#can see the entire length of the cut too buddy

[dilf-in-peril]

that's fucking sick

[mymreaderlibrary]

Could always go for some old man yaoi between Price and an older veteran reader so here are some ramblings.

[Old friends, pre relationship, yearning, beard buddies, ramblings/ no coherency].

[Length: 739 words]

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The 141's mission calls for a specialization that they don't meet (at least not well enough to risk failure), but what would you know Price has an old buddy who can help. The thing is he's a veteran who's not all that interested in exiting his retirement especially considering he lost a limb. However he's not one to abandon those in need and with a little convincing he decides to assist, offering his expertise mostly off of the field.

In their downtime y/n and Price get to catch up and spend some time together over drinks. It's been a while since they've seen each other considering how differently they now lead their lives. Y/n is embarrassed to admit he's already getting grey hairs as Price questions his brutally short buzzcut. He never used to cut his hair like that even in his younger years. Price jokes that he's disappointed that y/n is trying to hide his new silver fox look. Y/n says he'll get to see it when it starts growing into his beard. Maybe it's the alcohol but the teasing lingers in both of their minds, feeling more sincere than joking.

Even if they've spent a lot of time apart there's still things they know about each other by heart. Particularly how apprehensive y/n is to being assisted with anything. There's no fragility allowed as he'd rather grin and bare it than accept help, especially with his new(ish) disability. Price doesn't speak on the matter, but he does get frustrated at the other man's stubbornness, a subtle crinkle to his eye as he watches his friend struggle.

Speaking of stubbornness, the 141 get to "enjoy" having two hardheaded older men on the same team. Double the scolding and double the exasperated sighing, somehow it's like being together has combined them into the ultimate grumpy old man. Laswell wouldn't admit it but once their voices start to layer over each other she tunes them out. They're gonna be going in circles for a while and it's near impossible to stop them. It would be almost comedic if it didn't happen all the damn time. ( Worst of all is that most of their arguments are them agreeing on something, but thinking the other misunderstood due to how they phrased their response).

Night times are often nostalgic, neither of them are heavy sleepers so if one wakes up so does the other. They try to get as much sleep in when they can, but if they feel like reminiscing over times long gone then who's to stop them. Stories about Price's younger years in training and y/n's experience with that one damn drill instructor who seemed to hate his guts. Stories about how shitty their first long range shots were and how they could barely even hit the target. Stories about all the times they found themselves in some form of trouble be it on the field or in base. Y/n remembers the time they had to share one shitty cot that they almost punched each other over. Price remembers when they were stuck in a tundra for over a month and were so excited to have a hot shower again they just went at the same time. Neither of them mention how much they actually enjoyed that closeness and how both of them were too cowardly to initiate anything. But they do mention the day they got split up, sent to entirely different countries. Y/n admits to being disappointed he hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye... Price says he's glad they didn't, sometimes goodbye's like those are bad luck.

They take a moment to look at each other, see scars old and new, wrinkles forming in places that used to be so smooth. Price can't help but look at y/n's eyes, seeing that familiar color that never seemed to fade despite all its seen. He thinks back to that warm shower over a decade ago and how they looked then too. The steam that rose from y/n's chest, the subtle brush of skin they shared as they tried to dance around each other. He remembers that expectation of something more that never came.

They squeeze each other's hands, but the moment passes in silence and neither of them move. Eventually they break eye contact and drift back to sleep.

It seems even now they’re still too cowardly.

[luminouslywriting]

Hello darling! I have a request: Namely, it's a BoB request (Dick Winters x Reader). It's a postwar concept, like a while after the war and he returns home and it's all fluffy and based on that romantic scene in Disney's Robin Hood (if you don't know which one just google "disney robin hood love scene" and find the video with that scene; it's so adorable i can't). Thank you!

Oh sweetheart this is such a darling request and I'm so glad you sent me a Band of Brothers one!! Winters has a special place in my heart and I'm thrilled to get this out to you! Reminder that my requests remain open and I'm always happy to do Band of Brothers requests haha!

More under the cut, cut for length:

-Winters is a sensible man with goals and plans for the future. And part of those plans, possibly even the most integral part of those plans, is you.

-He's known for the entire length of the war that he wants to come home to you and marry you. He wants to build a life with you and find some peace and happiness.

-So naturally, he's a little bit nervous about how everything is going to go down once he comes home. He's been through a lot and a lot of time has passed since he's last seen you. And you know that Lew has to sit there and put up with Winters' worrying about how things will work out.

-But he gives a miraculous pep talk to Winters about how he's faced off with the German Army and survived that, how hard can a proposal and reunion be?

-The answer is still rough buddy

-But all of his worries and anxiety seem to melt away the minute that he sees you waiting at the train platform for him

-He's a little bit speechless because you look so pretty and perfect

-But worry not, because this man is smooth af and he's not going to get tripped up because you're pretty and he's missed you

-So after the initial train platform hug that nearly leaves him breathless because WOW, your hair smells really nice and you're actually here and in his arms—he's asking for a small detour before traveling home to see his family/your family

-And naturally the two of you are a little shy around one another, given the fact that it's been so long

-But he wants to take a walk and take in the peace and quiet of the homefront

-He's missed being out in nature and seeing all of the fireflies and just being present and in the moment with you

-Dick Winters is the embodiment of the emotional happy emoji 🥹

-He's suavely grabbing your hand as the two of you walk and quietly talk about what's been going on for the two of you

-You wrote letters, of course, to one another. But letters don't make up for in person contact and getting to actually be with one another. He's really content and comfortable in your presence and relaxed, which is not a natural state for this man haha.

-So as the fireflies start to come out, he can't help but pluck a flower off of the ground and hand it to you

-And yes, he gives this adorable grin as you blush and accept the flower

-Gives the most straightforward and sweet love confession of a lifetime (only because Lew proofread the thing and told him that it was TOO long-winded and needed to be trimmed down to the basics, as this was not a military report haha)

"Y/N, I'm in love with you. I have been for quite some time now. I know I'm not the perfect man and you deserve someone far better than me. But the truth of the matter is that everything for me and my future has to do with you. So I guess what I'm trying to ask you is if you'll marry me."

-It's so tender and sweet and pure of heart that you can't help but say yes (although you were going to say yes regardless of how the proposal went down or WHEN it went down haha)

-And it all ends with the most tender and gentle of kisses where the two of you are holding onto one another as if you're the last two people on earth.

[augustjustice]

Second in Line (aka Blake Harrington fic), 2/?

AO3 Link

Part 1

The telltale sound of footsteps echo again from inside the apartment, approaching the door.

“Eds? What is it?”

The voice rings out before Blake can see him, and a second later, he’s sliding into the doorway beside ‘Eds’ despite the tight space, one shoulder on the frame and his hip pressed firmly up against the other man’s.

Blake feels his heart speed up in his chest. 

The man now standing before him has on a red Chicago Bulls sweatshirt, so faded it looks almost pink. Despite the cold outside, he’s wearing light wash, cutoff jean shorts at a length that would earn a dirty look from Blake’s father, and thick white baseball socks that are pulled up over his calves. His hair is floppy, not as long as Eds’ but curling over his ears and brushing the back of his neck–unkempt, Blake can practically hear the derision in his mother’s voice–and a shade or two lighter than Blake’s own, sun-kissed blonde highlights shimmering in it. 

He squints down at Blake through thick-rimmed glasses, his brow furrowing in obvious confusion and…

…There they are. His mother’s honey-coated brown eyes peer back at him.

“Who’s this?” he asks.

When the man turns his head to look at ‘Eds,’ Blake catches a flash of white, so small and subtle he almost missed it entirely.

His brother’s got a single pearl earring, shining in the lobe of his right ear.

Eds gives a shrug of one shoulder, the twitch of his lip seeming to hint he’s repressing an amused smile. His eyes swivel between the pair of them, from Steve to Blake then back again, taking it all in.

"Sweetheart, why don't you ask the little dude his name?" 

When Steve turns to him again, Blake feels an uncanny sense of déjà vu, like he’s looking into a mirror, or being reintroduced to a family friend he met when he was too small to remember. 

“What’s your name, buddy?” Steve asks dutifully. 

“Blake,” Blake stutters out nervously, having lost all of the decorum he managed to hold onto when introducing himself to Eds, “–Harrington.”

Eds and Steve’s heads turn towards each other in unison, perfectly in sync. Blake feels an inexplicable stab of jealousy at that, the way the pair of them move in tandem. It speaks to a familiarity that runs bone-deep.

“...Holy shit,” Steve murmurs, running a hand up through his hair.

Eds nods in agreement. 

“Yeah, babe. What can I tell you? This one’s a doozy.” 

Then he opens the door a bit wider, all while Steve continues to stare into the middle distance of the hallway.

“You’ll have to forgive Stevie here–he’s usually more of the Suzy Homemaker type than me, but, uh…you’re gonna have to give him a second, on this one, I think.” Hooking his arm easily into Steve’s own, Eds tugs the pair of them backwards, then gives a flourishing bow. “So come into our humble abode, young traveler. Sit a spell, and spin your tale for us.”

The two men back away from the doorway completely, then, giving Blake room to cross the threshold. 

He does.

And it’s a small thing, really, but it feels big. Because, for the first time in his life, he’s stepping out of his parents’ wealthy, polished world…and into his long lost brother’s.

Quick tag list below the cut:

@zerokrox-blog, @just-super-fucking-gay, @justanother-anon, @aphrobites

I did my best to tag people who expressed interest in being on the tag list when I wrote the first part of this. However, I recognize that was back in December, so if you're on this tag list and would like to be removed, please feel free to let me know! I understand it's been a while and people have moved fandoms, etc. My apologies also if I missed anyone, and if you would like to be added, tell me and I'll be happy to tag you going forward!

[r0-boat]

Dating headcanons for Kabu, Raihan, and Piers please?

Dating Headcannons for Kabu, Raihan, Piers

Sfw

Gn!reader

Cut for length

Kabu

Extremely traditional, he has the entire date planned out has a whole list of things to do and places to eat, and things to see.( more often than not already has a reservation planned)

No matter if it's your first second third or 600th the date he'll always feel nervous to take you out somewhere.

You never expected Kabu to be so romantic, he just wants to make sure you're having a good time.

Kabu's idea of a date is just as traditional a fancy dinner or somewhere quiet and go home.

The gym leader does admit that it has been sometime since he's taken someone out, and he wouldn't be surprised if dating has changed in recent years, so he would be open to anything if you decide to change it. But his first instincts will always be take you out to dinner.

Now he doesn't mind taking you places to have fun it will just take him a while to let loose a little bit. He'd much rather take it slow.

During the actual date, Kabu won't take his eyes off you; you have his full attention.

Kabu prefers taking it slow he is not interested in flings when he is with someone he is in for the long haul. He wishes for a partner to stay by his side.

Kabu says is not a jealous man but you can't help but notice his eyes seemed to Twitch when someone gets a little buddy with you.

Raihan

Raihan thrives off dates while a dinner is considered for him, it isn't his go-to.

Like the extroverted battery he is he will drag you to any place he thinks is fun and wants to bring you to. Every attraction in Galar are you two have gone to at least twice. And precious thumb drives are filled with pictures and videos of every date. The ones he posts on his social media are not even 1% of the ones he has.

Raihan is less of a list and plan guy and more of a follow your heart.

If going out isn't really your thing or going anywhere where there's a lot of people he'll try to meet in the middle because a date is successful when two people are having fun.

As much as I do see Raihan being the more extroverted going out and doing things kind of boyfriend I do think he is rather flexible with Partners who don't really want to go out.

Raihan is extremely perceptive of other people, and we'll take note of your likes and dislikes, to be completely honest he is the happiest when you're happy.

Raihan is a self-proclaimed Master at dating spots; like I said, he is highly perceptive of the people he is dating. He'll pick a place that he knows you'll like, and he'll pick up on your habits pretty quickly. He'll know when you are or not having fun.

Raihan is a very doting boyfriend anyone would be lucky to be with him.

I also see him as quite the gift-giver as well, he puts a lot of thought into every gift he gives you, ( sometimes he has Dragon brain and gives you a Shiny rock or nick nack he randomly saw and made him think of you)

Piers

Eh, to be completely honest Piers doesn't care one way or the other; if going on dates means a lot to you, then sure, he'll do it to make you happy. But Piers can spend time with you in any way he wants to without any of that fancy stuff.

A guy like him, oblivious and doesn't know what romance even is, would be very in trouble on a first date, lucky for him, his sister has his back whether he wants help or not. What kind of sister would she be if she let her brother crash and burn? And Raihan can supply good spots in Galar that have good reviews and are good dating spots

Piers classifies anything as a date, even if it's just you, too, having a lazy Sunday on the couch.

Peirs ideal date if you were to ask him he, would probably say being at home with his partner eating pizza and watching The Great Galar Bake Off.

But once in a blue moon, Piers will knock you out of the park with something you never expect from him. Taking you outside of the town and watching the Stars or Have you listen to a short song he wrote about you. You have no idea where is this comes from because usually, your Piers has no romantic bone in his body.

If you would like to take him out somewhere, sure, he'll bite. He doesn't mind either way.

Piers has a tendency to be a little protective over people he really likes.

Maybe even a little bit possessive over you specifically.

[curio-queries]

Run BTS: 045 | BTS Cafe

Original Air Date: 20 MAR 2018 Episode Length: 32:39 Total Parts: 1 YouTube English Subtitles: Yes Title Song: Blood Sweat & Tears

Synopsis: At a cafe, learning to make various drinks

Production: I do think this was a really great idea, they just had a location that wasn't the best for filming. Jin even made a cute moment of it but trying to show this kind of skill to both the guys and present to camera, not ideal with the set up they had, they really missed not having top-down footage as well. i will say the editors did great with keeping the pace going. it's not easy when there's 7 guys repeating the same thing over but I don't feel like we missed TOO much even though we know there's a lot that had to be cut.

Endearment: I've always watched this kind of content of people showing skills and trying out things they've never done before. So i realize I'm biased but I do think the guys did a good job with it. they didn't get too caught up with what they were doing that they forgot the perspective of the audience. and they're always so curious and amazed that it's easy to get drawn into the experience with them.

Winner: JN

Loser: RM

Best Cheater: I didn't see any shenanigans but it seems like there was a lot that needed to be cut for time/pacing.

Member Moments:

RM: awww, RM being proud of that lil latte. how adorable!

JN: Jin's jokes getting the staff to laugh but BTS isnt impressed until the 2nd one, then theyre all laughing too.

YG: Yoongi's quiet competence is one of my favorite traits and it shines so well in the episodes where they're learning something.

JH: is it just me or was Hobi more present during the trivia part than he usually is?

JM: of course! jimin getting rushed for being too slow. Should we be concerned about how much caffiene Jimin was getting? he was sipping on ALL of the drinks lol

V: Poor V. an entire episode about coffee when he doesnt like it. I'm there with you buddy, i dont like it either.

JK: JKs face when he tries the espresso! you can tell he WANTS to like it but he just doesn't. OF COURSE JK has too much strength tamping!

Bonus Content: Awww, Hobi said he hoped someone wore Mang's costume...🥹 Make sure you check out the bonus footage if you wanna see some of the guys taste the fancy drinks they made. Seems like they were in a rush to get to whatever they were doing after though and that's why we didn't get footage of this in the ep.

CQ Rank: 3

(CQ Eval Date: 24 JAN 2024)

Check out this post for my Masterlist of all episodes and descriptions of how I'm evaluating these.

Previous Episode: 044

Next Episode: 046

[delusional-cryptid]

What The Thunder Said: Chapter 5 Deleted scene

So, since chapter 5 was getting really long and this scene has very little plot significance, i cut it out. I still finished it tho, so here y’all go!

Same warnings as CH5: “concussion” symptoms, negative self talk, and fainting.

Keep yourselves safe, chapter is under the cut!

The next day was Cole’s turn to babysit, and they’d decided to just play videogames because it couldn't hurt, right? Well, not quite. As soon as the level had started, Jay got so dizzy he nearly threw up. So, with a tasteless joke about jumping off the Bounty, Jay was banned from videogames for the time being. And also from being above deck alone, but Cole didn't tell him that part.

Afterwards, Jay had sprawled across the entire length of the couch, havint tossed his legs over Cole’s to achieve this. Other than the surprise symptoms, it was surprisingly easy to keep Jay from hurting himself, considering how Jay seemed to lack any of his usual energy. And although it worried Cole to see Jay nearly despondent, instead of his usual bouncy, chatty self, he knew that the Blue Ninja had every reason to act this way. Especially since, from what Cole understood, he had some mystic brain damage or something.

So suffice to say that it wasn't too odd for him to be staring up at the ceiling from where he lay on the couch. Though he seemed perfectly content, Cole still worried endlessly about him, and this worry prompted Cole to check in with his friend for perhaps the millionth time.

“Are you sure youre alright? We can always do something else, if…” the Black Ninja trailed off, unsure how to continue.

“Yes, Cole,” Jay snickered, “I'm fine. Just tired, and you're fun enough just to listen to anyways,”

“Hey!” Cole scoffed in fake offense as a smile tugged at his lips, “what’s that supposed to mean?!”

“It means that you’re throwing shade to video game characters who can’t hear you, which makes you look deranged. It’s funny though, so keep it up.” Jay waved his hand for emphasis.

Cole shook his head with a laugh and turned back to the screen.

Truth be told, the light and noise was giving Jay a headache. He had thrown an arm over his eyes to block the light, but it only served as a burning reminder of Jay's time in the departed realm. So he settled to remove his arm and just squeeze his eyes closed to try and shut out the horrible flashing light.

Eyes still fixed on the screen, Cole’s voice arose to suggest “hey, after this level we should head to the kitchen, it’s almost lunch!”

Jay distractedly hummed an assent and moved his legs off of Cole's lap and onto the floor before using one arm to push himself up into a standing position. As soon as he moved, so did that now familiar dizziness. All of the blood rushed away from his head and black splotches crowded his vision and Jay reached out for the arm of the couch.

His fingertips brushed the worn fabric, and he pitched forward.

Cole briefly glanced up, eye caught by the motion. His muscles seized with terror as Jay fell, and Cole didn’t have to think before his body moved. The controller clattered to the ground, discarded, as the Earth Ninja practically threw himself off the couch to stop Jay from hitting the ground face first.

The man lunged, half tackling Jay before scooping the Blue Ninja into his arms and righting them both. Cole gingerly laid his partially-conscious friend back on the couch. Even though the Black Ninja was terrified, and way out of his depth, he knew he had to handle this. There was no use shouting for help, the other occupants of the bounty were either out running various errands, or much too far away to hear. So it was all on him… no pressure.

“Jay? Jay! Hey, you okay?” Cole asked, nudging Jay’s shoulder. The Blue Ninja only groaned in response, which did nothing for the buzzing anxiety in Cole’s heart. “Buddy I need you to talk to me, okay? Whats goin’ on?” As much as the Black Ninja tried to force down the panic invading his voice, there remained a small twinge of fear within his otherwise calm words.

“Hnng-” Jay whined incohesively, “Itsuhnubefine…”

Cole couldn't help but laugh at that, Jay was trying so hard to comfort him, even if Cole could barely understand a single word that fell from his friend’s lips.

“Blue- come on, I’m not the one who’s barely conscious. Just-” Cole let out a relieved sigh, “yeah, you'll be okay…”

You have to be.

The last bit went unsaid, leaving an empty space hanging in the air. Cole doubted that Jay noticed, hell, he kind of hoped Jay hadn’t. The Lightning Elemental showed no sign that he had understood, instead taking Cole’s silence as an opportunity. It only took another short moment before Jay was trying, not for the first time and certainly not the last, to get up.

Cole, on the other hand, was having absolutely none of that. As soon as Jay moved to prop himself up on one arm, Cole shoved him back down onto the couch. He didn't do it roughly, he hadn't needed to, all it really took was a light push to the shoulder to knock Jay back down.

By then, the Master of Earth could barely think through the heavy fog of worry that clouded his mind.

“Yeah. no.” was all Cole could think to say, it seemed to suffice, though, because Jay stayed down.

He didn't stay quiet though.

