#and I just. I don’t fucking know. if this is just a stupid thought that shouldn’t be pursued please I want to know.

[yuuuhiii]

dirty little secret ᡣ𐭩

sum : Satoru has always been popular. With his good-looking face and eccentric personality, it was no wonder. He's every girls dream guy, whether that be for a quick fuck or lover. However, amidst a game of seven minutes in heaven you find out his dirty little secret and use it against him.

includes : 5.8k words, SMUT! (minors go away.) , sub!satoru x dom!reader, reader is kinda mean…, enemies?? to lovers, situationship, loss of virginity, heavy miscommunication, maybe ooc Satoru?, college au, alcohol usage

Satoru was always the talk of your college's campus. They were always about the same thing.

"I heard he has a big dick and knows how to use it."

"I heard he has girls cumming in seconds."

It was honestly tiring to hear every single time you'd sit in your lecture. Did anyone ever have anything else to talk about.

You never liked him.

It's not like he ever did anything to you or said anything. You guys had never interacted actually. You just hated how popular he was and how everyone seemed to be obsessed with him.

Yea he was hot but so was his best friend so what made Satoru so special.

You were never popular, you'd say you were actually pretty irrelevant, but you never minded that. You liked your peaceful and somewhat lonely life.

You were never one for parties but one of your friends. More like your only friend, begged you to come. You had only agreed because when there's a party there's alcohol.

And who didn't love to drink a little and let loose.

The party was honestly less than disappointing. That could just be your opinion though, you loved to judge what could you say.

It was funnier the more you thought of it. Just a bunch of horny college kids in someone's house with wack ass lights and a stupid playlist. You never got the appeal but hey you were here so.

However never in a million years would you think literal adults would be playing seven minutes in heaven. The worst part was you were one of the adults in the circle. You had lost a game with your friend, so this was the outcome.

Now as you sit in the circle with a fat frown on your face, it deepens when you realize Satoru and his best friend are in the circle.

What were the odds you would land seven minutes in a stupid cramped closet with him. You'd say zero but—

shit.

Satoru locks eyes with you and blinks. No cheeky smile that he'd give every other girl, just a blank stare and flushed cheeks which you assumed was from the alcohol. The other girls in the circle whine and you roll your eyes, standing up and grabbing his wrist, dragging him in the closet.

"Don't have to much fun!" Suguru says as he locks the door.

It's quiet. Very quiet.

And dark.

You can barely see your clothes and even your hands. Ironically you can feel Satoru burning holes into your face.

"Stop staring." You grumble. He jumps and looks at his hands.

"Sorry." He mumbles.

Ok...weird? Why wasn't he making advances on you? Did he not find you attractive?

The thought of that has you rolling your eyes. It's not like you cared about what he thought but he surely wasn't living up to ‘his name’.

"You're not gonna do anything?" You break the silence, and he perks up.

"Hm?" He blinks and you shift on your feet.

"Nothing, it's just a little shocking. Thought you'd be trying to get in my pants by now." You laugh and he purses his lips.

"What do you mean?"

This guy.

"Oh, come on don't play stupid. You know what I mean." You cross your arms.

He blinks.

“You sleep with like every girl on campus!” You swing your hands and he messes with his hands. He awkwardly laughs and you are beyond confused right now.

“I-I’m a virgin.” He mumbles.

No.

Fucking.

Way.

You burst out laughing but quiet down as he just stands there.

“Wait. You’re serious?”

His silence has your jaw almost on the floor.

“Oh my god!” You laugh in amusement.

“It’s all a lie.” You laugh again and his brows pull together.

“N-No. I mean I make out with girls but I just don’t sleep with them.” He crosses his arms, tired of your humiliation.

“Yea but these girls think you’re like some sex god.” You smirk and he huffs.

“I wonder what everyone would say when they find out you’re a virgin.” You tap on your lips and he gasps.

“You wouldn’t.” He straightens up.

“Oh but I would.” You grin and he’s sweating bullets.

“I-I’ll do anything!” He pleads and your eyes widen in surprise.

You would be lying if you said having the most popular guy on campus like this wasn’t exciting for you.

“Anything?” You say slyly and he nods immediately.

Your mind is filled with lewd thoughts of him. Having this obnoxious confident boy begging at your feet had you riled up.

“So all of it’s an act huh?” You bite your lip, trying to hide your smile.

“This is gonna be fun.” You look at him and his heart skips a beat.

“Alright! Times up losers!” Suguru says as he opens the door.

He’s confused to see you both looking the same as when you entered. You push off the wall with a smirk but Satoru grabs your wrist.

“A-Are you gonna text me?” He looks so pathetic.

You look him up and down.

“I’ll see you soon.” You feign innocence and push past Suguru.

“Dude, what happened?” Suguru blinks between your retreating figure and Satoru.

“I think I missed up.” He runs a hand through his hair.

Satoru has been on edge this whole week. He’s so paranoid, you haven’t even texted him or anything.

Would you go back on your word?

You wouldn’t right?

Did you not wanna see him anymore?

He jumps when a buzz from his phone goes off. It’s a text from you saying to open the door and his eyes widen.

He flys out of his room and goes to open his door. It’s dead in the night and you’re standing there with a monotone look on your face.

“Uh, hi.” He mumbles and you look up at him, a smile rising to your face.

“Can I come in?” You blink and he opens the door, shuffling to the side.

He’s in grey sweatpants and a loose black shirt, his pale hair shooting everywhere.

“So, uh, why’re you here.” He’s messing with his hands, something you noticed he does when he’s nervous.

“I just finished studying and I couldn’t sleep so.” You drift off, looking around.

“Wanna have some fun?” You say with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Fun..?” He gulps and you step closer to him.

“Mhm.” You hum, gliding your finger up his arm. His breathing is uneven, you catch on and you bite your lip.

“Only if you wanna of course.” You look around and he nods.

“Words.” You snap your eyes back to him.

“Yea, that’s fine.” He nods, a blush forming on his face.

Your arms fly to wrap his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He freezes for a second but then he’s kissing you back. His hands joining at your waist.

He was a good kisser at least but this only made you more curious to know just how far he’s gone.

You swipe your tongue over his mouth and he gives you entry. Your tongue wastes no time in meddling with his. He groans when your tongue flattens against his, his hands tightening on your waist. You pull away with a smile and his eyes are cloudy.

“Wanna go to your room?” He nods dumbly, leading you to his room.

It’s a little messy but pretty minimalistic at that.

“Are you always this nervous?” You blink up at him and he shuffles.

“No? I’m usually drunk when I’m making out with girls so.” He nods and you hum.

He looks small as he sits on his bed, fidgeting with his hands again. You feel a little bad.

“We don’t have to do anything.” You say and his eyes snaps towards you.

“No! I-I want to.” He licks his lips and you grin.

“Ok!” You hum, standing up and sitting yourself on his lap.

His breath hitches but before he can collect himself your lips are on his. His eyes flutter closed as your tongue dominates his, his hands rub along the small of your back, pulling you closer to him.

One of your hands drag down his chest, resting on his stomach. He stutters and you bite his lip making him moan. You pull away grinning at his now red puffy bottom lip.

“Wanna take these off?” You pull at his sweats and he gives you a meek nod. He wiggles them off and you palm him through his boxers. He hisses, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Have you ever been touched like this? Hm?” He shakes his head no and mindlessly squeeze your thighs together.

“How come?” You squeeze him and he lets out a whine, pre cum staining his boxers.

“I-I don’t know.” He breathes out and you kiss his tip through his underwear, his pupils are blown as he stares at you.

“That’s it? You don’t know?” You mumble as you pull down his boxers, his cock slapping against his stomach.

“How come someone knows your dick is big then.” You cock your head to the side, pumping him. He whimpers with his lip tugged between his teeth.

“Y—You—fuck—think I’m big?” His doe eyes boring into yours. You let him go and he whines.

“Answer my question.”

“S-Some girl groped me, I think.”

Your eyes darken.

“So you lied?” Your hand stops.

“N-No! I’m sorry don’t stop.” He moans, grabbing your hand and placing it on his cock.

“I told you I get drunk so I…don’t remember.” He sighs when your thumb glides along his slit.

“Hm.” You seem displeased and he gulps.

“Are you mad?” He breathes heavily and you shake your head. Your tongue gliding along the base of his cock.

“Oh fuck.” He moans. You finally take him in your mouth and he’s whining.

“So warm.” He rests on his elbows, not wanting to miss even a second of this.

You stare up at him and you feel his cock twitch, making your lips twitch upwards. You set a steady pace and jerk whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Yes—yes.” He chants, shaking as he lifts a hand to move hair out of your face. You remove your hand and take the rest of him, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

“I’m cumming!” He yells, his legs shaking as his load shoots down your throat.

He’s moaning and panting as his high rushes over. You pull off with a pop but your hand keeps jerking him.

“N-No, s’to much.” He whimpers, too weak to stop you.

“You don’t want anyone to know right?” He shakes his head, not fully understanding what you said.

“Then take it and shut up.” You say and he whines.

You’re sucking his tip and he’s only letting out whimpers at this point. His eyes water, his balls tightening again.

“I’m gonna fucking cum.” He sobs, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Your hand squeeze his balls and his mouth falls open but no noise comes out. You swallow all he gives you, even though it’s less this time. His white hair sticks to his forehead as he takes big gulps of air.

You pepper kisses on his thighs, making him jump when you suck a mark. You pull his boxers back up and he’s still in the same position. His mind fucked because of the mind blowing orgasm you just gave him. You wipe his lash line for any stray tears and he stares at you fondly.

“That was, amazing.” He huffs out and you laugh.

“Whatever I’ll see you later.” You peck his cheek and he flys up.

“You’re leaving?” He stares at you, you hate how he looks at you with doe eyes. Your stomach fluttering at the sight. He’s like a puppy.

“Um yea? It’s late.”

He looks down.

“Right. Will I see you again?” He peers up at you with hope pooling in his eyes. You narrow your eyes but smile.

“Maybe.” You say leaving his room, leaving him to dwell on what just happened.

For the rest of the week you don’t stop by but Satoru can’t keep you off his mind. He sees you around campus but all you do is send him a flirty look and smile as you walk away with your friends. He wants to talk to you but he’s not sure if you’d like that.

Would you be mad if he tried to go up and talk to you?

Did you only want things to be a secret?

What if you stopped seeing him?

Wait.

He was only doing this so you wouldn’t tell anyone his secret. At least that’s what he’d tell himself.

The next time you come over is a night when there’s supposed to be a party. He’s getting ready to leave but when he opens the door you’re there, Satoru and Suguru’s eyes widening.

“Y/n? What’re you doing here?” He blinks, his cheeks growing red.

Suguru looks amused and with a laugh he’s out the door.

“Hey, wait!” He goes to follow him but you catch his arm.

“You’re not going.” You say calmly and he’s confused.

“Huh? Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to?” You say and you pull him into his apartment.

“Why do you wanna go? So you can make out with some random bitch? Or what, get your dick sucked?” You raise a brow and he pouts.

“Well, I didn’t know you were coming…I thought you ghosted me!” He points a finger at you and you laugh.

“Ghost you?” You look amused.

“Well, yes. You don’t talk to me or anything so.” You tilt your head.

“I won’t taint your reputation? It won’t be weird if you’re seen talking to me?” You grin and he’s puzzled.

“No…? Why does that matter?” His words make you freeze but you don’t let them affect you that much.

Hopefully he didn’t catch what he said because that basically contradicts this whole situation.

“Whatever, come on.” You drag him to his room but he stops you.

“Wait!” You face him and he glances away shyly.

“What?” You look at him skeptically.

“I…wanna make you feel good.” He says.

“I obviously don’t know how but I wanna try.” He looks at you and you bite your lip.

“Yea? You wanna make me feel good?” You smirk, stepping closer to him. You grab his hand.

“Where? Here?” You place his hand on your clothed cunt and he gulps. His adams apple bobbing.

“Y-Yea, there.”

“Mk, show me what you got.” You smile and he does too, eager to please you. He’s a little to happy when you lay down on his bed.

“Someone’s excited.” He pauses, blinking.

You roll your eyes.

“It’s cute.” He blushes and doesn’t say anything letting his lips connect with yours.

He doesn’t spend much time on your lips and leads kisses down your neck, making your breath hitch. He’s giddy, wanting to pull more noises out of you. His hands slip under your shirt, slowly sliding them up and grabbing your breasts.

“Pervert.” You gasp and he smiles.

“Can I take it off?” You nod and he helps you, throwing it behind him.

He scatters pecks all over your breasts, pushing your bra down and you unclasp it. He licks his lips before he takes your nipple in his mouth sucking and licking at it aggressively. Your hands tangle in his hair and he groans against your nipple, moving to your other one.

After teasing them he’s moving down until he reaches your pants. He looks up waiting for your approval and you nod. He unbuttons them and lets you slide them off. He’s met with your white panties, a bow right in the middle. But he stops and looks at you again.

“What’s wrong?” You ask and he gulps.

“C-Can you sit on my face.” He bites his lip. You blush to but try to hide it with your smile.

“You’re a freak you know that?” But you tug him up on his bed. He stares up at you as you remove your panties. His arms wrap around your thighs and placing a kiss right on your slit.

Only then do you realize he’s mirroring your actions from when you gave him head and you smile. His eyes lock on to your pussy and you’re glistening and fuck he’s so hard. He lays his tongue flat against your cunt and you whine.

Then hell breaks loose.

He pulls you down and slurps you up like a mad man. His head moving side to side for more friction.

“Fuck, just like that ‘Toru.” You moan and he groans at the nickname.

He sucks on your clit and you tug at his hair, making him eat you faster. He inserts his tongue finger inside your gaping hole, loving the way it sucks him in. You gasp and he’s fucking you with his tongue.

“Oh my god.” You whine, pulling at his hair and grinding down on his face. He groans and the vibrations only stimulate you more.

“Gonna cum, keep going.” You pant, riding his face faster as he smothers his mouth with your pussy.

He pulls out his tongue and sucks your clit sending you off the edge. You whine loudly as you ride his face, holding his headboard for stability. Satoru slurps up everything you give him, kissing your thighs when you come down from your high.

You slide off of him, right on to his hard cock. He sits up, wiping his mouth.

“Did I do good?” He asks, massaging your thighs.

You hum, your head a little clouded as you rest your face on his shoulder. His stomach is doing back flips at your acknowledgment.

“You can sleep here if you want. You look tired.” He mumbles in your ear and you agree.

He places you on his bed gently as he gets up to find your panties. Once he gets them he stares at them.

“Uh, do you want boxers, they’re soaked.” You pout, as a blush rises to your cheeks.

“Depends, do they have skid marks.” His mouth drops in disgust.

“Ew!” He looks mortified and you laugh.

“I’ll take some you idiot.”

He grumbles as he goes and fetches some from his drawer. He slides them on you and plops down next to you. You both are laid on your back and he’s nervous. Tapping his fingers against his chest.

“Stop fidgeting.” You turn towards him and he stops.

He steals a glance at you but your eyes are closed, soft snores leaving you. He smiles softly, lights pushing hair behind your ear. He’s turns to you now, placing his chin on top of your head.

Your eyes blink open to a white fluff of hair, making you groan. You swipe it out of your face and look around you. Satoru’s arms are wrapped around you, hugging you close to him.

He’s sound asleep, his long white lashes resting on the apple of his cheeks. He really was handsome, ethereal even and that has you wondering on what the fuck you were doing.

You claimed to hate this man, but here you are in his arms and in his bed.

You never thought of yourself as a good person but not a bad one either, just mediocre. It didn’t really matter though, why should you care about his feelings. He only cares about his reputation plus he’s probably over the moon to have a girl he can fuck around with.

You’re using him and he’s using you too. You know after all this he’ll just show what he learned to whatever girl that falls at his feet. And actually, finally, live up to his stupid reputation.

