#gotta brush the dust off the tag

[basslinegrave]

old man acquired

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You've had a crush on your best friend for years, but you're slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: please enjoy the first chapter!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“No, no, not the pink, red,” you cup your hand over your ear pod, “exactly what it says on the order sheet.” 

Were anyone to see you, sitting in the dirt, with a brush in hand, all alone, they might think you’re a bit out there. You, talking to the air, dusting off a clump of soil, orchestrating your own voice with the bristles. You dip your head as you focus on what the voice in your ear is saying. 

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” you argue, “I put in the order weeks ago. A red bow. I have the receipt– I mean sure, pink or red doesn’t matter to me but it’s not my birthday.” 

“We’ll see what we can do,” the woman relents. It’s not exactly a triumph but as close to as you can hope. If it’s pink, you’ll just have to take the fall. The damn fondant will be devoured by the night’s end anyhow. 

You hang up with a double tap on the ear pod and your playlist resumes. You go back to trying to uncover the shape caked in layers of muck, turning the brush to chip away the rougher bits with the pointed tip. The work is tedious but it has to be. You can’t risk damaging the relic nestled inside. 

The abrupt chiming of your ringtone once more sounds through the bluetooth earpiece. You huff and hit the pod with the heel of your hand. You greet the call with only your name. 

“Are you still on site?” Your boss, Arturo asks. 

“Yep, still here,” you still your hand and twist your arm, pulling back the end of your glove to see your watch, “just a bit longer. You know I have that thing tonight.” 

“Uh, yes, I recall,” he says dully as you hear paper shuffling, “you got time to chat?” 

“Sure,” you keep the cluster of dirt and the brush in one hand and use your other to push yourself to your feet, “I just gotta catalogue this before I finish the day.” 

“Well, I have good news and bad news,” he begins as you carefully walk between the cordoned off patches. The whole place is a maze of where and where not to step. You go into the tent and put down the half uncovered idol. It’s brittle, made of hide and yew, with a bit of bone. “Lucia is pregnant.” 

“Oh? That’s great,” you furrow your brow, wondering what that has to do with you. 

“Means she can’t travel for a while. She’s adverse to long term commitments at the moment so…” 

“So…” you trail off as you label the mound of dirt and make notes for the next day. 

“So, you want her assignment?” 

“Which one?” You peel off your gloves and shake off the excess filth. 

“Norway. It can be a bit dingy but the landscape is nice.” 

“Norway? For how long?” You close up the ledger and tuck it away on the shelf. You pass between the tables of artifacts as you pull out your phone. 

“Could be a while but I figured you never get to go very far. You’ve been pent up in-state for so long, you could use the vacation.” 

“Oh? Well, I…” you scroll through your phone and see the notifications. Emails confirming delivery, messages asking if everything is sorted. “I’d have to think about it…” 

It’s evasion more than indecision. You know you don’t want to go. You can’t go. Your whole life is here. You have an apartment and friends and… Steve. Your best friend.  

“Make sure you do think about it. It’s a great opportunity. Especially for a junior anthropologist. Lucia won’t be on leave forever.” 

“I know. I’ll think about it.” 

You hang up and pluck the earbud out. Ugh, you’re covered in dirt and dust. You don’t have time to go home and shower. You knew you wouldn’t. You have to be at the venue before everyone else. You can change there and try to wash up in the sink. Whatever, no one’s going to be looking at you anyway. It’s Peggy’s night. Yay. 

You lock the fence and tug one last time to make sure it’s secure. You drag your boots across the thinning grass to your car parked on a stretch of gravel. You drop inside and hit start. You connect to the bluetooth and get some tunes going. You buckle your seat belt as you check the mirrors. You’re probably going to have to speed there. 

You back out as the music blares from the speakers. It’s not loud enough to drown out your thoughts. Why did you agree to this? Peggy doesn’t even like you. Oh, but she likes Steve. She is his girlfriend and you are only his best friend. You’re supportive. You keep your mouth shut and smile. 

Ugh. You squeeze the wheel until your knuckles hurt. You know why you offered to help plan the surprise. You’re pathetic but you’re not delusional. It meant you got more time with him. There hasn’t been much of that since Peggy came along, not just the two of you. 

Classic, isn’t it? In love with your best friend. Friends since college. Friends forever, you vowed naively, thinking that forever would never come. Nothing lasts that long, you can only hope to outlast Peggy. 

And if you don’t, maybe this crush will finally run its course. 

💟

Red and white streamers decorate a long table set with trays. There’s a banner over it that reads ‘Happy Birthday, Peggy’, and a stack of gifts already forming in the corner. Guests drift in with anticipation as you hurry around to check off all the items on your list. 

You fix a small vase of flowers, trying to hide the droopy one in the back, and tug a wrinkle out of a tablecloth. You smile and wave at those who are early as you weave between them. You pull out your phone and lean it on the clipboard angle in the crook of your elbow. They’re on their way, okay. Keep it cool. 

As you come to the kitchen door, you nearly collide with someone else. Sam touches your arm gently as he keeps you from tripping backward. You gasp and hug the clipboard with a wobbly grin. 

“Hey,” you greet breathily, “you’re here.” 

You look down at the guest list and check him off. 

“Ah, figured I’d make an appearance,” he kids, “Rogers would take it pretty rough if his best pal wasn’t here.” 

“Please, don’t start that with Bucky again,” you warn as you point the pen in his direction, “the two of you, in fact, are seated separately.” 

“No fun!” He whines dramatically. 

You scrunch your lips at him and peer around. Yes, none of this has been fun. Caterers, servers, tables, space, food! Yes, you were going to check on the cake. Your sole squeaks as you twist sharply and go to slam your hand into the door. 

“Hey,” Sam blocks your way with his arm, “before you disappear, you’re still wearing your boots.” He points to your feet, “in case you’re wondering about the snail trail.” 

He sweeps his finger up in a gesture alluding to your previous path. You glance over at the dirt littered in your stead then down at your dusty boots. You sigh and hang your head back. 

“Fuck!” You snarl. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll find a broom,” he assures you, “while you take a breath. You need it.” 

“I can’t, Sam, they’re already on their way. I still have to get everyone in their place and… quiet,” you scowl, “ugh, this is gonna be so bad. I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“So… why’d you do it?” He asks as he drags his hand away from the doorframe. You look at him and blink slowly. You shrug. 

“I’m a good friend,” you insist. 

He gives a skeptical hum and nods, “sure are,” he grumbles, “too good, if you ask me.” 

You throw up your hand before turning into the kitchen. You don’t have time to worry about him. Is he jealous that you’re helping Steve so much? Or does he know something else? You don’t let the seed sprout as you nearly cry out at the sight of the cake. 

A pink bow. Jeez. Of course. You check the cake off your list, nearly tearing through the paper. It’s better than nothing, even if Peggy never settles for less than the best. 

There’s no time to complain or send it back. Your phone vibrates again. Five minutes. Your heart is racing. Why? This isn’t even your party. You just want it to be perfect for Steve. You hate to disappoint him. Ever. 

You really shouldn’t care that much but you do. Like so many other things in your life. 

💟

The crowd can't keep quiet. There's a low buzz that ripples through the guests. A wave of anticipation that's spread like a deadly virus. 

You feel a nudge in your side and peek over as Bucky sends Sam a sneer and wriggles in place. Those two never let up. You hiss at them to quit and they look as guilty as a pair of unruly children. 

"He keeps tickling me," Bucky whispers. 

"No, I'm tryna fix his hair, look at this mess," Sam flicks a strand away from Bucky's cheek, "this is a nice event, Buck, not your living room." 

"Both of you," you warn.  

"You're bitching at me when Indiana Jones here brought the dig with her," Bucky mutters. 

You look down. Dammit. You still didn't change out of your boots. You roll your eyes. It's not about you. It's Steve's night. Er, Peggy's.  

You shake out your nerves and shake your head, "you two," you step behind Bucky and insert yourself between the men, "behave." 

"Yes, mom," Sam snickers as Bucky groans and tries to smooth the few shanks that have slipped free of his low ponytail. 

You exhale and give an exasperated look to the door. You really can't handle them on top of everything else. You just want this night to end already. All your hard work and you won't even get to enjoy any of it. 

"Everybody," Natasha hisses as she runs away from the doorway, "they're coming." 

The group quiets, as much as they can, a collective bated breath as you wait and listen. The lull is unbearable as the heat of the bodies around you pricks sweat down your neck and across your scalp. The door begins to open, almost as if in slow motion, and as the guest of honour is revealed, you cry out. 

"SURPRISE!" The eruption of the chorus has your head spinning as Peggy gives a melodramatic swoon, grabbing at Steve's arm as she leans on him heavily. 

She parts only to fan her eyes and squeal. "Oh my god, you guys!"  

She teeters on her heels as people holler happy birthday and her group of girlfriends flutter over to wrap her up in a cacophony of giggles and preening. You smile, a bittersweet twitch in your cheek as you watch her spin back to Steve and pull him into a kiss.  

You're happy for them really, proud to see all your effort come to fruition, but you just feel so hollow. For an instant, you think it should be you right there, gushing in glee over the celebration of another year, with Steve beside you.  

You gulp down the jealousy and wiggle your nose to ward away the tears. That's a stupid thought. If it hasn't happened in more than a decade, it's not going to happen now. 

💟

As the guests disperse into their own conversations, you finally manage to wade through to the happy couple. You approach with a small wave at Steve. He doesn't see you, he's watching Peggy as she chats with Natasha. 

"Hi," you call above the din, "so, you like it?" 

Steve turns to you, confusion stitching his forehead before he registers your questions. He nods and gives a smile, "it's amazing, you did so good!" 

The sparkle in his eyes, the perfect line of his jaw, the way he's looking at you, it makes your heart rend. You tilt your head and dig your toe into the floor bashfully, "thanks. I'm so happy to see it come together." 

"Um, the cake," he brings his index finger up, "I was hoping to bring it out soon." 

"Er, yeah, it's back in the kitchen. About that–" 

"Great," he claps your shoulder and brushes by you, "just gonna put the finishing touches on it." 

"Hm, what do you–" 

He's gone before you can finish your question. You deflate just a little, setting your feet flat as you sway aimlessly. The motion hooks Peggy's attention. You give a sheepish smile as you wring your hands. 

"Oh, uh, just came over to wish you a happy birthday," you chirp, "are you enjoying it?" 

"Ah, I didn't see you here, I thought maybe you were busy…" she gives a pointed look to your boots, "working." 

"Um, yeah, no," you fidget, "always happy to come support you two." 

"Where is Steve?" She gazes past you, shouldering by dismissively, "he was just…." 

Right. You nod and flit away in embarrassment. You can't say you ever got along with Peggy. Where you're accommodating, she's a bit too demanding. Different people, but you don't dislike her. You just don't mesh. Or perhaps it's just that you don't get what Steve sees in her. Especially when you're right there. 

Enough. This isn't about you or your stupid dumb heart. Just smile and go with it. 

The kitchen door swings open, a noise barely discernible above the hue, and the rattling wheels of a cart underline the steady drone. A lull washes over the crowd as they part. You move with the tide and face the sudden divide. 

A hush falls over the room as Steve pushes the cake across the floor. He stops before Peggy as she faces him, another feigned pout of surprise. He grins proudly at her as you stare curiously at the top of the cake. 

"Oh, pink?" She comments on the fondant bow as her eyes flick over to you. She quickly corrects herself an admires the double tiered dessert, "Steve, it's so pretty." 

You know she hates the colour. You recall the one time you wore a pink bow in your hair and she made a similar comment. Cute, she remarked in her roundabout way in her oh so sophisticated accent. 

You manufacture a smile and step closer as Steve beckons to the guest. Tension stills the air, almost paralyzing the crowd. You squint at the heart shaped box perched atop the bow. 

"Is this for me?" Peggy asks if it's not obvious. 

Steve nods, his cheeks tinting pink, as you notice how he wipes his palms on his pants. Peggy delicately takes the box from the pedestal of fondant and your ribs ache from the pounding of your heart. You curl your fingers until your nails dig into your skin as you watch him kneel beside her. 

She doesn't notice as she opens the box on its hinges. Her lips part and she stares at the contents. She looks over at Steve to find him on his knee and she claps her hand over her mouth. Her eyes gleam as she whimpers his name through her fingers. 

The scene hazes behind your tears as you stare wide eyed. Your ears ring as Steve's voice is dulled by your shock. 

"Margaret Elizabeth Carter," Steve's timbre warble just a bit, "will you make me the happiest man on earth?" 

You don't wait for her answer. You already know it. It's the very same you give in every outlandish dream you've ever had of your happy ending. You spin and storm through the crowd, blind with horror and self-pity. 

Surprise! Your whole world is crashing into pieces. 

[alloftheimagines]

joel miller | left behind

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

words: 2.9k

warnings: angst, angst, angst. so much angst. ep two spoilers. tess's death. grief. loss. infected stuff. reader is tess's younger sister. age gap. more angst. so much angst. slightly violent reader.

synopsis: in which joel honours a promise he made to tess that means he must force reader to leave your infected sister behind in boston. resentment and a bit of hurt/comfort ensues as you head to frank and bill's.

sibling!tess x reader, reader x joel, little bit of reader x ellie

tags: @sweetbabygirlsworld

“Holy shit. She’s infected.”

You didn’t think the world could fall apart twice, but you look at Tess as Ellie's words settle in and realise you were wrong. Here you are again, losing everything. This time, you don’t know if you can survive. 

“Tess…” you whisper, shaking your head slowly. “No. No. No.” 

Beside you, Joel is deadly still. He looks at your sister with such detachment that you want to scream. This is Tess. Fucking Tess. 

But you know him. You know he’s good at switching off when things get tough. Not like you. You wear your heart on your damn sleeve, and you can’t fucking do this. You look at her again, heart breaking. You feel every tear, every shard slipping through your ribcage. Tess is motionless — resigned. She wears sadness, but no fear. None anybody but you can see, anyway. You grew up with her. You can see the fading light in her eyes in a way the others won’t. 

And you don’t know what to do.

“Let me see it,” Joel orders quietly.

“Joel…” Tess pleads. 

“Show me,” he growls. 

Bitterly, she tears down the collar of her shirt, revealing the infection blossoming across bruised veins. Your knees threaten to buckle, nausea rising in your throat. 

“No.” Tears slip down your cheeks, and you’re already searching the room again for some hint the Fireflies might have left, some sign that it won’t end like this. “No. The girl is a cure. If we can just—”

Tess is saying your name. You’re not listening. If you listen, it will be real. If you listen, you will have to say goodbye to the only family you have left. 

“Joel,” she’s saying now. “This kid… this kid is real, okay? You gotta get her, get them both, to Tommy’s. He’ll know where to go, what to do.”

“No. No, I’m not doing that,” he replies. 

You’re still rattling around, searching old papers and nooks for something, anything; as though you’ll find a miracle in the shadows. 

“If not for the kid then for her.” Tess’s voice rises. You squeeze your eyes shut, your back turned to her. “She needs you, Joel. This is the end of the road for me, but you need to keep going. Promise me."

“I’m not leaving you here!” you shout, throwing the first thing you find against the wall. It smashes to dust. “We’ll find a way out of this, Tess. We always fucking do. Let’s just stop and figure it out!” 

“There is no figuring it out.” Tess marches over to you, gripping your face in her hands. You try so hard to fight it, so hard to stay in denial, but you look at her drawn face and know she’s already half-gone. You know the worry furrowing her brows isn’t for herself, but for you. For what will happen to you now. She practically raised you, toughening you up or else cradling you through the bad nights, never any in between. It made you both strong and so unbearably weak. Not like Joel, who has never let anything touch him. 

You choke on a sob and close your eyes. “Please, Tess. Please. This can’t be it. I need you.”

“I need you. I need you to be safe. I need you to keep going. Please, sweetheart.” She softens, brushing the tears from your eyes. “Please. For me.”

“No—” 

The sound of moans and the shuffling of uneven footsteps interrupt your protest. Joel goes to the window and curses, readying his gun. “Infected. Shit tonne of ‘em. We gotta go.”

You grab Tess’s wrist without thinking. “Come on.”

But she slips out of your grasp, stepping away from all of you. Ellie has tears in her eyes, but she says nothing, looking for the first time not to Tess or Joel, but to you. 

“I can buy you some time, but you have to run. You have to go,” Tess whispers. 

You shake your head again, ferociously this time. “No. No, I’m not leaving. If you stay, I stay.”

She snaps her head away. “Joel. Get her out of here.”

You fight back a bitter scoff, fists curling at your sides — but then hands lock around your arms, nudging you away. “Come on," Joel grunts. "We have to go. Now.”

The betrayal stings. This is fucking Tess. Of all people, he should want to help her. He shouldn’t be giving up on her. 

You snarl, “Fuck you if you think I’m going anywhere!” 

He doesn’t let up, face carved from stone. “We can’t stay,” he hisses, ducking his head to meet your eye. “You want us all to die?” 

“You go! I’m not—”

“Now, Joel!” Tess is yelling. “Get her the fuck out of here now!”

He swears under his breath again and then his arms are like a vice around your waist, your feet lifting from the floor as he drags you away, kicking and screaming. 

“No!” You’re shrieking now, vocal cords ripping apart as you try to reach for your sister. "Tess!"

But she doesn’t reach back. She turns away, and you know with certainty it’s the last time you’ll see her face. 

“Tess, please!” Sobs erupt from you, and you fight harder now, but Joel is too strong, too broad, too heavy-handed to let you go. “Please! Please! Let me go! Let me stay with her! She's my fucking sister, Joel!” 

The fresh air hits you all at once. One moment you’re there, watching your sister get smaller and smaller as infected scratch and rattle the doors, and then you’re back in the rubble of the drab city, the gold dome of Massachusetts State House dwindling. 

And then exploding.

As your feet finally hit the floor and you try to nudge Joel away, the earth cracks with black smoke and you’re thrown to the ground. Joel’s warmth shields you, and you feel Ellie trembling at your side. 

Silence blankets you like ash. It takes a moment for your brain to comprehend it. Any of it. 

You shove Joel to look back at the State House. The building that is no longer a building, just debris and fire. 

The building where your sister was standing not a moment ago. 

“No.” You say the word differently now. Softer. Devastation pierces through it, through you. She’s gone. Tess is gone. 

“Darlin’...” Joel puts his hand on your shoulder and squeezes, and fury sparks through you. 

