#he'd think it's the funniest thing in the fucking world

[saccharinecoffee]

peter parker the type of guy who'd film and post educational lectures on pornhub

[steviewashere]

Y'know, my sibling does this really wonderful thing to me when we're talking or arguing sometimes where they'll just turn their hearing aid off.

And I know I've read it before, of Steve turning his hearing aid off because the rooms gets too loud or something.

But if there's one thing I know, it's that Steve Harrington is a petty, petty bitch. He's in the middle of a roundabout argument with Eddie, them circling around each other like two hungry hawks, and then he remembers: Oh, I actually don't need to listen to this right now. I'm just gonna...And then he turns off his hearing aid. And he makes sure that he does it while Eddie's looking directly at him, too. Just so that he knows they're gonna revisit the argument. But right now? Right now, Steve just wants complete and utter silence.

And you may be like, that's terrible communication, Stevie.

Yeah, I know. But listen to me, it's the funniest fucking thing in the world when my sibling looks me dead-on and just turns off her hearing device.

I think he'd only turn his hearing aid off, though, when the argument is stupid and small and petty. Like, they're arguing over who last did the dishes because there's a plate that went through the dishwasher with cheese still stuck on it or something. Or maybe Eddie dried Steve's jeans and now they're too small, even though they were already small to begin with. Or something about one of them having too many water glasses on their nightstand. I don't know, just stupid, pointless shit.

Think the funniest scenario, though, is them years in the future watching something like Wife-Swap or The Real Housewives of Orange County or, even, Rupal's Drag Race. And they're having a very heated argument about who their favorite is on [insert reality TV show here]. But Steve just absolutely despises the person Eddie is choosing to defend with his honor—he's already has his daily bitch and dish session with Robin about their shared favorite reality TV show star—so he just decides to tune Eddie out.

Or they're watching a football game. And Steve's team is playing against Eddie's favorite team (he grew up watching football with Wayne). Then, there's a bogus call made against Steve's team, he is just so appalled by not only the ref's decision, but also the way Eddie is responding to it. He turns off his hearing aid for a few minutes and elects to not watch, "This utter horseshit of a game."

Give me petty, bitchy HoH/deaf Steve Harrington.

[househrt]

thinking about internalised homophobia House. I normally headcanon him as openly bi (but maybe repressed or in denial about being in love with Wilson), but I like the idea of his suggestive gay comments being a cover because he's so far in denial and gay jokes are a way of being like "haha isn't it so ridiculous and subversive to suggest I'm gay? I'm doing this for the shock value because I'm obviously straight", in the same way straight guys think gay jokes are the funniest thing in the world

his homophobic military dad and becoming independent and coming of age in the 1980s and only hearing about gay people during the AIDS crisis left him with some fucked up ideas and attitudes about gay people (and himself. and what it means to be a man)

if Wilson ever tries to confess feelings for House (or if they fall into each other on a drunken night), House would absolutely withdraw, run away, push Wilson away because House isn't gay

House then dating a woman to prove to Wilson (and everyone. and himself) that he's normal and straight

eventually, if he and Wilson start seeing each other, House would rationalise it as "technically homosexual, but not like those other gays". maybe he'd also withdraw in public where anyone could see them, and try to suppress the emotional side of things ("this is just physical, don't be a fag about it")

meanwhile, Wilson is desperately trying to be okay with the scraps of affection he gets from House, but it's killing him. he's not doing well. after pining over House for so long (knowingly? unknowingly? you decide), he didn't think it would feel like this. but maybe this is the best he deserves

[oh-no-its-bird]

It is simply an undeniable, inevitable fact of life that if you are placed on the same team as Hatake Kakashi; you will eventually get some form of crush on him.

For the lucky ones, it only lasts a few minutes before they remember themselves (and their standards.) For the unluckier ones, it can go on for much, much longer than that.

Anyways the point of this is: Team Ro individually crushing on Kakashi as they grow up. I think it's fun to think about

Itachi got it the worst, 12 years old and given this untouchable authority figure somewhat within his age range. A safe space among the ANBU, another baby genius who gets it— gets the pressure, gets being different, even gets being looked at with suspicion (for Itachi, as an Uchiha. For Kakashi, as the White Fang's son and Friend Killer Kakashi)

Luckily enough for him, this crush only lasted like a month. Or at least it only got that far before he learned how to hide it better (and, of course, he then had bigger things to think about than a silly childhood crush)

Shisui was certainly the loudest about his, with the passive sort of on and off crush you'd expect a 15 year old kid to get on his cool senior. He's not exactly good at hiding it, and honestly possibly doesn't espexially care to. It's embaressing but also, have you seen Kakashi in action? Shisui won't apologize for his tastes!