You sigh and detach yourself from him. You slip out of his boxers and put your panties on along with your pants. You slip on your shoes and give him one last look before you’re tiptoeing to the front door.

“Had fun?” You freeze, you didn’t notice Suguru standing against the kitchen counter with a mug in his hands.

“There’s coffee if you want some.” He nods his head and you eye him, looking at the door again.

“I’m good.” You say reaching for the door knob.

“He likes you y’know, has for a while now.”

Your stomach churns.

What?

You turn to him but he’s already looking at you. He laughs at your face, shaking his head.

“That’s the only reason why he’s nervous, letting you do things with him, he doesn’t care for the reputation, he’s using it as an excuse to be with you.” Suguru looks you dead in the eye.

Well, that kinda makes sense for how he acted.

“So if you don’t like him let him down easy yea?” Suguru smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. You nod and finally open the door and leave.

What the fuck were you gonna do now.

You avoided Satoru like a plague, you didn’t look at him like you used to and you didn’t show up anymore.

Did he do something wrong?

Was it too far to have you sleepover?

Were you finally tired of him?

Satoru was sad and it hurt Suguru to see him like this. He didn’t even wanna go to parties anymore so Suguru takes it in his own hands talk to you. So when you’re walking with your friend, he appears in front of you.

“We gotta talk.” He doesn’t even let you say no because he’s pulling you away.

“Let go!” You rip your hand away from him and he stares at you angrily.

“What the fuck are you doing avoiding Satoru.”

Shit.

“I told you how he felt so you wouldn’t hurt him and you’re hurting him.”

You scoff.

“Oh please. He’ll find someone else soon enough.”

“Fuck off, that’s a lie and you know that.” He spits back.

You are.

You were too guilty to face Satoru. What were you gonna say.

‘Hey I know you like me but I was just using you for my selfish desires!’

That was only partly true. Because despite the ‘sex’ you’d catch yourself staring longer than you should’ve been, admiring his stupid face and loving his flushed cheeks.

“How does he even like me! We never talked once!” You throw your hands up.

“How should I know? He just came back to the apartment one day and wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

Your brows furrow as you glance at the ground.

“I don’t think I’m good for him, my intentions weren’t good. So how do you expect me to face him.” You mumble.

“Then tell him that. Stop being a bitch and avoiding him, we’re not kids. You’re a fucking adult so communicate your feelings.” Your eyes snap up to him.

“That’s rich coming from you. He hasn’t even told me how he felt!”

Suguru sighs, rubbing at his eyes.

“Gosh you women are so fucking complicated. Just talk to him.”

Is the last thing he says before he leaves. You chew at your lip and sigh. He was right, you did need to talk to him.

The next day, you knock on his door. When he opens it his eyes widen.

“Y/n?” His eyes are full again, bright and shining.

“Can we talk.” You mutter and he nods, letting you in.

“Look I’m sorry if last time was to far, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He rambles and you sigh.

“Satoru, you didn’t do anything.” You say but he cuts you off.

“Toru.” He says.

“What?”

“You called me Toru last time. So it’s Toru.”

You sigh.

“Satoru—”

His eyes are pleading.

“Toru… I know you like me. And I feel like shit because, well I didn’t know and I was just doing stuff with you because it got me riled up. I guess. So I avoided you.” You glance at the floor and he’s quiet. You look up at him and he has a small smile.

“I got you riled up?”

Your dumbfounded.

“This is serious. I was just using you. I-I’m sorry.”

He takes a step closer to you.

“You don’t…feel anything for me? Like besides the sex? Or whatever we were doing.” He gazes down at you.

“I’m gonna be honest. I used to not like you. I thought you were just some selfish popular prick but turns out I was just the selfish prick.” You grumble.

“But what about now. What do you think of me now.” He pushes and you flush up.

“Well you’re stupidly pretty. And funny. I like how timid you are around me, it makes me feel good. But that’s just me being a selfish. You’re kind though. Despite me treating you like shit. You’re still patient.”

He smiles.

“I forgive you.” He says and you look up at him.

“W-What? No. You should hate me.” You shake your head and he pouts.

“Why?”

“Because I treated you bad Toru.”

“Well, I lied to you. I said I cared about my reputation but that wasn’t true.”

“That isn’t merely as bad as what I did.” You deadpan.

“But I still like you.”

“Why?” You couldn’t understand.

“Because you’re stupidly pretty. You’re funny to and I love your smile and laugh. I like when you praise me but that might just be because I have a big fat crush on you.” He laughs and you smile at him copying you.

“I-I like you a lot and as bad as it is. I was too much of a pussy to tell you how I felt so I let you use me.”

You pout.

“We’re stupid.” You laugh and he smiles.

“Yea. We are.”

It’s silent but in no way awkward.

“Y/n?”

You glance up at him.

“Yea?”

“Can you take my virginity.” His eyes are lidded and your jaw drops.

“W-What? Toru no. I don’t know if—”

He stops you with his hands resting on your waist.

“Please. I wanna lose it to you.” He pleads, moving some hair behind your ear.

You chew at your lip, glancing around his apartment.

“Are—you sure.” You gaze up at him and he rests his forehead on yours.

“I’m reallyyy sure.” He smiles and you smile too. He peck your lips and leads you to his room.

He doesn’t seem nervous like all the other times but happy. He’s smiley when he kisses you and playful with his hands.

It doesn’t take long for you both to be bare and he’s showering you with kisses. You’re on top of him at the moment but he flips you over, his arms resting beside your head.

“You’re gonna have to coach me through this.” He laughs and you smile.

“Well I thought I was gonna do the work.” You snort and he shakes his head.

“I wanna make you feel good. Making you feel good makes me feel good.” He smiles and you peck his cheek.

“Well I mean there’s not much to it. You just put it in and fuck me.” You shrug and he narrows his eyes.

“Hm. Okay then. There’s no tips and tricks?” He purses his lips and you grin.

“That’s for you to find out.” He laughs, pumping himself, his smile fades and his face morphs into worry.

“Do you have a condom?” You blink.

“Uh, no? I didn’t really think this was how my night was gonna go.” He bites his lip, rubbing your hips.

“Maybe Suguru has some.” He ponders.

“I’m on the pill.” You mutter and he gazes at you.

“So I can like, cum inside you?”

“Well I mean it’s safer if you don’t but considering you’re a virgin I don’t think your pull out game will be strong.”

“Is that a challenge?” He grins and you laugh at his stupidity.

“No, Toru it’s a fact.” He still takes it as a challenge though. So when he goes back to jerking himself a bit, he rubs his member along your slick. He’s already moaning.

“Feels good.” He stutters, his tip teasing your hole.

“Put it in Toru.” You whine and he licks his lips, pushing his length inside you.

“So impatient—Oh fuck.” He groans, his hands gripping your thighs harshly. You moan at his size and he’s breathless.

“So warm—ngh—and tight.” He whimpers. He was gonna blow his fucking load if he didn’t calm himself down. He pulls back and gives an experimental thrust.

The both of you moaning.

“Shit, pussy so good.” He whispers. You wrap your legs around his waist.

“Move, Toru.”

So he does. With his hands moving to your hips he gives you no time as he’s fucking into you hard and fast.

“Mm, you feel so fucking good.” He’s biting his lip so hard, it’s a wonder how it’s not bleeding.

He’s so long and veiny you feel him so deep with every thrust. His tip continuously kissing your cervix.

“Fuck! Slow down!” You yelp, his hips snapping against yours.

“Can’t! It’s to good, to good.” He moans so prettily.

He’s getting desperate and pussy drunk. Without missing a beat he leans down to press messy kisses on your neck. He sucks bruises on them and some on your breasts.

“Toru.” You whine and he’s man handling you at this point.

Using the mattress as leverage to fuck you faster. You don’t know how he’s moving so fast and rolling his hips so good but you’re gripping his sheets, dragging your nails on his back. He groans at this, his hair sticking to his forehead.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck I’m gonna cum.” He repeats. His mind is already lost, the only thing he can think of is how fucking tight and warm you are.

“Cum with me baby please.” He whines in your ear, moving a hand down to flick your clit at a rapid speed. Your moans ring out through his ears, the way you writhe under him drives him fucking crazy.

“Fuck, you’re getting tighter.” He gasps, his legs shaking. He feels your walls flutter around him, your guys orgasm crashing down on the both of you.

“Cumming!” He throws his head back, his eyes rolling as he fucks his seed deep in you. You’re both gasping as you try to calm down. But with a squeeze of your cunt, he’s rutting into you again.

“Fuck! S-Satoru wait!” You moan, trying to get his hips from abusing your poor cunny.

“M’sorry, s’good.” He’s slurring, he’s fucked out and addicted. Nothing but guttural moans leave his mouth. Breathless whines of your name as tears well up in his eyes.

“S’tight.” He babbles, his tears falling onto your cheeks.

You’re both moaning so loud as he pushes your knees to your chest. The new position has you screaming as the coil in your belly snaps again. Satoru lets out a sob, his cock reaching deeper inside you with this new angle.

He doesn’t say anything when he finishes inside you again. His orgasm rakes through his whole body as he hunches over you. Pathetic moans leave his mouth as he holds you close to him, emptying all of him inside you.

He hiccups as he falls on top of you. His forehead resting on your shoulder as you both catch your breath.

He leans up and kisses you. His tongue connecting with yours. He moans in your mouth, pulling out of you and letting both of your juices spill out of you.

A string of saliva connects both your mouths when he pulls away. He rolls off of you, the both of your guys minds still fuzzy.

“I’m gonna use the restroom.” You mumble, your mind not quite all there. He looks at you in a daze.

“Let me help you. I have to clean you don’t I?” He holds your hand and you smile.

“Yea, that would feel better.” You huff out a laugh and he slides off the bed. His legs a little shaky. He grabs a random shirt, cautiously wiping you down.

“Here.” He places a shirt on you, his scent engulfing you. He throws on his boxers and picks you up.

“H-Hey!” You yelp your arms shooting around his neck. He smiles down at you, opening his door.

When he’s on his way to the bathroom, Suguru walks in the through the front door. All of you freezing, caught like a deer in headlights. Suguru blinks and you shove your face in Satrou’s chest.

“I’m guessing you guys did more than talk?” Suguru laughs.

“Mhm!” Satoru nods his head and your cheeks warm.

“Toru.” You whisper and he perks up.

“Shit. Sorry.” He waddles to the bathroom. He places you down and quickly leaves to let you do your thing.

“Let me know if you need help.” He says and you shake your head with a laugh. Satoru turns around and narrows his eyes.

“You! Go in your room or something.” He shoos at Suguru and they both glare at each other.

“This is my apartment too!” He whisper yells back.

“I can hear you guys.” You say from behind the door and they both straighten up.

Suguru glares at Satoru again before he goes in his room. You open the door and Satoru smiles. He grabs your hand and walks you back into his room.

“I’d offer to shower with you but I think I’d probably fuck you again.” He laughs and you playfully roll your eyes.

He pulls back his sheets and opens his arms for you to join him. You slide under with him and he’s pulling you flush against him. Your hands tangle in his hair as he shoves his face in the crook of your neck.

“How’s it feel to not be a virgin anymore.” You grin and he bites your neck.

“Ow!” You pout and he smiles against your skin.

“Amazing. I’d say let’s go for another round.” You whine at his words.

“I think I’d pass out.” You both laugh.

“We did this completely backwards.” He mumbles against your skin.

“I wanted to take you out on a nice cute date and see you dressed up all pretty as we shared our first kiss.” You laugh at his words.

“You had it all planned out hm?” He smiles, nodding.

“Of course. But I’ll take you out tomorrow and still kiss you and then ask you to be mine.” He sighs.

“You’re cute.” You smile, pecking his head.

“Would you say yes?”

He asks and you let out a long hum. He pinches your waist and you laugh. His smile growing wider at the sound.

“Of course I would you dummy.” Your hand glides along his soft hair.

“Good because I’d probably get on my knees and beg.”

“Oh?” You say seductively and he laughs.

“And you say I’m the pervert.”

You guys talk for hours in each other’s arms. Turns out Satoru had two secrets. But none of it mattered now.

He wasn’t a virgin anymore. And he was finally dating the girl he had a big fat crush on.

© yuuuhiii 24 : don’t plagiarize, translate, or post my work on other platforms

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (Dilf!Simon, your next door neighbor, reader’s around early 20s, Simon’s around late 30s~early 40s)

Just retired and move into a new flat, Simon doesn’t expect someone to knock on his door when he’s unpacking his belongings. With slight annoyance, he opens the door and try to dismiss whoever is out there.

His annoyance vanishes quickly when he lays eyes on you, young, gorgeous, gazing up at him with a baggy shirts barely cover the sweat-shorts. The simple apron on the outside looks incredible on you, the fabric of it rises and taut around your chest. Greeting him with a grin and hand him a plate of biscuits. A welcome gift for the new neighbor, you explain to him before leaving with a wave, hips swaying tantalizingly as you saunter back to your flat and close the door behind you.

He becomes closer to you each day, helping you without a word when one day he hears noises from the staircase outside, swings open the door of his flat and discovers you struggling with the heavy groceries bags. When you sheepishly knock on his door again, holding a screwdriver and fidgeting it, telling him you have some issues with assembling the new bookshelf you bought, he already starts his steps and walks into your flat, finish the work in minutes while you circling around cutely and trying to help like a desperate puppy.

To express your thankfulness to him, you invite him to have dinner with you, become a habit of yours when he shoots you a glance with a ‘Not bad.” but devours your home cooked meal like a man starved for days.

Sweet, beautiful girl, a year before graduating from college, expressing your insecurity about your future when he hinted that you can share your worries with him—a person who has much more experience than you— a while ago, he provides some insight and rational advice, swallowing back the words he’s been thought about for months now: Slide the silver ring on your ring finger with his name name engraved on it, makes you his missus and away from all shites the society is boiling everyday. A man alone for years and has low material desires, he has the money to take care of and spoil you without any hesitation.

He’s been fisting his cock whenever he hears your moans coming from the other aide of the wall. Hell, you don’t know how shitty and thin the walls are, the soundproof ability of them is imperceptible when it comes to louder sounds. Simon listens closely to the sounds, closing his eyes, head leans back on the armchair, trying to imagine how you must be right now. Hands in sync of the squelchy sounds of you pumping your fingers in and out of that soaked pussy. His cock’s so huge, even his own palms are just big enough wrapped around the girth, and an obscene growl left his lips as your whimpers and moans turn higher and sultrier, definitely look like a goddess when you’re weeping tears, stuffing your cunny full and craving for the release. But when you finally tumble over the edge, he snaps his eyes open and groans the second his name comes out of your mouth with such honeyed tone, crying his name in need and suppressed desire.

Simon jumps up from the armchair, heavy cock forming an obvious tent when he shoves open his door and knocks on yours impatiently. “Wait-Wait me a second…!” your voice hits his ears with trembles that can’t be left unnoticed.

“ 'S what you want, love? getting bent over by a man older than you and fucked stupid? Is that so, princess?” He squeezes himself through the crack of your door, kicking it close and pinning your upper body on the shoe cabinet beside the door, your legs dangling in the air as he drives the fat tip into your entrance ferociously, tight cunt still spasming from your orgasm and makes him grunts out a curse, “Fucking screaming my name when you touch yourself, hmm? you know you can come to me anytime you need something, like I told you before.”

He gets you cry out in pleasure without any concern of receiving complaints from other neighbors, wrapping your legs back and standing between your wide-spread thighs, leaning his weight on your back while his hips rocks unrelentingly. “No more, no more…Simon!” You clenching down on his shaft so nice and hot, milking him loads after loads, the angry tip of his cock abusing every spots inside you, and your legs are shaking uncontrollably when he finally comes one last time, satiated both your needs for now, and you the last thing you feel before succumbing to slumber is a gentle kiss pressing on your twitching, overstimulated clit as his seeds flood out of your swollen pussy.