“You did this!” you scream, hitting his chest again, and again and again. “You took away my choice!” Because the truth is, you would sooner have died in there with Tess than carry on without her. “You took away my fucking sister!” Because he’d gotten her into the jobs, the smuggling. He’d done all of this. 

Joel doesn’t react, barely even budging as you slam into him. His jaw is set, trembling, throat bobbing, and finally he catches your hands and locks his fingers around your wrists. “Look at me.” 

You can’t. You can’t look at him, or anywhere else. You want to vomit. You want to disappear. 

Instead, your chin wobbles and your ribcage opens up and everything pours out of you as you wail. 

He catches you as you sink to the ground, pulling you to his chest, and you’re too weak to push him away now. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair, rocking you gently. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart. There was nothing else we could do. Nothing else I could do. But look at me. Please look at me.” He grips your jaw just as Tess had, and you flinch. You hate him. You fist his shirt between your fingers and you want to destroy it, destroy everything around him. 

Except you don’t. He’s all you have left, and the realisation makes you numb. Joel fucking Miller is the only goddamn person you have. 

You do as he asks. You look at him. 

“She bought us time," he says. "We can’t waste it now. Do you understand? We can grieve her later, but right now, we gotta go. We have to get up and keep going. For Tess.”

You hate that he’s right most of all. As you begin to shut down, shock taking over, you look back at the smoking State House and stand. And then you clutch Joel’s collar and bare your teeth. 

Ellie stumbles towards you, eyes round with fear, but you’ve lost the will to care about her presence. You’ve lost everything today.

“Don’t you fucking say her name again,” you snap. “You lost that right. I blame you. I blame you for who she became, who we’ve all become.”

Anguish curls across Joel’s features, but you refuse to feel guilty. You let him go roughly and grab your backpack off the floor, the same one you’d clutched during the outbreak just after you’d watched your parents get savaged by your infected neighbours, Tess dragging you to safety. You’d been thirteen years old, and your sister had gotten you through hell and back, that night and every other one that came after. 

“It shouldn’t have ended like this,” you whisper into the wind, swallowing your own tears. 

It’s the last moment you allow yourself to have, and then you wipe your damp cheeks and glare down at Joel again. 

“Get up. Let’s go.”

He does, looking winded as he rises from his knees to his feet. You allow him to lead the way only because he knows the city, knows his way around, far better than you did. Tess rarely let you do jobs out of the QZ, protective until the bitter fucking end. 

You wish more than anything you could have protected her. 

***

You don’t get the chance to catch your breath again until you get to Bill and Frank’s — which is empty. You never met them yourself, but you know Tess warmed to them, so to find them dead too… it feels like the last piece of good in the world is truly gone. You slump onto their couch still wrapped in numbness as Joel and Ellie gather supplies, reluctant to so much as look at you. Later, you hear them talking about showering, and Ellie thumps up the stairs, leaving the place quiet. You should wash, too. You should eat, drink, prepare for whatever comes next, but you can’t move. Can’t do anything. 

After minutes, or perhaps hours, of silence, Joel kneels in front of you with a plate of food. “You need to eat, darlin'. I know it’s hard, but you have to.”

You hate him calling you that. He never used to call you that. He barely addressed you at all, stubborn, grumpy old man he is. But he’s been family for a long time, and the three of you… 

You got by together. Until now. 

You glance down at the food and your stomach turns. 

“Please,” he whispers, voice cracking. It surprises you, that vulnerability bleeding into his words — and it seems to surprise him too, by the look on his face. You’ve never seen him like this. Not once. 

You take a bite for that alone. It’s dry in your mouth, and you find it hard to swallow, so you push the rest away. He sighs and puts it down on the coffee table, swapping the plate for his flask. You take a swig, whiskey burning like vinegar in your throat. 

“If I talk,” he asks, “will you listen?”

“No,” you answer honestly. “No, I don’t feel much like listenin’, Joel.”

Still, he takes your hand. You glare at your intertwined fingers but make no move to pull away. Perhaps part of you still needs to be coddled, taken care of the way Tess might have.

And maybe you need to know you’re not alone. That he isn’t going to give up on you the way he so easily did with Tess. Which is sick, you know, but you’ve never much been able to help the way you feel about him. The way you have always wanted to peel away his layers and understand him. Tear away his self-hatred, guilt, grief, for whatever horrors he faced before. 

“I didn’t want this. Not for Tess and sure as hell not for you.”

“I told you,” you bit. “I told you not to say her name.”

“I made a promise to her a long time ago.” He continued as though you hadn’t spoken, his brown eyes pleading. “I promised that if something happened to her, I would always protect you. That’s what I did today. I was honouring that promise, and honouring your sister. If you need someone to blame, someone to hate, if that makes it easier, go ahead. But don’t think for a second that this was a choice I wanted to make. I cared about her. I care about you. And even if I have to drag you kickin’ and screamin’, I’m getting you to Wyoming, to Tommy. You and I still have a job to do.” Slowly, as though unsure how you’ll react, he tucks your hair behind your ear. “That kid needs us, but we need her a hell of a lot more if the cure is real. And I… I need you. I need you here with me, safe. I ain’t losing another…”

He bows his head, words thickening.  “I ain’t going back on my promise to Tess, so you can make it difficult as you like. You can never lay your damn eyes on me again. But I’m getting you through this.”

A tear drips down your cheek, your entire body trembling as the sorrow, the grief, finally takes over. 

“Oh, baby,” Joel whispers, voice full of the same loss, the same pain. 

A whimper escapes you as you put your head in your hands. You can’t even hate him now, because you can imagine your martyr of a sister asking Joel to do just that. To protect you above all else. Still, you despise it — despise that your choices were taken away, your voice ignored. 

“I should have been with her,” you say. “She shouldn’t have died alone.”

“She died knowing you were being taken care of.” He squeezes your knee with rough hands. “She died knowing she saved us. It’s the best anyone could’a done. I wish it could have been different.”

“I don’t know how to do this without her,” you admit, because how can you keep it all in? All the love you had for her, all that grief… where will you put it when it’s spilling out of you without warning? 

“That’s something we’ll figure out,” Joel responds. He’s drawing circles into your lower thigh now, the pad of his thumb wearing down your denim jeans slowly. Wearing you down slowly. “You should take a shower then see about finishing your food. That hot water… it’ll help. And I won’t be mad if you use it all before I get my turn.” He offers you a small smile.

But you can’t imagine anything ever helping. You close your eyes, sinking back into the couch. “In a minute. I just need…” You don’t know what you need. If you’re being honest, you need Tess. 

As though knowing it, Joel rises, the couch cushions dipping with his weight beside you. He lets out a soft sigh, fidgeting with his fingers. You feel the weight of his gaze on the side of your face. 

A moment later, he’s draping a blanket over you, and your lids flutter open again in confusion. 

“S’okay,” Joel says. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you when it’s time to go.”

You don’t need to be told twice. But when you try to nod off, you only see Tess burned on the inside of your eyelids. Her face the last time you saw it. The bite. Her pleas for you to go.

You give up quickly, aware Joel is still beside you, unmoving. It isn’t like him to not be moving. 

Rubbing your face, you sit up, pushing the blanket off. “Joel…”

“Hmm?”

“Blaming you... it doesn't make it fucking easier. I understand why you did what you did, even if I don’t like it. But if you ever take away my choice again… I won’t go on with you. I can’t. I know you and Tess still see me… saw me,” you correct with a wince, “as a kid, but I’m not. Not anymore. And I sure as hell ain’t your responsibility.”

“I don’t see you as a kid,” he says quietly. “And I don’t see you as my responsibility, either. Honestly?” He purses his lips, tapping on the arm of the couch before he continues, “I see you as the only damn thing worth going out of my way to protect. Make of that what you will. Just… don’t expect me to let you die if that’s your choice. I can’t do that. I won’t do that. I won’t apologise for it, either.”

You’re not sure what to say to that; what it means. Why Joel, of all people, is the one to say it. You always thought he and Tess… 

“Why? That promise mean so fucking much?”

“Yeah." He looks at you as though for the first time. "Yeah, it does."

You don’t have the energy to wonder what it means anymore. Instead, you pull yourself up on unsteady feet. Your mind is racing, and that shower is sounding better as reality sets in. Just in time, Ellie returns with damp hair and fresh clothes. She offers a small, reassuring smile, and you ruffle her hair, feeling guilty that a fourteen-year-old was subjected to everything you went through in Boston. Whoever she is, whatever purpose people want her to serve… she’s just a kid, and you couldn’t hold it together for her today. That makes you a shitty chaperone.

“My turn,” you mumble, glancing at Joel a final, wary time before heading upstairs. His expression doesn’t change, but you see something new in it now. Something strange. 

Something that looks an awful lot like care.

[wobblesthecowgirl]

I'm No O’Driscoll!

Chapter Three: Arthur's Doubts

Tags: Arthur Morgan x Femreader, enemies to lovers, O'Driscoll reader, game plot, Arthur doesn't have tuberculosis, eventual smut, age difference, 18+, mild gore

Word Count: 975

A/N: Sorry for a short chapter! Next chapter is going to be a long one...Lenny, Arthur, and Reader get drunk in Valantine! Comment how you want that to go! I've also changed the layout to see which is preferred.

Chapter One

Chapter Four

Arthur was starting to have doubts about letting both O’Driscoll’s join the gang. On the ride back to camp, he couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of them gunning down those there. Especially her. Where did she learn to shoot like that? She’s too quick.

Luckily, when he arrived, the place was calm and peaceful…or as peaceful as it could be. He scanned for the new members: Kieran was getting some soup from a not so happy Pearson, and then he finally saw her. It was clear the first thing she did as a free woman was have a wash and brush her hair.

Arthur couldn’t deny that she was definitely pretty, but her sour attitude, O’Driscoll past, and constant scowl made him hate her so much that he could look past how beautiful she was. However, when he watched from afar, he saw how she interacted with Mary-Beth: Her eyes were soft, her mouth curled up slightly at the corners, and she was even laughing lightly at times.

For some reason, this only annoyed him further. He strode over towards the two women who were sat on a blanket, looking up at him.

“You behavin’ yourself?” He asked, and there it was. Her famous scowl.

“You’re not going to give me a minute’s peace, are you?”

Now that he was closer, he could see had to look through her long lashes, and she had a small scar along her neck like Javier. Mary-Beth coughed.

“Is there something you need, Arthur?”

He shook his head, “Oh no, I was just making sure our new friend wasn’t giving you any trouble. God knows she gives it out a lot.” The woman shook her head to disagree, putting her book down.

“Not at all! She’s actually pleasant company.”

It was Y/n’s turn to talk, “I’m right here. Which, for your information, I’m a delight when I actually like the person. But, for a strange reason, I don’t like big dumb grunts who shoot me!”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Give it a rest woman. You’re gonna have to get over that one day.”

The wind picked up slightly, making Y/n’s hair flow a little, and he was looking a bit too intently by accident. Mary-Beth stood up suddenly, causing the other two to turn to her. She excused herself, explaining she had chores to attend to, and scampered off. Arthur and Y/n stayed in awkward silence for a few seconds before she finally spoke up.

“Are you going to stand there or say something?”

He narrowed his eyes, staying stood because sitting next to her seemed too friendly, but the awkward pose of her sat looking up at him while he stood above her was just as bad.

“I’m just here to warn you that if you try anything- “

“Oh, give it a rest old man,” She spat as his eyes widened.

“Old man? You gotta be kidding, old man?”

Y/n laughed, tilting her head back slightly at his response. She stood up, dusting off her jeans. Despite being stood up now, she still had to look up. Tiny thing, she is. He asked, “And how old are you exactly?”

“Why? You interested?” She teased… flirted? He couldn’t tell, but he didn’t like either option.

He scowled at her, “Don’t be so cocky, girl. I’m askin’ ‘cos you’re acting like I’m as old as Hosea.”

“I’m in my early twenties, that’s all you’re getting.” She informed him, and for some reason, his stomach dropped. Arthur should’ve guessed she was young, she didn’t look older than thirty, but it still shocked him. Then she asked the same question. He chuckled lightly, looking away from her.

“I’m in my mid-thirties, old enough to be your Daddy.”

“Well, you don’t look a day over fifty.” She smiled sickly, enjoying tormenting the older man.

“Real mature of you.” He scoffed, before turning around without a goodbye. He couldn’t stand talking to her much longer; every single sentence she threw his way only jabbed him more and more, which would cause him to snap eventually. He found himself at Dutch’s tent, who was sat smoking a cigar and lost in thought. When he saw Arthur, his face lit up.

“Arthur! And to what do I owe the pleasure?” He took another puff.

“I just came to talk to you about that O’Driscoll girl.”

Dutch sat up straight, concern on his face, “Is she causing trouble?”

“Not exactly,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “It’s about her aim. When we were at Six Point, I was about to get shot, but she saved me. Put a bullet right between the man’s eyebrows. In seconds. That ain’t normal.”

The music was blaring from inside the tent like it usually did at this time, and Arthur could hear the rest of the members shouting and laughing. It almost drowned Dutch out.

“Where are you going with this, son?” The leader asked. Arthur paused, rubbing his chin.

“My point is, I don’t think she’ll cause trouble, but keep an eye on the guns around here.”

Dutch leaned back into his chair, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

“Or, we could use her to our advantage.” He was already planning something, a new chess piece for his board. Arthur rose an eyebrow and asked, “What you plannin’?”

He nodded his head, thoughts and ideas running through his head, “We are going to get Sean back, having her behind the scenes could be very helpful. Especially in a place like Blackwater.”

“Dutch…” Arthur groaned, “I can’t trust her. She may’ve saved my life, but she probably did it to save her own hide.”

“Well then, sounds like you two need to do a little bonding.” Dutch smirked, taking the final huff of his cigar, as he continued to scheme; much to Arthur’s dismay.

[dangerous-disposition]

52. “What did you do this time?” eddie/jeff 💕💕💕

Thank you so so so much for the request!! This was fun to write.

Please enjoy this little... prequel-ish ficlet for pom!verse 😘 gonna tag @spoookysix @xenon-demon @scarcrossdlvrs and @stobinesque while i'm at it ;p

Jeff barely reacted when Eddie burst into his room and shut the door just barely soft enough to not count as a slam— he’d heard the whirlwind that was his best friend from the moment he pulled up, let alone his thundering footsteps up the stairs. He didn’t even look up from the magazine he was mostly pretending to read, even as Eddie talked a million miles per second about something.

Honestly, all he heard was something about Gareth being an asshole about something, and Jeff knew his input wasn’t needed for this particular story, so he returned his focus to the article he was reading.

Then Eddie flopped down on the bed next to him, crawling up the length of it and settling in against Jeff’s side. Something fluttered in his chest at the closeness, at the steady heat of Eddie’s body against his, but he squashed that all down.

The only way he would be able to stay sane as Eddie Munson’s best friend is if he didn’t also have a crush on him.

“Jeff, you gotta help me,” Eddie whined, pressing his face directly into the center of Jeff’s chest as he flopped over on top of him.

Rolling his eyes and hoping he didn’t feel as hot as his face felt, Jeff asked, “what did you do this time?”

“I just told you, man,” he complained, practically wailed.

“I’m gonna be honest here, Eddie, I kinda tuned you out the second you said ‘Gareth’ and ‘being a whole dick’ in the same sentence,” Jeff sighed, and Eddie’s head whipped up to level a wounded stare at him.

“He was being a whole dick!” Eddie insisted.

“Oh no! Here I go again, tuning you out!” Jeff said dramatically, as if he was being dragged away while he lifted his magazine to start reading again.

“Jeffothy, I’m gonna call Freak my best friend if you keep being so mean,” Eddie pouted, dropping his face back onto Jeff’s chest. “Seriously, I need your help.”

“With what?” Jeff asked with another eyeroll.

There was a long pause, and for a second Jeff thought that Eddie fell asleep on top of him. Then he sighed and mumbled something unintelligible.

“Eddie, you’ve gotta speak up and enunciate,” Jeff sighed, lifting a hand to play with the ends of Eddie’s curly, long hair.

“… I need your help finding Gareth’s drumsticks—”

“Eddie, tell me you didn’t steal Gareth’s sticks and lose them,” Jeff groaned, covering his face with both hands.

“I didn’t mean to fuckin’ lose them! I swear I put them down for like two seconds, and then they were gone!” Eddie insisted, lifting his head to pout prettily up at Jeff. Already, he felt any amount of resolve against helping Eddie melting away. He never could say no to those big brown eyes, even before he had a not-crush simmering under the surface. Then Eddie’s pout got bigger, his eyes practically tearing up as he said, “Pwease hewp me?”

Barking out a laugh, Jeff shoved Eddie away and off the bed. “God, you’re so annoying,” he said lightly as he got up, ignoring the way his stomach squirmed at Eddie’s grin up at him.

“You love me, and you know it,” Eddie said smugly, hopping to his feet and brushing off the imaginary dust on his pants.

“Yeah,” Jeff agreed, smiling a bit wistfully as he followed Eddie out of his bedroom. “Yeah, I do.”

Make Me Write! Accepting more prompts until Sept. 30 @ 11:59 PM MT

[xxsycamore]

𝙏𝙤 𝙂𝙚𝙩 𝙍𝙞𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚

↬ When period cramps are not enough, so you gotta have a headache too... and Theo's fingers happen to know exactly how to deal with those.

Theodorus van Gogh x reader • rating: G • tags: Menstruation; Period Cramps; headache; Massage; Fluff • wordcount:  800 • masterlist

a/n: Another fic for the series! If you happen to suffer from cramps and you want your favorite ikevamp suitor comforting you in their own unique way, I have for you: Napoleon, Comte, Mozart 💕(all fics in this series share the same opening scene)

It’s another beautiful day at the mansion, and the sun is continuing to shine brightly outside as afternoon settles in. Your list of chores is more than half-way done now, the morning was a productive one and you pat yourself on the back for pushing through at your usual pace, even if your period surprised you early this morning. Sleeves rolled up and armed with a feather duster, you march towards the lounge room to take care of another chore.

 Specks of dust dance in the afternoon sun, windows wide open, as you complete your task little by little. Soon the sections left to dust decrease and you start to tire - a minor pain in your tummy appearing as well, as if to persuade you into taking a short break. You throw a look at the grandfather clock. You’ve been a busy bee; not even the distraction of dusting off some of Comte’s highly intriguing antiques couldn’t get you late on your own schedule.