Shisui is the kind of guy to have a few different crushes in a few different people at a time— maybe if one of them actually looked back at him, he'd form a genuine crush but till then he's just kinda looking respectfully and sighing wistfully about how cool and strong they are

Tenzo certainly got it the worst, rocking a years long crush on his personal hero that's only managed to fade a little in recent years as an adult (usually when he's faced with Kakashi being a deliberate bastard in his general direction)

But like. Kakashi being his personal hero, an untouchable figure when he's a kid that slowly grows into a real home and safe space/person— feeling more and more real to Tenzo with each passing year

Tbh, specifically Itachi having a crush on Kakashi as a kid is the funniest thing to me. It's not reciprocated to be clear, Itachi was like 11 when Kakashi was like 17 and it was a silly, kiddie, puppy crush of "my captain is so cool..." where Itachi himself probably didn't even have the full context for what he was feeling.

But like, specifically from the angle of them both in their 20's and Sasuke learning that, as a kid, his awful evil genocidal brother had a crush on... HIS teacher????!?!?? What the FUCK.

Funniest thing in the world. Kakashi is 2 for 3 of the living Uchiha's having a childhood crush on him and that's beautiful to me. You go king!

Anyways actually, idea for the WORST conversation ever (aka the funniest thing:)

Tenzo for some reason being a temporary prisoner of the Akatsuki, and Itachi standing guard. And Itachi very awkwardly asks about Kakashi. And what proceeds is the most painful

"...do you still have a crush on him?"

"No. (yes) Do you?"

"No. (Yes.)"

-type conversation EVER. Tenzo can not believe this bastards balls actually. Get the FUCK away from his senpai.

Actually: horrible alternative, that exact situation but with Sasuke. Itachi has him captured and, very much not wanting to talk about the elephant in the room, blurts out the first thing he can think about: How is Kakashi doing?

Sasuke, who hasn't interacted w Kakashi since declaring he wanted to kill him: ?????

Sasuke is coming out of this conversation going "god fucking dammit Itachi is EVERYONE more important to you than me !?!??"

Later Sasuke runs into Kakashi and screams something about hating him and that hoping Itachi's nasty ass crush on him means Itachi will kill him next so Sasuke doesn't have to dirty his own hands

Kakashi, who was completley unaware that Itachi had ever had a crush on him and is not enjoying this new knowledge: ????

Tenzo who already knew and is somehow enjoying this knowledge even less than Kakashi is: ...

In general tbh I wish we'd gotten more team Ro interactions as adults, I think there's so much potential there. Tenzo, Kakashi and Itachi were around eachother for what was arguably some of the most vulnerable times of their lives, for multiple years. That must have left some sort of mark ??

And I mean, we so get to see the lasting impact via Tenzo and Kakashi's friendship but come on!!! How does Itachi play into that equasion!! I know he has to somehow!

Anyways yeah: Kakashi following in his dads sexyman footsteps without even realizing it,,, it delights me to think about.

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"WHAT ARE YOU WEARING BABY?"

I WROTE ANOTHER FIC WITH BUCKY

When I saw this photo on the internet I inmediatly thought about THIS IDEA WITH HIM (I need him so bad guys, and the long hair? and the metal arm? and the fucking white tank? and the way he holds the phone I'M GOING TO PASS OUT)

I hope you like it! ☝🖤😊

WARNING: EXPLICIT SMUT UNDER THE CUT

Bucky had been gone for several days on a mission with the Red Guardian.

You didn't know what the hell they were doing since the soldier had insisted on keeping you out of it, but what you did know was that the two of them got along really well, what with the whole thing about them both having super-soldier serum in their systems and all that.

Every time they spoke, Alexei made a point of reminding Buck that he'd been given the "cool" serum, according to him, and that he'd been given the "real" one.

If Bucky were still the Winter Soldier, and he'd uttered those same words in his presence, he would have lasted five seconds, but since he wasn't anymore, he just laughed with him, as if he'd been told the funniest joke in the world.

Needless to say, you missed him a lot.

A lot was an understatement; you missed him SO MUCH.

Not just his presence and his raspy, masculine voice, but all of him. It had been several days since your fingers had helped you relieve the pleasure you were feeling, so you decided to call him.

He did it every day around that time, so this time you decided to turn things around.

You curled up in bed and waited for him to pick up the phone.

"Hey, doll," he answered. You smiled at the cheerful tone of his voice.

"Hey, Buck," you greeted. "Am I catching you at a bad time?"

"No, we just got back from dinner," he said as you heard him sit up in bed. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's just that I needed to hear your voice," you whispered. "I miss you so much."

"And I miss you, precious," he murmured. "This is the first time we've spent so much time apart, and just the fact that tomorrow morning I won't be able to wake up next to you with your hair tickling my nose and my arms around you is driving me crazy."

"Oh yeah?" "You tempted him. Tell me more."

