#but I haven’t been able to just click the few buttons

[thursdayinspace]

ficlet: for as long as it takes (2/2)

Uh, yeah, I made myself sad with the other ficlet this morning, so here's these same two disaster clowns an indeterminate amount of time later. (Apply your own headcanon for how much time they spent apart.) *waves fic at your face* Look! I fixed it! tagging @today-in-fic

Go here for part 1

Part 2:

He’s standing by the kitchen counter about to make coffee when he hears the sound of her car outside. He quickly fills the machine and presses the button while listening to the sounds of her car door closing, her footsteps on the porch, the click of the door opening and closing, and he turns around to greet her with a smile as she crosses the room towards him.

“Hey,” he says. “I’ve just started a fresh pot of coffee.”

“Hi,” she says, smiling back at him. “Thank you. Coffee sounds good. I haven’t had any since this morning.”

He closes the remaining distance between them and leans down as she leans up, their lips meeting in a brief kiss. His heart jumps in his chest at the contact. It’s so little and it means so much. She wraps her arms around his waist and leans her cheek against his chest and he holds her close. The smell of coffee starts filling the room and sunlight is streaming through the windows. They’re not calling these days together “dates” because that’s not what they are. This is them, spending time together, as people in love tend to do.

They take their cups out onto the porch and sit side by side, so close their thighs are touching, and once the coffee is gone he takes her hand and laces their fingers together.

“It’s such a nice day today,” she says.

He agrees. When she pulls him to his feet he takes the opportunity to catch her in a hug and she laughs as she stumbles into him.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggests.

It’s been months of this. They’re spending more days together than apart these days. He rarely visits her at her house; she always insists on coming out here. He doesn’t want to let himself believe that it means something, but he’s never been able to quiet the hope that maybe it does.

She doesn’t let go of his hand.

They used to go for walks all the time when they first moved into the house. Holding onto each other, basking in the freedom of having a real home, a place that was theirs. And then they skipped one walk, then one more, until their walks became rare, until their walks only happened when nothing else would break through their silence.

“We should do this more often,” he says.

She swings their joined hands between them. “We should do this every day.”

“Well, some days there’ll be rain.”

“That’s what raincoats are for.”

He laughs. She laughs with him. There is no rain today. There isn’t a cloud in the sky.

It’s late by the time they make it back to the house, and she takes her shoes off before sinking onto the couch with a pleased sigh. He sits down next to her and she lets herself fall into him, her head on his shoulder. As if this is where she belongs. God, he wants her to belong here. With him. But there’s no rush. They’ve made it this far.

He’ll live with the yearning if this is all they’ll ever have, as long as it means he gets to be near her. What she gives him is enough. It’s more than he dared to hope for. These moments will exist forever and he takes them as the gifts they are.

“Mulder?” she says.

“Yeah?”

She’s quiet for so long he’s starting to think she changed her mind about whatever she was going to say. “I have a bag in the car,” she says at last.

“A bag?”

“A few bags, actually. And a suitcase.”

He frowns. “Are you going somewhere?”

“No.” She pauses, and when she speaks again, her voice is sure and steady. “I was hoping to stay somewhere.”

“Oh.” He sits unmoving, breathes, finally turns his head to meet her eyes. “Where?”

“Here.” She looks straight into his eyes, and there isn’t a hint of hesitation or uncertainty in her gaze. “With you. In our home.”

“Okay,” he says. There’s nothing else to say. It’s been the only answer since the day she left.

She doesn’t ask him if he’s sure. She knows him. He doesn’t ask her if she’s sure either. He knows her too.

“Will you help me bring my bags inside?” she asks.

“Right now?”

“Before it gets dark.”

He can taste the smile in her kiss.

They take their time. It’s an evening that needs to be savored. And once the last of her bags has been unpacked, they end up making out on their bed like they’ve done a thousand times before. With their clothes discarded, she comes to sit on top of him, laughing and squirming as his fingers brush her sides where she’s ticklish. He’s welcoming her home. She’s telling him how glad she is to be back. Her skin is warm under his hands and her hips are rolling in a slow, unhurried rhythm. He’s so deep inside of her and she holds him there, rocking them towards a gentle release.

She takes him with her when she comes and he never wants to be anywhere else than here with her.

He holds her in his arms as their heartbeats slow to normal. He feels like he’s just come home as well.

“Scully?”

She lifts her head. “Yeah?”

“You know how much I love you, right?”

She smiles. “I know,” she says. “I love you too.”

“I know,” he says.

She kisses his tears away and lets him pull her back tightly against him. He wonders how long it will take to marry the memory of their loss with the relief of all that they’ve won. He doesn’t need the past to stop hurting. There’s enough right here and right now, enough future to make new memories, to make a new past that won’t hurt.

He knows she believes that too. He thinks that means they’ll be okay.

[dinosnaurnuggets]

Hmm

[brickwhartley]

Dear People of Tumblr,

I don’t know if you heard the news when it dropped, but I left the sunny island of Clawland in the rearview mirror a few months ago and stepped into a role back here at Tumblr as Chief Officer of Merchandising and Physical Engineering. I’ve been sharing my wares over at my Emporium, and more importantly, you’ve been buying! 

Things have been going so darn well that last night, I had plenty of time to reflect on how far I’ve come. No blockers in my way, KPIs going through the roof, everyone happy with their new mugs and pins and tshirts, and me at the head of it all… everything’s coming up Brick, right? 

But one thing about merchandising is, well, it’s fun, and creative… but there isn’t much clicking. Brick Misses Clicks! 

I thought about how dang popular my little crabby friends were on the dashboard when I was away. Spawning like crazy! There’s no denying it: you kids love those crabs. You’re even spending cold hard cash sending them to each other. 

So, the question was: how to combine that kind of clicktastic feature you know and love, with something new? Something FRESH? 

And then, it hit me!

🦀🐛🧀👻🐴🍪!!!!!!!!!!!!

So I hereby announce that I’m taking temporary leave of my position at the Emporium in order to jump teams and become Tumblr’s Chief Reactions Officer. 

Beginning today, you’ll be able to SLAM those react buttons at the bottom of every Tumblr post to express your emotions. On the web at least. Not in the mobile apps. (I’m a budget whiz, but not that much of a whiz.)

And listen, this is short notice. I haven’t slept all night, putting this together, ever since the idea struck me while stargazing and reflecting on my life and choices. So the actual reactions available to use are limited for now. They were actually just the most recently used emojis in my phone.

But I just know you’ll love them anyway. Because they come from me, BRICK! 

Yours clickfully, 

Brick Whartley Chief Reactions Officer Chief Officer of Merchandising and Physical Engineering (On Leave)

[sturniologals]

Make it up to you -m.s

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆

Dom!Matt x fem!reader

in which~ y/n had a crush on Matt but his friends/football teammates found out and teased you about it, he joined in on the teasing to hide the fact that he has feelings for you but six months later, you’re desperate for a ride to school and Matt is your only option.

warnings~ p in v/ unprotected (don’t be silly,wrap up your willy)/ use of baby, sweetheart, y/n, praise kink, cursing

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

I stretched my limbs as I tried to peel my eyes open from my sleepy state. "y/n! Hurry up!" My mom shouted at me, afraid id miss the bus.

"Frickity frickity Frick" I mumbled to myself as I looked over at my phone and saw the time reading 7:15, my bus runs in literally like 7 minutes, theres no way I was gonna make it. I opened up my contacts and called and texted at least five of my friends in hope that I could get a ride from one of them but I failed.

I clicked on my last contact I was going to try and started to call my friend Nick.

She answered and her soft voice spoke "Hey y/n!"

"Hey Nick! Is there any possible way that you could give me a ride to school today?" She hummed to herself as she thought about it.

"im sorry girl, Matt took my car today. He has some thing after school but I can call him. He should be able to pick you up!" He chimes.

"No no no, id rather walk. Thank you tho." I say before we bid our goodbyes and hang up.

I meant that, i really would rather walk. Matthew sturniolo has been my biggest enemy since last year, when I first started high school and became friends with Nick. I had an obvious crush on matt even though he was a bit older. His friends found out because matt overheard me talking to Nick about it one time and his friends started to tease me about it and eventually matt joined in and ever since then, they make jokes and poke fun at me anytime I see them.

"y/n! Why are you still in your fucking pajamas?" My mom says angrily from my door.

"Mom its okay, matt is gonna give me a ride!" I spurt out quickly, just not wanting to get into an argument with her.

“Matt? oh! It’s been forever since you guys have hung out.” My mom says, her mood quickly changing to a more joyous one. I roll my eyes at her words and she tells me she loves me before she leaves out for work.

I stand up and put on a pair of black jeans and a dark blue body suit that accentuates my body perfectly. I finish straightening my hair, my luscious blonde locks flowing perfectly down my shoulders. I sit down at my vanity and apply a few makeup products, really just mascara, and a bit of highlighter. Mid way through my routine, i remember i haven’t called Matt yet. My hands start to tremble a bit as i scroll through my contacts in search of his name.

I reluctantly click the call button under his name and the ringing of my phone makes me shudder. After just two rings, he picks up.

“Y/n?” His deep voice grumble from the speakers on my phone.

“Hi Matt! Can you give me a ride to school?” I say peppily, not wanting him to give me any shit.

“I’ll be there in five.” He says before hanging up.

well, that was easy. i think to myself before spritzing myself with some perfume and slipping on my shoes. I grab my bag and walk through my house.

I get to the front door and see trey pulling in.

perfect timing.

The sight of Matts truck parked in my driveway makes me nervous. I push the nervousness down, pulling all of the courage i have out of me and I start walking down my driveway.

Once i step out of my door, he immediately steps out of his truck and walks to the passenger side and opens the door up. He stands leaning on the door, a small smile on his face.

why is he being so fucking nice?

“Hi y/n.” He says in a seductive voice while his eyes trail over my body. The way he’s looking at me sends a heat straight to my core but i try my best to ignore it. I shoot Matt a side eye and a nod of my head as i step up into his truck. He places his hand on my lower back for support as i climb into his vehicle which has me crossing my legs in the passenger seat. Matt looks at me with a hungry look in his eyes as he shuts the door for me and walks over to the driver side.

He climbs into the seat and takes a deep breath in before turning the key over.

“Thanks for picking me up.” I say in the most nonchalant way that i can.

“Yeah, i mean- you haven’t talked to me in almost 6 months so i was surprised you’d wanted me to.” Matt says while looking at me, our eye contact holding strong.

“I didn’t have any other choice.” I say with a shrug of my shoulders and i can see the pain flash in his eyes as i finish my sentence off and i immediately feel bad.

“No- I didn’t mean-“ I start to correct myself but he cuts me off.

“I get it y/n. I really do- don’t apologize sweetheart. I’ve been an asshole to you for so long and i let my friends make jokes and i’m just- i’m so fucking sorry. I was a coward because you made me- feel things.” Matt spurts out, his confession surprising me but making my heart skip a beat and my pussy convulse at the name he called me.

“Matt-“ I start to speak but he cuts me off yet again.

“Can you come to my football game tonight?” He asks impatiently as he starts to pull out of my driveway.

“Matt, you know i hate going to school functions.”

“Please” He says quickly.

“Okay, i’ll be there.” I say reluctantly. I don’t even really know why he wants me there but it seems important so i agree.

The rest of the ride is silent, just Matt glancing at me every few minutes and at some point his large hands made their way to my knee, slowly trailing up my thigh as i squirmed around in my seat, Matt glancing at my neediness but his hand never moved to my heat.

“Here you go sweetheart.” Matt says as we pull up next to the busy school entrance.

“Aren’t you coming?” I ask him.

“I’ll be here later.” He says with a small smile as he unbuckles my seat belt for me and walks around to open my door. His truck is raised high off of the ground but Matt is so tall that his head is still up to my level when he’s standing on the ground in-front of me. He puts his hands around my waist and picks me up out of his truck. I giggle as he sits me down on the ground. He chuckles and tells me he’ll see me later.

As i walk into school, all that’s going through my head is Matt.

the things he said to me were definitely more than ‘friendly’

why is he being so nice?

is this another joke?

the way his hands were all over me tho…

sweetheart?

why does he want me at his game tonight?

i made him feel things?

what things?

i spend the rest of my school day and the whole ride home and the whole time i’m getting ready for the football game also thinking about Matt. The thoughts about him in my head are inevitably erotic and i genuinely can’t help it.

My mom drops me off at the game and i pull at the tight shorts on my legs as i hop out of the car. I walk up into the bleachers and i find a seat that gives me a perfect view of the field. Matt comes out of now where and runs up to the fence that separates us.

