You feel Jin’s weight settle next to you on the bed, returning from wherever he stormed off to not ten minutes earlier. Sorry or not, his apology doesn’t take back all the ruthless things his sharpened tongue have said, or act to ease the flow of tears running down your face. He’s usually such a sweetie - such a goofball with his terrible jokes and cheesy smiles - so seeing him lose his temper like that… having him yell at you for the very first time… it’s shocked you to the core.
He reaches out to touch your back, unable to hide the hurt he feels when you flinch away. When he softly utters your name you can hear the regret lacing his voice, and despite all the pain you feel you can’t help but lift your face from your knees to look at him, this man you love so much.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, and expression he wears is so guilt-ridden, so tormented, that you feel some of your own anger start to slip away.
“I’m sorry too,” you whisper back, tilting your face into his hand when he reaches out to wipe your tears away. Jin’s touch is so comforting, so soothing, that you don’t resist when he moves closer, cupping your face in both hands now. The way he leans closer to you is cautious, his eyes flicking between yours for any sign that you’re going to run away, but much to his surprise you’re the one closes the gap between you. You bring your lips to his in an eager kiss, your hands finding the front of his sweater and gripping it tightly to pull him closer.
“I didn’t mean… what I said…” Jin mumbles between the meeting of your mouths, his fingers pushing back your hair and then grabbing at your back, pulling you into him as you start to tug at his clothes.
“Jin… just shut up.” His sweater coming off cuts short any reply what he might have had, your tongue slipping into his mouth ensuring he remains mute save the languid groan of pleasure he makes as you fall onto your back, pulling him with you to lie between your legs. It doesn’t take long for the both of you to lose the rest of your clothes, and when Jin starts to touch you gently between your legs you only wait a few seconds, no more, before pushing his hand away and whispering against his lips that you’re ready.
He needs no more encouragement than to hear those needful words from your tongue to give into that most primal of urges. He lines himself up with your achingly wet core and then slowly starts to push inside, his kisses never ceasing even as you gasp at the feeling of his thick length stretching you open beneath him. The feeling of Jin beginning to move inside you, his hands worshipping every inch of your body… there could be no better comfort that he could provide.
He rests his face against the crook of your neck, peppering your skin with sweet, loving kisses as he maintains the slow, steady pace of his hips, dragging his cock back and forth inside you to stimulate all your deepest, darkest places.
“You’re so beautiful… I love you so much.”
You hate it when he’s like this. Arguments you can handle easily enough; blessed with a quick mind and wide vocabulary, verbal slanging matches are practically your forte - but this? The cold shoulder, the sullen silences, the dean-pan expression and icy stare? You have no idea what to do with this.
It makes you feel nervous, chewing on your bottom lip and playing with a frayed thread on your shirt as you wait for Yoongi to explode; to shout, to scream, to throw things, anything. Anything but just stand there on the other side of the room, arms folded, regarding you like you’re something nasty he just found on the bottom of his shoe. You knew you were asking for trouble when you kept teasing him earlier, talking back and making fun with the rest of his friends. The dark look settling Yoongi’s eyes should’ve been enough of an indicator for you to stop, but you’d liked making them laugh and you’d liked being centre of attention, so you’d carried on, unknowingly pushing him far beyond his limits of tolerance.
“What do you want from me, Yoongi?” you sigh eventually, peeking out at him from under your lashes. Silence. “You want me to say sorry?” He cocks his head to the side. “Well I’m sorry, ok?” Still he says nothing, and you end up losing your patience, letting out a loud groan of frustration and shoving your head into your hands.
“I don’t want your ‘sorry’s’,” he drawls after a moment, voice soft and deadly, and you lift your face to look at him over the tips of your fingers, wide eyed. He starts to walk toward you, letting his arms fall from his chest, rotating the ring on his index finger round and round. “What I want… is for you to never disrespect me like that ever again.” Yoongi stops short of the sofa, just a pace or two away, his eyes blazing as he glares down at you. “I want you to not to be such a fucking brat.”
You take a sharp intake of breath into your hands, equally shocked and confused by his savage tone and the heat you can feel unfurling deep in your belly in response to it.
“I want you down on your fucking knees, showing me you can do as you’re told, for once.” What?
Your hands fall from your face, sitting up just a little bit straighter as you try to figure out if Yoongi’s serious or not. The steely look in his eyes and the obvious bulge in his sweats are enough to convince you of his intentions, and before you know it your body is moving down to sit on the hard wooden floor at his feet, your hands grabbing at the elasticated waist to tug them down.
“Open your mouth,” Yoongi tells you sharply, grabbing the base of his hardened cock and pointing it towards your lips expectantly. You do as you’re told, letting your jaw go slack as you look up at him from under your eyelashes, taking a breath when you feel him grab a hold of the back of your head. He pulls you onto him, slipping the entire length of his cock into your mouth and down your throat in one fell swoop, and then holding you there with a grunt of satisfaction. When you start to caress the length of him with your tongue, your throat burning, you watch as pleasure softens the harshness of his features.
Though Yoongi’s still rough as he starts to thrust in and out of your mouth, some of the anger seems to have faded from his eyes, a smirk forming across his face as you moan around him. His other hand comes up to cradle your cheek, his cock slipping back and forth between your spit slickened lips.
“Can’t talk back now, can you?
It’s been six months since yours and Jung Hoseok’s paths have crossed. Six months since he walked out of your life, shouting and slamming doors, tired of having the same argument with you again and again. You’d convinced yourself you were long over him, sure that if you ever saw him again you’d be able to look him square in the eyes and feel absolutely nothing.
Oh, how very wrong you were. He had to be here, tonight of all nights, when you’ve already fallen out with the people who’re supposed to love you most. All you want is to drown your sorrows, but when you catch sight of Hobi from across the dance floor, his body moving fluidly to the music, you can’t deny the magnetic pull that draws you across the room. He hasn’t seen you yet, too busy beaming his 1,000 watt smile at the petite girl grinding against his side, and even though it hurts you to watch, you can’t look away.
Hobi always understood. He was always the one to put you back together after mother had torn you apart with her sharp tongue and harsh criticisms, and you find yourself aching for that comfort from him now. Thoughtlessly you approach until you’re only a few steps away, standing in the middle of the dance floor like some kind of motionless moron, gasping when his eyes pass over you and ready to sob in the split seconds between him looking away and then doing a double take. You see his mouth form the syllables of your name, and though the music is far too loud the memory of his voice makes it almost so you can hear it anyway, a thrill running down your spine.
He steps away from the girl - she’s thankfully too drunk to mind - to stand directly in front of you, his eyes running all over you from top to toe, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.
It’s only when he reaches out to touch your cheek, his eyebrows knotted in concern, that you realise you’re crying. You pull away abruptly, shaking your head and roughly wiping your eyes, but the damage is already done. That simple touch has been branded into your skin now, and all you can think about is having more and more and more. Apparently, Hobi feels the same. He grabs your hand and drags you away from the dance floor, towards the toilets, and when he finds the one marked as disabled he pushes you inside and then locks the door firmly behind him when he enters too, ignoring the shocked look on your face.
For a few moments you both just stand there, absorbing every inch of each other, but right when you’re about to speak Hobi suddenly launches himself at you. Your back slams into the countertop behind you as his mouth does the same, meeting yours in a hard, fervent kiss that smacks of desperation, and then suddenly his hands are hooking behind your thighs, lifting you onto it so he can stand between your legs. Your hands are in his hair, pulling on it, trying to get him closer even though you know it’s not physically possible, his tongue fighting for dominance with yours.
There’s someone banging on the toilet door - people must’ve seen the two of you run inside - but you couldn’t care less. All you can focus on is Hobi’s fingertips grabbing your thighs, hitching up to your skirt as you yank open his pants, craving the feel of him inside you after so long. As quickly as you can pull his long cock free he’s sliding you off the counter and onto it, thrusting inside you barebacked as you wrap your legs around his hips, knowing instinctively that you’ll be wet enough to take it. You always were.
“Shit, I missed this pussy,” he grunts into you ear, bouncing you on his length.
“I missed you, god, I miss you.”
Hitting the ‘send’ button with far more force than necessary you let out a scream of frustration, throwing your phone across the room and onto the sofa for a soft landing. Yes, you’re pissed off, but you still don’t want a broken phone. Namjoon wrecks enough of your stuff without trying, you won’t give him the satisfaction of being responsible for that too.
You’re not replying again, no matter what he has to say for himself. In fact, you’re not even going to read his response. Deep down, you know you’re over-reacting - him not doing the dishes is hardly worth this amount of aggravation. Truth be told, every time he does it you usually end up having to to the store to buy more to replace the ones he’s dropped and smashed on the floor, but that’s not the point. The point is Namjoon always makes these promises about things he’s going to do to help out more around the house, and then something bigger and better and more important comes up, and you’re left to do all the grunt work. Every time.
You pointedly ignore the flashing light on your phone for the rest of the night, knowing that he won’t be home ‘till really late and still soothing too much to make up in the meantime. It’s left abandoned on the sofa when you go to bed, too, only managing to fall asleep after you’ve helped yourself relax with a long, hot bath that helps to melt some of the stress away.
It’s Namjoon climbing into bed next to you that wakes you up a few hours later, though you still pretend to be fast asleep until you feel him start to shuffle up against your back, his face pressed between your shoulder blades.
“I’m still mad,” you murmur, your voice husky from sleep, and mad you might be, but you still can’t find it in your heart to pull away from him into the little bit of space left on your side of the bed.
“I know,” he mumbles back, the words blowing hot across your back, shuddering involuntarily at the lingering kiss he presses there. In the pause that follows Namjoon gingerly places his arms over your side, bracing himself for rejection but squeezing you tightly when it doesn’t come. “Do you still love me?” He asks it so cutely, his voice sugary sweet, and despite all your earlier irritation you end up huffing a laugh at him, placing your hand on top of his where it rests on your stomach.
“Of course I do, you dick.” Namjoon laughs now too, kissing the slope of your shoulder as you twist your head round to be able to look at him.
“Good.” He plants another kiss and then another, working his way upward until he’s pressing kisses to your neck too, all the hairs on your body standing on end when he whispers, “Because I love you too.” When you feel his hand start to slowly make its way southward you do little to stop it, more than happy to make up in the most pleasurable way possible, sighing softly when it slips under the waistband of your pyjama shorts.
It doesn’t take Namjoon to work you into a frenzy, rubbing gently at your clitoris and then running his fingers through your folds until they’re slick with warm arousal, all the while kissing your neck, loving the skin with his lips and his tongue. He pushes your shorts down over your hips, separating your bodies for just a second to remove his boxers, and then he’s taking hold of your uppermost thigh and lifting it, supporting it as he positions himself between your legs, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance.
“Joonie,” you sigh softly, arching your back against him, feeling him smile against your neck before slowly sliding in from behind. He groans when his long length is fully seated inside of you, feeling your warm walls clench around him in welcome.
“Babygirl, you feel so good.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to think?” Jimin yells, brandishing your phone out by his side, waving it around like a taunt.
“He’s a friend Jimin, that’s it!” you shriek back, a hand in your hair as you pull at it in frustration. Sure, those text messages from Baekyun might’be been a little flirtly, but you know he didn’t mean anything by them, not really. Obviously, your boyfriend doesn’t see it that way.
“Oh yeah, it really looks like it. Real friendly.” A sneer twists Jimin’s usually soft, pliant mouth, your stomach twisting unpleasantly too when you see it.
“Well maybe you shouldn’t go looking through my phone if you’re gonna have such a fucking problem with what you find.” You see his fists clench at his sides, his eyes narrowing as he glares back at you from across the room, and it takes every bit of your willpower to force yourself not to look away, to stand strong and glare right back. You know if your heart of hearts that you haven’t done anything wrong, so you’ll be damned if you let Jimin make you feel guilty. Fuck that.
Still, when he suddenly stalks towards you, throwing your phone to the side, you can’t help but flinch in anticipation of what he might do. He grabs a hold of each of your upper arms, squeezing hard as his dark eyes flit back and forth between yours, and then all of a sudden he’s crashing his mouth to yours, rushing you backward until your back slams against the wall.
“Jimin!” you muffle against his mouth, your eyes wide as his hands start to roam all over you, grabbing at your hip, groping your breast, fixing your bottom lip between his teeth and biting, hard. “What’re you-”
“No one but me gets to touch you like this, you hear?” he growls into your mouth, already pulling up your skirt with one hand as the other flips open his belt. His tongue pushes into your mouth as he shoves his jeans down to sit just below his shapely ass, pulling his erection free from his boxers to leak pre-cum onto your favourite top as touches you through your panties. “You think Baekyun could get you this wet? Shit, I barely have to touch you and you’re dripping for me.”
“Jimin,” you groan helplessly, loving how rough and forceful he’s being even though his fingers hurt and you’ll be covered in bruises tomorrow. Fighting or not, all you want is for him to take you, now, right here, wreck and ruin you in his name.
He grabs one of your thighs and hitches it over his hip, bending at the knees and pulling your panties to the side to line his cock up with your entrance. He thrusts up and into you savagely, splitting you open with his girthy length, and once he’s deep inside you he picks up your other leg so they’re both wrapped around his waist, supporting your weight with help from the wall you’re still pressed against.
“Baekyun couldn’t fuck you the way I do,” Jimin grunts, snapping his hips back and forth as you cry out again and again, grabbing onto his shoulders, your head tilted forward, tears streaming from your eyes. He’s fucking you so hard that his hip bones are digging into you with every thrust, sharp and painful, but you don’t care, you want it to hurt. It only makes it feel better.
“Say his name, I fucking dare you.”
You and Tae have never had a complicated relationship. You’d gotten on instantly when you‘d first met working as a make up girl under BigHit’s paycheck, fast friends ever since. You’ve got the same sense of humour and humble upbringings; even the same fashion sense 99% of the time. He’s always invited you to the group’s dance practices too, though you get the feeling that if Tae could’ve taken back tonight’s invitation without having to give you a reason, he definitely would’ve done.
He’s been off with you ever since you stayed the night last weekend, replying only intermittently to your texts with short, clipped sentences that just aren’t like him, and for the life of you you can’t figure out what’s wrong. It’d been a normal night; you watched movies, ate crappy food, talked. Nothing out of the ordinary. You’d hoped seeing him in person might improve things but Tae’s been avoiding you all night, barely saying a word. The only time he paid you any attention was when you’d been playing thumb wars with Jin, and then his stare had been intense that it was you who’d to look away first.
Once practice is over you expect Tae to wait for you as he usually does, but when you straighten up from collecting your things off the floor you see his back already disappearing through the doorway. You call his name, running after him, grabbing hold of his arm and forcing him to stop.
“What the hell is going on with you lately?” you question, ignoring the awkward look you can see on Jimin’s face as he passes. “Aren’t you giving me a ride home?” Taehyung just stares blankly back at you.
“Why don’t you get Jin-hyung to take you?” You raise your eyebrows at him, infuriated when he copies your gesture. What’s that supposed to mean? Huffing, you drag him back into the studio and lock the door behind you, determined not to leave until you’ve gotten this sorted out.
“Why’re you bringing Jin into this Tae?” He avoids your eyes, staring at his feet. “Is this about what I said the other night?” It’s the only possible thing you can think of; you’d asked whether you should ask Jin out on a date - he was sweet and funny and always made a lot of effort to speak to you, so why not? It’s not like you’d been getting any other offers lately. Still, Taehyung says nothing. “Look, if you think it’d be too weird for me to date one of your friends you should just say so.”
“It’s not just Jin!” he suddenly snaps, his deep voice raised in volume, “I don’t want you to date anyone at all!” Your mouth hangs agape for a moment - Tae’s never shouted at you before, not once.
“Why not? I know you’re protective of me, but-”
“Because I want to date you, ok?! It should be me, not Jin!” he blurts out, slinging his bag off of his shoulder to slide across the wooden floor and into the mirror. You’re at a total loss for words, struck mute by his confession. “And I know I’m too young for you and I’m immature and I’ve never… I’ve never told you any of this.” Taehyung strides over with more decisiveness you’ve ever seen from him, grabbing hold of your hands in his. “But I love you, I’m in love you with you.” And then suddenly he’s kissing you with an intensity and a fierceness you never knew he was capable of, pressing his body against yours and squeezing your hands so tight it’s like he’s afraid to let go.