The relationship between you and him deepens since that night,and he doesn’t stop you or protest when you wear the low-cut top and cute skirt, semi-transparent thigh high stockings keeps attracting his attention to stare at the bare skin of your thighs between them and the skirt, and wave goodbye at him with an apologetic expression before heading off to a party with your college friends. He knows the importance of these social activities between youngsters, so he didn’t get mad or upset, just kiss your temple, reminded you to stay safe and call him whenever you need, then he’d be there in no time.

You sure will turn heads wherever you go tonight, and though there might be some troublesome wankers trying their luck on you, but he knows you won’t even spare them anything beside a polite nod of rejection. You’re all his, you won’t feel the same bliss and love from those young blokes of your age. No one can make you feel as good as he does, they can’t make you squirt all over the floor when he eats you out at the countertop, no one knows how to lower and disperse all your concerns and thoughts like him, with his tongue lapping your perked buds and that long cock massaging your cervix, coaxing countless orgasms out of you before you fall asleep in his embrace contently.

So when you ring him just about 2 hours later, asking if he can come pick you up at the club, he immediately hops in to his truck, pulls up at the location you texted him. He doubts how your breasts haven’t spilled out your low cut tops, but he’s definitely enjoying the view, your cheeks burning from the alcohol, pawing at his shirt and whining about how you missed him, how boring the party was and you just wanted to go home and bounce on his dick through your tipsy state.

Good that Simon parked his truck at a secluded spot, so you don’t need to wait any longer, let him bend you over the hood and kneel down behind you, tongue shoving deep inside, occasionally pulls out and prodding at your pussy to calm you down from keep pleading him to just fuck you already and rubbing his bulge when he just wants to drive you home first. “Will give you the cock you’ve been thinking all night when we’re home, sweetheart.” He speaks against your slick pussy lips before diving back to lick every drop of your sugary juices again.

[cinematicreid]

for a moment

the one where Spencer reminds reader to slow down.

wc 651

warnings + the rundown: bau!reader, fluff, soft!spencer, i love him, literally can’t live without him, what a sweetheart, mentions of reader getting shot, but nothing explicit, feelings!, yikes!

a/n: can’t beat short and sweet and cutesy. feedback always welcome, come say hi to me i think you’re all so cool!

~

Spencer’s eyes may as well have laser beams shooting out of them with the way his gaze is glued to you. You attempt to focus on the task at hand, securing the Kevlar vest to the upper half of your body and completely ignoring him. But this has been happening for almost two months, ever since your incident, and you can’t take it anymore.

“Give it a rest, Spencer, you’re driving me crazy.”

“I know! I’m sorry, just — will you please let me —”

You let out a huff of exasperation, giving up.

“For fuck’s sake,” you mumble, and then more loudly, “Fine.”

Your hands fall to your sides in surrender as he quickly moves toward you and reaches for the vest’s fasteners.

A child. He’s making you feel like a child.

You hear Morgan chuckle from the other end of the police precinct’s tiny conference room, as if he can read your thoughts. You’re about to shoot him a death glare when you’re interrupted by Spencer sharply tugging a strap too tight.

“Reid,” you hiss.

“Don’t start,” he interjects over your complaint.

The incident in question was, of course, an accident. It wasn’t like you had intentionally put your vest on in a rush. There just hadn’t been enough time (which was not a proper excuse, as Hotch had gently but firmly reminded you later), and the loosened straps meant the vest moved around more than it should have when you were running, and the UnSub’s bullet found your side all too easy to graze.

It was stupid, really, but it was one time and nearly two months ago.

None of this was enough to ease the seemingly permanent furrow in Spencer’s brow.

It started as small, albeit irritating, reminders to double-check your vest, which you initially laughed off. But it had now escalated to taking the task entirely off your hands.

Spencer finishes with a final tug.

“Happy?” you ask him flatly. He lifts his concentrated gaze to meet your annoyed one.

“I could do without the sass. But yes,” he says, his shoulders visibly lighter and more content.

“It’s like watching a dad get his daughter ready for Take Your Kid To Work Day,” Morgan teases, rushing out of the room before you can hit him with the closest object at your disposal and leaving just you and Spencer. He rolls his eyes at the poor joke and gently takes said object from your hand.

“I don’t think a pen is going to do much damage,” he says. He loosens a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

You regard him for a few seconds, a small part of you melting at the undeniable softness in his eyes, which are so vast and deep you could stay there forever.

You get it.

It’s the thing about this job. How it forces an eternity to become temporary. How, in 20 minutes, you’ll be hunting down the bad guy but for now, what can feel like forever if you wanted, you’re only here with Spencer.

It’s all fleeting. Your little “incident” had only served as a reminder of that.

And so, Spencer had to take care of you in this way. You both knew that.

“You don’t need to be,” you offer him. He avoids your gaze and you nudge his shoulder with your hand. “Spencer, I’m here, yeah?” That earns you a gentle nudge back and the hint of a smile.

“I know. I’m here, too.”

And here is everywhere and nowhere and, perhaps most importantly, together. A beat, or maybe a forever passes before he speaks again.

“If this were Take Your Kid To Work Day I’d be the worst father in the world.”

Just like that, he’s back and you’re back with him.

Fleeting.

“I am so getting him back for that,” you mumble, making your way to the door. Spencer’s laugh as he follows behind you is all you can hear.

[piichuu]

AFTER LAUGHTER (COMES TEARS) - GOJO SATORU

WARNINGS: hurt to comfort, gn!reader

WORD COUNT: 906

you’re laying on the couch when your boyfriend arrives back home from a long day at work. he was called in early in the morning to exorcise curses before it was time to switch roles into a teacher and help his students at jujutsu high. now it’s late into the evening, and he has most likely not gotten the time to rest at all today.

“i’m home!” he says cheerfully, walking into the living room as you get up from the couch to greet him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “how was your day?” you ask, pulling away a little to look at his face, brushing your fingers through his white messy hair.

he looks at you with a smile on his face, one that you see every single day, almost every single time you look at him. “it was good, yuji is finally getting the hang of it and it’s the same old with the others,” gojo explains as you scan his face, slowly but surely noticing the dark bags under his glassy eyes.

“are you okay? you must be tired, you’ve been working all day,” you lower your voice slightly, trying to sound as soft as possible, hoping he won’t lie about his feelings like he almost always does.

that seems to be his breaking point, his smile quickly faltering and his lower lip starting to quiver while tears begin to form in his eyes. his hands that were resting on your waist are starting to shake and it almost seems like he is about to faint.

sobs fill the room as you once again put your arms around him, pulling him in for a hug. he’s holding onto you as tightly as he can, nuzzling his face into your neck, his tears falling onto your shirt. he’s hanging onto you as if his life depended on it, like he’s afraid to let go.

you sit down on the couch with him, rubbing gojo’s back in an attempt to comfort him. “i’m sorry, i-i’m sorry,” gojo sobs. “i don’t want to be weak, i’m sorry-“

his own tears interrupt him as he sniffles, trying to look away when you cup his face in your palms. “don’t say sorry, satoru. it’s okay to cry,” you say, tears forming in your own eyes at the sight of your boyfriend feeling like this. “you don’t have to hide just because you’re letting your feelings out.”

you rub his cheeks with your thumbs, allowing him to take his time, watching as the sobs slowly die down and he tries to wipe his tears away. “did something bad happen today?” you ask but gojo shakes his head, sighing.

“no, nothing happened. it’s just-i’m so tired. these stupid fucking higher ups keep putting me on all missions they can and then i have to be a teacher to the kids. i love them, they’re amazing, but i keep getting reminded of the old days every single time i see them,” he admits, looking down at his lap while speaking.

“i’m tired of being the strongest, i just wish i could be here at home all day and just sleep, eat, cuddle with you, watch movies. i wish i didn’t have to be the strongest all the time, i’m not even the strongest because if i was, suguru would be alive by now, i would’ve been able to help him,” gojo once again tears up at the thought of his friend who is no longer here.

you brush a hand through his hair gently. “don’t ever blame yourself, satoru. it’s not your fault, okay?” you try your best to reassure him, not knowing what to say.

he sighs and reaches for your hands, intertwining them with his own. “i don’t know what to do,” he whispers and you squeeze his hands. “that’s okay, we’ll just take it minute by minute, we don’t have to think about the past or the future right now if that would make it feel easier. we can just be here right now,” you say while leaning your forehead against his.

gojo closes his eyes for a little while and takes a deep breath with you, trying to calm down. “but maybe it’ll feel a little easier if you keep telling me whenever you feel like this, whenever something that disturbs you crosses your mind. it will all feel much worse if you keep trying to smile when you’re not happy. i’m your partner because i’m here no matter what, okay?”

gojo nods and opens his eyes to look into yours. “okay, thank you…i’m sorry for putting all of this on you-“ “don’t say sorry, i want to know what’s going on in your head,” you say, watching as he begins to place soft kisses to the knuckles of your hands.

“okay, i’ll try my best,” he mumbles, eventually letting go of your hands to pull you in for a hug again. “can we just go to sleep now?”

you smile softly and nod, placing a kiss to his cheek. “yeah we can, you don’t want dinner?” you ask and he chuckles lightly. “maybe i’ll eat some dinner first, i do love your cooking after all.”

gojo begins to get up from the couch, taking your hand. “and i do love you, of course,” he speaks before pulling you up from the couch as well, pressing a kiss to your forehead before walking towards the kitchen.

TAG LIST: @shotovhs

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[drewsarms]

i need reader making fun of hick!rafe for being a dumb, uneducated country boy, and bc of that, he fucks her hard in her dad's shed. i imagine his overalls pooling around his ankles, his thick cock pounding into her and putting her in her place as he's whispering things like "you're looking awfully dumb to me right now princess" in his thick north carolina accent 🫠🫠

━━⊱⋆⊰━━

��: I hope you loveee it!!! I feel like I went a little overboard bc hick!rafe 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 inspired by this post!!!!

𐙚: 18+ mdni!!

Since your dad was always so busy with his line of work he never had time to tend to the yard or anything for that matter. He always asked Rafe to do it. Ever since you could remember you always took a liking to Rafe. He was older than you, more experienced, and such a nice sight so see but you’d rather be caught dead than to be with a hick.

You sat on one of the folded chairs in your dad’s shed watching Rafe work on one of your dad’s cars. Seeing him all sweaty and focused made your pussy throb. He was so so muscular and hairy in just the right places. You concentrated on his face. The way his brows arched, to the way his mustache covered his top lip so perfectly. You could only imagine how it would feel between your thighs and rubbing against your clit. Your eyes trailed down to his chest and stomach. It was covered by his stupid overalls. The way his body glistened under them with sweat made him look even more sexy. You watched as his muscles flexed every time he tightened or loosened something, making you squeeze your legs together. You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Rafe chuckle. “Whatcha staring at sugar?” You look down at the ground trying to hide your embarrassment. He starts working back on the car a string of curses coming out of his mouth. “I tell you what. I don’t know what your dad did to his car. I can’t figure this shit out for the life of me.” He steps back looking at the hood while taking a sip of his beer. “I don’t know why my dad gets you to do stuff.” You say rolling your eyes. He looks over at you, setting his beer down. “What do you mean?” You hadn’t realized what you said until after the fact. All you knew was that you were in deep shit. But you meant every. single. word. “I dont know why my dad gets you to help around. You’re nothing but a dumb, uneducated hick. Any other person or mechanic would have been done in at least an hour but you’ve been here for almost 4.” You could see Rafe’s face change. His jaw clenched. He grabs a rag wiping off his oiled coated hands. “I don’t know what your problem is but you better take that back. You know that shit isn’t true. You’re digging yourself an even deeper whole little girl.” You jump up from off the chair and turn to walk out. “I’m just stating the obvious. I mean that is the definition of a hick and you exude that pretty well. Maybe you’re too dumb to know that.”

━━⊱⋆⊰━━

Your legs are spread and your back is leaning against the cool wood. You can’t remember how you got here but you know you liked it. Rafe is pounding into you so hard that he’s knocking things off the walls and off the shelves. Those blue overalls now pooling around his ankles. He leans down to your ear. Kissing and licking at it. “What was all that shit you were saying hun,” he whispers in your ear. You can barely keep your eyes open. He slaps your cheek making you jump and look at him. His oiled hands grab at your chin harshly, making a tear fall from your eyes. He raises an eyebrow like he’s waiting for you to say something. “You gonna repeat it angel?” You try to speak but your whole body feels so fuzzy that all that’s coming out of mouth is sweet whines, whimpers, and ah, ah, ahs. He runs his thumb against your bottom lip making you open your mouth. He spits on your face, purposely missing your mouth. You whine as he rubs it into your skin. “I thought I was nothing but a dumb hick.” He chuckles looking at how fucked out you were. His cock sliding in and out of your pussy repeatedly, stretching you out, and hitting your g spot was sending you over the edge. The squelches from your sweet cunt only made him fuck you harder. “You’re looking awfully dumb to me right now princess.”

(Yeah he has that dick that makes you go absolutely stupid)

[ninzied]

sunshine

a childhood enemies to lovers au. 500 word drabble for @hgejfmw-hgejhsf.

“I don’t know, Bug.”

He’s exhausted as hell from the flight home after a grueling finals week. He doesn’t want to make small talk with people he grew up with only to spend the last four years seeing how much they grew apart. It’s pretty much the worst thing he can think of right—

June says, too-casually, “Henry will be there.”

Scratch that. It just got even worse.

Obviously Alex has to go, now.

He hasn’t seen Henry since halfway through middle school, when the Fox family moved out of state. Mister fancy-pants “Oh, I’m on the cul-de-sac” Henry, who always had the cooler bikes, and out-sold Alex at every Girl Scout thing they went to with their sisters. Henry, who was good at everything and got along with everyone. Everyone, that is, except for Alex.

Henry, who’d stayed friends with Pez down the street, is exactly how Alex remembered but worse. He’s too fucking tall. His shoulders are so broad they’re borderline ridiculous. He—

“Alex.”

Fuck. His voice got even deeper. Fuck. Alex scowls.

“Charming as ever,” Henry remarks. At a pointed glance from Pez, he clears his throat, then adds, “Taller, though. Unless we’re speaking relatively, in which case—”

Is this guy for fucking real?

Alex opens his mouth.

“Henry’s the same, though, right, baby brother?” June butts in. “Remember that camp photo? The one where you said he looked like sunshine?”

“Can you not?” Alex objects. “Like he thinks the sun shines out of his ass, is what I said.”

“No,” says June, “I don’t think that was it.” She turns to Henry. “Pretty sure he kept it, by the way.”

“June,” hisses Alex. “How do you even know about that?”

Henry’s blushing. The stupid sun is in his hair again and he looks so unfairly fucking pretty that Alex wants to— wait. What?

Oh. Alex kind of forgets to breathe for a moment. Oh.

“Right, we’ll leave you to it,” says Pez. He takes June by the arm.

Henry shifts. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I was always too panicked by your evident dislike of me to not act like a total knob when you were around. Suppose that hasn’t changed either.”

Alex swallows. “I never disliked you. I just. Always figured you thought you were too good to hang out with me.”

“My gran did think that,” Henry admits, looking sad. “She was very strict.”

Alex remembers the general shape of her, a grim shadow in the curtain whenever he rode his bike too-close to their cul-de-sac. “Was?”

“She doesn’t get a say anymore.” Henry looks at him. “Does that, erm. Mean you wanted to? Hang out?”

“Did you?” Alex counters.

If Henry had pigtails, Alex could’ve pulled those and not been more fucking obvious.

“Yes,” says Henry, simply. “Perhaps we could start now? Make up for lost time?”

“For the record,” says Alex, “I really, really didn’t dislike you.”

Henry’s flush deepens. He’s smiling. Fuck. “For the record,” he says, “I kept that photo, too.”