“But Cole! Im fine!” Jay whined, batting away his friend’s hand as it appeared by his wrist, seeking a pulse.

“No, you’re not! What's your deal, man? You need- no- Jay!” Cole finished with a frustrated groan.

This time, through pure stupid luck, Jay did manage to push himself up, just enough so that he could lean against the arm of the couch.

“No worries!” Jay grinned, tone laced with misplaced calmness, “see? I’m okay!”

Cole deadpanned, “bullshit. I'm gonna call Zane-”

Waving his hands around, Jay laughed tersely “No! No, no, no, theres no need for that! Like I said, totally fine!”

“Jay.” Cole scolded. His tone was firm, but not unkind. Not even anger could twist his cold fear into anything more than increasingly-potent distress, born purely of care.

Jay broke, then. At the audible anguish in his friend’s voice, he couldn't stand to dismiss this anymore. It was his fault that Cole was so upset, so worried, so sad sounding.

“Okay… its- It really isn't a big deal, it's not like I haven’t passed out before-”

“WHAT?” Cole shouted desperately.

Jay winced at the volume, “I said it's no big deal!”

He tried his best to placate the Earth Ninja, and failed miserably. There was a long silence where Cole refused to meet his eyes, and with every passing second that they sat there in a horribly tense silence, the dreadful sense that Jay had royally fucked up grew more and more.

Cole broke the silence, “How many times?”

Jays mind stuttered, “only… well, three, now.”

“Jay, its only been three days.”

He laughed awkwardly and averted his gaze, “yeah, I- yeah…”

Cole sighed and placed his head in his hands.

Ohh boy, I am soo screwed… Jay thought grimly. Someone, maybe not Cole, but someone, was gonna kill him for this.

When Cole spoke next, Jay could hardly stop himself from curling in on himself and hiding away from the world.

The man had sounded so heartbroken, and completely helpless when he asked; “Why didn't you tell us?”

With one breath, Jay considered lying again.

With the next, he let go and allowed the truth to all but rush out from his lips.

“I… I’ve already been so… useless, lately, and I didn’t want you guys to worry any more than you already have to, cause I know needing to take care of me sucks and I’m trying to get better so you guys don't have to keep babying me, cause, like, I know I’m the weakest of everyone but its not fair for you all to need to pull that extra weight, especially now that i'm even more useless than before and I just hate burdening you all so much and I just figured that if you didn't know about it then it would all turn out okay!”

Upon seeing Cole’s crestfallen expression, Jay tried to fix it. “Uh... or, something like that…”

This one moment of true honesty was never going to unfurl years and years of subtle white lies that have only spun a thin cocoon to protect Jay, his true feelings and fears, and keep them far away from anyone he could hurt. Jay knew that well, but at least he could do this. Even if it seemed like a mistake, even if it seemed like it had only hurt the ones he loved most.

Right as Jay was about to laugh it off, make some joke, completely invalidate everything he just admitted to, he was hit by a wall of warmth and smothered in a crushing embrace. After a moment of stunned hesitation, Jay returned the hug. He buried his face into Cole’s shoulder to try and force back the tears that burned behind his eyes. He didnt know why he was crying. He shouldn’t be. Neither man moved for a long moment, the stillness only broken by Cole’s soft words.

“Youre not useless, or weak, or a burden. You never were. We- I would take care of you for as long as you need, so long as you're here. Alive.”

The genuine worry-laced compassion in his friend’s voice tore Jay's heart and his careful facade finally shattered.

Before he could stop it, tears were falling from Jay's eyes like rain in a thunderstorm and soaking invisibly into the black fabric of Cole’s shirt. The same fabric that Jay twisted in his tight grasp as silent, stuttering sobs shook his newly fragile body.

Jay couldn't do it, couldnt do this. How was he meant to live with all his friends telling him how worried they were, how happy they were that he was alive, and how much they cared for him, only to leave them so soon. And leave them without any idea why, too. Maybe it’d make it easier for them if they knew the stakes. If they knew Jay had chosen this. Something told him that they'd suffer all the same. There was no good option, and it wasn't fair.

Jay curled further into the embrace as a fresh wave of tears fell.

Cole kindly indulged him until Jay was ready to let go. It took a while, even after Jay's tears dried and his breathing steadied, he couldn't make himself move away from the warm heartbeat that calmed his mind.

But once Jay finally did pull away, Cole didn’t fully let him go. He held the Blue Ninja at arms length and even though Jay refused to meet his eyes, he knew Cole was basically studying him.

Cautiously, the other man started, “when everyone gets back, I’m gonna tell Lloyd and Zane-“

“Cole-“

“No one else has to know unless you want them to. But Lloyd and Zane need to know.” The Black Ninja elaborated firmly, “Lloyd’s our leader, and whether you like it or not, it’s on him if you get hurt. Zane’s our acting medic now that you’re out of commission, so he needs to know too. Sound good?”

“No. But fine, tell them.”

“I will. Now, are you okay?”

“Everyone keeps asking that. Yes, Cole, I’m fine.”

“I still don’t believe you, but okay. Wanna put on something stupid and take a nap?”

Jay nodded, so Cole retook his spot on the couch and found some old movie for them to watch.

—

When the other three ninja returned from their weekly grocery run, Zane broke away for a moment to check in with the two who had stayed home. only to find Cole in the living room pinned beneath a sleeping Jay with a hand buried in the his friend’s hair. Zane softly laughed at the glare Cole shot him at the click of his camera.

The look didn't stick, because Cole waved him over and whispered for him to get Lloyd, which Zane did. Once they’d both returned, Cole launched into his hushed explanation of the day's events. He told them that Jay had passed out trying to stand up, and that it wasn’t the first time.

“I’m really worried about him, he kept talking about not wanting to be useless and weak and… I didn’t know what to do.” Cole frowned at his sleeping friend, “I can't believe he didn’t tell us…”

“It’s not too unexpected for Jay to have fainting spells, however, I agree. It’s quite worrying that he didn’t say anything about it.”

Lloyd just nodded along, worry etched into lines on his face as he tried to come up with some way to help Jay.

He drew a blank, “I really don’t know what to do if he won’t let us help him…”

“Oh! That’s another thing, he doesn’t want anyone else to know. He- he said he feels guilty about burdening us, but he didn't really listen when I tried to tell him otherwise…”

“And if he managed to hide this, it’s possible that there are other things that he’s not telling us.” Zane added thoughtfully, he didn’t mean for it to cause any more anxiety in the other two (waking) ninja, but they exchanged a mirrored look of cold fear at the possibility of some devastating unknown.

“I think we just need to keep a close eye on him for now.” Zane amended.

Lloyd and Cole both assented, already fixing their minds on ways to help their loved one. It’d be difficult to take care of him, especially when he fought them every step of the way, but they could all be just as stubborn when they wanted to be.

Maybe everything would turn out fine. Besides, once he was healed, everything could finally go back to normal!

[xoteajays]

desire, how it burns

ship:  karube daikichi x niragi suguru, niragi suguru x male!oc word count:  ~10 000 words. ao3:  link.  tags: nsfw, m dni, explicit content below the cut, full tags on ao3. —  fic request: so they're at the beach, and there's this new militant guy that joins and has some kind of interest in niragi and kinda just likes to follow him around. at this point, karube and niragi are only fuck buddies but karube's caught feelings and gets jealous because the new guy keeps hanging around niragi. chaps 3+4 of rotten work aren't required reading for this, but it explains a bit about karube and niragi's whole situation. — ** reblogs, likes/kudos, and comments appreciated!! — other karube x niragi fics here!!

Karube thinks nothing of Koma the first time he sees him.

He’s coming off a fresh win of a game - pausing to look around and see if he can find where Arisu is - when he sees the stranger walking with Aguni. He’s blonde, the colour a little paler than Karube’s own hair, and stands a fraction shorter than Aguni. He’s not dressed for the Beach, so Karube assumes he’s new.

It’s not often Aguni brings in new people. He’s a little bit curious, but other than that, Karube doesn’t waste any thoughts on him at all. He finds Arisu and Usagi and Kuina and he forgets all about the stranger - until he appears again.

The morning militant meetings are dull. Aguni orders them around, assigns a couple of them to go and search for games in the evening, sometimes a few gets sent to join the other Beach residents and find food, and that’s that. This morning, the stranger is there, standing at Aguni’s side. He sways a little on his feet, casual and relaxed as the militants gather around, unfazed by their curious glances.

His t-shirt is a size or two too large, worn underneath a rumpled sun-paled flannel with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There’s a stain of bruises over the knuckles of one hand. His hair is blonde-ish and wavy, unstyled and messy. He’s got sharp features. Around his neck hangs a thin silver chain and a bracelet dangles on his wrist.  Karube supposes he’s attractive, in a way.

“This is Koma, he’s joining us from today,” Aguni introduces laxly. The stranger - Koma - bobs on his head in a polite nod. “Niragi, show him the ropes.”

Immediately, Niragi is jumping to complain, but Karube isn’t listening to him. Instead, his attention is drawn to the way Koma is looking at Niragi once he stalks forward to nag Aguni. There’s some kind of interest lighting up his gaze. His dark eyes drag over the entire length of Niragi. Koma looks about ready to eat him.

Something twangs confusingly in Karube’s chest and his teeth grit slightly.

Niragi loses his argument with Aguni and huffs out a rough sigh. His head quirks to look at Koma, who’s own gaze immediately jumps to meet Niragi’s and then he smiles at him.

“Don’t get in my way,” he says sharply. Koma’s smile quirks a little at the corner and he nods.

“Okay.”

Aguni waves them all away, bored with them as usual. Sometimes it seemed like he didn’t want to bother with them at all. Karube doesn’t blame him. Niragi turns heel to walk away and Koma follows after him. The image of a puppy bounding along and nipping at heels jumps into Karube’s head just watching it.

Huffing out a breath, he leaves to go find his friends.

As far as Niragi’s concerned, this is babysitting duty. It must be some kind of abstract punishment from Aguni for something Niragi can’t be bothered to figure out. Whatever the reason, he’s got this new guy following him around now. 

Despite himself, Niragi can’t help but recognise the obvious: Koma’s hot, plain and simple. Slightly grown out, bleach blonde hair that’s parted in the middle and falls in loose waves around his temples. He’s got a silver earring in one ear, matching his necklace and bracelet, it all catches the early morning light. Pretty. He’s a bit shorter than Niragi, by maybe an inch.

In his periphery as they walk, he keeps noticing Koma looking at him. When Niragi turns his head to look back at him, his gaze doesn’t leap away with the embarrassment of a normal person being caught. He meets Niragi’s eyes for a long beat, then he looks away, casually glancing over their surroundings. Niragi’s brows crease, confused, but he says nothing.

“I hope I don’t bother you too much. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Ask me to jump and I jump, you know?” Koma rambles cheerily.

“You follow orders that easily?” Niragi queries back. Koma smiles, a flash of pearly teeth.

“If the right person is ordering me,” he replies smoothly.

Slight amusement glints into Niragi’s eyes, a quiet snort escaping him. The guy’s not exactly subtle. Shaking it off, Niragi pushes on. There’s a lot of places around the Beach to show Koma and he wants to get it over with quickly before Aguni can get on his case about not doing as he’s told.

Koma keeps pace with him the entire time. He lopes along with a kind of spring in his step. Where Niragi carelessly barrels through people, Koma dodges easily around them. There’s a polite smile ever-present on his face, even towards other militants who only return with glowers or completely ignoring him. Even that doesn’t seem to faze him.

What Niragi quickly figures out is that he’s nice, which surprises him. The majority of the militants weren’t nice. Hell, even Karube could be rough around the edges when pushed the wrong way. When Karube and Niragi fought, it certainly wasn’t just verbal. From just the look of Koma, Niragi isn’t exactly sure what Aguni saw in him, though he can’t be bothered to ask. It’s not his business. If Aguni wanted him around, then he was sticking around and Niragi would just have to deal with it.

Standing on the balcony closer to mid-afternoon, Koma rests with his forearms on the railing and peers towards the pool. Niragi leans his hip against the railing. It’s a slow hour. People are still just relaxing. By nightfall, the place will be in full swing for everyone who isn’t being sent off to a game. Niragi had never really bothered with it. It’s not particularly his scene, even in the real world. 

“There’s a lot of pretty girls around,” Koma starts, his tone casual. His gaze flicks towards Niragi, looking up through his dark lashes, “Have you got a girlfriend?”

That’s forward. Niragi blinks at him, surprised. He huffs humourlessly.

“No.”

“Boyfriend?”

There’s a long enough pause of silence that Niragi can’t convincingly say that he’s ‘not gay’ or ‘not into guys’.

“No.”

For a brief second, Karube jumps into his mind. Niragi doesn’t bring him up and forces the thoughts away, swallowing thickly against the stirring that even just the thought of Karube alights. Their ‘situation’ was private. Just sex, sure, but he wasn’t about to go blabbing about it to anyone.

Koma, meanwhile, seems pleased by the answer.

Later, Niragi flops back onto the mattress, and Karube rolls off him and onto the bed beside him. He runs a hand through his sweaty blonde hair, mussing it. Niragi’s eyes flit closed as he tries to catch his breath. He’s waiting for the shift of the mattress, a sign of Karube getting up to leave like he usually does when they’re both satisfied. Karube always recovers quicker and they go back to their usual dynamic, snapping and sarcastic. 

“So, how’s the new guy?” Karube asks, voice breaking the quiet of their breathing.

“Are we having conversations now after this?” Niragi retorts, tired.

“It was just a question.”

Niragi considers bringing up the fact that Koma has asked if he was messing around with anyone, but what would be the point? Karube and Niragi weren’t really anything to each other, they didn’t belong to each other. The ‘friends’ part of ‘friends-with-benefits’ didn’t exactly apply to them outside of the context of the label.

“There’s got to be something wrong with him. He’s nice. Nobody that nice survives here,” Niragi says instead. Karube laughs.

Karube considers mentioning that Koma was checking Niragi out that morning, but Niragi couldn’t possibly be so dense that he didn’t notice. He pushes down the weird feeling it had brought up in his chest. The one he didn’t quite understand. It’s just sex with Niragi, it’s not like he actually likes him or anything. That’d be ridiculous.

There’s a shift on the mattress and one of Niragi’s eyes open, peering sideways. His gaze flickers over the bare tanned expanse of Karube’s back as he sits up. Niragi watches quietly as Karube stands to get dressed. It’s a familiar sight. Karube is always the one to leave, usually forced out by Niragi. He hauls his t-shirt on over his head, crumpling his Hawaiian shirt in his hand. As he passes by the foot of the bed, he claps a hand on Niragi’s ankle, his fingers trailing.

He leaves without another word. Niragi sighs, the sound loud in his solus. Shoving a hand through her loose hair, he stares up at the ceiling. For minutes after, he can still feel the warmth of Karube’s hand over the bones of his ankle.

“You don’t play a lot of diamond games, do you?”

Niragi is driving them back to the Beach. The sun has long since set and he’s guiding the car down the dark roads with practiced ease, it’s not as if he hasn’t driven the same roads a dozen times over during his time with the Beach. In the passenger seat, Koma is twirling a diamond playing card between his fingers. At Niragi’s question, he goes a little pink over the ears, his head ducking slightly in embarrassment,

“Heh, is it that obvious?” He replies, rubbing a hand up the side of his neck. “My parents always said my older brother was the smarter one.”

There’s a kind of bitterness in his tone when he says it. For a moment, his smile slips, eyes darkening, but he quickly perks back up and grins crookedly at Niragi.

“You’re, like, super smart though! I would’ve been totally lost in there without you.”

It’s not often Niragi is complimented on his brains in this world. Most seem to view him as solely chaotic, just insane and violent, better suited for spades instead of diamonds. Niragi supposes he doesn’t blame them. It is a front he puts up. Not like any of them cared to get to know him anyway.

“It’s nothing. Aguni would’ve been pissed at me anyway if I let his newest recruit die in his first game since joining up,” Niragi replies casually. Koma shakes his head roughly.

“No, seriously, I mean it! I would’ve been dead in there. I totally owe you one. I’ve got your back in the next game, I swear, you can count on me.”

He’s like a puppy, excitable, rambling like he’s making noise just to get attention. In a way, it’s cute. He’s twisted almost entirely to the side in the passenger seat to look at Niragi, half leaning across the center console. Huffing a laugh, Niragi rolls his eyes and plants a hand on Koma’s chest to push him back into the passenger side.

“Okay, whatever, calm down.” Niragi’s voice doesn’t hold it’s usual sharp edge. What can he say? Koma’s endeared himself. Niragi’s as much a sucker for genuine flattery as he is for heady roughness.

Niragi’s digging through the food stocks that have been brought back. The militants usually get first pick, after Hatter and the executives of course. The regular Beach goers have no choice but to go along with it. The militants had their weapons, they were stronger, more violent - and, so long as they left enough stuff for the regulars, Hatter didn’t bother to complain.

Close at Niragi’s side, Koma is peering over the various meals. He prods things around, but mostly keeps his hands to himself, seemingly waiting for Niragi to pick first. He hums quietly and Niragi’s gaze flickers towards him. Koma’s gaze shifts up, meeting his curious eyes.

“There’s a kitchen here, right?” He asks.

“Yeah, why?” Niragi answers, looking back at the noodle bowls, picking through them.

“Anything in it? Food-wise?”

“Like, spices and crap. Nothing much. Again, why?” He picks up an instant ramen, the plastic crinkling in his hands. He eyes Koma, who’s grinning now. Plucking up a bowl at random, Koma then grabs Niragi’s wrist, turning to tug him away from the pile of food.

After a few long strides, Koma pauses, as if suddenly realising he’s not sure which direction he should be going and he looks back at Niragi, round puppy-dog-eyed. With an amused roll of his eyes, Niragi takes over to lead him along. Koma doesn’t let go of his wrist.

His hand is warm.

Eventually they’re pushing through the swinging doors of the kitchen. It’s a sterile, clean area. A little dusty in some spots. Nobody really bothers to go in there. Most of the meals that get brought back can either be eaten right out of the packaging or cooked with simply hot water, so the kitchen was left fairly unused.

Koma tosses his noodle box onto the steel counter, walking around to check out the kitchen. He turns a dial on the stove top, smiling as it clicks to life before flicking it off. Crouching, he picks around the pots and pans until he finds a large enough one, placing it on the stove top. Niragi sets his own instant ramen on the counter, tugging his rifle strap off over his head and putting it down too. While watching Koma, he pushes himself up to sit on the counter, his long legs swinging.

Koma hauls open a cupboard, digging through spice jars and oil bottles. He’s humming quietly to himself. Gathering a few into his arm, he nudges the cupboard closed then turn back to set the things on the counter. Turning to rinse the pot out then fill it with water, he puts it filled back on the stove and flicks the flame on.

“You don’t mind spicy stuff, right?” Koma asks. Niragi shrugs.

“I mean, I’m not a masochist about it.”

Koma just laughs. Leaning against the counter across from Niragi, his gaze turns, focusing on a slightly dusty line of knifes hanging from a magnetic strip. He reaches up and plucks a utility knife off the strip with a quiet shing.

“I was a chef, you know? Back in the real world. My father owns the place, but I’ve been working there for years.” His hand steadily twirls the blade. It glints in the dim light. Niragi just watches him, quiet.

“My father, he wants my brother to take over the restaurant. Because he’s older, Father thinks he’s smarter. It’s stupid, he doesn’t even want anything to do with the restaurant, he’d bury the place in a matter of months - if he even lasted that long.” There’s a coldness that takes over Koma’s tone, a sudden seriousness Niragi hadn’t realised Koma was capable of.

“I’d be a better owner, but he doesn’t want to listen to me. Hidehiko has barely even worked a day at the restaurant. He’d sell it the second he had his name on it and Father was cold in the ground.” There’s a dark blankness smoking across Koma’s eyes, his gaze locked down on the sharp edge of the knife. His hand curls into a tight fist around the knife’s hilt.

The boiling water burbles and he seems to come back to himself. A blink and it’s like the coldness had never been there at all. He sets the knife back on the strip with a small click. The crease of a smirk crosses his lips. He pushes back to the counter, ripping open the packages to dump the noodles and flavour packets in the pot.