His husky laugh filled the line for a few moments.

"I see where you're going with this, doll." You couldn't see him, but you knew he was smiling. "I want to hold you in my arms again like we were the day before I left, in our bed, our bodies tangled and sweaty after I made you cum more than three times," he explained. "I want to kiss you, fuck you with my fingers, and rest my metal hand on your throat like I know you like," he whispered, causing you to let out a low sigh. "What are you wearing, baby?"

"Just my underwear," you replied, causing him to swear softly.

"Doll…" he growled. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he questioned. "You make me want to get on a damn plane to get back to you and satisfy you like you deserve," he blurted out. "But for now, that'll have to do." He laughed. "It's better than nothing, don't you think?"

"Yes," you sighed, biting your lower lip as you remembered the feel of his. "Buck, please…"

"Please. What, darling?" he demanded. "Tell me."

"Keep talking," you gasped, shifting against the blankets, causing the super-soldier to hear the rustling through the line.

"I can picture you absolutely clearly in my mind," he continued, "with your white lace underwear and your eyes shining with desire," he whispered. "Tell me, is this what you look like right now?"

"Yes," you affirmed, looking at your reflection in the mirror of your bedroom closet, which Bucky had decided to place there for obvious reasons.

"Touch yourself for me, doll," he whispered. "Imagine it's my fingers opening and stretching that beautiful pussy of yours, stimulating your clit, making you squirm in search of your pleasure."

Your fingers had already slipped in a while ago, sliding them inside you, stimulating you just as he had said.

Bucky heard the wet sounds that crossed the line, which made him smile.

"Good girl," he whispered. "So good for me, so… obedient," he murmured. "Maybe I should give you a reward when I get home."

"Yes, please, Bucky…" you gasped as you hit your clit with your fingertips.

"I need you to be a good girl for me now, princess. Can you do it?" "He asked."

"Yes," you answered with difficulty, trying to contain your moans. "Whatever it is, I'll do it, Buck."

"As desperate as ever," he laughed. "I need you to cum, baby," he murmured. "Cum for me."

"I've never done this before, Buck," you gasped. "What if I can't get you to cum?"

"You will," he affirmed. "I trust you, doll. Listen to my voice," he whispered. You nodded. "I love you baby, you know that, right?"

"I know," you moaned. "I love you too, Buck." You gasped. "I think I'm going to… I'm going to cum."

"Do it, princess, cum for me."

Moments later, you talked a little more, and when you went to sleep, you felt calm and happy.

You had never slept so well in your entire life.

[annarobszombies]

I think I'm funny and that's all that matters

StanXeno x gn!reader

In which the American colony is extremely confused about what exactly is going on with their leader and his right and left hand people

Warnings: language, smoking, general confusion over polyamory, suggestive, definitely some ooc-ness happening here

You're lazing in bed, Xeno's body covering yours, head resting on your chest while you play with his hair when you first hear of the confused rumors making their rounds through the colony. 

It's Stanley who tells you, strutting into the room and throwing himself down onto the bed next to you. He presses a kiss to your cheek and Xeno's head, cuddling up to your side. 

"I overheard some of the others yellin' earlier," He says. His words make Xeno groan and bury his face deeper into your chest. 

"Over what now?" He asks. 

"Us," Stanley huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he remembers the conversation he'd heard. 

"What about us?" Xeno asks, sitting up onto his elbows to look at Stanley's grinning face. 

"No one seems to realize that the three of us are together," Stanley says. "They all think we're dating each other." 

"We are though," You say, eyebrows furrowing. 

"They think we're a pair and a third wheel. They can't seem to agree on who the pair is." 

A hand covers your mouth, laughter exploding out of you as Stanley continues to explain what was being whispered about under all your noses. 

Apparently, it had started when you had given your okay for one of the colonists to undertake a project in Xeno's stead. He'd supposedly made a comment about your ass when you walked away, and Charlotte had jumped to your defense, claiming you to be Stanley's spouse. 

Which had another person claiming that it was actually Xeno who was your lover, and a third who swore it was Stanley and Xeno who were in the relationship. No one had considered for a moment that all of the options could be correct at once. 

Though, you had to give Charlotte credit, you were legally married to Stanley in the old world for the military benefits, even though the three of you had always considered yourselves spouses to each other and at one time had rings to match. 

“That’s the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” You say through your laughter. Stanley joins in your amusement, snorting out another chuckle of his own as the moment hits him yet again. Xeno, however, remains quiet. Contemplating, for a moment, what to do next. 

“Shall we run an experiment?” He asks, rolling onto your other side so that he and Stanley now have you sandwiched between them. 

“Oh?” You lean into him, silently encouraging him to continue. 