“Tell me you feel the same, please, Noona, I need to hear you say you love me too,” Taehyung pleads, his forehead resting against yours when he pulls away, his eyes closed tight like he’s in pain.
“Of course I do,” you whisper, taking his face in your hands and smoothing out the worry lines with your thumbs, finally letting yourself succumb to all the feelings you’ve been holding back for so long. “Of course I love you. I always have, Tae.” The look of amazement and wonder on his face is so pure, so sweet that it almost makes you cry until he starts kissing you again, deeper and needier than before, more perfect than you ever dreamed it could be.
Before you know it he’s dragging you to the floor with him and you’re both pulling off your clothes, desperate for the intimacy you’ve both deprived yourselves of for so long. You’re too caught up to even properly appreciate the sight of each other naked for the first time; just feeling, tasting, touching one another, wetter than you’ve ever been in your life when Taehyung finally finds his way inside. He starts to move only when you’re gasping and begging him to do so, tilting your hips up to help him find and abuse your g-spot.
“I’ve wanted this for so long, Noona,” he groans into your shoulder, his thick, hardened length throbbing inside you as he moves.
“This is perfect… you’re so perfect.”
Jungkook’s in one of his silly, playful moods tonight. Usually it wouldn’t be a problem - you love the times where you get to play around and laugh together - but you’ve got a paper due tomorrow, one you’re already way behind on, so you really don’t appreciate the way he keeps poking and prodding you in an attempt to get a reaction, tickling and teasing you when you’ve already repeatedly asked him to quit it.
When he goes so far as to start tapping the top of your laptop, flapping the screen down over and over and over again as you try to type, your frayed temper finally snaps. You round on him, the stress you’re under making you respond far more angrily than you normally would, fingers clenching the keyboard so hard that it creaks.
“WIll you just stop it?” you yell, oblivious to the way Jungkook shrinks back into the sofa a little, startled by the ferocity of your voice. “Can’t you just act your age, for once? Maknae or not you’re still supposed to be an adult, Jungkook, so maybe you should start thinking about growing the fuck up.” He blinks at you once and then twice, expression completely blank and unspeaking as you glare back at him, almost daring him to give you an excuse to let rip once more. He doesn’t utter a word though, not as he rises from the couch or as he leaves the room, shutting his bedroom door quietly behind him.
It doesn’t take you long to calm down. As hot and quick as your temper is it always burns out fast too, and by the time it does you’re feeling truly awful about what just happened, guilt sitting heavy in your stomach when you think about the way you spoke to him. It’s useless trying to work now - even without Jungkook here to bother you you still can’t concentrate - so you shut your laptop with a sigh and then ready yourself to go eat a slice of humble pie, approaching Jungkook’s closed door and knocking softly. There’s no answer, but you don’t hear a ‘go away’ either, so you decide to forge ahead cautiously, opening the door and poking your head through the gap to look inside.
Jungkook’s sat on the edge of his bed, his ps4 controller in hand, eyes fixed on the TV as his fingers move mechanically over the buttons. He doesn’t acknowledge you as you approach, nor does he when you sit gingerly beside him, but when you try to place your hand on his knee he abruptly jerks it away from your reach. You deserve that, you know you do, so you try not to take it to heart.
You lean forward to look at his face and when you do you’re devastated by what you see; his cheeks are red and splotchy, and even though his eyes are dry now you can tell by how puffy they are that he’s been crying. God, if you felt awful before, it’s nothing compared to how you feel now.
“I’m so sorry…” you murmur, looking guiltily at the floor, “Kookie, I-”
“Don’t call me that,” he snaps, pausing his game to glare at you icily, “I’m not a baby.” You flounder for a moment, wanting so desperately to touch him but frightened he’ll push you away again.
“I know you’re not, Jungkook… I didn’t mean what I said, I was just… stressed out and angry and… I know that’s not an excuse.” You’re rambling now, wanting to make it better but unable to find the right words to say under such an intense gaze. “Let me make it up to you.” This time when you reach out to touch him Jungkook lets you, albeit still reluctantly. He lets you place one hand on his cheek as the other settles on his thigh. He lets you kiss him too; softly, apologetically, and with all the feeling you can muster. He’s slow to kiss you back, but when he does it’s with a needfulness that makes you groan, his tongue slipping inside your mouth, delving deeply. All his earlier upset from your harsh words has morphed into a will to dominate, a desire to show you just powerful he can be that has him grabbing onto you so hard that it starts to hurt.
When you dig your fingernails into the meaty muscle of his thigh Jungkook abruptly pulls you onto his lap to straddle him, and suddenly you’re all too aware of his erection pressing hot and heavy against your core, gasping when he shifts his hips underneath you. He grabs onto your waist, grinding you down against him, smirking at the moan that leaves your lips.
“Are you gonna tell me that that doesn’t feel like a man, huh?” he growls, circling both of your hips to provide agonising friction against your clit, stimulating you through your clothes until they’re practically soaked through. “I guess you won’t want me to fuck you then, will you, if I’m such a child… if I’m so immature?”
“Please… Kook-Jungkookie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it,” you mewl, grabbing onto his shirt, your body trying to ride him even as he shoves you off of his lap.
“Take those off,” he orders and instantly you obey, stripping your lower half, your mouth practically watering as you watch him strip and then lie back flat on the bed, stroking his cock with his hair dangling into his lust-darkened eyes. You crawl back onto the bed when he beckons you with his finger, sitting astride him with your core hovering above his cock, dripping into his lap with how aroused you are. He rubs the tip of his cock through your folds, teasing you until neither of you can bare it any longer, finally grabbing onto your hips and pulling you down onto him hard, grunting as your ass slaps into his lap.
“Come on baby, show me how sorry you are.”
My oh my, those just got longer and longer didn’t they?
This scene here. This split second glance is so so important. I don’t know why people aren’t talking about it (I couldn’t even find any gifs of it and had to take pictures coz I’m computerly incompitent). But I wanted to give my own analytical response to this millisecond glance, because I think it demonstrates properly why Cas has never done anything about his feelings for Dean.
First, some context from my behalf: I always assumed Cas had never admitted his love for Dean for one of two reasons, 1) he was an angel, therefore not quite understanding his feelings himself - perhaps confusing them with familial love, Dean style. Or 2) he was afraid his love may not be reciprocated. But after watching 12x10, 12x12 and 12x23, I can thoroughly rule out reason 1.
Now, I’ll be talking a lot about 12x10 as thatENTIRE EPISODEandTHIS LOOK areso closely correlated.
Prompt: Steve doesn’t know where they come from, and he isn’t exactly sure why they’re there. All he knows is that his body is littered in bruises, and there’s something different about them. They aren’t just bruises, and they certainly didn’t come from a trip in a step or clumsiness. No, Steve knows there’s more behind the marks that litter his body.
Warnings: marks, bruises, pain, physical abuse, etc.
A/N: I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. It doesn’t have to be long, I appreciate every single comment I receive and telling me just helps inspire me to write it more frequently.
His fingers danced over the marks that littered his skin, his brows furrowed in a questioning matter. Purple and blues dents in his skin, mainly on his upper arm and scratches along his chest. They didn’t hurt, rather they just existed and if Steve never looked, he’d never know they were there. This was new, Steve thought. He had no idea where these marks came from or even why they were there.
“Steve!” His father yelled and Steve was brought back to the reality of the world. Blinking, he let his eyes fall one final time on his bruised arm before standing up and slipping his backpack over his shoulders. He’s in his finale year of high school and the pressure is on more than it’d ever been before.
Sighing, Steve ran a hand through his hair before turning and exiting his room. He was met with the sight of his father at the bottom or the stairs, staring up at him with a shake of the head. “Aren’t you meant to pick up Nancy?” He asked, his hands on hips.
Steve nodded; “i’m heading there now.”
With one final glance from his father, Steve made his way out the front door and towards his car. The bruises slipped to the back of his mind as he threw his keys in the air with pride, and caught them. Life was going great for Steve Harrington, and he couldn’t be more happy. After everything that had happened a year ago, he’d changed; for the better. And he had an amazing girlfriend to help him through the changes.
Steve had fallen in love with Nancy Wheeler, and there was no doubting that those who saw them thought they were meant to be. He was sure that she was the one and honestly, Steve felt like the luckiest man alive.
With a wide grin, he opened the door to his car and slid in. His eyes fell to the rearview mirror for one final check on his hair and make sure it was at full volume length, and it was. With a satisfied click of his tongue, Steve pushed his keys into the ignition and turned them, hearing the satisfying hum of the car engine starting up. The drive to Nancy’s house took no time at all, and soon he found himself parked just before her driveway and the girl herself was walking down the steps with a smile on her lips.
Steve, being the gentleman he was, leaned over the passengers seat and opened the door up for his girlfriend. Nancy followed his lead, slipping into the car with her books in hand before setting them down on her lap. Steve expected her to say ‘good morning’ or something of the such, but the minute her eyes caught his, her smile turned into a frown.
Steve’s own face fell with confusion, furrowing his brows as one hand rested itself on top of his steering wheel. “Geez, good morning to you too, Nance.” Steve teased, still not quite sure what had caught her attention.
Though the girl only reached out one lithe arm and touched his face with a certain gentleness. Steve meant her eyes that were flooded with concern and snarled his lips in bafflement. “Really Nancy…” He started, reaching up to grasp her wrist gently. “What’s wrong?”
“Your face.” Nancy mumbled, her fingers dancing over Steve’s face, but specifically his left eye. “Your- Your eye, who did that to you?”
Steve fumbled for a response before glancing back into his rearview mirror in question. What he found was definitely not what he expected, and now his own fingers danced over the new and fresh bruise marking his left eye. “What the…” He mumbled, scooting forward in his seat in utter bewilderment. Just like the marks on his arm, a purple and blue coating covered his left eye; somehow and somewhere he’d gotten a black eye.
He allowed his eyes to fall on Nancy for a moment, finding her just as concerned as he was but confused by his reaction.
Looking at the bruise one finale time, Steve blinked and leaned back; shaking his head. “O-Oh, that.” He tried to cover up his confusion, offering a small smile Nancy’s way. “When I was playing basketball… um, the ball came and hit me in the face. It was a stupid mistake, nothing to worry about.”
Nancy looked skeptical of his lie but let it slide; “well, just be more careful next time.” Steve nodded, situating himself back into his seat comfortably and turning back on the engine. Though his mood had shifted slightly from the particular mark now covering his eye, and he bit his lip in thought;
Where had that bruise come from?
“You can do this.” Your own eye met yours through the bathroom mirror, and you tried to swallow down the fear that consumed you. Eyeing your left eye, you glance at it one final time to make sure that it’d been fully covered by make up and let out a breath of relief when you found the marks underneath completely unnoticeable. “You can do this.”
With one final deep breath, you pushed yourself up from the bathroom sink and brushed down your hair. You met your own eye one last time before turning and heading for the exit. The second you opened the door, you stepped back in surprise when a flutter of kids your age walked by. Narrowly missing their bodies smacking your own, you tried to ignore the rapid beating of your heart.
“Room two-sixty-five. Room two-sixty-five.” You repeated in your head, glancing at the small sheet of paper the front office had given you. That was it, room two-sixty-five. Simple enough.
But as you stared at the littering figures of teenagers and the amount of classrooms with numbers a top of them, you knew that wasn’t true. Starting in a new high school was hard enough, but in the middle of your final year was even more difficult.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you pulled your sleeves further down your arm, nodding your head and begun walking. You must of walked around for a good ten minutes before a bell rung, which you could only assumed meant the beginning of class. You cursed yourself and the fact that you were so bad at directions, looking around the wall for any signal of room two-sixty-five. No such luck.
As kids ran past you and all headed to class, you were left alone in the middle of the hallway, lost. It wasn’t until mostly all of the kids were gone did you start walking again, and as you did you found the figure of another. A girl probably your age, maybe even younger, with brown short hair; she seemed nice enough. You glanced down at the sheet of paper that had done you no good but tell you which classroom you were meant to go to and the girl who stood by her locker. You needed to go to class, no matter how nervous you were and your best bet was asking the girl.
So ignoring the sick feeling you felt well within you, you stepped up to the girl cautiously. “Um- hello?”
The girl spun in response to your voice, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Yes?”
“I’m new… and I was wondering if you could tell me where this room is?” Your voice was quiet, and you were sure the girl had noticed by her curious glances. And you saw her eyes flitter down your attire, every inch of your body except your hands and face were covered by a piece of clothing and it wasn’t particularly cold out. But despite that, she still accepted the piece of paper you’d offered her and smiled.
“Of course.” She nodded, her eyes glancing over the paper before she clicked her tongue in realization. “It’s just down the hall there, the second door to the left. You can’t miss it.” You nodded, offering a small smile in response and mumbled a thank you. Before you could turn the other way though, the girls hand fell on your shoulder; “I’m Nancy, by the way. If you ever need help…”
You nodded; “thank you.”
Then before she could say anything you turned and walked in the direction she’d pointed. You let out a breath of relief when you finally found room two-sixty-five, your english class and paused for a moment. Your hand fell to your left eye, hoping everything was still covered before raising your hand to knock. Soon enough the door opened and a teacher stepped through. You worried for a moment he’d yell at you for being late, but instead he just smiled; “ah- you must be Y/N, our new student.”
With wide eyes, you nodded, not meeting his eye. “Come in, come in.” You followed him within the classroom, and you felt yourself petrified as everyones eyes fell on you and only you. You nearly missed the teacher start speaking as you felt yourself stuck. “Class, this is our new student; Y/N. Y/N, i’m Mr. Jones.” You nodded slowly, turning to him with a pale face. “There’s an empty seat at the back.”
You wasted no time making your way to the back of the class, desperate for everyones eyes to come off of you. And as you sat, you let out a breath of relief when everyone focused back on Mr. Jones. But as you gazed around, you found one pair of eyes on your own; a boys. You had no idea why he was staring at you, but your eye met his and it was almost like time slowed down.
Barry’s head pokes into the dining room table, the Neverwinter Times folded into his hands. He looks down at himself, pokes his own nose. “I don’t think so? I don’t look dead.”
Lup looks him up and down, then says, “Yep, you really don’t.”
In response, Lup takes the package she’s been holding, grabs it by the ends, and turns it on its head. Letters - bundled into packs bound with black ropes, spare ones scratched on torn napkins, envelopes-within-envelopes written in deep dark ink - spill all over the table.
“What are these?”
“Consolation letters,” Lup says, grinning. She plucks the first one off the table, slits it with a brightly-painted red nail, and begins to read. “‘Dear Lup Taaco, my cult and I would like to express our condolences for your loss.’ Aww, that’s so sweet, they’re cult-bonding.”
Barry narrows his eyes. “Is that a necromantic cult or a religious one?”
“Dunno.” She tosses it aside, picks up another one. “‘Dear IPRE, sorry for your loss. We hope Barry feels better soon. We know most people don’t feel better after being dead but he’s done it before.’”
Barry drifts forward, looking at the stack in apprehension and slight awe. He picks one up at random, skims it, and turns white. “Why do these people think I’m dead?”
“Don’t know, but there’s definitely a consensus, babe,” Lup says. “Aww, someone sent a bunch of dead flowers! I’ll pass them onto Merle.”
“Lup, no, this is weird. This - this is weird.”
“Yeah, for sure,” she says, leafing through the next letters. The mound grows intimidatingly the more Barry looks at it. “What did you do?”
“I - I don’t know.”
“Huh. Maybe someone started a dumb rumor. You never know the kinda shit floating around Faerun these days.”
True? Okay. Okay, no, this is just another mystery. Maybe there are clues in the truly preposterous number of letters sitting on the table. Carefully, Barry picks the first one up, a letter wrapped in a satin ribbon and addressed in dark ink so black it almost looks tar. He tears it open gently and sets the envelope aside, then begins to read.
Dear Miss Lup,
I’m really really sorry your husband is dead. I want you to know that my mom and my dad love him too and that if you ever need someone to talk to because death is a really really bad thing then you can send us a letter any time. I’d give you my mom’s frequency but I don’t know it.
Below is an address. It’s from the far east, a remote village that Barry only knows because he passed through there while hunting for Lup a couple of years into his search.
He’s not freaking out so much as very, very confused. He’s certain he’s alive. Pulse beating in his throat and everything. So why does everyone think he’s dead?