“c’mere!” he says loudly, i can see his friends behind him starting to laugh and i get nervous and all of memories of them poking fun at me make me sick and i want to run out of there.

“y/n baby, i said to come here.” Matt demands in a soothing yet firm voice that makes me feel safe. His friends behind him starts staring and looking confused. I am too but i listen to try and walk over to stand over the fence. His eye black is starting to smudge and his hair is tousled perfectly and i’m so close that i can smell his manly musk.

As soon as i’m standing slightly over Matt, he pulls his hands up to my head and pulls me down to him and immediately shoves his lips onto mine. The feeling of his mouth moving over mine is something i’ve wanted to feel for so fucking long. I groan into his mouth as his tongue slips into mine and i can taste the saltiness of his mouth and i’m

craving more. I audibly groan when he pulls away, his lips swollen and pink as he runs back to the field. His friends just staring at him angrily and confused as he flips them off and walks down the field with a smile on his face.

what the fuck just happened?

and why is his whole football team staring at me?

Matt yells at his friends from across the field.

“hey! shitheads! stop staring at my girl and get your asses down here.”

I get butterflies at him calling me ‘his girl’ but then i remember the months of teasing he let his friends do to me and i wipe the smile off of my face quickly. Maybe i should let myself enjoy this tho?

Throughout the whole game, my internal monologue argues with itself. By the end of the game, i decide i want to give him a chance. I believe what he told me. Matt sweaty figure runs up to the fence at the end of the game, they won of course. I’m clapping and smiling at Matt, his eyes looking directly into mine. He puts his arms out over the fence and motions for me to walk over. I do so and he puts his hands on my waist and picks me up over the fence and pulls me onto the field. I smile up at him and he immediately kisses me again.

His friends and even his coach “oooo”-ing at us as he gives me a desperate yet gentle kiss.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since you showed up to my house with your fucking sparkly pink jump rope for cheer practice almost two years ago.” he whispers into my ear as he pulls away. My face goes red with embarrassment.

“You played good.” I say with a proud smile.

He flashes his white teeth at me before one of his friends, jacob, comes up behind Matt. i sigh and immediately get nervous because jacob was one of the main people who teased me. Matt looks over at jacob with sharp eyes, as if he’s warning him to not say anything to me. Jacob just smiles at me. “I’m sorry y/n, i was a dick to you and owen for a long time.”

I nod with a small thin lipped smile.

“you wanna get out of here sweetheart?” owen says to me. I nod my head and he smiles at me as he takes my hand and walks us out of the stadium.

as we walk through the busy parking lot, murmurs from people in our small town are heard.

“ew he’s like- old as fuck.”

“didn’t he literally bully her?”

i block out the noise, Matt squeezing my hand as a sign of comfort.

We get into his truck and i immediately look over at him. “Matt. why?”

he looks at me confusedly. “why what?”

“why did you want me to come tonight?” i ask timidly. He laughs out loud and i grow confused.

“you’re oblivious. I wanted you here tonight so i could kiss you in front of all of the assholes who used to give you shit.” he says with a genuine smile of happiness as he rubs his hand up and down my leg.

“Oh.” I say quietly as it clicks in my head. “Oh!” i say once i get it.

“cmon sweetheart it’s late. i’ll get you home.” Matt says as he reaches over to buckle my seatbelt for me, his long fingers grazing over my chest. Butterflies erupt in my stomach and heat grows between my legs as owen starts his truck and pulls out of the parking lot. His hand is resting on my thigh and quiet music plays, my window cracked slightly allowing some of the cold friday night breeze to flow through the cab of his truck. Every smidge of cold air that hits my skin makes me shudder. My body is extremely sensitive to the touch right now. I look over at owen and his dark eyes are trained on his hand that’s resting on my leg. “you’re so beautiful y/n.” Matt says in a low, seductive voice as his thumb draws circles on my inner thigh.

“pull over.” I say nervously, trying to muster up all of the courage that i have. Matt smirks, knowing what i want as he pulls over by an empty desolate park by some trees that offer a good enough coverage. As soon as he shifts into park, i immediately swing my legs over his lap so i’m straddling. My lips are on his in a hot, sweaty and passionate kiss. The smell of sweat and grass still on Matt makes me impossibly needier.

All of a sudden- Matt pulls my face back.

“Patience baby.” Matt says with an attractive chuckle.

“you’re not gonna fucking tease me all day and then tell me to have patience Matt.” i say firmly as i slowly start to rock my hips back and forth on him, making him groan out.

“oh- don’t- god, y/n.” he says as he throws his head back and shuts his eyes in pleasure as his eyebrows knit together.

“Nuh uh, you owe me six months worth of apologies. You’re gonna be the one making me feel good, yeah?” i say deviously as i cease my movements. Matt eyes open up and meet mine, a smile playing across his features as he laughs and nods his head yes.

“i guess you’re right about that one sweetheart.” he says as he quickly puts a hand on my back and turns me so my back is against the passenger door of his truck as he pulls my ankles up to his shoulders. I groan out as i arch my back needily.

“calm down pretty girl. let me take care of you.” he says softly as he pulls my shorts down my hips. His eyes clench shut together for a second. “you’re so perfect.” he praises as he starts to kiss up my thighs.

“Matt…” i moan out as he gets closer to my core.

he starts to kiss over my clothed cunt before slowly pulling my panties down.

“you’re so soaked. all because of me?” he speaks seductively as i bring my fingers up to his hair and pull his head closer to my pussy impatiently. He laughs out loud before licking a stripe up me which pulls a loud moan out of me. His tongue moves against me quickly and skillfully, pulling more and more noises from me.

“Oh you’re doing so good for me sweetheart.” He says against my cunt before ducking on my bundle of nerves.

“Matt- i’m gonna-“ i pant out, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Finish in my mouth, let me taste you.” he says, which sends me over the edge, screaming his name as his head gets squeezed between my clenching thighs.

I pant out as i come down from my high as owen continues to lick me clean like a starved man.

“good?” he asks with an egotistical expression on his face.

“i’ve had better.” i say sarcastically with a shrug.

“Yeah i bet.” he says as he pulls my shorts back up my legs for me.

I sit up straight and fix my hair in his mirror before i buckle my seat belt and Matt starts to drive again.

“y/n” Matts deep voice speaks out, diverting my attention to him.

“hm?” I hum out.

“I love you.” he says with a small nervous smile on his face. My stomach immediately erupts in butterflies and a smile forms on my face.

“I love you too.” I say as i intertwine my fingers with his.

[joshs-big-toe]

I triple dog dare you to write Josh futterman getting caught jerking off to a pic of y/n!!!!

Heyyy bbg I am SOOOO sorry this took me so long to get to this request, I have been dealing with final exams and tbh mental health? Down the drain lmao. I do have a fic similar to this, so if you want to read that one it is linked HERE!! I am still going to write a similar concept, however, I will change it up a little bit! I hope that you still enjoy it!

cw: smut, male masturbation, female masturbation, fluff

word count: 1,445

Being around Josh Futturman is this strange mix of contradictions that you can't quite wrap your head around. On one hand, he's this total loser, but you can't help but be infatuated with him. It's like he's the king of awkward, yet there's this undeniable charisma that draws you in. And then there's the whole "Biotic Wars" thing – he's legit addicted to that game. You can't help but roll your eyes when he starts rambling about how close he was to beating the game, but there's something oddly cute about his enthusiasm. Lately, though, there's this other layer to your friendship that you can't shake off – a subtle flutter in your chest when he laughs or those lingering looks that neither of you acknowledges. You knew you were far gone when it came to Josh, but you also knew you refused to risk your friendship with him, so you kept silent.

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

Your shift came to a close and you started gathering your things when the buzzing of your phone made you jump. You looked down, seeing Josh’s name on the screen, making you smile. You pick up, greeted by the distant sounds of explosions ad gunfire – the unmistakable sounds of “Biotic Wars.” You rolled your eyes.

“Hey, y/n, what are you doing?” There was a tiredness in his voice.

“I just got off of work, I’m about to head home. What’s up with you?” You responded, realizing that it was kind of a stupid question.

“Ah, you know, same old. Just killing these biotics left and right. You should join me sometime.” You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Maybe someday, but probably not,” he groans in a mocking way. “You wanna hang out today? Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” he says, clearly distracted. “You can um – ah fuck you! Sorry, not you, I just died.” He laughed. “You can come to my place, that sound alright?” The frantic clicking of buttons started up in the background, accompanied by gunshots and occasional explosions.

“Yeah your place works,” you remark. “What time?” There was a silence from Josh, leaving the sounds of the game in the background. “Josh?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled. “How does 6 sound? It gives you a chance to get out of your work clothes and me a chance to go through a few more levels.” Clearly, he was more focused on the game.

“That works, I’ll grab pizza for us. Usual?” He ‘mhmm’s’ in response your question. “Cool, I’ll see you then.” He says a quick goodbye, hanging up quickly after. You sigh, grabbing your bag and keys, making your way to your car to head home.

---------

You looked at your watch, the time reading 5:42. You were typically early. Josh always left his door unlocked whenever he knew you were coming over, so you were able to walk right in. You set your bag and the pizza box on the dining table, looking up the stairs. You couldn’t hear his game playing, however you did hear noises from up the stairs. You walk up the stairs quietly, wanting to sneak up on him. Noticing his door was cracked, you took a peak in. Your breath caught in your through, letting out a soft gasp at what you were greeted with. On his computer monitor, your Instagram was pulled up, a photo of you at the beach on the screen. A heat started pooling in your core with the sight in front of you: Josh was in his gaming chair, jeans around his ankles, quickly stroking his dick. His head was lulled back, eyes half closed and tongue poking out of his mouth slightly. You stayed silent, watching his hand moved up in down in a needy pace, whimpers escaping his throat as he continued. He switched hands, shaking the one he was previously using, making you think he had been at this for a while. You bit your lower lip, your arousal becoming overwhelming. You start to think, there's no harm in touching myself too, right? With that, you quietly sit down on the floor, leaning against his doorframe. You took a look over your shoulder, making sure you did not alert Josh that you were there. You were in the clear. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Carefully, you dip your hand down into your sweatpants, past your underwear and down to your heat. You leaned your head back against the door frame as you grazed your clit, biting on your lip to stifle any noise threatening your lips. Your eyes closed, taking in the whimpers and words coming from Josh as he continued stroking his cock. Your fingers dipped down into your heat, making you sigh. Your mind was completely clouded with the thought of your fingers being replaced by Josh’s, making a heat pool in your lower belly.

“F-fuck, y/n,” you heard Josh whimper out, making you that much closer to your own release. You circled your clit, letting out your own soft moans at this point, unable to contain them with the pleasure you were feeling. You heard Josh’s moans get more erratic as kept going, insinuating that he was close. You sped up your movements, rubbing and fingering your wet heat, finally bringing yourself to your release. You cover your mouth with your free hand, doing your best to stifle your moans, leaning your head back against the door frame and screwing your eyes shut. You sit there for a moment, catching your breath before glancing inside Josh’s room, not seeing him on his gaming chair anymore. You stand up on wobbly legs, composing yourself. You knock on his door, pushing it open.

“Hey Josh, I’m here,” you call out with a shaky voice. You hoped he wouldn’t notice. You looked at his computer, your picture no longer up. Josh was standing at his shelf, now wearing sweatpants. He turned to look at you, a smile making its way onto his face. His cheeks were a light flush of red.

“Hey!” His voice was cheerful as he made his way over to his bed. You go in, sitting next to you. He leaned in to hug you, you immediately hugging back. He moved his head to where his lips were next to your ear. “Did you like what you saw?” His voice was low and gravely. Your eyes widened, quickly pulling away from the hug to look at him. He looked nervous, his face a darker red than before. This honestly probably took a lot of confidence to say, especially for him.

“W-what?” You stutter out.

“You heard me,” he grinned.

“I um, you saw?” He just nodded. “How much?”

“Most of it, watching you is what actually made me,” he paused. “You know,” he looked away, clearly nervous now. You guess his confidence wore off.

“I-I’m sorry if I made things weird I just-” he cut you off, connecting his lips to yours gently. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, pulling him more into the kiss. You pull away, looking into his eyes.

“Y/n, I’ve been into you for years. You just never showed me any signs of anything, so I stayed quiet about it.” You smiled.

“honestly, josh? I have too. I was just scared.”

“You sure didn’t seem scared five minutes ago,” he smirked. You grumbled, flicking the back of his head. “You were also early, you were never supposed to see or know anything.” You shrugged.

