#did i tell yall one of the times a few months ago i was nagging dad abt getting his insurance

[lunar-fey]

ohhhh my god. okay. so. my aunt does like, she buys random junk in bulk from retail wholesalers and then resells it on like, facebook marketplace and ebay and stuff. whatever. so my mom works for her. makes a flat $50 a day, regardless of the fact that shes disabled and doing hard labor for at least 8 hours a day, often 10+. and min wage here is $10 an hour but mom argued that $50 a day is still more than what she would make working the same hours at an actual job because of taxes...like girl that would be 50% taxes. you do not pay that fucking much. so thats already Bad.

but today mom shows me a video of a knife theyre gonna sell, and i watch 2 seconds and i realize its an automatic knife, and i tell her hey. thats illegal to possess in this state. let alone sell! and mom is like ohhh [aunt] knows what shes doing itll be fine.... we sell knives on there all the time she just doesnt put pictures and calls them something else on the listing to get around fb/ebays policies :)

LIKE. HELLO. THATS NOT BETTER. YOURE COMMITTING MULTIPLE CRIMES. *AS YOUR JOB.* and she was just like "its not a big deal she knows what shes doing." folks, this is the same aunt that, very illegally, paid me to sort through her clients confidential tax documents and bank records and stuff. because she works for a bank. and took the records home to sort them. i dont think she DOES know what shes doing, actually!

[weeb-writor]

Bakugou’s S/O dies in a crash, leaving him a single father

Hello, gonna be very honest I forgot how to read properly and read a request wrong and wrote a 3000 word fic for it, woohoo! But i mean at least you guys get a fic from it, lol. Italics are flashbacks, bold is reality trying to pull him out of his head, and the regular text is reality. The actual request should be up tomorrow. Reader is neutral and I didn't specify the birthing process! Hope you all enjoy.

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Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Bakugou’s S/O dies in a crash leaving him a single dad, he has flashes backs of your life together.

TW: Death, depiction of a car crash and blood. Kinde heavy angst

Words: 3052

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“I am so sorry sir but there's nothing we could do for them, w-” The doctor went on but the words slurred together in Bakugou's mind. This isn't how it was supposed to go, you were both supposed to grow old together. Supposed to send Kaori to her first day of school together. To bully the shit out of her first significant other. Go all out on each and every one of her birthdays. To give her at least 3 more brats to hang out with...to cry as you sent her off to college. This isn't how it was supposed to go, he was supposed to protect you, to be your hero. Everything you both had promised to each other was slipping through his grasped fist and the flashbacks were not helping either.

“Watch where you are going, Pomeranian.” You said to him.

“Pomeranian? The fuck, watch your mouth shitty extra!” He roared back at you.

“I think you’re the one who needs soap in his mouth, you're cursing every other word.” You cocked a brow at him.

“Whatever you god damn extra, get outta my way i'm gonna be late.” He backed off shocking his small group of friends.

“What the heck bakubro! If I said that to you I would be dead! You’re caught by the balls already!” Denki said pouting

“Whaddyah just say dunce face? I am not and it doesn't matter. I went easy cause they're so insignificant I wont see them again.” He said with a shrug as they walked into the training yard where their class was meeting.

“Alright, today we have a few helpers from other classes to help you with physical combat skills without the use of your quirks. Pair up with them, if you can actually beat them the first go than you pass. If you don’t, then well you fail, and will do supplementary training with me after every class.” Aizawa said, zipping himself into his sleeping bag.

“Hello class 1-A, Im Y/N. I am in charge of everybody you're about to fight, we've all trained in various types of Martial arts, and uhh you're probably all gonna lose but try your hardest alright?! I've got match-ups based on your physical abilities, so let's begin.” You said getting everyone into their pairs.

“So much for never seeing them again, huh?” Sero said laughing at the fuming bakugou.

“Yeah you’ll be seeing a lot more of me Pomeranian boy, but for now let me wipe the floor with you.” You said getting into a fighting position. He remembers how he lost that fight, terribly he might add. You only offered to help him after the loss, ignoring all his cries of protest. He didn't only lose the fist fight, he lost his heart to you. He had hoped you would never give it back to him, but here you are giving him his heart back. He hated these images, he wants them to stop.

“Bakugou”

“Go on a date with me.” You said as you and bakugou walked back to the dorms together after a sparring session.

“What!?” He yelled at you a deep shade of red.

“You know, on a date, and then you know if all goes well like 2 more before you kiss me and ask me to be officially yours because i'm not easy, you know?”

“Who asks like that!” He continued to yell.

“What did you want some flowers too, bakugou.” You giggled at him.

“You damn, dumbass! Fine but we're going now!” He said grabbing your hand and pulling you away.

“Wait but we are sweaty and I wanted to look nice! You're such a tyrant, Bakugou!” You sang as he pulled you away but slammed into his back as he came to a halting stop.

“Katsuki...call me Katsuki.” He said looking to the side with a blush. This moment was precious to him, your stupid giggle always brought brought blood rushing to his cheeks and made his heart race. As precious as it was, he begged his mind to stop, he didn't want to see what he couldn't have anymore… he wants to forget.

“Bakugou!”

“You know, if i knew you were so messy I wouldn't have moved in with you.” Bakugou yelled to you as he put up one of your many blankets that were always littered around the house.

“Sorry not Sorry, Kat, it's your fault for keeping this damn house like an ice box all the time.” You said as you shoved some more takeout into your mouth.

“And why did you order takeout, i wanted to cook instead of eating that shitty and so unhealthy food.” He nagged you some more but you only giggled. He smiled, that had become his favorite sound.

“Because Mr. Pro- Hero some of us are college students barely staying afloat! It's my last semester so let me live, you ass! Also you are so much like your mother babe, it's kind of funny.” You said to him. His head was bulging in irritation as he sat next to you.

“I can't believe I want to marry you…” He said shaking his head with a sigh. You put down your takeout and stared at him with wide, teary eyes.

“You want to marry… me?” You said to him, he chucked at you before placing a black velvet box in your hand.

“Yeah, so say yes and put the ring on.” He blushed looking away from you.

“You jerk, this is how you ask me? And like an idiot of course I'm putting on the ring with no hesitation.” You giggled around your tears, admiring the ring you had just placed on your finger.

“Yeah, as I recall, you asked me out the same way. Whaddyah want some flowers?” He teased you with a grin. You looked at him with burning passion before your lips met, engaging in a fiery dance of passion. Stop, stop. Please just stop, he begged his brain. At the moment he thought it was perfect, it was so you and so him. Now, he wished he did it on tv or yelled it from the rooftops. Maybe then it would have shown the universe, or god, or whatever was taking him from you just how much he needed and loved you. Just maybe it would have permitted this outcome.

“Bakugou!!”

You and bakugou stared down at the little 6 pound baby. She was sleeping peacefully for the first time since the girl came home, which was 4 day ago! Maybe it was because you had just taken her to meet her grandparents and she didn't want to deal with her grandparents much like her father.

“Give me that baby!” his mom said swopping the baby into her hands. You only giggled at her excitement but Bakugou threw a fit.

“Mom! She's a fuc-freaking newborn! You’ve got to be gentle and support her head! You’re gonna hurt her, it's dangerous” He shouted at his mom.

“Oh hush you ingrate. If that was true believe me kid you’d be dead by now, would've saved me a lot of trouble. Now come on little Kaori, I know you've got it.” She said looking down at Kaori.

“What's she got?” You asked curiously. The blonde did not respond, only blew a little stream of air on the baby's nose and then turned her towards you and the blonde next to you who was still pouting. The baby stirred before waking up giving you all the meanest mug you had ever seen come from a baby.  She stared at bakugou and then at you before going back to sleep.

“She’s got the bakugou bitch face or the bakugou glare or even the bakugou mean mug. However you want to call it but that doesn't matter cause she’s got it.” His mom said placing the sleeping baby in the basinet you guys had brought.

“Did that brat just glare at me!?” Bakugou whispers, causing you to burst into full belly laughter.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” he said to you trying to hide his small smile that was brought out by your laughing.

“Nothing, I just love you and I believe you just said H-E double hockey sticks so we're getting takeout on the way home, love.” You said kissing his cheek. He only stuck his tongue out at you before mumbling a quick ‘i love you back’. It's getting more painful now he's drawing closer to the day he knew his mind was counting down to. As much as he wanted to relish in the memory all he could think of was how Kaori wouldn't remember you or your melodious laughing. How he should have said I love you more clearly in that moment. He wanted it to stop, he wanted the flashes to stop, the memories to stop but they wouldn't and he knew because they were telling your story.

“BAKUGOU!!”

“Come here, dumbass I wanna cuddle!” Bakugou yelled from your bed.

“Hold on I just wanna call your mom and make sure Kaori is okay. It's the first time Kaori has been away so long. She’s only eleven months, she's probably scared without us.” You said with the phone in your hand pacing.

“Babe, if you are so worried you should know I called my mom while you were bathing. Kaori is chasings around my mom's fat cat. And my moms gonna call when they are putting her to bed so we can say goodnight. Now, get over here and quit worrying I want to cuddle you.” He said finally getting you relax enough to lay down, you rested your head on his chest.

“You're such a good dad, you were worried enough to phone your mom.” You said breathing in his caramel scent.

“Of course I did, I worry about you and Kaori whenever yall are out of my sight. I love you both too much yet not enough at the same time.” He said to you kissing the top of your head.

“Katsuki I want us to always be this way, I want to always be with you and kaori smiling. I love you both too much too.” You said back to him straddling him to meet his eyes.

“I want some more brats and a cat and a dog. I want everything with you. And I want it for forever” He said looking up at you with passion. He needs it to stop, he can't relive the same nightmare. He didn't want the image of you dying in his hands to replay, but that's where his mind was heading, wasn't it?

“Bakugou!? Can you hear me!?”

“You know when people said you become boring when you have a baby I didn't believe them but were totally boring. We just did 10 over the speed limit to pick up Kaori.” You said taking a glance in the mirror to see her cute little grumpy face.

“Baby I realized we were boring when we went to that baby store on our day off to look at baby stuff and we went “ ohh” and “awhh” to every third object we saw.” He said back to you with a chuckle. You giggled at him and your eyes fluttered shut for just a second, it was a second too long because when you opened them you slammed into a car ahead of you that had just been in an accident causing a pile up. Behind you a semi rammed into your suv doing terrible damage to the car and everyone inside. Bakugou was the first to wake and quickly fought to get himself free. Once he did he was all over you but you were in far worse shape and the metal of the car dug into you, slicing you open, and locking you into place.

“Noo.. Kat get Kaori first.” you whispered to him.

“Y/N, i'll get you out first, you're right here. Then we’ll get kaori together.” He said tears spilling from his eyes.

“Katsuki, please get Kaori first. Please, i'll try to get loose myself” You plead with him, he thought about it but you were more stuck than her and you were bleeding heavily from the metal cutting into your abdomen.

“Katsuki Bakugou! Her first, then me! I’ll wait for you, promise.” That was all he needed to hear, his heart ached for his little girl who was crying softly more shocked than hurt.

“It's alright baby we're gonna get you safety and then dadas gonna come get mommy and we’ll all go home cuddle.” He said as he pulled the baby from her car seat, recognizing ‘home’ and ‘cuddle’ she clapped at him. He planted gross, wet kisses all over her face before dashing to the place where he saw all the flashing lights congregating. It was a pretty big pile up so there were a lot of ambulances. He took the first one open.

“This is Bakugou Kaori, she’s eleven months and has no allergies to anything or any medication. I'll be coming back with Bakugou y/n who has a pretty deep gash in their abdomen and isn't allergic to any medication either.” He said as the EMT took his baby from him. He almost didn't want to leave her but he knew you were waiting on him, so he dashed back to your totaled car where he saw people crowding your figure as they had just pulled you out.

“Y/N!” He said dropping to the ground taking you from the girl who was holding you.

“Come on, you're bleeding a lot we’ve got to get you to the ambulance.” He said tears cascading from his eyes as he tried to lift you while simultaneously slowing your bleeding but as he lifted you not only did you scream, blood rushed out of your gash at a very alarming rate.

“We can't lift them, they're losing too much blood, the ambulance got to come down here….They’ll die if we take them down there.” Someone said as Katsuki placed you back on the ground. He wanted to yell at them and tell them they were wrong but he knew they weren't. As well as he knew the ambulance wouldn't fit down here, it was hard for him to fit through the cracks of the cars. He had to try though for you, for Kaori, and for himself.

“You're all hurt, go get to an ambulance and get some help, idiots.... And please, I'm begging you, make one of them come down here.” The group of people nodded as they raced for the ambulances.

“Told you I’d wait on you, Kat.”

“Yeah, you did such a good job, baby! You are so strong, love. They went to get help, everything's gonna be alright.” He whispered to you clutching your body closer to him.

“Who are you trying to convince me or you.” You laughed coughing up blood.

“Stop laughing, dumbass this isn't funny.” He gritted his teeth at you.

“Alright then stuffy, onto the serious business. I want Kaori to grow up knowing what love is, so tell her all our cheesy stories. I want her to grow up knowing she is so loved by you so tell her everyday from me and you that you love her more than anything. I want her to know she can come to you for anything so don't be such a hardass to her when she starts to rebel a little…. I don't want her to forget my face or my voice too much, so as much as it might hurt at first show her all the pictures and videos we took over the years. And when she's old enough to understand what happened tonight tell her she doesn't need to go to my grave if she ever wants to talk to me, I'm always watching over you both, promise.” You paused to throw up some more blood. “And now for you my love, I won't say anything to cliché. Like ‘i want you to find love’ cause we both know I am the jealous type but if it happens don't worry I'm not turning over in my grave. I want you to keep following that dream of yours if anyone can be the Top hero and a single dad it’s you, Kat. I want you to indulge yourself and eat takeout sometimes that stuffy diet of yours isn't fun. Be sad for as long as you need but just don't hold it all inside and try to continue on like everything is fine. It's okay to cry, to need a break or some help or both really. Lastly, Bakugou Katsuki, I love you and I am so sorry we didn't get that always and forever we wanted.” You said using the last of your strength to caress his cheek. He sobbed as he grasped your hand and held it tighter to his cheek.