“I believe our colony is suffering from lack of basic information gathering and observational skills. I would not call our love for each other overly subtle at all, and yet it appears they have all collectively missed the mark. What’s say we test how long it takes before someone finally puts the pieces together?” Xeno says, tapping at his chin thoughtfully. “Though, I worry that this experiment may never end unless we make ourselves significantly more obvious.”

“What are the parameters? There has to be a way we can accurately measure people’s understanding of what’s happening,” You say. Xeno hums thoughtfully. 

“I'm not sure,” He says. “I'll admit, psychological experiments are not where my expertise lies.” 

“Let’s just fuck with them.”

You and Xeno both look at Stanley, who’s lit a fresh cigarette. 

“Being openly affectionate with each other could encourage more conversation, which would be the best way to gather their thoughts. Perhaps we could also make an anonymous poll and log their answers on a weekly basis,” Xeno says, already making mental calculations.

Xeno and Stanley said two very different things, but are so clearly on the same page. You can tell they’ve known each other for a very long time. It almost makes you a little jealous. Almost. 

-

The colony explodes with rushed questions and confused conversations. A large sheet of paper had been hung in the dining area asking people to vote on who they thought was in a relationship with who, with three options. 

You and Stanley.

You and Xeno.

Xeno and Stanley.

No one knew who made it, or who put it up. It had no name, no one recognized the handwriting, and not a single one of the three of you seemed too interested in it. At most, it got a raised eyebrow from Xeno, but little else. You and Stanley barely even looked at it. 

By the end of the first day it was posted, there were equal votes between the pairings.

-

Luna’s face was burning hot, her whole body shaking as she tried to be as silent as possible so as to not get caught. Which was seriously hard considering what she had just walked in on.

Stanley had you against a wall, your legs around his waist, his lips pressing seriously hot kisses into yours.

She was going to be haunted by the noises you two were making for weeks.

-

“My love, if you would,” Xeno’s words make Brody jump a little. The man watches you flit from the other side of the room to your great leader’s side, pressing close to him. 

Xeno hands you something, catching you in a quick kiss before sending you off to do whatever task he’d assigned. 

“I’ll be right back,” You say, earning yourself a hum. 

“Do hurry, I miss you far too much when you’re gone,” Xeno says, making you grin and your cheeks flush a nice pink. 

“Flatterer,” You coo, already heading towards the door. The look you flash Brody as you pass him is downright mischievous, leaving the engineer wondering just what exactly he was missing here.

-

Xeno’s chest heaves with heavy pants, his hand swiping over his mouth to remove the lipstick that Stanley had smeared over him before another colonist had wandered into the room without knocking to get Xeno’s opinion on something. 

Stanley narrows his eyes at the poor fool, who stares at them with flushed cheeks and wide eyes. 

“Get out.” Stanley hisses, “Xeno’s fucking busy.” 

“Yes sir!” 

-

Your little experiment goes on for weeks. The poll gets changed out on a regular basis in order for Xeno to note how things do or don’t change based on whether you all are caught being affectionate with each other. However, it spurs something none of you had expected. A new rumor rushes through the colony, one that was far less fun or interesting. 

“I think they’re all cheating on each other with each other.” 

You’re the one to hear that one, whispered hurriedly between Luna and Charlotte as you walk by to meet with Xeno for an update on some issues with the cows you’d been looking into. Both the young women look at you with wide eyes before scattering when they realize you’re standing nearby. 

Well, that wasn’t good. 

You spend the day thinking about it, about how quickly that had spread, and how it could affect the morale of the colony. If people thought Xeno wasn’t a faithful partner, his abilities as a leader could come into question. Not only that, but one of the reasons people still followed Xeno was because he was genuinely likeable. If resentment towards him started to creep around due to rumors of him being a part of some affair, things could take a turn for the worse. Sure, it may be a bit of a stretch, but it still worries you nonetheless. 

It’s still on your mind when you walk into the lab the next day, where Xeno and Stanley wait for you along with several other colonists. You wonder how they don’t feel the weight of the tension in the room when you enter. 

A frown presses into your face. The dissent you worried about was already growing; you were going to have to end the experiment. And if Xeno’s expression told you anything, he was thinking the same.

-

The truth comes out by elaborate design.

It starts with someone ‘finding’ the weeks of collected polls in one of Xeno’s storage cabinets after he sent them to get something else for him. After that, you make a comment about your husbands, making sure to carefully enunciate the plurality of the word, during a conversation. The final blow comes during dinner one night. 

You enter the dining hall, where a majority of the colony was gathered for their evening meal, and head straight to where Xeno and Stanley were waiting for you. The three of you rarely eat with everyone like this, so between that and the continued confusion and rumors, everyone’s eyes are on you. 

“Sorry I’m late,” You say, joining them at their chosen table. “I got caught up with something.” 

“No worries, my love,” Xeno says, nice and loud. 

“We don’t mind waiting for you,” Stanley adds. 