“Well, I do now.” He looked down.

“So what now?” He said, joy and curiosity in his voice. You thought for a moment.

“well, theres pizza downstairs-“

“no, not right now, dumbass. In general. Us. What now.”

“oh,” you blushed. “You could be a gentleman and ask me on a real date, you know.” You teased him. He rolled his eyes, hiding the smile that crept onto his face.

“Sorry, sorry. Y/n, would you like to go on a date with me?” A smile lingered on his lips. You pretend to think for a moment.

“I guess, but lets just eat pizza and watch a movie tonight, how does that sound?” He nodded.

“I’ll go get the pizza,” he planted a kiss on your cheek before he left the room. You laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. You couldn’t believe what just happened, and frankly you were embarrassed. But you’re secrets out now and it feels good, especially knowing that he had feelings for you too. You let your eyes flutter shut, taking a deep breath, anticipating what may come within this newfound relationship that may be forming.

OMG thank you for being patient with me. I hope this is good, I honestly struggled with this one a lot for some reason, but if you enjoyed it, im glad. Have a beautiful day everyone :)

[evanbuckleyrecs]

Any recommendations on hurt-comfort Buddie that will make you cry? HEA please!

I started to answer this but accidentally clicked on a Tumblr link so I gotta start over 😂

I haven't read Buddie fics in a while so these are a bit older. (I'm going to catch up soon! I've just been in a phase where I'm either reading Teen Wolf fics or physical books)

Also haven't updated my bookmarks yet. Sadly a lot of great authors I'd normally recommend have turned anti-Buddie since April and I'd rather not promote them in Buddie posts if they're not safe to follow anymore as a Buddie fan.

Please check the tags of a fic before reading in case something is triggering for you!

the things that haunt me in the middle of the night by justhockey

2,4k, rated G

He gasps for breath and it feels like a reflex - like coming up for air after being sucked under. Like a desperate, manic thing.

He’s safe, he knows that. Knows he was never really in much danger anyway. But the sound of it all - the waves, the rain, the crashing and the thundering - it echoes in his head, ricochets through his bones. It lives inside of him, he guesses, even after all these years. That fear, the exhaustion, the crippling terror of finding the surface only to realise that Christopher was gone.

He rubs at his sternum, tries to breathe deeply, tries to blink away the memories of the day the water nearly took everything from him.

I let my guard down by bucksclipboard

6,5k, rated M

"It didn’t stop. Buck went from hoping the packages were from someone special to suspecting someone was toying with him. The hopeless romantic in him was slowly wilting. When he opened the latest letter, suddenly he was not so sure his secret admirer was of the good-natured kind. "

or: who needs police protection when you have eddie diaz by your side?

Cut me slack (I've watched your heart stop) by kat_atthewisco

Rated G, 5,4k

“Well, unfortunately I am calling you specifically for your role as Mr. Buckley’s power of attorney. He does need a couple of decisions made about his care that he’s not fit for at the moment. If you’re able to get here soon that would be best, I can’t tell you much over the phone.” To her credit, Deirdre does sound apologetic, and Eddie’s panic has begun to ratchet back up.

“I’ll be there as fast as I can, is he- please, how bad?” Eddie repeats.

In which Eddie gets The Call from Cedars-Sinai while he's off work thanks to a healing injury. Being Buck's emergency contact is suddenly a very real thing.

Never More To Leave Here by devirnis

Rated T, 10,2k

"Can you remind my brother that we were supposed to get lunch?” Maddie asks.

“Uh sure,” Eddie says slowly, confused. “But why don’t you just call him yourself?”

“I did, a couple times, but he didn’t answer. I assumed he was still with you?”

Eddie thinks back to last night, to Buck specifically making plans to go back to his own place so he wouldn’t be late for lunch with Maddie. Buck had texted him when he got home, just a simple night :) that still made Eddie’s heart flutter, so obviously Buck had made it back to the loft… But there haven’t been any texts from Buck all morning. Not that that is necessarily unheard of, but especially over the last few weeks it’s become rarer and rarer for even a few hours to go by without Eddie’s phone dinging with a message notification from Buck.

A small tendril of worry curls around Eddie’s ribs.

BTHB: locked up & left behind

Diagnosis: Dumbass by snarkymuch

Rated T, 2,7K

Christopher scrunched his face, then stopped rummaging through his pack to grab something from the ground—something that turned out to be his phone.

“No, nope—who do you think you’re calling?” he asked, trying to reach for it, but Christopher had already hit the button, dialing someone—whom he’d bet anything was his father.

Christopher pulled away, out of reach, phone to his ear, then a moment later saying, “Yeah, I’m okay, dad—yeah, I know—no, but he fell out of a tree—”

“He is fine, though!” Buck yelled, hoping to stop the inevitable freakout from Eddie. “Eddie, do you hear me? I’m fine!”

--or--

Buck takes Chris out for a light hike, somehow ends up falling out of a tree, and Chris patches him up while waiting for his dad to arrive.

Presumed Dead by inkonmyheartandonthepage

Rated G, 4,4K

The fresh air was supposed to have been good for Buck. A small hike that he had done a million times. A nice hike that gave him a workout and at the same time allowed him to sift through his thoughts and feelings and to focus on what he really wanted.

Instead, he’s stuck in the middle of nowhere at a rest stop watching some asshole drive away in his jeep.

OR

The 118 crew arrive a fender bender only to find it's Buck's jeep on fire and the body inside dead and burning.

The monsters turned out to be just trees by Ink_Dancer

Rated T, 8,4k

Buck and Eddie are searching for a missing person, and they're already lost in the woods when Buck gets injured and makes their situation a lot more complicated. With the sun going down, they're forced to spend the night outside, with only each other for warmth and shelter.

(set post-buck's recovery from the firetruck, but no other specific time markers. nebulously within the show's canon.)

It's what my rotting bones will sing when the rest of me is dead by heartbeatdiaz

Rated T, 12,4k

"Eddie? Eds, can you hear me?” Buck rubs his knuckles against Eddie's sternum, a little too harsh, a little too desperate. "Eddie!"

Eddie croaks out a weak, barely there, whine as Buck's knuckles do the trick and his eyes open in slits.

"Evan?" He chokes out, his voice so hoarse and raspy that it must have been hurting his throat. "You're real?" He whispers in awe, his hand twitching as his side like he wants to reach up to Buck— touch his face— but he's too weak to do that. Eddie's brow furrowed but a small smile graces his lips, barely there. "I didn't give up. I made it home to you."

or;

the one where a call goes wrong and leaves everyone thinking eddie was dead, buck finds about the will through a letter and comes to some other revelations in the process.

and in which eddie finds his way back home and finally gets to be happy with the love of his life.

BTHB Prompt: Missing and Presumed Dead

Let me go by tawaifeddiediaz

Rated T, 8,1K

For the first time since he met him, he wasn’t sure where Buck was, and it was driving him insane. His shift ended three hours later than Eddie on Tuesdays, and today, he had texted saying that he was going to pick up groceries.

After that, he hadn’t returned back home.

Kindness: What Connects Us by FandomLife54

Rated T, 9,6k

Still off balance, Buck slams his left heel onto the roof, heaving forward to catch the collar of that yellow shirt. And there’s no conscious decision making here. It’s all instinct, and he’s grateful for it. If he’d given his overzealous mind the chance to consider another way, he would have missed his shot. Instead, his arms hurl the boy into the hands of another survivor...

And his right foot misses the edge.

OR

Buck catches Chris before he rolls off the firetruck, and it's him who falls back into the retreating waters of the tsunami. Unconscious and seriously injured, he's unaware that his team has been searching for him, never giving up as the days pass.

A leaf falls on loneliness by iimpossible_things

Not rated, 11,1k

Buck doesn’t think that if he were to say, “I’m in a bad place”, that anyone would turn him away. Really, he doesn’t. The 118 has too many good, kind people for that.

But every time he wants to open his mouth, to say something, to reach out to Eddie or Bobby or Hen or Chim, he hears Eddie yelling, “you’re exhausting.”

—you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting—

So each day he does his job and he laughs and he jokes and he pretends he’s the care-free goofball he’s always been. And each day he packs away his bruises and his worries, takes them home to his empty loft with its quiet rooms, and licks his wounds in silence.

And I watched a part of myself die 'cause no amount of freedom gets you clean by himbobuckley

WARNING: rape/non-con. Rated T, 10,2K

Buck goes out drinking after a particularly tragic call and the night takes a turn for the worse when he's targeted and assaulted. Struggling in the aftermath and unsure how to handle it, Buck tries to distance himself from his friends and family, believing that with time he can simply move past it on his own. Eddie notices something is wrong with Buck and desperately tries to get through to his friend, fearing the worst.

or:

Buck goes through the fucking ringer. eddie notices something's horribly wrong. you can contact my lawyer for emotional damages.

or:

“I heard about what happened yesterday,” Eddie says softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. And that I didn’t know. I should’ve gone out with you, or made you come over, or-”

“Eddie,” Buck interrupts. “It’s- it’s okay. I just went out drinking. It’s fine.”

“Drinking alone?”

“Yeah,” he stammers. “Yeah, alone.”

“Hey listen, why don’t you come over tonight? We can do a movie night. And… I have something to tell you.”

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” Buck murmurs, feeling the tears welling up again. “I don’t think I can tonight.”

“Hey, wait Buck-”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Blue skies by spaceprincessem

36,7k, rated T

“Most babies are born as accidents,” She says suddenly, like she’s decided that Buck has passed, that she can trust him with this.

Buck doesn’t really have an answer because that question hits way to fucking close to home. A year or so ago he would have said, yes, I was an accident, so I know how that goes, but Buck knows better now. Knows that he would almost give anything for that answer to still be yes. Evie’s finger works under the seal to rip it open, a stack of important looking papers dumping out onto the table in front of her.

“Not me,” she says without looking up as she organizes them into a neat stack, “I was engineered.”

And.

And Buck’s pretty fucking sure a giant, cataclysmic hole has ripped right open, dragging him down to the earth’s core where he vaporizes into dust.

{or Buck meets another savior baby and everything comes crashing down}

Leave The Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by HMSLusitania

Rated M, 44,4k, fandom classic

“We’re here for our grandson,” Helena says.

“Chris is still sleeping,” Buck says.

“I meant, we’re here to take him back to Texas,” Helena clarifies.

“Yeah,” Buck says. He’s too tired, way too tired to be tactful. “Over my dead body.”

--

An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is... missing presumed.

While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home.

Over The Age, Over Again by mintedwitcher

Rated E, 16,5k

EXCERPT:

He would’ve fallen down the cliffside if it hadn’t been for Bobby on the winch. Because that… that’s Buck’s jeep. There’s no denying it, no mistaking it. That is Buck’s jeep. Hanging almost sideways off a ledge, the driver’s side doors flung open with the force of the fall. And further down… no. No it can’t be… a man, smashed against the rocks. A massive pool of blood. But Eddie can see the familiar white sneakers against the dirt.

No Sight For Heart Eyes by znks

Rated E, 20,5k

“Buck, Karen, and Eddie stayed on the couch and talked while the kids settled on the floor to draw. It all felt so wonderfully normal that Eddie found himself forgetting that he hadn’t just closed his eyes in serenity as he leaned against Buck.

That’s what made the spell breaking so painful.

“Dad! Look! I drew the firetru- Oh, wait, it’s okay you can see it when you’re all better!” Christopher said it so cheerfully, not even hesitating before going back to swapping out pens with Denny.

But Eddie felt it like a shot to the chest.

He couldn’t see his son’s drawings.

Buck and Karen had barely paused in the conversation, but Eddie could hear how strained it became, both of them obviously knowing exactly how heartbreaking the moment had been. Buck’s arm wrapped more tightly around Eddie’s waist, chin resting on his shoulder.”

losing your sight for a week sucks but at least eddie has buck to guide him through his healing or at least through his own house

This has inspired me to go read more recent hurt/comfort Buddie fics! I haven't been super active on this account but hopefully I can update this soon :)

[leilakisakabiri]

She’s The Man (Gavi)

Summary: You make Gavi watch one of your comfort movies and he can’t help but get invested. 

Warning(s): None, domestic fluff.

A/N: Please send requests if you have any. Also, holy shit guys 575 likes on my last post and counting, you all deserve the world. Thank you so much. 

Word Count: [957]

Masterlist

“Y/n no please.” Gavi groaned on the couch next to you, watching as you turned on your favorite comfort movie.

“What? It just came on Netflix, there’s no way I can’t watch it.” You protested, fingers already pressing the play button.