“It’s a shame we don’t have any eggs. Hey, if we get out of this world, you should come by the restaurant, I’ll make you something,” he says cheerily.

There’s a quick surprised blink from Niragi at the sudden switch up, but he nods anyway. Koma smiles at him, then turns his attention back to the pot. After a few minutes and adding in the extras ingredients, he’s dishing it out and setting a warm bowl in Niragi’s hands. Koma stares, waiting expectantly for Niragi to take a bite. 

It’s delicious. Niragi perks up.

“Good?” Koma asks. Niragi nods sharply, already sucking up another large bite, ignoring the heat.

“It’s great.”

Koma bounces on his toes, smiling and giddy at the compliment. He pushes up onto the counter to sit next to Niragi, plucking up his own bowl. His leg bumps against Niragi’s as he swings it. They eat in peaceful silence, but Niragi’s thoughts are wonder back to the darkness in Koma’s eyes.

Clearly, there’s more than meets the eye with him.

It’s been a little over a week since Koma arrived. 

There’s a scowl on Karube’s face. It’s stupid. He doesn’t know why he cares. He shouldn’t. It’s stupid.

Sitting on a pool lounge, not even listening as the other three talk, he’s watching Niragi … and Koma. Karube’s tongue presses against the backs of his clenched teeth. His fingers are tense around his can of beer, almost crunching it under the force. There’s a confusing boiling right in the pit of his stomach; like a hot ball of iron, it weighs heavy in his gut and is the only thing keeping him on the lounge and not storming over towards the pair.

Koma might as well have just dumped himself in Niragi’s lap with how close he’s sitting to him.

Sitting away by themselves, they’re laughing about something, smirks curved on their faces, covertly joking with each other. Karube watches Koma bump against Niragi’s shoulder, leaning against his bicep for just a fraction too long. After chugging back the last half of his beer, Karube crumples it in his hand and gets up.

“I’m gonna get another drink,” he cuts in. Kuina quirks a brow and nods, but Karube is already quickly stalking away.

He’s digging around the drinks, looking for something stronger when he notices in his periphery that Niragi and Koma are walking away.

His mouth twists. He shouldn’t follow them. He should just go back to Arisu, Kuina, and Usagi. His fingers tense around the neck of a bottle. It’s none of his business what Niragi does. They’re not dating, Niragi’s not his, they have no possession of each other. Niragi can do whatever he wants with whoever he wants.

Despite all that, Karube clacks the bottle down on the bar and turns heel to follow them anyway.

He catches sight of them just as they’re turning away down a corner. His pace stays on the slow side, trying to appear casual. Some of the beach-goers he’s friendly with try to drag him into conversations or to do shots with them and he does his best to be polite in denying them while not slowing down.

Turning down the corner, he’s not sure what he’s expecting to find. There’s a large kitchen at the end of the short hall. It’s been practically unused the entire time that Karube’s been here. It’s wasn’t like anyone actually cooked at the Beach. It’s got swinging doors and small windows and Karube walks slowly up to peer through one. His jaw clenches and he swallows thickly.

Niragi is pinned up against the wall. Koma’s hand is shoved underneath his shirt, his head is tucked down towards Niragi’s throat. Niragi’s hand is curled in his blonde waves. His head is tilted back, his eyes are closed, his mouth is curved open around what Karube can only imagine is a moan. Karube watches him tug on Koma’s hair, hard enough to pull him back from his neck. What happens next makes Karube’s chest hurt like he’s been punched in the sternum.

Koma kisses him.

Karube’s hands curl into fists and he turns to walk away. He doesn’t give any attention to anybody else, just keeps walking until he stops inside his room, the door clicking shut behind him. His jaw is clenched so hard his teeth hurt. He uncurls his hands from tense fists, ignoring the relief from the sting from his blunt nails digging into his palms.

He’s never kissed Niragi.

Of course he hadn’t. It was just sex. They weren’t in a relationship.

So why the fuck was he so mad?

In a way, it’s easy with Koma. In a way that it’s not with Karube. 

With Karube, there’s more of a push, a roughness, a secrecy. Karube was one of few decent people at the Beach, and he and Niragi had been at each other’s throats since the moment they’d met. Everyone that Karube was friends with hated Niragi, and, to be fair, he hated them too. Everything they did, they did in private, hidden away from prying eyes, and they never talked about it.

Koma’s different. He’s more like Niragi. He’s unfazed about whether he’s liked or not by the Beach residents. He cared more to be liked by Niragi, and didn’t seem to mind who knew that. And Niragi does like him. Or he likes being liked by him. He doesn’t care to figure out which it is.

Especially not now when Koma’s got him pressed against the cool wall of the kitchen, straining the buttons of his shirt as he shoves a hand underneath it. His hand is warm as it creeps up his stomach, sliding smoothly. Leaning his head back, Niragi gives Koma more access to his neck. Koma’s tongue drags in a line up his throat, he presses kisses over his skin. Niragi feels the curve of a smile against neck, then Koma latches his mouth on. There’s the slightest scrape of teeth, but he doesn’t bite. Niragi relishes in the feeling.

Reaching a hand up, he curls his hand into Koma’s hair. It’s soft against his palm, slipping between his fingers. He tugs and Koma makes a small noise. A low quiet moan. Another pull, rougher, and Koma moves back. His dark gaze meets Niragi’s, intense.

Wordless, Koma lunges forward to kiss him.

For a moment, Niragi’s surprised, then he leans into it. He can’t remember the last time he was kissed, let alone like this. Koma’s hand  slides up the side of his neck and cups his cheek, his thumb glides over it. It’s soft, gentle in a way Niragi isn’t used to. Hand still gripped in Koma’s hair, he yanks hard enough for Koma to gasp so he can slip his pierced tongue into his mouth.

Twisting, Niragi flips them, shoves Koma up against the wall. He licks into Koma’s mouth. Koma’s tongue meets his. There’s a sweetness in his mouth, something unknown clinging around from whatever mixed drinks he’d been chugging down all night. Niragi’s only slightly buzzed himself, Koma is drunker. It’s makes his kissing clumsy, his skin flushed warm and pink. Niragi can’t help but think he’s cute. He’ll likely have to help him get back to his room later, but for now, Niragi just keeps kissing him.

Koma’s hands paw down his shirt, tugging at the belt loops on his pants. He ruts slightly against Niragi’s thigh, moaning against his mouth. Breaking the kiss, he stares at Niragi, panting quietly.

“Can I -” he swallows thickly, trying to catch his breath, his mouth wet, “Can I suck your dick?” 

His voice is desperate and Niragi almost moans at the sound of it. Pulling on Koma’s hair, he forces him down to his knees, other hand already fumbling for the buckle of his belt. Koma’s hands slide up the sides of his thighs, grabbing the waistband of Niragi’s jeans, trying to pull them down before Niragi even has the chance to fully unzip them.

His cock bounces off Koma’s pink cheek. He doesn’t even flinch. His tongue swipes out across his bottom lip, then he leans in to drag it up Niragi’s length, tasting him. Tilting his head back, he meets Niragi’s eyes as he sinks his mouth down over cock.

Karube manages to catch Niragi alone in the early morning. He’s waiting by himself in the early morning sun. As usual, he’s the first out to wait for the meeting. Aguni’s usually late anyway, so Karube doesn’t get why Niragi’s always on time. Today, however, it works in Karube’s favour since it doesn’t seem like Koma’s an early bird. 

Niragi’s head is dipped back against the column, eyes closed against the light, his breathing relaxed. Despite the gun in his grip, he looks otherwise peaceful. Karube doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting his gaze trail over Niragi. He’s pretty. It’s frustrating. His eyes dip down from Niragi’s face to immediately settle on a mark on his neck.

“You’re staring,” Niragi drawls. Karube attention flicks up to his face again before he quickly looks away.

“You’ve got a hickey,” Karube says, trying to keep the ire out of his tone. Niragi lifts a hand to his collar, pulling it higher to try and conceal the mark.

“So?”

“Just pointing it out.” The words come out bitterly.

It wasn’t like hickeys and bite marks were uncommon on Niragi. Karube had left his fair share. Apparently, now that it wasn’t a mark left by him, it bothers Karube. He doesn’t want to call it ‘jealousy’, that feels childish, like he’s in high school. Besides, he can’t say anything. He and Niragi had never agreed that they weren’t allowed to fool around with anybody else.

“Good morning!” An annoying, familiar voice cuts in.

Koma lopes over to them, smiling. He steps around to stand at Niragi’s other side, seemingly unbothered or just not noticing the glower Karube is directing his way. Niragi’s head turns to look at him, a smile pulling on his lips.

Karube jams his hands into his pockets and looks away from them, tension tightening in his shoulders.

A couple days pass but Karube can’t get it out of his head. The hickey is stained behind his eyes. He can’t stop thinking about it. Koma kissing Niragi, leaving his mark on Niragi. It’s frustrating. It doesn’t help that Niragi and Koma keep hanging around each other every day. There’s a smile on Niragi’s face that’s more genuine than intimidating when he looks at Koma. 

He’s lost in his thoughts, sitting on a pool bench, his elbows leaned on his thighs. Suddenly there’s something cold and wet pressed against his cheek and he jolts. Looking up, he finds Kuina chuckling at him. She waggles a beer can at him, the condensation on the side of it smudged. He takes it and she drops onto the seat next to him.  He cracks open the beer open, sipping it. She does the same, then knocks her elbows into his bicep.

“Okay. So what’s going on with you?” She asks. Karube doesn’t look at her, but there’s a nervous twitch in his hands, pressing his thumb against the thin metal of the can. “C’mon, dude. You’ve been acting weird for days. I bet Arisu would’ve noticed too if he wasn’t all goo-goo eyes at Usagi.”

…She’s going to be mad.

He takes a deep breath, then sighs and slumps back against the bench. The sun’s warm against his face, for a moment, it’s enough to distract him. Like he could be anywhere else and none of this was happening and Koma didn’t exist to be getting in his nerves.

Squeezing his eyes closed, he explains.

“You’ve been fucking Niragi?!” She practically shrieks when he finishes speaking. Karube jams forward to shush her, knocking roughly against her side. 

“Jeez, say it louder, Kuina, I’d like the whole of the Beach to know,” he snaps sarcastically.

There’s a range of emotions quickly flickering over Kuina’s face, her expression shifting. It turns to disgust more often than not. Her face scrunches and Karube works his jaw, waiting for her to work through her thoughts. She rubs her hand over her face, plucks the unlit cigarette from over her ear to shove it in her mouth, no doubt wishing it was lit.

“Niragi? The Niragi who’s a total dick to everyone? Niragi who’s a psycho? Niragi who you practically physically fight with every other day - god, what? Is that like foreplay for you guys?” Karube says nothing, but there’s a twitch in his expression, a shift in his gaze, and Kuina screws up her face again. “Oh gross, Karube!”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t have to!”

“Help without the judgement, please, Kuina.”

She strains her hand over her face again, then chugs half her beer. Karube lifts his own beer too. He looks sideways at her. It’s the reaction he’d expected from her - from anyone really. It was half the reason why he’d kept it to himself this whole time. Niragi isn’t the most likeable guy but … maybe Karube does like him, in some fucked up way.

Kuina sighs, a long dragging exhale.

“I really thought you had better taste, but fuck … Niragi? Really? I mean, that guy?” Kuina motions across the pool to where Niragi is.  He’s arguing with some random Beach goer, though Karube isn’t sure about what and isn’t close enough to hear. It hasn’t come to blows and Niragi hasn’t even pulled his rifle up to make idle threats yet, so Karube has no real reason to step in.

A slight frown creases Karube’s expression.

Koma’s standing beside Niragi, seeming giddy by the excitement. His lips are pulled back in a grin, hyena-esque. He’s frustratingly gleeful, and not necessarily coaxing Niragi on, but not making any attempt to stop him either.

“God, you actually like him, don’t you?” Kuina cuts in, dragging his attention back. He shifts stiffly, his gaze flicking away from her.

“…No.”

Kuina groans.

“Ugh, you do!”

“Kuina,” he drags out. This judgement from her wasn’t helping.

“Jeez, sorry, but I mean -  it’s Niragi!”

“I know! I’d also like for it to not be Niragi but - I just -”

He trails off with a rough sigh. Silence takes over again. The pair sit in it, slowly sipping their beers, the sun warming their skin. Karube’s gaze flicks back towards Niragi and Koma. The frown draws back to his face.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” Kuina says finally. Karube’s lips flatten into a line. He quickly chugs the rest of his beer and crumples the can, standing up off the bench.

“I’m going to go deal with this fight before it gets out of hand.”

He completely ignores the question. Kuina notices, but doesn’t bother to push. It’s obvious he doesn’t really want to talk deeply about it, and she doesn’t know how to offer any advice that’s not laced with her own prejudice anyway.

As he starts to walk off towards Niragi, he calls back over his shoulder to Kuina.

“Don’t tell anyone - especially Arisu!”

“Oh trust me! I don’t want to be repeating any of this conversation!”

It’s not the first time Karube’s had to step in to stop a fight. He’s the only one who ever bothers to. The other militants didn’t care and the regular Beach residents weren’t brave enough to face off against any of the weapon-toting militants. They know it wouldn’t end well for them, so they don’t even try. So when fights break out, it’s usually the fault of the militants, because they’re bored or blowing something out of proportion. 

It’s about power, Karube had noticed, especially with Niragi. Karube’s not exactly sure why, but power was something Niragi wielded excitedly. Sometimes it surprises Karube how easily he could force Niragi to give it up when it came to the privacy of his bedroom.  It’s a side of Niragi only he gets to see.

It’s not the one he’s facing now. The bordering-on-sadistic Niragi, domineering situations that he’s made for himself. Most people tried to stay out of Niragi’s line of sight for exactly this reason, but it always ends the same way. Niragi gets his fight someway or another, which means Karube has to step up.

He doesn’t hesitate to step in between Niragi and the other guy, going as far as to grip the barrel of Niragi’s pointed rifle and force it aside. There’s a burning flicker that lights Niragi’s eyes when they land on Karube. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, slow and languid, sunlight catching on the piercing.

The rifle drops to the side, hanging loosely, and Niragi straightens up, his movements smooth in comparison to Karube’s tenser frame. Reaching behind him, Karube shoves the guy to get him moving away.

“Thanks Karube,” he stutters out before quickly skittering away.

“Don’t go too far,” Niragi calls after him, but he doesn’t seem to mind his escaped prey. His eyes don’t leave Karube.

In his periphery, Karube catches sight of a disappointed frown that creases Koma’s features for a moment before he focuses in on Karube instead. He seems excited at the thought of seeing Niragi in a fight, no matter who it’s with.

Whip-quick, Karube grabs Niragi by the front of his shirt, hauling him in close. It’d be easy to throw a punch, wrestle him around. It wouldn’t be the first time. Hell, often, Niragi seemed to enjoy it, getting his own hits in too.

Pulled in this close, he can feel Niragi’s breath on his face. He can see the curve of his smile, the flick of his tongue. It stirs something in Karube, a jealous lapping flame just beneath the skin, remembering Koma kissing Niragi. Niragi kissing Koma.

And that fucking mark on his neck.

“Just give it up and back off already,” Karube drawls out, forcing his gaze to Niragi’s eyes and not seeking out the hickey. Niragi leans against his gripping hand, Karube can feel the warmth of his body. His free hand flexes at his side.

“You wanna take his place?” He bites back. Karube smirks with a quiet huff through his nose.

“You’d lose.”

Niragi grins.

Karube’s not sure who moves first, but at some point he’s being knocked to the ground and Niragi’s shirt slips out of his grip and the tousle begins.

Some part of Karube thinks maybe Niragi won’t open the door for him. That Niragi had found enough fun in brawling Karube and sought an afterparty in Koma, throwing Karube to the wayside. He almost expects to find Koma in Niragi’s room. When he instead finds Niragi alone, he could’ve thanked every god listening. 

Wordless, he lunges for Niragi, grabbing at him. He’s starving for him, clawing into his shirt, mouthing over his neck. He wants to kiss him, to force him to forget everything about Koma and prove that he was better, that Niragi didn’t need Koma.

But kissing him now runs the risk of getting kicked out. And Karube can’t risk that. So he settles for biting and licking over his neck.

Niragi doesn’t complain, just moans and releases a rough breath as Karube manhandles him down onto the bed. His hands curl into the hem of Karube’s shirt, yanking it over his head. Karube wretches on either side of Niragi’s shirt until the buttons pop open. Immediately his mouth shifts down over the newly bared skin, lapping over the line of his sternum, biting into his pec. Niragi’s breathing is ragged, his hand curls into Karube’s hair.

Karube’s hands fumble with Niragi’s pants, frantic in his desperation to unclothe him. Niragi seems to notice his neediness and chuckles lowly, helping him finally rid him off his pants and boxers. Karube claws over his hips, scoring thin lines into the pale skin. A moan courses out passed Niragi’s lips.

He can barely be bothered to stretch Niragi out properly, but even as he lines his hard cock up, Niragi doesn’t attempt to slow or stop him. Niragi had always enjoyed a bit of pain. Karube knew that. He sinks into Niragi with one long stroke.

Watching his face, Karube stares as Niragi’s pierced tongue flicks out in a slow swipe across his lips. He wants to chase it with his own mouth. Gripping hard to his hips, he drops his head forward onto Niragi’s chest.

There’s a painful twang of realisation in his chest.

Koma could have kissed him now, without even hesitating.

Something that wasn’t allowed of Karube.

It’s a burning feeling. Angering. Head shifting, he sinks his teeth over Niragi’s collarbone, hard enough to bruise, hard enough that Niragi cries out deliciously and arches up into him. His fingers dig into Karube’s biceps and shoulders, grabbing at him.

Karube fucks into him roughly, his pace brutal. His hands dig into every part of Niragi’s flesh that he can reach, hard enough that he knows there’ll be bruises when he’s done. It’s exactly what he wants. He hopes Koma sees them. Hopes he’ll get it in his fucking head to back off.

When he finally cums, he grips Niragi to him. He pants hard against his throat. Niragi’s cock bobs, splattering cum over both their stomachs.

After a few beats, Niragi shoves at his shoulder, weakly complaining about Karube’s heavy weight on him. Karube shrugs him away.

He eyes the hickey Koma had left, red and bruised on Niragi’s skin. Irritation burns in his chest at just the sight of it. Leaning in, Karube locks his teeth over the mark, biting hard enough to leave his own mark right over the top of it. Niragi gasps, the noise strangled. 

Sitting up, Karube’s eyes drag over Niragi. There’s reddening marks of bruises dotted over his pale skin. Niragi shifts until Karube’s cock slips out of him, wincing slightly. He huffs a short laugh, shoving his dark hair out of his face. Karube’s still staring.

“What’s gotten into you tonight? Can’t of just been the fight earlier. Who pissed you off? I should thank them,” Niragi asks, slight amusement lilting his voice. Karube’s hand reaches numbly for his face, running his thumb across Niragi’s reddened bottom lip. He swallows thickly.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks quietly, his voice tight. Niragi quirks a brow at him.

“Seriousl-” 

“Please.”

Niragi exhales a long breath. It feels like the seconds drag on. Karube’s stomach twists, his heart pounding almost painfully against his ribs. It feels like it could leap up his throat and out his mouth.

“Okay.”

Karube lunges forwards to clash their mouths together. His fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. His tongue presses into Niragi’s mouth, finally tasting him. He could get drunk on the flavour. A moan escapes up his throat. Niragi’s tongue flicks to meet Karube’s, pressing against it.

When they part, there’s a silence. A line crossed.

Niragi swallows thickly, then pulls out of Karube’s grasp, standing up. His hand strains shakily up the side of his neck, over the darkening bite mark.

“I’m going to have a shower,” he says bluntly, disappearing into the bathroom, closing the door behind.

Karube sits numbly on the bed for a few minutes. He hears the shower switch on. Mechanically, he dresses and leaves the room, his mouth still tingling, Niragi’s taste still on his tongue. 

Niragi stands in the bathroom. His heart thumps.

What the fuck?