You smile, eyes glancing quickly around the room before looking at Xeno for confirmation. He gives the subtlest of nods, signaling his okay. 

Leaning your elbows on the table, you speak loud enough for everyone to hear without yelling. 

“So, for tonight, I was thinking that we could all go stargazing,” You say. “It is my turn to pick what we do.” 

“We’re creating light pollution here, so if we want to see anything worthwhile, we’ll have to travel for that,” Xeno says. 

“Fine with me,” Stanley says. “Long as we’re together, I don’t care.” 

You beam at the two of them, pushing up to stretch your body over the table and press kisses to them both. First to Xeno, then to Stanley. 

“Perfect,” You coo.

-

“What the fuck just happened?”

“I have no idea.”

“Wait, are they all dating each other?” 

“Can you do that?!”

“I…I have no idea…”

“I don’t see why they couldn’t. I mean, do the rules of the old world still really matter here?” 

“...who do you think was the third?” 

A whole new argument rushes through the colony.

[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter VI

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 8.928 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW (p in v, unprotected, implied m!masturbation); Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

OMG Bonnie what is that? A JJ chapter? Yeah, maybe I went insane. Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading <3

JJ takes a slow step forward, his shoulders rolling back, his fingers still coiled tight around the handlebars of his bike. There’s a heat rolling off of him, a barely contained energy that makes your stomach twist.

His gaze drifts over to you. The rage burning through his eyes as he climbs down, drifting through Rafe’ arms, how they wrap around you, how close he’s holding you to him. – What’s going on, huh? – His voice is taught, barely restrained. You think of the hiss a rattlesnake makes before pouncing, the barely restrained violence simmering under each sound. – What are you doing here?

– I could ask you the same thing, Maybank. – Rafe hums. You call his name, trying to reel him back before it gets dangerous, but he seems entertained more than anything. – We’re a little far from the salvation army. Not much for you to do around here.

– Rafe!

The kook holds your hand to his chest when you push him, smiling down at you like it’s the funniest thing in the world. – I’m just having a little fun with him, that’s all.

– Get off of her, Rafe.

He’s looking at you with a focus that’s never a good sign, but don’t miss the way his eyes flick to where Rafe’s hand still lingers at your waist. The moment stretches, thick with the weight of his anger, but you can’t bring yourself to move first.

Rafe doesn’t bother hiding his grin. If anything, it grows, slow and deliberate, like this is the most fun he’s had all night. – Why? You scared she won’t come back when she realizes there’s more to life than being leeched off of by her brother’s friends?

– Rafe, this isn’t funny.

– JJ must think it is, it’s the only thing he does well. – Rafe drawls, tilting his head as he finally steps back from you—but not without dragging his fingers along your side, a pointed reminder. – Right, JJ?

JJ’s lips press into a thin line. His fingers flex around the handlebars, his nostrils flaring as he exhales hard through his nose. His gaze cuts to you now, sharp and demanding. – What the hell are you doing with this asshole?

His voice grates you. Every word echoing in your head like nails on a chalkboard.

– This is none of your business, JJ.

He doesn’t even pretend to hear you. – Kie told me what happened at work. We were all worried about you.

You open your mouth, but Rafe hums before you can speak, stepping in again, loose and easy, barely putting in effort but still commanding all the space between you. – Worried? Were you worried that you’re finally gonna have to get a job and deal with your own shit?!

– You don’t know what you’re talking about, okay?! Shut the fuck up!

– Or what? Are you gonna freeload off of me too?

JJ moves before you can stop him. His bike crashes to the pavement as he lunges, fists already clenched, fury twisting his face. Rafe barely shifts, like he’s been expecting this all along, like he’s been waiting for the moment he can finally push JJ over the edge.

– THIS SHIT ISN’T ABOUT YOU RAFE!

You step in fast, hands catching JJ’s arm before he can swing, your pulse hammering. – JJ, don’t. Fuck off. Don’t fucking do this right now.

– He’s the one who needs to fuck off! We’re talking right now, it’s none of his fucking business! – His breath is ragged, his muscles stiff under your grip. But Rafe just grins, smug and taunting, eyes alight with something dark. – Tell him to go away.

– You can’t tell me that yourself? Is that how much of a bitch you are, JJ?

JJ lunges, nearly pushing you into the asphalt by mistake. Rafe’s the one that catches you, his hand steadying you as you hold JJ back. – LET GO OF ME!

– JJ step the fuck back, I’m not even kidding you.

– He started it!

Rafe whistles lowly, laughing just under his breath as his arm wraps around you again. – Your brother really knows how to pick them, doesn’t he?

– Not helping, Rafe.

– I’m just trying to enjoy myself while you talk him down from his tantrum. I’m great.

– Stop fucking talking to her like that!