He goes through a couple more without finding any clues. Most are of the same vein - sorry for your loss, hope you’re doing better. A couple recommend Lup some therapists in Neverwinter. Two cite him as his inspiration for practicing necromancy. He’s gonna need to pay those fans a personal visit. Probably with his scythe.
“Barry?” Lup says after a little while. She’s set the letters down and is now looking at him strangely.
He opens another one. This one’s written in blue ink. All the others have been black. Really goes to show what kind of person picked Barold J. Bluejeans, lich and necromancer-turned-reaper extraordinaire, as their favorite of the seven birds. “Yes, dear?”
“When you died, you picked up your bodies, right?”
Barry freezes. He thinks back to those ten years on his own, dying repeatedly. He’d had a process - he’d freak out, flicker a little bit, and pull himself together - with admirable speed and courage, of course. Then he’d grab his jeans (can’t leave those behind), a couple hairs, a bunch of blood (which wasn’t typically too hard to collect), the coin, some supplies, and take off for Wave Echo Cave.
He’d leave the body, though. He didn’t need it.
“Barold J. Bluejeans,” she snaps, setting down her letter with a thwack on the table. “Did you leave your corpses strewn all around this continent?”
“I only needed a little blood to make a new body!” he yelps. “I was a lich, it wasn’t like I could pick up my body and carry it with me!”
“You managed to keep the same clothes for ten years!”
“I’ve had these jeans for a hundred years, they’re precious to me!”
“That’s fair,” Lup says, grinning too widely to be angry. “So you’re telling me, these people stumbled across your dead body and thought it was you?”
“Probably,” he replies sheepishly. “I mean, in my defense, I didn’t think anyone would find it. I kinda fell off a mountain range.”
“And you didn’t go collect them when you got an actual body?” she asks, gesturing toward him.
“I was a little busy creating your body.”
Lup sighs, exasperated. She throws an envelope at him. It drifts unimpressively down to the table. “This is it, Barold. This is what you get when you don’t show up at press conferences ever. People start to think you’re literally dead.”
“I hate them,” he mumbles. “Too many spotlights and reporters and questions. I get all sweaty.”
“You’re one of the seven birds, babe. People want to know your story.”
“They already do, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, but they want to hear it from you.” She glances over her shoulder at the Taako Time™ calendar hanging on their wall and grins. “Babe, there’s one tomorrow and you’re going.”
“I don’t wanna,” he whines. “Lup, they…they suck. All the reporters and the microphones and the spotlights….”
“No arguments, dear,” Lup says, standing and crossing her arms over his head to rest her cheek on his hair. “Lucretia hates them too and she goes.”
“She was the Director of the Bureau of Balance, she’s good at that shit now,” Barry grumbles. “Besides, Davenport doesn’t have to answer questions.”
“Davenport’s at sea, babe. Getting to interview him is like finding a Shiny.”
Barry groans, tugs on a strand of Lup’s hair. It’s dyed red toward the ends. “If you loved me you wouldn’t make me go.”
“I love you,” Lup affirms, “so I’m making you go.”
“Can I at least - ”
“No, you can’t wear your tuxedo T-shirt. You have to wear the sweater vest I bought you.”
Barry slumps his head toward the table. Lup slides down his neck to rest her chin on his shoulder. “Cycle forty or sixty-eight,” he asks, words muffled by the table.
“Forty,” she decides. “I won’t make you do sequins.”
“Thank the Queen.” He straightens. There’s ink on his forehead. Lup laughs, then licks a thumb and wipes it away. “Gross.”
The letters flare in the corner of his vision. Sighing, Barry tugs Lup onto his lap. She sits with a laugh, gleeful and teasing, and reaches reaching for a letter of her own. Leaning her temple against his, she slices open another letter, and begins to read.
“Wow, babe,” she says after a couple minutes. “You’re really an inspiration for some up-and-coming dark magic babies.”
“I know,” he sighs. She chuckles and ruffles his hair affectionately. “I’m gonna have to go talk to them.”
Lup’s counterproposal is cut off by her Stone of Farspeech buzzing against her collarbone. She picks up without looking and says “Heyo, Blupjeans household, whaddya want?”
“Barold J. Bluejeans!” screeches her brother’s voice through the receiver. Barry jumps. “You wanna explain to me why my dining table is fuckin’ swamped with condolence letters?!”
Lup and Barry turn to stare at each other in horror. Then, right on cue, Barry’s Stone rings. He checks it. It’s Magnus’s signal. They stare at it.
“Oh Gods,” Lup groans, and picks up.
“Barry? Barry, are you okay?” comes Magnus’s voice. There are a couple of dogs barking in the background, as there always are when Magnus calls. “I heard you were dead, I know it sucks, like, serious ass to be without a body, I wanted to check in, and also tell you that I’ve got a ticket for Neverwinter on hold if you need me down there - ” he says.
Lup and Barry exchange glances. Barry begins to laugh.
I cannot believe the outpouring of love for this story. I got so many messages and replies DEMANDING that I post another part to this. Thank you to everyone who sends in their feedback. Every bit is appreciated!
Y/N stormed out of the boys bathroom, her face red with anger. She heard another shout and slam come from inside, no doubt Billy hit something else. Y/N wiped at her eyes and rushed down the hall with no intention of returning to class. She turned a corner sharply and ran into someone.
“Whoa,” Hands held her shoulders to steady her. She kept her head down and tried to bypass the person. “Y/N? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Steve” Y/N’s voice cracked in the middle of his name.
“You’re crying, Y/N,”
“I said I’m fine! Get out of here before he smashes your face in too,”
“Harrington!” Billy’s voice boomed down the hall. He had murder written all over his face when he saw Steve’s hands on Y/N. “You’re dead!” Billy pointed to Steve with blood dripping off his hand.
Harry laughed happily as he landed on the grass. Draco was only seconds behind him clutching the snitch with a massive grin on his face.
“Good one, Draco.”
“Oh, it wasn’t really a good one. Pretty easy actually.” Draco drawled with a smirk.
Harry laughed again as he shoved Draco’s shoulder. “Whatever, that dive was pretty amazing.” Draco’s smirk became a proud smile. “Come on, let’s go eat something. I’m starving!” Harry said.
The smile morphed into a frown. “No. We each won one, it’s a draw. We have to play another.”
Harry grinned at him. “Let’s leave it a draw.”
Draco arched a brow. “Scared Potter?”
Laughing, Harry slung an arm around his friends shoulders. “Yes, scared you’ll pout and ignore me all day when I beat you.”
Draco sniffed. “First of all, I am not so petty. And who says you’d win anyway? So arrogant, Harry.”
Harry laughed and squeezed his friend in a hug. “Yeah. I’m the arrogant here, Draco.”
Draco gently bumped the side of his head against Harry’s as they walked to the castle. “So long as you know.”
On the following Sunday they found themselves trudging through a mountain of homework, much to Harry’s displeasure. Ron and Hermione had gone for a picnic on the grounds, since Hermione always made sure they were up to date on their work. Sighing Harry dropped his head heavily against the couch. Draco, who was curled up in the corner of the couch next to him, looked up with an arched brow. “Giving up already?”
Harry groaned and closed his eyes. “Yes.” He jerked up when he felt Draco flick him between the eyes. “Hey!” He protested, rubbing the sore spot with his fingers.
“You’d better keep going. Don’t think that you can leave it and get me to help you just because Granger won’t let you fly until it’s done.” He went back to looking at his book.
Harry turned to him with wide eyes. “That is a fantastic idea.” When Draco just let out a soft laugh but otherwise ignored him, Harry moved so he could lie leaning comfortably against Draco’s side. He closed his eyes and let out a relieved sigh.
“Potter!” Draco groaned. “I am absolutely not doing your work for you.” But he didn’t move or shove Harry off, which Harry knew he wouldn’t. After several blissful minutes, right when Harry was sure he was on the cusp of a wonderful dream, he fell to the floor as Draco stood up. He pointed a finger accusingly at Harry, “Do some work, Harry. Or we will go to the library.”
Sighing in defeat, Harry sat up and faced his books once more.
Hours later they were sitting in front of the crackling fire eating Bertie Botts beans. Draco was sprawled across a single seat with his legs hanging across the side while Harry sat on the floor with his legs crossed and back against Draco’s seat. Draco had the box of beans and alternated between taking one and lowering the box for Harry.
Ron and Hermione entered the common room with cheerful greetings. Harry appreciated everyone’s efforts to get along, since he knew it was only for his sake, but he did wish his three best friends were more than just polite to one another.
“Did you have a good picnic?” Draco asked them.
“Oh, yes it was lovely thanks.” Hermione smiled at him. Ron nodded a bit awkwardly at him.
“Oh, Harry. You’ll never guess what.” Ron started, and Hermione shot him a suspicious look. “We saw Terry there, he was in the middle of a big fight, seems like him and his boyfriend broke up.” Hermione’s look of suspicion became one of horror as she tugged on Ron’s hand. Harry’s stomach dropped as he willed Ron not to continue. But he did. “So he’s single now, and you can finally ask him out. I know you used to have a massive crush on him.”
Harry closed his eyes, but the thick silence wouldn’t be ignored. He was so glad he couldn’t see Draco’s expression at that moment. There had been a hundred moments when he meant to come out to Draco. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed or anything. It was just that he really enjoyed their friendship. He didn’t know how they’d become so
comfortable touching each other all the time, but he was scared that it would change if Draco knew. He opened his eyes to find Ron looking from him to Hermione with confusion brewing in his eyes. Hermione was watching Draco carefully, which could only mean that he most definitely wasn’t looking at them.
Harry sighed internally. He cleared his throat. “Uh, thanks.”
Hermione looked at him pitifully and quickly started talking about their day, filling the silence as best she could. She asked about how their studies went, Harry responded and Draco said a word or two.
After suffering through it as long as he could, Harry wished everyone good night. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Draco as he left, but let his hand trail along his shoulder as he walked passed.
The next morning, Harry lingered in bed. If he could, he’d avoid seeing Draco all day. Unfortunately, his last class was potions where they were partners. At breakfast he managed to get away with only a smile and a wave since Draco sat at the Slytherin table still. Harry tried hard to focus on his lessons all day, but he couldn’t deny he was nervous to see him.
When he arrived in potions at the end of the day, Draco was already there with all the ingredients for the days potion. He was chopping furiously when Harry reached him. “Hi, Draco.” He said nervously, fidgeting with the strap on his bag.
“Hi, Potter.” Draco glanced up with a small smile. After a few seconds he rolled his eyes. “Are you going to help or do you expect me to do all the work?”
Harry could have laughed with relief, but he didn’t. He gave Draco a grateful smile which was returned with a small quirk of the lips and they got to work.
The rest of the lesson passed in the same manner as the ones before. After, they walked together to dinner and Harry felt relieved. Until he couldn’t find Draco anywhere after dinner. He went to bed with a sinking feeling.
The week passed in the same pattern. The only time that Harry really saw Draco was during potions, his behavior seemingly unchanged. But Harry missed him. After potions on Friday Harry had had enough. As they walked together to dinner he blurted out. “Where have you been all week?” Grey eyes glanced up from the floor to meet his before flickering away. “I can never find you after dinner.” He said accusingly.
Draco answered softly. “I’ve had detention every day.”
“What?” Harry asked, reaching out to grab Draco’s arm. “For what?”
Turning to face Harry, Draco sighed. “You know how it is, some teachers will make up reasons to punish me.”
Harry frowned and opened his mouth to express his outrage when Draco gave him a defeated smile. “It doesn’t matter. Okay?”
Harry deflated. Draco twitched his arm awkwardly and Harry realized he was still holding him. He let go quickly but noticed the blush on Draco’s cheeks.
He deflated a little more.
On Saturday morning when Harry returned from breakfast he found Draco in the common room with his homework. After fetching his own, he sank down on the couch next to him.
Draco shifted to make more room for him.
After working for a little while Draco got up to get a different textbook and settled down again on the single couch. Harry frowned. He wouldn’t have thought anything about it before, but..
He sighed heavily and tried to focus on his work.
The next day he found himself working alone in the library. When he returned to the common room he found Draco curled up on the single couch with a book. He looked up when Harry entered and frowned slightly. “Where were you today?” He asked.
Harry shrugged, struggling to meet his eyes. “Thought I’d concentrate better in the library.” He moved to walk past where Draco was sitting, when Draco’s hand shot out as if to grab his hand but stopped suddenly, quivered in the air for a moment before disappearing just as fast.
Harry hesitated briefly. With a disappointed sigh he carried on walking.
“Harry.” Draco said.
Harry half turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. Draco cleared his throat. “Would you like to go fly for a bit?” Harry frowned skeptically, unsure of what how he wanted to respond. “There’s enough time for at least one game to end our draw before the light goes.” Draco said, smiling uncertainly. And that’s what got to Harry.
“Yeah, alright.” He answered finally.
The walk to the quidditch pitch was filled with awkward silence. At least it was for Harry. Once they were flying though, Harry felt better.
The light started to go quickly and Harry was scanning rather desperately for the snitch, it was the one he had caught in first year and he was rather sentimental about it. A glint of gold caught his eye and he dove toward it. As he neared it he saw Draco coming in from a different angle, slightly ahead of him. He pushed forward, urging his broom to go faster. At the last moment, he realized Draco would get there first and Harry would barrel into him soon after. Unfortunately, the last moment didn’t give him enough time to stop or change direction. All he could do was slow down to soften the impact.
Thankfully they were low to the ground so when they tumbled over one another and onto the grass, it wasn’t too hard a fall. They rolled and Harry landed half on Draco’s chest with a massive groan. Draco was gasping heavily. Harry lifted himself to quickly pat Draco down for injuries and once he was satisfied that he was fine he fell half onto Draco’s chest again. They caught their breath in silence.
It was the happiest Harry had been all week. Until Draco said, “Two one, Potter.” Harry looked up to see Draco clutching the snitch with a triumphant grin. He laughed and pushed himself up onto an elbow.
“You can’t tell me this one was an easy win.” Harry teased.
“No, I can’t.” Draco chuckled and smiled at Harry. Harry smiled back, happy to have his friend back. He noticed the pink tinge on Draco’s cheeks as Draco’s eyes flickered away and he shifted awkwardly. Harry sat up quickly and Draco scooted away from Harry. His heart sank.
Draco cleared his throat, “Well, let’s go back.” He stood up and retrieved his broom. Harry sat there with his knees bent and his elbows resting on his knees, drowning in unhappiness. He wasn’t going to get his easy friendship back. Draco had walked a few paces back toward the castle when he turned around. “Harry?” He said tentatively.
Harry sighed. “I can’t do this, Draco.” He shoved his hands in his hair and looked away, frustrated.
Draco frowned and came back. “What do you mean?” He asked softly.
“I mean I want you to just freak out about the fact that I didn’t tell you and be honest if you have a problem with who I am. I can’t take this dancing around it. I miss you.” He bit his lip to stop himself. After a long pause he looked up to find Draco staring at him in shock.
“You think I have a problem with who you are?” He asked quietly, which set warning bells off in Harry’s head. “You think I’ve been acting strange because I don’t accept this part of you.” He added. Then he laughed, a self deprecating sound that Harry knew well. Draco lifted a hand to his forehead. “Why wouldn’t you? It’s the obvious conclusion.” He laughed again, a little hysterically this time, which broke Harry out of his daze. He stood up and slowly approached him.
“Well, if it’s not that then what is it?” He asked.
Draco closed his eyes briefly before meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry watched a flush creep up his neck as he seemed to search for words. “Well, I couldn’t exactly be mad at you for not telling me when I’ve been keeping the exact same secret.” His cheeks were a deep pink now. Harry’s ears were ringing.
“What?” He whispered, disbelieving.
Draco gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorry.” Harry could only stare at him. Draco swallowed nervously. “Anyway, I was trying to find the right time to tell you about me. But, as you know, it’s not easy.” He laughed awkwardly again. “And somehow knowing about you made my little crush seem less impossible which is stupid, really I know, so I was just giving myself a bit of space to dispel that illusion. That’s why I got detention everyday. I couldn’t focus, I was useless in class.” His gaze was flickering from Harry’s shoulder, his collar to his throat. Anywhere but his eyes. After a fortifying breath Draco added. “Our friendship is important to me. I didn’t want to mess it up.”