 You sit down at the spacious couch area, grab a throw pillow to hug, and fall on your side - shoe-covered feet juust hanging off the couch because it won’t be worth the effort of taking them off for just a minute or two of rest.

 Uh-oh! The pain doesn’t go away and only gets worse instead. Suddenly moving as much as a millimeter equals signing a death warrant.

 “Help” You whisper to yourself, clutching onto the throw pillow.

***

The thud of the door opening makes you snap out of it, as you peek behind the pillow to see who walked in.

"You lazing around, Hondje?"

Oh. Great.

"Hmhp."

Theo catches the throw pillow before it can come in contact with his face, thus knocking off his fedora. He takes a better look at you, seeing that you're more than just a little agitated.

"Is something the matter?"

Soon you start to regret getting rid of the fluffy barrier between you and Theo, and with nowhere to hide, you slowly rise to a sitting position.

"I had cramps. But I think they grew into a headache instead, so there's that…"

Theo hums in approval, leaving your side just to quickly grab the book he came here for, seemingly in a hurry but not so much as to leave you in that state. He joins your side in shortly.

"Can I do something for your headache?"

"For starters, take off that ugly hat…"

Theo sighs, complying anyway. "Only if you promise it eases your headache."

"Mhm!" You beam at him, albeit with a certain difficulty through the pain, watching him place the gray striped hat on the table. Then Theo goes behind the couch, for some reason.

"Rest your back and relax."

A little curious, you do as told… Theo's fingers are a little cold when they brush locks of hair behind your ears, the left one and then the right, and you struggle to stay still. Then his fingers return to your temples, and remain there, gently pressing.

Even if you forget to relax properly as per his command, it's inevitable at some point. Up till now, you haven't paid much attention to Theo's hands, much less his fingers - and even though you can't grasp them with your vision now, there's a lot to note by touch alone. The way they massage into the skin of your temples, you're able to feel how calloused they are, a result of days after days of hard work at the gallery… images blur and move as if on a film reel behind your closed eyelids: Theo moving large canvases around, Theo shaking hands with clients, Theo taking a step back and clapping his hands together, ready for the next exhibition…

"You have experience with headaches, huh, Theo…"

Theo snorts a short laugh, thumbs continuing to work the aching nerves at the sides of your forehead.

"You learn to take care of it one way or another." Noting your relaxed brows and overall posture lacking its prior tense, Theo strokes your hair back once and then takes his hands off you. "Here you go."

"Wow, it actually worked, so fast at that! Thank you, Theo."

Theo smirks at you, retrieving his hat and aiming for the door.

"I'm going to town again. Do you need something for your period?"

The question gets you off guard; Theo is very considerable today. Kind, even.

"I don't think so, but thank you either way!" You fluff up the little pillow and return it on its place on the couch. The energy in your movements surprises you, and it seems that the cramps have mellowed down along with the headache. You ought to thank Theo more.

"Wait, Theo? I was actually going to do the groceries next. Mind if I come in town with you?"

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @animeworldsposts @randomanimatedhusbandoseeker @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @pro-cat-stination @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @tiny-wooden-robot @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @cilokgoang Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[p3ndeja6]

๑ˊૢᵕˋૢ๑

summary: Peter always known you had a wide variety of music, but only heard the soft music. Until one day he heard music he never thought you’d listen to

Content tags: fluff, light swearing, implied violence, implied sexual acts, slight teasing

tasm!Peter Parker xgn!reader

๑ˊૢᵕˋૢ๑

(real ones know these songs)

——————————————————————————-

Peter was out patrolling early morning, and you were home wondering what to do to kill time. you were currently listening to music, the soft indie music. You were vibing to them until you kept playing the other playlists in your library that were collecting dust

Kept skipping playlists until you stopped at one playlist you didn’t think you’d ever come back to. Something in you sparked up.

it got you up on your feet and straight to the speaker to connect.

beep!

connected

“ignore the hate, ignore the fake, ignore the funny shit, cause if * violate, we got hunnid clips”

you’ve always been a fan of this music but things change, eventually you came back to the music you swore you’d never listen to again

you were singing and shouting, and dancing to the music

all the hype got you cleaning yours and Peter’s shared bedroom

“These bitches love sosa! O end or no end!”

the music really helped you stay on task with the house hold chores

“just got some top from a stripper bitch, she from Kankakee”

at this point you now drifted to the kitchen to clean all while the music still played out

“I’m out here in Miami! Looking for the hoochie daddy’s!”

while the commotion was going on, you heard the keys jingle and you quickly went to the room to turn off the music before peter could fully hear the music and the lyrics.

He opened the door and you stood there out of breath and smiling

He gave you a confused smile

“why are you out of breath?” He laughed

“oh um.. I’ve been cleaning! you know me”

he laughed and brushed off the odd event

you love Peter really, but him knowing you like rap music kind of cringes you, since you both made fun of it often. So him knowing you like it too, he’ll tease you.

the next day

Peter left for work and you again were left at home on your day off

you turned on the speaker, and played your current favorite playlist, and got to cleaning

“Triple homicide, put me in a chair, yeah!”

and this is how you cleaning

bathroom, “she wanna go viral! Keep fuckin’ for hours! That pussy got power! That pussy got power!”

bedroom, “riding through New York, finna go shoot up New Jersey!…. We gon come and blow New Jersey up”

living room, “ I gotta * that fuck me so great! Whenever he wanna eat it, I just put it in his face!”

while singing, you were trying to remember why you stopped listening to this music.

it was character development in all honesty

you were so into the cleaning you didn’t hear the door open.

“Know a little freak in Hollywood, sucks on dick, does it real good!”

as you were rapping these lyrics, dancing, you turned around and met with your boyfriend who had wide eyes at your explicit language and the music choice you chose

you froze and widen your eyes that you were finally caught and you couldn’t deny the truth. You’re heart beating due to the combination of singing, dancing and cleaning.

you grabbed your phone and pressed pause

“who am I dating?” He said in sarcastic disbelief

“awh noo, I didn’t want you to see me like this!” You exclaimed

you were embarrassed, like genuinely

“why?”

“Cmon Pete, aren’t you surprised?”

he paused

“yeah actually, I never knew you listened to this music” he said with a hint of disgust

“well I don’t but I have been recently… I used to like rap music years back but I stopped” you admitted

“and I missed it, this music really gets you pumping and full of energy”

he admired your truthfulness, but still wasn’t convinced this was you

“you keep looking at me as if I’m lying to you” you said

he laughed, “can I be honest, I want to believe you that you like this music but .. I just can’t” he said between giggles

“stop Peter I’m serious, I do like this music”

“right…”

“look click any song from here and I can sing with ease, I swear”

he was skeptical but he did anyway. He intently looked at the titles and see if he can loophole and find a song you don’t know… he was wrong

“ah okay this one!”

he played “X” by 21 savage

you proved him wrong, you do know this song

the song only started a few seconds and you told him the name of it and he stood there in shock

“woah”

“I told you”

a few moments of silence and he started dying of laughter

you knew he wouldn’t let this live down

but now you listen to that music and he has to listen

he would be lying if he didn’t find himself singing along and bumping his head.. but he wouldn’t admit that… ever

๑ˊૢᵕˋૢ๑

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

A Helping Hand

Jake Lockley Rating: PG  Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

A/N: This was written for Enigmatist for the winter exchange. I'd posted it on ao3, but I just realised that I hadn't posted it here.

Set before the events of the show.

Summary: Jake doesn't often get days to himself. But when he does, he likes to make sure that someone is looking out for Marc and Steven.

Warnings: Gotta have some typos in there. Please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 849

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @jake-g-lockley @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @welcometostayingawake @mbakubabe @solobagginses

_________________________________________

Jake woke with a heavy sigh. 

He sat up quickly and flexed his fingers, watching carefully as they moved under his command. 

He swallowed, head cocked to the side as he listened. Silence. Good. 

Steven’s clock on the bedside table said ‘06:13’, which meant that it was ‘05:58’. 

Quickly Jake unbuckled the leg restraint and climbed out of bed. He stretched his back as he stood, his spine popping as he rolled his shoulders, before jumping over the sand circle with a practised ease, and walking over to the far corner.

He crouched, running his thumb over the floorboards for the small nick in the grain, before applying a precise point of pressure. 

There was a satisfying click and thud as the trap door in the middle of the room opened. 

It was a small space, but big enough for Jake to keep his things. 

He hummed as he got ready, taking as much joy as he could in his unscheduled time fronting. 

There was a strict pattern, a balancing act between Steven and Marc that left little for Jake. But, every now and then, there would be one of these quiet days. Time that was seemingly abandoned by the others. Time that was just for him.

He brushed his teeth: his toothbrush was hidden under the bathroom sink, wrapped in a plastic zip sealed bag and tied to a large pipe with brown string. He used Steven’s toothpaste, but Jake didn’t think he’d mind. 

He shaved with Marc’s razor, he preferred it to Steven’s. Jake had used to think that Marc didn’t hide things particularly well, but he’d come to realise in the last few years that perhaps that assumption wasn’t internally fair. It was just that they thought in similar patterns. 

With an acute precision Jake applied his moustache. The movements second nature at this point. 

He searched through the kitchen cupboards, making a quick mental list of what foods he needed to buy before heading out the front door and to the lift. 

There was a rustle of air as he stepped inside, a breeze that he had been waiting for. 

“Hello boss.” Jake said, not bothering to turn to look at where Khonshu had appeared on his left side.

“Jake Lockley, I have a task for you.”

Jake shook his head, his hands in his jacket pockets. “Not today.”

He looked up before the god could answer. 

“It’s my day off.”

Food shopping went quickly, and on his return ride in the lift he helped the nice lady on the third floor with her pram and bags - jamming the lift doors open with his metal lighter so that it didn’t travel off with his purchases.

He put the food away quickly, Steven’s in clear, obvious places, Marc’s in his hidden areas. Jake kept a few things to the side for himself. Packaged foods with long shelf lives. Things he could hide and not worry about.

Next, he scoured the flat. Tidying things away into the places that he knew Steven kept them, hoovering and doing the dishes. He loaded the washing machine, and ironed Steven’s shirts while listening to loud music. Jake hung them carefully in the wardrobe, arranging them by colour - just the way he, and Steven, liked. 

He dusted, and fixed the hook on the wall, he cleaned and tightened the kitchen tap so it was no longer dripping. 

Finally, he checked on Marc’s phone. The old flip one that he hid up in the rafters. It was still there. Still turned off. 

Jake chewed at his bottom lip as he held it in his hand. It would be so easy to turn it on. To listen to Layla’s voice on the countless messages she’d left Marc. 

He missed her. Ached for the comfort her presence always brought. The love that she showed Marc always bled through, reaching him no matter how far away Jake was. Warming him in the cold. 

He could call her.

He could tell her where Marc was. It would be so simple. So easy. She was probably monitoring the phone anyway, would probably know the second it was turned on. All her gadgets and programs to triangulate what phone towers the signal was bouncing from. She would find them so easily.

There was a reason Marc had kept this phone. There was a reason Marc hadn’t thrown it into the ocean, brought another burner and truly severed ties. 

Jake swallowed. He put the phone back. It wasn't his place to interfere like this. It wasn’t his place to turn it on, even though his heart ached to press the button. 

He sighed as he put it away, but, on impulse, he left the false panel slightly ajar. Maybe Marc would see it as a sign to call his wife. Their wife. 

“His wife…” Jake muttered under his breath as he climbed down. His shoulder slumped. 

He tried to straighten his spine. To pull his mood back to sunnier things. 

Jake looked at Steven’s clock. The day was still young. Maybe he could go for a drive.

[maxslibrary]

I see your requests are open

May I request a Frye with a Gender neutral reader doing bandit stuff together?

Doesn't need to be romantic I just wanna spend time with her

Ruins With Rewards (Frye x GN!Bandit!Reader Oneshot)

"HEY Y/N!" Frye yelled from another room, startling you. The yell almost caused you to stumble over some loose boards. You and Frye had started looking around some human ruins. She had found them while scouting around and decided to invite you to tag along. Just for some one on one time. "WHAT IS IT?" You yell back as you walk around, looking around for her. You put a sack of random trinkets you've found in this building so far.

You looked over at Frye as she stood from outside of a room, half of her body still inside. She waved over to you, motioning for you to come close "C'mon I PROMISE it's cool." She smirked. You rolled your eyes as you smiled, a bit of a skip in your step as you walk over to her. As you step, you make sure to avoid anything that'd make you trip. You gently move some pieces of rubble to the side using your feet. You finally make it to the room Frye is in.

What ever it is she sure does look excited. She kneels down and uses her hands to drag a box out of a closet. Once she managed to get it out she brushed off her pants. She looked back at you.

"You gotta see this, Y/N!" she steps to the side, allowing you to inspect the box. You step forward and gently open the box. Inside you see a black and rectangular device. Alongside it was a device with a screen and buttons. It was some sort of ancient human device.

"Whoa... Aren't these those ancient human devices?" You kneeled down and gently picked up the smaller device. You used your other hand to trace the cracks on the screen.

"Yeah! I've only seen them in museums!" She chirped. Frye knelt down at the other side of the box, watching as you placed the smaller device back inside. "Just sitting there.. collecting dust." She smiled as she placed her hand on her cheek.

You chuckle as you close the box "And you aren't gonna be bringing this to one are you?" you kneel down in front of the box. Frye shook her head.

"Want to bring this back home? Shiver and Big Man are gonna have their minds BLOWN!" She made a mind blown motion with her hands. This caused you to laugh a bit "Yeah! Let's get this thing out of here.".

Frye jumped onto her feet and slammed her fist into her palm "Let's do this!" She cheered.

With that you two got ready to move all your findings out of the ruins. With a haul like this, who knows, maybe you'll come back someday!

[the-laridian]

Art Therapy (25947 words) by laridian Chapters: 24/? Fandom: Fallout 76 Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Beckett/Male Resident Characters: Male Resident (Fallout 76), MODUS (Fallout), Beckett (Fallout 76), Original Male Character(s), Sage (Fallout 76) Additional Tags: Diary/Journal, Illustrations, Phobias, Fear of Thunderstorms Series: Part 2 of Ironwood Summary of Chapter 24: Beckett's discovery in the mine proves to be a golden opportunity for both he and Willow.

“Hold the light higher?” Willow peered at the door. “This has gotta be pre-war,” he said. “Maybe it’s someone’s bunker.” “If it is, they haven’t been out this way in years,” Beckett said, as Willow ran his fingers over the edges of the doorframe. “You saw what the boards look like.” “Yeah. ‘Course, whoever’s this is, they might still be in there and just aren’t using this exit.” Willow brushed at the lettering, then scrubbed harder with his thumb at a dark line under it. “I think this… Yeah. It’s a card reader.” “Okay?” “Yeah, see?” Willow pointed. “It’s recessed like that, and with the dirt and crud it just looked like a line.” He dusted off his hands. “I’m gonna go back to the camp and get a few things, and I think I can pop this door open.”

[nucleariguana]

The Lyrics To Every Song In “Mandatory Fun”

My maid is cleaning the bathroom, so I can't take a shower When I do, the water starts getting cold after an hour I couldn't order off the breakfast menu, cause I slept in till two Then I filled up on bread, didn't leave any room for tiramisu Oh no, there's a pixel out in the corner of my laptop screen I don't have any bills in my wallet small enough for the vending machine Some idiot just called me up on the phone, what!? Don't they know how to text? OMG! I got

First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems

I bought too many groceries for my refrigerator Forgot my gardener's name, I'll have to ask him later Tried to fast forward commercials, can't, I'm watching live T.V I'm pretty sure the cookies in this airport lounge ain't gluten free My barista didn't even bother to make a design in the foam on the top of my vanilla latte

First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems

Can't remember which car I drove to the mall My Sonicare won't recharge, now I gotta brush my teeth like a neanderathal The thread count on these cotton sheets has got me itching My house is so big, I can't get WiFi in the kitchen Uh, I had to buy something I didn't even need just So I could qualify for free shipping on Amazon

First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems (First world problems)

First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems

I'm waking up, in Cheeto dust My belly's covered with pizza crust I'm using my inhaler now I'm out of shape, fattening up I'm sipping Coke from a Solo Cup Donut crumbs are upon my lips, whoa

The TV's on, I really hate this show I can't reach my remote control Welcome to my new place, to my new place Sorry it's a cramped space, but it's my place Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, I'm so inactive Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, highly inactive

My muscle's gone, I'm atrophied Always lose my fight with gravity I rest my bones, and just chillax, whoa My NordicTrack's collecting dust And my StairMaster's a pile of rust This is it, The Inertia, whoa

I can't get up, this couch is part of me I'm growing cobwebs on my knee Pretty sad for my age, sad for my age I could break my rib cage, here is my age Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, yes, quite inactive Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, not very active

Near comatose, no exercise Don't tag my toe, I'm still alive

I'm giving up, my energy is shot I'm never moving from this spot Never move from this place, move from this place I'll stay here in this place, right in this place Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, just so inactive Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, not so attractive

Tuesday morning, 8:15 I was riding to work on the Jackson Park Express Seemed like any other day Then my whole world changed In a way I never could have guessed 'Cause she walked in Took the seat right across the aisle I knew we had a special connection The second I saw her smile

She smiled as if to say "Hello, haven't seen you on this bus before" I gave her a look that said "Huh, life is funny, you never know what's in store By the way, your hair is beautiful I bet it smells like raisins"

She looked at me in a way that asked "Did you have a nose job or something? I'm only asking, cause your nose looks slightly better Than the rest of your face" I arched my eyebrow, ever so slightly Which was my way of asking "Do you want my old Hewlett-Packard printer? It still works, kinda And I got a bunch of ink cartridges left"

Then, she let out a long sigh Which, I took to mean, "Uh" "Mama, what is that deodorant you're wearing? It's intoxicating Why don't we drive out to the country sometime? And collect deer ticks in a zip-lock baggie", oh yeah

I gave her a penetrating stare Which could only mean "You are my answer, my answer to everything Which is why, I'll probably do very poorly On the written part of my driver's test"

Yes, it all happened On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express

I knew she was starting to fall for me 'Cause she crinkled her nose, which unmistakably meant "Baby, lets wear each other's clothes And speak in a thick German accent And, maybe someday we can own and operate Our own mobile pet-grooming service" I couldn't hold back my feelings I gave her a look, that said "I would make any sacrifice for your love Goat, chicken, whatever I could never hold you close enough Let's have our bodies surgically grafted together Oh, surgically grafted together"