“I love y-” he tried to say but stopped as he realized you were already gone. You didn't get to hear it back from him… the scream that ripped from him was pure anguish in its finest form. He should've been quicker to say it. He should have said it more often. He just should have. And now he was begging his head to stop playing these flashbacks to stop driving the knife further into his heart, he had a daughter he was trying to live for. He just wanted it to stop.

“DADA DADA”

Just like that he was drawn from his head. He looked around to see his friends and family staring at him in concern and his daughter at his feet with fat tears rolling down her face. He quickly picked her up, cursing at himself as he probably just scared her.

“What are you crying for you, little brat?” He started but paused as fat tears of his own rolled down his sunken cheeks “Everything's gonna be alright soon, so we shouldn't cry for too long okay, Brat.” He said as he hugged Kaori tighter than he should have. Somewhere in his mind he did believe it. That he and his daughter would be okay but for right now he was trying to stay afloat in the waves of suffocating flashbacks.

[heavymetalover]

Call Me Daddy (Michael Langdon x fem reader)

{i imagined scruffy sojourn michael w this one but i left the description kind of open so yall can imagine whichever teehee}

Summary: Michael is about to become your step dad and the two of you have an unusual relationship…

Warnings: DADDY KINK DUH, smut, dirty talk, fingering, vaginal sex, dom!michael, hickies, rough sex.

WC: 5.5k

A/N: ive done the unforgiven… omg.

this is a different format from my other stuff. i didnt see anyone doing this and yall know me and my daddy issues I HAD TO. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE anon me, message me, whatever, if you want more parts cuz im down.

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 You had an average run-of-the-mill life with your mom. The two of you lived in a sizable suburban Los Angeles estate; your mom worked for most of her waking hours to keep you comfortable and you worked your ass off to stay in your top college. You had a few friends that would pop into your life when your mom left town, a few boyfriends here and there, even your mom dated around. Everything felt normal until Michael came into the picture.

Your mom has been dating Michael for a few months now, but every time he’s around he brings an eerie feeling along with him. Despite being nearly half her age, he has the soul of somebody from the eighteen hundreds. The way he composes himself, how he speaks with the utmost confidence and how his stares linger too long; his glacial blue eyes always watch you like he can see right through your clothes. 

You’ve been skeptical of him since the day you met him. When you shook his hand and accidentally removed one of his large rings, he nonchalantly told you to keep it. You decided to sell the huge diamond-encrusted Cartier ring and use the twenty thousand dollars to help pay for college.

Since then you’ve avoided the two of them in protest of their relationship. You knew it was juvenile to evade them, but the man turned you on more than you’d like to admit. His soft-waved blonde hair, fluffy lips, jawline for days, prominent cheekbones, and how can you forget the eyes… Everything about him looked planned, like he was designed to be flawless.

On a mundane weekend morning, your mom calls you from downstairs. “Y/n!” her voice echoes through the halls.

You stop reading your favourite book and take out an earbud. “Yeah?!” you yell back, looking up from the pages for a moment and waiting for her to say something else, but the house is silent. You pretend to ignore her call and go back to the story.

“Y/n!” your mom yells again.

You sigh and drop your book, rolling off of your bed and skipping down the stairs to see what fresh hell awaits. As you approach your mom, who’s opening her mouth to call you again, you smell something unusual. Something you haven’t smelt since your dad left. Cologne.

“Honey, he’s here,” your mom whispers to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. You try turning away to run back to your room, but your mom stops you. “Can you be nice for once, please?” she begs, squeezing your shoulder.

“Whatever, let’s get this over with,” you groan and shimmy her hand off of your shoulder.  

Michael works at the dining table, setting up three plates and utensils. You’re planted to the ground in awe, you’ve never had to eat dinner with the two of them before. It crosses your mind that they must be confronting you about bypassing them these past few months, your fight or flight response is already kicking in.

Michael looks up at you, finally acknowledging you and capturing you in his ocean blue eyes with a nanosecond of contact. Your mom moves in between the two of you and takes some food out of a paper bag. “Michael and I wanted all of us to eat dinner together,” she skips to stand beside him. You widen your eyes at her and cross your arms in objection. She widens her eyes back, you can practically hear her nagging you to be polite.

Michael puts his arm around your mom. “Your mother and I thought it best for us to… start acting like a family,” he says.

Your eyebrows shoot up and you can’t hold back your smile. “A family?” you laugh. You purse your lips and start walking backwards, aching to escape Michael’s spell. “Mmm, I think I’ll pass,” you turn around to start walking away.

“Y/n,” your mom snaps. You stop in the middle of a step and twist back towards them, taking small, reluctant steps to approach their little function. “We have something to tell you,” she says and immediately after, vaults her hand out to you.

You take it hesitantly and look at her, still trying to figure them out and failing. “What?” you ask.

“No, honey, look at it,” she rolls her eyes, “look at my hand.”

You gawk at her hand, her third finger is dressed in a huge diamond ring. It looks big enough to pay off your whole house. You unintentionally let out a dramatic gasp and drop her hand, she continues to hold it up for you. “It’s the bloodiest diamond he could find in the LA area,” she explains, “We’re in love.” She smiles and places her hand on Michael’s chest, looking up at him with hearts in her eyes. He gifts a small kiss on her lips.

You scoff and shake your head. Any tension that you felt from Michael has dissolved. He’s been dating your mom for five months, five fucking months. Who does he think he is? Are they both nuts? “You’re joking, right?” you ask, completely stunned by how brash the whole situation is. “Are you guys pranking me?”

Michael grins at you, it makes you melt and you hate yourself for it. “Call me daddy,” he sneers.

----

It’s a quaint Wednesday evening when you decide to take a break from studying and grab a snack. You’re scrolling through Tumblr when you walk out of your room and smash your face against a sturdy chest. “Jesus!” you gasp, looking up at Michael standing in front of your door; one of his hands is in a fist, ready to knock on your door, while the other is behind his back. “You scared the shit out of me!” You playfully push his chest away from you, trying to shake off the sudden rush of adrenaline.

He drops his fist as he stumbles back slightly. It’s the first time you’ve talked to him since they announced their engagement. Michael moved in about a month ago and it’s been hard to ignore him since he sits, day in day out, typing away on his laptop in your living room.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “But I have to admit it’s nice to hear your voice again.”

You lean against your doorframe, trying to act casual as if he hadn’t just knocked the wind out of you completely. “Did my mom come home from work or something? She send you here?” you ask, declining his attempts to meet your eyes, instead you stare at his lapel.

“No, I got you something,” he explains, wiggling the surprise behind his back.

“Another Cartier ring?” you joke. “Oh, or is it a new girlfriend? Because that would be even better.” His eyes find the ceiling in annoyance and it feels rewarding, you were starting to think he couldn’t be cracked. “Did you get me an apartment, so I don’t have to live with another failed marriage?”

“No,” he snaps back, starting to sound impatient with your infantile attitude. You straighten up at his belligerent tone. He slides into your room, keeping the gift hidden behind his back. “It’s thoughtful, something I know you’d like, but… if you’re hellbent on loathing my existence, why should I be so kind?” he asks. He somehow manages to speak reserved, yet impossibly intimidating. Every word that leaves his lips demands to be heard, it sends chills down your spine. “Right?” he prompts.

You take in a breath. “Right,” you force yourself to agree, mostly because you’re curious to see what the present is. Another part of you is getting bored of acting like a hermit and going days without social interaction. “Obviously it feels weird; I barely know you and you’re becoming my dad and you moved in, everything just seems so fast,” you explain yourself. You saunter back into your room to meet him. “I’ve been a bitch. I’m sorry, Michael. Seriously.”

He takes a step closer to you, you’re only inches apart. You can feel the heat radiating from his body and fight the urge to wrap your arms around him. “We’ll work on ‘Michael’ later,” he replies. You’re about to question what he means by that when he takes the present out from behind his back. He holds a black bag in between the two of you and you immediately recognize the store. “I heard you on the phone with your friend about something red, lacey, with a bow. I think I found it…”

You take the Victoria’s Secret bag from him without saying a word. You have no words to say. You don’t know if you should thank him or refuse the gift or slap him for listening to your personal conversations. Your mind races wondering if you’d gossiped about his good looks on the phone with your friend.

You silently pry open the bag and paw through the lingerie, mountains of cute panties and bras, digging through things you were never able to afford but always wanted. And, of course, Michael bought the red, lacey one piece you were talking about with your friend. There’s a stillness in the room as you look through the bag. “You bought all of this for me?”

“Yeah, I can’t see how your mom would fit into any of those.”

All of the pieces are just your size, it’s the perfect gift… just not from your stepdad. “How did you even know my size?” you stop looking at the bag and make the mistake of falling into his eyes.

“I went through your clothes,” he carelessly shrugs.

You drop the present by your side. “You went through my clothes, like, my lingerie?”

He slowly nods his head, acting as if it isn’t strange for him to invade your privacy how he did. You huff and he begins looking agitated with you again. “Would you like if I returned all this stuff? I thought you’d like it.”

“I do,” you mutter and kick the bag away from him, you’re not jeopardizing this gift with your uncontrollable sass.

“Good,” he spits back.

“Just… don’t think you can just buy yourself into the family,” you mock. You catch yourself subconsciously crossing your arms over your chest to give yourself a breast lift, but you don’t stop.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smirks. He looks down at your cleavage and it feels like all the air is sucked out of the room. “You have quite the collection of lingerie you keep hidden at the bottom of your drawers,” he observes, “like a dirty guilty pleasure.” You peer up at him, again trying to read him, and again failing. He uses one of his fingers to hook onto the thin fabric of your shirt, your tits are practically pouring out and begging to be the center of attention. He tugs at the fabric, looking under your shirt and inspecting your boobs suffocated in one of your intimate Victoria’s Secret pickups. “Kitten’s all dressed up?” he whispers, his fingertips graze the embroidered details.

You bite your lip, anticipating the second he’ll rip the bra off your chest. “It’s all for you,” you tease, pushing your tits together even more, “I’m always dressed up for you, Michael.”

He breathes in, groaning under his breath. “I thought I told you,” his voice is low and intimidating, “call me daddy.”

You’re drinking in a breath of his cologne, shifting onto the tips of your toes to give his soft lips a rugged kiss, when the sound of keys rattling downstairs takes you out of it. Michael still stares at you, his fingers continue to linger over your clothed tits. “Michael!” your mom calls from downstairs.

You look up at him with fear in your puppy dog eyes and Michael grins. He shoots you one last, knowing, glance before leaving your room. He leaves you without saying two words. “Yeah, babe,” he answers your mom, closing your bedroom door behind him.

What the fuck just happened?

----

Holding back your gags, you grasp your friend’s hair as she projectile vomits peach schnapps into an expensive toilet bowl. Her phone rings in her pocket and you huff, digging through the pockets of the leather jacket you lent her and pulling out a vibrating iPhone. You pick up the phone with an ill “hello”, answering too late and looking down at the screen. She must’ve ordered an Uber a while ago, there’s a ton of notifications that the driver’s outside. “Oh shit,” you mutter under your breath. “Your ride is here!” you yell at her, trying to pull her onto her feet.

“What?!” she yells into the toilet bowl.

You roll your eyes and lean down beside her ear, “I said, your ride is here!” you yell over the thumping music.

Your friend stumbles around, trying to stand up in her six-inch heels. You pull her onto you and her head rests on your shoulder, she goes limp against you. “Stop, come on!” you shout over the music. “You have to g-”

You’re cut off by your friend puking onto an expensive mini dress you bought for tonight’s party. This shindig was supposed to be a fun little escape from your school life, your home life, Michael, all your stress. You expected to make new friends, meet hot guys, but instead you came an hour late and have been nursing your friend the whole night. You’re seriously going to kick her ass tomorrow.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, her breath reeking of throw up.

You toss her arm over your shoulder and start walking her out of the bathroom. “I’m going to kill you tomorrow, you know that?” you say in her ear and she lets out a small, apologetic whimper.

A cute guy who was talking you up earlier approaches the two of you. He holds two red cups in his hands and shrugs when he sees you. “What the fuck, y/n? You disappeared on me!” he talks to you over the bass-y music. “I got our drinks!” he shakes the cups in his hands and hands one over to you, as if completely ignoring your drunken friend hanging off of your side.

Your friend staggers, nearly bringing you down with her. The cute guy helps you pick her back up and you sigh, annoyed at how much of a disaster your night has turned into. He knits his eyebrows at your sour attitude, then finding the vomit on your dress, he looks back up at you. You see his doe eyes grow apologetic when he mouths a weak “sorry” to you, stepping out of your way. You shake your head as if telling him it’s fine; you just wish you had more time to get to know him.

You continue dragging your friend along your side and hear someone call out your name from behind you. You whip your head around; your hair irritatingly sticks to your lip-gloss. “Hope to see you again!” he calls after you. You nod in his direction and resume walking your friend, who is nearly passed out on your shoulder, to the front door. When you walk out of the house, you’re assaulted with the smell of salt water. Despite this night turning into one of the most frustrating nights of your life, at least you got to visit a Malibu beach house.

A big, black SUV is parked outside of the house and you rush her to the door. Opening the backseat and stuffing her inside the seats in the back. “The app says where you’re taking her, right?” you ask the Uber driver, your voice sounds muted from being struck by loud music all night.

He nods and reads out her address. “Y/n,” your friend slurs, gripping onto your arm with all her strength, “you’re a really nice… you’re a… you’re a really good friend, you know that? Like, seriously,” she pauses to hiccup, “thank you for taking care of me tonight.” Her words are so slurred that it’s nearly impossible to make out her compliment, but you just nod in hopes it’ll get her to let go. She drops your arm and hands you your pricey leather jacket, bunched up in a ball, before shutting the van door.