[thepixelelf]

superhero cheol x tech whiz reader warnings: coarse language. food. wc: 1.0k

[anonymous nights] As Seungcheol ducked behind the world’s most disgusting, foul-smelling, gag-inducing dumpster, he thought this was perhaps — no, definitely — the worst idea you’d ever had. His full-head mask was starting to itch, and he felt stupid in his suit sneaking through alleys and hiding behind trash cans.

“Remind me again why I’m following this random ass dude instead of Seo Jewon? What happened to catching the city’s ‘fourth most dangerous villain’?”

A bit of static tickled Seungcheol’s ear through the communication device implanted in his suit, which he knew meant you were getting further and further away the more he pursued the target. He had no idea where you parked your small van, aside from knowing it was somewhere in the city — a precaution put in place so Seungcheol would never be able to give away your location. Or, more accurately, so he wouldn’t risk losing the petabytes of information you’d collected over the years.

“Seo Jewon was a total red herring, this is our real guy,” you said through his earpiece.

The man he was following kept walking, and Seungcheol almost thanked him because he had to get away from whatever was polluting that dumpster. “And you know that because…?”

“Hey, who’s the brains of this operation?” You sounded slightly garbled, but Seungcheol could hear your mouse clicking in the background. “That’s right, me.”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes even though he knew you couldn’t see it.

“I can feel you rolling your eyes, Solar Flare.”

Okay, maybe not.

“How do you always do that?”

He could hear your smile through the device. Maybe it wasn’t so hard. “I told you. Brains.” You tapped your mic twice, and Seungcheol winced at the plosive sound. He was about to complain when you spoke again. “Eyes up, Solar, you’re losing him.”

Glancing around, Seungcheol realized he did, in fact, lose track of the target, and he cursed under his breath. He heard you holding back laughter before you muted yourself. Picking up the pace and getting heavier on his feet, Seungcheol searched for your supposed ‘true villain’. Your silence only spurred him on; he knew you were making fun of him in your head.

You’d been assigned to him about a year ago, a decision made by the higher-ups because Seungcheol was apparently “too much of a handful” with his fiery powers (plus an equally fiery attitude), and you were the prodigious tech newbie they could force into working with him. Little did they know, spending too much time with him made you just as annoying. Hence why you and him were out tonight, chasing a completely new suspect instead of the one the bosses sent you after.

“Check your two o’clock.”

Seungcheol slipped into another alleyway, sticking close to the walls, though a load of good that did. “You know,” he said, a little breathless from his efforts to catch up to the target, “it might be a bit easier for me to tail this guy if I wasn’t dressed like Guy Fieri.”

“Hey, I didn’t design the suit, I just built it.” Your words sounded weird again. “Blame the fashion department, not me.”

“Okay, one, we don’t have a fashion department, and two, are eating cup fucking ramen right now?”

He could hear you slurping noodles up. “What? I can’t have dinner and save the city at the same time?”

“Dinner?! It’s like one in the morning!”

“I'm a busy sidekick.”

“You are not my sidekick.”

You snorted into the mic, an undignified sound you never held back from making when it was just you and Seungcheol. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

“Whatever. Tell me you at least had breakfast.” The line went silent, and Seungcheol cursed again. “You’re a hazard.”

Seungcheol could feel your greasy smile through the comm as you cooed. “I’m your hazard, Solar Flare.”

After working together for almost a year, you still hadn’t called Seungcheol by his name. You said it was “keeping things professional”, but Seungcheol was pretty sure you just liked to tease him. Before you, no one had ever made jokes about his destructive superpowers. In fact, most people stayed away from him as much as possible. Then you came along and started saying he was your personal barbecue grill or space heater, never once afraid of his tendency to catch things on fire.

Seungcheol never told you how much he appreciated that.

“Shut up,” he mumbled.

“You lost him again.”

“God damn it.”

Seungcheol spent the next twenty minutes tailing your suspect through the city with you piping in every few turns, letting him know what he couldn’t see. He was beginning to think this was stupid. Of course this guy wasn’t the culprit, you must have been wrong — it wasn’t like you’d never been wrong before.

But then the guy turned a corner where almost no one ever went. He walked through another totally gross alley and went down some rusted outdoor basement stairs, glancing around. Almost like he didn’t want to be followed. Seungcheol silently pleaded it wasn’t what it looked like. (Though he probably shouldn’t have, considering this meant he was about to catch the bad guy.)

After the man entered the door, Seungcheol walked up to it, peering through the tiny barred window. He couldn’t see anything, so he opened the door just a crack and stepped through as quietly as he could. A dark hallway was all that greeted him, but down it, he could hear angry voices going at each other over something he couldn’t quite make out. Peeking out of the hallway, Seungcheol immediately retracted when he saw everything. A bunch of men and piles and piles of… well he didn’t know exactly what, but it didn’t look good.

“I fucking knew it!” you cheered through his earpiece. You must’ve already taken a picture during the millisecond Seungcheol had poked his head out and scanned it. “Alright, I’m calling backup.”

“What’s our cover story tonight? That I just so happened to stumble across the city’s fourth most dangerous secret lair?”

You clacked away at your keyboard. “No cover story this time. I found this guy fair and square.”

part 2 | part 3

[hanbinics]

!fratboy chris comforts !crybaby reader.

“what did she say?”

you look up at chris from the soft mattress of his unmade bed as the brunette towers over you, arms crossed over his chest. his jaw is tight and his blue eyes are seething as he takes in your teary eyes and downturned corners of your mouth, the soft tremble of your lower lip. part of him wants to storm out of the room and find whoever you’re talking about to put her in her place, but he can’t leave you in the moment—not when you’re like this.

sucking in a shaky breath, you reluctantly prepare yourself to start the story all over again. “she said—” but chris cuts you off with a short, humorless chuckle.

“no, kid, i know what she said, yeah? was bein’ fuckin’ sarcastic,” he explains, shaking his head as his arms unwind from his chest in favor of rubbing at his jaw.

when chris had been unable to find you in the thick of the party going on downstairs, he’d spent the last twenty or so minutes looking for you—only to find you in his bedroom crying your pretty eyes out. at first, he’d thought maybe someone had hurt you. he always keeps a close eye on you at these things, regardless of the party being thrown by his frat brothers. the last thing he expected was to find out that all these tears were caused by another girl.

you’d just finished explaining to chris that you had wandered off to get some water after not being able to get his attention the first two times you had asked. but while you were filling up your glass at the sink, a girl had approached you with curious brown eyes and a smile that made you feel... off.

you probably should have known how the conversation was going to go when she’d asked you if you were chris’s girlfriend. you were so surprised that you kind of stuttered around your answer, quietly insisting that no, you weren’t—and it’s true. the brunette has carefully avoided calling you anything but his, another title never slipping from his mouth. it’s never entirely bothered you until being confronted by this pretty girl talking about how she’d hooked up with him a few months prior—before you even met him—and that when he’d ghosted her, she sort of just figured he had gotten a girlfriend. you’d managed to hold it together the entire time, but after listening to her thank you for the information and that she’d definitely fuck him again, it was nothing short of a miracle that you managed to make it all the way to the top of the stairs before any tears slipped down your cheeks.

you’re so distracted by the replaying conversation that you miss chris’s next question, irritation flashing across his face as he leans down slightly to snap his fingers in front of you.

“hey,” he huffs, waiting until you’re looking up at him to continue, “i asked you what she looks like, kid, y’didn’t hear me?” he’s trying not to snap at you, but the brunette is so fucking annoyed that someone had the audacity to ask you about your relationship with him—everyone knows you’re with him. and that’s all they need to know.

you frown, throwing your hands up dramatically before allowing your shoulders to slump. “i dunno, she was... she was pretty, kay? and she—” before you can finish, chris is gripping your chin roughly, tilting your head up towards him.

“nah, ‘nuff of that shit,” he tells you firmly, shaking his head once. “didn’t fuckin’ ask you if she was pretty—y’know i don’t give a shit about that,” he insists, watching as your frown deepens. “need to know what she looked like so i can go fix the stupid shit she’s got goin’ on in her head, yeah?”

but as chris takes you in, he realizes you’re not entirely listening. your gaze is focused on him but your pretty eyes are shiny with unshed tears, and the plushy flesh of your lower lip is quivering as he holds your chin tightly in his grasp. it’s almost like he can see the insecurity racing through your brain and it causes something to tighten in his chest.

prodding his cheek with his tongue, the brunette lets out a huff before he’s letting go of your chin to bend down to your level, his arms resting on your bare knees. “hey,” he calls out to you, waiting for you to meet his gaze before he continues, “who do i kiss every day?”

he waits for an answer, expecting you to bounce back quickly, but when you blink down at him slowly, his eyes widen the slightest bit. “jesus fuck, kid—you. i kiss you every day, don’t i?” he asks, exasperation leaking into his tone as an embarrassed flush floods your cheeks.

when you nod, he does too, like he’s proud you’re finally getting it. “right. and who sleeps in my bed all the time?” this time, you don’t answer, but the light blush coloring your cheeks is enough of an answer for him.

“and who am i spendin’ all my fuckin’ time with since you’re stuck to me like some shitty glue?” he goes on, a small smirk teasing the corners of his mouth now as he sees the way you start to perk up a little bit, those big shiny tears from earlier no longer threatening to spill over.

“that’s right. so uh, the next time someone come’s talkin’ shit to you, you tell me,” he instructs, glancing over your softening features as something pleasant swells in his chest, “and i’ll answer their stupid fuckin’ question: you’re mine.”

a/n. pls accept some !crybaby reader x !fratboy chris as my apology for not posting in a few days !!

©hanbinics

: ̗̀➛ tag list: @blahbel668

: ̗̀➛ divider by @/kyejiz

[blackenedsnow]

Heyy, if you’re comfortable doing so could I please get some Beetlejuice x fem!reader who’s a single mom? Just pretty much him being soft and comforting letting her know she’s doing a good job etc? Thank you in advance 💕💕💕 can be a proper fic or headcanons I’ll let you decide xx

beyond it

WARNING: References to the stress of single motherhood

PAIRING: Beetlejuice x Single Mother! Reader

NOTE: I absolutely loved writing this!! I hope you enjoy this, and thank you so much for the request 💕💕

SUMMARY: Beetlejuice surprises you by being a source of comfort, helping you see that you’re doing better than you give yourself credit for.

It was late—too late for you to still be up. But as a single mom, you didn’t have the luxury of falling into bed as soon as the day ended. No, there were dishes to clean, laundry to fold, and tomorrow to worry about. And of course, your child had woken up twice already, needing reassurance from a nightmare.

You were running on fumes, slumped on the couch, your face buried in your hands. It felt like all you ever did was work. Just when you thought you could finally close your eyes and sleep, your thoughts picked up again—worrying about what needed to be done tomorrow, whether you were doing enough, whether your child was okay.

“Hey, dollface, rough night?”

This fucking guy.

That voice—raspy, familiar—cut through the fog of exhaustion like nails on a chalkboard. Beetlejuice. You didn’t bother looking up. He was probably lounging in his usual spot, perched on the armrest of your couch with a stupid grin plastered on his face.

"Go away, BJ," you muttered half-heartedly. "Not tonight."

The ghoul groaned dramatically. "Aw, come on! And here I thought we were past the whole 'piss off, Beej' stage of our relationship." You felt a cold presence next to you, then his hand—decaying yet surprisingly gentle—lightly brushed your shoulder. "I mean, after all the times I’ve stuck around, don’t I get any appreciation?"

You exhaled sharply, finally lifting your head. "Appreciation? For what, exactly?"

"For being a goddamn delight, babes!" Beetlejuice beamed, leaning back against the couch and spreading his arms wide. "For hanging around when no one else does. Gotta say, not a lot of folks could handle a single mom with your level of stress."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide the tiny smile tugging at your lips. "If by 'hanging around,' you mean constantly being a nuisance, then yeah, sure."

Beetlejuice chuckled, his voice rough yet oddly soothing. His eyes, usually wild and manic, softened just a bit as they focused on you. “Ah, you love it. Don’t lie, babe.”

You shook your head, sinking deeper into the couch. "I’m just… tired, Beej. I'm really tired."

For once, he didn’t launch into another sarcastic quip. Instead, Beetlejuice shifted closer, his body language relaxed but attentive. “Yeah, I know. I can see it. You’ve been runnin' yourself ragged for, what, weeks? Months?”

Your eyes welled up, but you quickly blinked the tears away. “I just… I feel like I’m not doing enough. There’s always something I’m missing, something I should be doing better.”

Beetlejuice’s hand rested fully on your shoulder now, his touch surprisingly solid. "Oh, come on, you're killing it out here, babe. You think your kid’s got it bad? They've got you. And lemme tell ya, you’re doing a hell of a job. Better than most."

You glanced over at him, surprised by his sincerity. "Really? You think so?"

“Are you kidding? Babe, I see it. I see you juggling work, taking care of the kid, making sure they're happy. And yeah, it’s messy and chaotic, but guess what? They're fine. They're happy, ‘cause you’re busting your ass for 'em.” He leaned in a little closer, his expression for once free of mischief. “You’re doin' more than enough."

His words hit you hard, in a way you hadn’t expected. You didn’t know why, but hearing it from Beetlejuice—someone who you never thought would care about anything—meant something. It eased the tight knot that had been sitting in your chest all day.

“I just don’t want to mess them up,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “They deserve better than… than this.”

"Whoa, whoa, slow down there, sweetheart." Beetlejuice’s voice softened. He slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. “They've got you, and that’s more than enough. You’re not perfect—who the hell is?—but you're trying. And that's what matters. Trust me, when they grow up, they're gonna see that.”

You allowed yourself to lean into him, resting your head against his chest. His suit smelled like a mix of dirt and decay, but there was something oddly comforting about the way he held you, like he was actually trying to be there for you, to support you in his own weird way.

“Hey, tell you what,” he said, his voice low. “Next time you feel like crap, I’ll stick around. We’ll cause some shit together, huh? Might help take the edge off.”

You chuckled softly, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

Beetlejuice grinned, but it wasn’t the mischievous, cocky smirk you were used to. It was softer, almost tender. “You’re doin' good, doll. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—tell you otherwise.”

You looked up at him, and for the first time since he’d shown up in your life, you realized how much you appreciated him. Not just as the obnoxious ghost who wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone, but as someone who—despite his crude humor and questionable ethics—actually cared. Maybe not in the typical way, but in a way that mattered.

"Thanks, Beej," you whispered, closing your eyes as you let the exhaustion finally catch up to you. "I mean it."

Beetlejuice stayed quiet for a moment, just holding you close. "Anytime, babe. Anytime."

[eff4freddie]

After She Left | Ten

Words: 5k

After the dramatic expulsion of Steven and Wren, things settle down a little in Jackson. You've found a way to keep tutoring Ellie that keeps you out of Joel's orbit, and Joel is trying to adapt to his new situation at home. He'll fight hard not to feel things, but he'll always lose when it comes to his girls.

Chapter warnings: Angst, reader gets drunk but isn't out of control, reader is almost as bad at feelings at Joel is, lots of pining coupled with vague attempts to deny anything's wrong

A/N: Coming to the end of the second act now, which means things are going to ramp up again soon. Ya'll wanted emotionally tortured Joel doing penance for being a dick, and you got it!

Nine | Series Masterlist

‘Ok, who can tell me what the capital of America is?’ you asked, nearly saying ‘was’ before you caught yourself. Almost all hands raised in the air.

‘Washington DC,’ Dina answered, confidently. You nodded.

‘Excellent, and why was it named Washington?’

‘It was named after George Washington!’ Mika nearly screamed, because he liked a competition.

‘And who was he?’ you prompted, trying not to laugh at the way he was practically bouncing up and down on his chair.

‘He was the first president!’ Mika yelled again, and you grinned.

‘Very good, but take a breath my man,’ you said. He slumped, sucking in the air around him like he’d run a marathon.  