She picked up a newspaper, and started reading to herself Which I'm sure, was a way of telling me "When you're cold, I will warm you When you're shivering, I will hold you When your nauseous, I will give you Pepto-Bismol every hour For as long as the symptoms persist" Oh, I, I never, ever want to see you cry So, please let me cauterize your tear ducts with an arc welder Then, I glanced down, at her shirt, for a second In a way that clearly implied "I like your boobs"

Yes, it all happened On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express

I cleared my throat quietly, and then, I looked away And I'm sure it was obvious to her, just what I was trying to say I was trying to say, "Hey I'd like to make a wall-sized mural out of all the dead skin cells That you slough off while you sleep at night" Whoa-o-Oh, "I'd like to rip you wide open And french-kiss every single one of your internal organs Oh, I'd like to remove all your skin, and wear your skin, over my own skin But not in a creepy way"

Then, I'm pretty sure, she looked at me, out of the corner of her good eye And, though, she never spoke a word, this is exactly what I heard She was saying, "Oh! I wanna make out with you, in an abandoned toll-booth, in the middle of a monsoon I wanna ride dolphins with you, in the moonlight Until the staff at Sea World kicks us out I want you inside me, oh, like a tapeworm"

I pointed to the side of my mouth, as a way of indicating "Hey, I think you got something on the side of your mouth" She licked the corner of her lips, as if to say "Here?", I nodded, implying, "Yeah, you got it"

And, then the bus stopped, at 53rd Street, and she got up suddenly "Where are you going?", pleaded my eyes, "Baby, don't you do this to me Think of the beautiful children we could have someday We could school them at home, raise them up the right way And protect them from the evils of the world Like Trigonometry and Prime Numbers, oh no Baby, please don't go"

She brushed my leg, as she left the bus I'm sure that was her way of saying "I'm sorry this just isn't working out You're suffocating me I need some space to find out what life's all about So, goodbye forever, my love"

And deep inside, I knew she was right It was time for us both to move on And no, I never got her number, oh no no She never bothered to leave her address, oh But, as long as I live, I'll never forget Those precious moments we shared together

On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express

We must all efficiently Operationalize our strategies Invest in world-class technology And leverage our core competencies In order to holistically administrate Exceptional synergy We'll set a brand trajectory Using management's philosophy Advance our market share vis-à-vis Our proven methodology With strong commitment to quality Effectively enhancing corporate synergy Transitioning our company By awareness of functionality Promoting viability Providing our supply chain with diversity (versity, ooooh) We will distill our identity Through client-centric solutions And synergy (Oooooh oooh oooh)

At the end of the day (At the end of the day) We must monetize our assets The fundamentals of change Can you visualize a value-added experience? That will grow the business infrastructure and Monetize our assets Monetize our assets Monetize our assets

Bringing to the table Our capitalized reputation Proactively overseeing Day-to-day operations Services and deliverables With cross-platform innovation Networking, soon will bring, seamless integration Robust and scalable, bleeding-edge and next-generation Best of breed We'll succeed In achieving globalization

And gaining traction with our resources in the marketplace It's mission-critical to stay incentivized Against this purple-poster-flexible-solutions for our customer base If you can't think outside the box You'll be downsized It's a paradigm shift! (Hey, Hey! Look out!) Well, it's a paradigm shift, now! (Here we go! Here we go! Here we come! Here we come! Ha!)

We clawed, we chained our hearts in vain We jumped never asking why We kissed, I fell under your spell A love no one could deny

Don't you ever say I just walked away I will always want you I can't live a life, running for my life I will always want you

I came in like a wrecking ball I never hit so hard in love All I wanted was to break your walls All you ever did was wreck me Yeah, you wreck me

All the other kids with the pumped up picture You better run, better run, outrun my gun All the other kids with the pumped up picture You better run, better run faster than my bullet

And we danced all night to the best song ever We knew every line, now I can't remember I think it went ooh eh ooh I think it went oohla eh ooh I think it goes eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh

Eh, sexy lady Po, po, po, po Polka Gangnam Style Eh, sexy lady Po, po, po, po Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh

Hey, I just met you And this is crazy But here's my number So call me, maybe And all the other boys Try to chase me But here's my number So call me, maybe

I wanna scream and shout (hey!) And let it all out And scream and shout (hey!) And let it out We sayin', "Ohh, wee ohh, wee oh wee oh" We sayin', "Ohh, wee ohh, wee oh wee oh wee ohh, wee oh wee oh"

Now you're just somebody that I used to know Now you're just somebody that I used to know

It's going down (hey!), I'm yelling timber You better move, you better dance Let's make a night you won't remember I'll be the one you won't forget (Timber! Timber!)

I'm sexy and I know it Girl look at that body (He's sexy and he knows it)

I wear your grandad's clothes I look incredible I'm in this big old coat From that thrift shop down the road (Hey!)

That's right! (He looks incredible) I do! (He's in that big old coat) It's large! Hey, lets go! (From that thrift shop down the road)

I'm gonna pop some tags Only got twenty dollars in my pocket I'm hunting, looking for a come-up This is super awesome

She's up all night 'til the sun I'm up all night to get some She's up all night for good fun I'm up all night to get lucky

We're up all night 'til the sun We're up all night to get some We're up all night for good fun We're up all night to get lucky

We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky Up all night to get lucky

Yes, we're up all night to get Can get lucky, we're gonna get lucky, let's all get lucky We're up all night to get lucky! (Hey!)

I saw a baby drive a truck I saw a junkie eat a tuba I saw a stripper kiss a duck Behind a dumpster in Aruba

I saw this fat, psychotic guy His underwear was made of crickets He pawned a skeleton to buy Some old expired lotto tickets

I saw a naked vagrant giving Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to his cat I probably could have gone my whole life Without seeing that

With my own eyes I see things that'd drive a normal man insane Wish I could disconnect my brain From my own eyes

I saw a mime get hacked to death With an imaginary cleaver I saw an old man's final breath I watched him die from Bieber Fever I saw these diabetic chicks In an abandoned 7-Eleven I watched them snorting pixie sticks While they were belching Stairway To Heaven

I saw two drag queens trying to see how many crackers They could shove up each other's nose I'd like to erase my mind completely but I suppose That's just the way it goes

With my own eyes I see things that'd drive a normal man insane Wish I could disconnect my brain From my own eyes (my own eyes) Those visions haunt my memory Oh, there's so much I wish I could unsee With my own eyes

Some priest got drunk and stole a circus zebra And he trained it to massage his back My guinea pig committed hara-kiri So we used him to play hacky-sack My neighbor's kids sold weapons grade plutonium And frosty ice-cold lemonade They took MasterCard and sometimes Human organs in trade, that's how we paid I have to say that it was really darn good lemonade

With my own eyes I've seen thing that'd drive a normal man insane Wish I could disconnect my brain From my own eyes (my own eyes) Those visions haunt my memory Oh, there's so much I wish I could unsee With my own eyes With my own eyes With my own eyes With my own eyes

Everybody shut up, woo! Everyone listen up! Hey, hey, hey, uh Hey, hey, hey

If you can't write in the proper way If you don't know how to conjugate Maybe you flunked that class And maybe now you find That people mock you online

Okay, now here's the deal I'll try to educate ya Gonna familiarize You with the nomenclature You'll learn the definitions Of nouns and prepositions Literacy's your mission And that's why I think it's a

Good time To learn some grammar Now, did I stammer Work on that grammar You should know when It's "less" or it's "fewer" Like people who were Never raised in a sewer

I hate these word crimes Like I could care less That means you do care At least a little Don't be a moron You'd better slow down And use the right pronoun Show the world you're no clown Everybody wise up!

Say you got an "I", "T" Followed by apostrophe, "s" Now what does that mean? You would not use "it's" in this case As a possessive It's a contraction What's a contraction? Well, it's the shortening of a word, or a group of words By the omission of a sound or letter

Okay, now here's some notes Syntax you're always mangling No "x" in "espresso" Your participle's danglin' But I don't want your drama If you really wanna Leave out that Oxford comma Just keep in mind

That "be", "see", "are", "you" Are words, not letters Get it together Use your spellchecker You should never Write words using numbers Unless you're seven Or your name is Prince

I hate these word crimes You really need a Full time proofreader You dumb mouth-breather Well, you should hire Some cunning linguist To help you distinguish What is proper English

One thing I ask of you Time to learn your homophones is past due Learn to diagram a sentence too Always say "to whom" Don't ever say "to who" And listen up when I tell you this I hope you never use quotation marks for emphasis You finished second grade I hope you can tell If you're doing good or doing well About better figure out the difference Irony is not coincidence And I thought that you'd gotten it through your skull What's figurative and what's literal Oh but, just now, you said You literally couldn't get out of bed That really makes me want to literally Smack a crowbar upside your stupid head

I read your e-mail It's quite apparent Your grammar's errant You're incoherent Saw your blog post It's really fantastic That was sarcastic (Oh, psych!) 'Cause you write like a spastic

I hate these Word Crimes Your prose is dopey Think you should only Write in emoji Oh, you're a lost cause Go back to pre-school Get out of the gene pool Try your best to not drool

Never mind I give up Really now I give up Hey, hey, hey Hey, hey, hey Go away!

Your sports team is vastly inferior That simple fact is plainly obvious to see We're gonna kick your collective posterior Of course you realize we're speaking figuratively Our stats are thoroughly impressive Our coach really has the Midas touch Our players are fast and strong and brave And your guys, eh, not so much

In fact we've played teams across the nation And you're the worst one we've come across Try to assimilate that information And it just might help you cope with your impending loss Oh, and if somehow we are still failing To affectively articulate the points at hand Allow us now to summarize them in a manner That your feeble brains can understand

We're great (we're great) And you suck (you suck) We're great (we're great) And you suck (you suck) We're great (we're great) And you suck (you suck) You see there's us (we're great) And then there's you (you suck) We're really, really great (really great) In contrast, you really suck (really suck) Okay, full disclosure, we're not that great But nevertheless, you suck

Your sports team will soon suffer swift defeat That theory's backed up by empirical evidence We're gonna grind up your guys into burger meat Again, of course, we're speaking in the figurative sense What's the use of even going through the motions When you know that you're gonna lose anyhow So why don't you save us all some time And give up now (you suck!)

I never seem to finish all my food I always get a doggie bag from the waiter So I just keep what's still unchewed And I take it home, save it for later

But then I deal with fungal rot, bacterial formation Microbes, enzymes, mold and oxidation I don't care, I've got a secret trick up my sleeve

I never bother with baggies, glass jars, tupperware containers Plastic cling wrap, really a no-brainer I just like to keep all my flavours sealed in tight

With aluminum foil (Foil) Never settle for less That kind of wrap is just the best To keep your sandwich nice and fresh

Stick it in your cooler (Cooler) Eat it when you're ready Then maybe you'll choose (You'll choose, you'll choose, you'll choose) A refreshing herbal tea Mmm, lovely!

Oh, by the way, I've cracked the code I've figured out these shadow organizations And the Illuminati know That they're finally primed for world domination

And soon you've got black helicopters comin' cross the border Puppet masters for the New World Order Be aware: There's always someone that's watching you And still the government won't admit they faked the whole moon landing Thought control rays, psychotronic scanning Don't mind that, I'm protected cause I made this hat

From aluminum foil (Foil) Wear a hat that's foil lined In case an alien's inclined To probe your butt or read your mind

Looks a bit peculiar ('culiar) Seems a little crazy But someday I'll prove (I'll prove, I'll prove, I'll prove) There's a big conspiracy

One time I was in the checkout line Behind Steven Seagal Once I'm pretty sure Mr. Jonah Hill Was in the very next bathroom stall My best friend's brother Well, he was an extra in Wayne's World 2 My neighbour's baby sitter Dated three of the guys in Motley Crue I swear Jack Nicholson Looked right at me at a Laker's game

I got a lame Lame claim to fame

Check it out, I bought a second hand toaster From a guy who says he knows Brad Pitt I got me an email from the prince of Nigeria Well, he sure sounded legit My sister used to take piano lessons From the second cousin of Ralph Nader Last year I threw up in an elevator Next to Christian Slater Well guess what, my birthday and Kim Kardashian's Are exactly the same

I got a lame Lame claim to fame A really lame Lame claim to fame

Once at a party, my dentist accidentally Sneezed on Russell Crowe I posted first in the comments On a YouTube video I tried to sit by Steve Buscemi But he told me this seat's taken I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy Who know a guy who knows a guy who know Kevin Bacon

I had a car that used to belong To Cuba Gooding Jr.'s uncle A friend of mine in high school Had jury duty with Art Garfunkel One time I was staying in the same hotel As Zooey Deschanel I used the same napkin dispenser As Steve Carell at a Taco Bell Well I don't mean to brag but Paul Giamatti's plumber knows me by name

I got a lame Lame claim to fame A really lame Lame claim to fame I'm talking lame Lame claim to fame A really really really lame Lame claim to fame

Ow, let's get lame boys

First things first, I'm a craftsman (craftsman) Remodelling is my only passion (it's my passion) And I'm the greatest in the business Want referrals, yo My clientèle will bear you witness (right, right) I can help when your door jamb sticks (heh?) There is nothing in the world I can't fix (yeah) I do tiles, I do stone, I do bricks Call me, I'll come rushing over with my bag of tricks (bag of tricks) Where you go when your disposal is rusted (rusted) Termite problem making you disgusted (yuck) When your front window is busted (hey hey hey) Just one man that's always trusted

I'm so handy, you already know I'll fix your plumbing when your toilets over flows I'm so handy, I'll bring you up to code When your dishwasher's about to explode

Now you see that your furnace is needing some service I'm fully bonded, no need to be nervous Perhaps you would like a new counter Formica Maybe I'll hook up your dish washer combo dryer But all your pipes are antique Your water pressure's too weak You got an attic full of dry rot Because your roof sprung a leak Your fridge is starting to reek Your hardwood floors really squeak But don't you worry I'll just show you my amazing technique Now let me glue that, glue that and screw that, screw that Any random chore you got, well I can do that, do that Or maybe I'll just rewire your house for fun I got 99 problems but a switch ain't one

I'm so handy, everyone said so I'll grout your bathroom, resurface your patio I'm so handy, I'm the guy to know When your leaf blower doesn't blow-oh-oh-oh

Patch the drywall, clean your gutters and mow the lawn Make that phone call, I'll install anything you want Yeah, check my big staple gun, my socket wrenches are second to none I won't quit 'til I'm done, don't even care if I hammer my thumb (OW!)

Still rocking my screwdriver Got the whole world thinking I'm MacGuyver Your heating bills are shocking I can solve that with some duct tape and some caulking Your house is a disaster, huh? Need a guy whose a master with the plaster, huh? Let me be your stripper Taking off lacquer, no one does it quicker

I'm so handy, you already know I'll beat all price quotes, my hourly rates are low I'm so handy, you should call this pro I'm in the phone book and se habla Español It might seem crazy, wearing stripes and plaid I Instagram every meal I've had All my used liquor bottles are on display We can go to see a show but I'll make you pay

Wear my belt with suspenders and sandals with my socks (Because I'm tacky) Got some new glitter Uggs and lovely pink sequined Crocs (Because I'm tacky) Never let you forget some favor I did for you (Because I'm tacky) If you're okay with that, then, you might just be tacky, too

I meet some chick, ask her this and that Like 'Are you pregnant girl, or just really fat?' (what?) Well, now I'm dropping names almost constantly That's what Kanye West keeps telling me, here's why

Wear my Ed Hardy shirt with fluorescent orange pants (Because I'm tacky) Got my new resume it's printed in Comic Sans (Because I'm tacky) Think it's fun threatening waiters with a bad Yelp review (Because I'm tacky) If you think that's just fine, then, you're probably tacky, too

Bring me shame, can't nothing Bring me shame, I never know why Bring me shame, can't nothing Bring me shame, I said Bring me shame, can't nothing Bring me shame, it's pointless to try Bring me shame, can't nothing Bring me shame, I said

43 Bumper Stickers and a YOLO license plate (Because I'm tacky) Bring along my coupon book whenever I'm on a date (Because I'm tacky) Practice my twerking moves in line at the DMV (Because I'm tacky) Took the whole bowl of restaurant mints. Hey, it said they're free (Because I'm tacky) I get drunk at the bank And take off my shirt, at least (Because I'm tacky) I would live-tweet a funeral, take selfies with the deceased (Because I'm tacky) If I'm bit by a zombie, I'm probably not telling you (Because I'm tacky) If you don't think that's bad, guess what, then you're tacky, too

[bakedbakermom]

Stained

Chapter 8: Safe // start at the beginning

tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr

safe adjective 1. free from hurt or injury 2. rendered harmless --- Miracles at Sunnydale General

Scully came back to herself slowly, unsure if or how she had a self to come back to. She blinked lazily against sunlight streaming through the window, warm and thick as honey, little flecks of dust dancing through it; then she saw Mulder, and woke all at once.

His head lay on her bed, on top of the thin blue blanket that seems to come standard in every hospital across the country. The sunlight shining in his rumpled hair set off highlights of red and gold. His hand, curled around hers and carefully avoiding the line of her IV, was beautifully warm. She stared at him, transfixed by the steady rise and fall of his shoulders with each breath.

He stirred as if sensing her stare, his hand tightening around hers before his eyes had even opened. A smile broke across his face when he saw she was awake. “Hey there, Scully.”

“Hi,” she managed through a throat tight with tears. Her mouth opened and closed, her mind spinning through too many questions. “Mulder, you—? You’re—?”

He smiled. “One-hundred percent, grade-A human. Accept no substitutes.” He pressed their joined hands to his chest; she felt the beat of his heart beneath his ribs, strong and steady as a drum. Scully closed her eyes and let it wash over her like music, tears spilling down her cheeks; it was a song she never thought she’d hear again, a song she could listen to forever. Eventually he lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a tender kiss across her knuckles. “You saved me, Scully.”

She reached her free hand to her chest, expecting swathes of bandages, broken ribs, maybe even a shattered sternum. But she felt nothing but a sore ache; when she peeked down the front of her hospital gown, she saw only a bruise, larger than her spread fingers but already shifting from purple to pink and yellow. “I’m okay. How am I okay?”

“Honestly, we have no idea; we were actually hoping you might have some insight,” he said as she looked at him in stunned confusion. “When the knife made contact, there was this burst of light—intense, blinding. By the time we’d all recovered from it, you were unconscious on the floor and I had a pulse again. The knife had shattered into a million pieces. Giles was pissed; I think the poor guy turned purple for a minute there.” He chuckled and squeezed her hand. “I gotta say, Scully, you’re not the first woman who would rather die than be with me, but you are the first who tried to make it happen.”