You throw on your jacket, protecting yourself from the ocean’s breeze, and watch the van drive away when you notice a familiar car parked across the street. The SUV blocked a four-seater Maserati parked on the other side of the road. Michael’s sedentary in the driver’s seat with a cigarette hanging from his lips. You balance yourself on your ridiculously tall heels and stomp over to his car. He doesn’t even see you coming, he’s leaned back in the driver’s seat reading a book.

You crouch down and knock on the glass of his window. His eyes meet yours for a second and he slowly rolls down the window. A mob of cigarette smoke escapes the car and he chucks the stick onto the pavement. You’re both quiet for a few moments, the crashing ocean waves fills up the silence.  “How did you know I was here?” you ask.

He finally puts down his book and looks at you. “Just trying to be a good dad,” he responds.

“Ugh, ew,” you groan. “You’re my step dad.”

He adjusts his seat to start driving, his eyes looking you up and down as he does. “Looks like your night went a little… rough,” he jokes and nods towards the puke on your dress. “You need a ride?”

You look back at the party. As much as you wanted to live up the night, you’re already in too much of a bad mood to go back in there. It doesn’t help that your new dress is covered in puke, too. You turn back around to Michael, he awaits your answer with a cocked brow. “You can’t tell mom,” you sigh, walking around the car to get into the passenger’s seat. The luxury car’s butterfly doors obnoxiously open up for your entry. “Not a word,” you assure him as you slide into the leather seat.

He starts up the car and one of his Led Zeppelin albums begins to play. “I picked you up at the library,” he quips.

He starts driving along the empty coast and you decide to skip the seatbelt, you don’t want to dirty his car with your friend’s retch. His eyes glance over to your seat for a moment, he notices you second guessing the seatbelt and puts a hand on your thigh. You look up at him and intuitively try to tempt him, biting your bottom lip and batting your lashes. “I’ll protect you if we crash,” he whispers, his fingers lightly caress your thighs.

You put your hand on his and slide him further up your leg. He keeps one hand on the wheel, eyes on the road, but when his eyes do meet yours, it makes all the nerves in your core feel like a wave pool. Your dress is short enough for him to reach your panties without any hassle. Your hand is on his when his fingers begin to rub your pussy, still dressed in a pair of panties he bought you. “Baby’s already wet for daddy,” he says under his breath, kneading your clit in small circles.

You feel your stomach erupt with butterflies, you’ve never felt a nervousness so intense before. A rush of thoughts suddenly violates your mind, you try to shut them up but they keep coming. This is wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this. You’re disgusting for enjoying this. His fingers have been in your mom before.

You dig your nails into his skin and pull his hand away from you; bending over in your seat and clutching onto your stomach. You only had one drink tonight, you shouldn’t be feeling this sick.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, “are you okay?”

“I think I need air,” you grumble through the sudden sickness. “Can you pull over?”

Michael only takes a minute to find an empty parking lot on the beach and pull into it. You get out of the car without saying a word to him and take off your heels, throwing them into the backseat of his car. You’re already starting to feel your anxiety subside as you shuffle through the cool sand and pace towards the erratic waves crashing on shore. This is one of the reasons you loved LA, the tons of tiny, empty beaches. The ocean at night, and how it constantly smelt like salt water, how it relaxed you.

The breeze blew through your hair, a part of you felt like running into the crashing waves, but a voice took you out of it. “Y/n!” Michael called behind you, over the sound of the whistling wind. He trudges in the sand to get to you; you faintly snicker at his dedication. “Are you okay?” he asks once he’s closer to you.

When you see him, face glowing in the moon light, golden locks blowing in the ocean breeze, face twisted with concern, it all settles. Everything feels like it’s in the right place. Your stomach, although still turning with butterflies, no longer feels sick.

There’s a pause between the two of you; both of you deciding to admire each other instead of the beautiful ocean view beside you. Then, it feels like everything clicks. Like the two of you mentally communicate your longing for each other, your desire. Both shutting your eyes and diving in for a kiss at the same time.

His lips smash against yours, sucking your face, and his tongue quickly invades your mouth. He kisses you like he’s craved your lips for years, passionately cleaning up your mouth with his eager tongue.

Michael works your jacket off of your shoulders and you shimmy it to the ground. He unzips your dress, the zip running along your naked back sends a shiver crawling down your spine. He abandons your lips for a moment to pull down your dress, exposing your bare chest and expensive panties. You’re too lost in lust to even realize you’re half naked on a public beach.

You’re both panting and releasing all of the built-up sexual tension. He stands back up and kisses you again, his hands cup your ass and he gives an echoed smack; his fingers creep down your legs. He grabs onto the back of your thighs and hoists you up, you lightly yelp into his mouth and wrap your legs around him. His large hands hold you up and he leans down, resting you onto the jacket you’ve thrown onto the sand.

Once you’re laid down, he begins rubbing your pussy again. His cold rings adding a different sense of pleasure as he rubs you into entropy. He slides your feeble panties to the side and spits down on your cunt, shoving his finger inside you. You moan at the sudden intrusion, taking in a breath of the salt-scented air. “That’s it, baby girl,” he whispers, adding in another finger, “I want to hear you moan for daddy.”

You take in a breath and whimper as he curves his fingers inside of you, slowly pulsing against your g-spot. He touches you as if he already knows which parts make you crumble. “Ooh yeah, daddy,” you cry and grind on his fingers, pushing him deeper inside you, “right there.”

“You’re my dirty little slut, huh?” he asks, gliding in another finger. Your eyes roll back in pleasure. “Little girl likes to get fucked by her daddy?” He adds another finger, completely stretching you out. Your breath gets caught in your throat and you can’t reply. “I asked you a question.”

You meet his cold eyes for a second, before you throw your head back in pleasure. “Yes!” you breathe out, feeling the heat rise in your body. Your sensitive cunt throbs under his gluttonous fingers, persistently fucking you and begging for more. “Yes, oh, keep fucking me just like that, daddy!”

His fingers find a rhythm inside of you, constantly bringing you to the brink of climax and slowing down. “Such a dirty little girl,” he teases and spits on your soaking cunt. He pulls out his fingers and holds them to your lips. You grab his hand and suck on his long fingers, tasting the cool metal rings mixed with the sweet taste of your pussy.

You sit up and lock your lips with his again. Both, you and Michael, unbutton his shirt; you want to feel his flesh against yours as soon as possible. When you get to the bottom, you slide your hands up his body and square the shirt off of his shoulders. His perfect, porcelain skin shines in the moonlight. You want to appreciate it for a moment, but he’s already unbuckling his belt.

He’s propped on his knees, unzipping his black pants and bringing them down to pull his erection out of his briefs. It springs out when you start grabbing for it, he moves back and clicks his tongue. “My greedy little girl,” he mocks, “you don’t get a taste until daddy says you do.”

He pushes you down with one of his hands. His touch is so delicate, yet so commanding. Everything he does is done with conviction and a power that only you could dream of, he is inherently dominant over you. He strokes his long, girthy length over you, you’re practically drooling at the sight. He spits on himself and rubs it into the head. “Spit on it,” he orders.

You sit up and weakly spit on the tip of his cock; it’s too late when you notice your mouth is dry from nervousness. He shakes his head. “You’re so pathetic, you can’t even spit on me right,” he sneers, divorced from the nasty words leaving his lips. He presses his dick against your folds and your fingers curl into your jacket, awaiting the moment he plunges into you. “Say the word, baby girl, say you want me,” he’s lingering at your entrance.

“Please,” you whine, your pussy is beating against his hard cock, “please dad.”

He pushes his head inside you and you grab his arms for support, digging your nails into his skin. He’s so thick, you’ve never felt something so large obtruding your tight cunt. He moves in slowly, reading your stunned facial expressions to see if he should continue stuffing himself inside of you. You let out tiny weeps as he digs deeper into your hole, but you can’t manage much more.

Michael thrusts himself into you until he’s balls deep, even he can’t help but groan. “My little girl is so fucking tight,” he grunts under his breath. He starts to hammer himself into you, going so deep that you feel like pushing him back, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. His cock is so thick that it hits every nerve you could imagine; it’s hard to gather a single word.

He lets out a small chuckle at your reticence. “My innocent baby’s never felt a real cock before, huh?” he taunts, still pounding his length into you. You open your mouth to speak, but settle on shaking your head. One distinct tear runs down the side of your face while stifled cries pass your trembling lips with each time his balls smack into your ass. “You’re taking me like a good fucking girl,” he admires, “my good little slut.”

He lifts up your leg and rests your foot on his shoulder. You’re twisted onto your side, trying to look over your shoulder to see how vigorously he pounds into your cunt. Michael’s new positioning hits exactly in your g-spot, you feel your leg shaking under his grip. “H-holy shit,” your voice trembles, you let out a built-up breath. “Keep going, daddy! Right there, right there, I’m so close,” you’re begging, voice is flooded with desperation. You don’t care how childish you sound, you want nothing more than to come all over Michael’s big dick. “Don’t move, please, please,” you grab onto his arm again.

Tears overflow your eyes when you look into his. Just seeing his determined light blue eyes peering back at you makes you unravel even more. He has no remorse for how weak he’s making you, how vulnerable you’ve become, his unmistakable dominion turns you on.

He listens to your wails, finally granting you the satisfaction you’ve been begging for and plows into your g-spot. Your grip on him gets tighter as he thrusts harder, you’re almost certain he’s going to leave some swelling deep inside your cunt. “Your dick is so, fucking, good,” you breathe in between thrusts.

Michael doesn’t give up, keeping up the same pace and fucking you exactly how you want him to. You’re about to praise his long cock some more when you’re thrown into climax. You try looking back up at him, but you can’t say a word; your mouth hangs wide open with nothing but small chokes croaking out. He can see how dazed he’s made you and shoves your face into the ground, pushing your nose against the leather of your jacket. “You’re going to take daddy’s cock like a good little girl,” he seethes, suffocating your head into your jacket. “Don’t come,” he demands.

He continues punching your g-spot with his huge cock, you feel your pussy spasming under his rough thrusts. He holds both of your arms back, shifting you into doggy-style. His balls slap against your sore clit and you feel yourself starting to ejaculate. “Fuck!” you scream into the breeze of the empty beach. Your cunt twitches and gushes its balmy juices all over Michael’s hard cock.

He slows down his pace and pulls your arms up towards him, you feel his heaving chest against your back. “What did I just fucking say?” he fumes, tugging your arms even closer to him. “Answer me.”

“You told me not to come,” you answer in a syrupy, naïve voice.

He grabs both of your tits to push you flush against him, maintaining his rough thrusts into your cunt. “That’s right,” he whispers in your ear, “baby didn’t fucking listen.” He smacks your tits with both of his hands, striking you hard. You jump at how ruthless he hits you, it makes your stomach flutter again. His full lips lug along your neck. “Remember who you belong to,” he speaks into your neck, sending an iciness throughout your entire body.

Michael digs his teeth into your skin, sucking up your flesh while he continues massaging your breasts, pinching at the hard peaks your nipples have formed. He sucks so hard it stings, you wonder how that would feel on your pussy. His love bite begins to hurt and you shift your head away from him, he snickers. “Who do you belong to?” he whispers, lips chafing the shell of your ear.

He pinches your nipples even harder and you sob in pleasure. “Mmm, you,” you respond, looking over your shoulder to give his lips a frail kiss. “I belong to you, daddy.”

He takes in a deep breath as if shaking off your spell and regaining his confidence. He pushes you onto the ground again and goes back to fucking you like a ragdoll. “You better remember that,” he breathes, mercilessly pummeling himself into you again.

He holds both of your arms back once more, driving himself into you so hard that you’re concerned about cervix bruising. His pace slows down a bit and you look back at him, his mouth drapes open and he stares down at the back of your head. He pushes you away as he orgasms, savagely shoving your face back into the ground, as you feel his warm seed spilling inside your wet cunt. Michael groans from deep within his chest, letting out a long sigh when he’s done. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, “fuck, you sexy bitch.”

You let out a little giggle at this and he joins. He hauls himself out of you and you feel all of your muscles relax. You shift onto your back, looking up at Michael in disbelief. You’re too caught up in euphoria to comprehend what just happened. All you can think of in this moment is how fucking good he was. Even Michael has a dumbfounded look on his face.

He shakes his head and liberates a nervous laugh, “We’re so fucked up.”

You can say that again.

[cherrysha]

May I please ask for a meleoron x female reader?

Girl this took on a life of its own kjfajfda but here ya go

A/N: My rules have been updated since writing this and I DO NOT answer requests from ageless blogs. (Also my writing style has definitely changed, but I still think this is worth posting again)

Summary: Meleoron heads back to NGL in hopes to recover some of his memories. What he finds instead is something unexpected.

Word Count: 2.5k

My requests are open atm

Warnings: Some angst even tho i said id give yall sum fluff i guess i lied

 “I wish you wouldn’t go out there y/n.” and it’s followed by the same speech she gives you every time. What will people think about you? You always come back so filthy, like a little boy playing in the dirt for the first time. Do you want the miller’s son to see you as a little boy?

“Mom” you sigh, offering her a sideways glance “I’m just collecting berries”

Before you can even get the excuse out she’s shaking her head in disbelief “Don’t use that line y/n. you don’t need to be out all day to harvest berries. And you never come back with that many anyway.” she grumbles as you pinch the bridge of your nose. Leaning yourself against the door frame you try to stave off the headache she was giving you. “It’s because I eat them all before I can get back.”

She gives an exasperated wave of her hands, clearly saving it for another day. It was obvious that she was already exhausted with you.

“Just be back before it gets dark” she turns, focusing her attention back on the patch being sewn into one of her dresses.

You finally escape before she can continue the argument.