He groaned again, his body sinking further down into the cushions, “This is so girly!”

You huffed, “Oh c’mon you haven’t even seen it. You’ll love it. Plus, it has football in it.” You tried to get him interested in the film but to no avail.

This whole thing had started after Gavi had decided to come over to your apartment after practice. The two of you had been dating for the last few months and had gotten to the point in your relationship where instead of always going out and doing something, you would sometimes stay in, opting to order takeout and watch movies.

That, however, led to a host of petty arguments as the two of you always fought about what to watch, having completely different tastes in movies. While Gavi liked watching action or comedy movies, you loved horror or the occasional romcom.

I mean c’mon who wouldn’t want to watch a man written by a women?

“Ok let’s watch this tonight, and next time you can pick.” You suggested.

“Fine, but I’m not watching, I’ll just lay here. Bored.” He responded, looking over at you with puppy dog eyes.

You squinted your eyes at him before turning back to the TV, “Sounds good to me.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes as he shifted to move closer to you, wrapping an arm around you as the movie started, leaning his head on your shoulder, and closing his eyes.

You were immediately engrossed in the movie, watching as Amanda Bynes transformed into a guy.

You were barely twenty minutes into the movie when Gavi spoke up, “Does she really think that’s going to work, it’s so obvious she’s a girl!”

You turned to him, “I thought you were sleeping?”

You saw him close his eyes the second you turned to look at him and went to call him out but decided against it.

“I’m trying but I can still hear the movie.”

“Right.” You responded, focusing your attention back on the TV.

Another 30 minutes passed, and you were sure Gavi was asleep when he spoke again during a particularly intense scene, causing you to jump at the sudden noise.

“Wait why doesn’t Viola just tell Duke the truth?” He asked, voice breaking the silence, as he moved to pause the movie.

“I thought you weren’t watching?” You questioned.

“I’m not.”

“Ok.”

You left the conversation at that refocusing your attention and clicking play.

“…But why though?”

“Gavi are you watching or not?” You asked, fed up with pausing the movie so many times.

“Ok maybe. It’s kinda good.” He admitted.

You gave him a grin, leaning over hug his side, “See I told you.”

“Yeah, whatever, just play the movie.”

You laughed, starting the movie again.

Gavi’s fingers softly rubbed circles on your shoulder as you watched, and you leaned into him getting a whiff of his cologne.

Damn this boy smelled so good, especially for coming over straight after practice.  

You felt your tummy flip as he turned to look at you, your faces millimeters apart. From your position, you could make out the flecks of brown in his eyes, and the scrunch of his eyebrows as he looked down at you.

“You good?” He asked, voice soft.

You nodded giving him a kiss on the cheek, “You’re just so pretty.”

You saw him blush, a pink hue spreading on his cheeks, as he turned to the side with a smile, not being able to hide it, “Stop Y/n.”

You giggled, pulling him closer to you, wrapping your leg around his, basking in his warmth.

It was quiet for the rest of the movie, until the last ten minutes.

You felt Gavi unwrap himself from you as he leaned forward, gesturing wildly at the TV, “This movie is ridiculous. Since when does football have parkour?”

You laughed at his outburst, finding it funny how aggravated he was, complaining about a teen girl romcom not being an accurate portrayal of football.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know, I think it makes the game more exciting, and it looks cool.”

He turned to look at you with a deadpan expression, “Oh really? Well then in that case excuse me I have to go learn how to do a backflip off the goal post for the next game.” He muttered sarcastically.

You let out a loud laugh, “Now that is a good idea. Maybe then you would win more games.”

His eyes widened comically, and he gave you the most offended look, “You did not just say that.”

“I’m sorry, it was just too easy.” You let out between laughs.

He rolled his eyes, moving away from you on the couch, crossing his arms.

“You’re a great player.” You spoke again.

“You have to say that you’re my girlfriend.” He muttered.

“No, for real, I mean it.” You finally pulled yourself together, looking at him.

“Swear?” He made eye contact with you, and you could feel a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you willed yourself to remain serious.

You always laughed at the worst times.

“Swea-“ Your voice broke at the end of the word and you had to hide your smile behind your hands, not being able to look at him with a straight face.

“Y/n.” He whined throwing a cushion at you, as you sank further into the couch, not being able to get the picture of Gavi doing a backflip off the goalpost out of your head.

[simp2537]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔉𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔄𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔢

A/n: We get a look into Alice!reader’s background.

Word Count : 682

Trigger Warnings: Gore, Blood, Horror, Cursing, Child Abuse, Human experiments, Child abandonment, Angst, Depression, Anxiety, PTSD, Insomnia, etc

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓

Y/n sat closed eyed on the ground of the Todoroki residence. Shoto attacked  Y/n but thorn covered vines blocked his every move. Shoto groans in annoyance as frost begins to cover his body. As the pair continued to spar, Enji watched with Aizawa from Enji’s office. 

His turquoise eyes remaining in Y/n as Shoto attacked the sitting girl. She didn’t even need to move, her thorns would just attack. In her mind she was at a tea party with Hatter as he helped her levitate the cups. 

“Enji what am I doing here?” Aizawa questioned him as he sat cross armed. Enji turned back to Aizawa with an annoyed expression.

“I found another WonderCorps facility a week ago. I was able to keep the sidekicks from asking questions it, I found something.”

“What’d you find?”

Enji pulled out a tape and held it up. 

Trial 43

Subject 108

WonderCorps

Aizawa stared at the tape for a while till he realized he’d stood up and was holding the tape. 

“You’ve watched it already haven’t you? That’s why I’m here.”

Enji didn’t answer, his face remaining stern and without emotion. Enji took the tape gently and put it into the computer on his desk. 

As the tape turned in a tall man with brown hair, square rimed glasses and dressed in a lab coat turned on the tape camera. He took a few notes that looks at the camera.

“I am Touji Daigo but I’m know as Dr. Glass. Head of WonderCorps.”

Dr. Glass clicked a small clicker and lights in another glass room. In the glass room sat a younger Y/n. She barely look five. 

She was dressed in simple grey sweatpants and black shirt. Her feet were bare and her hands bruised. Dr. Glass focus the camera on Y/n.

Y/n looked up front he ground and waved softly at the camera. 

“This is experiment 108, and this is trial 43.” Dr. Glass fixed his glasses.

“Yesterday we conducted trial 42 and the results were less then stellar. 108 barely was able to control her environment. The underling almost was able to permanently injure 108.” As Dr. Glass spoke Y/n stood from the ground. 

Aizawa gasped in shock as the younger Y/n stood. Her arms were covered in bandages, her left eyes was blackened and bruised, but there was a small smile on her face. A small glass door opened and a strange creature walked out. 

It was misshapen on all ends, black goo dripped out of it staining the floor. Aizawa watched as Y/n’s face molded into one of pity and sadness. The aching look in her eyes felt no question that she felt a great sense of pity for the creature. It was colorful underneath the black goo.

Doctor. Glass leaned down into his mic.

“Go on Alice.” Y/n turned herself around in terror. She shook her head hurriedly as she shuffled.

“No! It’s sad! It’s hurting!” She cried and Doctor Glass sighed softly. He pressed a few buttons and eleactricons began to him in the room shocking the creature and Y/n. They both fell as the electricity pricked at their skin. 

After a few moments the creature began to warp and screech. Slowly it turned into a large mass of terror. Its eyes were white and it seemed to move on command. It began to attack Y/n throwing her around like a rag doll.

Aizawa stood from his seat stepping towards the monitor. His eyes shot to the window outside just as Y/n vanished into thin air. Shoto continued trying to catch Y/n but just as he’s almost grasp her she was gone.

“Turn it off.” Enji shock his head and pointed at the monitor.

“You need to see this.” Aizawa turned back to the monitor arms crossed and defensive.

Blood covered the room as Y/n lay in a bundle was what must have been her own blood. She cough violently as she push herself onto her arms. Doctors Glass rolled his eyes softly and pulled  the mic up.

“Alice! Get up or I get subject 109 to do it.” Y/n’s eyes shot yo and she pushed herself off the ground. She panted, covered in her own blood.

“NO!” She yelled once. A mass of different lights shines from her hands as she shot a bolt as the creature. It’s screeched in agony as it dissipated into nothing. Y/n panted softly as her eyes rolled back into her skull. Doctor Glass rushed into the room, an almost fearful look.

Thorn covered vines launched out of the ground cold concrete wrapping protectively around Y/n. The vines drew more of her blood but cradled her like a small baby. Doctor Glass frozen as he watched the vines wrap around Y/n.

“Doctor Vane! End the tape!” The screen cut to black.

“She killed that thing was a bolt of lightning.” Aizawa couldn’t hear his fellow hero. His eyes trapped in the black screen.

“That wasn’t lightning, I’ve seen something like that before.” Enji quirked his head in confusion. He steeped towards the window as he watched the two children.

“When we found her, behind her the portal looked like that. All the colors mixed together in the metal conductor.” Enji nodded softly. Aizawa was the only one who saw this mysterious portal, it had shut itself down when they’d all arrived.

Outside Shoto was panting as Y/n appeared in front of him. He growled softly as he blasted as much ice as he could muster at her. The ice barricaded around her encapsulating her in a dome like structure. 

Shoto panted triumphantly as he sat on the ground. Colors of all shades began to shine into the air from inside of the dome. Aizawa moved to next to Enji as the dome exploded into fractions of ice.

The multi-colored lights surrounded Y/n as she levitated just above the ground. Sharp blade of ice blazed towards shoto as a bolt it turning it to a mass of butterflies. Shoto panted as his back hit the ground in exhumation.

Y/n allowed her shadow to covered him as she sat next to him. Not a drop of sweat on her. Her tea pot and cups appeared and she pour some tea for Shoto. She stirred in some yellow sugar and red milk into the  tea. The drink turned into a deep royal blue as she brought the cup to his lips.

Both adults ran outside to check on the two child as Shoto finished up his cup. Y/n helped him sit up with a bright smile. Shoto tiredly opened his eyes to stare at her in bewilderment. Her arms crashed around Shoto’s frame with a wide smile. Shoto slowly wrapped one tired arm around her.

“You’ve gotten better.” Y/n whispered as their parents arrived. The small smile the pair shared caused a figure in the shadows to smile softly. The sun shined down on his armor as a familiar portal opened and he walked through.

Y/n’s eyes shot to the shadows, feeling the energy grow and dissipate. Her brows furrowed as she looked back at Shoto. She held him as her father knelt down with Enji.

She’d felt that power before, and she wasn’t sure if she was happy for the moment of comforting familiarity or if she was angry that power was still surviving. 

[heich0e]

tags: yakuza!suna/escort!reader the prequel(ish), icymi here's PART 1 + PART 2 series masterlist

The car pulls up along the back of the club just past ten o’clock.

It had rained earlier in the evening, though you'd fortunately missed most of the shower. The world passing outside the windows of the car is still soaked with it, and puddles pool in the divots of the road as the water trickles slowly towards the storm drains that line the street.

“Thank you, Toma,” you say to your driver as you reach for the handle to let yourself out, and in the front seat the kindly man dips his head in response.

“Would you like me to wait to drop you home?” he asks, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror positioned along the highest centre point of the windshield. “I haven’t got another ride for a half an hour.”

“I have to drop my take-home off to the office and get my payout, and the trains are still running, but thank you,” you assure him with a shake of your head. You smile at him in the rearview mirror as you pop the door open. You hesitate just before you slip out, leaning up towards the front seat. “Drive safe tonight.”

You have to step around puddles as you approach the staff entrance to the club, the water collecting every few steps along the craggy surface of the alley. You hear a voice filtering down the dingy alleyway from up ahead, and it makes you slow ever so slightly. It’s familiar, and as you round the corner to the door, you recognize why.

Kaito stands just beside the metal door with ‘STAFF ENTRANCE ONLY’ emblazoned across it peeling white paint. He’s ditched the suit jacket you’d seen him wearing earlier in the evening, left in his black dress shirt with the first few buttons undone and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The flickering light above the door catches on the garish chain he wears around his neck, glinting at you as Kaito holds his cellphone up to his ear, lost in his conversation.

“Of course, sir. I understand,” he says, and though his voice is as insincerely pleasant as ever, his face is contrastingly grim—the affectation of charm extending only to that which the caller on the other line is able to witness. You watch as Kaito pushes a hand through his carefully-styled hair in frustration, tousling the dark strands, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s not last minute at all, I’ll make sure our very best girls are available once he arrives.”