‘How did he die?’ Ellie asked, suddenly. She’d been quiet all morning.

‘He got sick, umm…a throat thing,’ you said, trying to remember your eighth-grade history.

‘That’s it?’ she asked.

‘Was he infected?’ Mika asked, suddenly panicky, and Ellie rolled her eyes.

‘They didn’t have the fungus back then, dumbass,’ she hissed.

‘Ellie!’ you gasped, surprise on your face. ‘Apologise to Mika right now.’

She looked at you, just as surprised by your tone. A moment passed between you, a correction, you realised, of a dynamic that had started to creep. You were her teacher and her tutor and her friend, and also for a while you had been sort of seeing her Dad, but that wasn’t a thing anymore and now you had to discipline her, and Jackson was a really fucking small town but right now it felt like it could fit on the head of a pin.

You thought, for a moment, that she was going to fight you. But you watched her deflate, the anger seeping out of her bones.

‘M’sorry,’ she said. You hazarded a glance at Mika, who was now almost completely folded in on himself.

‘It’s OK,’ he said. It wasn’t.

You waited until the end of the day to pull Ellie aside.

‘Ok, what was that before?’ you asked, and she shrugged. She had been quiet again for the rest of the day, not willing to be drawn on questions you knew she had the answer to, and when it came to math in the afternoon she had just stared out the window and drew circles on her paper. You held in a sigh. ‘Mika looks up to you, y’know,’ trying the time-honoured tradition of guilt tripping to keep a teenager in line.

‘I know,’ she said, looking up at you, then, defiant and angry again. ‘I know he does but how is that my job?’

‘OK…’ you started, feeling already that you were getting tugged out to sea by her riptide. ‘I think maybe we need to reset…’

‘Like, did he even ask me if I wanted him to follow me around like a fuckin’ puppy? No. And I don’t want him to. I don’t want to hang out with some stupid fuckin’ kid. It’s embarrassing. What about what I want to do?’

It was a lot in a short period of time, and you were torn on how best to approach it. On the one hand you should probably cool her down, on the other she was finally speaking up about whatever it was that was bothering you. On a third hand she was swearing quite a fucking lot.

‘Ellie…’ you started, but you stopped when you realised her eyes were growing red. ‘Hey, kiddo…’

‘Don’t,’ she said, holding her hand up to you. ‘Not your kiddo.’

‘No, but…but I care about you…’

She bit her lip, obviously wanting to take it all back. You felt a compulsion to wrap her up in your arms and hug her tightly to you, but you knew she wasn’t the type for that. She tugged on her long sleeves. ‘Why do I feel like this isn’t really about Mika?’ you hazarded.

‘He’s moving her into the house,’ Ellie spat, the tears starting to roll down her cheeks. ‘He didn’t even ask me what I wanted.’

It had been weeks since you’d been over there, Ellie choosing to come to you for your sessions. You had thought, initially, that she was trying to spare you from having to deal with Joel, but suddenly you saw it in a different light. You were respite. You were a port in a storm.

You swallowed your own feelings down, a little kick in the gut that would have looked a lot like anguish if you decided to turn your gaze to it.

‘He said she could have the spare room, but then she just moved all her stuff straight into his.’

You weren’t going to think about it. Not about her asleep in his sheets, wrapped up in his arms, his lips pressing soft kisses to her forehead while she slept. None of it.

‘Oh, that’s…’ you started, but couldn’t think how to answer that question. Part of you was howling, while another part of you was working so hard to remind yourself you didn’t care anymore.

‘I’m gonna move out,’ she said, and your attention snapped back to her.

‘What? Ellie you can’t…’

‘There’s a studio out the back, its got proper insulation. Tommy checked in. It has electricity. I’m fuckin’ going out there.’

‘And Joel is OK with that?’ you asked, and she looked down at her shoes.

‘He seemed kind of relieved,’ she muttered. You put a hand on her shoulder.

‘That can’t have been it,’ you said. She looked up into your eyes, and you plastered what you hoped was a confident expression on your face. ‘Can’t have been,’ you repeated.

--

You were restless. It had been a few hours since your conversation with Ellie and you’d been turning it over in your head like a puzzle you could put together if you could just find the right piece. It was silly, but you wanted to know if Joel had ever felt anything for you, or for anyone in the past twenty years, or if it had been Shauna the whole time. If he’d just been waiting for her, hoping and pining, and you’d been a convenient way to spend his time until she appeared.

It just seemed so fast, that they were already together. You wondered if they had ever really, truly, been apart.

You paced in front of your doorway. The nights were getting cold again, and it was getting darker earlier, and so you didn’t really feel like going for a walk. You wanted to go and see Maria and Baby Robin, but you felt strange about it now, seeing her with Shauna as often as you did. You had the strange feeling of having been corrected and replaced, a new version of you with edits, out and about living the life you should have if you had been any good at it.

You’d already eaten. The little makeshift library would be closed. You thought about dropping in on Billy at the wall, but the wind was picking up and you weren’t sure when Joel’s next shift was. You hated that you still navigated by his bearings.

At your front porch, you let your legs walk you where they wanted to. As you listened to the crunch of your boots on the gravel you thought of life beyond the wall, tried to imagine all the horrors Shauna would have been dealing with out there. She travelled with two men, and you weren’t so naïve that you didn’t know what that would have cost her. You wondered if she’d spent time in a QZ, if she’d had a job there. She didn’t seem like the type to be enlisted; she probably would have been too old on outbreak day.

You had to believe it was unintentional, her finding Joel and Jackson. You couldn’t think of any way it couldn’t have been, and you tried. So, what was it then that she had found him, in a world almost totally wiped clear, other than a kind of kismet? Who were you to interfere in luck that strong? In something so fated as to be almost impossible. You weren’t a religious person, not spiritual in any real way, not after everything you’d seen and lost, but even you had to respect when the Universe was sending such an obvious message.

You stopped, looking up to discover your feet had marched you to the Bison. Fair enough. If you weren’t going to ignore clear and obvious and pretty fucking painful messages from the Universe, you better not start now.

--

Joel was irritated. More than irritated, more than frustrated. Shauna was in his place all the fuckin’ time now, and he wasn’t entirely sure how it got to be that way, and now Ellie was talking about movin’ out to the studio right as the weather was turning, right as the cold was going to set back in, and he was going to go knocking on her door one day and find her frozen fuckin’ solid under some thin little blanket Tommy has scrounged up for her instead of warm and safe under his roof.

He stood out the front of his porch, looking suspiciously at the potted plants Shauna had lined up against the railing. She said it was about being homely, about bringing in a little colour, but Joel couldn’t help but notice all of her womanly touched appeared at the front of the place. Visible from the street.

He paced. He’d done another shift on the wall and normally he’d be desperate to sit down, rest his knees and his back. Take some of the pressure off his aching bones. But now his house felt different, like it wasn’t fully his own. He’d lost something. Another something.

Ducking under the side windows he made it way around the back to the studio, careful to push the door open just enough to slip in unheard from the house. He didn’t turn the light on, didn’t want to draw any attention. He stood in the middle of it, staring at the bare window and the cold concrete floor.

He’d been grateful for the peace, for a while. With Steve and Wren excised from the community things settled in. Shauna was getting back on track with the council, seemed to have settled more into her role as Maria’s almost PA, as Tommy’s kind of but not quite assistant. She hummed when she cooked dinner, some kind of tuneless melody that might have been a song he could recognise before she mangled it. She was no better chef than she was twenty years ago.

It had just come on so quickly, his history clawing out of the depths and grabbing him by the middle. Fast enough he hadn’t noticed until he was pulled under.

He heard the door creak and he swung around, bracing.

‘Sorry, brother,’ Tommy said, arms up in surrender. ‘Didn’t realise you were in here.’

‘Keep your voice down,’ Joel muttered, pulling his brother in and easing the door closed.

‘You in hidin’ in here?’ Tommy asked, and Joel huffed out a frustrated sigh.

‘Just didn’t feel like…dealing with anything for a minute,’ he said. Tommy watched as his older brother grimaced, holding his hip.

‘You hurt?’ he asked.

‘Nah,’ Joel dismissed, waving the brotherly concern away. ‘Just been on the couch the last few weeks, ain’t sure it ever had springs worth a damn but twenty years ain’t helped it none.’

‘On the couch, huh?’ Tommy asked, surprised by this little glimpse into Joels’ home life.

‘I ain’t with Shauna,’ Joel said, because he could read his brother’s mind, being so similar to his own.

Tommy nodded, walking to the wall of the room and leaning against it, one leg bent at the knee as he rested his foot behind him.

‘So what’s goin’ on there, brother?’ he asked, and watched as Joel turned away.

‘She just…she’s just suddenly everywhere,’ Joel said, after a while.

‘When you moved her out of ours, I thought…’

‘She said it was too damp, that it was makin’ her stuffed up. I dunno. She used to get real sneezy in the Spring.’

Tommy nodded at this. He’d been happy to have his garage back, but he considered now he might have been a little too keen to push her out.

‘How did I lose it again?’ Joel asked, almost to himself.

‘What do you…’

‘She was under m’roof, now she’s movin’ out here to the cold. We were a family, for a second, we were safe. There was a kind of…’

‘Peace,’ Tommy supplied, and Joel nodded.

‘I failed her again, Tommy,’ he said, voice thick enough that Tommy faltered. ‘Both of ‘em,’ he said.

Tommy didn’t need to ask who. He’d seen the change in his brother when Ellie started tutoring, had seen the way he was fighting happiness like he couldn’t quite believe it, like he knew all too well what it was like to have it ripped out from under him, to have it bleed in his arms. Knew his brother and that he was a fast learner, that he wasn’t often fooled twice.

‘You didn’t believe it,’ Tommy said, after a while. Joel nodded, fighting hard to keep tamping down whatever was currently trying to crawl up and out of his sternum.

‘Every time I look at Shauna…’ he said, stopping for a second to catch his breath. ‘She has her eyes, Tommy.’

Tommy smiled warmly at this, having noticed the same. It might have been why he offered Shauna the garage in the first place, so sure he was watching Sarah stare back at her uncle through her mother’s eyes. It had made it impossible to say no, and he hadn’t wanted to.

‘No…’ Joel was saying, ‘you don’t unnerstand.’ Tommy realised there were tears threatening to spill down Joel’s cheeks. ‘She’s there every time I look at Shauna, but she’s not there, not in the right now. Every time I look at Shauna I think about m’little girl. I think about all the love for her, cuz it’s still right there, Tommy.’ Joel rubbed at his chest, thumping over his heart. ‘And…I think about losin’ her. I think about those eyes going hazy starin’ up at me in that damn field.’

Joel felt his stomach roll, worried for a moment the memory was so strong he would conjure it in front of himself. He could smell her blood again, mixed in with the dirt and the long grass.

‘Shauna’s here all the damn time, and now it’s like it was all yesterday again. I see m’little girl’s face gone all pale, I feel her in my arms…’

Joel stopped. He didn’t have the words anymore, couldn’t trust that he would be able to speak them out loud. He realised he was shaking, that he was close to toppling over when he took a step back and had to steady himself on the bench. In moments he was wrapped in his brother’s arms, holding on nearly as tight as the moment they’d been reunited the first time Joel made it to Jackson.

‘I know, brother, I see it too,’ Tommy said, feeling his own tears tracking down his cheeks.

‘Shauna’s costin’ me everything. Teach, maybe Ellie… I can’t stand it, but I can’t… I want her near, Tommy. I gotta look after her, cuz there’s my little girl in those eyes, and I can’t fuckin’ fail her again.’

Tommy nodded, his words too caught up in his throat. All he could do was nod, clap his brother on the back a few times. After a minute he let go, rearranging his jacket and clearing his throat as Joel composed himself a few paces away.

‘When Ellie said she wanted to come out here I was almost…it almost felt like a good thing. I dunno…some kind of, separation maybe? From history and…whatever the fuck this is now.’

Tommy didn’t really understand, probably would never, but he agreed with his big brother just the same.

‘We can make it real nice in here, Joel. We can make it warm, make sure its dry. I’m already thinkin’ about rugs, Maria reckons she can sew up some curtains.’

Joel appraised the room. He had seen his brother repair worse.

‘She’s a teenager, would have wanted her own space one day anyhow,’ he rationalised, and Tommy agreed.

‘It might be good for you both, especially with…’ Tommy nodded to the house. ‘You really want an angry teenager in your house 24/7?’

‘Dealt with you OK,’ Joel said, and he was smiling again, if a little tentatively.

‘Ahh, I was a fuckin’ angel compared to you, brother,’ Tommy said. He slapped his brother on the back again as if he could push the shrivelled little kernel of loss out, shoot it out of his chest and onto the floor beside them, let it rattle around unnoticed, roll under a cabinet and gather dust.

--

You’d found a seat at the bar, the booths mostly taken out by groups or couples. You hadn’t considered that you would be so obviously alone when you first walked in, and you scanned around you to see if anyone was looking. To your relief, none of them were.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t spent hours of your life drinking at the Bison. But usually with Billy, or Maria before Tommy came along, and then eventually Tommy, too. But this felt different. You ordered a whiskey from Paulie on the bar, and willed your fingers to still.

It took twenty minutes for you to relax, exchanging glances with Paulie and feeling the hairs on the back of your neck tingle each time you thought someone was looking your way. A second whiskey in you found yourself caring less, the warmth running down your throat and into your chest. It was starting to feel more and more like a very good idea to come in here.

You heard laughter to your left, and turned to see Guillaume and Jonah chuckling to each other. You caught their eye, not able to look back fast enough, and they clocked you watching. They nodded to you, raising their glass. Embarrassed, you did the same.

It took a few minutes before Guillaume pealed away, leaving Jonah on his own. You swallowed, watching out of your peripheral vision as he slid off his stool and came to stand within striking distance of you.

‘Hi,’ he said, when you insisted on still pretending you didn’t know he was there. You felt your shoulders tighten as you turned to him.

‘Hi there,’ you said, trying to sound bright and easy but your tongue suddenly sluggish under all that booze. He was smiling, though, his face open as he moved to perch beside you.

‘Drinking alone?’ he asked, and you shrugged.

‘It’s after 5,’ you reminded him, and he grinned.

‘That’s true,’ he said, raising his hands in mock apology. ‘You go about your business.’

The way he said it reminded you of so many of the FEDRA soldiers you had worked besides, and sometimes opposite. Go about your business, uttered to the gathering crowd while a rifle wavered in the face of a thirteen-year-old kid caught stealing from the breadline. You blinked, those memories almost ten years old and still enough to jolt you right down to the bone.

‘You’ve been abandoned,’ you observed, your voice oddly strained.

‘Nah, I asked Guillaume to take a hike,’ Jonah said, shrugging.

‘You did? Why?’ you asked, and he put his head on his side to observe you properly as he grinned.

‘Wanted to talk to you.’

Oh, you thought. Fuck. Flirting. What was that again? You felt your face arrange itself into a look of surprise, without your instruction. Jonah’s grin faltered.

‘Unless you don’t want me to talk to you…I mean, if you want to be alone of course I’ll leave you…’

It was just so different. He was just telling you what he was thinking, and he was considering your feelings, and he was smiling warmly at you without giving the impression that it cost him something to do it.

‘No, keep me company. If you leave it’ll really look like I have a drinking problem.’

As he ordered himself another beer and a lemonade for you, you studied his profile. He was younger than Joel, either in his late 30s or early 40s – it was hard to tell because the apocalypse tended to age a person – and you observed that he had deep lines around his eyes from when he smiled. He was clean-shaven, kept his hair short except for an unruly curly bit on the top that looked like it had a mind of its own. His nails were neatly trimmed. You didn’t know why that mattered to you, but for some reason it did. He was good looking, you realised. In a conventional kind of way. In the real world he would have done well for himself.