-

It started as a means escape the noise of the village. There was always people out, shouting about god knows what as they hurried about their days. Sometimes it was just overwhelming. 

Surprisingly, you had found this spot while hunting for berries. A tree stood a little off the muddy path you took with a stream located in front of it. The sound of running water was soothing, and the area provided excellent shade from the scorching heat that made clothing stick to you like glue. Naturally, you started reading there, and writing, and knitting. It was easier to focus in a place so calm.

But a few weeks ago you’d noticed it. Hairs prickling on the back of your neck, a brush rustling on it’s own here and there, sometimes you could even smell the lingering scent of cigarette smoke. As days passed, you came to the conclusion that someone was watching you.

If you were being honest, Their presence wasn’t altogether unpleasant, so you usually paid it no mind. Boys in the village were always like this. Too afraid to make the first move so they just watched from a distance until you noticed them. Quite frankly, it was embarrassing to deal with. The thought alone was enough to make you cringe away from the situation. 

Today when you heard the telltale rustle of a bush across the creek, you finally gathered enough energy to speak up.

“You know” you say blindly to the air around you, hoping the feeling in your gut was more than just a hunch.

“You don’t have to hide every time I come out here.”

It’s quiet for a moment before he replies.

“Maybe that’s not for you to decide.”

You let out a humph, furrowing your brow in frustration. That response wasn’t what you were expecting at all. Boys in the village were usually so quick to make excuses as to why they were following you.

“And why not?”

“Maybe I don’t want to be seen.”

“Fine.” You relent. “But then why do you keep following me around?”

It’s quiet as he thinks on the question he has no answer for.

“Well,” you interrupt “if you’re gunna be out here watching me can we at least have a conversation?”

He lets out a noise as if it’s something he has to give much thought to.

“I’ll think about it.”

You weren’t expecting that either.

-

Weeks pass as you lose track of time in the summer sun. You make your way there every day and every day he’s waiting for you. So secretive, it took almost a week of constant nagging to learn his name, even when you had offered yours up easily. Meleoron. You didn’t ask, but you’d figured he was an outsider. There wasn’t anyone with a name like that in the village.

“You gunna come out of hiding today Mel?” you call out

He makes his presence known with an audible sigh leaving his parted lips.

“Guess it’s about time I come clean” he says, watching as confusion blooms on your face.

“I’m not actually in the bushes.”

You look around, he sounded close but you still couldn’t figure out where he was exactly. “Where are you then? up in a tree or something?”

And he can’t help but to laugh, shaking his head at you. Sometimes he just couldn’t figure out how you managed to make every situation enjoyable. No matter the atmosphere or tension floating in the air.

“No ... no I’m right in front of you. You just can’t see me.”

He steps closer, unbeknownst to you, and taps the middle of your forehead with a finger.

“Jeez!” you gasp, taking a step back. 

it’s quiet for a moment while you try to process the situation at hand. It didn’t quite make sense, but nothing about this made sense. An invisible man you met with every day who watched you read and kept you company. No, it didn’t make much sense, but did it have to? As long as you were having fun what did it matter?

‘Are you always invisible?” you ask the open air in front of you.

You hear a shuffle and then watch in awe as his feet displace water in the stream.

“Nah” he says nonchalantly “It’s kind of like a switch. I can turn it on and off when I want.”

“Well then why don’t you turn it off so I can see who’s been stalking me for weeks?”

“Stalking?!”

He’s clearly embarrassed by your choice of words but you pay it no mind, moving to sit on the bank next to him. You stick your feet in beside his and lean towards his voice, aiming to nudge against his shoulder and succeeding. 

“What else would you call it Mel?”

He huffs in irritation, using his tail to splash water on your face. The coolness of it wrenches a squeal from your throat as Meleoron laughs at your expense.

“Don’t make it sound like that”

-

 A few weeks later your meetings have become routine. You leave earlier than your mother wakes, avoiding the confrontation you knew was near, and return home every night exhausted, day spent laughing and bickering with your imaginary friend.

Some days you would come home only to eat, sneaking out after everyone was fast asleep. On those days you’d lay next to Mel in a clearing near the creek and teach him the names of all the constellations you know. Centaurus, Ursa Major, Draco. There’s not enough time in the night to teach them all, you tell yourself as you sneak out for the third night in a row. In the morning you’d climb back through your open window and make breakfast before heading out again, making sure to leave a little mess so your mother wouldn’t grow suspicious. After, you’d go to your spot by the creek and he’d always be there. And every time you came back he’d moan about how long you’d been gone.

“You know how boring it is out here? What if I left you in the forest? You wouldn’t like that, huh?” you’d bicker back and forth before falling asleep under the same tree you’d met him at. After a while you even let him hold you. After a while, you started yearning for his warm body next to yours. After a while, he started to yearn for your warmth as well.

You never experienced this type of feeling before. Not with the boy who walked you home every day in school, not with the miller’s son who kissed you in the cornfields, or even the farmer who held you too tight and left hickies on your neck. No, you realized that this was something different. Something indiscriminate without the binding of your soul to match his. Nothing to lace up and look pretty, he wasn’t interested in that. But to be fair, you weren’t quite sure exactly what he was interested in. Was it just your company he was after? Or did he feel the same way you did. The answer was as big of a mystery as he was.

-

“Do you think you could love me?” You whisper to him one night.

The stars are out and you’re lying on what you assume to be his chest. You can feel the movement of his deep breaths, his heart thumping loudly.

“I-I don’t think ... it’s not that simple y/n.”

You feel your throat squeeze tight, lodging the sadness deep within your chest. That’s the answer you were expecting but the sting of it didn’t hurt any less.

“I get it.” You sigh, letting yourself close your eyes to stave off the moisture gathering in them. If you moved from his chest, he would be able to see the emotion you were trying so hard to hold back written clear as day on your face. So you stayed. The last thing you wanted was his pity.

“No, it’s not y- “

“It’s not you it’s me.” You laugh and finally move away. If he kept talking you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep the tears from brimming over and exposing you. It was best to get up while the emotion was still trapped within your chest.

It’s barely audible, but he can still hear it nonetheless “Can’t say I haven’t heard that before”

You reach the creek and dip your feet into the cool water, willing your mind to focus on the current flowing around you.

“Mom says I’m too wild... says I need to spend my time in the village. Being in the woods is very unbecoming of a lady.” And you can’t help the chuckle that leaves your throat. Maybe this man you only ever met in the forest was the same way. You were just some silly wild girl that could serve as a distraction until he grew bored.

“I guess she’s right.”

“I think that came out wrong” He’s scratching his head in thought, but you can’t see that.

“I ... I still want to be near you, but I just can’t- “

“Show yourself. Right.”

He comes over, seating himself next to you as you watch the current move around his legs.

“I just need some time. Can you give that to me y/n?”

He says it as if you hadn’t spent the past few months in each others company and the idea that it was meaningless to him makes the knot in your throat just a little bit tighter. He pulls you close and you can feel his breath fan across your face. He was always just so so close. So out of reach. And you loved him all the same.

“I can do that.” You relent. A beat passes before the emotion clears from your voice and you find your fire again.

“But if someone asks me out I’m giving them a chance! Don’t think I’m giving in so easily!”

“Yah! I get it!” He scoffs, splashing water in your direction.

He can see it clear as day even in the dark. You weren’t over it, but you were trying for him. All that mattered was that he had more time with you before this blew up in his face.

Leaning back, you let out a sigh. Maybe you asked too soon, maybe he didn’t like you at all. Maybe, maybe, maybe. You couldn’t let doubt ruin your night before it even began. Standing up, you left those thoughts behind and waded deeper into the clear water.

“The stones in the middle are the smoothest since the current is strongest there.” you dip your hand in and pull one out.

“They’re the best for skipping.”

He scoffs, “You wanna skip stones right now?”

Hands come to your hips as you level a glare in the direction of his voice.

“Yeah? And what about it?”

You can’t see it, but you know it’s there, the smile he keeps just for you.

“Don’t you think it’s a little too dark to be skipping stones? How can you even see where it hits the water?”

It gets quiet for a moment, arms dropping to your side as you lower your gaze to the rock in your hand.

“I know better than anyone that seeing it doesn’t matter.”

He gets up and slowly approaches to stand behind you, arms wrapping around your body as he pulls you close.

“Ah...then what does matter?” He whispers into the skin of your neck.

“What you hear... What you feel in the moment when it slides of out your hand. You don’t have to see it to know how many times it’s skipped.”

You look down, wishing desperately that you could see his arms around you, but knowing better than to get upset again.

“You don’t want to wait until morning?” He says softly.

With a shake of your head you reply

“No, it’s important to have fun while you can... Seeing it is nice and all but I can always do that later. There’s no need to deny myself the fun of it now.”

He presses a soft kiss to the back of your head, laying his own against it.

“I’m glad you understand.”

You both stay like that for quite some time. His arms around you and head resting against yours as you stare at the moon in front. It’s peaceful for a moment, and you let yourself bask in it. Maybe you did let fear get the best of you, but right now he was something tangible. You could feel his weight against you, hear the steady breaths he took, and you could hold tight against the arm around your waist. This could be enough.

The moment passes and you finally decide to enjoy your night, keeping your doubt pushed to the furthest corner of your mind.

“Hey!” You bark, startling the man behind you.

“You keep distracting me!” He can’t help but laugh. With little effort you were able to lift his spirits again.

He tightens his grip on you and, in one smooth motion, hoists you over his shoulder.

“Okay princess,” he laughs “let’s go find you some still water to throw your little stones then, huh?”

With a smile you wrap your arms around his body.

“Yeah and stop distracting me while you’re at it. I have important business to do!”

“Important business?” He scoffs “throwing rocks in the middle of the night is important business?”

“Yeah!” You shout, grin widening at the laugh you feel reverberate through his very core.

“Alright then... Well let’s get to it.”

The emotion he brought out of you was enough to make your chest ache at times, and tonight was no exception. What did it matter if you couldn’t see what he looked like? You felt his presence, his touch, his affection. And that was enough. If you had to, you’d wait forever for him.

[og-danny-dorito]

Bucky Barnes SFW Headcanons

a new hyperfixation to avoid my growing anxiety with my personal life? yall already know whats up, and i'm feeling angsty so brace yourself

PUBLISHED :  2 - 17 - 20

S F W : 

- to start off of a positive and happy note (jk you already know thats not how it works) its very likely that upon first meeting, any touch directed towards him is met with an alarmed grunt and/or a slap of your hand away

- anything unsolicited makes him nervous and uncomfortable, so if you really do want to pat his shoulder or hug him or something like that you'd have to ask if it's okay first. now it's pretty easy to see the reasoning behind this but for those doubting it i will explain

- big man has been trained to kill in hand to hand combat and advanced weaponry and countless other things, meaning that he's pretty much wired by this point to have a gut reaction that automatically goes to the fight or flight instinct. it doesn't make logical sense that he wouldn't get uncomfortable and jumpy at loud noises and unsolicited touching since his ptsd has accumulated over the years to MAKE him react like that. he doesn't want to accidentally punch you in the teeth

- like yeah he's all tough and shit and could break the a dude’s neck if he really tried, but the issue is that once his walls are broken down he's sort of akin to that of a regulated killing machine having to redo its wiring to be “normal” again. the transition itself would be traumatic, but the process of initiating it would be even more difficult

- so that means that in the first few months of his recovery, he probably would do a lot of absent-minded staring and just long spells of silence where he just doesn't do anything. it's sort of like a reloading point for his brain, and he starts to pick up the habit of daydreaming a lot. sometimes you'll have to say his name a few times to snap him out of it, but when he does come to he looks a little embarrassed

- it's not that easy to elicit an emotional reaction out of him. you'd have to be fairly close with him to actually get most responses out of him that are more than a word long, and so thus starts my favorite trope; hard depressed kill man falls for person who just Keeps Trying

- it's not that easy to get under his skin, but meeting him somewhere normally and constantly talking to him will probably start to make him feel more encouraged to speak in the sense of making normal conversation

- he's a little awkward so in this case patience goes a long way (as does with pretty much everything with him). it gets to the point where after a month or so he may feel weird if he doesn't talk to you at that specific time of the day. if he's grown that fond of you he'll even go out of his way to ask a few people where you are

- part of him hates getting this attached for a number of reasons. there's that nagging feeling in the back of his mind that his environment is temporary and getting attached to the things and people there will hurt him more than he'd like. while he knows that it's not temporary, that he's not leaving anytime soon and probably won't for a while, it all goes back to the killing machine thing

- when he was under hydra’s control, the only thing that was certain was the base he resided in and it's hard to come out of a state of mind where the only thing you know to be continuous is your continued existence as a tool. the place itself brings back horrible memories, but you get what i mean

- so initially he may resist conversation for that very reason

- he tends to pick up on details more than anything, and most of your smaller traits tend to make him quickly used to you. like for instance, if you're prone to pursuing your lips and narrowing your eyes at something odd you've heard or seen, he might find it cute mentally and then immediately correct himself for it. if you tend to snort a little and roll your eyes when you laugh, he's going to notice that and MAYBE try to pay more attention when something funny is said to hear it again

- i would generally think that he doesn't really have much a type or preference at all. in fact, i'm pretty sure the only thing he seemed consciously aware of that he likes in a partner is ability to understand. cause if you can't forgive him for the things he's done and see why he does what he does now, he can't bring himself to feel like he needs to go through all of his self hatred and doubt more intensely than he already is

- he probably is asexual as well but that's sort of iffy considering he's canon been in sexual relationships so that's a maybe. but he's definitely demiromantic. it's not that easy for him to find people attractive anymore. when he starts to get to know you better he starts feeling some sort of way and picking up on MORE details that you may not even notice yourself

- bucky is also incredibly skilled at remembering things you might've said a month ago and completely forgot about. some find this off putting and that's understandable, but when it comes down to it, its a product of sorta okay memory

- “My cousin almost flipped his car over this week.”

- “Phillipe?”