– Or what? You gonna hit me? – He muses, tilting his head, like the thought actually amuses him. – Go ahead, man. Take your shot. I bet it’ll feel real good.

JJ’s jaw tightens, his arm twitching under your hold. You can feel the war inside him, the barely restrained urge to throw that punch, to finally give Rafe the fight he’s clearly asking for.

But you don’t let go.

And JJ doesn’t swing.

For a second, the only sound is the thick silence between you.

Then Rafe sighs, exaggerated and disappointed. – Shame, – He mutters, stepping back, shaking his head like JJ’s let him down. – I was really hoping you’d play along, JJ. It’s been what? A week since you last got arrested? Has it ever been so long? I bet they’re missing you down at the station.

He flashes a grin at you, sharp and knowing, before brushing past, hands moving over your back like he owns you. – Y’know what, baby? We should really get going. I’m getting kinda bored.

– You’re out of your fucking mind if you think she’s going anywhere with you.

– JJ. – You warn, but he doesn’t seem to hear you.

– She came here with me, buddy. Maybe you wanna look around you. – He glances at you, blue eyes gleaming as he takes you by the arm. – C’mon. It’s getting late, right? Your brother’s probably struggling to figure out the oven right now.

– You don’t know what the fuck your talking about. – JJ growls.

– You’re gonna go home with this pogue? –The question comes out in a hum, almost condescendingly. His laughter thrills up your spine like a shiver of fear. – You’re gonna let him strongarm you like this?

You swallow, breathing in deep.

Rafe’s grip on your arm tightens, fingers warm against your skin, but you don’t move. His smirk twitches—just barely—before he tilts his head, watching you with curiosity, even if the smile he’s giving you doesn’t seem too pleased.

JJ notices too. He exhales sharply, barely holding himself together. – You’re not leaving with him.

His voice is low, coarse. And he’s clinging, moving his arms within your hold like a whiny kid. But it’s not a plea. It’s a demand.

Rafe hums under his breath, low and pleased, like this is all going exactly how he wanted. – She’s not staying for you, JJ. – He flicks his gaze over, like he’s looking at something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. – You have John B’s useless ass to thank for her not leaving with me right now.

JJ clenches his jaw so tight you swear you hear his molars crack. – Shut the fuck up, Rafe.

Rafe grins, slow and knowing. – I will if she makes me. Right, baby? Maybe you can give me a goodnight kiss before I go.

JJ takes a step forward, but you press a hand to his chest, stopping him. He seethes, nostrils flaring, but you shake your head. – Just go, Rafe. Please. – Your voice isn’t sharp—it’s tired, annoyed.

And that’s exactly why Rafe thrives on it.

He tsks, squeezing your waist in his hold on you before pulling his keys from his pocket. – That’s okay. We’ll have plenty of time for that tomorrow, right? – He leans in, voice dipping lower. – You can make it up to me.

You sigh, rubbing your temple. – Rafe—

– You’re cute when you get all flustered. – He laughs, tapping your chin with his knuckle. – I’ll call you later.

JJ lunges, and it takes everything in you to shove him back.

Rafe just whistles, all relaxed amusement, stepping back with an easy grin. – Damn, Maybank, you’re really gonna let her hold you back like that?

JJ is shaking in anger, chest heaving.

Rafe doesn’t wait for an answer. He shoots you a wink and a lazy salute before finally turning away, tossing over his shoulder, – Don’t miss me too much, baby.

JJ exhales sharply, shaking off your hold. His head drops for a second, his hands clenching at his sides before he looks at you, eyes blazing. – What the hell was that?

You swallow hard, the weight in your chest pressing down heavy. – JJ—

But he shakes his head. – Nah. No way. You don’t get to brush this off. – His voice is rough, disbelief coating every syllable. – Tell me you’re not— He stops himself, exhaling sharply again before taking a step back, shaking his head like he’s trying to make sense of it. – Tell me you’re not seriously falling for this shit.

You don’t know what to say.

Because maybe you don’t have an answer he wants to hear.

– Oh my God. – You don’t know what exactly in his face shifts, but you feel the air around you thicken. – You are, aren’t you?!

– Spare me the outrage, JJ. I’m not in the mood for your lectures.

– The guy is a fucking psychopath! There’s no fucking way you do’t see that! He’s insane!

You roll your eyes, a sigh falling from your lips before you can think of it. – You say that like you’re some sort of model of normalcy.

– I can’t fucking believe you!

– I don’t fucking need you to believe me, JJ. Clearly you fucking don’t. It doesn’t matter what I say, you already have your pitchfork ready! So what exactly am I supposed to be getting out of this?! Huh? Tell me. – A beat of silence lingers between you, as you turn your back on him. It’s long past 6 PM. The sky is pitch-black. – Can we just go? I don’t wanna do this.