Harry was confused. He was shocked. But he knew that that made him happy. He pulled Draco towards him and wrapped him in a tight hug. “I missed you, you idiot.”
Draco melted into the hug which made Harry’s heart soar. They stood like that for a long time. Eventually Draco pulled back, much to Harry’s regret. Harry searched his gaze. “It’s not impossible, you know. Or an illusion.” He whispered.
Draco’s breath caught. Harry smiled at him. “I don’t think.” Harry amended. But as he watched the moonlight play over Draco’s features he thought it was probably extremely possible. Probable in fact.
Draco watched Harry watch him for the longest time. His look of shock slowly abated until Harry was staring at Draco’s trademark smirk. “You’d better not think that counts as asking me out, because my standards are considerably higher than that.” Harry laughed and Draco smiled before adding, “I’m serious.” With that he turned and started toward the castle. Harry scrambled to catch up.
“I’ll write a poem.” He said.
Draco groaned. “Please don’t. I’m pretty set on saying yes. Don’t make that hard for me to do.”
Harry grinned. Feeling bold, he reached out to grab Draco’s hand as they walked forward. He let out a content sigh when Draco laced their fingers together.
This probably already exists but I spent two hours doing this instead of sleeping. Tell me which song you’re most like.
Welcome to the Black Parade: has a flair for the dramatic, doesn’t know
how to do a smoky eye, was in the marching band in high school, daddy issues.
Sleep: has insomnia, PTSD, nightmares, is self deprecating, just wants to go the fuck to sleep
Destroya: probably gay, moans like a bitch during sex, pretty fucking hardcore, shit immune system though, lives for anarchy
House of Wolves: will burn in hell (or believes they will), is a bad
mother fucker, has a sister who should be scared, pyromaniac, “Catholic”
Vampire Money: all over the place, drinks a lot but parties like a
beast, has a Bowie obsession, likes driving fast and loud music
Na Na Na: really artistic, pansexual, likes to scream lyrics, rebel at
heart, probably still wears bandanas, sunglasses and boots all day every
day, fuck the government
Cancer: is dying, will die, all of your friends will die, actually doesn’t have any friends, really depressed, in pain, martyr
S.I.N.G: activist, owns jeggins, would join an underground gang if they
had the balls, likes neon things for some unknown reason
Sunsets Over Monroeville: loves zombies, probably owns a Hawaiian
shirt, really quiet and doesn’t talk much, hangs out in shopping
centres/malls but never buys anything
Demolition Lovers: is
probably part of an underground gang, has to go away for “work” a lot,
has a shotgun in the trunk of their car, teal, unrequited love
Helena: recent death in the family, super fucking dramatic, lots of makeup, always wears black (maybe some red), nail polish is always chipped, imagines/fantasises things that will never happen all the time
Teenagers: super punk, goes to concerts all the time, will break shit
just for fun, has authority issues, probably friends with a lot of
delinquents, is a delinquent, doesn’t read books, drinks a lot
Famous Last Words: is constantly having an existential crisis, really
committed when it comes to relationships, cowboy boots, goes outside at
midnight for no reason
I Don’t Love You: always heartbroken,
never cuts hair, plays guitar, goes on road trips when things get
difficult, super emotional, cries a lot I’m Not Okay: is still
in high school, I don’t care if they’re 39 they’re still in high
school, hates high school, does stupid shit all the time because fuck
it, high school, is not okay, is friends with weird people, high school
Mama: PTSD, self deprecating, mama’s boy/girl/person, has a sick sense of humour, laughs manically for no reason, cutthroat
You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison: probably gay, went to
prison, had a fuck tonne of bitches (I’m kidding, they were actually
the bitch to a fuck tonne of other people), can’t adjust, has issues
Headfirst for Halos: epic, is not okay, always
trying to think positively but is screaming inside, thinks about doing
stupid shit all the time (i.e. Putting a gun to their head)
Vampires Will Never Hurt You: screams a lot, has a vampire fettish, hates Twilight with a passion, has never gone outside, wouldn’t mind dying if I was a wooden stake to the heart, sucks dick The Ghost
of You: fought in WWII, had a pretty girlfriend, wears round glasses
with gold rims, is tall and lanky, has a brother, gets shot in the
chest, screams, dies
The Light Behind Your Eyes: is finding ways
to deal with severe depression, cries a bit but quietly, reads a lot
of books, all their friends are dead, trying to stay strong despite the
fact they’re dying inside, sings like an angel
Give ‘em Hell
Kid: lives life fast, probably has killed someone, wears red and like
khaki green, shouts a lot, belongs in a 2005 MTV short, lives life on
the edge, fatalistic
To The End: has read Dante’s Inferno, is a
mafioso, fatalistic, has probably organised the death of many people,
likes to drink cyanide, sleeps a lot, owns diamond jewellery, likes
The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You: has no faith in
life, likes western movies, will yell at you, has applied for a license
to kill, likes to sleep with people (like nap I mean)
You For The Venom: likes snakes, has probably almost OD’d, hates the
doctors, is stubborn, death obsessed, has probably stabbed someone, wears striped long sleeve t-shirts, hates running, hopes to be shot one
Hang 'Em High: is death obsessed, clinically insane,
screams a lot, always makes a lot of aesthetic statements about things
with black and white connotations, Catholic, fuck off
It’s Not a
Fashion Statement It’s a Fucking Death Wish: swears in front of their
parents, wears their mum’s clothes, is obsessed with killing enemies,
is always predicting their death to be soon.
Cemetery Drive: all
too real, has a girlfriend, likes to hang out in cemeteries,
girlfriend has issues and ended her life, now has issues because of it,
drinks a lot, really fucking depressed
I Never Told You What I Do For A Living: is 100% a serial killer, sociopath, also has OCD, scary as shit
The End: is dying, but isn’t too sad, wishes to attend their own
funeral as a ghost, has no self confidence, can’t be fucking bothered
growing up, doesn’t give a shit, is very chill, wears yellow
Dead!: Is dead, is having a party about being dead,
wondering if all the assholes in their life are in hell, no one
actually likes them, laughs at inappropriate moments, is a great dancer
This Is How I Disappear: really fucking dramatic, will be upset and
disappear if you break up with them, dramatic, is a part time satanist,
will make a voodoo doll of you if you fuck with them, candles
The Sharpest Lives: goes out late at night, never showers, drinks
heavily, would probably go cannibal if it was legal, always in pain,
lives life on the fucking edge, will burn large objects, has sinus
Disenchanted: is constantly torn, never actually cries,
writes books, likes to take chances, likes birds, got in trouble with
the police for some stupid but really fun shit, friends need to get
their shit together and learn a lesson
Gravity doesn’t mean to much to them, has self confidence but not
enough to stop running away, runs away a lot, wears really funky
colourful clothing, is very kind but misunderstood
GO!: goes to a lot of cool night clubs, knows how to fucking party, is
still very punk on the inside, sweats a lot (bc they dance a lot),
jumps up and down for no fucking reason
The Only Hope For Me Is
You: is obsessed with being remembered, only has one friend, is kinda
depressed and really needs someone to hold onto, but is also really
questioning life and society, wants to run away to a more aesthetic
Party Poison: speaks fluent Japanese (cough I mean
Weeaboo), watches a lot of anime, loves Kpop and Jpop fashion, will
party but goes to the weirdest parties, dyes their hair, fuck the
bullshit meaning of life they do what they want
I’ll Hold Them Back: is a badass, known for being a badass, stole your
mum’s car and took you on the best date ever, wears a lot of leather,
ready for a fight, probably gets into a lot of fights anyway, probably
once looked like Danny from Greece
SCARECROW: is probably on
LSD, smokes a lot of weed, is really chill, too fucking chill, wears
psychedelic t-shirts, is actually a philosophical genius, reads a lot
Summertime: they might go outside if it’s summer,
listens to music with headphones on full blast, goes on the train a
lot, likes to walk around listening to music and pretends they’re
making the aesthetic parts of the music video they’re listening to,
The Kids From Yesterday: is constantly nostalgic,
loves Star Wars and Queen, always having flashbacks, wears yellow and
read things, feels misunderstood, trying to figure out the meaning of
Honey, This Mirror Isn’t Big Enough For The Two Of Us:
likes Fall Out Boy when they had long song titles, has issues, a lot of
issues, ugly screams a lot, doesn’t care, wears dark denim jackets,
hates this girl who fucked their brother
Drowning Lessons: has a
lot of anxiety, constantly worried, always running away from problems
and situations, can’t swim, always has regrets, has pink things
Our Lady Of Sorrows: was in a gang once, loves to get into switchblade
fights, is really scary and bloodthirsty, believes in pagan gods, but
will protect you, blood blood blood.
Skylines and Turnstiles:
saw 9/11 happen, life was changed because of it, decided that they
wanted to be in a band, made a band with brother and his fren, got some
dreadlocked weed smoking fanboy to join, the drummer is an asshole x3,
breaks up after 12 years, deems it to be a good idea, scared of butane
This Is The Best Day Ever: this is the worst day ever, has no rhythm,
is really confused with what is going in, went to hospital a lot and
hated it, screams a bit, is a bit scared of needles, studded belts,
Cubicles: will die alone (or at least they think),
hates their job, the only thing that entertains them at work is people
gossiping at the water cooler, is actually having a severe existential
Boy Division: is friends with people who would have a
fucking rocking funeral, stalks school girls, looks dead but only
dresses that way, likes to sing about California, paranoid all the time
Tomorrow’s Money: fell in love with a vampire, slightly aggressive, can
surf, stopped screaming three years ago, wants to be a doctor, hates
people who are thought of as heroes, ruined converses
screams in an aesthetically pleasing way, thinks you know nothing,
super weird, goes out after dark, likes to drive big cars, wouldn’t
mind driving, is super reliable even when they let you down
Gun.: was probably conscripted into the military, actually hates
violence and guns, wants to stay at home all the time, likes to call the
shots, owns an old uniform that they’ll never throw out
World Is Ugly: likes Blade Runner and fairy lights, thinks weird people
are very beautiful, insanely observant of other people’s behaviours,
wears knee high socks and converses, hates the world because it’s
Kiss The Ring: belongs in an alternate universe where
it’s still the medieval time but rock bands exist, is probably a
contract killer, likes to overthrow the king every five years, has
really fucked up logic about why it’s okay to kill a lot of people,
Make Rooom!!!!: probably goes to discos, does not
panic at them, actually has some self confidence but always gets into
stupid situations and flails, wears the tightest pants in the world,
wears earrings with crosses on them
Surrender the Night:
constantly lonely, likes to drive long distances to think, lost a loved
one, has cool patches on their jacket, has been to hospital twice,
likes to listen to you, always keeps secrets unless you fuck with them
Burn Bright: likes going to the city just to look at all the lights,
walks around and thinks that certain things would look nice on Tumblr,
unstable, can be aggressive, very in tune with their surroundings, kind
of a Buddhist
Common People: your average person, always
struggling financially, wears a lot of blue, always falls in love with
shallow rich girls for no reason, really just wants to live however the
fuck they want
Every Snowflake Is Different: loves children’s
TV shows, goes to the snow every year, loves winter and hot chocolate,
will cry if you take their toys away, will be a good parent, too busy
having fun to give a fuck
Desolation Row: got beat up at
school, is now in a cutthroat gang, spits a lot, wears a lot of
eyeliner, likes Grease but is also super punk rock, hates wearing
underwear, likes to break shit all the time
Desert Song: is
recovering from a drug addiction, is still in a really dark place,
trying to stay strong, is questioning the meaning of life, probably had
teal roots at some stage
Black Dragon Fighting Society: drinks
juice when they’re killing because it’s fucking delicious, really likes
dragons, reads too much, hates society, would run away but that would
mean no books and no juice so no fucking way, likes hot pink and black
Zero Percent: hates everyone, would kill everyone, really hates people,
does whatever the fuck they want, will kill everybody, will put zero
effort into school or work, does their own thing.
Ravenkroft: worried about growing old, has no self confidence, will
only have sex if the lights are turned off, feels very old at a very
young age because of shitty bones, also has no fucking chill
F.T.W.W.W.: fuck society, is super digital, but also really retro,
always tells people to kiss their ass, lives in a futuristic society,
likes robots, has a licking fettish, likes to destroy shit, will
probably spit randomly
We Don’t Need Another Song About
California: Summertime’s long lost twin, really doesn’t give a shit
about California, but likes the sun, probably lives in Florida, hates
magazines, probably has a fake name, thinks that nothing matters
All The Angels: is dying, has minutes left, girlfriend has issues
because she’s a little risky, everything has gone wrong, everyone is
upset, probably died three years ago, never went to heaven, likes pretty
flowers and dead things Romance: a complete and utter 1800s
Romantic, has probably ready Frankenstein, wants to go on epic
journeys, never showers, likes spices, old fashioned, would probably
get into the steampunk fashion thing
Blood: is forever in the
1920s, was a war hero but hates themself, laughs manically sometimes,
has a thing for blood but hates vampires, 90% human wreckage, 23% awful
fuck, 8% bad at math, 14% clueless
are ships.. really so important that you’re gonna just harass the people that gave you this material in the first place. make them hate fandoms in silence and worse make them hate what they create? this is especially irksome when its directed towards a)disney shows and b)shows with heavy plot. im not really directing any of this towards any show in particular mind you, theres far too many fandoms going after this trend to single any out at this point, there are some high contenders though.
more under the cut because this rant ran away from me and became way longer than intended
Request: Can I request one where Tony Starks little sister is in a failing relationship? They were at the tower arguing and Tony came in the room just as the guy was hitting her? But before Tony could do anything Bucky storms over and knocks the guy through the wall. She tells him it’s been going on for a while and she was scared to say anything about it.
Note: for anyone in an abusive relationship or family, I hope you know you’re strong enough to get out. reach out to someone that can help. without further ado, thanks for the request, darlin! I hope it doesn’t suck, omg. leave a comment and let me know your thoughts! .c
You weren’t sure how it happened; what changed. Everything was going smoothly, you were happy. Your world felt perfect. The honeymoon phase had gone and passed, and it still felt like a fairy-tale relationship. He was a gentleman - the type that opened your car door for you and made sure your seat-belt was tight enough before he drove off. The type that held open doors and pulled your chair out, took care of you when you were sick and rubbed your feet after working all day. Your relationship was one of which little girls dream to have when they get older - full of love, loyalty, and everlasting happiness.
Sadly, not everything is as it seems. Behind closed doors, that gentleman you fell in love with, along with those eyes and that shining smile that made you feel fireworks in your belly, turned cold and everything went wrong. Three words kept your feet planted.
Your feet always did become tired after being on them for too long.
The team had left for a mission, one you were able to get out of so you could spend your three year anniversary with your boyfriend while they were gone. It felt normal again, like the worst was over with and you could let go of what has happened. You made dinner for the both of you; his favorite dish. You wanted to stay in and have a more intimate evening than be in the eye of a crowd on such a special occasion.
Everything was perfect for a few hours. And then it wasn’t. He complained about his job while eating, which you listened to because you care, then he started talking about moving away, getting out of this place. You noticed the way his eyes darted around the large kitchen in the Avengers Tower. You had a gut feeling he meant this place in particular.
Your life was here. A well paying job, saving people alongside your friends, your brother was here, your friends, and New York City was your home. There’s no way you were going to give this up.
The loud clank of a fork dropping against the ceramic plate caused you to flinch in your seat after you spoke your mind. His hard stare bore into your eyelids as you stared down at your dinner with a fast beating heart. Your palms grew damp as his breathing became erratic.
“Excuse me?” His voice was rough and low. You looked up and his fists were clenched, the skin pulled tight against his knuckles. Those of which you’ve had contact with more times than you could count. Sighing softly, you kept your cool.
You avoided his eyes as you chose your words carefully. “My life is here.” Your voice didn’t come out as you had hoped, you sounded small. His nostrils flared and he jolted from the table, his thighs knocking against the edge, causing his glass to fall over and his drink to spill. Your body jerked at the action and you hoped he wouldn’t do anything.
Even hope fails sometimes.
He stormed out of the room and your eyes followed his tensed body. You sighed and rest your elbows on the table, rubbing your temples for a few moments. It’s the night of your anniversary and spending it arguing was not in your plans, so you wanted to fix this now. Scooting your chair back, you left the mess as is and went to find him.
