officially as a couple.

About a week before that Thursday, Steve had mentioned to Hopper that both of his parents were going to be gone, just like they usually were, on a business trip because of Black Friday. Of course, Hopper had immediately invited him over for Thanksgiving dinner—he didn't want the kid to spend it alone. Since then, however, Kate had been stressing out about it all.

Steve had been, too.

His stress had been much different than Kate's—he'd been worried about bringing something, about what her family would think of him, and most importantly, how this would change things between him and Kate. He knew, however, that there was only one thing he could immediately fix.

Steve had gone through every recipe book he'd had in his house, which hadn't been very much, to begin with. His mother hadn't ever really been around much to cook, especially since he had been about fifteen. That was when she had started going on business trips with his father, too, just because she didn't trust him not to cheat on her anymore. As he dug through the recipe books, however, he realized he didn't exactly know how to cook any of it in the first place.

Even though he knew how to cook, he didn't exactly know how to follow recipes. Steve mostly knew just how to cook things that didn't require much effort, like pancakes or macaroni and cheese. He had no idea what to cook for Thanksgiving at the Hoppers', and he knew he wasn't going to figure it out anytime soon without any assistance.

Steve couldn't remember the last time he'd had a true Thanksgiving. His family had only done the bare minimum, as it had usually only been the three of them and maybe his grandparents. As he got older, the likeliness that his parents would even be around for the holiday decreased more and more as time went on, making the need for the holiday feast decrease more and more, too. There wasn't a need for anything more than a roasted turkey, some vegetables, and a few dinner rolls.

The Hoppers, however, had always cooked more than enough food to last them a few extra days—they figured it was better to overestimate rather than underestimate. Besides, there was nothing better than holiday leftovers.

That was why he had known just to call Kate.

The phone at the cabin hadn't rung more than once before she had gone to answer the phone. "Hello, you've reached the Hoppers."

Steve smiled at the sound of her voice. She was cute when she answered the phone. "Hey, it's me."

She'd involuntarily smiled, her voice lightening. "Have you decided to chicken out yet?"

"No," he'd said, stifling a laugh. "No, I just don't know what to bring, and since you're such a genius, I figured I'd call and ask."

"What?"

He'd hesitated. "What should I bring? You know, to dinner?"

She'd peered around the wall the phone hung off of to investigate the food that already sat out on the counter. "Um… I don't know, I think we've pretty much got it covered. We've been standing in the kitchen all day."

"Hey, don't overwork yourself, okay?"

"I'm not," she'd replied, almost annoyed. "It's almost been a month since that, I'm fine."

"Okay, fine, I was just checking on you. Anyway, uh… what's your dad's favorite. Or El's?"

"You're really trying to impress them, aren't you?"

She could've almost heard his smile through the phone, especially whenever he'd stifled a nervous chuckle. "Uh, yeah, obviously. Your dad has guns and your sister has superpowers, meaning both of them can blow my brains out, so excuse me if I'm a little worried, okay?"

She'd tried to contain her laughter. "Oh my God." She lowered her voice whenever she spoke again, not wanting to risk the other two hearing her. "If you want to make them happy, they both like green bean casserole. It's super easy, I can tell you how to do it."

"Oh, my mom has a recipe card for that, I think I'm good."

"You sure?" she'd asked. "I mean, I don't mind coming over to help—"

"No, no, no, I don't want you to come all the way over here just for that," he'd answered. "Love you, okay? See you soon."

Her heart had fluttered. "Y–Yeah, don't burn the house down."

Once they'd said their goodbyes, she'd sighed. She could've only hoped for the best.

When Steve had finally arrived at the cabin, flowers and casserole in hand, Kate had begun to feel lightheaded. She wasn't too worried about him: he'd brought the casserole, flowers, and he had dressed up slightly, wearing a nice sweater and khakis, loafers instead of his normal tennis shoes. Kate and her father had always dressed up for Thanksgiving, even if it had only been the two of them for years, but now, with the group of four, the holiday actually had started to feel like one.