‘I’ve gotta say, I was kind of scared to talk to you,’ Jonah said, and you caught the way he was blushing even in the dim lights of the Bison.

‘Oh? Why’s that?’ you asked, and he grinned at you.

‘I mean, you’re the one up on that hill teachin’ all these kids to read, about history and stuff, how the world works.’

‘You intimidated by a smart woman?’ you asked, and his smile faltered, slightly.

‘Intimidated…’ he said, as if he was tasting the word for the first time. ‘Maybe a little. Maybe just kinda shy.’

You genuinely weren’t sure what to make of this revelation. You let it roll around in your head for a while to see if you could make sense of it.

‘You worried I’m going to correct your grammar?’ you asked, and you laughed a little to let him know you were kidding, mostly.

‘Just not used to being so outgunned,’ he said, and oh he was very fucking charming when he wanted to be, actually. You felt your own blush creep up your cheeks to match his.

--

He went in eventually, ate dinner at the table with Shauna while she prattled on about her day, but he was restless again by bedtime, the couch and the scratchy blankets not appealing even despite the long day.

‘You could always join me upstairs,’ Shauna said, and Joel exhaled long and slow.

‘Ain’t gonna do that, Shauna. Told you before.’

Shauna shrugged at him, climbing three steps before stopping and turning back to him.

‘We’ll see when it gets real cold, Miller,’ she said, and he wasn’t sure whether she meant it to sound so much like a threat.

He decided on a whiskey, just one, to ease his body into sleep. He had generally been sober, seeing as though he had no hope of pills nor inclination to raid the infirmary and take from the community that sheltered him and his girls, but he stared at the ceiling enough nights to know he didn’t have it in him now.

There was a chill in the air, he noticed, as he walked silently to the Bison. Shauna was right, it would get cold in the living room soon enough. He’d have to check to see if there were heavier blankets. Put in a special request to Gollum next time there was a patrol.

He felt a little better, having talked it out with Tommy. He’d been finding it hard to figure what was going on, why he was so mad all the time, why he was dreaming of her again. It made sense when he said it out loud. Felt like he’d lanced some kind of mental boil, maybe a little. Didn’t feel so tight in his chest. He hadn’t realised he’d been walking around with a fist clenched in his gut until this moment, when it had finally, and ever so slightly, eased its grip.

The Bison was quiet, only a handful of couples and groups left in the booths. He’d taken three steps when he heard your laugh, a sing-song little thing that he’d first heard twinkle out of you when Ellie was reciting some of her favourite jokes from that damn pun book. His body turned on instinct to the sound.

You had your hand on the arm of one of Gollum’s men, his new patrol partner. You were smiling so warm and pretty as he told you some stupid fuckin’ story that had you giggling, light radiating off your face. There were a couple of empty glasses between you, your cheeks rosy from the warmth of the booze in your blood.

You were happy and you were relaxed, he realised, and he hadn’t seen you like that in a long time. Not since Shauna. Not since he…just…not since him.

Joel realised the clenched fist in his gut had only lessened its grip so that it could wind up a punch, hard and radiating right up to his solar plexus. He looked away, shame burning hard on his cheeks.

He wanted to march over there, rip you off the barstool and throw you over his shoulder, spank you on your behind as he carried you back to your place and reminded you who you belonged to, who wanted you.

Wanted to wrestle the little patrolman prick to the ground, kick a boot into his side and make him spit blood for the simple crime of having tried to take you from him.

Wanted to run over there, pull you into his arms and beg for your forgiveness.

Wanted to run.

He turned, fast, on his heel, pushing the door open and hearing it swing back behind him with a crack. He was down the step and out onto the street too fast to find out if anyone was following him, couldn’t imagine that they would. He let his brain tease him for a second that you had seen him, that he’d hear your sweet soft voice callin’ for him out of the nighttime, your little siren song.

He wondered what he’d say to you. If he had the words to make it better, what those would be. He sighed, frustrated with himself, heading back to his house and to the couch and to the scratchy blanket.

So many nights on that thing, staring at the ceiling and practicing what he might say to you. Night after night and not a single sentence to show for it.

--

You heard the door slam, momentarily drawn from your conversation with Jonah to wonder if everything was OK. You waited for the room to stop spinning, realising you’d had way more than you’d intended. You felt warm and kind of slippery inside, and you couldn’t remember if it was a school night, but your skeleton had stopped trying to crawl its way out of your body, and that was good enough for now.

‘You wanna keeptha party goin’?’ Jonah asked, and you blinked at him, wondering for a second what he could possibly mean.

‘You mean go back to your place and have sex?’ you asked, because the alcohol was making you blunt, even for you. You watched as Jonah spluttered, choking a little on the glass of water Paulie had insisted you both have.

‘I mean…if you’re…’

‘No,’ you said, simply. Not angry, not sad, not anything really. Just, no. You didn’t feel like it, weren’t sure you’d enjoy it when you’d had this much to drink.

‘Can I walk y’home, at least?’ he asked, and you considered it.

‘You might be more drunk than me,’ you concluded, and Jonah, in turn, gave this some thought.

‘I’d say there’sapretty goo’ chance thassright,’ he said.

‘If anything I might have to walk you home,’ you said. You were smart when you were drunk, you thought. Maybe you should be drunk more often.

‘Can’t do that, I’d feel lessofaman,’ Jonah said.

You were standing now, and so was Jonah, although he appeared to be having more difficulty with it.

‘Y’know the way?’ you asked, and he looked puzzled for a moment.

‘I do,’ Paulie said, clear as a bell, from behind the bar. ‘I’m closing up now, I’ll take him home myself.’

You nodded at this development. Yes, good. That made perfect sense. Everything did, all of a sudden.

‘Well then, I bid you…umm…adieu,’ you finished, with a flourish. You also spoke French when you were drunk, apparently. You contained fucking multitudes.

Out on the street the cold sobered you, and you winced a little as the world came back into focus. You had liked it when everything was just a little soupy. It had felt uncomplicated with Jonah. It had felt…good.

You followed the tracks in frost up the street, not stopping to consider whose they might be. As you got to the corner of your street you noticed that they veered off to the left, towards Joel’s house. You wondered if his lights would be on, if he would be up reading in bed, or whittling on his porch. You considered how late it was, and that Shauna was in there with him now, and you felt your stomach turn sour. You turned, walked the untrodden path to your place.

--

In the morning, a little packet of two not-terribly-expired Tylenol and a bottle of water appeared on your doorstep. More hungover than you could ever remember being, you drank the water and the pills down without stopping to question it. You marvelled at how well Jonah could apparently handle his drink. You wondered why he didn’t knock, or want to come in, but then you looked down and realised you were still in your clothes from the night before, and it made a little more sense. Your mouth tasted like you’d deepthroated a urinal cake. You imagined. You might have still been a little drunk.

Joel stood on the corner, watching you appear at your door in a way that he hoped appeared less creepy than he felt. He hadn’t slept, not a wink, so was able to get down to the infirmary first thing.

It hadn’t been his intention, but he was relieved to see you were still in your clothes. It wasn’t like he was curious, but he supposed that meant you had gone home alone.

The sun in your eyes, you didn’t see him. You let the doorframe hold you up for a while, adjusting to the glare of the dawning Saturday. It was really kind of Jonah to get up this early to come care for you. When you were human again, you were definitely going to make it up to him.

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed

@vickie5446

@kaseyconnour

@orcasoul

@missladym1981

@spacesoutdaydreamer

@tangled-tumbler-blog-blog

@fancyyoouu

@anoverwhelmingdin

@millersamour

@delicatetrashtree

@wand-erer5

@somedayheaven

@maryrhodalouandted

[frozenjokes]

deeply infatuated with them. so much so that you guys can have the full ficlet as a treat. And yeah he wears that dumb fuck lab coat to bed of course he does. he’s also a socks in bed wearer and if you don’t think so we will be dualing at dawn.

zombiecleo and the worst found family in the world vvv

Ow. Ow.

Mosquitos, deer flies, horse flies, bugs, Cub was being ravaged by bugs, he really hadn’t considered the bugs when he’d started this journey. In the Wisconsin northwoods you breathed them, all sorts, but the deer flies were his worst enemies, drawing blood even through the thick layers of.. well, moss didn’t feel like an accurate descriptor. It looked a little like moss, like life had reached toward the sky and captured the stars, brilliant and twinkling and everything good. But moss didn’t have teeth. Sculk did. Cub liked that about it. Whether it hurt more or less than the flies, that was up for debate, but the sculk was consistent, familiar, everywhere, and the flies were in his way.

But with all the bugs, there was some reprieve. Afterall, another source of food meant less of those teeth under Cub’s skin. Less pain, though, somehow, he still managed to miss it.

Sculk was alien. It was not supposed to be here. But it wanted to be.

Sculk was a parasite. So was Cub.

Ow- Fucking- stupid ass dumbass fucking-

Cub jolted awake with a screech, being shaken- dragged out of bed, the monster on his neck- he was falling, a bear- a black bear had got him, he was being dragged through the woods by a black bear- fuck- what bear was it you where you were supposed to play dead? Cub had thought the brown bear, there weren’t brown bears in Wisconsin- He tried anyway.

He realized the floor was not dirt. The paws awkwardly dragging him along weren’t black or brown. Momentarily stunned, he heard Cleo cackle through the darkness.

“Scar- Scar! What are you doing? Wait- No no- No! Scar!”

Cub had the wind knocked out of him as his kidnapper attempted to jump onto Cleo’s bed, his stomach slamming into the mattress before he was unceremoniously dragged all the way up over a howling Cleo. Briefly Cub was released, to which he cautiously began to move until the sheets were pulled so hard underneath him that he fell off balance, only to be grabbed by the throat, then shoved head first underneath.

Cub needed a second to breathe, utterly shocked he was still alive. Then a large weight fell on top of him, and breathing became a little harder. The weight began to purr.

“Scar.” Cleo gasped, sounding just as shaken as Cub felt, though not nearly as dazed. The purring ceased briefly, then began again, Cleo’s bewilderment remaining unanswered. “What- Why?” they tried again, which Scar seemed more receptive to.

“Easier to watch when you’re close together. This is better. Efficient. Safer.”

“We- We don’t need to be watched, Scar. We are safe. This room is safe. There is literally nothing in here that can hurt us.”

“That RenKing is awfully suspicious. It’s watching me.”

“He’s not on! He can not turn on by himself, we are fine.”

“What else lurks in the shadows, Cleo? You never know, you never know. One minute you’re safe, the next minute a hawk has swooped out of nowhere and grabbed your kitten, you gotta be careful, you gotta sleep together. It’s the best way to do it, it’s the best way.”

“I can not argue with you about this right now. Is Cub even alive?”

“He’s wriggling.” Cub was indeed wriggling. He wasn’t even uncomfortable per se, there was something deeply mollifying about having a large weight directly on your back, and he slept face down anyway, so this wasn’t a huge issue. Just adjusting.

“Let him go, Scar.”

Cub was a little offended by the implication that he could not get Scar off by himself- Scar was at least half his weight! “I’m fine.”

“He’s fine,” Scar parroted.

Cleo sighed, long and strained. She said no more. With enough passage of time, Cub stopped going to sleep in his own bed, since no amount of arguing was going to stop Scar from dragging him out of it every night. Though, out of all of Scar’s disruptive quirks, this was not something Cub minded all too much. He liked Cleo’s company, though he was relatively certain Cleo did not enjoy sleeping in a full bed nearly as much. Well, Cub definitely took up more room, but it wasn’t like she had slept alone since Scar had invited himself to sleep at their feet anyway.. then their legs.. then their stomach.. then their chest. Maybe this was always the next step. Cub wouldn’t be surprised if Scar had been planning it from the start. Oh well. No skin off his back.

uh if you like this there’s more of it on ao3 here’s a link

[marengogo]

UGH!-9: Y’all Done Did It

Listening to the play list Who is Standing next to you 

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

Yes, I am enjoying my day-off, thank you for asking 😘. In fact, everything was going 🍑y, and then, as I scrolled on my husband’s post to see if other people had requested PIXID and liking all the ones who requested it 💜 I noticed one comment, and then a similar one and then I started scrolling …

WHAT THE FUCK IS ALL THIS?:

The whole time AYS aired I left it alone. I saw this type of comments on the Blue Bird app, but I left it alone.

I thought: “Blue Bird AMI don’t know better Marengo, let them be …”, “Once the show is finished everyone will go back to their regularly scheduled stanning …” … that’s what I kept telling myself 😩 yet; here we are. 

For Fuck Sake:

Are You Sure?! 👏🏾 Is a Jungkook 👏🏾 and Jimin 👏🏾Show 👏🏾. Period👏🏾.

Do you know American Hustle Life? Yes! It is a Joonie, Jin, Yoongi, Hobi, JM, Tae and JK show.

Do you know Bon Voyage? Yes! It is a Joonie, Jin, Yoongi, Hobi, JM, Tae and JK show.

Do you know In The Soop? Yes! It is a Joonie, Jin, Yoongi, Hobi, JM, Tae and JK show.

IT REALLY AIN’T THAT HARD. 

I don't even know how to keep explaining this. Forget the shipping, forget the fact that JK and JM might be a couple, forget ALL OF IT:

I know I still have to do the EI post about JK, but let me say this for the MILLIONTH TIME: JK IS NOR STUPID OR CRUEL. If he, and JM, wanted a show where they would invite members every other episode, they would have a show where they would invite members every other episode and this would have been clear from the very beginning, because just like myself, I believe organization and routine to be a big part of JK’s life. Tae was an exception/special guest. As simple as.

Does this mean that they hate the members' presence? No. Do they want to leave the band? No. Do they think they are the most important members? NO. It simply means that maybe, just maybe, these two particular members particularly enjoy each other’s company. Some of us think it is romantic, the general public think it is strictly friendship: WHATEVER! Can AMI please please please acknowledge all harmless forms of expression? Joonie came out with one of the best albums out there, by himself, and JK & JM went on various trips and adventures together, which they wanted to share with us, AS SIMPLE AS THAT.

Liking Are you Sure?! doesn't make you a shipper, liking Are you Sure?! doesn't make you less OT7, however, liking Are You Sure?! will make you a person who is accepting of whatever harmless forms of entertainment that are being gifted to you by people whom you supposedly care about, and that very obviously means a lot to them, SO AMI NEEDS TO STOP TRYING TO TWEAK IT, BECAUSE THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH IT IN ANY WAY.

Yes I am a bitch, Yes I am petty, and Yes I am also OT7 AMI, an OT7 AMI who thinks two gentlemen in the band may fancy each other, but that is about it. I don’t go around forcing people to believe my perceptions, I don’t go brain-showing people into believing that these two individuals are married and I am very aware that they may just be straight men whom were never even curious. 

Remember my grammar pet-peeve? The one where I explained that Some people isn't the same as All people? Well, the same goes for Are You Sure?! Isn’t the same as A show like Are You Sure?! Like this person commented:

TRANS: A travel show. Something like Are You Sure? With Hobi 💜💜💜💜

This type of suggestion is totally fine. This ☝🏾, implies that the person understands that this particular show is something that two other members did, but it would be nice if two other members would make their own show with similar premises. So NO, Are You Sure Season 2?! Shouldn’t be a show with two other members and NO JK & JM don’t need to invite all the members if they don’t want to. And once again, for the love of everything that is demure,

it doesn't mean that they hate the members.

Okay? Okay.

Ayte, I’ve said all I wanted to say, now it's time for some comfort food & drinks.

またね！💋

Marengo.