- “Uh, yeah. How did you...?”

- “You mentioned him two weeks ago... when he almost fell of your roof the week before.”

- “I did?”

- remembers dates, names, eye colors, and a multitude of other things, so sometimes he'll just mention something important you may have forgotten and pretend like he definitely wasn't paying too much attention to you. it's surprising how good his memory is even though he can't remember any of his past. so this most likely means that he has issues with remembering events and how they happened, but not the details of them. like how you can remember your shirt color a few week s back but not what you did while wearing that shirt

- and on that note, he kinda shuts down if he gets a weird flashback in the middle of something. they're mostly triggered by smells and sounds, but sometimes if he sees something while he's walking down the street he'll just stop and stare at it. it's best just to stop and stare at it with him, or alternatively if you don't want stares, act like you're taking a picture. but don't talk to him while it's happening cause it'll interrupt the train of thought and derail him completely

- he tends to talk a lot about things if he's grown very invested in them (he's very good at keeping focus). if you're out walking together or just sitting down he might stare and absentmindedly reach out to touch you before stopping himself at the last minute. gently grabbing his hand and placing it wherever he wanted to touch makes him flustered every time. that and hes super soft but is afraid to be vulnerable around anyone

- just gently grabbing his hand makes him all mushy, and it’s more often than not that he finds himself weak when someone shows pretty much any form of affection or endearment towards him

- probably not into pda though, not that much. he will hold your hand if you want to, but don’t expect to like sit in his lap or like straight upstart kissing in public cause any attention in a public setting makes him nervous

- really likes a kind of homey s/o. someone who likes to cook or bake or whatever makes him feel a little bit like he doesn't have to worry about something for a while. like if he comes home and dinner is just waiting on the table for him or you’ve already drawn a bath for him and/or made the bed or whatever, he literally appreciates that above pretty much anything else

- love language is most likely acts of service. hes not very good with words unless he like thinks it out beforehand, but pretty much buys you gifts all the time because he likes seeing you light up when you see them. he does try to spend as much time as he can with you but either anxiety gets the best of him or hes literally too busy, and so it ends up being more distant with him coming over a few times during the week, even if you live together. and we already know the deal with physical touch so im not gonna restate my strong belief in “big man has trauma no touch big man unless A S K”

- but a lot of the things he does are situational. one day he may be very down to be super affectionate and the other he’ll be painfully distant, but the main issue with all of it is that hes very very bad at communication

- this poses an issue for a number of reasons, but his responses and reactions are more physical than anything. so for instance, if hes uncomfortable with something he’ll start to shift and stare and be very tense the whole time it’s occurring, or if he’s feeling a bit more sad or depressed he’ll isolate himself and consistently stand slouched or look as if he hasn't gotten enough sleep. it’s mostly body language, but after a while he’ll feel safe enough to tell you how he feels about certain things

- this takes a while to actually happen, but when it does he manages to just,,, say things that are on his mind. like you’ll be reading or scrolling through your phone or whatever and he’ll randomly be like “The table has a lot of scratches on it.” it’s just observations he has, but usually it translates to him wanting to change the stated fact. best thing to do is just to roll with it, since hes practically learning how to communicate again and he’s picking up on things socially

- now let's get to the “a little fluffy” and “kinda-already-known” shit, shall we?

-  miscellaneous headcanons;

gets jealous pretty easily in the early stages of your relationship, but only ever indicates this by staring the person in question down and refusing to admit to it later

likes having his hair put up into cool hairstyles and likes colored rubber bands (or hair ties if youre not where i'm from). seriously, he may loose his shit if you just like put cool braids in his hair one day like hes a viking or whatever

kind of tone deaf but his singing is more of like this raspy and slightly more “Misty Mountains” vocals sounding

is touch sensitive, so even doing something as small as like rubbing your thumb on his arm makes his hair raise on end

doesn't like his metal arm at all and quite obviously wears long sleeves all the time to hide it, but occasionally wears short sleeves when he's feeling less insecure

oh, super insecure btw and THATS why he feels all mushy when someone is kind to him because he KNOWS he's a freak and that he's weird but you're not still being sweet??? too pure, must protect

gives great hugs since he practically smothers anyone he meets with them, but is also basically a walking heater

is terrified of the idea of taking care of children or just anything weaker than him, but is good with them since they always hang on his arms and hold his legs when he walks

super strong

likes sweets a whole lot, specifically fruity sweets like apple pie or peach cobbler. never bring those wallmart cakes or whatever near him cause it'll be gone in like an hour flat unless you tell him to leave you some

- in conclusion, he needs therapy and probably won't be very responsive when he's not sure what to do. it doesn't mean he loves you any less, but he may have a hard time communicating it to you. all he really needs is some patience and a bit of understanding, and he'll get better with the whole s/o thing soon enough. cause you mean the world to him, and he doesn't want anyone or anything to make you feel like less than that

[turtlesoupstories]

Retrouvailles (4/4)

hello friends, it is finally here, the final part of our 500 follower collab fic! this is my second take on it, i just wasn’t happy with the first one but i’m so proud of this one. the first one was 10 pages and so is this one, so yall are in for a ride. thank you so much for all your feedback and kind messages they mean everything to us! i really hope you guys enjoy it!

as always i want to thank my other ladies: kaitlyn, marlo, mikayla for helping me come up with ideas and editing this fuckin novel.

you can find the previous parts of retrouvailles here

and be sure to check out the amazing drawing that @outlanderedandoverhere so kindly made for us!

see you all on the flip side 😏 

-shannon ( @internallydeceased )

Two Years Later… Boston, Massachusetts

Claire stared into the deep amber liquid of the whiskey that swirled in her glass, half hoping that the tiny tornado she created would suck her up and spit her out somewhere else–anywhere else.

“Are you even listening to me, L. J.?” Joe–her one true friend and confidant–nudged her with his elbow, pulling her from her reverie.

“Hm? Sorry, what were you saying?” Claire replied, her head jerking up to meet his eyes, cheeks flushed in humiliation.

Joe chuckled, “It’s fine, don’t sweat it.” He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling as he did so. “I asked if you were alright–something on your mind?” He took another swig of his drink, eyebrows raised over the rim of the cup in anticipation.

Her hands lay in her lap, grappling with each other as anxiety and guilt washed over her all at once.  

She stared at her hands, trying to focus on anything other than the emotions that plagued her. Tears welled up in her eyes as the memory of a young boy flitted across her consciousness.

Joe placed a large hand over both of hers comfortingly, assuring her that he was–and always would be–there for her.

“Claire, you know you can tell me.”

She laughed shortly. “You know, I can’t seem to remember you ever calling me that before.”

Looking up at him, she watched as he shook his head. “Well, there’s a first time for everything,” he joked, but his face turned serious as he nodded, signalling her to continue.

Claire took in a long shaky breath, closing her eyes for a moment in an attempt to gain her composure.

“I can’t stop thinking about him… or his mother. Joe, I’ve never had a patient die on me. Ever. And with that, I feel like I could’ve—should’ve—saved him…” She trailed off, her voice choked on the sobs that threatened to break through.

She finally looked up at him, her eyes glassy with tears. “It’s all my fault, Joe. A mother now has to live without her child because of me. I killed him.” She finished, voice cracked with emotion, and she leaned onto Joe’s shoulder—thoroughly and completely falling to pieces.

Joe pulled her into his chest, silently shushing her and drawing soothing patterns on her back with his hand.

“Do you want to step outside for a minute?” He whispered, taking note of the scattered curious eyes lingering on them. She nodded, taking his hand as he lead them out of the comforting warmth of the bar and into the bitter cold of a December night.

She was still sobbing, her breath coming fast and short as she continued to lose control of her emotions. Joe turned towards her, forcing her to look up at him.

“Lady Jane, you can’t save everyone. It wouldn’t have made a difference if you’d gotten there an hour or, hell, even a minute sooner. Sometimes things happen that we can’t prepare for, and there isn’t a damn thing we can do about it.”

“I’ve been able to save people before,” she murmured shakily into his chest. “Even when all the odds were against me, I was able to turn it around somehow. But not with him.” Shaking her head slowly, she could hardly begin to think about anything else, besides that it was her fault he lay cold and lifeless in a morgue instead of outside and alive, living his life with his family. There were so many things that he could no longer do, and now these things plagued her, lingering close behind her like a ghost.

Joe placed his hands on each of her shoulders, squeezing her hard enough so that she’d look at him. “Listen to me. You’ve been lucky, luckier than anyone I’ve ever known—but there isn’t a surgeon on this planet, no matter how lucky, that can save every patient that walks through their door.” He exhaled and dropped his arms from her shoulders so that they lay limp at his sides. “There will always be losses that stick with you, especially your first.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall.

Claire noticed that Joe was no longer present, his mind taking him to another time and place. She whispered softly, “Yours?”

“I was in my third year of residency. A woman came in with flu-like symptoms: she’d been sick for months, and her condition remained the same. I knew that it could’ve been anything—but I was so sure it wasn’t anything serious.” He paused, looking off into the distance, remembering. “I examined her, took some tests. But I failed to see something that seems so obvious now. I had expected it to be so easy, but…” He trailed off, unable to say the words that remained trapped in his throat.

Instead, she finished for him. “It wasn’t.”

“No,” he murmured, still far away. “It wasn’t.”

“What happened?” Claire inquired after another long pause.

He looked up at her, his eyes soft in the dim light of the street lamp, illuminating the tears that threatened to fall.

“We had her stay a few hours longer,  just in case something unusual were to happen. But it wasn’t until I went over the tests and mentally ran through the list of symptoms again that I realized what I had missed: Leptospirosis—”

“Weil’s disease,” she’d said, mostly to herself.

He nodded. “By the time we figured out what it was, it was too late. I did everything I could to save her but… there was nothing I could do for her. By the time she came in, her liver was already failing. The damage had already been done, and no one could’ve saved her, L. J. No one.”

Tears silently streamed down his cheeks, the guilt weighed on him, even now, despite the fact that he knew there was nothing else he could’ve done. Wiping his face to clear the few fallen tears, he took a deep breath and turned his attention back to his friend.

“With every life saved, another is lost. It doesn’t matter what we do to try and change that. There will always be death and there will always be life, no matter how hard we try to avoid it.” He smiled, squeezing his friend’s hand, “But it’s easier on the mind to focus on those we have saved, while letting the memory of those lost live forever in our minds.”

Claire swallowed and nodded, beginning to understand. The message was simple: she’ll always blame herself, but that’s okay. Focusing on the positive is more important, in order to keep her sanity.

Joe let out a light chuckle, placing his left hand on her shoulder and leading them back into the bar. “I don’t know about you Lady Jane, but I need a drink.”

The farther and farther into the drink Claire got, the more prevalent the boy’s death became. She tried to listen to Joe’s words, to let him live on in her memory and focus on others, but she couldn’t. A lingering thought was ever-present in her mind, hovering over her like a bee to a flower: that boy reminded her of someone she had known, a long time ago.

She had tried so hard to leave everything behind, to shove all her memories in a box and leave them in the back of the closet. But he was all she ever thought about, ever since she returned to Boston. Despite finishing medical school, earning her degree and finally living her dream as a surgeon, he always lingered in the back of her mind.

Deep down, she understood why Geordie Campbell’s death had resonated so strongly with her—she had just refused to admit it. She’d thought that if she ignored it, it would eventually go away and she could move on. But she should’ve known better.

A few months after she graduated, she tried dating again. The men came and went, none of them coming close to the feeling she had felt with him, the truest love she had ever found in her life. After her fifth or sixth failed date, she began to think that she’d be alone for the rest of her days.

Eventually, she just threw everything she had into work, spending so much time in that damn hospital that she might as well have lived there. Yet no matter how much time and effort she focused on the other aspects of her life, Jamie was always there, like a chain you just can’t shake free.

That day when the boy died on the table—in her hands—she lost herself completely, having to leave the room and stay in the break room for the rest of the night, her heart finally giving into the harsh truth she’d ignored for two long years:

She did want him, love him, miss him. And more than anything in her life, she wanted to be with him. Many a time she’d gone online, looking for flights to Paris; but as soon as she’d get to the book flight button, the fears and doubts nagged at her.

What if he hates me and never wants to see me again? Does he resent me, now, for leaving him after he spilled his entire heart out to me? What if he’s already moved on—with a girlfriend or, hell, married with a family? Could I live with myself if I broke apart a happy marriage? What if—

“Can you shut up for one second?” She muttered to herself, downing the rest of her glass.

The hours passed as the pair drank and talked, reminiscing about their internships and the beginning of their friendship. Joe spoke about his family, some of the odd cases that came into the ER in the last couple of weeks, and generally just laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

“I’ll be right back, just need to use the restroom.” She smiled at her friend—who was on his fourth drink, limiting himself so that he could watch over Claire and make sure she got home safely.

She was halfway to the restroom when she heard her name.

“Claire!”

Her entire body went rigid as she slowly turned to face him. “Frank,” she said in a clipped tone.

Frank smiled, his face sweet and genuine. For a moment, she wasn’t even sure it was the same man she’d known almost four years ago. “I was sitting over there and I saw you pass by, thought I’d ask how you’re doing. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you.”

She narrowed her eyes, searching for the true colors of the man behind this mask of civility. “I’m fine, thank you. How are you and Sandy?”

He beamed at the name, eyes sparkling with something she’d never seen in him before. “We’re getting married, actually.”

“Well, I suppose congratulations are in order.”

He nodded humbly, “Thank you. What about you? Found anyone special?” He inquired as he looked over to where she’d just been sitting, arching one eyebrow as he spotted Joe.

“No,” she laughed, mostly at the notion of her and Joe as a couple. “That’s Joe. He’s my friend and coworker. But to answer your question: no, I’m focusing on my career for now.”

Frank smirked, a crack in the mask. “I see. I suppose some things don’t change.”

She gritted her teeth. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just funny to see how little people change in the span of three years,” he replied, looking her up and down with hawk-like eyes.