You pause upon overhearing that particular snippet of his phone call, your heels clicking to a stop on the unevenly cobbled path, and Kaito’s eyes crack open once he senses your approach.

“Very well, I’ll be sure to be at the entrance to greet him myself. Have a good evening, sir.”

Kaito ends the call, his eyes still on you.

“You’re back,” he remarks, acknowledging you once he tucks his phone into the pocket of his dress pants—his voice is so different now to what it had been only seconds prior that he may as well be a different person entirely. He plucks out the cigarette tucked behind his ear and holds it to his lips, fishing a lighter out from his pocket. “Early, isn’t it?” 

“Right on schedule, actually,” you reply, snapping out of your momentary stupor and approaching the door as the lighter clicks to life. “I was meeting with Suzuki-san this evening.”

Suzuki is one of your longest-standing regulars: a successful businessman in his mid-60s whose wife passed away a few years prior, and whose children have all grown and moved away. He takes you to dinner once a week, and your appointments are never anything more than that. He’s lonely, you realized quickly after meeting him, and the way his face lights up when you arrive at whatever restaurant he’s reserved for the evening makes your stomach ache a little too much to ever really enjoy the food.

“That old sucker?” Kaito’s eyes widen, the corner of his mouth twisting upward in an almost cruel way. “Still paying you to play footsie with him at dinner after all this time.”

You frown, shooting Kaito a withering look as you reach for the staff door to step inside. He ignores your glare, and you watch with a feeling of abject dread as an idea comes to him.

“Hey,” he says, his hand suddenly coming to rest against the peeling paint and forcing the door closed before you can properly open it. The acrid smell of his cigarette smoke is overwhelming with him this close to you, and it makes your nose scrunch up. “You should stay late tonight.”

“Can’t,” you reply flatly, angling your body away from his. “I’m just here for payout.”

Kaito huffs at your immediate refusal. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he tries again.

“I can’t,” you repeat yourself, holding firm.

He narrows his eyes, and you watch as he considers how he should reply. He rolls his eyes a bit and eventually backs off, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “Whatever.”

You open the door and step inside without any further words passing between you.

In the main office, you hand in the envelope of cash Suzuki-san had pressed into your palm after walking you back to Toma and the waiting car outside the restaurant. The disinterested man in the office—you never manage to keep track of who’s who with how frequently the faces change around here—takes the cash and counts it in another room, even though you'd already triple checked for yourself on the drive back to the club. You wait there with your arms crossed over your chest for him to bring you back a slip of paper that would outline how much you’d earned that week and what was deposited directly into your bank account, and your heel taps against the dingy tile as the minutes tick past.

The back office of the club is far less flashy than the interiors of the lounge a few hundred metres and some staircases away. In fact, the interiors tend to deteriorate in luxury the further outwards you move from the epicentre of activity—the club and the private rooms that are attached to it are the height of luxury, the suites that line the south end of the building slightly less impressive in their quality, and finally the administrative rooms and various other spaces that only the staff ever visit like this one are completely unremarkable. Looking around the shabby, disorganized office you wouldn’t even know the kind of business it’s running.

Maybe that’s the point, you can’t help but think.

As you wait for the nameless man to return with your pay stub, you hear a sound from the hallway outside the open office door. It’s slight, but familiar—the sound of a sniffle. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

It’s not unusual to hear a woman crying around here.

You quickly turn your back to the door, trying your very best to ignore it. That’s what you’ve learned to do over the years, after all. But the sobbing becomes less ignorable, more noticeable, and before you can think better of it you’re stepping out of the office towards the sound.

Around the corner from the office, next to a supply closet, you find a small girl hunched in on herself in a sparkling pink cocktail dress.

It’s Mini—at least, that’s the name she goes by around here since the girls rarely use their real names in this place, for good reason.

She’s young, maybe 20 if you had to guess generously, and had only been working at the club for a few week as a server mostly: circling the busy floor of the bar area and bringing patrons their drinks. She’s a bright, bubbly girl, and she’s taken a shine to you for whatever reason after only a few shifts where your paths have crossed. 

“Hey,” you call to her, and it seems to startle her a bit, jolting when she hears the sound of your voice.

Her mascara is running down her cheeks as she lifts her face to look up at you, and her nose has gone bright pink even underneath the layer of makeup she wears. At the sight of you, she starts to cry harder, crushing herself unexpectedly against your chest. You’re not sure what to do, so you pat a little awkwardly along her back in a vague attempt to comfort her.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her, hoping your voice isn’t quite as stiff as the rest of your body is.

“K-k-kaito just pulled m-me off the f-f-f-floor,” she wails, the final word drawing out in a warbling little cry.

Your jaw sets as she struggles to compose herself, pulling herself away from you after another moment of tears.

"Why?"

“He told me”—Mini swipes at her running nose with the back of her hand, sniffling wetly—“told me there’s a private party coming in. He’s rounding up as many girls as he can for it and sending them into one of the private lounges.”

Mini hasn’t been at the club long, and has never worked a private party. You both realize what it means for her, without it needing to explicitly be said. Evidently the premise has her frightened.

You really have no right to be as angry as you are, but that doesn't change the fury you feel rolling in the pit of your stomach.

Or stop you from doing what you do next.

You find Kaito in his office on the other side of the building.

“Who’s this private party?” you ask him once he answers the sharp rap you land against his door and he calls you in.

Kaito glances up from his desk. He’s got his suit jacket on again, and he’s fixed his hair—back to his usual self. He looks a little surprised to see you standing in his office doorway, especially as pissed off as you are.

He quirks a brow. “What’s it to you?”

You bite the tip of your tongue in an attempt to temper the flare of irritation searing through you. 

“I don’t think Mini’s ready to work a private party.”

“Who?” he asks, and the worst part is you know he means it, leaning back in his chair. His brow furrows as you stare at him.

 Your lips part to explain, but he cuts you off before any words come out.

“Doesn’t matter anyway,”—he waves his hand disinterestedly—“I need girls and she’s on shift. We’ve got a very important patron coming in who needs a selection to choose from, and half our best girls are already booked out tonight—or refuse to stay late.”

He tacks on that last part just for your sake.

Your teeth clench.

“So you’re just gonna send a bunch of rookies in there?” you ask him. “What kind of impression is that supposed to make to this very important patron?” 

He shrugs. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

You’re not sure who the beggar in this situation is supposed to be.

You grind your heel into the tile of his office floor as you sift through your thoughts.

“How many girls do you need?” you finally ask him, the question hissing out through gritted teeth.

He grins, seeing the cracks forming in your armour even from the other side of the room. 

“Depends,” he replies flippantly.

“On what?” you ask him flatly.

He leans forward across his desk with a sharp smile pulling at his lips. 

“On if I’m going for quantity or quality.”

In the end, Kaito agrees not to send any of the inexperienced girls into the private room. Instead, there will only be five girls, all relatively experienced, who this unexpected guest that Kaito seems so insistent on catering to will get to choose from. 

You agree to be one of them.

You touch up your makeup in one of the dressing rooms before heading towards the designated lounge. It’s one of the nicest private rooms in the building: large, quiet, and with it’s own small mini-bar that’s kept well stocked to minimize any interruptions—another testament to just how keen Kaito is to pull out all the stops for this mystery patron.

You’re not dressed how you usually would be a lounge shift like this—much less a private booking. The dress you’d worn to dinner with Suzuki-san is a little too tasteful for the role you’re about to assume. Mini had kindly offered to let you borrow one of the spares she’d brought to work with her after she found you freshening yourself up (and conveyed her relief at being spared the private party,) but you declined—not least of all because of your very different body types. Your quiet hope was that you’d get there, pale in comparison to one of the other girls who were better suited for the occasion, and ultimately be able to continue home like you ought to have already been by now, this whole situation an unfortunate—but only momentary—road block.

The other girls are already gathered in the room when you arrive, with drinks in their hands and glossy lips and beautiful, skin-tight dresses on their frames. You greet them quietly, accepting a glass of champagne that’s placed into your hands by one of the girls you’re closest to—a tall, stunning woman who goes by the name of Yuki.

“Any idea who this high roller is that Kaito’s kissing ass for tonight?” she asks you as you take a sip from your drink. Yuki had cut the drink with soda water, you realize it right away as the muted taste of effervescent wine reaches your tongue. It’s a welcomed trick that you yourself have been known to employ of many occasions, a tactic used to keep your wits about you without seeming like you’re turning down a drink while you work a long shift.

You can’t help but lament the fact that you really could use a proper drink right about now.

“No,” you tell her quietly, fiddling with the thin stem of the champagne flute between your fingers. “He didn’t say.”

“Must be someone good,” Sakura, another working girl whose long hair is tinted a pretty shade of pink that suits her name, chimes in from the other side of the room where she’s draped across the tufted sofa. 

You wonder if she’s right about that, because an unpleasant feeling creeping over you is telling you the opposite.

The girls chat quietly amongst themselves as you all wait for the arrival of the much-anticipated guest, and you continue sipping your watered down champagne as you rest perched on the arm of a chair along one side of the room.

You should already be home by now. Should already have scrubbed the day from your skin and slipped into a pair of soft cotton pyjamas. You should be sitting on your sofa watching a movie, or reading the last chapter of the book you’d had to tear yourself away from to come to work that afternoon, or even be curled up in your bed asleep. You’re bitter to still be within the walls of the club, to still be maintaining the character you’re paid to play, and you chew the inside of your cheek as you stew in this resentment—so much so that you almost miss the door to the lounge swing open.

Your eyes flicker up as the rest of the girls stand in greeting.

You’re the last to rise from your seat.

Behind Kaito is a man you’ve never seen before, his apathetic stare sweeping lazily around the room as Kaito rambles on about something you don’t care to listen to. The guest doesn’t seem to either.

He has dark hair that reaches a little longer than the top of his ears, and an expression on his face that doesn’t seem to imply that he’s any happier to be here than you are. He has a bandage on his cheek, the skin around it still red enough to imply the injury is fresh, and a cut on his lip that looks like it could bleed again at any moment. He’s dressed in black—a turtleneck, under a long coat, over a pair of trousers, all in the same shade. His hands are shoved into his pockets to complete his general air of indifference.

His eyes land on you just as you make it up to your feet, and the way his attention lingers on you for a moment longer than it had the rest of the girls makes you want to curse under your breath. Your attempt to go unnoticed has already started off on the wrong foot, and the man isn’t even fully across the threshold yet. 

Your eyes meet—properly meet—and for a moment you hold your breath.

“Ladies,” Kaito says, that saccharine, ingratiating tone you hate so much the thickest you’ve ever heard it in his voice. “This is Suna Rintarou”

The man’s eyes are still on you.

“I’m sure you’ll see to it that he has a very memorable evening.”

[jaime-brienne-fic-exchange]

The Handy Dandy Posting Guide

Posting Guide

As hard as it is to believe, we are here: the opening of the Jaime x Brienne 2024 Fic Exchange collection! I know, I know, it feels like prompts went out yesterday. But it's okay if you aren't quite done yet--the posting window is two weeks, so there's still time!

However, if you do know you cannot complete a fic please reach out to me as soon as possible so a knight writer can be arranged. Life happens and there’s no shame in needing a little help.

Now with the collection opening soon, here’s some FAQ on posting!

How does posting work?

There are two options: (1) Go to the collection here, and in the top right there will be a ‘Post to Collection’ button (2) Upload your fic to ao3 as usual, and make sure you enter JaimeBrienneFicExchange2024 in the collection field. From here, the process is the same. Fill in the relevant details and ensure you put your recipient’s AO3 name in the ‘Gift this work to’ field. Double check your original prompt to ensure you have the correct name. A few people have different tumblr/AO3 names and we don’t want any fics to go astray. If you’ve already made an AO3 draft before the today, make sure you add it to the collection and put in your recipient’s username in the fields mentioned above, and make sure you change the date when posting (or your fic will be buried). Be aware it can cause some shenanigans where the fic may not appear at the top of the page.  After that, it’s as simple as clicking post! Your fic will be submitted to the exchange and automatically be made anonymous. 

I can see my name, something went wrong!

Deep breath. As the author, when you open your own fic (posted or in a draft), it will say ‘Anonymous [YourUsername]’, but to other users it will simply say ‘Anonymous’. If that is not how it appears, double check that it is added to the correct collection and reach out if you still have a problem. Author’s names will not be revealed until October 7th, when I click the button to reveal them. Feel free to reply to comments during that week. As long as you are logged into the account that posted the fic, all of your comments will also be anonymised. 

What about Lil’ Oathkeepers?