You can see the gears turn in his head when you speak. His eyes soften, jaw unclentching. – I’m trying to look out for you. – You scoff. – Look, I know you’re stressed and all, but you don’t need to be taking it out on me, okay?! Chill out.

– Thanks, Mother Teresa. I feel much calmer now.

– Can we just put down the boxing gloves, right now?!

– I don’t know JJ, can we? I can’t put my guard down with you for a moment. Because that’s what you do. You tell me I should calm down, and when I do, you come up with some insane shit to piss me off all over again!

JJ watches you, chest still rising and falling like he’s trying to catch a breath that won’t come. Then his expression shifts—like something clicks into place, like he’s realizing something he doesn’t like.

His lips curl, his tongue running over the inside of his cheek. – Are you serious? – His voice is quieter now, almost disbelieving. – This is where we’re at?

You shake your head, swallowing back the lump in your throat. – I don’t want to do this right now, JJ.

– Oh, that’s rich. You don’t wanna do this right now? – He lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. – You wanna pick a better time? Should I make an appointment? Because it’s like you never have time for me these days! You’ll speak your mind, talk all the game you fucking want, but when it’s time to talk about my feelings, suddenly you’re too tired to deal!

Your stomach twists.

JJ scoffs. – You know, I keep trying. I keep trying to get through to you, and you just— He stops, shakes his head again, shoving a hand through his hair like that’ll help get rid of some of the frustration bleeding off of him.

– Trying to what, JJ? What is it that you’re trying to get through to me so much? That I can’t even talk to people while you go around fucking whatever girl you want? – The words come out before you can stop them.

– That’s funny, I don’t remember leaving with your mortal enemy!

– And I don’t remember kissing your best friend after leaving your bed, JJ. But here we are!

JJ goes still.

For a second, neither of you speak.

Then he exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head like you’ve just confirmed something he was trying not to believe. – There you go again, – He mutters, half in laughter, half in scorn. – You’re insane. Like. You’re actually sick in the fucking head. You and Rafe are perfect for each other. Maybe that’s why you’re here right? I was too normal, so you got bored. And that’s why you’re here in the Country Club, fucking that psychopath!

You stare at him, heart still pounding, but there’s something else gnawing at the edges of your mind now—something off. Something you didn’t notice in the heat of it all.

The country club.

You’re not at your job.

You’re not at home.

You’re not even on your side of the island.

Your stomach twists again.

– JJ, – you start, voice quieter now.

But he doesn’t hear it, or he doesn’t care. He scoffs again, throwing his hands in the air as he turns away, pacing. – I should’ve known. I should’ve listened to John B. He always said you were fucking twisted! But leave it to me! It’s my fault or thinking you could act like a person for once!

Your pulse stutters.

You don’t even register his words.

You don’t remember telling him where you were.

Your job isn't anywhere near the Country Club. You didn’t text him. You didn’t call him.

So how did he find you?

Your skin prickles as you stare at him, the words barely coming out. – JJ... how did you know I was here?

– What?! – He laughs, like you’ve just said something stupid, but you’re not gonna let him do this. Keeping your face neutral, even while your blood runs cold, you repeat:

– How did you know where I was? – He looks at you for a moment, frozen in place. You don’t even see him breathe. But the thoughts run wild behind his eyes, his mouth hanging open, unable to keep up with the speed at which his mind is running. – Answer me. How did you know I was here, JJ?

– I— He swallows, looking between each of your eyes frantically. – I was gonna pick you up at work,

– At a quarter to seven PM? You know I get the bus. It leaves at 5:20. You know that.

– Why are you making a big deal out of this?! I was driving to the wreck and I saw you here—

– No you weren’t. The wreck is East. To get here, you need to be going West.

He’s quiet again.

– Are you following me? How did you even— Realization dawns on you. JJ and John had your phone all day after you left. The notification you saw when you finally got it back, was from your maps app, which you’ve never opened in your life. You pull your phone out of your pocket. The location is on, but you don’t remember activating it. You open your messages. The latest contact is JJ. But you haven’t texted him in days. The chat is empty. – You sent my phone location to yourself, didn’t you? You and John are fucki— Your voice dies within your throat. The hair at the back of your neck standing. – John doesn’t have my password, though.

– You’re acting insane.

– How the fuck did you figure out my password, JJ? It’s a thousand characters long. I expect that shit from Pope, but— You stop again, opening your settings. A second fingerprint is set there, next to yours. – What the fuck is wrong with you?

– Don’t turn this around right now!

– That’s rich, JJ! And I’m the one who’s insane?! You’re a fucking stalker!

JJ scoffs, but it’s different now—less angry, more… wounded. Like you just slapped him in the face instead of uncovering something deeply fucked up. He shakes his head, stepping back like he needs distance from you.

– Are you serious right now? – His voice is quieter, rougher. – After everything?