His words were flippant, but they tugged at Scully’s heart just the same. She smiled at him briefly, then looked down at their joined hands, overcome with an uncharacteristic vulnerability. How could she even begin to explain to him what she had seen, what she had done, how it had felt to cradle her own heart in her hands—to place it inside the hollow place where his heart had once been? She took a deep breath. “Mulder—”

He shook his head, already retreating, already prepared to go back to the familiar steps of their dance. Already anticipating the same rejection he had felt all his life, as if the idea of anyone loving him was just too ridiculous to contemplate. “It’s okay,” he said softly, his pain veiled to anyone who hadn’t learned to read him like she had. “Buffy told me everything while you were out. But if you’ve changed your mind, or she misinterpreted or—”

She huffed out a small laugh, as much at herself as at him. What a pair we make. The only woman on earth who found it easier to die for him than to say the words out loud; the only man who could be restored to life by the fire in her heart, and still wonder if she’d meant it in a “just friends” kind of way. 

“Mulder,” she said again, more firmly, the you idiot implied in the tilt of her chin, the lift of her eyebrow. He ducked his head, smiling bashfully; she tugged on his hand and he followed her unspoken request, climbing up onto the narrow hospital bed so she could curl herself against him; she lay her head on his chest and listened, letting the sound of his heart fill her.

“I’m not even sure where to begin,” she finally said. “I remember the church, the spell; I remember the knife coming towards me. There was a light, and then I—I think I died. I felt my heart go into you.” The memories were already softening around the edges, the way a dream dissolves in the first light of morning. She told him as much as she could remember: about the Morrígna who were a multitude, a trio, and a single being all at once; reliving her memories of that night in the cave, from within her body and without at the same time; the forgiveness and certainty that washed over her when she saw him again for all that he truly was.

Tears spilled down her cheeks and she stumbled over the words. Heartfelt confessions and revelations had always been Mulder’s domain—and, for some reason, usually in the hallway of his apartment building—but he held her, and he listened, and when his warm tears dripped into her hair, she turned her face up to meet his eyes.

“I held my own heart in my hand, Mulder, and when I looked into the empty place where yours should have been, I knew where I belonged. I tucked that brilliant light into your chest, put that most important piece of myself inside you, knowing that even though I would never get to tell you the words myself, you would carry me forward with you. I gave you my life, so you could live knowing that I—” She stopped, swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. Beneath her hand, Mulder’s heart was pounding; it matched her own. Of course it does. The synchronicity gave her the courage to speak, though her words were barely a whisper. “I love you, Mulder.”

His face lit up beneath the sheen of tears, and before he could say a word, Scully ran her fingers through his hair and pulled until his mouth met hers.

He froze for a moment, panic-faced, and then melted into the lush and hungry heat of her mouth. He kissed her like she was a wine to savor, a mystery to explore. She rubbed her thumb along the stubble of his jaw and sighed as his fingers twined gently through her hair to cup the base of her skull. She opened her mouth to him, and the first sweet slide of his tongue on hers felt like coming home. His heart danced under her palm, keeping rhythm with hers, point and counterpoint, and she felt in her blood the heat of the flame that now lived in them both.

A giggle from the doorway snapped them apart, Scully blushing so hot she thought she might combust, Mulder stammering something that may have been an apology as he scrubbed a nervous hand over his face. The Scooby Squad stood just inside the room, expressions of unabashed glee on their faces—though Giles was at least attempting to look embarrassed. The giggle must have come from Buffy, who was trying and failing to hold her laughter in with a hand clamped over her mouth; Willow and Tara were clinging to each other, making squeaking noises in the register normally reserved for bats and dolphins. 

Xander beamed like his face might burst. “That was even better than the movie!” 

Scully’s blush deepened and she hid her face against Mulder’s shoulder; somehow, knowing that they had seen The Lazarus Bowl was even more embarrassing than getting caught with Mulder’s tongue in her mouth.

“Oh my God,” laughed Willow, “remember the first time we saw it, at the midnight premiere?”

“And we cheered so loud at the kiss scene that they almost kicked us out?” Buffy choked out, nearly doubled over.

Anya was the only one who looked unhappy. “Yeah, but now I owe Spike twenty bucks,” she grumbled.

Scully stretched closer to Mulder’s ear and murmured, “I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t survived after all.”

He squeezed her hand—which, she realized, he hadn’t let go of since she’d woken, and probably not for hours before that—and smiled. He turned so that his warm lips brushed against her hair. “I’d host a citywide drive-in screening, and make all the snacks and drinks myself, if it meant I could get you alone in the back seat.”

Scully’s chest fluttered, her blood fizzed, and she was grateful when Mulder cleared his throat, loudly, pulling the group’s attention to himself while she regained her composure. “Hey guys. What brings the whole Scoobie gang by?”

Giles stepped awkwardly from the group, revealing a bouquet of flowers hidden behind his back, marigolds and lavender and chamomile: flowers of health and healing. He set them down on Scully’s bedside table, then stood a small card beside the vase, bearing an alien in an Elizabethan recovery cone, bidding her get well soon. “We just wanted to see if you were all right, Miss Scully. You gave us all quite a scare,” he said gently. He put a fatherly hand on Mulder’s shoulder, as if to say some more than others .

“That’s very kind of you,” Scully told him, touched by the gesture, the concern. Later Mulder would tell her of the barely-contained panic that had passed through the group in the church as the light of the spell faded, how his freshly restored heart had cracked upon seeing her so pale and still, how Giles had run seven red lights on the way to the hospital; but even without knowing that, she saw the pain in Giles’ eyes—and the relief that, just this once, they wouldn’t be burying anybody.

They chatted for almost an hour: Willow, Tara, and Giles wanted a full recounting of her experience with the Morrígna, and Scully did her best, promising a more thorough report upon her release; Xander and Buffy peppered Mulder with questions about the changes he underwent, while Anya tried to explain that he should pay half her bet to Spike. “It’s your fault, anyway, you know. You and your lips.”

The whole time, his thumb never stopped drawing small, slow circles across the back of her hand. She ran her fingers along the ridge of the tendon in his wrist until she found his pulse, sweet and strong under her touch. When the group finally left, extracting promises of visits and emails and snarky insinuations of wedding invitations, Mulder pulled Scully back into his arms. He pressed a long, slow kiss to her hairline, inhaling the scent of her as she curled against his chest. For everything else the spell had done, it had left her exhausted, and she was just sinking back into the warm, fuzzy embrace of sleep when she heard him murmur, “I love you, too, Scully. In case you were wondering.”

She smiled, nodding against the soft cotton of his shirt. “I know.” And she drifted into sleep with the soothing beat of his heart, alive, and hers to keep—miracles both—beneath her cheek.

Honestly my only notes for this chapter were, "Bitch thought she could just die for him without ever telling him how she felt. Get loved, idiot." I don't write unhappy endings. These two deserve happiness - but I couldn't resist a little Scoobie cockblock. For their own good. They BOTH just got done being dead, after all. I may (okay will, eventually) write some post-ep sex for them, but let me get through Kinktober (and actual October festivities) first. The Scoobies saw Lazarus Bowl at least a dozen times. Xander absolutely makes them autograph his commemorative themed popcorn bowl before they go.

[eternalwritingstudent]

🍌 In your opinion, what’s the funniest joke/reference/pun you’ve made in a fic?

(from the ask tag!)

I have to be brutally honest and say I don't know. I've written so much over the years that I can't remember. I know I've written amusing stuff, but no examples come to mind.

There's one scene in Thief where Freedom is teasing Valric about some things he said in his sleep. It starts out pretty amusing. But that's the only thing I can think of off the top of my head. Here's part of the scene:

"Um… Valric? I appreciate the compliments, but we gotta go."

Valric's eyes popped open as I reached back and poked his ribs. "Mmm… what?"

His eyes met mine as I gazed back at him. It took a moment for the sleep to clear his mind and realize he'd cuddled up to me. His eyes grew wide, a blush spreading across his cheeks and neck. He bolted up, hitting the side of the tent.

"Whoa! You'll tear the tent down." I couldn't help laughing at his reaction as I reached out to keep him from falling backwards. I wasn't healed enough to be that fast.

He pitched backwards as the sand shifted beneath his feet. Arms wind milled as he plummeted backward. The tent spikes on my side pulled free from the sand and I found myself under the open night sky, a breeze blowing my sweat dampened hair. The sudden jerk of the tent had pulled the floors ties free from the tent, so I got to pleasantly sit, while Valric thrashed and yelled.

I laughed, the feeling and sound a relief after my awful waking. It was loud in the silent desert. Akira's tent opened. He was rubbing his face as he stepped out, watching the tent flailing through the sand.

"Don't ask. It's ridiculous."

"It looks that way." Akira walked towards me and the moving tent. "Wanna roll him up and leave him in there?"

"Don't tempt me, big man." I smirked at him. Nickname me, I could do it to him too. Of course he smiled and didn't seem to care.

I stood, shaking my head as I walked towards Valric, dusting the sand off. I kicked him in the hip, causing him to still.

"Are you done yet? We need to get moving." I couldn't keep the amusement out of my voice as he untangled himself from the material. "Now you get to sort it out and roll it back up."

He spilled out into the sand, face first. I let out a sharp laugh, unable to hold it in. When he lifted his head, it got worse, his thick lush beard was full of sand, as were his eyebrows. I waved my hand, turning away. I snorted, having to put my hand over my mouth and walk away. He spat sand, and I lost it again.

"Shut up." He spat a few more times as he stood and brushed himself off. "Did I say anything in my sleep?"

I shrugged, walking over to pull up the cover on the horses, wanting to feed and water them. I shouldn't tease him. If he knew I'd been crying cause he touched me, I'd never hear the end of it. Still, did I listen to my good sense? Not usually.

"You might have said something… baby." I glanced over at him. "Now, shhh, we have to go."

The red came back to his cheeks, and he groaned as he wiped more sand out of his beard. "I will never live this down."

[itsme-basil]

Harness - read on ao3

Tags: sterek, BDSM, Dom/sub, trans Stiles, ftm

Tagging: @therogueheart (if you'd like to be added to the tag list let me know)

Derek fidgeted in his seat as he watched the sub across the club. He was laughing wildly, head thrown back to expose a long pale neck. Other Doms had tried getting the sub to play with them, but he brushed them off every time. Playing hard to get or not interested. 

Though the harness he wore begged to differ. The sub was shirtless, a harness clipped around his shoulders, across his chest and back, down his sides to loop around his torso twice, before disappearing into a tight pair of short shorts. He was wearing converse high tops, his feet resting on the lowest rung of the barstool. From the other side of the club, Derek could see glitter dusting his cheeks and chest, dark eyeliner under his eyes. 

The Dom was scowling now, miffed at being laughed at. He said something and the laughter dies off. The sub returns the scowl and snaps something at him that gets the Dom leaving with a huff. 

Derek finished his drink before making his way across the club. He sits down on the stool next to the sub, lifting a finger and his glass to the bartender. 

"You gonna try and stick your hands down my pants too?" The sub snapped. Derek glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. 

"Not without consent," Derek shrugged nodding to the bartender and giving his drink to her. She smiled and began mixing it. Derek turned back to the sub. 

"What's your name?"

The sub blinked. He squinted his eyes. "Stiles," he responded. Derek gave him his best disarming smile and held out his hand. 

"I'm Derek."

Stiles shook it before turning back to his own drink. Derek's glass is set down in front of him and Derek thanks the bartender before taking a sip. 

"What are you doing here?" Stiles asked. 

"Drinking," Derek answered, gesturing to his drink. Stiles rolled his eyes. 

"If you're trying to use reverse psychology to get me to scene with you, you're wasting your time."

Derek smirked again, grabbing his glass and sliding off the counter. He siddled up close to Stiles, leaning his head down and setting a hand on his bare shoulder. 

"You couldn't handle me anyway, baby," he said, squeezing the muscle under his palm before leaving the bar. He made his way back to the other side of the club, drink in hand. He watched as Boyd and Erica played out a public impact scene on the stage at the back of the club. He'd come with them, hoping to leave with someone else. 

It doesn't take long for the sub to find him, arms crossed over his harnessed chest and a scowl on his face. 

"How do you know I couldn't handle you?" Stiles demanded, pouting. Derek took a sip of his drink to keep his smirk hidden. "You don't even know me."

Derek shrugged. Stiles' pout deepened. 

"I can handle you," he said. 

"Oh yeah?" Derek asked, faking nonchalance. "Willing to prove it?"

A determined look flitted across the sub's face. Then he stepped forward. "Are you gonna try to prove me wrong?"

"I might," Derek grinned. 

"I'm trans," Stiles countered. 

"Trying to scare me away now?"

Stiles looked momentarily taken aback before he quickly moved even closer, dropping down on Derek's lap and caging him in with his arms on the back of the couch Derek was sitting on. 

"I don't like whips or handcuffs," Stiles continued. "No feminization. And you gotta wear a condom or I'm not scening with you."

"I can do that." Derek barely finished the sentence before Stiles was moving in closer, their chests pressing together before Stiles' soft lips landed on Derek's. 

Derek's hands land firmly on the sub's bare thighs, squeezing before pulling him in closer. Their crotches line up and Derek rolls his hips forward. Stiles gasped into his mouth. 

They're not the only ones putting on a show in the club. Derek's not shy as he reaches his hand up to trace the band of Stiles' shorts. 

He pulled away long enough to nip at Stiles' chin before smirking up at him. "Gonna let me in your pants, baby?"

Stiles chuckled before nodding and leaning back down to kiss him again. Derek smiles against his mouth, finally reaching the button and zipper. Once Stiles' pants were undone, he shoved his hand down the front of his boxers. 

He followed Stiles' fuzzy happy trail down to a trimmed bush, then down further. He finds Stiles' clit with his fingers and rubs in small circles, pulling a whimper from Stiles, his thighs squeezing around him, hips moving against his hand. 

Derek's cock was filling in his pants, growing more uncomfortable as the time passed. He ignored it in favor of slipping his fingers deeper, finding Stiles' entrance and slipping one inside. 

Stiles pulled off Derek's mouth with a pant, rocking into Derek's fingers and holding his shoulders. His mouth lands on Derek's mouth, leaving open mouthed kisses against his skin. 

"Look at you," Derek growled, thumbing at Stiles' clit, finger pumping in and out of him. "You were just waiting for someone to put you in your place, huh, baby?"

He looked up at Stiles, who's eyes were closed, lips parted. His fingers twitched on Derek's shoulders, not at all shy about the scene he was making in the club. It wasn't anything new. Wasn't even the worst thing happening in view of all the other patrons. 

"None of these other Doms would be able to handle you the right way," Derek continued. 

"You think you can?" Stiles gasped out, hips working against his hand, rubbing against Derek's crotch at the same time. Derek reached his other hand up and curled his fingers around the harness over Stiles' chest, forcing him down onto his fingers and holding him still so he couldn't rock up. 

"I know I can, baby," Derek smirked, yanking him forward with the harness and kissing him hard. Stiles whimpered against his mouth and Derek added a second finger. His thumb picked up pace, adding a little pressure until Stiles was wriggling on his lap, biting Derek's lip and panting into his mouth. 

"Derek," he gasped wetly, close to the edge. Derek smirked against his lips, continuing the brutal pace until he felt Stiles clench around his fingers, his body tightening up. 

"Ahh!" Stiles drew out, clenching rhythmically around Derek's fingers, holding him right as he rode out his orgasm. Derek continued circling his clit until Stiles wrapped a hand around his wrist and yanked his hand from Stiles' boxers. 

He practically collapsed on Derek, chest heaving. It only took a few seconds before Stiles gained his composure. He lifted himself up, still straddling Derek's thighs. Every breath pushed the harness into the skin of his chest, just under his pecks, his cheeks pink. 

"You gonna take me into a private room and show me you can handle me or did I just waste my time?" Stiles asked, tilting his head to the side and raising an eyebrow. 

Derek couldn't help the grin that split his face as he shoved Stiles off him and stood up. His fingers looped around the harness once more and he pulled Stiles through the throng of club members, towards a dark hallway that lead to the private play rooms. 

He caught Boyd and Erica's eyes and they gave him a knowing look before continuing with their own scene. Derek glanced behind him, taking in Stiles' flushed expression, his undone shorts and the harness juxtaposing his pale skin. 

Stiles matched his grin. 

[maelialuv]

Fire Side - Eddie Munson

*NOT MY GIF*

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a campfire with friends, you look at your best friend Eddie in a brand new light. Good thing he brought his van.

Warnings: SMUT! MINORS DNI! mature language, alcohol, jealous!eddie, smut, virgin!reader, reader is 18, The Van.

Word count: 4.3K

"To no more tests, no more shitty cafeteria food and NO MORE SCHOOL!"

As Steve bellowed from on top of a log, you and your friends cheered in excitement, each with a red solo cup in hand. The graduating class of 1985 - well, you and your friends- had gathered by Lover's Lake to set up a bonfire to celebrate the end of senior year. And while he wasn't able to graduate this year, Eddie Munson , as per your incessant pestering, had tagged along with you.

Eddie had been your best friend since your junior, his first senior, year. You'd been nose deep in your schedule when you'd collided with the long haired dungeon master. You'd been knocked right to the floor, the wind smacked right out of you, whilst Eddie stood tall.

"Wow, okay, you're alright, there you go" he'd said, hoisting you up and brushing the dust from your back. "Ouch, Click's history. Rough."

"Had them before?" you asked , taking your books from him as he grabbed them from the floor.

"Let's just say our relationship has not been one of love."

You'd been close with Eddie ever since, but it was your senior year - Eddie's second- that you became best friends. You had nearly every class together, ate lunch together, and hung out almost every day after school at your place or his. You were practically attached at the hip. So when Eddie said he was gonna skip out on the bonfire, you simply wouldn't put up with it. After nagging him for a good twenty minutes straight, he'd said yes to shut you up.

But he was secretly glad he'd come. He loved spending time with you, no matter the setting or reason. He would sit with you and watch paint dry if it meant that you two were hanging out.

The bonfire party consisted of you, Eddie, Steve and Robin, Nancy and a few others. As the night went on and the sky darkened, and the booze ran low, people started to file on to their bikes and head for home until it was just you five left. You five and a bottle of vodka.

"And who hid this from the rest of us?"