His hands tremble. He reaches into the shower, switching it on but stays standing in front of the mirror. He can still feel Karube’s lips against his own, feel his tongue prodding. They’d never done that before. They didn’t kiss. They just fucked. The closest they’d ever even come to kissing was Karube leaving an obnoxiously obvious hickey on his jaw when he’d been annoyed with Niragi one night.

Why had he asked tonight? What had been his deal?

He’d been brutal tonight, not that Niragi was complaining. The dull ache in his body is excellent. He’s sure he’ll still be feeling it come tomorrow. He’s always enjoyed that from Karube.

But they’d never kissed.

It had been electric, sparks zinging through his body with every move of Karube’s mouth against his. His fingers reach for his mouth, trailing his fingertips over his lips. He heaves out a shaking exhale.  He hears his bedroom door open and then swing closed. Karube’s left. Slumping forward, he holds himself up by planting his hands on the porcelain sink.

What the fuck?

Niragi doesn’t mean to ignore Karube for the next few days. He just doesn’t know how to look him in the eye. Every brief look at him brings the memory of the kiss back, the taste of his mouth, the look in his eyes when they’d parted. It always makes Niragi’s heart beat faster, makes him dig his fingernails into his palms so he can distract himself with the dull pain. 

That’s what he needs. A distraction.

He finds it in Koma.

Sweet Koma. Puppy dog Koma. Eager-to-please Koma.

It’s easy to drag him off to Niragi’s room. Easy to slip his tongue in Koma’s mouth and pull on his hair. Koma makes saccharine little noises under Niragi’s frantic, hurried assault. In his desperation, Niragi practically shreds his clothes off of him.

Koma’s more lithe than Karube. Niragi paws over the visible dips of his ribs, grabs at his waist to pull him in and kiss him roughly again. Koma’s hands curl into his dark hair, pulling on the strands, meeting Niragi’s kiss with the same bruising passion.

Niragi wrestles him onto the bed, shoving his own clothes off before climbing on top of him and straddling his waist. He spills maybe a splash too much lube over his hands in his quickness, but he doesn’t really care in the moment. Reaching around, he quickly works two fingers into his hole. Balancing as he fingers himself, his other hand reaches for Koma’s hardness. His cock isn’t much different than Karube’s, maybe a little thinner, and thatched with dark hair at the root.

Koma’s hands reach for Niragi’s hips, steadying him. He stares - stunned and breathless - at Niragi. His eyes practically twinkle. He’s cute, he makes a soft thready noise when Niragi’s hand wraps around his cock, slicking him with excess lube. Watching the way Niragi arches back to sink his fingers deeper into himself, Koma paws over his taut stomach.

Slipping his fingers out with a low moan, Niragi angles Koma’s cock towards his slick hole and sinks down on it. Koma’s head drops back, a moan forced out of his mouth. Niragi seats himself fully in his lap, head dropping forward to let out a long breath. He rolls his hips. Koma grabs at his hips, but more to just hold him, not to stop him or coax him.

So Niragi takes the lead. It’s been a while since he’s had to. Usually, it’s Karube setting the pace and Niragi doesn’t complain, just lets Karube take him how he wants. Now, he has to figure it out himself. Koma’s hips rock up, smoothly rolling to meet Niragi half way as he drops down.

Koma isn’t bad. He’s not. Simply, he’s different that Karube. Gentler where Niragi wanted teeth. Karube had a particular brand of roughness that hit Niragi exactly how he wanted. If he’d been with Karube now, Karube would’ve already taken over, grabbing Niragi’s hips, fucking roughly up into him or dragging Niragi harshly down, dominant even when he’s on the bottom.

Koma sounds different than Karube too. He mewls and pants and muffled sounds behind bitten lips. Niragi’s name spills out, whimpery. Karube is deep and heady. Koma is high and thready. The sounds are pretty, if Niragi’s honest, but not what he’s used to.

Niragi’s hand wraps around his own cock, jerking himself off as he rides. Koma’s hands slides over his hips and thighs, steadying him more than guiding him. His eyes drag over Niragi the entire time, he can’t look anywhere else. With a quiet keen and a jerky jump of his hips, Koma cums. Niragi feels it, spilling deep inside.

Seating himself fully, he quickly jerks himself off, moaning. It doesn’t take him long to find his own release, splattering cum up Koma’s front. His chest heaves, panting. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he watches Koma slide his fingers through the white mess over his torso, then stick them into his mouth. A moan muffles out past his digits.

Niragi’s hand snaps out to grab Koma’s wrist, wrenching his fingers out his mouth. Koma blinks confused at him. Quickly, Niragi swipes his fingers through the rest of the cum, gathering it up and then shoving it quickly into Koma’s mouth. Koma’s lips close around Niragi’s fingers, sucking them, the tip of his tongue pushing between the seam where Niragi’s fingers are pressed together.

Karube had done it to Niragi once, a mean comment spilling off his lips. Niragi had thought about it more than once to get himself off when Karube wasn’t around.

He wonders if he’d looked like Koma. That look in his eyes, the warmth inside his mouth. Koma moans softly, sucking his fingers. The entire image imprints in Niragi’s mind.

Slipping his fingers out, he rolls off Koma and drops onto the mattress, lying on his side. His gaze drags over the dips and curves of Koma’s profile. Koma’s chest rises and falls quickly as he tries to catch his breath. When he’s finally caught it, he rolls onto his side towards Niragi, his gaze dragging over him.

“Who did this?” Koma asks, his fingertips tracing a bruise gripped over Niragi’s hip. Niragi glances down. A pause before he answers. Was he really going to -

“Karube.”

Koma’s head perks up. A smirk curves to his bitten red mouth.

“So much for no boyfriend, huh?”

Niragi huffs a laugh.

“He’s not my boyfriend. It’s just sex.”

Koma prods at another bruise. Moving, he nudges Niragi onto his back and swings his leg over Niragi’s hip, straddling him. His hands travel, seeking out the marks. A group of small ones that had to be where Karube’s fingers had dug in, a bite mark, a line of hickeys.

“Is he usually so rough?”

Niragi shrugs. It wasn’t like he minded roughness. In fact, he often preferred it.

“He’s kinda possessive, huh?” Koma muses when Niragi doesn’t answer.

A slight frown creases Niragi’s expression. He’d never considered Karube possessive, but Koma has a point. Karube had never left this many marks. A slight glance over him and it becomes suddenly clear that they’d be easy to hide under clothing, but impossible to hide when he’s undressed. Thoughts start to swirl in his mind. He forces them down.

Hauling an arm around Koma’s thin waist, he wrestles him back onto the mattress, kissing him to silence both him and the thoughts. 

As far as Karube’s concerned, this is his own personal hell. 

Aguni’s paired him up with Koma of all people. There’s a dozen other militants Aguni could’ve placed him with for this game. He would’ve even worked with Last Boss over Koma. It’s a spades game, so at least it’s something Karube will likely be good at, but he has no interest in working with Koma at all.

He’s got car keys clenched in his fist, heading off towards the parking lot. Koma is following along beside him. They pass Niragi as they walk, and Koma bounds over to him.

“Niragi! Where’d you get sent?” Koma asks, cheery. Niragi smiles at him, but it falters slightly when he meets Karube’s watching gaze.

“Diamond game,” he answers. Koma’s mouth opens in an ‘ah’, nodding.

“Of course. I bet you’ll do great.”

“Koma. Let’s go,” Karube cuts in. Koma glances back at him.

“Oh, right. Well, good luck, Niragi.” He waves good bye to Niragi then turns to lope back over to Karube, who looks at Niragi for a beat longer before walking off towards his car.

Niragi watches as they both walk away. His heart thumps. He rubs a hand over his chest, mouth twisting as he goes to head towards his own car. 

The game starts shortly after Karube and Koma arrive at the site. It’s a fish market, the majority of the walls closed in with steel roller doors. The place stinks like rotting seafood and makes Karube’s nose curl, but he doesn’t have time to think about it.

The game is some kind of fucked up ‘capture the flag’. There’s two tokens that are the ticket to winning after the time runs out. Every player is wearing a mechanical bracelet, the ones worn by the people with the tokens light up once the game starts.

Both token holders immediately run once the timer goes off, only to be quickly chased. Karube instantly splits away from Koma. He doesn’t care to help the guy. It’s not a club game, he doesn’t need Koma to win. He can win this himself, all he has to do is get a token and keep it.

It’s not that easy though. Ten minutes pass and Karube hasn’t managed to even get close to either token. He’s breathing hard. For a moment, he pauses to think. He needs a plan. Just chasing isn’t getting him anywhere and, at this rate, he’s dead.

While hunkered over and catching his breath, a hand suddenly comes into view, holding a token. His head whips up and he frowns to see Koma standing there. Before he can say anything, Koma’s speaking.

“Take it.” He holds the token out to Karube, waggling it. When Karube doesn’t move, Koma sighs and grabs his hand, pressing the token into his palm. Karube stares at it. It’s insane to give up the chance of winning in a game like this, and Karube hasn’t exactly been kind of Koma even once.

“Why?” He asks. Koma grins with a tilt of his head.

“Because I’m going to get the other one.” The way he says it sends ice down Karube’s spine. His tone, it’s unnerving. Before Karube can say anything else, Koma is hurrying away. It’s only as he’s running off that Karube catches the glint of something silver gripped in his hand.  Karube’s stomach drops.

Where the fuck had he gotten that knife?

There’s blood on the edge of Koma’s sleeve when he returns. Karube had hidden away for the rest of the game, the token gripped tight in his clammy hand as he waited for the timer to hit zero. Koma’s whistling, twirling the knife with a kind of practiced ease. The timer ticks over, an automated robotic voice announces the end of the game.

Around them, red lasers shoot through the roof and bodies drop to the ground. Koma doesn’t even flinch. He looks back to Karube, then nods his head off towards a waiting table from which lights blink at them.

Karube puts a bit of distance between them as they walk to it. His shoulders are tense. The screen on the table blinks, an arrow pointing to a box, calling for the tokens to be slotted inside. Koma drops his through and the bracelet unlocks from his wrist. He rubs his non-knife-wielding hand over his wrist.

Karube slips his own token in and his bracelet drops off as well. With a celebratory jingle, a spades card pops out through the slot. Koma snatches it up with a smile.

“Let’s get going. Hey, do you think Niragi’s done with his game too?” Koma asks as he starts towards the unlocking exit door.

Karube doesn’t answer, just follows after him.

The drive back is quiet. Karube desperately wishes that the radio was working or that there’d been some cd jammed in the stereo. Anything would be better than the sound of his heart beating in his ears. Koma is humming peacefully in the passenger seat, slouched back. 

“I’ve never like guns,” Koma says, still turning the blade of the knife over in his hands, swiping his thumb over the edge, seemingly testing the sharpness. Karube eyes the glint of it in his periphery. “I’m guessing you don’t either. I haven’t seen you with one like the other militants.”

“I’m … better with my hands,” Karube answers tightly.

“I’m sure you are.” There’s a hint of cold amusement in his tone. “I saw the handiwork you left on Niragi.”

The temperature in the car suddenly feels like it drops. There’s a pit in Karube’s stomach. His hands tighten on the wheel. If it came to it, Karube doesn’t know if he’d come out on top of a fight here. He’s weaponless and Koma is seemingly ruthless. He doesn’t know what to expect.

“You really like him, huh?” Koma queries. Karube says nothing, teeth clenched. “Are you jealous?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Koma grin widely, all pearly white teeth. Karube breathes roughly through his nose.

“You are, aren’t you?”

Slamming his foot on the break, the car skids to a stop, enough to jostle both of them. Karube recovers first, fisting the front of Koma’s shirt and wrenching him in close over the center console, nose-to-nose. Fuming, his body bristles. He catches the glint of the knife blade pointed at him, Koma’s hand tight around the hilt. Koma’s eyes are dark. He’s still smiling, unfazed. He looks giddy. He leans in and bumps the tip of his nose against Karube’s.

With a frustrated huff, Karube shoves him away, hard enough that he bounces off the passenger side door. He just chuckles, readjusts to slouch back into his seat. Karube turns back to the steering wheel, stepping back on the accelerator.

Koma, luckily seeming to have some form of self-preservation, stays quiet for the rest of the drive. 

Shortly after Karube pulls into his parking spot, Niragi is pulling into one a few spots down. Koma hops out quickly to go meet him. Karube’s slower, just watching after him. Niragi looks a little worse for wear, a bit tired. Karube can see the card in his hand as he gets out of the car. Five of diamonds, not an easy feat.

“So you guys survived, huh?” Niragi says with a yawn. Koma spins the card in his hand, flipping between his fingers. The knife’s been tucked into his tight waistband, flush against his hipbone.

“Karube and I make a good team,” he says.

There’s a glint in his eye when he glances back at Karube, something only he can read for the taunt that it is. When he turns back to Niragi, he’s smiling casually. Karube steps in between them. He takes the card out of Niragi’s hand and shoves it in Koma’s, then he wraps his hand around Niragi’s own.

“You look tired, Niragi. Koma can take the cards to Hatter,” he cuts in, his gaze is on Koma though, “You don’t mind, right, Koma?”

Koma’s hand tightens on the cards, thumb pressing on the face side and bending them in a curve, but his smile only slightly twitches under Karube’s gaze.

“Of course not.”

“Good,” Karube says curtly, still holding Niragi’s hand as he hauls him away towards the Beach’s doors and away from Koma.

As soon as they’re turned away, Koma’s smile slips. Impressed and irritated. He doubts he’ll be able to get Niragi alone tonight, not with Karube’s possessiveness popping out.

“He’s fucking nuts, Niragi,” Karube snaps as he drags Niragi along, “I don’t know how you can stand him. Did you know he’s got a fucking knife?” 

Niragi just quirks a brow at him, huffs a quiet laugh. Whatever Koma had done, Niragi sure he’s probably done worse in this world. These games, they fucked people up. It’s not something he can hold against Koma.

“Am I supposed to be surprised he has a knife? You know your the only one of us who doesn’t use a weapon, right?” Niragi asks. Karube almost wants to argue, to bite back. He already knows he’s not like the rest of the militants, he doesn’t care to be anyway. Instead, what comes out of his mouth is -

“Did you fuck him?”

Niragi jolts, quickly looking around for anyone who might’ve heard the question before shoving Karube into his room. Karube stumbles slightly, but catches himself and hauls up close against Niragi, crowding him against the door, grabbing the front of his shirt. He reaches his hand out to lock it, then plants his hand flat on the door.

“Did you fuck him?” He asks again, each word pointed.

“So what if I did?” Karube’s teeth grit. Niragi doesn’t shrink. “We didn’t agree to not fuck anyone else.” 

“Fuck, Niragi, please - just - ” Frustration laces Karube’s tone. He doesn’t know what to say, or what he wants to say. It sticks in his throat and he can’t force it out passed his teeth. His hand closes into a fist, and he presses it roughly against the door. His eyes squeeze shut. Niragi stares at him, brows creasing.

“What?”

Karube grinds his knuckles against the door. It stings. He swallows thickly, then exhales slowly, his dark eyes opening to meet Niragi’s gaze. Leaning in, he nudges closer to Niragi’s face, his nose bumping against his cheek.

“Just … stop,” he whispers barely audible against Niragi’s lips, closing the hair’s breadth gap and kissing him.

There’s the briefest pause before he responds, gripping Karube’s shirt and pulling him in closer. The kiss is searing, tongues lapping like flames. Niragi bites his lip. Karube moans quietly, hands curling up into Niragi’s hair.

They don’t talk about it again that night. Not that it really matters since Karube can’t force the words he means out. He still doesn’t even understand the way he feels or what he really wants. He just knows he doesn’t want Niragi fucking Koma again.

Niragi lets Karube stay the night for once. He presses his face into the back of Niragi’s neck, tucked up against him. It’s strange … and oddly settling. Niragi hasn’t ever shared a bed like this with someone. Karube is warm and he breathes steadily through the night, and Niragi sleeps more peacefully that night than he has in weeks.

Niragi’s an early bird, which means Karube is forced to join him in walking down to the meeting earlier than needed. If anybody glances their way, Niragi glowers, almost asking for someone to talk shit so he has a reason to start swinging. His rifle leans against his shoulder, Karube walks on his other side, matching strides. 

In the morning sun, at Niragi’s usual column, Koma is waiting.

He’s swinging back and forth on his feet, then perks up when he spies the two of them. Karube makes a point of brushing the backs of his fingers against Niragi’s wrist, knowing Koma’s watching. Walking shoulder to shoulder with Niragi, Karube expects to see Koma deflates. He’s almost disappointed when it doesn’t happen.

“Good morning,” Koma greets casually. Karube doesn’t reply. Niragi smiles, steps up to stands in between them. Koma leans, looking around Niragi to meet Karube’s gaze. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, actually,” Karube replies, staring back at him. Koma hums quietly, eyes crinkling as he forces a smile. Niragi rolls his eyes, but it goes unnoticed by either of them.

“Niragi.” The three glance up at the voice. Aguni stands, waiting. He nods his head for Niragi to come over. Without hesitation, Niragi walks over to him, leaving Koma and Karube to themselves. He’s hoping it’s not a bad decision, that he won’t come back to a fight he has to break up. He’s not sure who would come out on top: Karube’s brute force or Koma’s quick cleverness.

Alone together, Koma steps closer to Karube’s side, his hands shoving into his pockets. He rolls on his feet, from heels to toes. His shoulder bumps Karube’s bicep as he rocks.

“So. Think you’ve won, huh?” Koma says, quiet, just loud enough for Karube to hear. His tone is amused. Karube smirks lightly, shrugs.

“Certainly doesn’t feel like I’ve lost.”

There’s a twitch in Koma’s smile. His eyes narrow minutely.

“There’s still a lot of games left to play.”

For such a simple statement, it sounds like a threat.

Niragi’s only half listening to Aguni. He glances back towards the pair, both of them smile at him but he doesn’t trust it. There’s something in their eyes, like if Niragi wasn’t watching they’d be at each other’s throats.

It’s a weird feeling. Something twists and flip flops in Niragi’s gut. His gaze flickers between Karube and Koma. He’s never had two people wanting him like this, enough to be fighting over him.

And he can’t decide which one he wants more… 

[petrichoraline]

✨MSP Episode 11 Thoughts✨

wheree do i even start

how about ALL OF YOU LIED TO ME?? i feel scammed!! i was led to believe through every single thing i encountered that tinn and gun would have a fallout of some sort OR their relationship would suffer somehow. apparently i experienced goncharov levels of conspiracy, all of bl tumblr teamed up to stress me out because what actually awaited me was tinngun being sweet supportive boyfriends for over an hour!

speaking of which, from all the people dropping hints and nudging me to watch it, precisely zero told me it was the length of a kdrama episode! i was predicting like a 50min long script, how was i supposed to know gmm had decided to cosplay as tvn for a day?

episode 11 being longer and still not containing the iconic couple conflict but leaving it for the very last episode is just another way to break the norm, it's what bad buddy did, it's just not how bad buddy did it. and i want to take a moment to appreciate that the series decided it is more important to properly end the hot wave arc and show tinn's mom figuring out this whole thing mostly by herself and with the help of her husband rather than lashing out at her son. there was enough time spent on these things so the events of episode 12 don't feel rushed and the characters' actions don't seem unmotivated.

what was going on with tiwpor though?? i knew these two would be as rushed as a sequel to a hit hollywood movie but goodness..yet somehow..it works? tiwpor having bbq. then tiwpor having dinner. two meals and those kids are practically planning how to move in with each other as soon as possible.

the man the myth the legend tiwson wasn't even with the gang for most of the episode (my theory is that had he been there for the big fight, there would be no other way for his character to react other than getting down on all fours by por's side and growling at everyone..so they had to cut him out entirely)

experiencing soundgun confirming their devotion and then attacking each other like wild hyenas thirty minutes later was one of the highlights but something i enjoyed even more was pat giving off "had a crush on my bestie but gave up on it cause we're too alike" vibes, i did not expect to get so much personality from either tiw or por but pat had my head spinning

tiwson in the first five minutes like "yall bout to break up? sucks mate. well, we had a good run!" ..i cannot believe i thought this man was about to break down and tell tinn about all that he's been enduring for him. man's only as invested as the task at hand gives promise of a bl drama plot unveiling before him. (also, how did he see his relationship with por developing in that scenario? "tinn and gun can do whatever, i'm going to bite that cute bbq chef and the holy chinzhilla can watch from the corner for all i care")

realising tinn could've not become a school president to help them win but then realising he had to do it for the guys anyways because they would have had to give up long before hot wave

this is on top of my head pretty much, i've got opinions on every second of this whole thing though

[plushtism]

PINNED POST YAAY

Howdy and welcome to my plushie catalog dear friends! I have autism, I am Objectum and POSIC+, and I've been gathering numerous plushes for my entire life and I love them all so dearly and they make me super happy and I wish to share them with you all :]

I'll post each plush individually with a little bio about them and what they're like and where they came from, etc. All tagged accordingly into little categories with what they are, any plushes of fictional characters however are lumped into their own single categories (since don't have enough of each series or media to justify making special tags for every single one)

Unfortunately due to either the long length of time I've had them or being really brand new some of them don't have names though, so I am open to naming suggestions on any that don't! (Please keep it appropriate though, they have feelings too man)

Aside from that I'll also post the occasional silly photos since I take a lot of them ehehe ^^ I'll have a seperate tag for that too but %]

This page is intended to be a lighter hearted and fun lil place, and I don't want to drag any sorta drama or turmoil here, however I feel I should make it known some of my plush friends may not have the happiest stories behind them because I have had a very rough and upsetting life, I will make sure to warn ahead of time for these topics though but I just want people to be aware that it'll come up since thats unfortunately unavoidable.