You stepped into your bedroom and watched him pace back and forth, pulling at his hair. “Baby, can we just ta-” His head shot towards you and his eyebrows were creased together. “I don’t want you here anymore!” He yelled, the vein in his neck protruding. You stepped towards him and scoffed. “This-this is my life! I’m not throwing it away!” Your voice was louder and it surprised him.
Anger started to overtake every emotion you had. “I’m sorry but if you don’t like it, then I don’t know what to tell you.” You shrugged and he laughed, deep and menacing. “What I say goes, sweetheart. You’re mine!” He said it as if you were his property and you stood silent.
“You’re a fucking bitch, you know that!?” Your mouth fell open as he continued to yell at you. All of what he said was a lie, you do everything for him. For years you’ve been nothing but good to him.
“How am I a bitch? Because I don’t want to do what you want to do for once? I could be out with my team right now saving people but I chose to spend tonight with you!”
Your voice was just as loud as his but you didn’t care. You both knew you weren’t giving up your life here. What you didn’t know, was that the whole team was listening since they had all just arrived and heard you two in the quiet tower, and two men were making their way up to you.
He took a step towards you and gripped your arm, jerking you in place, his face mere inches from yours. You struggled in his grip and tried to pull it away but his grip was too tight. “You’re hurting me, stop it!” Your eyes filled with tears and your lip trembled.
His jaw clenched as his grip got even tighter, causing you to yelp. Your fingers dug into his hand but it wouldn’t budge. “I don’t fucking care! You’re mine and we’re leaving! What I say goes!” You ignored the pain in your arm and shoved his chest with your other hand this time. He stumbled a tad then he gripped both of your arms so you couldn’t fight back.
“I grew up here, I’m not leaving just because you want me to!” Your words only angered him more. You were denying him what he wanted and he hated it. His face came even closer to yours and you cowered away as best you could.
He let you go with a growl and you hissed at the pain, the throbbing in your arms was excruciating. He started pacing again, his fists clenched. You couldn’t take this anymore. The only thing you were leaving is him and this is the moment you’ve been waiting for deep down. Your eyes spilled tears as you gathered the courage to speak.
“We’re done.” Your voice shook and you wiped at your cheeks.
Suddenly, he turned around and lifted his hand in the air, but before he could strike, a large body ran into him, both of them going straight through the wall and into the room beside yours. You screamed and jerked away as you felt a hand rest on your shoulder. Your brother was standing there, his eyes wide with shock and anger.
He pulled you into his chest and the reality of what could’ve happened, yet again, settled in. You sobbed into his chest and he pulled you out of the room. Before you were out all the way, you looked inside and saw Bucky punch your boyfriend - ex boyfriend - in the face, yelling something you couldn’t make out.
Steve met you and Tony in the hallway, his eyes falling on Tony’s for a split second. Steve clenched his jaw as his eyes landed on your sobbing figure. “What happened? Are you okay?” He made to reach out to touch you but Tony wouldn’t let him. “Get Barnes.” Your brother rasped and Steve gave him a curt nod. Bucky’s yells were still coming from your room, seemingly getting louder as the seconds passed.
Tony took you into the common room and sat you down on the couch. You were shaking and crying as he held you in his arms. The tower was so silent, you could hear Steve yelling below at Bucky.
“You’re going to kill him!”
“He deserves it!”
“You fucking piece of shit! How dare you!”
“Bucky, he’s out cold!”
“I don’t fucking care! He hurt her!”
Tony reached for a remote on the coffee table and turned on his stereo, keeping it loud enough to drown out their yells. You always loved classical music and you felt yourself starting to calm down as the minutes passed. Your breathing slowed but you were still shaken up.
Tony turned to you and you avoided his eyes. “Y/N…” He gulped, trying to figure out how to ask this. You wiped your nose and sighed. “I didn’t know what to do, Tony.” Your voice cracked and Tony pulled you back into his arms, rubbing your back. He lightly shushed you as you sobbed loudly.
“Never again. Never. Again.” He repeated his words as a promise to you. He wanted to go down to your room and take care of your ex but he knew Bucky had done enough damage already. You needed him more anyways.
You pulled away from Tony and was about to say something until Bruce came in. He had a few cuts on his face and you knew the mission must’ve been tough since he was fighting along with them. Guilt surfaced.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but do you need… Did he.. Are you-” It was hard for him to ask if you were hurt or needed help, so you just nodded. Tony and Bruce then escorted you to the medical room. You remained quiet and so did they. The atmosphere was too fragile for speaking. But you knew you’d have to sooner or later.
Bruce checked out your arms, applying gentle pressure until you winced at the pain. He told you there was bruising but thankfully nothing was broken from what he felt. After that, he set you up to take some x-rays. He jotted everything down on your clipboard. He has one for everybody; saving the world and its people comes with broken bones and wounds.
You could detect a change in Bruce as you walked out from behind the machine. “You have a broken rib on your left side.” He walked you over to the photos of your x-rays. He pointed it out and your stomach sank as you bowed your head and bit the inside of your lips.
He looked at you, sighing. “So, two weeks ago, on the mission when you-” You nodded your head. You were arguing with your boyfriend about some guy hitting on you at a bar that night. It wasn’t your fault yet you suffered the consequences by being slammed into your dresser. Your excuse was a guard kicking you during a mission the next day.
“It was him.” He breathed out, looking back at your x-rays. The sound of the door slamming shut made you flinch - though nearly everything did. You thought it was him coming after you, but you saw Tony marching away through the glass doors. He was still angry, probably blaming himself for not noticing this before.
“I’m gonna go talk to him.” You quietly excused yourself and Bruce nodded, giving you a tight lipped smile. Your mind was racing with thoughts as you followed after your brother. Where would your ex go? Is Bucky okay? Did Steve get him away before he killed your ex? Will everyone judge you for staying when they find out?
Your thoughts were silenced when you arrived at the common room. Tony and Bucky were talking and you stood in your spot, eavesdropping. “He’s definitely getting locked up. I don’t want him anywhere near her ever again.” Bucky was breathing heavily and Tony hummed in agreement.
“I wish she would’ve come to me. I could’ve stopped this.” Tony sounded sad now, his anger leaving his body as he thought about it. Bucky sighed and you peeked around, seeing him lay his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Look, none of us would’ve known. It’s not your fault or hers.”
Your eyes burned with tears and you left before you were seen. You didn’t feel guilty for not telling them, they knew you couldn’t. In a situation like that, nobody could really know what would happen if you tried to leave. The first time you did, you had to pack on make-up to hide a black eye. You thought staying was the safest option - you were wrong. But leaving wasn’t so easily done.
You asked Friday to let everyone know you needed to be alone for a few hours to clear your mind. As you entered your room, your eyes went straight to the huge hole in the wall. It would need to be replaced but that was the least of your worries right now.
Taking a deep breath, you walked out onto your balcony. It was slightly windy and you looked out across the area, the sound of the city below calmed your nerves only slightly. The sun was setting and you felt a small wave of peace. You were finally free from him and the torment. But not entirely.
The door opened suddenly and you were immediately alert, the hair on your arms standing up straight. “It’s me.” Bucky could see your tensed muscles and he kicked himself for it. Had your ex not done those things to you, you wouldn’t be so scared with someone enters a room, or when you hear someone yelling or slamming something. Noises like that terrified you.
Bucky walked up beside you, watching the city bustle with cars and people. He looked down at his hands, all clean from the blood from earlier, some from the mission and some from your ex. You could hear his breathing, it was ragged and shallow. He looked back out towards the city and everything was blurry now from his tears.
“How long?” His whisper mixed with the wind but you caught it. You swallowed thickly. “Two years.” Your voice was barely over a whisper and you could see Bucky slump his shoulders from your peripheral. “Why?” His voice shook and your eyes filled with tears yet again.
“He said he loved me.” Your lip trembled and you shook your head, not seeing how untrue those words were until now. Bucky clenched his jaw, glancing at your face. Oh how he wished he hadn’t because it made him want to have his hands around your ex’s neck again. It took everything in him not to leave and go finish it.
“I was so scared to say anything. I thought that…that maybe the first time was just an accident.” Your voice cracked and Bucky pulled you into his body and held you close. He was shaking with anger, his eyes shut tightly as he imagined the things your ex did to you. Holding you was his anchor right now.
Bucky pressed his lips to your head and you leaned further into him. “Y/N, you’ll never have to see him again. That was not love. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” He whispered in your ear, his voice full of certainty and sadness.
You nodded against his chest and sighed. “I feel so stupid, Bucky. He-he wanted me to leave and I didn’t want to, I couldn’t. Then like every time we argue, he just lost it. I feel so weak.” You sniffled and gripped Bucky’s shirt tightly, as if he’d disappear and you were just dreaming and you’d wake up next to your ex, trapped in fear.
Bucky pulled away and let his flesh hand hold your cheek as softly as he could. “God, Y/N, no. No, you are not weak. Don’t say that, not around me, not ever. H-he could’ve killed you.” His voice cracked this time, his blue eyes pooling with tears. The longer Bucky stared into your eyes, he realized just how much he wanted to show you what love really is. But not yet. He could only protect you for now.
“Dammit, I could kill him. You deserve so much more, Y/N. If you’ll let me, I’ll protect you with my life. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.” Bucky’s thumb caressed your skin and a tear fell down his cheek. You nodded, letting out a sob as you pulled Bucky in for a hug. His arms held you close and tight, blocking you from everything.
(If you want to be added or removed, or if you’ve changed your URL and still want to be tagged, SEND ME AN ASK, DON’T COMMENT ASKING TO BE TAGGED! Strike-through or no notification while your name is listed, it means I couldn’t tag you! check your settings! .c)
Y/n, we… we
made a bet…” he looked down not wanting to finish his sentence. Just the
thought of Jin being so heartbroken over something made your heart hurt. “we
made a bet a long time ago…. We… y/n please don’t be mad’ he looks as if he was
shaking. ‘Just spill it Jin! What’s so hard to tell me!” you angrily spat at
him, you wanted to know the truth, why have they been acting weird?
“y/n we made a
bet on you when we first met you… we at first didn’t want to be friends with
you but w-we bet on who could be friends with you and stay friends with you the
longest…” he was on the verge of tears, you could tell he felt sorry and wished
it never happened but you were too mad to notice.
eyes filled with tears, you couldn’t seem to say anything, you had no words. You
heard your name being called by all of them, each trying to hug you or console
you, telling you they were sorry, that they loved you but you couldn’t hear it.
You didn’t feel comfortable anymore, you were holding yourself on their couch
scared to touch anything. You kept your head down you didn’t want to show them
that you were weak, that they actual hurt you. before they could explain themselves,
you ran. You ran as far as your legs could take you. out their door, onto the
streets, you could hear the members running after you but you didn’t want to
talk to them, you ran so fast that when you stopped you didn’t know where you
You sat on the
pavement by the edge of the street, you were cold, heart broken, and everything
in between. How could they? They meant so much to you. you even called them
your family but family doesn’t do that, they don’t bet on you, for what reason
to? How much were they getting paid for this bet? They bet your whole life ever
since you meant them. For once you felt like you’ve made a family, who you
could trust, who has held you when you were in tears, when you were hurt, they
were there they promised you that you could trust them that’s they’ll never
hurt you and the sad part is? That you believed them. You wanted to forget
them. Was all this a joke to them? They never cared about you huh? When they
comforted you would they just laugh when you were out of earshot? How could
they do this.
You got up and started to walk you didn’t know
where you were going but you just wanted to go…. Leave this place. The more you
thought about them and the ‘bet’, the faster you walked. The tears in your eyes
blurring your vision caused you to fall and scrape your knee, you yelped in
pain as your whole body fell to the ground, that’s when you lost it, the crying
started again but this time without an end. you tried to get up only stumbling
back down to the ground, you twisted your ankle, you reached your phone and
called (y/bff/n) she was your best friend other than the boys. “pick up….” you
mumbled between your tears. “hey y/n! what? Slow down. What happened?” you
managed to calm down enough to tell her to pick you up, you couldn’t tell her
what happened… at least not now… you sent her your location, and within 10
minutes she had raced over to you. “y/n!” she ran out to help you into her car.
when you sat down, you started crying again, how could one person cry this much
you thought to yourself but you didn’t really care, you were hurt, you didn’t know
if you could trust them again. (y/f/n) just let you cry it out she tried to
comfort you the best as she could but it didn’t seem to work you were still
crying, balling your eyes out. You were thankful she didn’t ask any questions
you weren’t ready to answer any of them, you didn’t know if you’d ever be.
When you reached your apartment, you could see Jin,
Hoseok, and Yoongi waiting there you saw their faces, Hoseok was in tears just
like you, Yoongi was hurt he turned around not facing the members with him to
cry a bit before turning back around trying to conceal his tears, Jin looked
broken… you didn’t know how to explain it any other way then broken. You squeezed
(y/f/n) signalling her to help you out. You whispered in her ear that you didn’t
want to talk to them ad she just nodded she gave you a sad look before
following your command.
. She helped you out
of the car, and you could already hear the scream your name in relief. (y/f/n)
told them to back away, they followed her instructions. You could hear them
mumble your name a few times but they stayed quiet. When you were at your
apartment you heard Yoongi yelling your name, he was running after you “y/n
talk to us! We promise we don’t mean it! We regret it!” he yelled so loud you
were pretty sure he woke up everyone in the building “please… please y/n …I
regret it so much…. Please don’t leave us… don’t leave me” he fell to his
knees in front of you, with the others running behind him trying to catch up
you. You yelped out a cry, and slammed your door. You couldn’t face them, so much
was running through your head you didn’t want to face them. You dragged
yourself down by the door and Yoongi started banging on the door “y/n! Please! Let
me in! let us in! please y/n!” with every bang your heart broke. You could hear
Hoseok and Jin as well. It broke your heart, you couldn’t face them though you
were to hurt from what happened you couldn’t. while their voices got louder
your sobs did as well. You heard Jin tell Yoongi and Hoseok to give you some
space and with one last bang you heard “Y/n we won’t give up, I won’t give up…I’m
sorry” they could hear your sobs and you knew that, you tried to cover your
mouth anything to muffle the noises but it wouldn’t work you just cried louder.
A/N: lol guys what do u think? thank you for patiently waiting for part 3! honestly i had so many thoughts for this part and I’m sorta ok with how it turned out what do y'all think? thank you all for liking this series so much it means the world to me! part 4?
Buck, I've been feeling like my head's splitting open on-and-off since Tuesday, and now I'm getting other symptoms too. Please distract me with embarrassing stories about Steve? i love those.
when steve was twelve, he broke his arm.
surprisingly, it wasn’t in a fight–he was carrying a twenty-pound bag of potatoes up the stairs for his ma and he tripped. went down the whole flight, potatoes bouncing everywhere. after he’d recovered a bit from the tumble, he sat up, looked at old mrs. mackinnon– who was just coming out of her apartment–and said “sorry for the mess.” and then he looked down and noticed that his forearm was bent in the middle. and then he started crying.
so his ma ran him to the hospital and they set his arm and put it in a cast.
and thus began the first era of the Unstoppable Steve. (the second era was after erskine made a limited edition Jumbo Steve, and the third was Steve: Reheated.)
see, if you’ve ever had a plaster cast, you know that those things are shockingly sturdy. steve went from being a sixty pound asthmatic with rage issues to being a sixty pound asthmatic with rage issues and a right hook like a piledriver. at first, his arm was too tender for him to do much, but after it started healing up, and he started getting in fights again, he figured out that his right arm was better than a baseball bat when it came to hitting stuff. that plaster cast started white, but it didn’t take long for it to get brownish with dirt and bloodstains. he still got his ass kicked, but it took a bit more work, and the other guys actually looked like they’d been in a fight.
anyway, steve was half in love with that cast. sometimes i thought he never wanted to take if off, and if it hadn’t messed with his drawing, i think he’d’ve worn it for about a year. but about a week before it was supposed to be taken off anyway, stevie got in a fight with gerry, the shoemaker’s kid from up the block. gerry was a mean sonofagun. he was thirteen, and he’d hit puberty early, so he had a solid eight inches on wee stevie. and he was as dumb as a box of bricks.
he hated steve. steve was tiny, sure, but he was sharp as a tack and well-liked. there wasn’t an old lady within miles that didn’t love stevie, so he was always getting penny candy for running errands for them. gerry had a habit of cornering stevie in alleyways and beating on him until candy fell out. steve had a habit of not letting him do it without a fight.
gerry cornered stevie and started shoving at him. steve shoved back. gerry shoved harder. stevie stumbled, and gerry threw a punch. stevie took it full in the face, and then swung back, full-force, with that sledgehammer cast of his.
steve plowed his cast into the old brick alley wall. the brick shattered.
stevie’s cast broke. so did two of stevie’s fingers.
steve started screaming.
now, understand–it was old, old brick, but all gerry saw was little crazy stevie rogers punch a hole in a brick wall and then start shrieking like a berserker. rat-brain gerry wasn’t bright, but he knew a losing battle when he saw one, so he ran like the hulk himself had just showed up in that alley. smartest thing he could’ve done, really, because i’d just shown up and if he’d kept after stevie, i’d’ve handed him his ass.
as it was, i pried stevie’s cast off and walked him back to the hospital. the doctors said his arm was plenty healed and didn’t need a new cast, and splinted up his fingers.
steve didn’t like the splints nearly as much as he’d liked the cast. they made absolutely terrible weapons.