[deadguywalkin]

nsfw hcs for seb/sam/alex both solo & together because i’m gay and still evil, just more evil this time

mdni with this post, cw nsfw, mostly mlm

i won’t be posting any more nsfw content beyond this, i just felt silly today

alex

top, versatile but mostly dom, doesn’t mind bottoming

HUGE size + praise kink. wants to be praised as he’s fucking into them, to be told that he’s the best. also just thinks it’s really hot when he’s a lot bigger than someone

gets pent up very often which just leads to him being very rough and aggressive, in contrast to his warm and loving personality

very handsy and grabby, can grip a little too hard and leave bruises accidentally because he doesn’t know how to balance controlling his strength while focusing on the other person and himself, and just generally everything going on at once.

too embarrassed to just outwardly say ‘i need you’ since guys still make him nervous. he only knows how to talk to them in a bro way. will get eventually get desperate and then end up texting because he can’t say it face to face

also wants his face to be held gently while he’s looking over them as he’s told that he’s doing a good job. just loves being the golden boy

needs lots and lots of tight cuddles after so he can be reassured he never did anything wrong

sam

the most versatile/switch man you’ll ever meet

‘hold on, i gotta get the right music’

usually very gentle and tender, gets insanely rough and messy when pent up

also really really enjoys being called a good boy while fucking into them 

bite bite bite bite. lots of biting. he just REALLY likes biting

pleasure top.. no words. he just wants to study their insides and see what makes them feel the best

really vocal. cracky and whiney voice

loves his mullet being pulled/tugged/gripped on

hints at wanting to fuck by grabbing at thighs, just being very handsy and giving them the look™ (fuck me eyes)

though he loves praise, he also heavily enjoys being threatened. throat grabbing and the likes

seb

mostly dombot, but also pretty versatile and switchy

he has a smoking addiction.. he also probably has a huge oral fixation.

pierced nipples. do NOT argue with me on this he so would

opposite of alex’s size kink, loves being smaller and overpowered. being carried, beaten in arm wrestling turns him on significantly 

has a thing for bruises. he definitely loves getting off of his knees to see them all red or the occasional bruises on his hips/wrists

doesn’t mind whatever kink/thing his partner has and honestly just doesn’t care as long as he’s getting fucked stupid

not vocal. low and deep groans, and the very very occasional quiet breathy ‘hmmh.. hah..’ >> sounding like he’s full on sobbing pipeline

loves torturing them. just loves it. ;; he quickly lets go the second he feels a slight twitch. ‘not yet. good boy..’ he says, with a little ruffle to the hair. 

also enjoys watching them cry from overstimulation. he’s pretty sadistic when it comes to stuff like this

doesn’t hint, he just outwardly says it. but if they aren’t dating yet he gets flirty and uses his narrow eyes with a relaxed voice

all 3/general

wear their bruises/hickeys/bite marks like medals of honor. don’t even try to cover them up.

seb loves being able to just turn his brain off while being with those himbos and just open up his mouth. he usually has to do all of the thinking around them, but now he gets to just shut them up

samalex would probably be lying if they said they didn’t love seb being trans a little more than they should.. save me boypussy, save me..

seb rides them into oblivion LMFAO

sambastian just. love being overpowered by alex. they need to be put in a headlock

alex having many many gay and questionable thoughts about emo/pierced boys

sebalex are batshit insane about vocal guys

sam+alex

surprisingly very warm, gentle, loving, but interchangeable with being batshit horny and just fucking each other. 

can’t keep their hands off of each other. really really touchy

a lot of ‘is this okay?’ ‘sorry..’

‘mmhf.. you’re doing.. so good, bro..’

they switch often

sam takes a while to figure out what alex likes (with alex insisting he can just do whatever he wants), but eventually does figure it out and adjusts to it

wrestling to see who gets to top. a lot of wrestling.

they’re giggly and soft together

seb+sam

a lot of oral, seb enjoys torturing him and sam enjoys giving him what he likes/wants

they baby each other. they’ve known each other all their lives, so they’re just really comfortable acting like/doing whatever together. 

seb convinces sam to let him just give him what sam wants sometimes, not for him to just people please 100% the time

get high >> have sex while listening to csh

very handsy aswell

seb+alex

teasing selfies. they’re competitive and like riling each other up

they often fight for who gets to dom

>> often ends up with alex getting to fuck him stupid or seb getting to ride him mindless

‘fuck, good boy.. you’re doing so.. good..’

they just love being really risky with it

fighting/arguing >> angry sex

based off of the hairgel joke LOL but alex probably would infact keep hair products at seb’s house

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 5

Ao3 | 3.7k Words | Darlin's POV

Dr. McDreamy is on the case. X-rays, bone fragments, and late night confessions.

TW: Medical jargon, discussion of broken bones, trauma, and abuse, Alexis Solaire (just ya know... general warning for her)

It had been two weeks since you’d made your prodigal return to the 10-19, and in that time, you’d managed to avoid having any conversation that delved past surface platitudes and small talk with David. You weren’t sure if you’d consider your conversation in the office to be an argument, but that’s what it felt like. You thought about apologizing. But then, you didn’t really think you were wrong. 

David drove you to the firehouse every day. You hung around the house while he was on shift, napped across the bunkroom and lounge, ate the seemingly endless snacks that spawned in the kitchen every day. He drove you back to his place at night. You chatted with his spouse while he cooked dinner. You watched reruns of Grey’s Anatomy and The X-Files in the living room late into the morning hours, too restless to sleep. You could see the front door from your spot on the leather sectional. You guarded the two of them while they slept. 

You bothered Sam, mostly to avoid talking to the rest of the fire crew. Asher followed you around when he wasn’t on a call, his pathetic puppy dog eyes wide and terribly effective. Milo had attempted to talk to you a few times. He would call out to you, the familiar cadence of bickering and teasing coloring his tone as he shouted down fleeting hallways; “Tanker!” Even after so many years of living in Dahlia, his heavy, North Eastern accent hadn’t settled into the more neutral, South Western tones of those around you. You supposed that you couldn’t shake Washington out of your mouth, even after being here for over a decade. 

You were faster than him, always had been, and you escaped into the relative safety of the ambulance bay. Neither of them followed you there, in Sam’s domain, where they couldn’t trap you in the context of your past with them. 

Sam was a fresh start. Sam and Vincent and their nervous probie didn’t know you, didn’t know how reckless and stupid and stubborn you were. You didn’t have to sit with the heaviness of it all, with the betrayal you’d levied against them, the abandonment. 

David needed you. They all did. And you’d left. They hated you. They had to hate you. 

Eventually, Dr. Collins (and he was a doctor, his gossiping little probie ratted him out) convinced you to accompany him to an off-the record appointment at Dahlia General late at night. 

“Your name won’t end up on any paperwork.” He assured, huddled in the back of the ambulance as he ran paperwork between calls. He looked so fucking good in his uniform shirt. Navy and fitted, the short sleeves curled around his biceps as tight as skin. You wanted him to lock his arm around your throat and squeeze. 

There was something wrong with you. 

“I don’t have any money.” You said.

“That don’t matter.” Sam shook his head, that little crease deepening in his brow. Perpetual worry. Continuous stress. Your finger twitched to reach across the miniscule space between you, him crouched over his clipboard on the ride-along bench, you sat criss-cross on the gurney he’d just disinfected. You wanted to ease the tension from the lines on his face, spread your grubby fingers across his skin until it went slack. “Officially, we’re providing medical treatment to no one, so there’s no one to charge for it.” 

“Clever thing.” You grinned. Sam didn’t strike you as the sort of man who blushed, but if he did,  you imagined it would look something like this. His head ducked, his mouth quirked into something resembling a smile. You could spend a lot of time chasing that expression on his face. 

 David didn’t ask questions as you walked to Sam’s truck instead of his that night. They must have conspired about this. Petulant frustration bubbled in your gut. You swallowed around complaints, huddled into Sam and didn’t meet David’s eyes as he called out the same thing he did every time someone he cared about got into a vehicle he wasn’t driving:

“Be careful.” 

Sam’s truck was smaller than David’s and older too. You ran your fingers across the leather seats and dashboard, shifting to better accommodate your still-sore ribs. He huffed as he plopped himself down into the driver’s seat. His keys jingled with the tremor of his right hand. You’d been watching Sam’s hands for two weeks now, too weak to watch his eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. You could map that shake like a stretch of familiar road, curving and rough and so known to you you didn’t have to think as you drove it. 

Dahlia General was a big hospital. It was Dahlia’s only Level One trauma center, so it was where the 10-19 dropped off most of its critically injured patients. You’d crossed the threshold of the ER countless times since you were a probie, often for yourself. You had the record for the most on-the-job injuries in the house’s history. Gabe had a plaque made and everything.  

Sam didn’t pull into the ER bay, but instead into a covered parking garage that led to an employee entrance. He leaned over you to pull out a red decal that he hung from the rear view mirror. His name was inscribed in white text across the surface; Dr. Samuel Collins. 

“Not a word.” He hissed as your mouth started to fit around a smart comment. You pressed your teeth into your tongue as he cut the engine. 

You passed a series of locker rooms with a handful of exhausted looking doctors in green scrubs and rumpled white coats. They seemed not to see you, but a few of them stopped their hurried paths to shout a greeting to Sam. Some of them called him by name. Some, the younger, nervous-looking ones, scurried past him without making eye contact. If they did address him, it was always with his title instead of his name. Sam’s face darkened each time, slipping into a waxy, distant mask. 

Sam dismissed the x-ray tech handily. He had no white coat, no badge with his name, no credentials, but everybody still treated him like a doctor. He stepped into the darkened room, took a deep breath, and turned to you. His face was blank and slack. 

“Right.” He nodded. “Hands and ribs.” 

Sam ran the x-ray like it was the most familiar thing in the world to him. He laid out your hands, palm down, marked them left and right, laid a heavy, protective apron over your chest before stepping behind a wall and running the machine. He had you stretch out on a cold, metal table and took images of your ribs. He led you from the x-ray room down a secluded hallway to a small exam room, the lights still off. 

“You’re a doctor.” You said into the pin-drop quiet between you. Sam sighed out through his nose. 

“That I am.” He replied. 

“If I were a doctor,” you cocked your head to the side, let the unnatural curl of your top lip pull your mouth into a vicious sort of smile, “I wouldn’t take the pay cut to be a paramedic captain.” 

“Yeah well…” Sam’s face darkened, the joke slipping past him and landing as an insult. You swallowed around the apology that beat at the back of your throat. “We aren't the same person.” 

There was a rap of knuckles against the door of your exam room. You jumped, a jolt of pain running up your ribcage and catching your breath. Sam’s bright eyes caught yours for a moment before he reached for the door handle. 

The prettiest man you’d ever seen in your life stepped through the darkened doorway, x-ray films in his thin, long hands. He was wearing the same sort of white coat that all of the interns and residents in the locker rooms were wearing, but his was stark and pressed and perfect. Underneath it he wore a set of maroon scrubs, separate, it seemed, from the rest of the hospital. His hair was so blonde it was nearly white, his skin pale and flawless, his gray eyes shining even in the darkness of your exam room. He smiled, his teeth straight and white and sharp. He extended one of those long hands to you, and his touch was cold as fuck when you met it. He looked nothing like Patrick Dempsey, but your mind supplied the moniker McDreamy anyway. 

“Hello, there,” he smirked, his voice tinged with a smarmy British accent. You flinched at the sound of it, your face curling in disgust. His eyes flicked across your features, but seemed to find no offense among them. “You must be-”

“Porter.” Sam warned from his spot in the corner. “Please, just tell ‘em what’s going on. No flirting.” Dr. McDreamy turned on the heel of his fancy shoes, held a hand up in the scout’s solute. 

“No flirting.” McDreamy repeated. “Now, if you don’t mind, Samuel, I have a patient to attend to. Don’t forget that I’m doing you a favor.” 

“Yeah,” Sam rolled his eyes and made for the door, “add it to my tab. Just come get me when y’all are done.” 

Some childish, stupid part of you wanted to ask him to stay. Part of you wanted to reach out, fold his hand in yours, and let this whole stupid appointment pass over you like water, knowing that Sam would take it all in for you. You tightened your shaking fists and swallowed down that need like bile. 

McDreamy set your x-rays in the light box and flicked it on. He studied them for a moment before casting his eyes over his shoulder to you. 

“You’re a friend of Sammy’s?” He asked. You snorted at the endearment. 

“I’m a firefighter.” You lied. Porter hummed and turned back to his images. 

“Your hands are fine,” Dr. McDreamy said after a moment, his canines glinting as he pointed out your intact knuckles, “just bruising. Your ribs…” he shook his head and clicked his tongue, one long finger trailing over the x-ray of your shattered bones before stepping towards you and lifting your shirt to examine the swelling. “You’ll need surgery.” You pressed your lips together and recoiled from his touch. 

“Nah.” You shook your head. 

McDreamy blinked up at you. You’d finally caught him off guard, thrown him off his rhythm. 

“The bone fragments-” you liked the way his posh accent curled around the word. You shivered at that particular thought. 

“I don’t care.” You managed to cross your arms. “I’ve survived plenty of bone fragments.” Dr. McDreamy held your eye for a moment longer before sighing and nodding. 

“Sam will have wandered off by now. He can’t help himself.” He made for the door, collecting your images and handing them over as he did. You folded them until you could stuff them into your back pocket. McDreamy cringed at the sight. 

He led you through the near abandoned halls of Dahlia Gen. You’d always thought that this place would have stayed as bright and loud and alive at night as it did during the day. At least, that’s what the ER was like. The emergency room was like a living creature, teeming with movement and noise. Marie Greer was the charge nurse down there, and she ran most night shifts with an iron fist. Every time you’d ended up in her care, she’d reamed you out within an inch of your life only to bring you back again with her excellent medical skills. You wondered if she was down there tonight, running her ER like a conductor before an orchestra. You wondered what she would say if she saw you. If she would be the one who could convince you to lay down, get treated, get surgery, get better. 

You wouldn’t risk it. You’d slip out the back and hope she didn’t catch sight of you. 

“You know,” McDreamy said as he led you past a door with big bold letters stating NO ENTRY BEYOND THIS POINT, “pretty face like yours… I could work out that scar tissue faster than you can say ‘please.’” You stared up at him, that smug smile on his face. 

“Go fuck yourself.” 

Porter laughed. After a moment, you joined him, ribs be damned. 

You came upon a door that was marked GALLERY. Porter swiped his keycard and opened it, poking his head in before leaning back and motioning you in. 

Sam was sat in what looked to be a stiff, uncomfortable chair, alone in a gallery space facing a glass panel. His back was bent, elbows on his knees, his posture that of intense focus. You chanced a glance down and caught sight of a vast, brightly lit operating room. A sea of doctors and nurses were moving around a patient on a table like ants. Movements were synched and smooth, flowing between each other as naturally as breathing. Standing over the patient’s left side, at the epicenter of all of the movement, was a woman draped in surgical gowns and gloves. You could see fire red curls escaping the bun and scrub cap at the base of her neck. Her face was pinched in concentration, her hands, painted red, were tying knot after every knot into the flesh of the patient’s still-beating heart. Sam’s shaking hands tried in vain to copy her movements.

“Christ,” you breathed. Sam jolted and looked up at you. His face was strange and open in a way you hadn’t seen before. Something like grief was clear across his features. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, sitting back in his chair, “that’s um…” he swallowed, “that’s Alexis Solaire. She’s a cardiothoracic surgeon. She’s the best of the best.” 

“She’s not human.” Porter chimed from the doorway. “But then, are any of us?”

Sam stood, shook out his shaking hand, and turned away from the OR. As he did, Alexis Solaire looked up from her work very suddenly. It was like she had known Sam was watching, and she knew now that he had turned away. Her work faltered for only a moment before those careful knots were continued. 

He was quiet as he walked you out, hands firmly in his pockets. He waved McDreamy off impatiently, too quiet and withdrawn now to bother with his flirting and teasing. Porter slipped away into the guts of the hospital as you and Sam slipped out of them, into the dingy, dark parking garage. 

Sam sat in the driver’s seat, both hands shaking, his face drawn and pale. He had history in that hospital. He had people there. And it was too much for him. 