This blog is also run by a plural system, this wont affect much besides being possibly mentioned in plushie bios sometimes, and when answering asks and such we'll tag our names, you're mostly gonna see me here (Sludge) but the others might pop in sometimes %D

(this blog is welcome to systems of all origin btw)

More info abt tags and such under the cut for space:

More info tba but YAHH tags!

🐾 >Animals - Probably the broadest tag here, this is just for plushes who are regular ol' animals and don't have any other tag to fall under

🎮 >Games - Plushies that are characters or critters from a video game of any sort

📺 >TV - Plushes that are characters or critters from a show I like (note: both TV shows or indie web-series count under this one!)

🎨 >Misc Media - Plushes that for one reason or another don't exactly fit under just the Games or TV tags, either due to the source material being varied in medium or due to being from somewhere else entirely

⚠️ >Woah Buddy - Catch-all sub-category for plushes from a pre-existing media that has a troubling source material that requires seperate warnings of its own

💔 >Hugs and Bruises - Catch-all tag for plushes with any sort of traumatic life story attatched to them, from anywhere in between my childhood or adulthood

✨️ >Pokemon - I'm breaking my no fandom tags rule because I feel like I have enough plush pokemon to warrent it, bite me

🌈 >Beanies - I FUCKING LOVE BEANIE BABIES especially the older ones........ but I have a soft spot for the newer ones too sometimes sorry

🍞 >Squishes - Umbrella tag for my Squishmallows and Squishables, for the record and to be absolutely clear I DO NOT endorse the company behind Squishmallows though, they can suck it

🎁 >Express Delivery - Umbrella tag for my heap of Makeship plushes

🪆 >Puppet Show - I LOVE PUPPETS SO MUCH MAN i don't have many but I love them so much they deserve a tag for being such special lil guys

🎙 >Songs and Circuits - Umbrella tag for plushes with any sort of extra inner workings under all that fluff! Usually voice boxes and the like

📬 >Friend to Friend - Plushes who were gifts from friends of mine :]

💬 >Lasting Memory - Plushes that were either gifts from people I no longer associate with, were gifts from people who have passed on, or are otherwise are heavily associated with a loss I have experienced (be it an ex friend, or a death of a pet, or anything else)

🎊 >Beloved - All of my plushies are beloved by me in some way of course, but this ones for the plushes who are just that extra bit of special to me for one reason or another

🪄 >Love in the Stitches - Plushes that were handmade in one way or another, either by yours truly or by someone else

🌻 >Booboos - Plushes that have some sort of physical damage or have needed repair in the past and still have the scars to show for it

⚛️ >Plush Proxy - Because our system is very introject and fictive-heavy, we have this thing in our system we like to call "Plush Proxying" where whoever is currently in front takes our usual routine of carrying a plush around everywhere, and instead its a plush of themselves! Not every one of us has a plush proxy of course, but its something important enough to us that I think the plushes earned their own tag for it

🪢 >Unusuals - Plushes that are just downright strange little guys, wether it be the plush itself that's just weird, me not even remembering where they came from, only barely fitting the plush category, or just whatever I deem fit and odd enough to put in here

Any tags for other stuff would just be ">Plush [x]" (like plush pics, plush talks, etc) ya! X]

[distant-screaming]

If you watched sotus after bad buddy then yeah, it makes perfect sense you hated it. Personally, I give myself the heebie jeebies whenever I remember I actually enjoyed sotus and 2moons back in the day (oh, the terror 🙀)

Since we're on the subject of Thai bl shows (the good, the bad, the ehhh let's forget it ever happened) :

🪤 What usually draws you in the most successfully? Do you decide to watch a show because of visuals/cinematography, plot, acting, or something else entirely?

🪃 Are you the type to drop a series when it gets too cringe or boring, or do you suffer through it till the end?

🛸 Is there any scene from any show that you'd like to wipe from your memory because of second-hand embarrassment?

SAdipjse that's understandable, anon. Actually, fun fact - I'm currently watching 2moons! I need a trashy (is that too mean??) show to watch rn because I have a ton of work to do, so it's working perfectly as background noise. Currently on episode 2, so far nothing's happened so. I guess we'll see!

(cut for length :D)

🪤 - the first thing that draws me in is plot, for sure! If the plot is good, there's a high chance I'll want to watch it at some point. Also, character writing! This one isn't something instantly identifiable but before watching a show I'll typically do a quick search for a general public consensus, and if the characters are poorly written it's an instant no go. I can't play with them like dolls if they're not well written! Other than that, acting is a pretty low factor for me in deciding what to watch because I'm like, really bad at picking out what's 'good' acting and 'bad' acting?? I dunno, I never really find any acting bad per se. Visuals are also pretty low priority because again, I tend to think any and all visuals are really well done adoipfjesadf. I'm not a very refined palette person, you can tell.

I guess the tl;dr is the plot of any media is the most important thing in my opinion, closely followed by characters!

🪃 - most of the time I watch to the end but I'll skip most of the scenes, so I get a feeling of completion and the general gist of the plot but also. I don't have to watch the actual show. That's actually what I ended up doing with SOTUS and I fear I will do with 2moons soeijwespdgj

🛸 - OH MAN SO MANY. I've mentioned before I'm SUPER prone to second hand embarrassment so pretty much any mildly embarrassing moment I'll skip over (re The Eclipse, I still can't watch the scene in the locker room right before the accidental kiss - it's just. sdipfjsd.). If I had to pick one scene to completely wipe from my memory, though, I think currently that honor would go to Bad Buddy - specifically the main thread of episode 2 with the mistaken identity thing on the rooftop. I actually have not watched that whole scene because I literally cannot, but what little I did watch while skipping was...I'm sure it was cute and plot-important, just me personally I could not watch it.

Apologies if this is incoherent, all my brain juice is being used up for studying today aepitfjes. But thank you for the questions anon, I feel refreshed <3333

[heart-forge]

If this feels too cans of wormsy please feel free to ignore, especially since you’ve talked about this before, but do you feel like your RPG critique applies to Cyberpunk 2077? In my mind that’s the game that failed pretty hard at being an RPG, not just from how it was marketed or its initial launch state, but also from a gameplay and narrative perspective.

I feel like if you put a top ten list of RPG critiques on a big wheel and then for flavour you added common film critiques and like a grocery list, no matter what you hit it would apply to some way to Cyberpunk. I cannot emphasize enough how wholly CB2077 failed. I have written fanfiction, I have thought about it at length, I'm deeply obsessed with the character arc of Johnny Silverhand, and I'm infuriated at the historical revisionism of something that happened in goddamn 2020. It failed. It is not a good game, it is not a complete game, and while you're playing it you know that it is not a complete game. If you happen to have worked in some level of gaming, you can observe the places in which it is incomplete. I can vividly taste the parts of Cyberpunk where something was cut or a concept was oversimplified to integrate it at all. I can see features that were haphazardly integrated and never removed. They never fixed the driving.

I'm gunna throw this under a read more. I don't think those are necessary anymore but I talk a lot.

They fail in very predictable ways. As I said, their biggest prior hit was with the Witcher, where they had Geralt and they had predetermined major milestone events. From there, they could get creative: they could add silly quests, they could add story moments, they could improvise dialogue, but all with a preexisting stone framework.

Playing an improv game within your favourite setting, writing functional playable fanfiction, is different than working from within a TTRPG system. Improvisation where anything could happen is hard, and with TTRPG systems that's the point. When you're playing a game with your friends, you need the structure to allow your buddies to be silly or serious, to engage with a well thought plot and to take that plot off the rails in a way that's still fun and enriching. The concept was just too foreign and their scope too enormous, especially for a first attempt (comparable to Bioware's Anthem, where I said very confidently at launch...why is Bioware doing this? I played DAI multiplayer, and it wasn't transcending the genre for me).

V isn't a player character. V is not the main character. The story could care less what happens to V: the V might as well stand for Victoria, from Cats (2019). No one cares what happens to V. V's connections are all superficial, even their dead best friend's mother might as well stop existing after he's been laid to rest. People think V is a cool tough guy badass, but because they pretty much have to: if they know V, then V has to be good at something or have some serious connection to someone that isn't "I heard you're the guy to call if we want the world state progressed". V is your cardboard cut out in every scene to experience the life and times of the actual protagonist, Johnny Silverhand.

See, Johnny has a reason to be pushing to the end against all odds (you're told very, very early in the game that V is going to die no matter what you do: one ignores it, because one assumes that there must be some reward to putting up with all this nonsensical bullshit, but no). Johnny has a reason to burn out and a driving force behind him. Johnny is the one with ties to the city, real ties: people that love him, people that hate him, people who just don't want to see him burn out or blow up. Johnny has grudges, Johnny has a history. Johnny is the one that ends the game becoming a better person. Johnny is the one who has something to lose, and something to learn.

V is just the audience proxy. V cannot be truly loved by anyone, because nobody knows V, least of all the game. River's entire romance happens before you tell him that you have a dead rock star in your brain that's killing you. Judy and Panam I have repeatedly described as the only romances, as they're the only ones that show up in the main plot literally at all which is a big glaring testament to who this game is for (and hint, it's not wlw despite Judy). Kerry might not even know that you're dying. Johnny isn't romanceable despite being the only person in the world who offers you any sympathy and encourages you to live against overwhelming odds. Keanu Reeves whispering "tell him it was your guardian angel" when your good buddy and doctor who repeatedly tries to goad you into suicide for some reason asks you how you even made it to the clinic in the first place, as sick as you are (the answer is that Keanu Reeves piloted the EVA) lives rent free in my brain.

V doesn't have opinions. Johnny as a million opinions, which range from Twitter levels of simplistic violence that assumes that the world hasn't been fixed because everyone on earth is too stupid to see there's a problem, and like, basic empathy for other people, but V almost antagonistically disagrees with him on literally every point he tries to make, sometimes playing devil's advocate like a total asshole just for the pleasure of fighting with Johnny. It makes their relationship early on annoying, because I don't always disagree when V disagrees. V isn't disagreeing because they hold morals to the contrary, they just agree with the popular narrative about Johnny Silverhand because agreeing with the news is the safest option and doesn't suggest that V is a right-wing loom nor a frothing anarchist.

Johnny is also constantly being, loosely speaking, racially insensitive. It's edgy garbage put in by the game developer and doesn't serve Johnny's character, especially as it's never acknowledged that Johnny himself, through virtue of being played by Keanu Reeves, is asian. I'm not asian so I can't speak to it, but he calls the Japanese Hanako Arasaka a lot of shit that I'm sure somebody would beat his ass for even if it isn't an outright slur. It's the same with the Nomads, who are a group of indigenous stand ins that specifically include white people in prominent roles so that the game developer feels safe from criticism about the way that they treat the stand in for indigenous populations in their game which is an issue spanning many, many game developers who want a cool nomadic population that faces the same prejudice that real nomadic peoples face with at least similar slurs but also don't want to be held responsible for making them zone enemies, mindlessly evil, and insulting barbaric. Anyway, the point of this section is that even though Johnny is one of the more principled characters in game, it's pushed to the point of absurdity: Johnny has to be a blue haired social justice warrior (but also a borderline racist insensitive conservative type, as to never express a political opinion in the political opinion TTRPG system) so that V's centrism never seems glaringly malicious.

I'm editing this section for detail. I got off the rails here, I'm talking about the narrative push and pull between Johnny and V. Johnny is the protag, you're V and you just ferry Johnny to and fro between events. You have no real life, no real friends, no real ties to the city. You want to be famous but it's never really explained why besides like, California malaise I guess. You have barely any options for origin: if you're a street kid, it tells you what street you lived on and eliminates the possibility of any wiggle room between there because other people will recognise you as a resident of the city (destroying one of my favourite V concept, an outcast Pacifican V who goes to work for a corp and returns in disgrace). A street kid V will also be told where they've been and why everybody is reintroducing themselves (you were in Atlanta for two years). A corpo V works the same position in the same company, and their motives are never discussed. The morality of it is barely addressed and they behave exactly the same as a street kid V. Nomad V operates exactly the same as a V who's always lived in the city with no real ties to their old clan and no real questions about city living.

V is a born killer, a mercenary and edgerunner who's good with a gun no matter what weapon you actually choose to use. V can run off to live with the nomads again (prompting kerry and river to leave you), stay in the city and become an asshole (Panam and Judy will leave but you still destroy your relationship with Kerry or River). V can die and let Johnny take over (in which case Johnny steals your life and runs but is a better person this time because he was nice to an abused kid which we literally have no reason to believe he wouldn't be anyway), or V can just die (in which case your friends all hate you for dying).

Also there's a thin veneer of transness over the character creator, but it's so bad. it's so transphobic that it wraps back around and suddenly it's just misogyny again. your voice pitch controls your gender, your voice gender is repeated over and over and over and over and over again, girl V small boy V big.

THEY NAME V. BASED ON YOUR GENDER. YOU GET A CANON NAME FOR YOUR OC FOR NO REASON AT ALL.

I have a lot more complaints about CB2077 not being good. It's a game of interesting concepts dotting a corporate frankenstein with Keanu Reeves' face on it, but it's now 1:30am and I've lost steam. This has been highly paired down because I got heated and lost the point, but yes, cb2077 failed because it didn't want to be an RPG, it didn't want to be a shooter, it didn't want to play strategy or politics...all it wanted was for a firmer structure, a clearer guiding hand, a more controlled scope, and a pre-built protagonist.

[littlefreya]

Vanilla Milkshake

Summer: Henry and a long time friend hangout at their usual spot when things turn chaotic because of an innocent misunderstanding...

Prompted by:  

 Oooh Freyaaaa I just *need* some scene featuring Henry and ofc drinking milkshake. 

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Unamed OFC (no description of ethnicity or body type).

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: RPF, major fluff, friends to lovers, sexual innuendo, mild seduction, sex talk, an unwanted boner, Henry being a boomer, Henry having a meltdown. 

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own.*

A/N: So, first thing first, thanks @agniavateira for quickly beta’ing my work! And of course thanks @the-soot-sprite for bouncing ideas with me and being an emotional support. Decided to go with friends for lovers because I live for that stuff. Also, I am aware that “Milkshake” can be interpreted in several ways but for the sake of the story I went with that particular reference. Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed.  🖤

Title: Vanilla Milkshake

“I swear, this diner looks like Barbie had an orgasm all over the place.” A whimsical grin sliced between Henry’s marble cheeks. Eyeing the pastel-esque surroundings, he huffed scornfully and adjusted the cap over his nest of unruly curls. 

“Remind me again why we always meet here, young lady?”

Staring at the beastly man who barely managed to squeeze into the plastic-pink faux leather booth, she couldn’t help but chuckle. Henry carried himself with something that was both eloquent yet unmistakably feral, reminding her of a burly forest creature. Sturdy tree trunks stood for limbs, torso, and shoulders—the widths of icy mountains and a blanket of thick fur coated the entirety of his body, deeming him a dangerous bear. 

No wonder he preferred himself clean-shaven. The sharpened edge of a razor kept him a cut away from becoming ‘Henry the Barbarian’. 

Seeing him surrounded by pastel and sparkly fairy dust brought far more joy than she could ever imagine. The utter look of contempt gleamed on the surface of his shifty eyes. 

Oh, by God, how much he hated glitter!

“And what would you know about Barbie’s orgasms?” she teased with a crooked eyebrow and a comical suspicious glare. 

Readjusting his cap over the messy mane of chocolate curls, Henry offered a terrible wink and shrugged, “a gentleman never tells.”

Her fingers rapped on her thigh while she contemplated whether to allow this naughty joke slide, but then the urge to provoke him was far too great. After briefly chewing on the inside of her cheek, she broke into a wicked grin.

“Is that… like a role play you have with the missus? She’s Barbie, and you’re G.I.Joe? Because I kinda don’t want to hear about it, but then I kinda do.”

Henry’s smile gradually faded along with the playful glee in his eyes, his melancholic gaze dropping to the sparkly table. He slumped into a heavy sigh, “If by missus, you mean ‘Miss Hand’, then no… not really.”

Dumbfounded, she frowned at Henry with confusion when then it struck her; a sense of incredible embarrassment drained the blood from her head to her gut.

“Oh…”

“Yep.” Henry blurted and grabbed the menu, pretending to be incredibly interested in the kids’ meal options. 

Just in time to rescue them from a prolonged awkward silence, the waitress arrived with their order, serving Henry a hot cup of double espresso while she received a tall glass of a luscious vanilla milkshake. 

“Enjoy your drinks, guys!” the waitress smiled sweetly and kept her eyes glued to Henry as she walked away. But the gloss of the waitress’ flirtatious excitement was lost on him; drenched with greed, Henry’s blue sapphires were fixated on the generous scoops of ice cream and the dark chocolate swirls that decorated his companion’s dessert. 

“Henry, my eyes are up here!” she provoked and grabbed the straw between two fingers while throwing an amused glance at his simple cup of coffee. Henry followed her gaze and scoffed before raising the cup to his mouth and blowing to cool his drink.

The way his lips pursed together and his finger stroked the ceramic surface did not escape her observation. A sudden tingle swam down the length of her spine once it resonated in her mind that kind, charming, and beastly Henry was now single. Here they were, long time buddies, but now sitting together felt less comfortable than before. Her limbs felt like pins and needles while staring directly at his eyes was as risky as staring at the sun.  

“Cheers,” Henry mumbled and took a sip from his cup. 

Almost jolting in her seat, she stiffened and then grabbed her straw.

“Cheers.”

Giggles came from the other side of the diner. Among the retro gumball machines and rounded plastic bar stools, the waitress and a colleague leaned against the counter and stared at Henry, who turned his head for a brief moment and tipped his head.

Their giggles turned even louder.

She frowned. 

“So, have you been single for a while?” she heard herself asking with a rather urgent tone. Right away, a look of contrition crept on her face as she regretted her verbal onslaught and lack of sensitivity. 

Henry directed his gaze back to her and watched as she slowly sipped from the milkshake and then suckled the cream off her mouth. 

Absentmindedly, he licked his lips. “Since May. How about you, weren’t you with…?”

“No, ended, dodged a bullet.” she spat and pumped the straw up and down the thick beverage. “My milkshake brings all the boys… except it doesn't.” she sighed.

Henry frowned and shook his head with confusion. “What? You never told me you make your own milkshake. How come I never had some?” 

Her face abruptly froze, her eyes rounded with surprise before she snorted so loudly the waitresses stopped their whispering.

“Umm… Hen?” she called out, trying to hold herself from bursting into chuckles as her friend accidentally asked for a very sexual favour, “you honestly don’t know what ‘milkshake’ is slang for...?”

“Uh…”

“Omg, you’re such a boomer.” 