I’m glad you asked, imaginary exchange participant that’s totally not me talking to myself! A Lil’ Oathkeeper is a gift that can be any size and shape. It can be art! A video edit! A moodboard! A fic shorter than 1000 words! Or… a fic longer than a 1000 words, but you probably know that. Anyone (you don’t even have to be signed up to the exchange) can make and gift a Lil’ Oathkeeper. I’ll be releasing the prompt spreadsheet and posting instructions once all gifts are posted.

Can I thank my beta in the notes of my story?

Absolutely you can! The betas of the fandom work HARD, they definitely deserve recognition. Just be mindful of including anything in your notes that might reveal who you are. You could choose to name your beta, or just thank them generally and add their name after authors have been revealed.

What if I don’t receive a story?

Everyone gets a story. Authors have until September 30th to post a complete fic, so chances are they just haven’t posted yet. It also might be because your fic needed a knight writer to write it. If this is the case, know that your knight is probably working very diligently to complete it, but might not be able to complete it within the posting window. If it looks like your fic will be significantly delayed (like until after authors are revealed) we will contact you directly to let you know what’s up.

What’s the etiquette around thanking my author? 

It can be hard to know what to say when you get a gift fic. Maybe it takes the prompts somewhere you hadn't imagined, or maybe you love it so much high-pitched pterodactyl noises are all you can manage. Maybe it's both. But it is good manners to leave a kudos and a comment. It doesn't have to be a long comment, and length does not equal love, but your author worked hard and deserves to have that effort recognised. And if you don't quite have time to read your gift right now? Please pop in and say so if you can!

Can I promote my story?

Please don’t do this until authors have been revealed through the collection. Once they have, go wild!

Can I rec my gift story?

Absolutely! Share the love! You can choose to rec it while it’s still anonymous, or wait until the authors are revealed. It’s up to you.

Have another question that hasn’t been answered in the FAQs? Just reach out! I can be reached via Tumblr, Discord, or jbficexchange@gmail.com and will get back to you ASAP!

I'm sure the panic is kicking in, but I promise you have time to create and share something wonderful. Keep calm and have fun, I can't wait to see what you have written!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One Step Too Far

Series Masterlist

Warnings: none, Professor Steve (that’s a warning in itself)

Monday comes too quickly for your liking. You head across campus, wringing the strap of your knapsack as your mind wanders ahead of you. As much sleep as you lost last night trying to redo your first lesson, you know you'll lose much more after this meeting.

You head up the old staircases, built before elevators could save your calf muscles, and weave through the hallways. You stop outside Steve’s office and read the placard on the door. Dr Steve Rogers, Ph.D, Professor.

Your phone vibrates and you slip it from your pocket, swiping it open with one hand as you knock with the other. You smile at the screen as you read Jensen’s message. You’re meeting up tonight. You told him you need to study but you already know you won’t be doing much of that.

The door opens and you look up, your lips falling straight. You drop your hand and clutch the phone tight as Professor Rogers greets you flatly, “good morning.”

“Hi, Dr. Rogers,” you squeak and sway back and forth.

He considers you, blue eyes bold as the lines in his forehead deepen. His button up is rolled to the elbows and his hair is slightly askew. You feel as if you’ve interrupted him though he was expecting you.

“I’m sorry, I–”

“Come in,” he cuts you off, “I’ve been waiting.”

You wince as he spins on his heel, leaving the door open. You hesitate to break the threshold as you hike up your bag nervously. He seems distant. Almost angry, but why would he be. Maybe he’s just as frustrated as you with these last minute changes.

You step inside but before you get far, his gives another curt demand, “shut the door. My neighbours aren’t exactly fond of listening to my appointments.”

“Oh, sure,” you say as you obey, clicking the door gently into frame, “I, uh, was able to make a few changes already. I sent you the files this morning.”

“Yes, I saw,” he sits in the straight back leather chair and wheels it closer to the desk. He pulls his glasses down onto the bridge of his nose and focuses on his monitor, “it’s not enough.”

“I know… but I thought I could get started,” you cross the carpet and unhook the bag from your shoulder. You sit and keep it snug between your legs.

“You’re a clever girl,” he muses as his eyes list over to you, “you think you know everything, don’t you?”

“Sir, I–”

“You really are smart,” he affirms, “so you really shouldn’t waste that potential. Don’t let the noise of college get in the way of your degree.”

“Of course not, prof– professor,” you utter in confusion, “I’m not.”

“Good. I’ve seen a lot of students lose sight of what’s important. I just don’t want you going down the wrong path.”

“Uh, okay, yeah,” your leg jiggles anxiously. He notices and you still your leg. “Sorry.”

You don’t know why you’re suddenly nervous. Something is different. There’s a tension you can’t place. You feel as if you’ve done something wrong but you know you haven’t.

“It’s fine. Let’s get started. I think we should rewind here,” he turns his attention back to the screen and tries to angle it around. “Dammit,” he shakes his head, “why don’t you come around and see? I have some notes.”

You nod and stand. You step around your bag and round the desk, going to stand by his shoulder as he brings up your edited lesson plan. You spot the  tiny blue font in the margins. You bend forward to read it. It pretty much nixes every idea you have.

“You see what I see?” He says.

“Um…”

“We need to start over. From scratch. We can’t do any of this.”

“Really?” Your lips part in disappointment as you eye all your hard work. “Are you sure?”

He doesn’t answer. You frown and slowly look at him only to find him already watching you. He’s so close. You feel his breath. You carefully back away.

“Mhmm, I’m certain,” he says before he clears his throat, “come on. Pull your chair around and we’ll get started.”

“Oh, well, I could just take your notes–”

“We’re already falling behind, may as well just do it together,” he dismisses you breezily, “unless you have plans?”

“No, no, you’re right,” you go back around the desk to grab the chair, lifting it slightly to keep from bunching up the carpet as you pull it with you. “I’m sure it won’t take long.”

📚

You head back down the hall, feeling lighter now. You’re almost done your lesson and your bladder is empty. Your brief bathroom break has refreshed you but can only do so much to relieve you. You’re going to have to cram much more than you expect tonight.

You yawn as you sweep through the office door and hear a sudden clatter. You’re not paying attention as you enter but you see Steve spinning away from the desk as he shoves his hands in his pockets. He paces and stretches his shoulders and neck.

“Ugh, sitting so long makes me stiff,” he says, “ready to get this done?”

He goes to his chair and grips the back. You glance around but see nothing out of the ordinary. You must’ve just surprised him. You weren’t really paying attention.

“Sure, I need this done. I have so much studying to catch up on.”

You skirt around the desk and resume your seat next to him as he swirls around the mouse and the screen lights up. You sit back as he logs in and you reach for your phone. You should text Jake and let him know you might be a bit later than you expect.

There’s a message waiting for him already, your phone already unlocked. You must’ve forgot to hit the button before you went to the bathroom.

“So, I think from here–” Steve begins, “what are you doing?”

“Just checking the time,” you lie as you furrow your brow in confusion. You don’t understand what Jensen is saying. You scroll up to see your last message. Sent only a minute ago?

‘Hey, got some work to do. Not gonna make it tonight. Who knew being a TA was so hard?’

You didn’t send that message.

Jake’s reply is a frowny face followed by another in quick succession, ‘damn, maybe 2morrow?’

You lift your head and look at Steve as he scrolls through the document. His hand rests on his leg, fingers squeezing tightly. He wouldn’t. Who else could have?

You rise, the chair scraping behind you in your haste, “did you send this?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t lie,” you back up, “I left my phone here and you— you sent– you told Jake–”

He turns to you and tweaks a brow, “I’m just looking out for you, is all. I figured this is gonna take us a while. I was just helping–”

“By going into my phone? Why would you ever do that?”

“I– I know it’s… honey, please,” he stands and you take another step back, “I was looking out for you. It kept buzzing and I just didn’t want you to worry about some boy.”

“Some boy– He— He isn’t any of your business,” you storm around the desk and scoop up your bag, “and neither is my phone. I can’t believe you would do that.”

“Wait, honey–”

“Honey?!” You stop by the door and face him, “Doctor, that’s not my name.”

His face goes rigid and a glint flashes in his eyes. A shadow darkens his face as his jaw squares and the sudden tinge of fury frightens you. You’ve never seen him like that. You’ve never seen anyone look like that. He looks… monstrous.

“It was a mistake,” he says tersely, “after all I’ve done to help–”

“I don’t want your help,” you swing open the door and stomp through, “goodbye, professor.”

[eomma-jpeg]

bc i crave validation and I know yall crave vashmeryl,,, here is a post trimax idea that @noaafishfieldguide and I brainstormed earlier today and I already have 3k words written for.

Here is part 1 | part 2

A sharp breath entered Meryl's lungs, adjusting her rhythm from being fully asleep to being slightly awake. She tried to blink, but she couldn’t quite tell if it was working in this darkness.

Another knock sounded.

Realizing what had woken her, Meryl slid out from beneath her sheets and stretched out, chin compressing into her chest as her arms elongated upwards. She rolled her neck as another soft knock came her way.

“Coming,” she said, mostly to herself. The person on the other side was sure not to hear her soft reply through all the walls.

Meryl stood on her wobbly and sleepy legs, shuffling along her floor and around corners until she came to the front door of her apartment. Careful as she undid locks and left a few chains still connected, she pulled the door open a fraction in order to peek out.

It was dark outside, her porch light having been turned off hours ago. Meryl wasn't sure what time it was, but it was too late to be called night time and too early to be called morning. Out in the darkness, Meryl could make out a few shadows in the moonlight.

“Hello?” she said to the emptiness.

The darkness shifted and a pair of glowing eyes met hers. A chill ran down Meryl’s spine just before the recognition clicked.

“Vash?”

The eyes relaxed, pupils dilating and lids dropping, “Meryl.”

Closing the door in his face, Meryl quickly slid the few chains left in place and flicked on the light, then ripped the door back open. 

Standing there in the pale light of her front porch was infamous outlaw Vash the Stampede, complete and alive. And exhausted. Beneath his eyes were dark bags, darker than she’d seen them in years, even before the confrontation at Octovern. She felt light headed anytime her mind wandered back to that time.

“Vash…” she began slowly, the excitement welling up in her chest, “We haven’t been able to find you since Mesa Probe.”

He flashed a weak grin, “I found a good hiding spot.”

She scoffed, “I figured as much. It’s been over a month since I…” Meryl trailed off again, her eyes moving downward as she finally noticed the bundle of fabric in Vash’s arms. It was his red coat, but normally– if Vash wasn’t wearing it– he folded it carefully, lined up all the buttons to ensure they didn’t unravel. Currently, the jacket seemed haphazardly wrapped in an elongated ball, held tight to his body and balanced in the crook of his elbow. 

Deciding to ignore it in favor of directing her attention to someone much more skittish, she looked back at Vash’s face, “What are you doing here, Vash? It's the middle of the night.”

His mouth opened slightly, pausing to determine the correct words to appease her (despite the fact that Meryl didn’t need much appeasing. She was so relieved to see him), “I… I needed a place to stay.”

Taking another look at him, Meryl noticed the layer of dust that was now visible to her dark-adjusted eyes. He was covered in grime, the jacket in his arms was bundled but even she could see the rough bullet torn edges, and his eyes were so tired. He looked about ready to collapse on the concrete of her front step.

“Come in.” was all she said.

Vash let out a small, relieved laugh, “I thought you were gonna send me away for sure.” He did a little rhythmic bounce with his arms that seemed like nervous energy to Meryl. 

“I… I wouldn’t do that.”

Meryl, however, would have been more likely to turn him away if it wasn’t the middle of the night and she had more cognitive function. But right now, Vash was standing in her doorway, asking for her help, and her heart couldn’t have been happier to do so.

She stepped aside, allowing him the room he needed to slide in. As he took his first few steps, Meryl’s ever observant eyes noticed the bundle as it passed. She realized it wasn't exactly a mess of old red fabric, but a well wrapped swaddle.

Vash’s feet came to a halt on the wood in the entryway.

A swaddle.

Meryl’s eyes widened. She turned the lights on.

“A baby,” she said blatantly before the practical side of her mind could catch it.

The plant stiffened, then relaxed, “Yeah, a baby.”

Meryl felt light headed again. 

Vash crouched ever so slightly to her height, then tugged down a section of the fabric to reveal the softest, sleepiest face. So round and so fresh, a newborn baby sat perfectly content in his precious jacket. Meryl finally noticed the little snores being exhaled through the squashed nose trapped between her chubby cheeks.

“A baby…” Meryl said again, leaning in toward the sweet little thing. 