“I’m sorry, that book still hasn’t been returned to us yet.” The kind lady behind the desk spoke as she tapped away at her keys, “The gentlemen who has it is going to have a hefty fine when he decides to return it.”
“He’s gonna have more than a hefty fine.” You mumbled, tapping your fingers off the desk. “How long overdue is it?” You asked, peering over the desk at the screen hoping to catch a glimpse of the name of this mysterious gentlemen. The librarian pulled her screen away abruptly making you huff in defeat.
“I’m sorry Miss but that’s confidential information, you’ll have to wait until the book is returned or try another library.” She pulled her mouth into a tight line and began typing once again. You needed that book, it was the last one in the series and you were not prepared to pay a whole $25 on a book, not when there was a perfectly good one you could loan out for free. Slumping on the desk the librarian peered at you over her glasses, “Do you need anything else dear?” Yes I do I need that bloody book.
Pulling your head up you put on the best fake smile you could muster and glanced quickly at her name tag. “Susan,” You beamed, leaning ever slightly towards her “I just really need that book. You see, a poor art student like me doesn’t have a lot of money and libraries are where I can enjoy myself without having to pay and -”
“You should always donate some change to your local libraries dear, we have bills too you know.” Your smile dropped momentarily before you realised your face was betraying your annoyance. “Oh yes! I know that only too well Susan, see if you could just give me the details of the man who has the book I want, I could do you a favour and go and collect it.” Susan stared at you blankly, her fingers stilled over her keyboard. “I could be the libraries vigilante if you like.” You laughed, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear nervously. “Like an avenger, only on a smaller scale.”
Susan began to shake her head as you clasped your hands together, “We don’t need -”
“No I know you don’t but see I need that book!” You snapped at her, you’d already tried the other libraries for it when you discovered last week that it was loaned out. Unfortunately for you so were all the other copies. You gave her your award winning puppy dog face before she switched the computer off and placed a sign on her desk saying ‘Out to lunch’. You frowned as you watched her collect her things and move to the room that was reserved for staff only.
It was completely empty in there, it was your local library that you frequented quite often but never really saw anyone else there. You weren’t stupid, you knew that being the closest library to the local college there was always students drifting in trying to look inconspicuous as they made their way to the first floor history section. Wandering around the place you realised that the place was actually empty, Susan was out back for her 45 minute break and no doubt there were students canoodling upstairs but…You were alone.
Heart racing with sweaty palms, you ran around to the other side of the desk and switched the computer on. All you needed was a name and an address and then you could hightail it out of there like nothing had happened.
“Okay, calm down, you’re not hacking S.H.I.E.L.D…” You mumbled as you were faced with a password entry system. Putting your head in your hands you glanced around the desk, there wasn’t much save for a photo of a man in a cap and gown and a bobble head of Thor. You snorted, flicking his head as you racked your brain for an idea. Pausing, you began to type.
Books. Password denied.
Avengers. Password denied.
One attempt left. You glanced at the nodding Thor and tried again, holding your breath you typed Thor.
“Black widow eat your heart out!” You muttered before typing the name of the book into the database. “Susan, we all have our vices.” It had been loaned out for quite a while, the man who currently possessed it has had it for 7 weeks. Who takes 7 weeks to read a book?! You thought while pulling up his details.
Grabbing a pen from a pot you quickly scribbled down his name and address on a piece of paper before switching the computer off again and hightailing it out of there.
It was a warm day so you decided to walk seeing as it was only a couple of blocks away from the library, you were running through the scenario of how the situation was going to go in your head when you realised that it wasn’t quite as far as you had thought. It was a small set of fancy apartments that was just down the road from the avengers tower, you remember the media saying that Tony Stark had built them but no one figured out what for.
You scanned the list of names next to buzzers until you found the one you were after, “Donald Blake you’re mine!” You whispered as you pushed the buzzer for the apartment above his.
“Hello?” A voice crackled through the intercom.
“Hi! I’m Donald’s girlfriend and I thought I’d surprise him,” You chirped, “he think’s I’m in California!” This better work.
“Oh how romantic! Do you want me to buzz you in?” The voice asked.
You let out a silent prayer to whatever God happened to be listening before replying in a sickly sweet voice, “Yes thank you that would be amazing!”
Moments later you heard the tell tale buzz of the door unlocking, you quickly rushed through the glass doors and into the lift, pushing the button for the 3rd floor. The end was in sight, you were so close to getting the book and if you were honest, the adrenaline from the whole thing was more fun now than actually getting the book. The doors opened as your stepped out and made your way to the only door, steeling yourself you took a deep breath in and knocked quickly.
Picking at the skin around your thumbs you stopped breathing when the door opened to reveal none other than Thor, God of thunder himself.
He looked bigger than you’d imagined. Not that you’d imagined him of course, but he seemed bigger than he did on TV. You swallowed quickly as your checked the name and address on the slip of paper.
You looked up at the confused God, “Hi, does uh, Donald Blake live here?” You asked quickly, glancing at the paper before showing the God the slip too.
His laughter was like a boom, deep and hearty his whole body shook as he stepped aside to let you in. He shut the door behind himself before he led you through to a sitting room.
“Loki!” He laughed, gesturing to a man reclining on a chaise in the window, book open in hand. He was handsome you’d give him that, not in the obvious way like Thor but handsome non the less for a guy who tried to take over New York.
Your eyes locked with his when you realised that Donald Blake probably wasn’t gonna be sharing an apartment with the two asgardian brothers. Loki’s eyes roamed over your form as you stood next to his brother, his gaze was calculating and judgemental but not as cold and icy as you’d thought it would be. There was more indifference really.
“Brother.” He replied eventually, his voice more silky than you’d expected it. His eye’s had gone back to his book once he’d examined you and Thor motioned for you to sit.
“No thank you,” You noticed the younger prince’s eyes snap over to watch the scene unfold. “I’ve actually come for Donald Blake.” Puffing your chest out you turned away from Thor’s amused smile to glare at the raven haired prince who was watching you with curiosity.
“I’m guessing Donald Blake is a fake name, I don’t care. All I know is that I didn’t hack into that stupid computer using your name,” You shoved a finger into Thor’s chest before pausing and smiling, “Susan loves you by the way, you’d make her day if you visited.” Turning back around to Loki you noticed he’d close his book and sat up, your nerves were getting the better of you now as he stood up to his full height.
He’s taller than I thought he’d be.
“Anyway, you’re overdue on a book I want so I’ve tracked you down so you can return it.” Placing your hands on your hips you nodded once, signalling that you were finished.
Loki’s mouth fell agape slightly before looking off to the side confused. Your confidence and bravado that had spurred you on had left, the adrenaline in your veins was replaced with fire as you felt yourself getting more embarrassed with each beat of silence.
Thor had taken to sitting on the couch that Loki was leaning on, a large smile plastered onto his distractingly attractive face. “You hacked into the libraries system?” Loki clarified.
You nodded. “Found our name and address?”
“Came here, let yourself in.”
“Knocked on our door and now you’re demanding a book back so that you may read it?”
I sound like a freakin’ psycho.
Thor looked between me and his brother who at that moment in time, had his head cocked to the left and was studying you very intently.
“How did you get into the building?” Thor laughed, taking a swig of whatever was in the bright rainbow coloured mug.
Oh god now I’m gonna sound insane, officially insane. You thought before clasping your hands behind your back, rocking on the balls of your feet. “There’s a very nice lady upstairs, and uh, I told her that I’d flew in from California to see my boyfriend, Donald.” Thor clasped Loki on the shoulder and stood up taking his rainbow mug and his chuckles with him down the corridor.
You panicked, how could the god of thunder leave you with the god who’d tried to take over your planet not even 5 years earlier? Movement caught your eye as you watched Loki move with every bit of elegance you’d expect from a prince over to a leaning pile of books in the corner.
He didn’t seem as bad as every said really, watching him move books from the top to the bottom before moving the pile all together to sift through another you began to wonder.
“Which one’s your favourite?” You asked quietly, his hands pausing for a moment before carrying on with their task. You left it there, you’d already made yourself look like a lunatic and didn’t want to annoy the trickster god anymore by asking him mundane questions.
He seemed to find what he was looking for and straightened up, walking over to where you were with three very purposeful strides. “Here,” He spoke softly, handing you the book you’d come for. You smiled and flicked through the pages out of habit. “It’s this series actually.”
Your smile dropped as you looked up to him, realising that he was answering your question after all. “I rather liked this series, of all the boring books earth has to offer these one’s are rather amusing I suppose.”
“If you like these one’s then any of the books written by Neil Gaiman would probably suit you,” You let out a breathy laugh as you tucked the book into your rucksack. “His stories are about norse gods actually, and how they -” You stopped as you realised you were babbling again, with a wave of your hand you glanced at the door. “You don’t care, why would you? I should get out of your hair, thanks for the book.” You turned to leave as Thor entered the room again.
Waving at him over Loki’s shoulder you turned back to the raven haired god, “Maybe I’ll see you at the library sometime,” You smiled at him as you pulled the door open, “bring money, Susan says you’ve a hefty fine waiting for you!” You laughed nervously before closing the door behind you.
Mind whirling from meeting two very handsome gods, you leaned against the wall as you waited for the elevator to arrive. “Book lady!” Your head whipped round to see Thor standing in the doorway to the apartment you’d just exited.
“Yeah?” You answered as you saw Loki glancing nervously between his brother and you, “What’s your name?” Thor boomed as the lift arrived with a ding.
You grinned, “Y/N.” Stepping into the lift you tried to ignore the quiet bickering that was going on between the two brothers. You pressed the button for the ground floor but it wasn’t moving, and the doors wouldn’t close either. Watching as Thor grinned at his brother while talking quietly you began to stroll back over to the pair.
“Not to sound imposing, but the elevator’s broke.” Loki glared hard at Thor once more before watching his brother walk away.
Loki’s mouth opened and then closed again, looking off the the side you followed his gaze but found nothing of interest.
“You ok Loki?” His head snapped back with wide eyes.
He cleared his throat and nodded, “Would you like to get coffee?” He asked quickly, glancing behind him at Thor who was grinning like a mad man.
Once again you felt yourself warm up as you nodded a bit too quickly, “I think I’d really like that.” Loki’s face relaxed as he grabbed a jacket from the coat stand and pulled the door shut. “You take every girl who tracks you down for books out for coffee?” You teased, taking the stairs with him.
He smirked as he held the glass entry door for you, “Only the ones called Y/N.”
If you're still doing Voltron fics, could you do one with a Winged AU where Lance hides his wings because they're different, pretty, but different, and when something goes wrong on a mission he uses them to save everyone with some really cool unique power he has? I mean, if you want to. I really love your work and wanted to know.
This took me like three days to do because I couldn’t stop colouring wings for them. Anyways, I hope you guys like this.
Lance watched his teammate’s fly around the nest he was laying in. They set up the nest in the hanger’s rafters so they could easily go up there after missions and still have plenty of room to fly around when they were traveling through space. He found it funny; when he first met each of them in the Garrison he was puzzled by their wings but now that they were in space, it all made sense. Shiro soared above him, his black and white speckled wings stretched out to either side of him. Unlike usual, he looked completely relaxed as the air blew through his fringe.
He dodged neatly to the side when Keith shot up from underneath him, trying to knock him off course. They laughed and circled each other in mock fight formation. The red, yellow, and orange wing beat wildly trying to make up for the sheer size that Shiro’s wings had over his own. He laid his head on his arms to look over the side of the nest when they fell into a nosedive towards the floor.
Hunk and Pidge both shriek and dove out of the way, Hunk’s chocolate brown and golden wing instinctually covered Pidge even though they were already standing on the ground. She huffed and pushed the limb off as Hunk gave sheepish apologies. She only gave him a fond grin but looked up at Shiro and Keith with an annoyed glare, which they didn’t notice as they were still chasing each other around the hanger. Her emerald green wings snapped up and she gave chase, surprising the two at her speed. Hunk laughed and gave a powerful beat and was gliding alongside the others. Lance looked on with a smile, he loved seeing his friends fly. They were able to forget about where they were and what they were meant to do and just became kids again.
‘Maybe it’s time to tell them the truth,’ Lance thought with a small frown. It had been months since they came to the Castle and they had undoubtedly bonded as not only a team but closer to a family. He heard the sound of soft flapping and looked behind him to see his team with ruffled feathers and carefree smiles on their faces.
‘No time like the present, I guess,’ he turned to them with a smile.
“How come you didn’t join us?” Shiro asked curiously trying to stroke his feathers into place. Lance looked down with a nervous gulp and started wringing his hands together.
“I was actually thinking of that right now,” he said. Looking up he saw that he had every paladin’s attention. He pressed his hands together to try and stop them from trembling.
“What is it?” Hunk asked. His forehead was creased in worry as he looked at his best friend. Not even he had seen Lance’s wings and he had known him the longest out of everyone. Not by much, they met the first year of the Garrison but still.
“I-um,” he mumbled trying to work up the courage. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard, he trusted them and he wanted them to know.
“It’s okay Lance, we’ll understand,” Shiro said encouragingly with a small grin on his face.
“I- I’m wingless,” he finally blurted out.
‘Shit,’ he thought. He cautiously looked up at his teammates and almost cringed at the pity that was plan on their faces. They all rushed forward, engulfing him in a hug and began chirping and cooing at him in comfort. He sighed into the group and after a while ducked down out of it. Although being wingless wasn’t uncommon, they still felt guilty that they had been flying around carelessly while he was grounded.
“Lance… I am so sorry,” Shiro said after a moment of silence. The others nodded in agreement looking heartbroken at Lance. He gave them a single shrug and slightly turned away from them.
“It’s alright I guess, I’ve lived with it my entire life,” he stated softly. He walked to the edge of the nest and made to get out.
“Where are you going?” Keith asked. Lance turned to them and gestured to the door at ground floor.
“I’m pretty beat, I’m going to crash for the night,” he replied with a shrug.
“You could sleep up here,” Pidge suggested looking at the rest of the team. They nodded and looked at Lance with hope. He bit his lip and looked away.
“I would but I, uh, have to shower and do a face mask and stuff still,” Lance replied shooting finger guns at them to their disappointment. He felt guilty as their wings drooped slightly.
“Maybe if I’m not too tired I’ll come back after I’m done,” he sighed. They immediately perked up again with a smile. He headed for the ladder attached to the beam and shrieked in surprise when arms lifted him up and began descending to the ground. He glanced up and saw Shiro grinning down at him. He gently placed him on the ground and ruffled his hair.
“I hope I see you later,” he said before taking off again back up to the nest. He nodded even though he knew that Shiro couldn’t see him and trudged out of the hanger.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” Lance growled at himself as he turned the water in the shower on. He paced in front of the mirror and wrung his hands together in agitation.
“Wingless?! Really?” He groaned dragging his hands down his face. He faced the shower and grasped the hem of his shirt and carefully peeled it over his head. He carefully unwrapped the bandages wrapped around his torso and let the cloth slide down his feathers. He sighed and ran his fingers through the dull blue feathers and looked in the mirror. He winced as the ache in his joints when he lifted and flexed the four wings on his back.