Unsure of his meaning, she instead turned her attention towards the bar and spotting a lone glass, half full with some foreign beverage. She stepped away for a moment before turning back to face him. “Funnily enough, Frank, neither have you.” With a flick of the wrist, she threw the drink at him, whatever alcoholic beverage it was splashing across his face and the top of his shirt.

She smirked triumphantly as she stalked away from him, not one tinge of regret present in her body. The look on his face was four years in the making.

“Shit!” Joe swore, checking the time on his wristwatch. “I’m sorry, L.J., but I’ve gotta get home.” He slipped into his jacket and geared up for the cold that awaited him outside the door. Once he zipped it up, he looked back to Claire, grimacing. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

She smiled, shaking her head in dismissal. “No need, I think I’ll walk. I could use the fresh air.”

His brows knitted together in concern. “Are you sure? If something happens, I-”

“Joe. Go home. I’ll be fine, I promise.” She gave him a reassuring smile and tilted her head towards the door, telling him that it was okay to leave. He hesitated, unsure of his decision, until Claire mouthed the word “go” and he finally left.

Claire turned her attention back to her drink: her second glass of water. She downed it before putting on her own jacket and gloves. Stepping outside into the dark, she noticed how the blanket of white over the ground sparkled when a headlight occasionally passed over it. Snow had begun to fall, microscopic crystals falling from the sky and decorating everything in a thick blanket of ice. She exhaled, watching the cloud of her breath dissipate into the air. The cold bit at her exposed skin, numbing the tip of her nose and the apples of her cheeks. She looked up at the sky before beginning the journey home—she couldn’t make out the difference between the stars and the snowflakes that floated towards her, thinking that perhaps they were one in the same.

The sidewalk was covered in a fresh sheet of snow, perfectly smooth and undisturbed. The streets were completely empty besides the occasional car going by or a light in a store window. Other than that, she was completely alone. In that moment, it was as if she were the only person in the world.

For the first time in a long time, she felt happy—free. Her heart and soul soothed by the smell of pine-trees and the memories of Christmases long past. But there was no feeling of grief or mourning as she thought of them, as there usually was. It was as though her parents were walking along side her, watching over her and keeping her safe. Only, it wasn’t their eyes that she felt on her back as she walked down the sidewalk, feet crunching in the snow underfoot. The hair at the back of her neck stood on end as the euphoria of the memory faded away into something else.

She shoved her hands inside her pockets and began to walk a little faster. If I can just get to the cafe a few blocks away, I’ll be fine, she thought to herself, a plan forming in her slightly fogged mind.

Never once did she look back as she made her way into the cafe, eyes forward and her head down, her rational mind attempting to assure her that the threat wasn’t real. She headed straight for the counter, asking the half-asleep barista for a black iced coffee. After paying for the drink, she stood by the napkin dispenser, heart racing as she could still feel the eyes on her.

Upon calling her name and setting the drink at the end of the counter, Claire grasped it in one hand. Pulling off the lid and turning to the napkin station, as if she was about to pour sugar into the drink, she instead turned and thrust her hand forward, throwing the drink directly in the face of the stranger behind her.

The figure wiped his eyes cautiously, a familiar hand brushing his hair out of his face. Her heart seemed to be stuck in her throat.

“Jamie…”

As any artist would know, they are nothing without a muse. If it doesn’t exist, or it is lost, the purpose of art is lost. Jamie had learned this the hard way, having met and lost his muse within the span of two weeks. His interest in people declined greatly with the absence of her, and eventually found no enjoyment in photographing people at all. Ultimately, he steered away from people altogether, capturing the natural beauty of cities and countrysides instead.

Despite his change in subject, his work was still occasionally featured in galleries and magazines; remnants of the person he once was. Eventually, he decided to leave Paris behind, unable to live in a place where her ghost constantly haunted him with the memories of their time together. The places they were together were the hardest, but in the end, it didn’t matter where he was: his mind would always find a way to work Claire into it, whether they had spent time together there or not.

After leaving Paris about a month after her, he decided to go back to his ancestral home in the Scottish countryside, to spend some time with his family and, ultimately, to heal. He carried his camera everywhere he went, capturing the lush green of the hills and moors of the Scottish summer.

He found it nearly impossible to stay in one place for too long, however, so he took to life on the road: travelling to different cities, countries, and continents. Still, he would avoid photographing the people, and instead focused on the architecture, the landscapes, the skylines. In the end, he realized he was doing it for Claire–rather, for himself to impose Claire into each rolling landscape. Each time he went to a new city, he couldn’t help but picture her there amongst the crowds of people. All around the world he’d traveled, from Morocco to Tokyo to Las Vegas–and everywhere he turned, he’d see her creep around a corner or wave down a taxi. She was always with him, haunting him, never allowing him to forget.

Eventually, he had finally made his way to Boston. Upon arriving, he realized she had said something in the past about the city being her home, but he hadn’t thought anything of it. Now that he was here, however, the presence of her was almost overwhelming. Everywhere he turned, he’d see her face amongst those of strangers: lost in the crowded streets. Throughout the duration of his stay, he spent each day roaming throughout the city, walking through all the neighborhoods that laid within. He visited every place he could think of, hoping that today would be the day–the day that his life would begin again; to reshape the shell of it into the life he truly wanted.

He’d spent his day today wandering around hospital wards, hoping for just the tiniest glimpse of her. Wandering the halls almost like a ghost, he would pace the hallways until someone would kick him out. After the fifth time, the only thing he needed was something that would allow him to forget, at least for a little while.

And walking into the bar, all hopes dashed, he saw her–sitting at the bar across the room, talking and laughing with another man. Seeing the wide smile on her face made his heart sink low in his chest. Had she found someone else?

His eyes were on her the entire night, falling in love with her all over again. The way she carried herself with more confidence than any woman he ever saw, how she threw the drink in a man’s face and still made it look beautiful. The carefree sound of her laugh, reverberating off the walls of the small bar. His stomach fluttered when he noticed her companion leave without her. She was finally alone.

When she left, he had begun to panic. He’d been so afraid that he had missed his chance, worrying about what to say to her instead of actually talking to her; that now, it was too late.

Go after her, the voice inside his head screamed. Go after her!

Instead of calling for her, however, he opted to just follow her down the street. Still unable to say a word, he trailed behind, chastising himself for each minute that passed. Feeling more like a stray dog than a long-lost lover, he followed her into the coffeeshop, finally mustering up the courage to say something.

He opened his mouth to speak when he was met with iced coffee being thrown in his face. It wasn’t what he had planned or expected, but it couldn’t have been more perfect.

He couldn’t help but laugh, the memory of their first meeting replaying in his mind (though, thankfully, this coffee didn’t burn. Suppose she’s learned her lesson). He could hardly believe any of it was happening at all, the pure ecstasy that shot through every cell and fiber of his entire being as he looked at her.

“Claire.”

She’d completely forgotten about the plastic cup she’d been holding that now laid at her feet, rolling side to side and tapping against her foot. All she could do was stare at his face, pinching herself to make sure he was really here.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” She breathed, still not fully convinced that this wasn’t just another dream.

Jamie looked down at his feet, feeling as though he were fourteen again, afraid to speak to the girl he had a crush on. “That’s uh… a rather long story.”

“I suppose you could start with why you were following me?”

His eyes were wide, his mouth gaping like a fish out of water as words failed him. She couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on his face, her heart beginning to feel whole again.

“I uh, I ken it wasna right and I beg yer pardon for it but I was just so–” He shook his head and braved a glance at her.

Her eyebrows rose expectantly. “So…?”

“Afraid. I wanted to go over to ye more than anything, but I was afraid ye’d found someone else and moved on I– Christ, just to see ye again! It was as if I stepped outside on a cloudy day, and suddenly the sun came out.” He was beaming ear to ear, his blue eyes crinkling with the joy of it.

Claire could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. It was hard for her to even imagine it: the man she had longed for throughout the duration of their separation, the one she thought about constantly and had tried to forget, was standing there, right in front of her. The fact that he was just as excited and frightened as she was calmed her racing heart.

“I wasn’t sure you’d remember me…” She said absentmindedly, taking a step towards him.

His teeth flashed white as he smiled before digging into his pocket and pulling out a small square of paper–a photo. He took a step forward as well, handing it to her. A laugh escaped his lips when her hand came up to her mouth in shock, the tears that she’d kept at bay streaming down her cheeks. Her own eyes peered up at her from behind the rim of a coffee cup, hair wild around her face. Their very first meeting, the photograph (and the coffee) that had started it all.

“How could I ever forget about you?” He whispered, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek and leaning in to kiss her.

Their first step towards a new life, together.  

END.

[cheerisuu]

Im Back.

Boy, how time flies fast when you’re busy keeping things feel right. I mean, they’re supposed to be. I’m going to make this update as quick as i can and as precise as i can, bet i cant do both tho lmao.

It has been approximately 3 weeks since Rock Bottom (i guess it’s what you call it? Well, close.) and things has been quite, nice.

The month of July has really been a journey of what felt like forever. Today is the 12th of the month and i have come to the point where i realised that the mind is the only thing that keeps us from doing or achieveing something that we want. And this applies to a couple of situations:

I learned how to do a buck tuck.

This is one of the few things i achieved as i underwent through a “therapaeutic healing” after the incident. I surrounded myself with the few people that im friends with in our Pep Squad and fortunately my friend Dapitanon, P. also had a common friend which made our days more progressive. Just the act of cheering for each other to do one’s best really lifts everyone’s morale.

“It’s really all in the mind.”

We ARE physically capable of doing things but our mind seems to think that there’s an invisible obstacle that prevents us from pursuing what we want to achieve. I realise this as we were practicing for a back tuck, which i proudly achieved (with a spotter pa hehe). But that achievement was already some proof that if i can have control over my body, i can do all things if i just believe just enough to do it right. Heck, I think I’ll attach my tuck video somewhere on here.

1st of July.

We went to a dog cafe.

Idk what’s with me but i really like to do something special at least once a month with him and WITHOUT telling him. After all, I can’t just let myself be carried away with the emotions that lead me almost to the verge of thinking it was over, right? So despite our awkwardness and difference of treatment (slight), I still picked him up (with miraculously good timing too) with our Navara and was able to use it for the whole day before returning it back to my Granddad’s. Did i mention he got car sick? It was the cutest. (Am i weird for saying that? Doesn’t matter tho lmao) i thought of going to the dog cafe cause i was thinking, “Hey dogs can like help with your mental and emotional health right? So why the frick not.” Im surely going to post a little GIF here somewhere on how cute the doggos were. And when i tell you, dogs CAN bring the purest out of anyone. We literally were like talking to babies man and boy the dogs were HUUGE, only the pugs were like “hey hooman u can luv me unlyk diz oder bitchez” haha. But if ever things do go well for us in the future, we are DEFINITELY going to get a golden retriever man. It’s my dream!

Anyways, we also got to watch our first movie as “barkada pero gusto ang isat isa” or BPGAII, it was Toy Story 4. And bitch, dont get me started on how we were wondering if it was a child’s movie or not coz boi, we did NOT like the jump scares at ALL. But still, me being an emotional, soft potato, it still made me cry in the end. The meaning behind was great it was all about taking the risk, which was kind fitting? For him at least hekhek. Basically Woody chose to be with his hoe, Bo, for Buzz, his bro. But this aint no movie review so, *boop.

I gave him my skin care?

Ok tbh this was so random right. He realised my skin was glowing better (coz bitch, we aint lettin no sadness ruin this skin ya feel?) so he asked what was i using cos he was contemplating on his gorgeous face that he was getting ugly now. (The audacity, am i right?? Lol) so i CLEARLY (no pun intended) put into the effort of giving him some travel bottles and put in some samples of what moisturiser and micellar water i was using right, and i guess it worked out well? I also got to drive it TO him still. But the good side of this was i was able to be with my Granddad and spend some time together as his driver hihi.

LADY DRIVER.

So I’m getting good at this driving thing right, as driving from Malaybalay to Cagayan, Davao to Tagum and vice versa, Tagum to Maco and back. So i might as well be good at city driving and yall cant tell me otherwise lol,

(SIDENOTE:except for the fact i got stopped by the Yellow Ranger in Ecoland coz i was at the left lane at a traffic light and my mom told me to go straight WHICH WAS WRONG I GUESS THATS A THING RIGHT, so i was almost charged 1500 pesoses. But thank Heezuz i was with my mom and she was able to talk through the officer but sadly we had to name drop my Granddad since he was a known regional director at LTO before. Sorry Pops, i swear it’ll be the first and last time.)

Back to real time, i helped him with his errands and was really lucky with the timing coz my Dad went off for a trip and my mom was left with his car. So yup, got the chance to borrow it for half of the day and drove all the way to Maa to get a keyboard his friend is letting him use for the mean time, her name is Jen and she’s the sweetest. (No backstory will be dropped for privacy). Aight, so we drove back to their house at Magallanes but didn’t have enough time to say hi to his folks coz it was noon and they were on siyestas, right. I still regret why i didnt like fake-pee or something tho. HahahahahahahDONTJUDGE. We ate for some late lunch at SML and felt korek coz before we joke about “asa ta nag park?” And now we get to be in the situation haha. It’s funny coz just when i thought things were detoriating between us, the world just chooses to keep things tight and close and say something like “oh, u guys are having an emotional conflict and struggle about ur relationship? Here are things that only REAL couples do and i hope u enjoy em!!” Dumbass. Jokes aside, I drove him home and goodbyes are still awkward, but i was starting to understand the type of ‘low-key’ he means.

Usapang Gym.