“No, I was born in ‘83! I’m a millennial. But please, indulge me.” he begged and crossed his arms together.

Clearing her throat loudly, she did her best to fight the wicked grin that stretched on her already painful cheeks and wrapped her fist around the straw. “So you know... how… certain male bodily fluids are sometimes white and creamy...? And when you perform a certain motion it’s like you’re shaking it…?”

Henry blinked and became silent. An unbidden rush of blood pooled at his groin as he watched her thumb graze over the tip of the straw and her fist pumping it into the smooth liquid in a slow, gentle motion. Wickedness glazed her eyes, but he tried to dismiss it as nothing but their usual playful banter; yet his adam’s apple bobbed up and down while his shoulder tensed at the oddly arousing sight of her performing a sinful act on a milkshake. 

There was an unmistakable stir in his cock and for once, he was thankful for narrow spaces as it hid his predicament.

Leaning forward, she opened her mouth and swirled her tongue around the straw. She went deliberately slow, making him watch while she playfully licked and suckled the tip until finally wrapping her lips around it and taking a generous sip.

Henry gawked utterly smitten, unaware that his jaw was nearly at the floor.

And to make things worse, she moaned—not too loud—but definitely enough to make his shaft harden more.

She wasn’t sure what stirred this whimsical boost of confidence, only that seeing the large, handsome man pale at her provocations made her feel like the most powerful woman on earth. She also gathered she’d regret it forever and a day once they’ll part ways, but it was too late for that now.

Gingerly she pulled back, though not before allowing a single drop of cream to trickle down the corner of her lips.

“Oops,” she smirked casually, wiping the cream with her fingertip and sucking it clean. 

“Please stop…” 

It was then when she noticed that Henry’s playful mien was all but gone. Far from amused, he glowered with a clenched jaw. “If you’re going to keep doing that, I’ll have to leave,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

A rush of panic made her freeze in her spot, the same needles that pricked her skin were now setting jolts of electric bursts. “I’m so sorry, I crossed the line,” she said and covered her mouth with shame, “did I offend you? Do you want me to leave?”

“What? No, no, not at all.” Henry’s voice softened right away, and he reached a hand in the air, as if trying to stop her from leaving. The last thing he wanted now is for her to think he is angry with her. If anything, he wished they could spend more time together, not because of his obvious arousal, but because for the first time in a long while, he was having fun.

Still, she looked at him so utterly distraught.  

“Then…?” 

Henry scanned the diner as if trying to make sure no one was staring or taking any photo and then shifted in his seat uncomfortably. His eyes altered between his spread thighs and her several times, trying to signal toward his… trouble.

“Oh...” she gaped. 

An odd sense of pride began to permeate her chest, battling over the burning embarrassment that flamed up her neck and cheeks. At this point, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to feel, only that it was definitely the most awkward hangout they had to date. 

Problem was, she never knew when to shut up. 

“Is little Henry hungry?”

Hearing those words, his brows dropped to an irritated sulk. “There is nothing little about it.”

“Ha! Prove it!”

It was as if the entire diner and perhaps the world fell into silence. Had the clatter of the dishes being washed in the back kitchen not rung their ears, she would have thought she grew suddenly deaf. 

“I didn’t mean it… sorry, I’ll stop,” she mumbled slowly and pressed her fingers to her mouth while shaking her head at her stupid behaviour. That was it, this was to be the last afternoon she would ever hang out with Henry and right now, she couldn’t even bring herself to look at him.

Henry chewed onto the inside of his cheeks, trying to stop the words that came faster than his thoughts.

“You didn’t?... Because I’ll definitely be up for proving...”

She blinked at his words and tilted her head, hoping that he won’t notice the wild tremors that shook her limbs, “What was that?” 

“I... yes? No?...I… fuck!” 

Henry lowered his head and slapped his palms across his face, rubbing back and forth with an utter meltdown while mumbling, “Forgive me,” a couple of times. He couldn’t care less of what the waitresses or whoever was watching would think of him; all he cared about was to make her feel comfortable around him again and maybe… even make her like him?

“Henry?”

Soft and warm her voice called to him, slowly pulling him from his anguish like a sailor being rescued from a sunken ship. His blue sapphires shone, an ocean of confusion and anxiety still pooling within while he peered back at her face that was now smiling at him a mixture of comfort and exhilaration. 

“Would you like some of my milkshake?”

[s-brant]

The Endless Summer (2/?)

(gif: @beccs) (PART ONE) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: A day out on the water goes awry and puts JJ, John B, and Y/N in danger. With tensions rising and the stakes higher than ever, JJ finds it difficult to control his feelings.

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, graphic violence, and JJ being an emotionally confused asshat.

A/N: Welcome back! Thanks for the love on this series, I’m so glad you guys like it and I hope this part is just as good. Things get a little heated in this chapter, so buckle up. Let me know if you enjoyed this. Have fun!

JJ isn't sure why she did it.

He wasn't sure then and he isn't sure now, but he knows one thing for certain: there isn't any going back to how things once were now that the barrier between them came crashing down.

Sweat drips off of his skin from the relentless heat of the Caribbean that has made their recent lives hell with the painful tinge of sunburn atop their tans and heat exhaustion they must be careful to avoid at all costs. They were educated on both topics by Pope, their godsend of a survival encyclopedia in human form, who advised them to spend most of their day outside of necessary tasks like fishing and constructing stable shelter under the shady cover of the treetops.

The sole reason he and John B aren't hiding in the safety of the shade is that it's their day to fish, but he's not thinking about the sun. In fact, neither of them is. They're both wondering where their third fishing buddy is.

It took roughly ten minutes of spearfishing with him in comfortable silence for JJ to finally break and spill his guts about what happened last night. Though there was an unspoken agreement to never tell anyone that their hatred has turned into desire, he couldn't help it. He was going mad trying to unravel it in his head.

After all, he already had a conversation with JB about the recent shift in their behavior with each other by the ocean last night, so it seems fitting to pick up where they left off with the calm and clear blue water in front of them again.

He walks on the jagged outcropping of rock that serves as their perch to observe the fish without disturbing the pattern of the current they swim through with John B closely behind.

"One second she's pissed at me, the next she's all over me. It makes no sense. Then, she didn’t say anything to me after it happened," JJ says with his face hardened into a look of concentration at the fish he squints against the sun to aim at, "Not even "Fuck you, Maybank" or one of her weirdly creative threats. She just sat there all night and talked to everyone but me."

His gaze slips away from the water as his chosen fish disappears from sight before he can bother to throw the spear, eyeing up his friend's reaction to the news.

John B doesn't seem that surprised by it, because who else, aside from everyone else in Kildare who knows of their "hatred" for one another, could've seen it coming as much as he did? He considers it for a second, then props his arm up on the handle side of the spear he digs into the rock to lean against.

"I'm pretty sure that means she likes you."

JJ retorts, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say."

Why would anyone ignore a person they like? It makes no sense to him. Every time he wanted a person, he'd simply walk over and make it happen. It's never been difficult for him to pursue the people he finds himself attracted to...Well, except for her. For a guy that also ignored her for the rest of the night and pretended their moment in the woods didn't happen, he has some balls of steel to be chastising her for the same things he did.

John B shrugs and says, "I'm being serious, dude. Sarah wouldn't even acknowledge my existence when I worked on the Druthers, and I thought it was some stuck-up rich person thing but it wasn't."

They shouldn't be talking at all right now as to not scare away the fish, but they do it anyway. They both know he won't let it go until it's out of his system for good. He wouldn't allow himself to forget it if he wanted to, so its better to talk it out than turn stir crazy from ruminating over it 24/7.

Though it's, as he worded it yesterday, hot as balls out, being by the sea lessens the feeling of it by a landslide.

The breeze they crave whenever they work on their huts or forage through the forest for wild berries, coconuts, or potential building supplies blows on them without pause for the time they spend here, which almost makes it more dangerous. They stand under the direct harm of the UV rays frying them without truly feeling it burn yet, and he dreads the next few days in anticipation of the returning sunburn he just peeled off of his shoulders the other day.

JJ walks down the side to get a better view of the water, balancing precariously on the sharpened edge with the spear clenched tightly in one hand. The breeze is strong enough to threaten his balance, but he holds firm and digs his toes into the sedimentary rock for traction. His body sways in the midday sun with the struggle for stability, or, at least he suspects its midday.

Since being stranded here, time is a foreign concept to them. With no phones, clocks, or any guide to go off of other that the position of the sun above to display the hours that pass, they've lost complete track of what day it is, let alone how long minutes or hours truly are in comparison to the endless summer they live within. They suspect it's been a month since they were left here, but, in all honesty, it could be two. None of them had the sense to mark the days in a tally until it was too late.

He says, lifting his arm to throw the spear, "Well, she is a stuck up rich person, so maybe it's just—"

"You know I'm right here, don't you?"

The sound of her voice from a few feet behind them startles JJ into turning around to look at her right when he lets go of the spear.

Unfortunately for him, the jerking movement throws off his carefully distributed weight and skews his balance, making the feet placed on the edge slip from underneath him and send him slipping down into the water. His calf is the first body part to hit the rocks, and the groan of pain he lets out at the feeling of the jagged rock slicing through his skin could make her heart stop mid-beat. But what truly scares her is seeing the back of his head hit the ground too.

Before he can slide the rest of the way into the water, two pairs of hands are grabbing onto his arms and heaving him up with all of their strength. She and John B grit their teeth with the effort it takes to pull him back up, their muscles burning from the strain, and once his feet are over the ledge, he pushes off the rock to help them the rest of the way. Drops of his blood disperse into the water off the edge from where he cut himself, dripping until there's hardly any left.

Once he's safely laid back down a few feet from where he slipped, Y/N is kneeling in front of him in a matter of seconds. The rock beneath her knees opens small cuts into her skin, but she doesn't pay it any heed. She sits on her heels to lessen the minor pain and lean forward to inspect the damage he took with nothing on her mind other than worry.

Soon enough, John B joins her to kneel at his feet as he sits up and watches them eye up his injury as though it’s some sort of ghastly, life threatening thing instead of a gash that won't need stitches. He watches them against the glittering ocean, waves washing up on the rocks around them to sting his wound with saltwater.

"It's a scratch, not an amputation," JJ says.

She ignores him with a frown lining her pretty features and twists his leg by the ankle to get a better view of the wound in the sunlight. It extends up the entire length of his calf, almost from ankle to knee, and dribbles fresh blood onto her hands as well as the ground beneath them. From what he can tell, it doesn't look all too severe. No muscle or bone can be seen, so it's a simple, superficial scratch.

When he doesn't get a response from either her or John B while they're too busy checking out his leg, he says again, "Guys, I'm serious, it's fine."

This time, she doesn't hesitate to answer.

"Yeah, well you may not need stitches but you still have infection to worry about. This wilderness isn't exactly the cleanliest place," she says retorts with as much snark as usual, and he quietly rejoices in the fact that she's finally acting normal after what happened last night, "Not to mention, you hit your head pretty hard. There's no need to act all tough."

He shrugs.

"It's not an act, it really doesn't hurt that bad."

John B stands and smears the blood on his hands off on the front of his shorts.

"I'll be right back, guys, I'm gonna go get stuff to patch him up."

Just like that, they are left plunging into silence as he is running away down the peninsula back to the beach they've claimed as their own.

Silence has always been her least favorite thing to share with JJ. She'd rather anything over it—screaming, fighting, joking, friendly conversation, or even what they did together yesterday night. Anything is preferable over the tense and insufferable feeling of silence when they're alone together with none of their friends, or their playful hatred, between them as a barrier between them.

Instead of seeing the same pestering jerk she always used to when she looks at him, she sees the memory of how he looked at her in the woods. He didn't look at her like she was the worst person to ever walk the planet, or like she was his least favorite Kook "Princess", he looked at her like she meant something to him.

They sit together in uncomfortable silence in the time it takes John B to rush to the beach and back, careful not to slip on the rocks the way JJ did, with the supplies from the dinghy in his arms. It isn't much to work with, but at least it's something to keep the nasty wound on his leg protected from dirt and germs. She's sure he'd leave it uncovered and up to fate if he had it his way.

Before he can set them down on the wet rocks, thus ruining the gauze and bandages in craters filled with ocean water, she gestures at JJ with a stern command, "Take off your shirt."

His brows raise.

"Shit, Princess, take me out to dinner first."

She groans in frustration, "Can you be quiet for a second and actually listen to me for once?"

He catches John B's gaze with wide eyes, but complies nonetheless, reaching down to tug the tank off of his torso by the frayed hem until it's balled up in his closed fist to hand off to her. Her eyes only linger on his body for a quick second on accident before snatching it from him.

Her bloodstained palms lay the shirt out on the flattest stretch of rock she can find to act as a barrier from the small puddles of water to protect the supplies. One nod at John B has him setting them down atop the navy fabric as she glances up at JJ with a smug smile.

"Believe it or not," she taunts, unscrewing the cap to the disinfectant, "I didn't ask for it so you could sit there and look pretty."

The words throw him back in time to their conversation on the beach while they thatched the roof to their hut, and he wonders how long she's been waiting to throw that back in his face since he first said it.

He grins at her as he asks, "You think I'm pretty?" but before he can say more, she's pouring a generous amount of the hydrogen peroxide along the length of his cut without a warning for him to prepare himself. His leg jerks away on instinct to save himself from the burning sensation, but she grips his ankle tightly enough to force him to stay still.

His nose scrunches up with the urge to groan in pain, and he does a little. Through grinding teeth, he winces in response to the peroxide slipping into every cell of open skin and bubbling up like the white water of the waves as it kills the bacteria lingering in the gash.

"Does it hurt now?" Y/N asks.

She's looking up at him through her lashes with her lips curled into a smirk as she packs gauze onto the wound until it's covered to her satisfaction. And it should be the last thing he's thinking about right now after cutting up his leg and hitting his head hard enough to worry her about concussions, but he can't help it. Looking down at her like this, it's impossible for him to not think about the unfinished business they have.

Everything is the same as it was yesterday—the tattered white top, the red panties in place of a bikini, sunburnt cheeks, and a taunting look that he'll never get tired of seeing. But that's precisely why he's reminded of it. She's wearing the same clothes and looking at him the way she did on the beach before any of last night's antics occurred, and he can't keep himself from wondering if it'll happen again.

"Yeah," he finally responds.

Her smirk grows for a second before she gets back to work.

"Good."

JJ subtly eyes her up from where she shifts on her knees to set the open gauze wrappers under the peroxide bottle in exchange for the bandage wrap, but he isn't as subtle as he thinks. She can feel his stare no matter how sneaky he attempts to be. He may be able to evade John B's attention, since he dove into the ocean to retrieve the wooden spear that began to float out in the tide, but she never misses a thing. Not when it comes to him.

When he looks at her, he finds memories.

Her legs folded up beneath her bring him back to how smooth they felt on his palms when he lifted them up around his hips. Her rosy lips pressing into a line in concentration bring him back to the coconut flavor he tasted on them. Her nipples poking against the fabric of her shirt bring him back to when he lifted it up over her breasts to suck at the sensitive skin until he got a moan from her—There isn't a place he can stare without going back to last night.

Part of him hates that.

He can't stand that a girl who he spent the last five years hating has found a way into his daydreams. Why couldn't it have been anyone else? Why did she have to lure him into her trap? He supposes there's nothing he can do about it now, though. After hours of stewing over it, he's reached the conclusion that it was likely a one-time thing, a mistake made in the heat of the moment that she won't make again, and he should get the idea of it out of his head.

When she has to adjust her grip to hold the gauze in place while she wraps the bandage around his leg, he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and jerks away again. She glances up at him with her best, "Are you kidding me?" face. Didn't he say he was tough?

"I'm starting to think you're a sadist, 'cause it's like you're trying to make it hurt," he says.

She gasps, feigning offense.

"Me? Enjoying this? It's not like we've hated each other for years or anything."

And though he may not realize it, this is her way of distracting him from the pain of having her apply added pressure to his cut while she wraps the bandage into place. It has to be tight enough to keep water and sand out, but not so tight that it cuts off circulation, and while it may have been tolerable without her touching it, the contact is enough to make it worse for him.

He asks, "Uh, speaking of, why are you the one doing this? Isn't it some kind of HIPAA thing to treat patients you've threatened to violate with tree branches before?"

The sound of her laughter makes his stomach flutter with butterflies, and he wonders what the hell is wrong with him.

"That's not what HIPAA is, genius"—her eyes crinkle at the sides with her wide smile while she wraps his leg—"and I'm the one doing this because I know way more medical shit than the rest of you."

Even Pope.

"Ohhh right, I forgot. Your dad is this hotshot surgeon and that makes you think you know everything," he taunts.

The casual mention of her father makes her chest ache with something not many of the Pogues, excluding Pope, have felt since being stranded on this island. With their parents either disowning them, absent, abusive, or dead, they have no reason to resist the allure of living here for the months or years it may take to be rescued, but she does.

She misses him.

For the longest time since her mom died, it was her and her dad versus the world. In everything they did, they did it together, and before she met Sarah, he was the closest she had to a best friend. Since they had no other family to help watch her as a child, she grew up in the hospital with him, drawing with crayons on his office’s printer paper with her babysitter and picking up small things along the way from watching him for so long.

He could've chosen to leave her at home, sure, but he didn't want to miss out on seeing her more than he already did, so she spent the majority of her childhood in offices, waiting rooms, and the indoor playground of the PEDs wing.

She takes a deep breath to steady herself after the sucker punch of being reminded of her dad and says, "Well, I know enough and, thankfully for you, I'm the one doing this instead of John B."

From far away, twenty or so feet offshore where their friend is paddling through the water with the lost spear held in one hand, they hear John B shouting an offended, "I heard that!" back at her. It draws a soft chuckle from them both, and she silently thanks him for distracting JJ one last time as she finishes and secures the bandage so it won't unravel.

She wipes her hands off on her water-soaked thighs one more time to get as much of his blood off of her fingers as possible before she reaches out with both arms extended to offer him help to stand. He takes them with a murmured, "Thanks," as they both try not to show how affected they are by the casual touch.

It makes them feel pathetic that something as small as holding each other's hands makes them remember what they did and desperately wish to continue it. Her throat bobs with how she must swallow the lump in her throat at their close proximity, barely breathing now that he's standing close to her with less than a few inches between them.

For a second, they don't move away. They stay face to face, and all she can think of is how badly she wants to kiss him again. But she can't do anything yet, not when she hears someone screaming from the water.

"There's a shark!" John B screams as he paddles back faster than he's ever swam in his life, already close enough to the peninsula that they can see the terror in his eyes when they turn to look.

Surely enough, there a tip of a fin too pointed to pass off as a dolphin cutting through the surface of the water to alert them of the fish's presence, but if that weren't enough, the water is clear enough for them to see its outline.

Thankfully for him, it isn't huge. It looks about as long as he is tall, but that doesn't change the degree of danger. Just because it isn't as big as other sharks doesn't make a bite any less lethal, especially when their only form of medical attention rests on her knowledgeable yet inexperienced shoulders.

For once in his life, JJ is frozen with no clue of what to do.

He's always the man with the plan, the one who jumps into action when others choke up and sit on the sidelines, but this makes him falter. What can he do to help other than stand here and pray John B can out-swim a shark? He's helpless, and now that he's faced with the prospect of losing his best friend for a second time, he doesn't know what to do.

It was his blood in the water that must have attracted the shark, and he was so caught up in his own drama with her and the pain of his cut that he didn't consider the danger of John B jumping in to retrieve the spear he dropped. It's his fault. His best friend is about to be eaten by a shark and it's his fault—

The blurred image of her rushing past in his peripheral vision rips him from his stormy thoughts, and right when he thought it couldn't get worse, it does. Water splashes up around her body and swallows her under the surface after she leaps off the edge of the rock with the aluminum spear from the dinghy raised in her dominant arm.

"Y/N!"

Before he even realizes what he's doing, JJ is screaming out her name, screaming it like he cares, and damns the consequences to dive in after her.