As far as he knew he was only the third person to ever have four wings. The first he came to find, told the world of his condition believing himself to be descended from a god. Ultimately he was captured by the government and experimented on to find out more about his mutation. The second was a newborn girl who was taken away from her mother the minute she was born.
She didn’t make it to her second birthday.
The government dubbed anyone with four wings as a rowan.They found that that the wings were far more durable than normal wings almost as strong as a military grade armour. When they seemed threatened they turned into sharp and hardened like steel, it rendered them incapable of flight but the feathers were razor sharp. This is what made the government so wary of rowans. That and the fact that the first subject immediately attacked them after he transformed his wings this way. However, it was after months and months of merciless experimentation.
Lance was lucky and blessed to have been born to a very large and loyal family. He had his mother and registered midwife of an Aunt to thank for being born in the family home instead of in the hospital. He was registered as being wingless from the moment he was born and grew up being carefully monitored and maintained his whole life. Not that he minded much, he knew the danger he could potentially face if he was ever found out.
They couldn’t keep him locked away for long and relented when he decided to apply to the Garrison. Thanks to his distantly related Uncle who worked as a medical examiner he was able to get in and confirmed as wingless. He may have been lying to the government but hey, they lie all the time and no one gives them shit about it.
He knew that he could potentially be in a lot of danger for doing this but it felt like something that he needed to do. Maybe one day, he would become a famous explorer and he could become an advocator for rowans, just like him. That is if there were people like him on Earth. He looked mournfully at his tangled and muted feathers and wanted nothing more to soar through the air with his new family but he wasn’t sure what they would do. They were all still members of the military and were constantly briefed on what to do if they ever encountered a rowan in the field. He missed feeling the wind in his feathers though, he hadn’t had the chance to fly since he joined the Garrison.
He sighed and climbed into the shower letting the warm water wash away his thoughts. He couldn’t exactly go back to the nest tonight and tell everyone that he wasn’t wingless but actually a rowan. It would be too much for them to process. He would just have to wait a little bit longer until he knew for sure what they thought of him. He smiled at his plan and decided that it was the best course of action for now. If only to make himself feel more comfortable with the situation. After a half hour, he got out of the shower and attempted to dry off. He shook his feathers slightly trying to rid them of water but stopped when they started to sting from overuse. He sighed and locked his door in case anyone tried to get him in the middle of the night, he would have to leave them uncovered to dry properly and wrap them again in the morning. He carefully laid on his stomach and propped his head up to look at the door. Deep down he wished one of his teammates would come and ask if he was going to join them but he knew that they would be busy enough grooming each other’s wings to worry about him.
Usually recon missions went very well for them, all things considered. When your bones were light enough to step without making noises and were able to quickly fly out of a galran’s visual range, it was quite hard to detect them. Because of this they usually didn’t have a contingency plan prepared if something went awry.
“We’re pinned, Shiro!” Keith yelled into the coms. The sound of Keith’s bayard slicing and shots from Hunk’s cannon were loud in the background.
“Everyone head to Hunk and Keith’s location if you’re able,” Shiro commanded.
“Roger,” Lance said in response, he turned from his own defeated sentries and headed towards their position. They were lucky that this particular outpost was occupied only by sentries and drones as it had been abandoned by the Galra a long time ago.
“I’m close guys,” he heard Pidge say. Looking at the schematics of the base, he could see that Shiro made it to them and Pidge was heading down the corridor to join them, making Lance the furthest away. He sighed when he noticed that they had been corralled in what looked to be a sealed storage hanger and the only exit was the way they went in. He gritted his teeth and leaned forward into a full sprint determined to help his teammates. He could hear their laboured breathing and pain grunts as they took hits from the sentries.
“There’s too many of them!” Pidge yelled out in panic. He darted around the corner clutching his bayard tightly in his hands. The minutes felt like hours as he rushed through the halls, the sound of his teams panicked yells and shouts of pain. He froze when he saw the state that his team was fighting in. It almost felt like he was watching the scene in slow motion. Pidge’s foot being grabbed as she tried in vain to fly away and being slammed into the ground. Hunk trying desperately to shoot away the sentries but being tackled mid shot. Keith swinging his sword wildly and the look of surprise when he was punched in the jaw; and Shiro, oh Shiro. He was already on the ground and was absolutely covered in them, he swung his arm taking out sentries left and right but he was still trying to drag himself over to protect the others.
It only took a split second for Lance to take all of it in and begin storming towards the opening. Without thought, he banished his bayard away from him and began running towards the entrance. There must have been almost one hundred sentries activated, maybe more but he wasn’t about to falter.
“Lance! Run!” Shiro shouted when he noticed the paladin coming closer to the battle. At his voice, the sentries turned their attention to the newly arriving human. The marks on their body gave an ominous red glow as they began running at Lance. The others began struggling anew, wanting desperately to help their friend. The one they thought would be more helpless than them because he was wingless.
“Lance!” They screamed out in terror for him. Their eyes widened in shock when the back of his armour shattered and metallic looking wings burst out. He twisted around with the wings pushed out. They sliced clean through the first line of robots. They watched in shocked awe as Lance twirled around with his wings spread, destroying sentries in a deathly dance. As the last one fell he faced away from them, his wings lifted.
“Rowan,” Pidge breathed out in shock. The wings dropped in realization and Lance looked over his shoulder at them.
“I’m sorry,” is all he said before he ran away from them. They leapt up ready to follow close behind him but Shiro held out his hand for them to stop. They looked at him in confusion.
“We need to give him a little time, just enough for him to settle,” he said. They reluctantly agreed and walked out of the hanger.
After exiting their lions, they decided that they had to look for Lance. It wasn’t that difficult since they found his abandoned chest plate near the rafter ladder. They landed in the nest and saw Lance huddled in a ball at the other side of the nest. Without the metallic sheen on Lance’s feathers, they could see how lifeless and messy the wings really were.
Without a word, they all cuddled up against Lance. Shiro and Hunk on each side and Keith and Pidge in front of him. They didn’t need to say anything to him, and they didn’t need his explanation. They already understood why he was afraid to tell them. They could feel Lance begin to tremble between them and start to let out small sobs between breaths. Hunk gave a small smile and cradled Lance’s head against his shoulder. After an hour of silent comforting, Shiro laid a hand on Lance’s wing and carefully folded it out over his lap. Lance abandoned Hunk’s shoulder to look at him in confusion. Shiro grinned at him and began brushing his hand through his feathers, gently untangling them.
“You don’t have to Shiro,” Lance mumbled.
“I want to Lance,” He replied grabbing Lance’s cheek in his palm. “Let me do this for you,”
“I want to too,” Hunk said excited and carefully draped his other top wing onto his lap. Lance’s head whipped to Hunk’s side again in shock.
“No arguments either,” he said when he saw Lance begin to open his mouth. He gave Hunk a pout but obeyed.
“Me too,” Pidge grinned reaching for his lower wings. He didn’t even try to put up a fight this time, even when Keith mumbled something and got to work on the last one.
“Thank you,” he said gratefully. He rested his chin on his folded arms as he leaned on the edge of the nest. He wasn’t sure if he could look at any of them without bursting into tears, so he looked down at where he could see Blue instead.
“Maybe after this, we can go flying?” Pidge suggested. The rest of the paladins nodded their heads but this time they all turned to Lance as well. At their silence, he turned just enough to see them.
“Um, I haven’t exactly flown since I joined the Garrison,” he stated sheepishly.
“Well, then it’s about time you stretched your wings then isn’t it?” Hunk smiled.
“I guess it is,” he smiled back after a moment’s hesitation. Everyone gave a small cheer and got back to their jobs. Just as careful as before but now with a sense of urgency. Lance beamed down at Blue, feeling absolute love for and from the people around him. He couldn’t be any more lucky and blessed than he was right now.
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Public Teasing, Public Masturbation, Teasing in the car and in the bedroom, pleading, seduction, striping Dylan because he’s sexy as fuck, dry humping, thigh riding, hand jobs, face riding, handcuffs, blindfolds, 69 (aka oral male and female receiving), overstimulation, praising, orgasm denial, female riding male (regular and reverse cowgirl), whiny Dylan, mentions of dominant Dylan, A lot of submissive Dylan, BREATHY MOANS
Notes: I will make this short as I am writing this pool side from hell. I’m so sorry this took forever. I have no excuses. But hopefully it was worth it. I honestly don’t know if this is my best writing for what you guys wanted from this. I promise the next thing I write won’t take as long.
When it came to love, you never understood what all the fuss was about, truly, you didn’t. Not until you met Steve Harrington, that is, and the whole world just started making sense.
EARLY MORNING KISSES:
The first privilege came in arguably the most
affectionate show of love – a kiss placed on your lips so early in the morning
you never quite know whether you’re dreaming or awake. And it is the absolute
sweetest because you are the first thing on Steve’s mind when he opens his eyes
and the last one before he closes them.
Early birds chirp their cheery tunes at dawn and the
sun slowly rises; bright rays peak through the closed curtains of your room and
burn the side of your cheek in almost a loving way. Steve is the first to stir
– naturally, he is much more sensitive to sudden changes in lighting and
temperature – and once he pries one hazy sleep ridden eye open all he can make
out is a blurry image of your white ceiling. He blinks a few times, inhales a
few breaths that taste like your perfume before his senses finally flow back
into him and he tilts his head to the side. His hair sticks to his face and he
shoves it out his eyes; he sees you still deep in sleep and most likely
dreaming. And he wastes no time to lay his hand on your waist, feel your hot
skin burn his fingertips as a lazy smile blooms on his lips. This peace lasts a
moment, or possibly much longer, after all it’s hard to tell time when most of
the world is still sleeping. He leans in and captures your lips in a soft kiss
– a kiss he gives you every morning because true to the fairytale of Sleeping
Beauty, you can only be awoken by a true loves kiss. He tried other methods.
Tickling. Calling your name. A dozen alarm clocks. Nothing got a reaction,
except this one thing and he did not use it sparingly.
The vast skies of dreams cloud with reality as slowly
you feel yourself sucked into a stuffy, hot room, with dewy sweat coating your
skin and batches of hair tickling your cheeks. The senses alert in one deep inhale and you grin immediately
once you realize that Steve’s lips still rest on yours; a raspy giggle escapes
you as you playfully smack his arm and he gradually, with one last peck on your
cheek and a sweet and hoarse ‘Good
morning…’ moves back to his pillow. Your hand finds his under the sheets,
your fingers squeezing his as you hum.
Hawkins Movie Theatre is your favorite spot to hang
out and of course Steve knows this. After all, he took you here on your first
date. So each time you stepped through those double doors felt like the first
time holding his hand all over again.
Midnight séance. A horror movie with flashy imagery
and more nudity than you expected plays on screen as teenagers that are legal
and not sit in couples and whisper amongst themselves. You sink into the plush
red seat and inhale the scent of popcorn, cola, and something frying. The
sounds are loud and unpleasant and you have to refrain from cringing when the
volume jumps just a bit too loud. Your eyes stay glued to the screen despite
the urge to ogle your boyfriend – you know that once you glance at him you will
be unable to look away.
His hand rests on your thigh. Naturally, shoulder hugs
are only for starting lovebirds, but you still remember how he pulled the old ‘yawn-wrap-my-arm-around-your-shoulders-don’t-freak-out-please’
shtick on you and how you absolutely swooned. Suddenly memories appear more
interesting than the movie and you drift away. Oh, what a rainy day it had been
when he had asked you out, not all that smug and cool. Not like the rumors
painted him to be at all. He caught you after school, after basketball
practice, as you were leaving your club with a stack of books and flyers
occupying the space in your hands. He had offered to carry some heavier books
and you had smiled sweetly at him for it. Then, once you reached your locker,
and as you put the clutter away he had asked you if you wanted to ‘Catch a
movie sometime?’. Your first reaction was to raise a brow in confusion and mild
amusement. When you saw that he was serious, and despite himself nervous, your
cheeks bloomed red and a shaky ‘Yeah…I’d like that’ fell from your lips
before you could even think about it.
Steve’s hand squeezes your thigh and you perk up.
Meeting eyes with him you try to bite down the smile. Seems he got bored of the
Your house had been turned upside down as you, in great
anger, tried to explain what the hell had happened to one of your friends. And
how no one was supposed to know about it.
Steve sat on your bed with a book in his hand –
English literature, can’t say it’s his favorite – as you pace around the small
space of your room with your hands up in the air repeating the same wild
gestures as you fight to control the volume of your voice. With blushed cheeks
and a permanent frown on your face, you suddenly halt and stare at him, “Can
you believe it?!”
“No.” He says, turning a page, “How could she?” His
voice tatters on the edge of genuine interest. Frankly, he doesn’t think it’s
that big of a deal, but if you want to vent he isn’t going to stop you.
“I know, right!?” You release a frustrated sigh and
run a shaky hand through your hair; a moment of absolute silence passes and
worried Steve glances up at you. Wide eyed, you state, “I don’t think I can be
friends with her after this.”
You want his opinion. Dear God, you want his opinion.
His advice is debatable in quality (Dustin, after all, didn’t get the girl
despite Steve’s 100% proven technique) and to toss in his two cents in the beef
that you have with your friend? This may potentially ruin your and hers
friendship, or at the very least what’s left of it. Silently, he puts the book
aside and motions for you to come closer. Sadly you walk over, and gently
grasping your hand he pulls you into his lap. His head comes to rest on your
shoulder as his arms wrap around your waist and you find a comfortable position
to rest. A heavy sigh escapes your lips and he can’t help but frown. He doesn’t
want to see you like this.
calls softly, his fingers hooking some loose strands of (color) hair over your
ear, “Don’t be sad. I mean, I’m really not the best person to discuss girl
troubles with, but like you said…She’s a bitch.”
You nod, “I know, but…But she’s my bitch, Steve.”
He thinks, “…Yeah. She’s your bitch.”
“I should call her.”
“Yep. You go do that.”
TAKING PICTURES TOGETHER:
You love looking at pictures. Especially on rainy days
when there is nothing better to do and the need for social interaction is on an
all-time low. You suppose you like them so much because they are proof. Proof
that something magical had happened.
“Oh my God!”
Your mother cries, her hands grasping the Polaroid camera as if her life depends
on it, “Oh my God, (F/Name)! (F/Name)
come here! Our little baby’s all
grown up now!” Her voice cracks at the end and you can’t help but release an
You share a look with Steve. He gives a shrug. The two
of you stand together, his arm around your waist. Graduation. You wear your
best dress, finest hairdo, and perfect smile. You are positive Steve put an
extra hours’ worth of work into his hair today, and you have the sudden urge to
run your finger through it, though the amount of self-control you have
surprises even you.
Another flash lights up the room and flinch and squint
your eyes to shield yourself from the sudden attack. This is possibly the
sixteenth picture that had fallen to the floor with your mothers promise to ‘Pick it up later! Now pose!’. Not having
the heart in you to refuse her, you straighten your back, smile to the camera,
and pray that you don’t look half as uncomfortable as you feel. Steve leans in
and you feel his breath brush your ear, “Do you think she’ll ever stop?”
“Smile and pretend like you’re having a good time,
VIBING ALL NIGHT LONG:
The amount of records you have stocked up in your room
makes Steve proud to call you his girl. The fact that the two of you share the
same music taste is a huge plus, too.
…And your favorite song starts playing on the radio
that goes in perfect tune with your laughing. Steve’s car suddenly turns into a
dance floor – you squirm in your seat and do quick work to open the window to
let the whole neighborhood hear your jam. The stars shape into fairy lights and
street lamps flicker like at the disco on a Friday night. You close your eyes
and inhale the scent of dewy grass as and wind and pollinated sleeping flowers.
Summer is your favorite time of year, and no matter what hour you decide to
sneak out the house you always find yourself in a permanent state of daze and
awe. Last remnants of heat tickle your cheeks and you flash your eyes open,
look at Steve and he shares your brilliant smile.
You hold your choice of beer up to his face, “Sippy!”
You demand. He gives you a dismissive laugh, his hands firmly on the steering wheel
as he continues to drive around.
“I can’t—“ But before he can finish you turn up the
volume and demand again.
“I’ll have to park the car!” He warns. You shake your
head, “We’ll have to walk a mile home!”