Oh wow it’s already the fifth point. If you manage to read this far, congrats! You get nothing but to keep on reading this rollercoaster wreck lmao. I wasn’t expecting he would pay the whole month at our gym and expects me to come with him. And it came to me: i kept on thinking that i should ask for assurance but in reality, he really does mean what he said about just being “me”. Things were different but things also got better. It’s like losing some and gaining some right? Like a body excrcising, losing weight, gaining muscle, idk its a weak analogy but its close enough for yall to understand. It’s our first week today, (it’s Friday) i hope i could keep up tho haha. I guess I’ll keep progress updated? Idkidkidk. Also, i got to mention thats he is VAIN af. Idk if its a good thing or just a tragedy waiting to happen haha. I also became his coach, (oha san kapa haha), he told me he wanted help with increasing his verticle as he would help me with abdominals. So i bought sets of ankle weights only to find out the first one didnt suit him so i had to buy another set. AND IT WAS HALF THE PRICE I BOUGHT THE FIRST SET AND IT WAS BETTER. Prices will be disclosed. (250) So i like, i do my own workout right and he suddenly shows his hot-headed side of things coz he was upset he had to go home early coz there was this no-towel-no-workout policy at my gym so we had to cut our day short.

In times like these, my mind just goes to places to different situations. All the what-ifs start filling up my mind on how he could react to other situations that would cause a similar effect on what his character was showing right. But in the end, i still give kudos to myself coz im able to keep up and cope with how quick his personality changes sometimes. And sometimes, im the one with a crack on the head lmao. Well, most of the time.

TAKE AWAYS.

Fast forward to this very moment, its 11:30 in the evening and im recalling all of this on a positive note. Today was an addition to a great day we had as a rest day from gym. We watched Spiderman: Far From Home and i guess its now my current favorite and HAD to watch it twice.

Speaking of Twice, bruh i want to do a dance cover so bad of #Fancy or #YesOrYes coz i been itching and the choreo is sooo goood! Not to mention Twice was in Manila last 29th of June. *sighs in broke* but i cant say it was the best concert from them coz there were complications like Jungyeon had a sty and was wearing an eye patch the whole concert, Dahyun got sick after along with Mina who wont be attending the 2019 Twicelights Worldtour because she gets anxiety attacks and feels insecure about performing on stage suddenly. I mean i know you got no idea what im talking about but its just sad to think of the fact that even someone so adored by many people, someone who has great physical, social and emotional support, can still feel the lack of these mentally. And if you’re one of those people who feels anxious about anything? I hope you get well soon and i hope you find the true meaning of your purpose in this simulation, because you are not alone. x

In addition to almost wrapping this up, i also treated myself again something from Adidas (coz again, bitch, if no man gon treat me i gon treat myself! HAHA!) which i later on realise i now own 3 bags from there and thinking to get a fourth one....someone help me¿ i also have to mention i already treated myself about a week ago (🎶) by waxing my own axillae, grooming my own brows, a gorgeous lippie from Beauty Cottage called Elegant Impressionist shade #9 Byzantine for half its original price haha, nothing beats fishing me through a sale. Speaking of treat, my Dad gave me my first pair of Tigers man and i cant help but tell yall its the same pair that the He wanted and it totally pissed him off that i got the pair he wanted first so bad and now he doesn’t know what to do coz he’s afraid if we have the same pair we might wear it at the same time and it would be cringy and weird (now for normal people that would sound cute right, matching kicks and all. But no. Not in this lifetime.), since im just blabbering of how im spoiling myself might as well end it here folks.

Guess I’ll keep you updated on how stuff might go on from now since class is fast approaching. Tomorrow I guess I’ll be attending a send-off party for our friend she’s going to the U.S soon. Oh, did i mention the re-run for Endgame is out? 🤔

[ylla]

Friday Night Gurus - Chapter 3

Series: JJBA Ships: josuyasu, koichi/yukako (others will eventually happen too, but im tagging as i go) Tags: au where theyre famous, modern au, pining, recreational drug use (smoking that wacky tabaccy), some angst in this one lads Rating: M (eventually there will be sex, so that rating will keep climbing)

AO3 link

i have never not been ready to be murdered by my own two hands.

“Oh fuck,” Josuke moaned, white knuckling his kitchen counter as he was thrust into over and over again. Rough hands were gripping his hips hard enough to leave bruises, and by God, Josuke hoped they did. He had always been way too loud during anything remotely sexual, and right now was no exception. The right spot was hit, Josuke felt like electricity was passing through his body, “God, right there, I’m close—“

One of the hands on his hip reached up for his hair, pulling up him with a gentle, yet firm grip, causing him to arch his back against the person behind him.

A mouth pressed against his ear, breath hot and voice harsh, “Beg me.”

“Please, please, please let me cum, please—“

Josuke’s earlobe got caught between teeth, while the hand tugging on his hair moved to his dick, roughly jerking him off. He was seeing stars, his voice going up a few octaves as he neared the edge, “Fuckfuckfuckfuck.” Josuke’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, inhaling sharply as he started to orgasm, “Oh fuck, Oku—“

“PEOPLE’S ELBOOOOW.”

Josuke woke up to a sudden, crushing elbow to his gut, shrieking in a totally manly way. It was completely dark in his room, but he could make out the black outline of a hulking man rolling around on his bed, snorting like the piggy bitch he was. “Man, I wish I would have turned on the light so I could have seen your face,” the big asshole wheezed, his laugh almost coming out in a stereotypical French ‘honhonhon’.

“JEAN PIERRE POLNAREFF, I’M GONNA LITERALLY MURDER YOU,” Josuke roared, struggling to sit up to push Polnareff’s muscly ass off of him.

Polnareff cackled like a witch, jumping up before Josuke could start punching him, “Up and at them, Josuke. It’s time for our run. I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

After Polnareff retreated, Josuke flopped back down, heart still racing. Waiting for his heart rate to return to normal, he grabbed his phone to check the time. It was 6 o’clock in the godforsaken morning. He regretted many things. He regretted giving Polnareff a key to his house. He especially regretted the dream he woke up from and the puddle of cum that had pooled in his underwear.

He put his pillow over his face and screamed. What a fuckin’ mess.

Three hours later, at a much more acceptable time to be awake, Josuke found himself sleepily watching Pol sashay around his kitchen while making omelets. Polnareff was a nutritionist, gym owner, fitness model, and Josuke’s personal trainer. He’d met Polnareff when he was introduced to his father’s side of the family so many years ago; he had been Jotaro’s roommate in college, and Holly, Josuke’s sister, basically considered Pol to be a second son (much to Jotaro’s chagrin and Polnareff’s delight). So not only did Polnareff wake him up at an ungodly hour twice a week, he got to nag and annoy Josuke at all other times as well.

“I have to say, I’m surprised that I didn’t see your friend in there with you this morning. You two are together a lot.”

Polnareff was keeping his tone casual, but Josuke knew exactly where this was headed, “Me and Oku don’t hang out all the time—“

“Josuke, this is the first morning in almost three months that I have walked into your room to wake you up and didn’t see him,” Polnareff pointed a spatula at him, “Can’t argue with the facts.”

He couldn’t, and Josuke despised it.

Ever since the first night he came over, Okuyasu had kept his word about making sure Josuke wasn’t lonely. Between Arrowhead slowing down their activities between their last tour and recording their next album, and Josuke taking a yearlong vacation, they both found themselves with a lot of free time. So, Okuyasu was stayed the night at least three or four times a week. They got high, played videogames, watched stupid movies, took late night drives together, ate food that was terrible for them. Slept in the same bed, and basically cuddled every night they watched a movie together. You know, normal friend stuff.

People like Okuyasu were so rare in Josuke’s life. He never put him on a pedestal like Josuke was some untouchable god or free ticket to fame. He was so grateful to have a friend that saw past all of his fame and fortune, and saw him as he was: just Josuke. It was wonderful and so refreshing.

However, there was one caveat.

Josuke had found himself head over heels in love with Okuyasu, and had to physically restrain himself from making any moves onto his friend. The better he got to know him, the worse it became. He had a sharp ache in his chest whenever he thought about his feelings, and his brain shrieked KISS HIM KISS HIM KISS HIM anytime Oku’s face got remotely near his, or whenever Oku would look at him with a shy smile, or even when Okuyasu cried over something like shelter animals or sad movies. It was all so endearing and Josuke couldn’t get enough of him. For all his flirtations, and for all of the content in his songs that implied that Josuke was some kind of suave, smooth talker, he couldn’t bring himself to risk the first real friendship he’d had in years.

“So what? We hang out a lot, it’s not a big deal,” Josuke forced his voice to remain neutral, “Didn’t you use to bitch and moan at me about never hanging out with anyone besides you assholes, Jolyne, and Koichi?”

“Ignoring your hurtful words, yes I did complain,” Polnareff flipped both omelets onto separate plates; he placed on in front of Josuke and then sat across in the table from him, resting his chin on the top of his water bottle, “But that’s not my point.”

“Then what is?” Josuke arched an eyebrow at him, daring Polnareff to say what he was thinking.

Polnareff was quiet for a few moments before answering, “You should tell him that you’re in love with him.”

Of course Polnareff knew how Josuke felt. He had been the one who had barged in on Josuke lovingly pushing stray hairs out of Okuyasu’s face while he slept one morning. Josuke blurted out everything in a panic while they went for their run, begging him to not speak of it to anyone, especially Okuyasu.

“Absolutely not,” Josuke said flatly.

“You are fucking up, my friend, but it’s your decision,” Polnareff sat up straight and pointed at the omelet in front of him, “Eat that before it gets cold.”

The rest of the conversation was Polnareff talking about some kind of nonsense, Josuke was only paying half-attention because he was still really tired, hungry, and slightly irritated at the earlier conversation. Yeah, like it was so easy to tell your best friend that he was hot and you wanted to kiss him all over, and you were in love with him, haha, full homo bro—

Josuke was pulled out his thoughts to the sound of his text notification going off. His heart did some weird somersault when he saw that Okuyasu had texted him (Josuke finally got his number when Oku put it in his phone for him):

Oku: mornin dude :D

Oku: u doin anythin tonight?

Josuke: nah I aint got anything going on, why?

Oku: were playin a secret show at echoes bar tonight. u wanna come?

He wants me to come see him play, Josuke wheezed inwardly. He responded immediately:

Josuke: HELL YES I DO

Oku: :D hell yeah dude

Oku: i think yukako is gonna invite koichi too, so ill let hazamada kno that yall are gonna be there. he’ll have ur backstages passes ready.

Oku: also word to the wise, wear shorts and a tanktop. the bar gets super hot during shows. ull die in anything else

The rest of their texts were directions, Josuke saying he was excited, and an abundance of smiley face emotes from Okuyasu.

“Oi! Josuke! Stop ignoring me!”

“Oh shit, sorry dude,” Josuke had completely forgotten Polnareff was there, “Did you ask me something?”

Polnareff pouted, “You are so rude to me. I was asking you if you wanted to get dinner with me, Noriaki, and Jolyne tonight. Jotaro is still out in the field and Mo is doing some college thing, so it’ll just be the four of us.”

 Josuke couldn’t stop himself from breaking out into a huge grin, “Sorry, I got plans tonight.”

The upside to having a signature look was that if Josuke had his hair down or in a ponytail, no one recognized him. So when he stood in the very back of Echoes with Koichi, trying to not get trampled by the massive crowd, no one bothered him.

Not that they would’ve anyways. What was happening on stage was infinitely more interesting.

The music was so loud, Josuke could feel it vibrate into his chest. His ears were starting to ring a little, but he didn’t care. Oku’s voice was amazing when he recorded in a studio, but listening to him live was almost like an out of body experience. His voice just crashed over him like the tide, and Josuke wanted it to sweep him out to sea.

Oku hadn’t been lying when he said the club got too hot; all four members of Arrowhead were various states of undress. Josuke could only see half of Yuuya, but he looked like he was naked behind his drum kit. Yukako had her hair up in a high ponytail, wearing ass eating shorts and a cutoff tank top. Keicho was shirtless and in shorts, hair down out of his normal…whatever he had going on there. Oku was dressed more or less the same, but the difference was Okuyasu was infinitely more attractive. Josuke could see the band of his boxer briefs peak up over the waist of his shorts, and licked his lips unconsciously.

Okuyasu was sweaty, loose hairs from his ponytail were falling his face, and looked like he was having a blast, giving all he had and then some. Josuke didn’t think it could’ve been possible, but he fell more in love with him as he watched. All he wanted was to find out what skin that stretched over his hip bones tasted like.

“Koichi, I’m gay.” Josuke moaned.

“What did you say? I can’t hear you,” Koichi called back.

“I said I’m gay!”

Koichi just gave him a very confused look, clearly not understanding what he was saying.

“I’M GAY!” Josuke hollered, grabbing Koichi by the shoulders and shaking him for emphasis.

“Agh! I get it, I get it! Stop!!!”

Yukako noticed them first. After they finished a song, and was in the process of swapping guitars out, Yukako grabbed Okuyasu by the bicep and whispered in his ear. He looked over to the corner Josuke and Koichi were in, and his face lit like the sun. He waved excitedly, which Josuke couldn’t help but wave back, matching his enthusiasm and smile. Okuyasu walked over to a short, sallow looking dude and pointed over towards them. A few minutes later, the roadie appeared beside them, “Here’s your passes, follow me.”

The backstage was kind of cramped, filled with at least a dozen good looking women. Josuke tried to stand away from them, half afraid of being recognized and half wanting to avoid hearing about which band members they wanted to fuck.

When the show ended, the groupies rushed at the bandmembers as they filed off stage. Yukako lips curled into a snarl and elbowed her way over to Koichi; when in front of him, the ice melted and she gave him a sweet smile before planting a kiss on his lips. Koichi froze momentarily before returning the smooch. Josuke had asked Koichi a few weeks ago what was up with him and Yukako. All he got in response was a shrug and a “We’re dating??”

Keicho and Yuuya were wrapped up in all the attention from the groupies, who were fawning over all over them (Yuuya wasn’t naked, and Josuke thanked his lucky stars he didn’t have to see Yuuya’s penis). Girls were too busy playing with Keicho’s hair and rubbing on Yuuya to notice that Okuyasu had quietly slipped in behind them. Good, Josuke sighed with relief, He’ll keep it lowkey.