Some of her anxiety had melted away when Steve had kissed her on the cheek, making her smile.

"Those for me?" she'd asked, looking at the bouquet in his hands.

"Actually, no," he'd replied, looking to El next to her. "They're for you."

El had smiled, and her cheeks had been dusted with pink whenever he had handed the flowers to her. "Thank you." she walked over to the kitchen, putting them in a vase and filing it with water.

Kate had tried to hide her smile as she looked at him again. "Thanks for that. It's been a while since we've had them here. She really likes the fall ones."

He'd chuckled. "Yeah, I thought they looked pretty. Almost as pretty as you."

She'd shaken her head, trying to fight her smile. "You're trying really hard right now, aren't you?"

Before he could've replied, Hopper had walked back inside, holding a pan with a smoked turkey in his hands. "Where can I put this?"

"Um…" Kate moved a bowl of mashed potatoes and a tray of corn casserole to the counter across the stove, making room for the turkey. "Here."

Once the man had set the turkey on the counter, he'd looked to Steve. "Hey, kid."

"Hey, uh… sir."

Hopper had chuckled. "Whatcha got there?"

"Oh, uh… just green bean casserole. Only thing easy enough for me to make, you know?"

He'd chuckled again. "Yeah, did Kate tell you to do that?"

Steve had turned to her quickly before turning back to Hopper. "Uh… no."

Hopper had given him an unreadable expression in response. Sure. "All right, kids, let's eat."

Kate and Steve had sat on one side of the table while Hopper and El had sat on the other side. At first, it was somewhat quiet, but Hopper had broken the silence first. "So am I allowed to ask when this started?"

"Oh, uh…" She'd turned to Steve, shrugging. "I don't know, um…"

"Halloween?" he'd said, almost sounding unsure of his answer. "I mean, a little bit after that, I guess…"

"Mike said you kissed after… after I closed the gate," El had said, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

Steve and Kate had both avoided eye contact with El and Hopper in front of them. He had scratched the back of his neck, and she had played with the chain on her necklace.

"So since then?"

"Yeah," she'd muttered.

It had fallen silent again for a moment before Hopper had begun to speak again. "I just want you to know… how much I care about Kate."

"Dad—"

"Kathy, it's okay," Steve had said, interlacing his fingers with hers underneath the table. He didn't know if it relaxed her or himself more.

"Listen, I'm not gonna say 'what are your intentions with my daughter' or anything like that, because I know you, kid. That's why I—" He had stopped himself whenever El had cleared her throat, making her presence known. "Sorry, we wanted to talk to you about it."

Kate had opened her mouth to say something, but Steve had spoken first. "Yeah, no, I get it. And I mean, I don't know, I honestly wouldn't even be mad if you asked me what my intentions were, because I promise I have the best of them toward her. I would never do anything to hurt her, and I'm lucky to have her, sir." He looked over to El, who'd still been giving him a pointed look. "And ma'am."

El had smiled, and Hopper had, too. "Well, welcome to the family, kid."

Kate remembered that Thanksgiving fondly, even months later. She loved how closer her family and Steve had gotten, even if it was sometimes still a bit awkward. Whenever she had finished her food, she put her dish in the sink, turning back to Steve, El, and Hopper. "I'm gonna go take a shower, I'll be back."

Steve only watched her in concern as she moved to the bathroom.

"She been like that all day?" Hopper asked whenever she had closed the door.

"Yeah," he replied, sighing softly. "Seeing that file really messed her up, I guess."

"You weren't there, kid. I haven't seen one that bad in a while."

"Really?"

Hopper sighed. "Yeah. I mean, she…" Whenever he saw the look on Steve's face, he trailed off. Steve had always cared so much about his daughter, and he knew that whenever Kate was hurting, so was he. He knew that he had constantly been worrying about her, anyway, but on days like these, ones where she had an episode, he knew that Steve worried about her even more than he normally did. "Just be easy on her, okay? You know how she gets."

Steve stifled a laugh. "Yeah."

And as the three finished dinner together, Steve only hoped Kate would be okay.

next chapter

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