“Don’t care! Sippy!”
a/n: edited this at 3am lmao don’t @ me if u find mistakes orz ALSO! FEEL FREE TO ADD TO THE LIST <3
if you like my stuff and want to support me, don’t forget to treat me to a KO-FI! take part in the 7K followers gift HERE!
I don’t know why I keep doing this to her, but I also needed to get out my frustrations with a man who just has been trying to creep in my mind. Hopefully it’s over now. Here you go @silhouetted-beauty love you sis <3
Jeon Jungkook was a tall guy, handsome with all those ethereal artwork tattooed on his arms..and your best friend. He was by your side whereas you faced a painful heartbreak, caressing your hurt soul for as long as you needed him. But how much can a friendship withstand if one of the two develops feelings?
anonymous requested: for the soulmate prompt thing at first i was like aww for number 18 but then i just imagined modern reddie and eddie has fucking all star by smashmouth stuck in his head who the fuck is singing all start oh it’s richie (also on ao3)
Everyone knew that if a song was stuck in your head, it was because your soulmate was singing it. Eddie had always thought it was cute until it began happening to him. Now the main reason he wanted to meet his soulmate was to strangle them for singing such annoying songs.
Eddie struggled to concentrate on the textbook in front of him. He groaned and closed the book, resting his face in his hands. Bill gave him a concerned look over his laptop.
“Something wrong, Eddie?” he asked.
The brunet looked at him in exasperation. “They’re singing again. Why do they always have to start singing whenever I’m doing something important!?”
Bill smiled sympathetically. “What is it this time?”
Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me / I ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed / She was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb / In the shape of an “L” on her forehead
“Fucking ‘All Star’ by Smash Mouth. I hate my life, Bill.”
His friend laughed. “You say that now but you’ll change your mind when you meet your soulmate.”
The hypochondriac rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Bill. You’re not the one with a soulmate that sings meme songs and weird indie shit. I wish my soulmate sang pretty songs like yours,” he grumbled.
Hey now, you’re an all-star, get your game on, go play / Hey now, you’re a rock star, get the show on, get paid / And all that glitters is gold / Only shooting stars break the mold
Eddie whined again and buried his face in his arms.
“I want to die.”
He shot Bill a glare when he laughed.
“Are we rehearsing tonight?” Bill asked the lead singer and founder of their band.
Richie groaned. “I don’t want to but we have to keep practicing that song we’re gonna cover for the show on Friday, which is two days from now. So yeah, we’re rehearsing.”
Bill snorted. “Alright, I’ll let Bev know then.”
He left to call their bassist and Richie leaned back in the lounge chair in the Student Union. He began to hum the tune of their new song. The trashmouth pulled out his notebook and scribbled down some notes and lyric ideas.
I come home in the morning light / My mother says when you gonna live your life right / Oh mother dear we’re not the fortunate ones / And girls they wanna have fun / Oh girls just want to have fun
Richie smiled wide as he stilled his hand. He really wanted to meet his soulmate. From what he could gather by their taste in music, they’d be fun to be around.
“What are you smiling about?”
He looked up. Bill sat down across from him, eyebrow raised knowingly. Richie’s cheeks reddened as he looked back to his notebook.
When the working / When the working day is done / Oh when the working day is done oh girl / Girls, they wanna have fun
“My soulmate’s singing.”
Bill nodded, a smirk forming. “Beverly’s on her way,” he told him. “She’s bringing dinner, also.”
“God bless her fucking soul.”
Eddie watched as Stan threw himself dramatically on the couch in his apartment. He groaned loudly before regaining his composure and sitting up.
“Everything okay, Stan?” Eddie asked, genuinely concerned for his friend.
The curly haired teen looked up at him. “Yes and no.”
The brunet raised an eyebrow in confusion.
“Yes, I’m fine as in there isn’t anything actually wrong with me. No, I’m not fine because my soulmate won’t stop singing love songs.”
Eddie gave him a jealous look. “I’d take that over getting ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ stuck in my head every hour.”
Stan snorted. “I really want to meet them but it’s unlikely. I just hope the chances are good enough that we go to the same university.”
“I get what you mean. I want to meet my soulmate and beat the crap out of them for getting all those shitty songs stuck in my head, but yeah, I also want to meet them for the obvious reasons.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, Eddie, but your soulmate sounds like a fucking nightmare,” his friend said. “Anyway, ready to start this dumbass history project?”
Eddie groaned and went over to the TV and turned it on.
“By the way, my roommate might be back, like, halfway through this documentary,” he explained as he inserted the DVD.
“I’m warning you now but history is honestly the most boring subject so don’t get mad at me if I fall asleep, which is very likely. Just pay extra attention,” Stan told him, pulling his feet up on the couch.
Eddie rolled his eyes and sat with him on the couch, pressing the play button. He tried to focus but the dull voice of the narrator explaining the French Revolution was making it hard. That and the new song stuck in his head.
Your sister thinks that I’m a freak / She’s been ignoring my calls, we haven’t spoken in a week / I get so drunk that I can’t speak / Yeah, nothing’s working and the future’s looking bleak and I say
“Really? Now of all times?”
“Song stuck in your head?” Stan asked as he repositioned himself to lie down.
Eddie nodded miserably. “Yeah, and it sounds loud. You know what I mean.”
“No, not really.”
Three beers and I’m so messed up, get drunk and I can’t shut up / She says that I drink too much / I fucked up and she hates my guts / She says that I need to grow up
“It always happens when I really need to focus. I feel like they know,” Eddie explained.
“Well, block it out and pay attention. I can feel my soul dying as this documentary progresses.”
The hypochondriac laughed at his friend and drew his legs up on the couch so he was sitting crisscross.
I’ll drink ‘til I’m staring at the ceiling / I’ll be just fine I’m numb and losing feeling / I can’t tell lies anymore
“What are we even supposed to do for this assignment?” Stan asked, looking over at Eddie.
He shrugged. “I think we’re supposed to watch the documentary and then write some questions? Our professor said he’d pick the best ones and use them as essay questions for the next test.”
I just don’t know what to do, I’m still fucked up over you / She says that I drink too much / Hawaiian red fruit punch / She says I need to grow up
“It shouldn’t be too bad considering the French Revolution is pretty straightforward,” said Eddie.
His friend groaned again, leaning his head back against the couch. “Kill me.”
True to his word, Stan fell asleep about ten minutes in. Eddie tried his best to pay attention, scribbling down possible ideas for questions, but four more songs came and went. The documentary had just ended when he heard the apartment door open. He looked up from the TV where he was removing the disc.
“Hey,” Eddie waved. “How was practice?”
Bill dropped his bookbag on the ground and headed into the kitchen.
“It was good,” he told Eddie as he poured himself a bowl of cereal before draping himself over the armchair. “We got a lot of stuff done and perfected the two covers we’re doing for Fridays show. Which you better still be going to.”
Eddie rolled his eyes when Bill gave him a pointed look. “I’m going.”
He grinned. “Good. Anyway, what the hell were you watching?”
“It was for a stupid assignment for my history class. Speaking of, Stanley, wake up! It’s over.”
He shoved Stan with his foot, jerking him awake.
“Okay, first off? Rude. Secondly, your couch is very uncomfortable, please tell me you don’t make guest sleep here.”
Eddie shrugged at him. “Do you wanna, like, stay and get take out or something?”
Stan stood up, stretching his arms over his head, causing his shirt to ride up a bit. “No, I should probably get back to my apartment and hope my roommate hasn’t burned it down,” he replied.
He seemed to just now notice Bill. “Oh, you must be Eddie’s roommate. I’m Stanley.”
Bill smiled at him and Eddie noticed Stan’s cheeks flush. “Bill.”
“Nice to meet you. Anyway, I should head out. I’ll see you tomorrow, Eddie.”
Eddie said his goodbyes as he walked out of the apartment. He noticed how his roommate’s eyes lingered on the doorway.
“Hey, just out of curiosity, is he single?” Bill asked, looking back at Eddie.
“Unbelievable,” he shook his head as he walked back to his room.
“What, Eddie? Are you going to answer my question or not?” his roommate shouted after him.
He ignored him in favor of his phone vibrating. He checked to see that it was a text from Stan.
[ from: bird boy ] Okay so uhh
[ from: bird boy ] Your roommate is hot as fuck
[ from: bird boy ] Like,, raw me please
[ to: bird boy ] never ever ever make me read those words ever again in my life
[ from: bird boy ] Pass the word on to him I’m begging you
[ to: bird boy ] im blocking you
“Is it okay if my roommate joins us for lunch? I promised I’d go with him last week but obviously forgot and then made plans with you. He just texted me asking where we’re meeting.”
Richie looked up and Bill and laughed. “Fine with me, Big Bill. You talk a lot about your roommate. I’m excited to meet him.”
Hold up, they don’t love you like I love you / Slow down, they don’t love you like I love you / Back up, they don’t love you like I love you / Step down, they don’t love you like I love you / Can’t you see there’s no other man above you? / What a wicked way to treat the girl that loves you / Hold up, they don’t love you like I love you / Oh, down, they don’t love you like I love you
He cracked a smile. “I really want to meet my soulmate.”
Bill raised an eyebrow.
His friend snorted and rolled his eyes before returning to texting his roommate about his whereabouts.
How did it come down to this? / Scrolling through your call list / I don’t wanna lose my pride, but I’m a fuck me up a bitch / Know that I kept it sexy, and know I kept it fun / There’s something that I’m missing, maybe my head for one
“Okay, he’s on his way. I told him I’d order for him so let’s get going.”
Richie nodded and followed Bill into the restaurant. They ordered their food, with Bill ordering also for his roommate, before diving deep into conversation.
“Bill, I swear to god, if you ask about him again I’m going to kill you.”
A short brunet stopped abruptly behind Bill, unaware of Richie’s presence. He took this time to admire him. He was cute. Really cute. Richie grinned.
“Hiya,” he said with a grin, taking the newcomer’s eyes off his friend.
“This is my friend Richie. Richie, this is my roommate Eddie,” Bill explained. “He’ll be having lunch with us if that’s okay with you.”
Eddie gave Richie a quick once over and a small smile before sitting down next to Bill. Their food arrived shortly after and they began to eat.
“So, Eddie,” the trashmouth began. “Are you coming to our show on Friday?”
Eddie looked up, his look a bit skeptical. “Our show?” he repeated.
“I’m sure you’ve heard all about the band from Bill.”
“You’re in that band?”
Richie laughed. “Eds, I formed that band!”
He grimaced. “Don’t call me Eds.”
The dark-haired teen reached over and pinched his new friend’s cheek. “But its cute, like you!”
Eddie slapped his hand away, only looking mildly embarrassed. He glanced at Bill.
“Is he always like this?” he asked.
Bill looked at his friend and sighed. “Sadly.”
Richie placed his hand on his chest in mock offense. “You hurt me, Bill. This isn’t how you were treating me last night. Why do you always have to act so different when we’re in public?” he whined as he began to pretend to cry dramatically.
“Beep beep, Richie.”
Richie grinned wide and pushed his chair back. “I have to go. You’d better be at that show tomorrow, Eddie, or I will be very sad!”
He slung his bag over his shoulder and headed toward the exit.
“He didn’t pay,” he heard Eddie say to Bill.
“This isn’t the first time.”
Richie waved over his shoulder and blew Bill a kiss. He winked at Eddie, his grin widening when he saw him blush.
Friday finally rolled around and Eddie decided to invite Stan to Bill’s band’s show. He made sure to specifically mention that his roommate was in this said band because he knew Stanley would never go otherwise.
“Can you please stop talking about you and my roommate fucking,” Eddie pleaded, pressing his fingers to his temples. “And are you sure you still want to go? You weren’t looking too good earlier.”
“It’s the depression,” Stan replied, giving him a look. “But I’m okay now.”
Eddie nodded. “Okay. Let me know if you want to leave at any time and we will.”
Can I get your number? / Can I get you into bed? / When we wake up in the morning / Will you give me lots of head?
“Oh, that’s nice,” Eddie sighed as they got closer to their destination.
“Me too. Or at least parts of a song.”
Everybody wants to love you / Everybody wants to love you! / Everybody wants to love you
They approached the venue, easily identifiable by music and cheering. They paid the entry fee and walked inside. Eddie was immediately greeted by sweaty, dancing bodies and loud music. He saw Richie up on stage, strumming a guitar. He spotted Bill in the back on the drums, and two other individuals: a girl on bass and a dark-skinned guy on another guitar. He couldn’t help but stare at Richie, who caught his gaze. The dark-haired boy grinned and winked at him before continuing with the song.
“Will you lend me your toothbrush? Will you make me breakfast in bed? Ask me to get married And then make me breakfast again!”
Eddie watched as the rest of the band joined in for the chorus.
“Everybody wants to love you.”
He froze. The Richie sang the next part alone.
“Everybody wants to love you!”
Eddie felt as if his skin was on fire. His hands started shaking and checked his pockets, cursing internally because of course he didn’t bring his inhaler.
“Eddie!” Stan snapped him out of his daze. Distantly he heard the band sing another line. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to throw up. Do you need me to take you to the bathroom?”
He could only nod. He didn’t think that he would react this way to meeting his soulmate. Stan grabbed his hand and led him through the crowd. He was dimly aware of the song ending and people cheering. He didn’t notice the look on Richie’s face when Stan pulled him into the bathroom. He turned the sink on and wet a paper towel, dabbing it on his face to cool himself down.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“The lead singer of that band? The one on the guitar?”
“Richie? Yeah, he’s my roommate and best friend. He’s also terrible. What about him?” Stan asked, genuinely concerned for his wellbeing.
Eddie stared at him. “He’s your roommate? You live with him?”
“Unfortunate, I know. Wait, how do you know him?”
“Bill introduced me.”
Stan rolled his eyes. “Oh, god. You’re the guy he’s been gushing on about for the past twenty-four hours. It’s disgusting.”
“Says the guy who won’t shut up about my roommate,” Eddie accused.
“Yeah, whatever. Anyway, what does you almost having an asthma attack have to do with Richie?” Stanley questioned, crossing his arms.
“Well he’s, uh, he’s my soulmate,” Eddie confessed.
The curly haired boy’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit. How do you know? God, he’s going to be ecstatic when he finds out.”
Eddie reddened. “That song. It was stuck in my head on the walk over here. It sounded like it got so much louder when we came inside.”
Stan nodded. “Well, you have to tell him because he looked hurt when I had to drag you in here.”
“I literally only met him yesterday,” Eddie whined.
Stanley rolled his eyes. “Yet you like him! Man up and tell him that he’s your soulmate.” He gave Eddie a quick hug before exiting the bathroom.
Eddie took a deep breath. He moved to open the bathroom door but it was pushed open. Richie grabbed his hand.
“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.
He short-circuited for a second. “I have to tell you something.”
Richie rubbed his thumb over the palm, making Eddie shiver. “Okay.”
Eddie looked away, cheeks red. “You’re my soulmate.”
“On the walk here, I had that song you just played stuck in my head and I’d never heard it before,” Eddie admitted.
“What did you listen to before meeting Bill for lunch yesterday?” Richie asked him.
“Um, I listened to Beyoncé. Lemonade specifically, but I don’t know what this has to do with anything.”
Richie pushed him back against the bathroom wall and grabbed the sides of his face. He kissed him hard, hands moving from his cheeks to his waist. Eddie was thrown off guard but immediately regained his composure, kissing him back earnestly, his fingers curling in his shirt. Richie coaxed his mouth open, the wet sounds of mouths and tongues pressing together filled the small room.
“I can’t believe you just made out with me in a fucking bathroom. Do you know how germy and disgusting these places are?” Eddie panted as they broke apart.
“Relax, babe. It’s not like I’m fucking you in a stall,” he grinned and pressed his forehead to Eddie’s. “Unless you want me to.”
Eddie pushed him away. “Beep beep, Richie,” he used the phrase he heard Bill say yesterday to get him to shut up. “Absolutely disgusting.”
Richie laughed and kissed him again, this time gentler. He pulled back and placed a kiss on his temple, intertwining their fingers together.
“I gotta get back out there,” he said, pulling him toward the exit. “I’ll dedicate the next song to you, darlin’.”
Eddie smiled wide as his soulmate led him back out into the crowd. He’d strangle him for singing all those annoying songs another night. Tonight was all about them.