Which he immediately ruined by shouting, “JOSUKE!” and pounding over to him, nearly knocking Josuke off of his feet with a hug, “YOU CAME!”

Okuyasu was too warm and sweaty, and if there was a god, he would prevent Okuyasu from feeling how hard Josuke was getting from feeling his bare chest press against him. Josuke returned the hug with ferocity, “Of course I did, I said I would.” He pulled back to look Okuyasu in the face, and also prevent his errant boner from rubbing up against him. “It were fantastic, I’m so blown away! You’re amazing, Okuyasu.” Josuke beamed at him, and the tears that filled Okuyasu’s eyes made his stomach flutter.

“You mean that?” he croaked.

“Yeah!”

“Pinky promise?”

Josuke hooked his pinky with Okuyasu’s, “Pinky promise.”

Okuyasu gave him a watery smile before hugging him again, “Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you,” Oku whispered against his shoulder.

If there wasn’t a million pairs of eyes on him, Josuke would have said ‘fuck it’ and kissed Okuyasu right then and there, but he was too chicken. “You’re welcome, Oku,” Josuke pulled away again, “Go shower and then we’ll get out of here.”

“Oh shit,” Okuyasu rubbed the back his neck, looking sheepish, “Sorry, I got like super sweaty and gross.”

Josuke gave him a friendly punch in the arm, “S’fine dude, I don’t care. I’m gonna go smoke, so just come outside when you’re done.” Okuyasu made an assenting noise before jogging off to go shower. Pointedly ignoring Yuuya’s waggling eyebrows and some indecipherable look from Keicho, Josuke swiveled on his heels and left.

It was late summer, but the air felt a 1000x times cooler than it did inside. Josuke had been enjoying his few minutes of peace and quiet while he sat the backdoor’s staircase when he heard someone walk out behind him. He almost greeted Okuyasu, but an unfamiliar voice spoke.

“Why are you here?”

That was not Okuyasu.

Josuke turned to find a still shirtless Keicho peering down at him, hair hanging in his face, unlit cigarette in his hand. “Oku invited me,” Josuke replied, not liking the look on Keicho’s face.

“Why?”

What fuckin’ kind of question is that?? “Because we’re friends? And I told him I wanted to see you guys perform sometime?”

Keicho lit his cigarette and took a drag, his eyes never leaving Josuke’s, “Why?”

Josuke was about .3 seconds away from losing his temper, “Why what?? What the fuck are you asking me, dude??”

“Why are you friends with him?”

It was a huge effort to not start shrieking into the night, “Because he’s a cool guy? And funny? And I enjoy his company? What fucking kind of question is that?” Josuke snubbed out his cigarette, drawing himself up to full height, “What exactly are you trying to say here?”

“Okuyasu doesn’t have friends, and I don’t trust you,” Keicho responded coldly, “I wanna know what you’re after.”

“I’m just after his friendship, you clown!” Josuke exclaimed, rapidly losing his patience, “Is that so fuckin’ hard to believe??”

Before Keicho could retort, the door banged open. “Keicho, you got girls here who wanna inflict terrible things upon your penis, you better get in here and give ‘em what they want,” Yuuya grinned, leaning against the door frame. Purple bruises marred his neck and Josuke could hear whining from behind him.

Without another word to Josuke, Keicho dropped his cigarette, ground it out with his heel, and shouldered past Yuuya. The door swung closed, and Josuke exploded, “What the fuck is his deal??”

Yuuya shrugged, “That’s just Keicho.”

Josuke pointed at Yuuya, “No, that’s just being a cock goblin. I’ve never done anything to that guy, why’s he being such a dickhead??”

“I’ve known Keicho and Okuyasu since I was about 12,” Yuuya started, “There’s a lot of reasons why they’re both the way they are. Good or bad, right or wrong.” He kicked an empty cigarette pack off of the stairs, “Keicho’s got this thing about controlling things and people,” Yuuya took a seat on the top step, “Oku being with you all the time prevents Keicho from having his brother under his thumb.”

“With the way Oku talks about him, it sounds like Keicho fuckin’ hates him.”

Yuuya shrugged again, “Keicho makes it a point to be an absolute bastard to Oku most of the time. Though, he did take a knife to the gut when Akira tried to stab Okuyasu, so that’s something.”

Josuke was thoroughly confused, “Why?”

“Obligation to their mom, I imagine. Keicho got really drunk once and told me that before she died, she made him promise that he would always look out for Okuyasu. So he does, in some way or another.” Yuuya sprung up to his feet, “I will say this, Josuke…it’s nice that Okuyasu’s got a friend not linked to his brother in one way or another. Good for him, ya? But,” He stared Josuke down, all friendliness gone, “I’m pretty perceptive on how you feel, so no need to try and deny it to me. It’s obvious to everyone save for Okuyasu himself and probably Keicho. So, this is a warning: Don’t hurt Oku, or I will find you and whoop your ass. We clear?”

I rather die than hurt him. “Crystal.”

Before either of them could say anything else, Okuyasu walked out of the backdoor with a bruised right cheek, bloody knuckles, and a nose dripping red, “Ready to bounce?”

“Dude, super fuck your brother.”

Okuyasu sat in Josuke’s kitchen while Josuke did his best to doctor him up. He waved a hand, “S’fine, we do this sometimes. He gets too mouthy and I gotta stand my ground,” Okuyasu hissed when Josuke sprayed antiseptic on his oozing knuckles.

“You still haven’t told me what he said.”

As he rarely did, Okuyasu evaded the question, “S’not important. What matters is that I shut ‘em up and he won’t be running that big, stupid mouth of his for a while.”

According to Oku, Keicho walked away from that scuffle with a split lip, black eyes, and probably bruises all over his chest. Not that would’ve deterred the groupies from trying to touch his dick anyways, Okuyasu had theorized on the way to Josuke’s house (Josuke had insisted on driving and went extra slow in fear that he would fuck up Oku’s baby), so Keicho couldn’t be too sore at him for long.

Instead of pushing the matter any further, Josuke took to wrapping Oku’s knuckles, “Tell me if I’m not doing this right.”

“Wrap it a little tighter, and you’ll be aces.”

After he finished, Josuke got up and took an ice gel pack out of his fridge. Thank God Polnareff had insisted he buy one a few months ago, “I’ve been in a fair amount of fights, but that’s the first time I’ve ever had to bandage someone else’s hands.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Okuyasu flexed his fingers, pleased with how the bandages felt, “You did good kid, I used to wrap ‘em up like this when I did bare knuckle boxing matches.”

Josuke walked back over to him, cold compress wrapped in a dishtowel, “You used to box?”

Okuyasu winced as Josuke pressed it to his right cheek, “Yeah, I did underground fights for money. Helped rent out the studio when we recorded our first demo.”

“That’s unsurprising,” Josuke sat on the edge of his table so he could hold the pack to Oku’s face without getting too tired, “You still box?”

“Nah, not really. When I hit the gym, I just beat on the punching bag instead. Keicho’s good practice too,” he snorted. Josuke rolled his eyes; Okuyasu yawned and then gave him a lazy smile, “Josuke, why am I so sleepy right now?”

Josuke peered down at him, eyebrows raised, “Oh, I don’t know. Could it have been the fact that you just played a show in a cramped, hot bar, and then got into a fist fight with your older brother?”

“You may be onto something, boss.” Okuyasu exhaled, closing his eyes and pressing his face slightly into the cold pack. After a few minutes of quiet, he spoke softly, “I know I said this earlier, but m’really glad you came tonight…meant a lot to me…I ain’t never had a friend who actually cared enough to come to a show jus’ for me.” Okuyasu raised his bandaged right hand and placed it over the hand that held the compress to his face, rubbing circles into the skin, “Thanks.”

Josuke does the stupidest thing he has ever done in his entire 24 years of living: he leans over and kisses Okuyasu right on the mouth.

It feels like time stopped before Josuke pulls away. Okuyasu’s eyes are wide open, face glowing red like he has a sunburn. He stands up, startled, “I—I gotta go, I-“ he’s tripping over himself, the chair, and hightails it out of the front door.

Josuke’s brain takes a minute to grind back into motion, and he runs after Oku, “Wait! Dude I’m—“

By the time he gets outside, he can make out Oku’s taillights buzzing down the road.

He stands on his front porch for a long time, staring out into the street, hoping, begging to see Oku’s car return. For him to jump out of his car and holler, “IT’S JUST A PRANK, BRO” before bounding up the steps to return Josuke’s kiss with gusto.

Rain starts falling, and Josuke remains rooted the spot. Dimly, he registers that he is now soaked to the bone, and Okuyasu was not coming back. He did it. He ruined his friendship, because he couldn’t fucking help himself. He couldn’t just be satisfied with how things were.

In a numb haze, Josuke walks back inside, closing the door and locking it behind him with a soft click. He turns the shower on the hottest setting he could stand, sits in the floor as hot water pours all over him, and just trembles.

When the water runs cold, he finally steps out. Mechanically, Josuke pulled on some old sweats and his favorite t-shirt. He can’t bear to look at his bed, let alone sleep in it, knowing that it was bound to smell like Okuyasu, and that was something he couldn’t even begin to handle.

The couch it was. Josuke checked his phone, hoping to have missed a call or text from Oku, but nothing greeted him; he turned it off and threw it across the room. Curled up under a blanket, he listened to the rain pelt the windows, and finally allowed himself to cry.

Something was banging against the front door.

Josuke jerked awake, feeling awful. It took a few seconds for his brain to process where he was, and when he remembered, he had to quickly wipe his tears. He had to keep it together.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Josuke mumbled to no one, cocooning himself in his blanket. The banging was incessant; Josuke figured it was a drunk Tamami who had forgotten his key to Josuke’s front door back at his apartment. It was something that occurred more regularly than it should. As he passed the entrance to the kitchen, the oven’s clock blared the time: 3:24 am. He was going to murder whoever it was.

He unlocked the front door and jerked it open, ready to snarl something at whomever made the mistake of waking him up, when he came face to face with Okuyasu.

Oku looked fucking awful. Soaked to the bone with chattering teeth, red-rimmed puffy eyes; it made Josuke die a little on the inside to see him in such a sorry state, “Jesus Christ Oku, how long have you been out here??” Josuke reached to pull him inside, but Okuyasu smacked his hand away. Tears threatened, and anger rose up inside him like bile, “Why did you come back?” he asked, placing his head into his hands so Okuyasu couldn’t see his face. After what feels like an eternity stretches on, Josuke half-contemplates just slamming the door closed, so Okuyasu would be spared the trouble of having to devastate Josuke anymore.

“Kiss me again.”

Slowly, Josuke lowered his hands to look Oku in the face. He could see that Okuyasu was crying, tears running hot down his scared face. “I’m sorry for leavin’, I’m sorry for runnin’. I’m a fuckin’ idiot fool,” the words burst out of Okuyasu like a dam had broken, “You’re the most perfect thing on this stupid planet, I’ve been crazy over you ever since we first met. I didn’t know if you were makin’ fun of me or somethin’ when you kissed me, so I got scared and ran, but I just ended up making you upset, which is—“ His breath started hitching and he was crying even harder, “The last thing— I ever w-wanna do is hurt y-y-you. Y-you m-mean everyth-thing to me.”

Josuke also had tears running down his face; he pulled Oku into a tight hug and ran his fingers through his hair, shushing him softly, “It’s okay, don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry,” he wailed, face buried into Josuke’s neck, “Please forgive me, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I forgive you, it’s okay. You came back.”

“It’s not okay,” Okuyasu pulled himself away to look Josuke in the eyes, “I hurt you.” Hesitantly, he wiped the tears off of Josuke’s face. Josuke couldn’t stop himself anymore; he pressed his lips against Okuyasu’s. This time, his kiss was returned enthusiastically, and it made Josuke’s very soul sing. Taking great care to not trip over something, Josuke lead Okuyasu into the house without breaking their kiss, closing the door behind him. Josuke couldn’t get enough of how Okuyasu tasted; the kisses were sweet, chaste, and everything Josuke imagined it would be like.

“Do you wanna stay the night?” Josuke murmured against Oku’s lips.

“Yeah, if that’s okay with you.”

Josuke pulled away and kissed the tip of Okuyasu’s nose, took his hand, and led him upstairs.

After Okuyasu’s quick shower, they found themselves tangled up in each other’s limbs, kissing just as slow and gently as before. “Hey Josuke,” Okuyasu’s whispered, voice raspy.

“Yeah?”

“M’really tired and stuff,” Oku stifled a yawn, “so I dunno if we should talk about this now or—“

Josuke brushed a thumb across Oku’s cheek, “I think we should wait until tomorrow morning, after we get some sleep. Okay?” He pressed a kiss onto Okuyasu’s forehead, which turns warm underneath his lips.

“’Kay,” he mumbled, pressing his hot face into Josuke’s neck, “Uhm, I do got one question though, and I don’t wanna wait to ask.”

Josuke pulled back to look him in the face, “Yeah, what’s up?”

Okuyasu was blood red, looking rather meek. “Are we boyfriends now?” he asked softly, as if he scared to hear a rejection.

Butterflies had taken up permanent residence in Josuke’s stomach, and it was taking everything in him to not start wiggling around like an excited puppy, “Do you want us to be boyfriends?”

He got an enthusiastic nod in reply; Oku was too shy to say it out loud, but he did grab one of Josuke’s hands so he could kiss his knuckles.

A grin spread across Josuke’s face, “I guess that makes us boyfriends then.”

The smile that lit up Okuyasu’s face would be one that Josuke wanted tattooed to the inside of his mind, so he could remember it forever.

The slow, lazy kisses they traded relaxed him enough that sleep was moments away. Faintly, before succumbing, Josuke was certain he heard “I love you” whispered into his ear.