Then, reality kicked in.

“A baby?!” 

Vash winced and the child made a little whining noise, “Please, Mer. I need her to sleep.”

Meryl slammed her hands over her mouth, mortified at her brash words. She lowered her volume and stared pointedly at Vash, her eyes full of confusion and surprise and irritation and… and… pure astonishment, “Where did you get a baby?”

A wide yawn impeded Vash’s response, “She’s mine.”

“Y-” she froze, “Yours?”

“I’d love to answer all of your questions, Meryl,” Vash said sleepily and with a hint of annoyance. Meryl knew it was a lie; he never answered her questions, “But I’d love to sleep.”

Realizing he was her guest and not just some intruder (in the morning, her brain would tell her that he was absolutely an intruder), Meryl rushed past him to her hall closet, gathering an extra quilt she had stored and a pillow that lacked a pillow case. Then, she wondered where she could place the baby.

Returning to find Vash sitting on her sofa, bouncing the baby in his arms absently while he closed his eyes for a moment, Meryl asked softly, “Where would you like the baby to sleep?”

He didn’t open his eyes, “She can sleep with me. I can watch her.”

Meryl furrowed her brows in a bit of frustration, “You can’t sleep and watch her, Vash.”

The plant yawned again, and Meryl felt the influence as she yawned herself. “I just need to lay down and rest. That’s what I’ve done the past few nights.” Shifting on the couch, Vash laid on his back, head resting on a throw pillow while he settled the baby on his chest, creating a rehearsed and probably quite comfy location for her to sleep. Vash was warm. Meryl knew that well. 

Meryl crept into the dim living room with the blanket in hand, “I can watch her,” She wasn’t quite sure what possessed her to make that offer, but she could chalk it up to the fact that it was 3:42 in the morning and it was Vash. The thought of him just being in her house filled her with this strange warmth.

He had come here when he needed help. 

Meryl felt her throat clench. She definitely needed more sleep. 

She slipped the blanket over Vash, stopping it just below where the baby was laid. Vash murmured, “Don’t watch her, Mer. She’s…she’s my responsibility…” he was fading in and out of consciousness, “I don’t expect… I don’t expect you to take care of her.”

Meryl watched as Vash’s head relaxed fully, depressing the pillow and marking his descent into sleep, but his hands still held onto his baby so carefully. He kept her perched just perfectly so that she wouldn’t roll off his chest and onto the ground below. The image of him doing this out in the desert sands beneath a protective butte, sacrificing his coat so this little girl could withstand the cold and the whipping of sand around them. Emotion once again rose in Meryl’s throat.

Stubbornness also mixed in with the sadness and Meryl slid her hands gently beneath the baby, scooping her with confidence into her arms. Vash made a small sound of protest, but not enough to get Meryl to stop her seizure of the child. The rough texture of Vash’s coat as she slid her hand beneath it was so filled with nostalgia that Meryl was nearly knocked off her feet, but she was careful as she lowered to the ground, sitting with crossed legs and adjusting the soft bundle into a comfortable position for them both. Meryl carefully pulled down the flap again to get a good look at the baby’s face.

She was so small and soft. Meryl ran a gentle finger over her cheek to check just how soft she was. In her many years as an inhabitant of No Man’s Land, she’d never felt something so lovely and velvety. She swallowed down another wave of overwhelming emotion, now growing annoyed at her own inability to control it.

Beneath her little eyelids, the babe’s eyes moved rapidly, dreaming of something intriguing. At least, Meryl hoped. This child probably didn’t know much about their world, let alone the interesting parts. Mind wandering, Meryl’s tired mind wondered more about this baby. She ran her finger over her cheek again, then gave an amused smile to no one in particular.

“I don’t even know your name, and here I am, planning to stay up all night until your dad wakes up.”

Calling Vash a father felt like a gut punch, even if it was an accurate descriptor. 

The baby in her arms stirred, her face pinching up just slightly, and Meryl responded with a gentle bounce and a soft shh, but it wasn’t enough. Squirming out of her packaging, the little girl was able to wriggle an arm out. She stretched her chubby little fingers toward the sky and Meryl couldn’t help the desire to fit her finger into the babe’s palm. Acting on that instinct, Vash’s baby clamped her hand onto Meryl’s index.

Vash’s baby.

Sighing, Meryl’s mind was just swirling with a lot of unanswered questions and new concepts she didn’t know if she was ready to accept, but her sleepy mind could leave them by the wayside for when she was fully rested. That tight rim around her water lines was affecting her eyesight and she swore she could feel the sand forming in the corners. 

Finally finished with her wiggling, the baby settled into a new comfy position with one arm out and her head poking out a bit more from her makeshift swaddle. Meryl’s eyes were immediately drawn to the little crop of hair.

Blonde.

Her mouth parted in awe, “I guess you really are Vash’s, huh.”

The baby didn’t say anything, and neither did Vash, the two plant’s snores mingling in the early morning. 

[tineeericeee]

What Waits Off the Coast of Santa Barbara

Chapter One: Taking a Short Walk on a Long Boardwalk

Summary: Carlton Lassiter is going on a late night walk on the pier, when he sees a figure just off in the distance.

Notes: Happy mermay! To both the psych community *and* the g/t community (I know you guys go nuts for Mermay)

Takes place post the first scene in season 1 episode 6: from the earth to the Starbucks, except Shawn and Lassiter still haven’t met.

Lassiter was drunk. Very drunk.

It had been two years. Two whole years, to the day, since he and Victoria had unofficially separated.

That, coupled with the fact that he felt he was slowly losing his touch at being a detective, put him in a very depressed mood. A mood he was just a tad too familiar with.

And the cherry on top, his partner, Lucinda Barry, had been transferred to a different station in a different city a few weeks ago, and he still hadn’t completely gotten over her. It wasn’t exactly clear whether she had done it of her own volition or if the chief had her transferred, but one thing was for sure: It definitely had something to do with their secret relationship.

Somehow, word had gotten out and spread fast, and soon enough the whole station knew about them. Lassiter wouldn’t have put it past her if she had requested the transfer out of embarrassment of being outed for dating her superior.

The new junior detective was okay. It could have been worse. But it also could have been better. Juliet O’Hara was a little bit too bushy-tail bright-eyed for his taste. She definitely had a lot more energy than Lucinda.

All of this added up to him desperately needing a night to himself. To go to a bar and drink all of his emotions away.

Lassiter had drink after drink after drink. Predominately whiskey, but there was some brandy at one point.

Eventually the bartender cut him off for the night, and told him to find a taxi to take him home. Lassiter had a better idea. A stroll on the boardwalk to hopefully clear his mind and let the sea air help sober him up.

———

Lassiter had been walking for at least an hour now, which would have been impressive had he been going at his usual gait. But he was mostly stumbling along, just focusing on keeping his feet below him and on the wooden boards.

Eventually, his vision stopped swimming and he could focus more on where he was going rather than the simple task of staying upright. Now he was able to take in his surroundings better.

He was far away from Tom Blair’s, and had walked long enough that the beach and the boardwalk was completely empty, save for him and what seemed like a lonely tarp crumpled in a heap down near the shore.

Lassiter sneered at it. People had no respect for nature anymore. They thought it was okay to just leave anything they weren’t using and expect no consequences.

He should pick it up and… what, drag it back to the bar where he left his Crown Vic? Haul it to the nearest trash can and just… set it down next to it?

As Lassiter walked down to grab the tarp, something else in the distance grabbed his attention. In the weak, dim light emanating from the small street light on the dock, he could pick out a large figure just out of the way, next to the shoreline.

‘…Strange.’

Curiosity getting the better of him, he trekked further down, digging through his pockets for the little pen light he always kept with him.

Just as Lassiter got to the… whatever it was, his hand finally found the tiny flashlight. He fumbled it for a second before locating the little button and clicking it on.

But what he saw made his heart stop, sobering him up.

The first thing Lassiter’s flashlight landed on was an impossibly large back end of a fish tail. It was absolutely massive. It must have been the size of a Great White, and this was just half of it! Each scale seemed to be roughly the same size, if not slightly smaller, than the palm of his hand, each one shimmering an unearthly green under the light of his torch. Small nicks and scratches dotted the whole of it. The whole thing was tangled in a green synthetic fishing net, wrapping around tightly.

He moved the flashlight upwards, and saw…

‘No. No, that’s just not possible.’

And yet there it was. Skin. Human skin, blending smoothly into the fish scales. It was a torso, and just as large as the tail. There were slightly larger gashes covering the soft, surprisingly slightly tanned skin.

It was also covered in the same plastic green netting, tangled and knotted all around. The fibers irritated the skin, cinching tightly and turning it an angry red.

An arm, on the opposite side, was tied up in the same shitty netting, and the other lying limply besides the body. Cuts that matched all of the other ones littered its arms. Arms that were size of his own body, with hands that could easily smother him if they so wished.

Lassiter almost didn’t want to, but he kept going.

And he saw the face. And it wasn’t anything like what he was expecting.

It was the face of a young man, with a chiseled jaw and roguish stubble. Perfectly pink shining lips — that were so big he could put one hand on them and just barely cover — parted slightly to show pearly white teeth, sharp and pointed. Long, beautiful brown lashes hid eyes that he was sure were just as mesmerizing as the rest of his face.

But it was just… the sheer size of the merman, mixed with his intoxicated brain, that caused Lassiter’s legs to crumple beneath him, and unceremoniously fall on his back into the soft sand. He groaned as stars winked out of sight as his vision was consumed by darkness.

—————

Notes: thanks for reading! And also a big special thanks to @arrowheadedbitch for beta reading!

ao3 link

[object-headed-characters-yes]

Day 8- Role Swap

Click and RGB swap; Click regrets his decision. Very much regrets it (I’m still thinking about their interaction, so this one-shot happened.

(Some tags: role swap, resentment, angst, betrayal)

A possible to-be soldier in his old world, a hero in this one, yet denied the heroic end to his journey in this world of make-believe.

He refused to let this he end of his journey, as he’d been told it was. He refused to accept that this was how it ended.

Broken and bleeding, clothing in tatters.

Click thinks that he demanded another chance. A do-over, as it were, to change this outcome. It must have been allowed, for She was amused by his words (Click rankles at the amusement; he should have succeeded, not lost as he had). But Click was allowed to try again, but unlike before, he was not the hero. He was instead tasked with finding one instead, which was not what he wanted but what he got.

Click’s body was no longer human, either. It was a rigid, mainly inorganic body. A facsimile of a soldier; a tin soldier whose body was made up of weapons that he had used on his initial journey. As much as Click disliked being put in this position, he still existed, and that allowed him to attain the goal from before, just in a roundabout way.

First, he needed to find a hero.

He went back to the world he’d come from, and took his time choosing the person he would bring back with him. Click didn’t want to have to try again, especially if he may not have another chance from Her if the hero Click found failed as he had.

Click was drawn to an actor, who had flair and a presence on the set that brought attention to him versus the others. This man handled himself with a cool air of confidence and preciseness that would aid him well in the world of make believe. The longer Click watched the actor on set, the more he believed that this man could be a good candidate. Even more so when Click observed that the man appeared to do well at close quarters parrying and joking prodding with a bamboo cane between takes. This would mesh well with Click’s preferred long-range attack style. He would be able to avoid striking then man should he agree to what would likely sound absurd, especially coming from someone who looked as Click now did.

Most unfortunately, Click didn’t have time to follow the man around outside of the set to be sure of his assumptions; already Click had taken too much time to find someone to bring back with him. So, a few days after observing the man, Click followed the actor home. And once it was clear they were alone, Click made himself known to the man.

Click-click-click.

“I say, where in the dickens did you come from?!” The man practically yelped, putting a chair between himself and the tin soldier that was suddenly just there. He reached a hand to his head, fingers tangling through a short mop of wavy hair. “I’ve gone and hit my head, haven’t I?”

It was a rather entertaining reaction to something inexplicably appearing from out of nowhere when one thought they were all alone.

Click greeted the wary man with a tilt of his fake head, not bothering to explain that his eyes were the six golden buttons on his chest, and three mouths could spilt open along the trailing black decoration between the buttons with sharp teeth.

Later.

If and when it was necessary for this would-be hero before him, should the actor choose to play along.

Click-click-click.

“Is that normal for you to be making that noise?” The man asked. “It doesn’t seem natural, you know. How is it that you’re moving? Is this some kind of new hazing within the studio?”

More chatter than Click had seen from the man when he’d been in the studio, as the actor had mentioned.

No matter.