"Always gotta bring a spare for the after party, Y/n. Have I taught you nothing?" Steve said, ruffling your hair playfully as he sat down next to you on the logs. He cracked the cap on the bottle. "Ladies first?"

"Straight?" you said, hoping for at least a soda to relieve yourself from the alcohol.

"Why, are you coming on to me?" Steve said with a suggestive wink.

"Shut up, you know what I mean."

"It'll be fine , watch." Steve took a tiny swig from the bottle, grimacing lightly as he swallowed. "See." You could see him fighting back a cough.

"Was that meant to impress me, Harrington?"

"Are you impressed?"

You chuckled at your friends antics, ducking down as Harrington ruffled your hair again, this time harder.

Beside you, Eddie was not laughing. Far from it. A simmering anger was spluttering inside of his chest, much like the sparks from the embers of the fire. The way Steve was talking to you - flirting with you- made his blood boil. He was so flippant about it! In front of your friends too! Eddie clenched his hands by his sides, trying his best to shove this anger- or was it discomfort?- down and just enjoy the night. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, however, when you grabbed the bottle from Steve and took a large sip with a straight face, not breaking eye contact with your friend.

Jesus Christ, Eddie thought.

Why not just make out in front of us all?

The bottle got passed around a few times, and soon a happy buzz had worked its way on to all five of you. The fire was dying down, only a light glow now, casting orange light on to everyone's faces. Robin's head rested gently on Nancy's shoulder, eyes closed and murmuring to keep up with the conversation. Moments later, Nancy took on the same tired exterior, resting her head on top of Robin's.

"You guys had enough?" You asked, putting your hand on Nancy's shoulder. She yawned loudly in response. "I think it's time to get them home, Harrington." you said, tossing Steve his keys.

"Yeah, even when the kids aren't around I'm still playing baby sitter." He leaned forward to whisper in your ear. "Don't tell anyone, but I've been having soda all night."

"Wow, party animal. You gonna be okay to drive?" you joked, smiling at Steve's gracious role of designated driver even on graduation night.

"Oh yeah, yeah, I'm good. I'll leave you a message when we're all home." He wrapped his arms over your shoulder in a friendly hug. "Night, squirt. See ya, Eddie!" he called to your best friend, who simply waved in response.

After helping Steve get the girls into his car, you plopped down next to Eddie on the logs, the glow from the moon making his pale skin look ivory in the dark. He was staring into the embers of the fire, twisting his rings round his fingers.

With a tired, but happy, sigh, you rested your head on his shoulder. "I'm sad you didn't graduate with us, Eds, 's gonna be weird not getting to see you every day." Beneath your head, you could feel Eddie tense up.

"Well, you've got Harrington for that now." He laughed humourlessly as he said it, making you furrow your brows in confusion.

"What's that supposed to mean?" lifting your head abruptly when Eddie stood, shifting his feet with his hands in his jean pockets.

"Just that, clearly, Harrington can make you happy. So you won't need to miss me too much. Steve's gotcha covered from here , it seems." He laughed to himself again. "I mean, god, could it be more obvious that he's hot for you? Guy is shameless."

"What?" you gawked at your best friend, a mix of confused and slightly angry at his sudden outburst. "What are you talking about he's hot for me?" In any other situation, Eddie's phrasing would have made you laugh. Now it just made you mad.

"Oh come on, Y/n, he was practically rubbing it in my- our faces all night. Touching your hair all the time? He's gone textbook, which is the first time I think anyone has ever said that for Steve."

"Hey, leave him alone man." You were fully angry now, pissed off at Eddie's change in demeanour. "There's nothing going on with Steve and I. And even if there was - if he wasn't still obviously in love with Nance- why would it be anything to do with you?"

"Because!"

"Because what?"

"Because you're my best friend, and I should know these things, and not have it shoved in my face. God, he was practically eye fucking you all night!" Eddie ran his hands through his hair to try and calm his nerves, but he was on fire right now. He was shaking he was so distraught at the thought of Harrington getting to you.

Before he could tell you, or show you, how he felt about you.

Your mouth was agape in shock at Eddie's words. Shocked both at his sense of entitlement to know which boys you were or were not getting with, and at his vulgarity. Steve had been his normal friendly self all night. He made sure you were having fun, he took care of Robin and Nancy. He was just normal Steve.

What had made Eddie so...off?

"What the hell is your problem, Eddie?" you took a step closer to your friend. You were about arms length apart now. "You're being an asshole right now."

"You wanna know my problem?"

"Uh, yeah, that's why I asked."

Eddie paused for a second, rocking on the balls of his feet. Then, in one smooth stride, he walked to you, grabbed your face in his hands.

And kissed you.

Eddie was kissing you.

It was intense, and hard. He grasped your face so gently in his hands, the force of his lips seeming that much bigger. When the initial shock wore off, you pulled away breathlessly.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your hands on his forearms. You were so, so confused. So why were you enjoying it? In those ten short seconds, you'd had a better kiss than in your whole high school experience. Eddie pulled back with a deep sigh.

"That's my problem. Harrington getting to touch you, not a big fan." His hands still rested on your face, thumbs stroking the apples of your cheeks. When you didn't pull away, he touched his forehead to yours gently. "I've liked you for so long, Y/n. So long. And you know I'm not a big feelings guy, but, God, seeing Steve with you tonight just made me wanna scream." You laughed slightly at him. "Oh, that's funny to you , is it?"

"You were jealous, of Steve?"

Eddie looked down at his feet, smiling to himself gently. "Of course that's the bit you listen to." You moved your hands to smooth out his wild hair. You felt like the wind had been kicked from your lungs. Eddie liked you, Eddie was jealous of Steve touching you? As much as you were confused, the small flicker of warmth in your stomach was fanned into a flame as Eddie let out a deep chuckle. "Anything else you picked up on there?"

He was looking so deeply, so intently, into your eyes you felt as though he was seeing your very soul. His hands crept their way up to the back of your head, twining his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck. "Well," you said, taking on a teasing tone despite your heart thrumming in your chest, "I don't get the jealousy thing." Eddie furrowed his brows. Had he not been clear before? "I don't get being jealous. It's not like Steve and I," you leaned in, hovering your lips over the shell of his ear, "touch here." You lightly kissed the skin below his lobe, grinning when Eddie sucked in a sharp breath.

Lowering your head, you dragged your lips down Eddie's neck. "It's not like he touches me," you kissed his adam's apple, dragging your teeth down to where his shoulders met his neck, "here." You ran your hands up Eddie's arms, lingering around his face and tracing his lips with the tip of your finger. "Wouldn't let him touch me there."

Eddie felt like he was going to implode. Your touches were driving him crazy, and if you didn't just kiss him again, he was gonna go out of his mind. You ceased your movements. "You've got no reason to be jealous of anything, Eds."

"Does Harrington know that?"

"Steve's not here, Eddie." You dropped your hands to your sides. "And even if he was, I wouldn't dream of kissing anyone else but you-"

Eddie's lips cut you off in another searing kiss, this time you reciprocated. It was all teeth and lips, hands in hair, and hands roaming anywhere they could reach. Eddie's lips felt like magic against your own, better than any kiss you'd ever had. When Eddie tugged against your hair, lowering his lips down to nip and kiss the skin of your neck, you groaned aloud. Eddie's head whipped to face you.

"Well, what do we have here?" he smirked, nipping the spot again and taking another groan as encouragement. You yanked his jaw, desperate to kiss him again. "C'mre, Munson." Eddie gladly obliged, crashing your lips together.

You felt overwhelmingly hot in your sweater now, tugging frantically at the hem to get it off without breaking the kiss. "Eds," you said, resting your hands on his cheeks. "can we sit down?"

His eyes lit up, excitement and desire evident in his now black eyes, blown wide and darkened with lust. "We could sit in the van?"

Doors thrown open, you clambered into the back of Eddie's van. You threw your sweater over your head, leaving you in a Van Halen tshirt. "You stealing my clothes now, Y/n?" You had borrowed the shirt last time you stayed at Eddie's place. The sight made Eddie just about burst. Seeing you in his clothes, he felt like he was marking you as his. The attention on the shirt - and your chest- made you suddenly self conscious, as you crossed your arms over your chest.

The pause in activity had made you nervous. What did this make you and Eddie? What would happen to your relationship now? You obviously had feelings for Eddie too, revealed by your feverish desire to kiss him, touch him, have him touch you. You head whirled with anxieties, broken when Eddie's hand wove its way into yours.

"Hey," he said softly, "we can stop if you're uncomfortable. We don't have to do anything, okay?" His thumb rubbed gently against your skin, leaving a blazing trail in its wake. Your whole body thrummed with an electric desire for Eddie. When you didn't respond right away, he scooted on the floor of the van next to you. "What's going on up here, hmm?" He tapped his fingers to your temple lightly.

"Can I tell you something?" you said, gaze on the rug Eddie had laid in the back of the van.

Eddie turned his body completely towards you. "Of course."

"I haven't... been with someone before." you grimaced in embarrassment at yourself. "So, if we do this" you finally met his gaze. "it would be my...first."

Eddie was quiet for a few heartbeats, before he leaned in and placed a soft kiss to your lips. It was slow and gentle, and conveyed his love and all his care for you without saying a word. When he pulled back, he smiled at you. You felt like your heart was in your mouth. He looked at you as if you were the moon. "Are you sure?"

You nodded your head. "I'm sure."

Eddie leaned in to kiss you again, and his tongue made its way into your mouth. You moaned lightly at the sensation. He cupped your jaw, shifting your head to deepen the kiss. Wrapping his arms around you, he lightly laid you down on the bed of the van, moving on top of you. Raising your arms above your head, he intertwined your fingers before peppering kisses down your neck, the hollow of your throat before kissing down your clothed torso. "Can I take this off?"

"Do you want me to take mine off first?" he asked , noting your nervous look. When you nodded, grateful for his patience, he reached to his back and swiped his signature Hellfire shirt off in one swift movement. You'd seen Eddie shirtless before. You'd swam together, and you'd showered at each others houses a million times. But in the white light of the moon, accentuating his light abs and tattoos, it was like the first time. Subconsciously, you reached up to trace the tattoo on Eddie's hip, mindlessly moving across his stomach. He tensed under the touch, sucking in a raged breath.

"Jesus, Y/n, you don't know what you're doing to me."

You sat up slightly, lifting your hand from his stomach to pepper small kisses along the tattoos by Eddie's collar bones. "You're so handsome, Eddie." you whispered against his skin. You lifted your head to meet his lips again, graciously welcoming his tongue back into your mouth as he slid your - his- shirt over your head. "Christ," he breathed as your skin glowed in the light of the moon made you look silver, accentuating your boobs against the stark black of your bra. "You're beautiful."

Eddie pressed wet, open mouthed kisses along your chest, lowering down across your stomach until his lips reached the hem of your jeans. You sucked in a ragged breath, the heat of where the moment was leading finally catching up with you. Without realising it, your hands had begun to tremble lightly with excited nerves. One of Eddie's own large, ringed hands came to grasp you own. "How we doing up there?" he asked, eyes meeting your own as his finger toyed with a stray thread near the button of your jeans.

"Good." you said, flushing dark red at the sight before your eyes. Eddie was sprawled on the bed of the van, body between your opened legs, hair messy and curling round his face. Unable to stop yourself, you pushed a stray curl from his eye. He leaned into your touch, kissing your wrist as he caught it. "Do you want to keep going?"

You'd be insane to stop now. The heat in your stomach was a full on wild fire by now, centred between your legs where Eddie's head was. "Yes," you said breathlessly, "yes, please."

"Okay," Eddie began to unbutton your jeans at a purposefully, painfully slow pace. The coolness of his rings against your bare thighs made you gasp, resulting in a smirk from the metal head between your legs. With your jeans off, Eddie took his own off too. If you'd been staring before, now you were gawking at him. Through his boxers, Eddie was hard enough that you could see the outline of his cock clear as day, despite the limited light. He was big, bigger than you thought you could manage. If you went all the way tonight, it would be painful. Somehow, the thought turned you on even more.

Out of his jeans, Eddie crawled up your chest to reattach his lips to yours in a heated kiss. Feeling a surge of confidence, you ran your tongue along his bottom lip, moaning as he allowed you entrance and his tongue met yours. Subconsciously, you started to grind your hips against Eddie's , shocked at the volume of the gasp that was swallowed by his mouth. Matching your eagerness, Eddie ground his hips down to meet yours. "Fuck," he groaned right in your ear, turning you on even more than before. Something about bringing Eddie pleasure made your own start to pool between your legs.

"Eddie," you sighed, hands woven in his hair as you rutted against him, desperate for any friction you could find.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart." he sucked on the skin of your neck, surely leaving marks that you would have to cover later. He nipped a particularly sweet spot that made you whine. "Tell me, and I'll give to you." Eddie would give you the moon if you asked. “You,” you breathed in a sigh as his tongue swiped over the bruising skin, “just want you, Eddie.”

Inside his chest, Eddie felt his heart surge. For months, he had been letting guilt eat him up inside. He never meant to fall for you, and he felt terrible for it. But the pain of losing you as a friend would be a thousand times worse than being rejected by you, so he bottled it up. So in the dark of the night, laid down in his van with yourself on display to him, professing your desire for him, Eddie felt confident.

”Well, I'm not going anywhere babe."

Babe

Eddie's delicate fingers wound themselves over the hem of your panties, shimmying them down your legs with heavy eyelids. "Gonna make you feel good , okay?" He threw your underwear over his shoulder blindly. His hands settled fondly on your hips, thumbs rubbing small circles . You felt like you weren't a person anymore, but merely a heap of ash from the sweltering heat you felt in your stomach. Every touch of Eddie's cool skin on the sizzling heat of your own felt like a fire hose on a burning house.

Then you exploded.

Eddie nestled his face between your thighs, wrapping your legs around his head and keeping them there with his arms. He flattened his tongue against you, and you felt like the floor was going to swallow you up. You were instantly melting underneath him, uttering breathless praise as he wrapped his lips around your clit and hummed. You hands clutched and palmed at his hair, desperate for him to be all the more close to you.

"Oh, shit."

"How's it feel, s'good? Tell me how good it feels, Y/n." When you didn't reply right away, he nipped at your inner thigh, leaving a bruise.

"So good, Eds, so so good." So good you could hardly form words, as your mouth seemed able to only form a silent oh as you back arched and your hands flailed around Eddie's hair, messing it up. "So- fuck- good."

Between your legs, Eddie groaned at the praise. The vibrations against you had your eyes rolling back into your skull. Eddie's hand travelled up your stomach before resting against your boobs, kneading and palming them. The coil in the pit of your stomach was close to snapping.

"E-Eddie, I'm gonna-" you cut yourself off as a loud, borderline pornographic moan escaped your mouth as Eddie began to rapidly shake his head bath and forth, tongue a vice on your clit. Your back arched from the floor of the van, almost sitting up, as you came. Eddie's face remained between your legs, licking up the remains of your climax as your chest heaved.

He kissed his way up your stomach to your face, and you crashed your lips to his. You tasted yourself on his mouth, groaning in reaction. "That was so hot," Eddie breathed against you, "almost got off on it."

"Almost?" you pouted your lips lightly at him, the thought of Eddie getting off to you made you ravenous. You reached for the hem of his boxers, completely ready to try your best to return the favour, when Eddie stopped you.

"As amazing as that would be," he said, laughing to himself, - the girl i'm crazy for wants to blow me and I'm saying no?-, "I just wanna make tonight easier for you. It's about you."

"Okay."

Eddie's hands cradled your face as he hovered over you, his hair fanning against your face and creating a cage around you. His eyes were black with lust. He guided your hand to the hem of his underwear. "We can stop now. Just say the word." You shook your head, maybe too quick, as Eddie chuckled.

"I want you, Eddie. All of you. Here." You stroked your knuckles against his cheek. "Now."

"Yes, ma'am."

Eddie moved with a speed that would be comical ,had you not been aching for him in that moment, as he took off his boxers. Reaching into his jean pocket, he pulled out a condom. Tearing it open with his teeth - an action you wished to see many more times- he rolled it down his shaft. "Okay, are you ready? It may hurt, but we'll take it slow and you can take as long as you need, alright?"

"I'm ready."

He took one hand in yours, holding them entwined firmly above your head as he inserted the tip. You gasped, the intrusion bringing a somewhat painful sting. Eddie kissed your neck as he slid in, stopping every inch or so to make sure you were okay. "You're so gorgeous," he sighed into your neck, moaning when he bottomed out and the two of you were entirely connected. "Are you okay?"

There was not a single word in the English language to describe the feeling you felt in that moment. So entirely full of Eddie, consumed by your need for him. When Eddie shifted slightly to get a look at your face, nudging a particularly sweet spot inside you, you whined aloud.

"Oh my God, Eddie please."

"What?"

"Move, please."

That was all Eddie needed. Seeing you fall apart beneath him as he ate you out had driven him nearly mad. And Eddie Munson was content with being insane if it meant he was making you feel the way you sounded when he set a slow, but deep, pace inside you on the floor of his van at Lover's Lake. The sound of skin slapping against skin, moans of ecstasy and high pitched whines echoed throughout the van. "Holy fuck, Y/n," Eddie moaned in your ear, the sound making you clench around him, "you feel so amazing." He kissed all along your collar bones, nipping and sucking as he went.

"So fucking good- shit, baby, I'm not gonna last if you keep doing that." He sighed as you pulled at the hair on the nape of his neck.

"Faster, Eddie, please," you cried. "Please, please."

Eddie wanted to make a mixtape of your moans and little sounds. "You don't need to beg, sweetheart." His hand came between your bodies, rubbing tight circles on your clit. "I've gotcha."

As soon as Eddie made contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves, it was over. A scream of a moan ripped through your throat, eyes clenched tightly shut as you came hard around his cock. "Oh fuck, Eddie, yes-yes-yes!"

"Shit, sweetheart, clenching me so-oh-tight, fuck!"

Eddie's hips stuttered as he came into the condom, arms buckling and chest meeting yours. You wrapped your arms around his back, holding him to you. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, panting and trying to collect yourselves. You felt completely content, blissed out. Eddie swiped your hair from your face as he pulled out. You whimpered at the loss of contact.

Reaching for the blanket at the foot of the van, Eddie wrapped it round the two of you and pulled you to his side. He paused for a second, thinking about his words very carefully. "That was-"

"Amazing." You said, snuggling into his chest and leaving small kisses over the tattoos there.

His heart swelled. "Yeah, pretty fucking great."