“Gimme your keys,” you said. Sam’s eyes snapped to you. 

“What?” He asked softly. 

“You look like you’re gonna pass out.” You smiled. “Let me drive.” He hesitated for a moment, only a moment, before relenting. 

Halfway through the drive, your fancy new phone propped on your knee shining directions up at you through the dark, Sam’s voice rose through the silence in the passenger seat. 

“Your ex,” he said, “the one you’re afraid of-” 

“I’m not afraid of him.” You snapped. Sam was only quiet for a breath before continuing. 

“Did he do this to you?” 

It was the question that had been hanging over you for two weeks, since you’d given Sam just a glimpse of Quinn in that ambulance. You wouldn’t be surprised if Sam had told David. That’s why you couldn’t bear to talk to him about anything serious, why you couldn’t let Milo and Asher chase you down and pull the answer out of you. It felt as though everybody was staring you down all of the time, that question sitting in the back of their throats, beating at their teeth to jump out at you. 

You gnashed your teeth against the instinct to snap at him, to tell him to fuck off, to remind him exactly how little he was entitled to when it came to your history.

But then again, he’d snuck you into a hospital, his hospital, got you looked at for nothing, got one of his fancy doctor friends to see you. You owed him. 

“No.” You gritted out. You flexed your hands on the wheel. You were speeding, just a bit, and purposefully slowed down. “He… it was some friends of his. One hook up and a guy she was seeing. I was… asking her some questions. She didn’t like that.” 

“What, you faced down two grown folks on your own?” Sam huffed. “No wonder you got your ass kicked.” 

“Hey, I walked away from that fight.” You grunted. “They did not.” Sam laughed, and then seemed to realize you were serious. 

“Lord have mercy,” he breathed, “you’re gonna give me an ulcer. You won?” 

“I did.” You grinned. 

“You’re good.” 

“I’m good.” 

Sam turned on the radio, flipping to a pre-saved channel that played shitty, rock-adjacent music that old men liked. He sang along to a few songs, off-key and rasping, his voice so unsure even though he knew the words. 

Sam’s house was deep in the woods just outside of Dahlia, surrounded by tall trees and overgrown grasses. It wasn’t big, but you knew it was expensive just by the look of it. Intentionally aged wood siding on a brick foundation, windows with curtains drawn. A wrap around porch with matching rocking chairs and a string of industrial looking lights. A coffee mug still sat on the wooden planks of the porch next to the plain welcome mat, empty and dark-rimmed. Sam bent to snag it as he passed, unlocking the door with his good hand. 

It was dark inside, still and cold. Sam flicked on a lamp beside the door. A sprawling living room emerged from the dark. A large, worn leather sectional filled up most of the space. Somebody else had decorated it. You couldn’t imagine Sam carefully matching the accents in the rug to the curtains. One wall was lined with floor to ceiling bookcases, stacked haphazardly with sterile-white medical texts. Knowing the costs of textbooks, that shelf alone must have cost more than the rest of the house combined. 

Your fancy new phone buzzed in your pocket. You snagged it out, hands still numb from the cold outside. David’s name lit up on the still-generic wallpaper. 

ETA??

You shot back a quick reply. 

My hand is fine. Ribs are broken, but fine. Crashing at Sam’s. Too late to drive. 

David wouldn’t argue with the ‘too tired to drive’ excuse. 

“Do you… um…” Sam was standing too close to you when you turned. You jumped, twinging your ribs as you did. You winced and stepped back, grasping at your side. “Shit,” Sam’s hands hovered over your shoulders, as though he wanted to steady you but he was afraid to touch, “I’m sorry, Darlin’. You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you replied instinctively, “I’m fine. Jumpy. Always… I’m always just a little jumpy.” 

Sam’s dark eyes flicked over your face. His full lips quirked up at the corners in that ghost of a smile you wanted to chase. 

“Do you want my bed?” 

“Nah,” you shook your head, “unless you’re joining. I won’t kick you out on the street.” 

“Nonsense.” Sam grinned outright, straight, sharp teeth. You wanted to run your tongue along them to see if they could cut. “It’s no trouble. And you’re injured. I’m not letting you bum it on the couch.” 

“Rich boy don’t have a guest room?” The anxious shake in your chest eased a bit as the banter broke out between you. Sam shook his head and stepped forward into your space again, his hands hovered over your shirt, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. Fuck, you were a sucker for brown eyes. 

“Can I?’ He asked. You nodded once. He lifted your shirt gingerly, his hands carefully avoiding actually touching your skin. He first assessed your stab wound, poking and prodding at the gauze before sliding one cold hand up, pressing painfully into your ribs. You gasped, grabbed his shoulder to steady yourself, and threaded your fingers into the fabric of his shirt. “I know, Darlin’, I know. Just lemme…” He ran his fingers along the line of your ribcage one more time before receding. His hand fell to your hip and held on, keeping you upright as you caught your breath. 

“How much longer are you gonna be doing that, exactly?” You gasped. 

“Well, seeing as you’re not getting surgery,” his tone betrayed his disapproval, “a while longer. I wanna make sure your chest wall maintains its integrity. One bone fragment in the wrong place can lead to a collapsed lung. I’m not lookin’ to pull you back from that particular precipice.” 

“Everybody’s so worried about my bone fragments.” You grinned. 

Sam produced an oversized t-shirt bearing the name of a medical college that you didn’t recognize and a pair of fleece pajama pants. He tried again, gentleman that he was, to put himself on the couch, but you wouldn’t have it. The two of you ended up on opposite sides of Sam’s insanely large bed. His blankets were plush and worn, well loved. Sam’s things were nice, nicer than you had expected from his appearance, but it was clear he used things about as far as he could. It was a habit you saw in yourself sometimes. You didn’t think you’d find it in some richy rich doctor with a giant house. 

Sam fell asleep quickly, his quiet puffs of breath evening out. You were so tired. You laid awake, watching out of the second story window as the trees moved in silent conversation. 

“His name is Quinn,” you whispered into the quiet of the room, “and I was in love with him. Was. Maybe I still am. He um… he was rough. But I like that. I thought I did.” You turned your head against Sam’s plush pillow. “He hurt me. Did… um… all of this shit to me.” Your fingers trailed over your face. “I gave as good as I got but… I am… I am scared of him. Really scared.” 

Silence filled the room in the wake of your rasping voice, nothing but the pounding of your heart and Sam’s quiet breaths to reply to you.

[aoleet-d00d]

Does anyone else on TCC genuinely get embarrassed when people get things wrong about the events/attacks, I had to tell somebody on twitter that they had circled the wrong people (He had circled the picture above but included Eric and I think Chris (?) some random guy but not Dylan??) Like, what’s the term for people who aren’t TCC? Anyway, it’s just bizarre, if normal people are gonna fucking make us feel bad for liking shit at least let them get their facts straight before judging. I hate that shit, I hate fucking stupid people. It’s so annoying.

I don’t mind if people disagree with me, because it’s fair— Everyone is entitled to their own opinion and thoughts, my best friend (IRL) doesn’t care for TCC, she thinks i’m weird for likening it but accepts me nonetheless, and she lets me talk about it and even she can point out the Columbine guys perfectly fine. Because she’s smart. I don’t know, does anyone agree or am i yelling in the void.

ALSO STOP GIVING THE WRONG INFO TO THE PUBLIC. ESPECIALLY MISTAKING DYLAN FOR SOMEONE ELSE!! IF YOU TELL PEOPLE THAT, THEY’LL BELIEVE IT!

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Parry but thwh fell out aftee darry and him had a fight because he laughed at some kids, KID Greasers jumping, (he laugher out of awkwardness) and darry took it as a sign he though it was ok and processed it as a threat ti the gang ESPECIALLY Ponyboy.

They fought alot. It was scary because Both Soda and Pony where homd, and classes and plates got broke, shattered, and lots if door slammimg and threats where thrown at each other. Things where said to a point

darry cried.

Hm, ok, so this isn't EXACTLY this but I saw this ask and my brain was like minific! so...minific. Hope you like it!

***************

“I’m telling you man,” Paul is saying, “the giants have got it in the bag this year, have you seen their defense?”

“No way,” Darry shakes his head, “the Bears are consistent and they’ve got Wade as QB, no way they aren’t taking the superbowl.”

“Wade is fine but he’s not better than-”

He’s cut off by the door slamming open. Normally Darry would have half a mind to yell at whoever slammed it because mom always blamed him and Two for it when Steve and Pony were the biggest culprits, but any thoughts of teasing are forgotten as Steve sprints down the hall without even a hello, Soda right on his heels. Darry’s used to the gang bursting in at all hours of the day and night, it’s how their house works, but something about this feels off. His suspicions are confirmed when Steve hurtles back out again a second later holding the first aid kit. 

“Whoa!” Darry grabs Soda’s shoulder before he can follow, pulling him to a stop, “what’s going’ on?”

“Joey Dubois got jumped,” Soda gasps out, chest heaving, “it’s pretty bad.”

“Aaron’s kid brother?” Darry’s heart drops, “But…but he’s ten!”

“Yeah,” Soda’s grim, “I know.”

“You need any help?”

“Nah. Pony’s sittin’ with him right now, and between Dally and Tim Shepard we got enough muscle keepin’ Aaron from doin’ something he’ll regret. ‘Sides,” Soda shoots a cold glare at Paul, “your buddy here shows his face and he’ll probably lose some teeth. Aaron’s gang is out for blood.”

He claps Darry on the shoulder and then he’s gone, jumping off the porch steps and running after Steve.

“Shit,” Darry sinks into a chair, previous conversation forgotten, and buries his head in his hands. Joey Dubois. He can see the kid in his head, a little guy with a mop of dark curls and a grin that spelled trouble. Him and Pony buddied it around sometimes, and Darry had always thought it was funny when his own kid brother would complain about having to put up with Joey always following him around. Lord knew Pony followed him and Johnny and Soda around the same way. The thought of the bright eyed kid being jumped nearly made Darry sick. He was hardly the first real little kid to ever be jumped in their neighbourhood, and wouldn’t be the last, but it didn’t make it any easier to stomach.

“So anyway,” Paul says, like Soda hadn’t just interrupted and told them about a literal child being jumped, “Wade isn’t as good a kicker as Tittle–”

“--Paul” Darry grits through clenched teeth, “I don’t want to talk about football right now.”

“What?” Paul scoffs a little, “why?”

“Did you not hear what Soda just said?”

“Some kid got jumped. So what? Happens all the time."

“He’s ten.”

“Dar,” Paul laughs a little, “it’s not a big deal. Yeah he’s ten but so what? He was probably asking for it.”

Darry's jaw tightens..

Usually, his friendship with Paul is easy. They get along better than Darry gets along with just about anyone, they have the same interests, share the same sense of humour and the same desperation to get out of Tulsa Oklahoma no matter what it takes. Sometimes their friendship is so easy that Darry forgets what Paul is, forgets where he comes from. 

Paul Holden is a west side elite, as soc as it gets. And sometimes, like right now, he’s so fucking patronizing Darry could smack him. 

Say what you want about him, but Darry Curtis is not stupid, nor is he naive. He’s seen things on the east side that Paul could only dream of, for all he pretends to be normal, comes to their house and bums around the east side like an actor in a movie, looks at Darry’s world,  his friends and his family like they’re an intriguing thought experiment instead of Darry’s very real life. And people can think what they want about him but Darry Curtis is not ashamed of where he comes from. There’s a lot of shitty things about the east side, but there’s a lot of good people here too, and Paul doesn’t get to sit there in his letterman jacket with his madras shirt and act like Darry reacting to a ten year old kid getting jumped is some crazy, childish thing. 

“You do realize,” he can hear his voice rising, “that my own baby brother is only twelve, right? And that the only difference between him and Joey is luck? I know you have no skin in this game so you don’t give a flying fuck about anything, but you could at least pretend to care.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” Darry demands, “Like someone who cares about little kids getting hurt in my own fucking neighbourhood?”

“Like you’re a fucking greaser!” Pauls bursts out, and then suddenly it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Darry recovers first.

“Get out.”

“Darry-”

“I said get out.” 

“Darry I’m sorry I-”

“No,” Darry advances on him, trying so hard to control his temper he’s literally shaking, “no you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to come here, to my house, in my neighbourhood, meet all my friends and my family, and then look down on me for it like I’m some sort of trash.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Paul begs, “I-”

“Yes you did,” Darry cuts him off. He can feel hot tears welling, the way they always do when he’s so furious it’s hard to think, but he forces them back, “you meant it, and I’m fucking glad you did because guess what? I am a greaser, and I wear that title like a badge of honour ‘cause at least it means I ain’t nothin’ like you!”

“You didn’t seem to want that title when I gave you that shirt did you?” Paul spits back, moved to anger himself. Good. Darry can face Paul's anger a lot easier than his repentance. “Or when you started hanging out with me and the rest of the guys from the football team, or when Tammy Crenshaw asked you to Sadie Hawkins!”

“Whatever,” Darry sneers, “I thought you were better than this but once an asshole always an asshole, huh? I can’t believe I thought you changed. You’re the same shallow, entitled, socy asshole you were back in ninth grade.”

“Fuck you!”

“Get outta my house,” Darry shoves him, hard, “and don’t ever fucking come back. I never wanna see you again.”

“Go to hell!” Paul storms down the steps, “and hey, tell that kid brother of yours to watch his back. Since you apparently think I’m such a piece of shit, I might as well prove it.”

The words hang heavy in the air. For a second, Darry almost can’t understand them strung together like that, the threat almost ludicrous coming from someone he’d considered one of his best friends, the only guy from his circle of west side football buddies he’s ever allowed into his house, ever introduced his family to. For all they’re arguing in this second, for all Darry doesn’t know if he could ever forgive him for his words and his cavalier attitude, he’d never believe Paul capable of doing something like that, of hurting his brother.

But Paul just said it. And Paul Holden never says anything he doesn’t completely mean.

Darry sees red.

The next thing he knows the skin of his knuckles is splitting against Paul’s nose and he’s screaming louder than he can remember screaming in a long time.

“You touch either one of them and I’ll kill you! You hear me? I’ll fucking kill you!”

He doesn’t realize he’s got Paul by the collar of his shirt until he feels multiple pairs of hands yanking him back, someone else tearing Paul away from him.

“That’s enough,” Soda’s back. He shoves Paul, lighter than Darry had but enough that it’s clear he means it, “you better get outta here Holden. Looks like you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

Paul spits at his feet. 

“You better watch your back Curtis.”

Soda’s eyes flash. He’s only fourteen but he’s grown half a foot this summer alone, and right now he looks nothing but tough, cold and fierce.

“Unlike you I’ve got six buddies to watch it for me, so I think you’d better watch your back pal.”

The hands holding Darry release him, Steve moving to flank Soda, Dally and Ponyboy on either side of him, all of them- even twelve year old Pony- just a little in front of Darry.

“Beat it Holden,” Steve tells Paul in that low, deadly voice he only uses when he’s real mad, the one that’s ten times scarier than any of his hollering, “if we have to ask again we won’t be so polite.”

Paul's last glare is cutting but he leaves, eyes like quicksilver as he turns away, and Darry finds himself hoping he’ll run into Aaron Dubois or his gang on his way back to the west side. 

When he's out of sight Dally spits on the ground and lights a cigarette, eyes cold and dangerous.

“C’mon, Dar,” Soda claps him on the shoulder, his smile only a little dimmer than usual, “Johnny and Two went to go see if they could russell up a car for the drag race tonight, and you know mom won’t let Pony watch unless you come with us.”

Darry follows his friends- his real friends- down the street, ruffles his brothers’ hair, and quietly mourns a person he thought he knew.

None of the gang ask what happened, not even Ponyboy. Darry doesn’t tell them, and if he sniffles a bit on the walk to the old rodeo grounds where the race is taking place, well, at least he's quiet enough that no one could possibly notice.