There wasn’t enough time to pick someone else, now that Click had shown himself to the man. Before the actor could ask even more questions, Click spoke.

“Do you want to be a hero?”

~

Click had regrets.

Many, many regrets, really.

But choosing this current hero?

The biggest regret of Click’s entire life (or death, whichever way one wanted to look at it).

This hero was not who he appeared to be, this hero.

Click should have known better than to choose someone based off how they acted on the job, versus how they acted when eyes were off of them.

This hero was utterly insufferable.

The man ran his mouth ceaselessly, whether or not Click had any answers in-between. Despite wanting nothing more than to hate this hero who had taken on the role Click had held before, this hero was frustratingly capable of getting through dicey situations (at times with intervention from Click himself when the tin soldier deemed it necessary). Click had gotten some grim amusement out of the first time he used his rifle made up of his arm to fire on some Fears that had surrounded himself and his hero.

The hero?

“I say, that was quite a shoot of a surprise.” He just laughed (nervously) and tipped his boater hat to Click in thanks. Then the hero tapped his bamboo cane to the ground alongside the remnants of the Fears shot down. “What good aim, too. Though I don’t suppose we could be a tiny bit more careful about possible ricochets?” The hero lifted his suit coat out to the side to proffer the hole that had gone through the fabric during a dodge.

“I missed you, didn’t I?” Click responded indifferently, as his arm shifted back to an arm, metal hand flexing. “With all of your scrambling about as well, I might add.” Smoke finished curling out from his multiple mouths on his chest, and out the mouth of the fake head. Click’s mouths twisted in ire when the hero came closer, the man not having to stoop to look at Click’s golden button eyes.

“That you did, and for that, I’m grateful.” Swinging the cane up over his shoulder, the hero hummed thoughtfully. “Where did you say we were headed before that interruption?”

“…the Market.”

“I see. And from its name I gather that there are goods to trade and such?” The hero looked around, then turned back to Click, a frown slipping across his face. “Something the matter, Click?”

“Nothing.” The three smiles twisted into cooked smiles when the hero’s eyes studied him closely. “All is well, with the Fears dealt with.”

“If you’re certain…” The hero replied dubiously, staring at the immobile tin soldier’s face, before falling into step alongside him as Click continued on whatever path that apparently would lead them to the Market.

~

This hero made it to the Market after all.

What a surprise.

Click wondered how much longer this hero would last, with the close calls that had been had on the way here. Yet onward they travelled, until something became clearer than ever before that Click felt he’d noticed but hadn’t really paid much heed to.

This hero was a damned coward, the bravado, the confidence a front to hide a crippling fear of inadequacy to fulfill the role of ‘hero’ he had agreed to when he accepted Click’s offer.

But infuriatingly, luck was on the hero’s side, though it was through Click’s weapons and precision at shooting the enemies that helped the hero be that lucky. Click could count a few times where, had he not intervened, the hero would have been overtaken, and fail as Click had failed. This hero would be doomed to be twisted to fit this world’s inhabitants, no longer human, but something else.

Maybe even a monster.

Already the hero had lost his suit coat, the braces over the dress shirt fiddled within an inch of its life. The cane was twirled absently through the dark journey to the market (hitting Click several times; it didn’t hurt, but it was rather irritating).

Click was uncertain how much longer the hero could go on should the tin soldier choose to stop assisting him, stepping in to prevent injury and schisms. But if this hero could get to the end, Click believed that he could cut in last minute to fulfill the role of ‘hero’ that had been denied to him.

Time would tell…except Time wasn't easy to pin down with how often Time moved about.

After a visit for new amour (and surviving the hero’s inane chattering about the logistics of it all), they were off from the relative safety of the Market. The hero would have to last until the end, and it was to be seen if he could manage it without Click’s continued interference, and the knowledge that the hero’s bravado and calm was false.

It was simply too much to deal with, Click decided, coupled with the hero’s incessant chattering that continued on, that led Click to his decision not too far from the safety of the Market. With an excuse of needing to gather more material than intended, Click backtracked to the Market with the unwitting hero.

The hero only realized what was going on when he suddenly noted that he no longer had his guide.

Where had the tin soldier gone?

Onward without him?

From the shadows nearby, Click watched dispassionately as his hero was slowly overwhelmed by Fears and Doubts. Turning away, Click waited until the deed was done. He doubted that there would be much left of the human that had come here to the world of make believe with him.

Click waited, until a shiver ran through him as a shadow loomed over him. Click kept his golden button eyes forward in the dark as he spoke.

“He wasn’t the hero I thought he would be. A coward of an actor who hid behind a grandiose guise and ceaseless chattering like a telly someone left on. His cool and calm demeanor in the face of danger was a lie made manifest here time and time again.”

A twinge of guilt that rose was crushed when Click saw the former hero collapse nearby after being seen to by Her. Seeing as he was in one piece, Click assumed this meant he would be allowed to find another hero, since he was still standing. Click stared down at the former hero, unbothered by the static pleas that rose from the now-television headed monster that lie on the ground near the Market entry, a trembling hand held out toward Click.

The tin solider turned away, abandoning the former hero behind him to whatever fate this world would bestow upon him from that point forward, as there would be no returning to his old life. Click needed an actual hero and not a coward; Click needed who the former hero had been when he was acting.

The next time Click passed through the Market with a new hero, his former hero now went by the name ‘RGB.’ Click avoided him, and told himself that it wasn’t guilt that kept him away from RGB.

It was better that way, for both of them.

[mawofthemagnetar]

There was a lot of stuff I wasn’t able to include in The Sky Weighs Heavy Tonight, because it wasn’t relevant. A lot of things got cut, a lot of things weren’t mentioned. One of those things was that TFC streams on that universe’s version of twitch. While still being, fundamentally, an old man.

Well, this morning I had a burst of inspiration and wrote a little something about exactly that. If you haven’t read Pilot AU, this likely won’t make much sense.

If you have, please enjoy!

“Hello everyone! Welcome back my humble little stream. I hope you’re all doing very well. So, today, I figured we’d play a bit of Block Game, and do some work on my branch mine-hm?”

An alert went off on the stream, and TFC’s mouse clattered against the desk as he minimized his game to look at it. In the facecam window in the corner, he glanced over and smiled.

“MisterMiter77 decided to grace us with a subscription! Thank you! Now, you don’t need to do that- I’m still not sure how to turn those off- but keep in mind, I work for the government, guys. I have a pension. This streaming lark is just for fun!”

A gust of wind rattled the windowpane above TFC’s desk loud enough for the mic to pick it up, and he shook his head.

“Ah, now, a little warning for all of you: the weather’s really bad today, so I might get called out. You all know the drill! If my pager goes off, what do we do?”

TFC grinned as his chat parroted the line.

“That’s right. Remind me to close the damn stream. Now, let’s get to mining, that’s enough wasted time!”

Twenty minutes later, the phone rang. TFC scowled at it, pausing Block Game and picking up the corded phone that sat on his desk next to his computer.

“Hello? Oh, hiya, Frankie. Listen- yeah, I’m still in for the music night. Listen, I’m actually streaming right now. Yeah. The one on the internet, Frankie. Yes. Okay, thanks. See you later.”

TFC hung up, to the welcome sight of his Chat spamming pogchamp emotes. He cackled, leaning in.

“Frankie pog? Yeah, I’d agree. Super nice guy. We’re going fishing next week…”

TFC shook his head, and he and Chat headed deeper into the branch mines. A few tunnels later, and TFC squinted at one chat message.

“Hm? How come I have subscriptions on if I don’t want them on? My nephew set this all up. I said to him, I wanted everything all set up properly, and he got my account to get- subscribers and stuff. And then he ran off to New York and he hasn’t been back to Newfoundland since. There we go, the crying child emotes. Yeah. So, you know, you don’t have to subscr-“

An earsplitting ringing drowned out what TFC was about to say next, and he snatched up his pager, eyes bugging out. This one had a small screen with text scrolling across it, and he leapt to his feet.

“SHIP OFFSHORE SINKING GOTTA GO BYE!” He shouted, clicking a button to close his game and jabbing at something in the corner of his screen-

The pager rang again, even louder, and TFC almost tripped over the charging cable plugging his prosthetic leg into the wall. That cable was the entire reason he’d started streaming at all- if he had to be stuck in a chair for hours, why not have some fun with it?

The pager let out an earsplitting shriek just as TFC got the wire unplugged, and he sprinted out the door.

Leaving chat staring at his white computer room wall.

For the next ten hours.

They only started three cults.

[cookiegirlsstuff]

Surprise (or something like that…)

Lee: Yoongi

Ler: J - hope

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

For Yoongi, it was a normal day, just like any other. It was around 00: o'clock and he was sitting in his studio working on a new song.

And believe it or not, this time, for once, it wasn't his intention, but unfortunately he had a deadline and had to finish the lyrics by tomorrow.

He sighed and took another sip of his iced americano, exhausted.

Of course, the other members didn't like yoongi's constant absence either. And that's exactly why J - hope was waiting outside Yoongi's studio at that very moment, waiting for the rapper to come out.

Ironically, the older one didn't come out after a few minutes or even half an hour.

Hoseok was beginning to get tired of waiting and decided to simply drag yoongi home, whether he wanted to or not. If necessary, he would just carry yoongi all the way home.

With this in mind, he opened the door and was shocked to realise that his hyung was crying.

"Yoongi hyung, what happened?" he asked anxiously, taking his friend in his arms. Yoongi hardly ever cried and when he did, he really wasn't feeling well.

"I'm just so stressed about our new album and I don't know how I'm going to finish the title song by tomorrow!" the older boy cried desperately, burying his head even deeper into J -hope's hoodie.

J - hope patted Yoongi's head reassuringly and promised to help him later.

After a few more minutes, Yoongi's sobs became quieter until he finally stopped crying. Instead, he looked at his mate a little confused, as if he had to process what had just happened.

"Why did you actually come here?" he asked, looking questioningly into j - hope's hazel eyes.

"Yoongi….it's already past midnight and you haven't been home for days. I wanted to surprise you and take you home," said the younger boy, stroking his hand along Yoongi's back.

Yoongi was slightly startled by the new kind of touch and backed away. J - hope laughed and started stroking yoongi again.

But as he did so, he accidentally touched yoongi's stomach. And to his surprise, yoongi began to …. laugh? It took a few seconds before something visibly clicked in Hoseok's head.

"Yoongi… please stop being sad, otherwise I'll have to cheer you up," laughed Hoseok.

"What are you talking about? I'm not sad anymore!" suga clarified, a little confused.

"Yoongi…please stop crying," the other just said, pretending to be worried.

"I'm not sahahad," yoongi wanted to say, but before he could finish his sentence, j - hope began to spider yoongi's tummy.

"Hoseok - ahaha….stahahap please," the older one giggled uncontrollably as j - hope came close to his belly button.

"Why should I? I want you to be happy again," smiled j - hope.

"I ahaham not eveeen sahahad ahany MORE," suga tried to say, shouting the last part more as hoseok started tickling his hip.

“Be quiet! Other people might be able to hear you, you know!” laughed j - hope.

"HOBI PLEAHASE", yoongi screamed through his laughter. He had a full gummy smile on display and squirmed like crazy, trying to get ot of Hoseok's grip.

J-hope stopped tickling yoongi's hipbones and then dug his fingers into his armpits.

"NOHOHO STAHAHAP IHIHIT!!" yoongi squealed and thrashed around. It tickled so much. Hoseok stayed silent and watched the toss and turn of his cute hyung. "PLEAHAHAHASE STAHAHAP", Yoongi shouted.

"Okay," hobi said and removed his hands immediately.

But when yoongi thought is was over hoseok started again.

"Hobi please", Yoongi begged but it was no use.

“I think you need a bit more to be honest I mean you have been pretty down, haven’t you hyung?” he asked the elder.

“ NOHOHOHO” yoongi melted again, wiggling and squirming under hoseok's ticklish grip. And when he began, by tickling his ribs, it was over and out. He poked and lazily wiggling his fingers over Yoongi’s ribcage.

Suga absolutely shrieked, shooting into a sitting position before flopping back down, like a fish out of water. His laughter was louder than he thought was possible, and tears started flowing from his eyes in streams.

For five minutes this continued before Hoseok finally stopped. Yoongi stopped flailing as the sensation stopped, his arm coming up to cover his stomach and everything else and tired giggles broke through his lips.

“Tha-thahat was soho mehehean!”

"But it worked. You are happy now", Hoseok smiled and hugged his hyung. Then they got home together and on the next day they finished the song perfectly and in time.

Hope you like it 🙃