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, a hand cradling your head. Without saying the words, the I don't want to forget about this, I don't feel this way about anything or anyone else, the two of you had grown closer than ever before.

Eddie chuckled to himself as your eyes drifted closed, head nestled between his neck and shoulder. "Pretty fucking great."

[jackrrabbit]

Sidekick /// Dabi x f!Reader x Shigaraki (18+)

Summary: During a rescue gone wrong, a rookie sidekick catches the attention of two villains.

A/N: Thanks for 1k followers!! This is the fic that made me create a smut blog/lowkey inspired this. imho this might be the spiciest thing I’ve ever written 😳 also wanted to call out @kazooli​ because this is highkey inspired by her lol thanks queen

Tags/warnings: quirk kink, reader’s quirk makes other quirks stronger, noncon, threesome, lots of foreplay, outdoor sex, mild overstimulation, degradation, mild violence, threats, chronological/temporal inaccuracies, fucking long

You can hardly be blamed for not recognizing them. It’s only been three weeks since you debuted as a pro, and you’re not even really a hero. You’re a sidekick, and apparently you’re not important enough to have been briefed on the major villains you need to look out for. You’re just…doing your duty. Rescuing civilians indiscriminately. Stupid, naive little sidekick. It’s not your fault that the lives you just saved belong to the two most notorious villains around.

Still, Shigaraki can’t wait to see the look on your face when you find out.

///

The disaster you ‘rescue’ them from—the League’s bar crashing down, the result of a small-time villain’s poisonous gas quirk—isn’t even a disaster. It’s a minor annoyance, sure, but Shigaraki and Dabi would have been fine without you…even though both of them missed Kurogiri’s warp gate and ended up trapped under a wooden beam in the wreckage of the building… Okay, it’s more than a minor annoyance. Shigaraki hacks violently as the cloud of foul-smelling steam and powdered debris enters his lungs. The poisonous quirk doesn’t seem to be having the same acid-burn effects on his body as it did on the building, but he can’t assume it’s harmless.

Father… Shigaraki took Father off his face to drink at the bar earlier before the gas hit, and now in the confusion the severed hand is either buried underneath the rubble that used to be the League’s main base or somewhere else out of view. “Father? Father!” Shigaraki calls out, attempting to shift under the crushing weight of the beam.

“Shut up,” Dabi says from somewhere to Shigaraki’s left. “Kurogiri took it in one of the portals, I saw it.” He looks worse than Shigaraki feels—something hit him in the face as the bar collapsed, and a few of the staples (piercings? stitches? whatever) on his right cheek are torn open and bleeding.

“Are you lying to me?”

Dabi sneers and rolls his eyes. “Let’s just get out of here.” His palms glow blue and Shigaraki follows suit, letting four fingers sit on the wood that’s pinning both of them to the ground. It’s too heavy to lift, so they’re going to have to get rid of it…a task that seems significantly more difficult when it becomes clear that neither of them are positioned at the right angle to touch it.

Shigaraki tries to wrest his arm out enough for his thumb to touch the wood, but it’s impossible. Beside him, Dabi’s having the same issue. “Shit, I can’t reach—“

“Is someone there?” Confident, clear, and oddly robotic, your voice cuts through the din of gurgling water from cracked pipes and police sirens like a lit flare in the darkness. Shigaraki tenses and halts his attempts to get free from the beam, and a second later Dabi mimics him.

“I heard voices.” The same unfamiliar voice rings out through the half-light, now accompanied by a body—your body, taking a series of awkward jumps down the piles of rubble to land in front of the two of them. The outfit you’re wearing is ridiculous: a pair of metal boots that clang against the cement wherever you step, matching braces on your arms, and a space-age chrome motorcycle helmet to top it all off.

A hero. Shigaraki’s lip curls in disgust as your head turns his way.

You scan the scene quickly, eyes resting on the two men trapped in front of you for a moment before you turn back to the opening in the wreckage. “Found two civilians!” you call out to the rescue workers just in case they’re within earshot, although it’s unlikely.

Dabi snickers under his breath. Civilians? Even in the chaos, you should’ve known the second you saw them who you’re looking at. Are you faking ignorance? Got something up your sleeve?  It’s either that, or you genuinely don’t recognize them. Priceless.

You kneel down in front of the fallen beam and give a half-hearted attempt to pick it up. It doesn’t budge. No surprises there—if it were light enough for you to lift by yourself, the two men held down by it would have no problem getting out with their combined strength. You’re going to have to use your support gear to get it off them.

But first—you search for a memory of your rescue training. Reassure the victims. They’re probably panicking.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell them, your voice coming out mechanical and distorted from the helmet you’re wearing. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here to save you.”

This time, Dabi has to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Ah, yes…they’re so lucky that there’s a do-gooder little hero around to rescue them, because they’d be helpless otherwise. The laugh is still audible, though, and Shigaraki shoots him a glare.

You raise an eyebrow at their expressions. Did he just laugh? Well…you’ve heard that people sometimes have inappropriate reactions in times of crisis. The dark-haired man seems more badly hurt, so you creep toward him first, careful not to disturb any of the debris and trigger an avalanche reaction. “I’m going to check your injuries now,” you tell him, and your gloved hand brushes away a sweep of spiky hair to examine the sizable red bump growing on his forehead.

Ouch…there’s no way that doesn’t hurt, but the man’s not letting any of the pain show on his face. Instead, he looks disinterested at best, and at worst? You almost get the feeling that he’s eyeing you up under your hero costume. Not that you can blame him. Damn this skin-tight bodysuit—it leaves basically nothing to the imagination.

“Does it hurt a lot?” you ask him. “I don’t think this is too serious, but they’ll look you over for a concussion when I get you to first aid.”

Dabi shrugs and you frown. Is the non-verbal response because of the ripped stitches in his face? Is it too painful to talk? Or could there be brain damage? Or maybe he’s just a man of few words or something…?

“Can you get on with it? Pick up the fucking beam already,” Shigaraki hisses.

Startled, you pull your hand away from the other man’s forehead. That ungrateful little…nope, nope, don’t get annoyed, he’s just in shock. “O-Of course, sorry. Just gotta make sure it’s okay to move.”

Luckily, the beam doesn’t look like it’s supporting anything else that’ll fall if you pick it up. You crouch down next to one end and steady your feet against the cement, lifting up with all your strength while activating the effects of the support items you’re wearing. When you feel the metal on your arm braces grow warm, you remind yourself again to thank the developer of your costume. You may not be a fan of the way-too-tight bodysuit that clings to everything, but the strength-enhancing armor that you wear on your arms and legs more than makes up for it.

A second later, you hold back a grin. It’s moving! You try to ignore the unpleasant screech of metal against stone as the beam slowly lifts into the air. As soon as the men get out from under it, you pant and let it crash back into the ground. “You guys okay?”

“Mm…yes,” Dabi replies, running a hand over the torn piercings in his cheek. “Got any more gas masks for the poison mist?”

“Don’t worry! The Commission is familiar with the villain who created it, and the gas isn’t harmful to anything living. Only buildings. It’s a troublesome quirk, but we’ve got it under control.”

“Then what’s with the helmet?”

He can hear the hesitation in your reply, even distorted and tinny through the metal speakers. “Uh…I, well…”

Now that you’re getting a good look at them, the two scarred faces in front of you seem weirdly intense, considering you’ve just saved them from a collapsed building. The dark-haired man’s eyes are…very, very blue next to the burned-looking skin underneath, and the other man’s greyish-blue hair isn’t quite long enough to obscure a pair of red irises that are scrutinizing your face with obvious hostility.

You give a nervous shake of your head to clear it. “Um, the helmet is…it’s dangerous if I take it off. I should get you guys back to the rescue area, I need to meet up with my hero…” Without thinking, you take a step back and then one more, not knowing exactly why you’re backing away when you’re supposed to be escorting them. “I’ll just lead the way?”

With your third step back, though, you bump into something hard. What was that? Your head jerks around but before you can identify what it is that stopped your retreat, you feel the faint sensation of something tapping lightly on the back of your helmet.

And then…it just…crumbles.

What just happened?

You cough and shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut against the sudden onslaught of dust. A breeze whips through your hair, sending a chill through you in more ways than one. How? No one pulled the helmet off; you would’ve felt it if they had. More dust sticks to your face, and you rub your eyes so you can open them.

Behind you, Shigaraki waits with outstretched fingers an inch away from your neck. If he had to explain the decision to decay your helmet strategically, he could—you’re a hero, a potential threat, and he wants to know what you’re hiding under that outfit just in case you figure out who they are and decide to turn on them.

But really? He didn’t think about it that much. It was an impulse reaction to you walking away from them; a tantrum. Child-like.

Once your stunned face is exposed, Dabi has to wonder what you were even trying to hide. You’re…surprisingly ordinary. Young-looking—a rookie, fresh from hero school graduations a few weeks ago maybe? Large, expressive eyes, lips parted in shock, but nothing particularly interesting. Shigaraki cocks his head to the side to study your face too, and both of them are so focused on your appearance that it takes a moment for them to notice the feeling.

Well, feeling isn’t really the right word, but there isn’t a word for the way your quirk works. Dabi’s eyes widen when it reaches him and behind you, Shigaraki stiffens. You notice.

There’s an involuntary quiver in your voice as you break the silence. “Y-You guys must have strong quirks if you can feel it just from that.”

Dabi sucks in a breath. So this is your quirk? It’s different…he’s never felt anything like it, not that he’s exactly sure what it is. There’s some kind of energy in the air around you that he’s breathing in, a feeling like taking a shot of espresso after days of sleep deprivation.

No, it’s stronger than that. The head rush after doing a line of cocaine would be a better metaphor.

Either way, he’s awake—more awake than he can remember feeling in a long time. Heat rises to the surfaces of his palms unbidden, his quirk appearing without him calling it. “What is this?”

“…It’s called Boost,” you say, licking your lips as a dry wave of heat radiates out from the man in front of you. “I can strengthen other people’s quirks. That’s why it’s dangerous—if the villain finds us—“

“It must have been hard to get through hero school with a quirk like that,” says a raspy voice from behind you.

What—? Your head twists around. When did he—

Shigaraki grips your shoulder with three fingers, holding just tightly enough to keep you from stumbling forward and away from him. His pinky and ring finger hover an inch over your costume, careful not to disintegrate the fabric he’s touching—although with the power sparking through his veins at the moment, it almost feels like three fingers would be enough.

“…Doesn’t really seem like the kind of quirk a hero has.” His voice, soft and pondering (a weird contrast to the harsh architecture of his facial features you’d seen earlier), feels very close to your ear. Something soft tickles your cheek. His hair?

A voice (an instinct?) deep inside of you is telling you to run. You ignore it. This is normal, right? It’s not uncommon for civilians who’ve just suffered a traumatic villain attack to have questions, even if those questions seem irrelevant to the situation at hand. You have to answer, even if your gut is churning. “I’m not really a hero. Not yet. For now, I’m a sidekick to one of the pros—and speaking of which, I really need to find—“

“But how does it work?” Dabi doesn’t notice himself making a conscious decision to step forward, but he does anyway and being closer to you feels right. He can see the trepidation on your face as he gets close enough to reach out and touch you, but you can’t really ask him to stay back, can you? Not when your quirk feels this good?

“I—“ Is it unreasonable that you think you’re being trapped right now? They’re just a couple of civilians, right? The question itself is common enough. People often wonder how you can be a hero. It’s a concern you’ve had to address dozens of times over the years. “Well, I work with rescue operations, especially with other heroes who have healing-type quirks. I can also assist in combat in some situations.”

“In combat? If you’re with a hero and a villain, you’ll enhance both quirks. Seems counterintuitive,” Dabi says, half aware that his voice is getting lower.

“And you clearly don’t have physical abilities. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have…these.” Shigaraki taps three fingers on the metal brace on your right arm.

“The effects can be unpredictable. And I can increase the degree of the enhancement with physical contact.”

“Contact?”

“Yeah. The gloves of my costume come off. My quirk is way stronger when it’s skin-to-skin.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

You shouldn’t have said that.

Shigaraki’s ring finger and pinky, which were hovering over the arm brace, come down to rest on the cold metal. The effect is instant: no crumbling, no slow decay—it’s there, and then it’s dust. His quirk in action, boosted by yours.

“What—What are you doing? What did you just do?” You try to pull away from him, but he holds you tight by your collar. His other hand comes up to grip your chin, and in one long sloppy stroke, he licks you from your neck up to your jawline.

You shudder. So does Shigaraki.

“It’s my quirk,” he tells you slowly. His breath is steamy warm on the cold, wet trail of saliva painting your throat. “Decay. Have you heard of it?”

You flinch away from his hand and your back falls against his chest. Of course you’ve heard of the Decay quirk. You might be a rookie, but even civilians know about the young, impetuous head of the League of Villains. Jesus, how had you not recognized him earlier? White hair, red eyes…you should have known. You should have left him under that beam. “Shigaraki…Tomura.”

“So you’re not completely clueless. Do you know me, then?” Dabi asks. He would think he’s the more noticeable of the two (the burn scars usually identify him), but you just stare up at him with the same deer-in-the-headlights look as before. Smirking, he lights a blue fire in his palm and it jumps up toward your face—not just the small spark he intended, but a bright, high flame. “Maybe this will help you remember.”

“The Forest of Beasts incident. You’re the one who started that fire,” you whisper. You’ve seen the TV coverage of the attack on UA’s training camp, the abduction of that teenage student, the forest lit up blue from wildfire. No wonder his skin looks burned.

“Dabi,” he corrects you.

Breath is coming out of your mouth in shallow puffs. Are you hyperventilating? Is this what hyperventilating feels like? You’re definitely panicking. They’re so close to you, caging you in between them. The smoke from the blue fire is uncomfortably hot over the exposed skin of your face, and Shigaraki’s lethal hands are still touching you. If they want to kill you—and why wouldn’t they?—you’re fucked.

The flame goes out and Dabi’s hands come down to squeeze your wrists. His palms are hot like he was holding them in front of a lit stove. It’s not painful, but it’s a threat.

“I’ll fight,” you say.

Your voice is trembling, and Shigaraki likes it. The effects of your quirk, the way he felt when he licked your face… And you’re afraid. He can see it in your shoulders, the quivering of your torso pressed into him. It’s nice. He wants to feel it more.

You’re struggling against their hold, and Dabi feels the urge to laugh. “You’ll fight…the two of us.”

“If you try to kill me, I’ll—“

Before you can finish your sentence, Shigaraki’s hands flit down to your metal support gear and disintegrate it. Shit. He’s fast, and you’re helpless.

Dabi releases your wrists and cups your face in a mockery of intimacy. His eyelids flutter closed as his skin meets yours… Fuck, he could get used to this. You smell so good, sweet and soft and clean, like fruity shampoo. What is that, watermelon?

Life must be difficult for you, hm… Everyone around you must want to touch you constantly. It seems like Shigaraki enjoyed licking you—maybe bodily fluids are an even stronger conductor of your quirk? Pushing easily past your resistance, Dabi forces your jaw upward and kisses you.

Oh…yesyesyes, just like that. Perfect. Dabi has to bite down a groan as his tongue enters your mouth. It’s ridiculous for someone else’s spit to taste this good, but he’s right—your quirk is amplified by the contact from the kiss.

After a moment he has to break it to regain focus and make sure he’s not burning you. You cringe away from him, your cheek brushing against Shigaraki’s neck, but Dabi tangles his hand in your hair to pull you back. He runs a finger against your closed lips, letting the pad of his fingertip heat up until your mouth drops open in response to the threat.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shigaraki asks, voice laced with revulsion. Privately, you agree. What’s going on? You were sure you were about to be either burned to a crisp or decayed into the equivalent.

Dabi laughs under his breath. “Try it. It feels crazy good.”

Curious now, Shigaraki wrenches your head around and tilts your jaw up to repeat Dabi’s action. When you refuse to open your mouth, he taps your jaw warningly and a hiss of fear escapes you. Would he really kill you? He decayed your support gear so quickly—would it be the same for your body?

Well, what’s going to stop them?

You open your mouth.

Shigaraki’s lips are harsh and unsentimental against yours. His tongue sweeps over the inside of your mouth, invasive and brutal. He grips you forcefully, his face pushing you deeper into the strained hold with your head twisted toward his. You’ve never been kissed like this before. His spit—it’s in your mouth.

And Dabi’s hands are on your waist. “How do you get this thing off?” he murmurs, pinching the fabric of your bodysuit.

A surge of panicked adrenaline gives you the strength to pull back away from Shigaraki. “What? No, you can’t!”

“Are you going to stop us, little sidekick?” Dabi mocks. “I think I can burn it off without too much damage.”

“Let me.” Shigaraki takes hold of the cloth, careful so when it dissolves into dust his hand isn’t touching you, and within a second—a second—you’re left shivering in just your underwear and boots.

“Help!” The plea squeaks out and you hope blindly that there’s a hero close enough to hear you. But is there even anyone who can fight them? You certainly can’t. “Help me! Somebody!”

“Shut up.” Dabi sends up a tongue of flame from a fingertip and you shriek as the heat sears against you. “Oh, come on. You should feel lucky. Bad guys like us usually don’t hesitate to take heroes out.”

“I don’t— Please, I’m just a sidekick, I’m a rookie— What do you even want from me? Just let me go, I won’t tell anyone! Please let me go.”

“Well, I think I know what I want.” Dabi traces circles over the tender skin of your hips, playing with the elastic of your underwear. He meets Shigaraki’s eye over your shoulder. “I think he wants that too. Right?”

“Yeah, I want…I want to fuck her,” Shigaraki hums. This isn’t like him, but he can’t help himself. You’re different. Leaving you here and never feeling this stimulant again isn’t an option. He buries his face in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, bites down on the soft skin there, and sucks.

You whimper, half from his answer and half from the sensation of his chapped lips on your neck. “Why are you doing this?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…you smell like something I want to eat. Especially this.” Dabi kneels down in front of you and hitches one of your legs up over his shoulder so you feel his hot breath washing over your clothed pussy.

You whine and attempt to wriggle back away from him, but Dabi’s grip on your thigh holds firm. His other hand brushes against the fabric of your panties to rub up against your slit and another surge of panic jumps up your throat. You can’t let him do this.

You kick your foot against his back, desperately attempting to make contact using the heel of the high boot that’s the only piece of outerwear still left on your body. It hits him awkwardly and he growls. “Damn it. Can’t you keep her busy?”