While he was frozen, she sprung into action without thinking of her own life first. She knew he was close to the rock, but not close enough to swim faster than a predator designed for the conditions of the ocean. It took one glance at the spear resting to the side for her to lean down, scoop it up, and get a running start to jump out as far as humanly possible. Various joints and muscles ached from how she strained to push herself far off the rock, taking flight with nothing but their survival in mind.

She sucks in a heaving breath upon breaking the surface, but she doesn't take a second to pause with John B paddling up to her so soon.

"Go back!"

The only answer she gives him is, "Use your spear!" before she brings hers out of the water in anticipation of the grey figure bolting straight for them.

It's a stupid plan, but it's the only one she has, and if one of them is in danger, they'd all risk everything they have to protect them. After all, they're already trapped here with the threat of death every day. Is there anything more worthy of dying for than your friends?

Neither of them is necessarily trying to kill it yet either, they're trying to keep it at a safe distance or hurt it enough so it swims away from them, but she puts all of her strength into spearing the fish between the eyes anyway. Her legs kick tirelessly to keep her afloat while she and John B stab as accurately as they can, choking down a mouthful of salty ocean water from how her head sinks at the surface without the help of her arms to keep her up.

Blood stains the water with a crimson hue spreading out around their bodies—whether it's theirs or the shark's, she doesn't know—and she must keep her lips clamped shut to prevent it from spilling into her mouth, breathing solely through her nose. She can tell her legs are soon to give out on her, but then a pair of hands latch onto her body. Call her irrational or stupid, but even with the clear distinction of human hands on her waist, her mind reacts in instinctual fear.

The touch makes her jolt mid-stab and sobers her feral mind back to reality for a moment until she realizes it's a human touching her, not the shark.

It's JJ.

His arms wrap around her thighs and hoist her up out of the water as much as he can while still swimming, effectively pushing himself underwater with one last gasp for air.

The sudden shift in view has her gaze shifting around to take in the new sights with a gush of red water rushing off of her onto the splashing surface: a light grey tail whips around in the chaos, the shark's head oozes blood from the multiple puncture wounds that didn't push quite deep enough, and its jaws snap right where John B's arm is before he yanks it back.

After a fraction of a second, it clicks with her that there's no time to waste watching her friend almost get his arm chomped off while she takes in the unbelievable sight. Her slippery grip on the handle remains as firm as possible, and she raises the spear over her head with an improved accuracy she never could've had from where she previously aimed it before. All of their shots landed well enough, but with the height advantage, she won't allow herself to fuck it up this time with her friend's life hanging in the balance.

She hardly recognizes her own frantic voice shouting at him, "Spear it in the gills!"

Her hands bring the razor-sharp tip of the spear down into its head repeatedly, and she isn't sure whether it's the splashing water or tears wetting her face when she buries the weapon down into it for a final time right when John B lodges his wooden spear in its gills.

Whatever she did, it must've hit its brain, because the animal halts its thrashing. Its teeth no longer snap at her friend, nor does its tail whip around in the water as violently as it did a moment ago.

As quickly as it started, it drops off into a sickening calm that leaves the white bubbles dissolving into a puddle of bloody water surrounding the trio and the fish that dies with no small amount of guilt on her part. There was no choice but to kill it. It makes her ache on the inside, but how could she regret it if she knows it saved them? The guilt might ravage her for the upcoming days, but she can't bring herself to regret jumping in after him.

She hardly has the chance to process it before she's being pulled away by both of the boys, her view of the scene shifting drastically once more with the abrupt drop of JJ letting her down in favor of guiding her through the gentle waves. His calloused hand squeezes her arm enough to cut circulation off on their journey back.

Time rushes past her in the next thirty seconds or so it takes them to reach the peninsula again in a paranoid sprint away from where the dead fish floats. One of them, John B she thinks, tosses the aluminum spear he dislodged from the shark's head up onto the rocks and clambers his way back up on his own. The waves closer to land grow rougher than the tender current out where they killed the shark, and she grunts in pain as one sends her and JJ straight into the rocks. His body hits her back with a solid ‘thump’ and forces her to wheeze with the wind getting knocked from her lungs upon impact, nails cracking on the black rock from the desperate grip she uses in an attempt to lift herself.

Meanwhile, JJ can't seem to catch his breath either, nor can he think of anything other than her once he sees that John B isn’t injured.

As soon as he sees his friend is unmarked from the teeth of the shark after he's out of the water, he positions himself behind Y/N to help her out first. He places his hands on her backside to push her up as quickly as he can. Knowing that the carcass in the water will soon attract more sharks in the surrounding area into a feeding frenzy, he'd rather it be him than her. It's a thought that shoots by too fast for him to fully acknowledge the meaning or weight of it at a time like this.

Somehow within his adrenaline-crazed mind, he is careful not to push her onto the jagged edge that sliced his leg open earlier, then climbs after her with little space left between them.

She's coughing up saltwater onto the rocks as he scrambles over to her, eyes wild with the petrifying worry of anything bad happening to her. They scan over her arms, legs, stomach, and back, and he doesn't even realize his hands are reaching out to inspect her as frantically as she had with him when he got hurt.

His hands cup her face, petting over her dripping hair and forcing her to look up so he can see if she somehow got hit in the face. Never has his mind been so void of rational thought, and, knowing him and his impulsive tendencies, that's saying a lot. The confusion of his contradictory feelings for her muddle his mind. Worry and hatred, attraction and anger—they battle it out, but only two manage to reach him externally.

Worry and anger it is. Worry for obvious reasons. Anger because—

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

She has never heard him sound so vicious since the start of whatever odd relationship/friendship/enemy-ship they have. With his worried expression and how he checked her entire body for injury after helping her out of the water, the last thing she would've anticipated from him was anger. Especially not after she saved his best friend's life. Considering what she just did for him, she thinks he should be thanking her, not chastising her.

Behind her back, she can hear a collection of yelling voices and splashing footsteps over the water dripping from them. It can only be the rest of their friends racing up the peninsula to them, but she can't turn around.

She stares at him with utter confusion flooding her at his unexpected outburst. Speechless.

"What was I thinking?" she asks incredulously with her face still cradled between his hands, "I was saving John B's life!"

Their emotional distance and disagreement are made up for in abundance by how physically entangled they've become. It wasn't intentional. It was a result of him needing to get close enough to scour her exposed skin for any bites, but now that they're sitting so near to each other, they forget to back away.

John B is too busy to engage with them.

He's doubled over on the ground with the compulsion to vomit the contents of his stomach into the ocean, but he doesn't dare get close to the edge again after what they went through. Instead, he positions himself away from them and their approaching friends until the half-digested food is forced back through his mouth. The acidic bile scorches his throat and nostrils on the way out.

JJ doesn't have the opportunity to retort back something about her being stupid, because Pope is the first person to reach them and ask, "What the hell happened?"

The rest of the group isn't far behind. It's Kie who asks the next question, then Sarah, then Cleo. They all pop off in rapid succession before either of the three of them can answer.

"Are any of you hurt?"

"Why is he throwing up?"

"Is that a shark?"

The last question draws everyone's attention over to the half-sunken mass of fish bobbing up and down on the breaths of the sea with a wooden spear sticking straight out of its gills. Though it isn't the biggest, most intimidating shark to roam the ocean, its presence doesn't fail to make everyone who looks at it shudder with the realization of what must have happened.

John B wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and points over at her with his trembling arm outstretched.

"She killed it."

The four of them whip their heads in her direction, jaws nearly falling off their faces in disbelief, but she doesn't say anything yet. Because as soon as they feel the eyes of their friends burning into them, she and JJ realize, as though they're returning to reality from the hazy layers of a dreamscape, that they're still holding each other.

She's slumped halfway onto him from when he hauled her body closer to inspect her, so she's essentially sitting on top of him at this point. Her legs, bruised and scratched up from when the waves crested to send them crashing into the rocks, are entangled around his enough that they look back and forth between them and where his hands cup her face in surprise.

JJ doesn't know what came over him.

Now that he snaps out of it at the same time as her, both of them separating and nudging each other away until their bodies are no longer entwined, he feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

When he saw her leaping past him to jump into the water, his mind shut off. He wasn't thinking about himself, or the possibility of getting killed, or anything at all. He was only thinking of the danger she put herself in, then he dove in and the rest of his conscious mind faded away into pure survival instinct. Yet, even after he knew the immediate danger was gone, the adrenaline kept him on edge, desperate to get her back to land and pray none of them were hurt.

"It was trying to attack him," she rasps. Her throat is raw from the saltwater she choked on, and every word burns. "But we did it together."

She pushes herself off the ground with an exhausted sigh.

Muscles spent from the struggle in the water, her legs wobble beneath the weight of her upper body as she takes a few steps to help John B up from his position on his hands and knees. From what she heard, he has thrown up all he has left in his stomach and hasn't gagged again in a minute or so, so attempting to stand again shouldn't be too strenuous for him.

His hand is cold in her grasp from the water soaking their bodies, but it holds firmly enough for her to help him into his feet without their palms slipping apart. No patches of blood are visible on his shorts, nor are there any puncture wounds on him from the sharp teeth that snapped at his arm in the quick but vigorous fight.

They were very, very fortunate to have made it out alive, and when he looks down at her face, he feels nothing but gratitude for the girl he previously saw as nothing more than his girlfriend's best friend. They went into the water as casual acquaintances, companions of convenience and the happenstance of being forced onto this island together, but they've come out of it differently. Now, they're friends.

Now, she's a Pogue.

He smiles at her, glancing up at their friends as their questions die down at the sight of his crazy grin, and says, "That was some real Pogue shit right there, Y/N." His eyes come back to meet hers. "I think it's about time we officially make you one of us. What do you think?"

She's opening her mouth to respond when Kiara cuts her off. The rest of them are staring at the trio as if they have ten heads sprouting from their bodies for not immediately surrendering more details of their near-death encounter other than saying she killed it.

"I'm sorry, can we please rewind to the part where you got attacked by a shark first?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, can I get a drumroll please for..."

The campfire is roaring with the abundance of sticks, leaves, and branches thrown onto the pile to fuel it as she feels a strong pair of arms looping around her thighs to lift her into the expansive, star-flecked sky.

In a flash of haunting memory, she relives the moment where JJ dove into the water after her and lifted her body above the surface to give her the high ground over the shark. She relives its thrashing hunger, the water splashing on her, and the cloudy hue of blood around them that she hoped wasn't either of the boys. For a second, as the world grows taller with her new perspective, she is brought back to the sudden shift she felt then and feels her stomach drop in panic, anticipating the danger.

But then the sound of her friends laughing, as well as the surging fire and crashing waves, comes back to her and forces the frightful flashback away. Her hip fits perfectly in the curve of John B's shoulder, and she lets her head fall back in giggling laughter at how he hoists her up in the air as though she's a holy figure of worship for the Pogues to kneel to.

His voice can likely be heard across the entire island when he shouts, "The Shark Conqueror!"

The group erupts into a triumphant mixture of cheers and laughter that fills the beach, everyone celebrating in their narrow escape earlier today...everyone except JJ.

After John B divulged the gory details of what happened, from JJ's fall to her picking up the spear and jumping in to save him from the shark, they made their way back with enough conversation to last the month. They all asked questions and took peeks back at where it happened in morbid curiosity, wondering how on earth they managed to come out of the situation without a scratch.

The rest of the afternoon continued on with the same buzzing energy that can only be created from the thrill of being alive. She's felt it many times since joining Sarah's group of friends that seem to find trouble wherever they go, but she has never felt it as vehemently as she does tonight. It's a mixture of euphoria, shock, and soul-crushing guilt for having to hurt another living creature, even one that was intending to make a meal of her friend.

No matter how much she grows up or discovers more about herself as a person, feelings never stop being as frustrating as they were to her as a child. You can get better at processing and hindering explosive reactions to them, but they never simplify. She doesn't know why she feels so much at once. She doesn't know why she feels simultaneously on top of the world and thrown off the edge of a cliff, but she thinks it has to do with him.

Since they walked back to the beach and talked about what happened until the day withered into night, which led them here to the “official” ceremony of her being named a Pogue for life, JJ hasn't spoken to her once.

Suddenly, the shoe is on the other foot.

Much like how she avoided him all night last night leading into this morning, he doesn't talk to her. He tries not to look at her too from where he sits on the log of driftwood across the fire, but it's somewhat inevitable with the spectacle John B is making of her at the moment.

Painted in the warm tones of the firelight like a goddess in her own right, Y/N is impossible to look away from, and it makes him angrier than he already is. A handwoven circlet crafted from the hibiscus and hippeastrum flowers growing in the forest around their camp sits atop her head. It doesn't fall to the ground with the movement of her throwing her head back in laughter. It stays in its rightful place against the rule of gravity until her face comes back into view for him to quickly look away from.

It dampers her laughter to see him avoiding her gaze so adamantly, taking a swig of water from one of the small cups they carved from wood and turning to talk to Kie to keep himself busy. The distinct sensation of being on top of the world slips away with the feeling of his cold avoidance and John B lowering her back to the ground until her bare feet sink into the soft sand.

Before she can start sulking about it for the foreseeable future, Sarah steps up beside her.

The familiar touch of a hand on her shoulder brings her comfort amidst her confusion and hurt over the way JJ is acting, and when she turns to see a pretty face looking fondly at her, a warm smile finds her lips.

"Pogue for life?" Sarah asks.

The three words bring make her smile grow the same way it had when she was talking to JJ on the peninsula. It crinkles the skin around her eyes with its unrestrained happiness to hear them because, as much as she pretends to let JJ's comments roll off of her, tonight marks one of the first times she's felt at home with them.

That's not to say they haven't made her feel welcome in the past, they did, but this isn’t the same. This is closer, this is the type of bond that's forged in situations like these where people have no choice but to rely on each other or let their worlds collectively fall apart, and she thinks, for the first time, that she could live here with them forever if she must.

None of them know how much time has passed since they arrived here, least of all her, but it sure as hell feels like an eternity. At first, she could barely withstand the idea of living here for months with the intention of being rescued as soon as possible, but now...

She brings Sarah into an embrace tight enough to force the air from their lungs.

"Pogue for life," she echoes back with her face buried into the salt-scented tresses of dirty blonde hair cascading over her tan shoulders.

Would it be crazy of her to think that this is where they're meant to be? That they're her family and this place she has fantasized about escaping is now their home?

After all, the lush island provides everything they need to sustain themselves with the rationing, scavenging, and hunting routines they adhere themselves to. Freshwater runs down the land in a stream from a water source uphill, plenty of different edible plants grow in the forest, and there's so much left of the expansive land to explore; it's perfect. Everything here is perfect for them, calling out to them to make it their home, but there's one little problem as of right now, and he's sitting across the fire behind her back.

Sarah's arms squeeze around her shoulders once to bring her in even closer.

"Thank you for saving him," her voice is so hushed, Y/N can hardly hear it with her lips brushing the shell of her ear to whisper into it, "I'm not gonna get all mushy with you right now, but I don't know what I would've done if"—Sarah's breath hitches in her throat, and she shakes her head—"I just wanted to thank you."

When they pull apart, Y/N is looking back at her with a knowing expression, one that says everything she can't in the presence of the others, and Sarah can't help but mirror it.

It isn't long before the blonde-haired beauty is whisked away by her boyfriend to help him cook the crabs they caught closer to shore after their encounter with the shark. Not wanting to swim out or risk slipping off the rocks again with the dead fish promising to lure more predators to their area for the next week or so, they settled for hunting for shellfish and making good use of the fruits they find growing in wild abundance in the forest.

The night ticks away in swiftly passing minutes thanks to the humorous company of the people around her.

She nearly chokes on a mouthful of banana as Cleo tells a story from before she met them, when she used to live in Nassau and work jobs with Terence and Stubbs on ships. For such new additions to the group, they both fit surprisingly well with the lifelong childhood friends that sit around and banter with such ease together.

They talk, laugh, dance, and eat together, and there are moments when she feels happier than ever. There are moments exactly like when John B lifted her up and made her giggle at how their friends cheered on her behalf in indulgence of the silly "ceremony" they did, half out of boredom and half out of gratitude for what she did. But then she is reminded of the man sitting on the outskirts of the group with his features hardened into an expression of contemplation she wishes she could decode.

The night breeze feels heavenly on her perpetually overexposed skin. It blows into the fire and allows it to swell from the oxygen supply, crackling and popping embers out every so often like the spark of the zippo lighter JJ fidgets with in his restless hands. The movement attracts her wandering eyes while they should be focused on Cleo and Kie dancing around the fire with boisterous laughter while Sarah and Pope sing for them.

She keeps herself honed in on the opening and closing of the lighter under the guidance of his ring-clad fingers for the next minute or so.

They may have been pitting themselves against each other since they met, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know him well. If anything, the keen attention that her old hatred for him forced her to keep on him made her memorize everything there is to know. And she surely has picked up on the nervous habit of him playing with the lighter whenever he's thinking, whenever there's something crawling under his skin that he can't piece together.

He sits with his back to her, facing out toward the ocean so all she can see is the hand he uses to flick the lighter open and shut with. With a quick glance at the rest of their friends to see if any of them are watching or wanting to speak with her, she pushes herself up from the log and dusts her sandy palms on her shirt.

The tracks of her footsteps lead around the corner of the driftwood he rests against until her feet appear, sunken into the sand in front of him. It takes a lot of control to not allow himself to follow up the length of her body, panning up along her legs until he sees that infuriatingly tenderhearted set of eyes looking down at him.

However, he doesn't have a choice in looking when her hand outstretches in a silent invitation. His first glimpse of her in the last half-hour shows her jerking her chin in the direction of the beach curving around the bend of the island.

This morning, he probably would've taken her up on the offer. He would've done anything to get a few minutes alone with her, but now he can't see past his anger and doesn't know why. He doesn't know why it hasn't calmed yet, but, in truth, it has more to do with him than it does her idiotic yet brave decision to fight off a shark today. Trust him, it still has a lot to do with the idiotic shark thing, but the rest is lost in translation for him.

"Not in the mood," he dismisses her.

Her brows furrow and form a crease between them as she tries to find something to say but comes up with nothing. At least not until it clicks with her what he thought she was trying to do by inviting him to walk with her.

The last time they went off on their own together, it ended in an explosive encounter they have yet to erase from their minds. It's what greets them whenever they close their eyes for a second too long, existing in their wildest daydreams and fantasies whenever they have a spare moment to themselves. Hell, he can't stop thinking about it even when he's already occupied. It was the reason why he didn't catch any fish this morning before the incident that made him pissed at her in the first place. He couldn't stop thinking of her.

"Oh," she murmurs and starts to kneel down until her knees are sinking into the sand the same way she did when patching up his leg. Her eyes peek over his shoulder to ensure the others didn't hear them—"That wasn't what I meant...I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about today. It must have been a lot to process, since he's your best friend and all, and—"

JJ snaps, unable to tolerate it anymore, and stands up from his spot on the sand to move away from her.

"You don't need act all therapist with me, okay? I'm fine, and I don't need you to fix me if that's what you wanted. Today was fine. Everything's fine, so let it go."

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish with a loss for words. For the second time in the span of a minute, she is grasping blindly for something to say in the wake of him shocking her to silence. He's starting to walk past her but she doesn't let him. Her hand shoots out to stop him and holds onto his arm to turn him back despite his rudeness.

Underneath it all, her concern touches him deeply. It shouldn't trigger a reaction like this in him, so why does it? What about today set him off? He hasn't been this genuinely angry with her since before the hunt for the gold began, before she started to blend into their friend group and establish herself as one of them.

"Woah, woah, woah," she says, "I never said that. I thought that you needed someone to talk to. You know, as a friend."

Their friends start to notice their interaction tensing up now. Before, they didn't pick up on her stepping away for a second to check on him. Now, it's impossible to ignore what unfolds hardly six steps from where they watch as slyly as they can. The two of them haven't had a conversation as cold as this one in months, and what he says next takes it to a place that freezes over the connection they made last night and shatters the warm place it held in her heart.

He scoffs.

"We're not friends. If you think you gotta act different 'cause you threw yourself at me last night, don't bother. You hate me and I hate you. That's how it is."

No nicknames, jokes, or anything to act as a buffer, just cruelty. Rejection.

Though they truly were trying to pretend like they weren't paying attention, every single one of their friends stops and stares. A chorus of hushed reactions sound off from across the fire, and the faint sound of Kie muttering, "Oh shit," is the first thing to reach their ears. It's needless to say that none of them could've expected something so callous to come from him, not after what they saw when they ran up to them on the peninsula this morning.

With the way he was holding her then, doting on her and cradling her face between his hands even in the midst of his anger at what she did, they sooner expected the pair to admit they're dating than have a blowout like this.

In the delayed seconds it takes for her to realize what the fuck he just said to her, he watches her face shift from a look of concern to sadness, to flush-faced embarrassment, then finally to anger. Her teeth grind together, nostrils flaring on her inhale, and in one quick moment, she comes to a conclusion within herself.

She reaches up to rip the handmade crown of vibrant flowers off her head with flames to match the camp fire flaring up in her eyes for him. Before she can do anything, he already knows he crossed a line, if not multiple lines. It's evident in everything he sees, from the hurt look on her face to the force with which she shoves the crown into the center of his chest to send him stumbling back a few steps. Just like yesterday, except it couldn't be any more different.

"Fuck. You." She spits the words as though they're venomous, and he almost shrinks away under the intensity of her stare, “Go find somewhere else to sleep tonight, 'cause it sure as hell isn't gonna be with me."

Petals flutter out upon impact against his solid chest and float peacefully to the sand around his feet as he watches her turn on her heels and storm off toward their hut. Though, after what he did and what she said to him as a goodbye, it isn't really theirs anymore, is it? At least not for tonight, tomorrow, or the next day until he finds a way to make her hear him out for an apology.

He stands there, frozen, the entire time he watches her leave. Nothing can move him from the spot, not even Sarah knocking her shoulder against his with a pointed glare on her way past to follow her into the moonlit darkness.

He doesn't even resist the disappointed looks he gets, or the shoulder check from Sarah. This time, he deserves it. He deserves every ounce of their judgment. All she was trying to do was make sure he was okay and he was too consumed in his unreleased frustration from today to see it. And, in a way, he's still frustrated over it, but it's greatly overshadowed by the guilt seeping through him.

The shadowy shapes of the two girls disappear into the small hut further down the beach, and JJ is left with nothing to do but look down at the flower crown clutched to his chest in regret.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Vampire Chris and jake get stranded in the middle of nowhere one night. Maybe a car crash or something. As they walk back the sun starts to rise.

CW: Car crash, bruising, seatbelt burn, vampire whumpee, caretaker turned whumpee

The moment of the crash is gone.

He opens his eyes to the aftermath.

Jake blinks, the world spinning, and his head drops back against the headrest of the driver's seat. The world is still lurching, sickeningly, in circles around him. Something is ticking, the engine maybe, slowly cooling down and shit, at least it's not on fire.

The air bag has a smear of terrible vibrant red against its pillowy white as it slowly deflates, and all he can do is stare at it until he realizes the blood must be his own.

One hand comes up to touch at his forehead, and his fingers come away wet and red, too. What he'd thought was sweat is a head wound, bleeding down one side, tickling his cheekbone and jaw. It stings, a little.

The pain seems distant, somehow, like it's being held at arm's length. As if he's looking at his pain from a distance further than he can close.

"Ch-... Chris, you okay, buddy?" He turns, and the passenger seat is empty. The air bag deployed on that side, but there's no blood.

The door is standing open, dome light still on. It takes a long few moments of staring before he can understand that the door is open because Chris forced it open, closed his hands on the metal and squeezed until it bent beneath his strength and let him out.

Jake's body aches as he shifts forwards, fumbling to unbuckle his seatbelt. All the pain is filtering into his senses, piece by piece as if he can only understand a wound once he sees it.

He can't remember the crash.

They were at a four-way stop, listening to some of the terrible pop music Chris loves about the modern world, and Jake had pulled through. They were laughing at some lyric that Jake had had to explain, that had made the little vampire boy flush a little at the definition.

Then there were headlights blinding him, overtaking everything. Chris had yelled something and Jake had yelled something and then-

The moment is gone.

So is the entire back half of his car.

He turns around with a hiss to stare right out a giant gaping hole where his backseat should be into the cool, clear night.

Parts of his car are strewn haphazardly across the road and the grassy ditch he's come to a stop in. As he looks, he can see the frame of a door, crumbled metal that must be his trunk, a tire. Another tire. The bumper on the ground. Glass and metal everywhere.

The stop signs at the fourway are all standing totally untouched, except for one bent at a hard angle, leaning like a man fighting a strong wind.

The sweater he'd been wearing when he got in the car - removed and tossed carelessly in the backseat to pick up later - is hanging off the bent stop sign.

It's fucking spotlessly clean still.

He blinks.

Blinks some more.

What the fuck?

He'd driven Chris up into the hills to go star-gazing, making the most of Chris's bubbly energy that only comes out at night and his classes being canceled tomorrow because of some issue with the campus water supply. This is countryside up here, with houses miles and miles apart. Remnants of old orchards and homesteads, still kept by the descendants of the men and women who traveled out here. Nobody drives out this way this late. It could be morning before someone finds him.

His phone. He can call for help.

Jake looks around, but his phone is nowhere to be seen. He digs around the footwell, what he can touch of it, and there's nothing. Nothing nothing nothing.

His windshield is shattered, open to the outside, and he wonders if his phone flew out of it. It was on the dash, wasn't it? On Chris's side...

Shit.

It could be anywhere in the grass, and he's a fucking moron who keeps his phone on silent or vibrate 24 hours a day. He'll never hear it out here.

First things first, then.

He settles for trying to open his door.

It's been crunched, just a little. Enough that it won't swing out, and he has to throw his shoulder against it, grunting in pain, again and again until finally it nudges just enough for him to fall onto shattered tiny squares of safety glass on the ground. A water bottle is lying there. It's Dasani.

He hates Dasani water, but it'd been free at the gas station they'd stopped at if he bought a bag of chips, so...

Oh, right. His car is full of fucking gasoline.

He groans, scrambling away from the vehicle, trying to remember what a safe distance will be if his car catches on fire or fucking explodes in the middle of the night. At least if it explodes it'll get someone's attention, right?

Shit, he's going to throw up.

Jake lays there, waiting for his stomach to settle, and then crawls again. He makes it up to the road, to the rough asphalt and the gravel that lines the side. The little pebbles sting his palms, rub dirt and dust into the cuts, but he ignores it.

He makes it to the road, twenty feet or so from his car, and then... then he just lays down.

"Chris..." He can barely think. Where has the little vampire gone? Why isn't he here, creeping out of the treeline to ask if Jake's all right? Did he run? Maybe he has Jake's phone. Maybe there was no signal and he's gone to try and find some, to make a call.

Maybe...

Fuck, it hurts to think.

Even just taking a deep breath hurts - something's wrong with his ribs. Bruised or broken. When he pulls his shirt up, he can see the seatbelt burn starting to deepen in color, a diagonal stripe from shoulder to hip written in bright red darkening to burgundy bruising, soon to turn purple and black. If he hadn't been wearing a heavy shirt it'd have torn his skin open. One side of his neck is rubbed raw, he can tell when he touches it and has to pull his fingers away at the spike of pain.

There are spots of dark on his pale shirt, blood seeping through or dripping from his forehead.

But, shit. It could be worse. Looking at the back half of his car, it seems like a goddamn miracle that it isn't.

Jake pulls his legs under him and tries to stand up.

His right leg just won't fucking do it.

Rather than take his weight, it buckles with a spike of pain so bad Jake cries out and collapses back onto the road.

As if it were a dam breaking, all the adrenaline holding off the worst of the pain seems to wear away at once.

Everything hurts, suddenly, a sickening wash of pain breaking against him like he's nothing but a shell to be worn to sand. He aches when he breathes, when he doesn't. A cough makes him whimper as his ribs creak and crack. His head throbs, his hands sting, his leg is swelling even as he looks at it, a broken bone. Definitely a broken bone.

"Jesus Christ," He groans, rolling onto his side, his face pressing into gravel and safety glass.

Nat won't notice they're not home until morning.

No one's going to know he's out here until after sunrise, until he's not up to get ready for class and Chris isn't curled up in the closet to sleep in his nest of blankets and pillows. No one's going to know what happened, and where the everloving fuck did his phone go?

Time passes. He doesn't know how much.

Maybe Chris figured they can't protect him and took the fuck off. Maybe he's going to find somewhere new to crash, some new people to care for him. Maybe he's hunting.

Who the fuck knows?

He comes and goes, in and out of consciousness.

He can't stand, and sort of scooting and crawling around does nothing to help him figure out where his cell phone has gone. No one else drives by on this mostly-abandoned country road, and it was a stroke of seriously bad luck the asshole who hit them and ran was there at all.

Asshole was probably drunk, driving back from the bar, trying to use the backroads to avoid the goddamn cops.

Bad. Fucking. Luck.

Jake wonders if the asshole will even remember hitting his car in the morning, or if he'll wake up and discover the front of his vehicle all fucked up and have no idea how it happened.

He thinks he might pass clean out for a while.

That can't be good.

His head hurts worse when he wakes up.

He raises his head slowly at the sound of a distant rumble, an ancient truck engine coming closer. It takes more effort than he ever imagined just to get himself up to sitting, ready to wave down whoever it is - whatever fucking angel is on this road at what has to be 3 or 4 in the morning by now.

"Please," He whispers, dry lips scraping against each other. "Please, please don't run m'over... please..."

Headlights wash over the scene of the crash, fading everything to nearly black-and-white. Jake raises a hand to shield his eyes, blinking rapidly, as the blue-and-white Ford comes to an idling stop.

A door swings open with a creak and then slams shut again, boots crunching on the glass and debris on the road. Jake raises his eyes to see an old man in worn jeans and a grayish t-shirt staring down at him. "Well, I'll be damned," The man says, his voice low, a little rough around the edges. His hair's dark, but speckled with silver that's visible even in the night air. "You all right, son?"

Jake slowly looks back at his wrecked, ruined car, then back up at the man. "I'm pretty clearly not," He answers, then winces at his rudeness. "Sorry. I mean... no."

"That's all right. We all of us get a little more honest when we're bleeding from the skull. I'm gonna bet you aren't a natural brunette and I'm looking at a big old ton of blood there. What happened?"

"Guy ran the stop sign, hit me... drove off."

"Well, damn. What're you doin' up this way this late at night?"

"Would you... y'believe me if I said... star-gazin'?"

The man chuckles, but it's a low sound, and he moves closer. He pulls a heavy old cell phone out of his pocket - one of those goddamn flip phones that never dies or gets destroyed. It's like Captain Fucking America. Jake has to hold back a half-hysterical laugh.

"Hm, I might. It happens from time to time. Y'didn't come with a young lady, did you?" The man looks over the scene of the crash, searching for more people.

"No, no... just... jus'... I'm just here." He thinks of Chris, the open passenger door, the total lack of a vampire nearby. Is he hiding in the woods? If he's seen, or found out, he'll be hauled back off to be locked up somewhere, milked for venom for pharmaceutical drugs, treated like an animal. They can't admit he was here, he can't be seen. He must be hiding.

That's it.

Chris must just be hiding...

"Please, man, I-I can't find my phone to call for help-"

"I got you, son. I'll make the call. Likely your phone's just buried in the grass somewhere, we'll figure it out. You stay put right where you are, you don't want to move around and make any of it worse."

"Yes, sir." Jake stays where he is while the old man makes the call to 911, feeding him details when he asks, staring off into space when he doesn't.

They can pick Chris up when he and Nat come to get his stuff from the wreck tomorrow. They'll get him then. It'll be fine.

It'll be fine.

The old man hangs up and heads back to his truck, pulling out a battered old first aid kit. "You're lucky I believe in ghosts, you know."

"What? Why? Am I dead?" Jake looks down at his hands. They're scratched and bleeding, and he's pretty sure dead people don't bleed like that.

"No, son, no. But I wouldn't be out here if I didn't."

Jake blinks. "I... I don't follow."

"Well, had a little ghost show up at my bedroom window and refuse to shut up until I drove out here. Redheaded boy. Kept calling for a medic. Felt like I was back in the war for a minute before I realized it was him."

"Which... which war?"

The man fixes him with a stare as he crouches, old knees cracking as he does, in front of Jake. He opens the box and takes out some gauze and adhesive, antibiotic cream, something else Jake doesn't recognize. "You need medics in every kind of war there is, son. It doesn't matter which one. I've fought in two. But this boy called for a medic like he's seen the need for 'em before and didn't have time to save someone. Some kind of old ghost walkin' these roads saw you and made sure I knew."

Jake exhales, almost a laugh, and feels tears burn hot in his eyes. He realizes he's going to cry from sheer relief and exhaustion and pain, and he's not sure he can stop.

A ghost in the window means...

Chris left and ran for help.

"Thank you," he whispers, and he's not really talking to the old man at all.

-

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

[citrinesparkles]

cat.

jason todd, eventually x gender neutral reader. 1,388 words. notes: this is part one of i don't even know how many and i cannot believe how wildly out of hand this got. this was a 500 word idea and it's gonna be at least three parts someone help (thanks to @angelz-dust for being so patient with me and encouraging on this!!! would never have made it out of the drafts without you <3) warnings: danger to kids, mention of a couple arguing, animal illness (spoiler alert: it'll be fine i Promise), a little (lot) different than my usual edit: part two here!

"let me be perfectly clear: if you even think about showing back up here, i will know, and i will make your life a living hell until i finally put you out of your misery. understood?"

"yes! yeah man i get it. understood."

"then i'd get going, if i were you." the man scrambled to his feet and bolted off across the playground, leaving jason to shout after him. "and warn any buddies you might have, too!"

he picked up the discarded knife and pocketed it. he then turned around slowly, hands visibly empty in a careful attempt not to scare the two kids behind him- well, careful not to make it worse, anyway. they, understandably, seemed a little shaken already.

"are you both alright?" he asked softly, slouching just a little to seem as harmless as possible.

probably would have been easier if they hadn't just watched him threaten someone.

the older kid- probably fifteen, if jason had to place a bet- nodded silently before glancing back at the little girl he was still hovering in front of protectively, who was just... staring.

she couldn't have been older than six.

"jazz?" the boy asked, voice tight. "are you hurt?"

he was ignored. "are you superman?"

the question, innocent and earnest and a little timid, made jason laugh. "not quite, kiddo."

she tilted her head like a curious puppy, furrowing her brow. "why are you wearing a jacket?"

jason glanced up at the boy, who seemed comforted by her mini interrogation. good.

talking was a good sign, too, so jason crouched down to meet her at eye level.

"because it gets cold out here!" he said, raising his hands up with a small wiggle of his fingers. "gloves, too."

"well, duh," jazz said with a giggle- a win, jason thought. "no fingerprints."

he nodded. "also helpful."

"and the hat to hide your face!" she said proudly, stepping forward a little to point at his helmet.

"wow, you've got the whole thing figured out, huh?"

"mhm! my friend ricky loves batman and his friends. he talks about batman and nightwing and spoiler and robin and red robin and red hood and batgirl all the time! they hide their faces like you, ricky thinks it's because of bad guys."

"they're kinda cool, huh?"

"nightwing's my favorite," she said firmly, as though it was something she had considered at great length and was fully prepared to defend.

"not red hood?" jason smacked a hand to his chest in mock hurt, shifting back dramatically. "i'm crushed, truly."

"no, ricky says red hood used to be an alien, but then got bored and now he annoys batman for fun instead. that sounds mean."

...well, okay, maybe he did annoy the big guy for fun a little. "that's an interesting theory, all right."

"ricky's got all kinds of theories. he thinks batman's a robot-" jason snorted- "and that nightwing was like pinochle."

"you mean pinocchio," the boy corrected quietly. "pinochle's what gramma plays."

"pinocchio!" she exlaimed, with a "ch" sound in the middle that made jason smile. "a doll that got turned human. that's how he does all the flips and stuff, he's got magic."

"hm, ricky seems like an interesting guy," jason said thoughtfully, making a big show of rubbing the chin of his helmet. "what do y-"

he was cut off by a loud, insistent meow, and jazz gasping even louder before taking off to the bushes.

"w- hey, don't rush off like that!" he said, shooting up off the ground as the boy sighed.

"there's this cat that she's been taking care of," he explained quietly. "the thing's got attitude for days but i think it's sick or something. jasmine's been bringing it little bits of tuna and chicken, but it's not like we can get it to a vet."

jason hummed. "why do you think it's sick?"

"it's thin, with its eyes all watery and sunk."

"might just be malnourished," he muttered.

"she's been trying to find it a home, y'know."

there was a wink-wink-nudge-nudge quality to the kid's voice that did not go unnoticed.

on one hand, it was good to hear something other than fear from him, but on the other... "what part of the tactical armor makes you think i'm an option?"

"the part where you just stuck around to check on us instead of running after that guy."

okay. maybe the quiet thing hadn't been so bad. the cocky 'amateur psychologist' thing was a little grating.

"you the real red hood?" the kid asked suddenly, shaking jason from his internal grumbling.

"what do you think?"

"i think you just saved our lives, and i wanna know who i'm thanking."

jason turned to him with a flourish. "red hood, baby saver extraordinaire. at your service."

"baby- dude, i'm seventeen!"

okay, so he would have lost his bet. "noted. still a baby, trust me."

"what are you under there, twenty something? whatever, grandpa."

jason chuckled, turning back to watch jasmine pet a small cat under one of the yellow lights littering the park. "you did well, looking out for her with that guy. you got a name?"

he scoffed. "would've been better if i'd kicked him between the legs right when he opened his mouth, instead of letting him get started on the whole 'what're you kids doing out so late?' bit," he muttered darkly, pausing for a moment before answering. "my name's jordan."

"well, jordan, what are you guys doing out so late?"

"mom works nights, and the neighbors were fighting. it was loud enough to wake jazz up, and it wasn't the kind of thing she needed to hear. i figured a trip to see her cat would be less awful than hearing them call each other things i wouldn't even call my friends." the breeze picked up, rustling the trees and catching on jason's jacket. "and then the asshole with the knife decided to make a bad night worse."

"is jazz your sister?"

"yeah, she's a good kid," jordan said, fond and warm. "sorry about the whole ricky thing, though. he's obsessed with those vigilante conspiracy videos and tells her all about them at school."

"no, no, it's fine. i can't wait to tell wing about his new origin story, he'll love that."

jasmine suddenly came bounding back towards them, grabbing their hands and yanking them to follow her. "c'mon, you need to meet cat!"

"you call it cat?"

jordan bristled subtly. "is there a problem with that, red?"

"no, no, it's an appropriate name. just making sure." jason waved his spare hand at his head. "helmet makes me hear things sometimes."

jordan opened his mouth, but his sister plowed right over whatever he was going to say, pulling on jason's hand again. "cat, meet... what's your name?"

"red hood."

"you can't be red hood!" she whirled around, indignantly putting her hands on her hips. "there's already a red hood in gotham. besides, you're not even wearing a hood, so it doesn't fit anyway."

jason turned his head to jordan, who was smiling- a good sign, but probably a bad omen for whatever he was about to say. "she's right, man. it's not a hood."

"tough crowd," jason muttered. "uh... then you can call me, uh-"

"bucket!" jasmine suggested happily, tapping his helmet. "because this looks like a bucket."

if there was one thing vigilantism had taught him, it was that sometimes you actually do need to pick your battles. this...

this was not worth fighting.

"sure, fine, whatever. hi, cat, i'm red bucket." he turned away from the kids- both of whom looked entirely too happy about the whole 'bucket' thing, he thought- and crouched down to finally look at the cat.

it did look a little sick, actually.

it was gray, and thin, and-

and now it was headbutting his knee like it was trying to push him over.

"cat likes you!" jazz cheered.

"sure does," jordan said pointedly. "isn't that interesting?"

jason opened his mouth, but his snarky comment died in his throat when the cat settled down right in front of him and blinked slowly up at him with a sweet tilt to its head.

...shit.

just- shit.

he sighed, standing up and looking back to jordan and his stupid, entirely-too-pleased-with-himself grin. "so, jazz," jason grumbled reluctantly, "where does cat live?"