“Ahh…” Shigaraki ceases his oral assault on your neck and scratches a fingernail against one of the bright red marks marring your skin. He feels almost dizzy from the way your quirk is affecting him. Behind him, the broken expanse of wall digging into his back is the only thing keeping his focus. “Behave, sidekick.”

Before you can respond to the mocking title, Shigaraki’s face is against yours and his tongue is in your mouth again. Rough fingertips work up under the band of your sports bra and pushes it up over your tits. You screw your eyes shut at the sudden feeling of cold air on your nipples, and you know without looking that they’re standing up. Shigaraki gropes you thoughtlessly, keeping one finger lifted off of your skin, and you gasp on his tongue.

“That’s better.” Dabi’s mouth returns to brush against your panties. To be honest, eating you out isn’t the first thing on his mind. What he wants—what he really wants—is to shove you up against the wall and fuck into you and find out what your quirk feels like when you’re wrapped around his cock. But you’re probably not wet enough for that, and it’s not like Shigaraki is going to do anything to take care of you. Dabi would be surprised if the other man’s ever eaten pussy before in his life.

Besides…you smell good. It’s not even just the feeling of your quirk exciting him. The rich, feminine scent of your pussy is inches away from him, and Dabi is dying to make you cum in his mouth.

A moan curls up from deep in your throat as Dabi caresses the lips of your pussy through your underwear. You don’t bother protesting—at this point, it’s unlikely that any plea you could muster would stop them. Your earlier begging didn’t do much besides spur them on, but you still cry out as softly as you can when an unnaturally warm fingertip slips under the cloth of your panties to dip into your slit.

“Oh? You’re wetter than I expected. Are you enjoying this?”

Your frantic denial falls on deaf ears. Shigaraki rasps out a laugh and bites down on your neck again. He’s supposed to be keeping you still, but he can’t help enjoying the way your almost-naked body feels as you press yourself back into his chest, trying to force some space between yourself and Dabi.

Your squirming is no problem for Dabi, though—you’re so soft and vulnerable and the velvety skin of your inner thigh looks so delicious… He nuzzles against the area of bare skin and latches on to it, sucking until he’s sure you’re going to have a mark in a few minutes. The thought of leaving hickeys on you like a teenager is sickeningly nostalgic. You’re probably going to try to forget this when they’re done, aren’t you? But you won’t be able to, not when you’re covered in love bites and bruises. You’re going to be marked up for weeks.

Fuck, he’s hard.

Too impatient to bother taking off your panties, Dabi just pushes them aside to gain access to your damp cunt. His fingers feel hot—too hot, almost unbearably hot; you feel like you could melt into a puddle and your pussy is certainly slick enough as he pets your clit and slides one finger in, then two… You whimper and shake your head, silently denying what’s happening to you. The intrusion is uncomfortable, but Dabi’s fingers quickly find that rough patch inside of you that makes you want to beg like an animal. You hate it, but it feels good.

“She’s so tight,” Dabi says with something like awe in his voice. You can hear Shigaraki panting behind your back.

“Get on with it,” Shigaraki says.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

For a second you just feel Dabi’s humid breath against your dripping cunt before he closes the space between the two of you and his tongue slides onto you, laving over your cunt to come to a rest on your clit. A sound you’ve never heard yourself make before forces its way out of your mouth as Dabi eats you out in earnest, rubbing his tongue against your clit in a stuttering rhythm that gives you no time to catch your breath.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Your head rolls back onto Shigaraki’s shoulder. You feel like crying for a million reasons at once. Maybe you’re already crying��the sounds you’re making are almost like sobs. You want him to stop. You never want him to stop. Your hands twitch as you fight the impulse to fist them in the villain’s hair and pin him down between your thighs.

“Fuck, oh fuck, no stop please stop, ah…!” The stream of gibberish coming out of your mouth crescendoes into a real sob as you feel your climax coming. No—you can’t—you can’t cum here, in this broken-down bar, on the tongue of a villain, but it doesn’t matter that you can’t, because you’re going to cum anyway.

“Please don’t, please let me go—“ You writhe uncontrollably as the desire to cum sweeps over you, but Dabi just curls one arm around your thigh and pulls his face away so he can push his fingers back in, angling his palm to grind roughly over your clit. The harsh, rough texture after the warm wet softness of his tongue is enough to push you over the edge and you cry out your orgasm, your pussy clenching onto Dabi’s fingers as he works them in and out of you.

Unable to support yourself, you crumple like paper, and only the two villains you’re sandwiched between keep you upright.

“Fucking finally,” Shigaraki growls, and he pushes you down so your knees scrape painfully into the rubble. Your earlier resistance was cute, but so is your dazed compliance as he pulls your hips up to meet his.

“You’re going first?” Dabi asks incredulously. After he did all that work getting you off? No way.

“You can use her mouth,” Shigaraki tells him. His cock is straining against his pants and he groans as he releases it and rubs it over your panties. He could decay them, but…they’re cute. Pale pink, peach-pink, except for the wet spot over your cunt. Precum is already dribbling out of his cock as he pulls your panties to the side and lines it up with your pussy. Jesus-fucking-christ, you’re wet, sopping and slimy. Doesn’t that mean you’re begging to get filled up? Shigaraki hears himself sigh as he slides the head of his cock up and down your slit so it’ll be wet enough to go in.

You’re still out of it, dizzy from your orgasm and the tension of the situation, but you snap back to your senses with the feeling of something hard pushed up to your entrance. “Wait!” you yelp for what feels like the hundredth time. The gravel scattered over the wreckage where you’ve been forced onto your hands and knees digs painfully into your flesh as you pull away from Shigaraki, but he holds fast to your hips with pinkies raised.

“Uh-uh,” Dabi admonishes with a grin, as if he’s reprimanding a dog for not coming when called. He settles himself in front of your front and kneels again. Your hair is mussed but still silky soft and he takes a moment to enjoy the way the strands slip over his skin before he tangles his fingers close to your scalp and yanks your head in his direction, forcing your cheek to chafe against the crotch of his pants. It’s not difficult to tell what the the thick bulge is through the fabric, and you try to flinch away only to be caught again and immobilized.

“You’re going to take care of us,” Dabi tells you. “Like I took care of you. Okay?”

No, it’s not okay, it’s absolutely not okay, and you would say so if you didn’t see Dabi’s expression darken at your obvious denial and feel a wave of acrid heat coming from his hand in your hair. The smell is worse than the feeling, honestly—you’ve had enough run-ins with hair curlers and flat irons to recognize the smell of hair when it’s three seconds away from burning. “Okay! Okay,” you answer, panicked, voice muffled by the fabric of Dabi’s pants.

“Good girl,” he purrs, and the heat fades.

“I’m not waiting any longer,” Shigaraki says from behind you.

“Then don’t.”

You whine, too scared to try to get away again or even plead with them to let you go, but it doesn’t matter. Shigaraki’s cock presses into your pussy, and there’s nothing you can do to stop him as he slides into you, inch by inch, torturously slow. Is there anything to bite down on? You need to do something, anything to distract from the pain of Shigaraki’s cock stretching you out. He’s big, impossibly big.

Eyes squeezed shut, you bite your lip until you can taste copper and scrabble around blindly until your hand finds loose fabric to grip. It’s something of Dabi’s, probably the coat he’s wearing if you remember correctly, but your brain isn’t exactly working right at the moment—

“You were right…shit, she’s…she’s so fucking tight.” Shigaraki’s voice is low and labored with the effort of not thrusting into you all at once. “Feels like…she’s trying to push me out…”

Fuck it, he thinks. Would it really be so bad if he did push all the way into you in one stroke? It’s better to just get it over with, isn’t it? Yeah…you’d probably prefer him to do it quickly. And besides, he can’t wait another second to feel you all the way up to the base of his cock.

Your strangled whimper is drowned out by his satisfied groan as he shoves the rest of the way into you in a single sudden thrust. The pain knocks the breath out of you in a gasp, and your eyes fly open as you clutch Dabi’s coat like a lifeline.

“It hurts—!”

“Yeah…yeah, I bet it does,” Shigaraki pants, holding your hips steady as he thrusts in and out of you. The bored nonchalance of earlier is gone, replaced by a feral intensity as his cock carves its way through your pussy. If you didn’t know better, you’d think there’s something affectionate in his voice.

For Shigaraki’s part, he can hardly think of anything aside from the soft, hot, wet cunt wrapped over his dick. It’s taking every vestige of concentration he has left to make sure he’s holding a single finger on each hand away from your skin. It’s pure bliss. Your body was made to be fucked like this. He wants to live inside your pussy, he wants to do this every day, every minute. Fucking you raw is the best he’s felt in months…years. And it doesn’t hurt that your quirk is still working on him, still sending pleasurable shocks of energy that make him feel simultaneously like he could keep you pinned down for hours and like he could cum any second.

“Oh, she’s crying,” Dabi says, tilting your chin up so he can look into your eyes. You flinch and try to jerk your head away, but his hand is still holding you by your hair and he’s so much stronger than you are. They both are, even without using their quirks. “Look at me.”

You comply, more by reflex than any real desire to obey. It’s pretty striking to Dabi how cute you look as Shigaraki pounds into you so fast and deep you can hardly catch your breath. Your eyes are glittering with unshed tears, your tits bounce with every thrust, and you’re still holding onto Dabi’s coat like your life depends on it. It’s almost like you’re pulling him closer. Adorable.

“She can…take it,” Shigaraki responds breathily between thrusts. “Such a good whore, taking my big cock in her tight little pussy…”

The backhanded compliment jars you and you feel hot tears spill over your cheeks. “I’m—not—a—whore,” you manage to say, each word punctuated with Shigaraki’s skin slapping against yours.

“Really?” Shigaraki’s pace slows and he leans closer to you so he can reach an arm around and swirl two fingers against your clit. You mewl like a kitten at the unexpected stimulation and he laughs rudely. “Feels so good…can’t believe the heroes don’t want to fuck you like this all the time…”

You shake your head desperately and bury your face in Dabi’s chest, barely noticing him stroking your hair and then reaching down to unzip his pants.

“No, no, I bet that’s what you do as a sidekick, right?” Shigaraki’s thrusts are back to frenzied jerks, and he rubs over your clit just as roughly. “Spread your legs for your hero…you’d make a great personal cocksleeve. Or maybe they rotate you around so every pro hero gets a turn…?”

“No, I don’t! No! Ah— ahnnn…” The denials pierce the air uselessly as the villain’s cock fills you up again and again. You’re not a whore, you’re not…even if it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the growing pressure of Shigaraki teasing your clit in time with his cock rubbing against your sweet spot. It still hurts—he’s so big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever had sex with before, but there’s no way you’re going to admit to yourself that it’s starting to feel good.

“…Is my cock better than All Might’s?” Shigaraki’s words are cut off by his own grunt of pleasure as your cunt twitches around him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Dabi cuts in. “I’m sick of hearing a guy’s voice moaning. I’m going to get soft.”

Past the point of comprehending the situation, you look up at him gratefully, only to reel back in shock as Dabi frees his own cock from his pants and it brushes against your cheek. Trying to pull away from him is more instinct than rational thought, but he holds you just as easily as before and forces two fingers into your mouth. You tense, ready to bite down, (and hopefully take a few knuckles off) but he sees it coming and suddenly your mouth is horribly burning hot.

“You’re going to suck my cock now,” says Dabi conversationally, extinguishing the flame almost as soon as he started it. It’s not so bad—probably more like a coffee burn than anything else—but you’re coughing and spitting anyway. “Say yes.”

“…Yes,” you whisper, voice barely intelligible.

“Good little sidekick. And you’re going to be very careful. You’re not going to use teeth.”

You nod, unable to mount a defense with Shigaraki mercilessly fucking you from behind.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Y-Yes!” you squeal as Shigaraki finds a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

“Good.” Dabi drags your head down to hover over his cock and massages your jaw until it falls open. “Suck.”

One of his hands falls to your shoulder to try to stabilize you, but you can’t help feeling the threat in the motion. You quickly duck down and attempt to ignore the heady smell of sweat and precum as you trace your tongue up the underside of his dick. He’s big too, maybe thicker than Shigaraki, and you hate yourself for feeling lucky that it’s not this cock inside your pussy right now.

The stunt Dabi pulled burning your mouth made you salivate, and you let drool coat your tongue as you lick around the head. But it’s not working—you rock forward every time Shigaraki stuffs his dick back in your aching pussy, and Dabi’s cock smears over your mouth haphazardly.

“I said suck. Not lick.” Suddenly (although you don’t know why you keep expecting some kind of warning before these villains find a new way to violate you), Dabi grabs the back of your head and shoves his cock into your mouth. Your throat constricts involuntarily as the thick head triggers your gag reflex, and all three of you shiver in unison.

“Do…do that again,” Shigaraki says, voice strained. “She tightens up…when you do that.”

Dabi smirks and thrusts into you again, relishing the warm, humid cavern of your throat around his cock along with the pure swell of energy from your quirk enhancing his. His rhythm matches Shigaraki’s and his cock hits the back of your throat with every rapid pump, making you gag and clench like you’re trying to milk the cum out of him. What a perfect little slut… He can see from Shigaraki’s sloppy movements that you’re squeezing around his cock every time too.

The feeling of having one villain cock buried in your pussy while another ravages your throat is unthinkable, even more so with Shigaraki’s fingers on your clit coaxing out an earth-shaking orgasm. But you’d almost be able to forget what’s happening—god knows you’re delirious with sensation, barely able to keep track of who’s doing what to you—if not for the sound. The wet slap of Shigaraki’s hips against your ass, the horrible squelching from your (dripping wet, even if you don’t want to admit it) pussy as his cock pistons in and out of you, your choked moans and gagging noises, and above it all, the unrestrained voices of the villains fucking into you.

You feel like a fuck toy, a sex doll, used without mercy by the two most evil people you can think of…and you’re about to cum.

Your voice is getting louder by the second, and the pulsing of your cunt around Shigaraki’s cock is telling him exactly how close you are. He curls his body over yours to get a better angle to rub your clit, enjoying your high-pitched whine in response. “Yeah…that’s right…good girl. Cum on my cock…like a good little sidekick.”

You keen and goosebumps rise on your skin as Shigaraki licks at the sheen of sweat on your back. He feels your climax almost as soon as you do… If your scream wasn’t stifled by Dabi’s dick in your mouth, everyone within a one-mile radius would know you were getting fucked silly, yeah? The walls of your pussy clamp down on Shigaraki’s cock, your body begging for his cum, and he grips your ass to make sure you can’t get away as he comes to his own orgasm inside of you.

Fuck… Shigaraki could die right now and be happy. He keeps stroking your clit, knowing it’s cruel, knowing you’ll be overstimulated and sensitive and that it’ll hurt to keep touching you like this after you already came, and not caring because every time the tips of his fingers push that little magic button, you shiver and squeeze him like you’re trying to milk him dry.

Shigaraki gives a few last thrusts, pushing his cum deeper into your body, fucking it into you so you’ll be dripping white for hours, and then finally pulls out. The slurping sound your cunt makes as his cock leaves your pussy is obscene. So is the cloudy trail of mixed white and clear fluid that connects your pussy and the head of his cock until he pulls it away. He loves it.

Knowing that Shigaraki came—inside you, no less, the inconsiderate bastard—Dabi grips the back of your head and tugs you down to deepthroat him. Your walls twitch involuntarily and Dabi groans, letting himself shoot his load down your throat. “Yes…yeah…yeah…just like that. Swallow.”

You don’t swallow. You don’t do anything but gag on his cum and gasp as he thrusts into you. Dabi pulls you off of him, annoyed and ready to threaten you into submission again…until your head lolls to the side and he can see that your eyes are closed.

“Shit, she passed out.”

“…What? Are you kidding?”

Dabi slaps your face lightly. You wince in your sleep but don’t wake up. “Nope. Must’ve been when she came the second time.”

“Is she…” Shigaraki trails off, not sure how to end the question. ‘Okay’ isn’t exactly right.

“She’s breathing, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The two of them wait for a moment, but you don’t move. When he catches his breath, Shigaraki wipes off his dick and pulls up his pants. Dabi does the same. Without them holding you, you flop down into the fetal position on the broken concrete. “What now?” Shigaraki asks.

Dabi wipes the sweat from his forehead. “You tell me, leader. I’m surprised Kurogiri hasn’t opened another warp gate to get you back. Guessing you don’t have your phone either?”

“…We can go to Giran’s place to meet up. They’re probably waiting for us there,” Shigaraki says, scratching at his neck.

“Do you have cab fare?”

“I don’t have my wallet on me. You?”

“Not enough for a cab. We’ll have to take the train. You can owe me.”

Shigaraki looks down at you. You make a pitiful scene, naked except for your boots, sports bra, and cum-soaked panties. Your neck is bruised red and purple, and you’re shaking, shivering in the cool air now that the sun has sunk further toward the horizon and you’re not being touched. “Are we going to leave her here?”

“What, you want to bring her on the train with us? You don’t think that’s gonna look suspicious?”

“Well…” Their eyes meet and Shigaraki knows Dabi’s thinking the same thing he is. You have a lot of potential as an asset. They haven’t even had the chance to see how your quirk boosting works in combat, but Shigaraki almost wants to pick a fight just to give it a try.

And fighting power aside, Shigaraki isn’t a fan of the possibility that he’ll never get to fuck you again.

“Yeah, I know. But she’s a pro hero’s sidekick. She can’t be too hard to find.” Dabi shrugs off his coat and crouches next to you. You’re limp enough that he has no trouble lifting you into his lap and guiding your arms through the sleeves of his coat. Once you’re wrapped in the black fabric, he does up the buttons, combs through your hair with his fingers, wipes the mixed cum and spittle off your chin, and admires his handiwork. Sure, anyone looking closely at you will know at least a little about what happened—you’re still sweating in the cold, you have that undeniable ‘just got fucked’ look all over you, and the smell of sex is overpowering. But at least you won’t have to walk back to the rescue tent in your filthy underwear.

In your sleep, you nuzzle into Dabi’s chest, reaching blindly toward the source of warmth. He grins and strokes the back of your neck, soothing warm fingers over the bruised skin there and enjoying his last opportunity to touch you and feel your quirk working…for now, at least. “You know, I wonder why villains don’t get sidekicks. Seems a little unfair, right?”

Shigaraki’s sneer matches Dabi’s as he bends down to run his fingernails over your cheek, almost hard enough to hurt. “I was just thinking the same thing.”