You stare at him, blood still thrumming in your ears. – After everything? JJ, you just—

– No, you don’t get it. You don’t fucking get it. – He lets out a breathless laugh, dragging his hand down his face. – I knew something was off. I knew you were pulling away. I knew you were sneaking around, lying to me—

– I’m pulling away because you’re messing around with Kie!

– I’m not! Baby, I— He’s slapping himself, pulling out his hair. – I was trying to make you jealous, okay?! I just want you to pay attention to me! But you’re either glued to your phone talking to Barry, or you’re around John B, doing everything for him, everything I want you to do for me!

– What the fuck are you talking about?! He’s my fucking brother, JJ!

– BUT HE DOESN’T DESERVE IT! – He screams, the vitriol burning against his lips like acid. – He was always horrible to you, and I was there! I was there! I wanted you!

– What are you talking about?! You’ve hated me since we were kids!

– NO! I— I wanted you to look at me. I just wanted you to—Please. Just look at me, okay? I don’t want you sneaking around with Barry or with Rafe, or whatever! I want you here! With me!

– Sneaking around—JJ, you broke into my fucking phone—

– Because you wouldn’t fucking talk to me! – His voice cracks on the last word, and it throws you for a second—because the anger is still there, but there’s something else now, something desperate. His hands are in his hair, gripping like he’s holding himself together. – Do you even hear yourself? Do you even care? Or are you just gonna act like I’m some fucking psycho and not the guy who’s been there for you? The guy who—who has wanted you since I was kid?!

Your breath catches.

JJ exhales sharply, jaw clenching like he hates himself for saying it, for letting it slip out in the middle of this.

– You were there for me. – He continues. – When your brother couldn’t be. When my dad started— When he drank. You remember that, don’t you? You took care of me. You always took care of me. John B couldn’t get that! Even if he tried, y’know, who knows, maybe he did! But he was always this golden boy! Your dad, he— He treated him like he could do no wrong— He’d never get it. But you did! You always got me!

You’re quiet. Because you remember.

You remember taking a beating for JJ the day John sent you there to give him his surfboard. You remember laying there on the floor, his dad pulling you by the hair, because you stood there while JJ ran. You remember the face he made when his dad threw you out.

How he fell apart in your arms.

How you remained there, holding him, as he bled through your clothes.

And it tears you apart.

Because the way he spoke to you before, is exactly the way his father used to speak to him.

– But yeah. Sure. I’m the stalker. I’m the crazy one. – He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. – You’re so fucking worried about me following you, but you don’t care that you’re running straight to him! – His eyes flash with something sharp, something dark. – You think he gives a shit about you? You think Rafe fucking Cameron isn’t watching your every move, waiting for you to fuck up so he can sink his claws in? Like Barry did? – He steps forward, voice lowering like he’s telling you some ugly secret.

Your heart jumps in your chest at the mention. JJ knows this is a low blow. – You don’t know anything about Barry and me.

– I know he hurt you. – He’s almost pleading. – He hurt you because you were with him, when you should’ve been with me.

– JJ—

– I did this to protect you. Let me protect you. Like you protected me.

There it is. The flip.

You feel like you might faint.

JJ exhales shakily, his fingers flexing like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands anymore. The anger is fizzling out, but what’s left is somehow worse—smaller. He looks at you, really looks at you, and suddenly it’s like all the fight drains out of him.

– I can’t keep doing this. – His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. He shakes his head, eyes flickering away like he’s embarrassed, like you’ve just torn him down completely. – I don’t—I don’t know how else to prove it to you. How else to make you see that I just wanted to keep you safe.

His shoulders drop. He looks exhausted.

– But you don’t believe me. You won’t ever fucking believe me, will you? – He laughs, but it’s hollow, broken. – It doesn’t matter what I do. Doesn’t matter that I would literally die for you—Jesus Christ, I would, and you don’t even fucking see it. I’d do anything for you, and you’re just standing there, looking at me like I’m a fucking monster.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

– I mean—fuck, what am I supposed to do? Huh? – His voice cracks. His eyes are glassy now, but he swipes a hand over his face before anything can fall. – You want me to apologize? I will. You want me to beg? Fine. – He laughs breathlessly, shoulders shaking as he sinks down onto the curb like his body just gave up. – I’ll fucking beg.

Your stomach twists.

– Just— he exhales, hands clinging to your hips. – Can we go home? – His voice is so quiet now, so defeated. – Please. I don’t wanna fight anymore. I don’t wanna—fuck, I don’t even care. Just let me take you home. That’s all I want.

He looks up at you, and for the first time tonight, he looks fragile. Worn down. Like he’s carrying something too heavy for him, and the only thing keeping him from collapsing is you.

And God help you, part of you wants to believe him.

– JJ. – Your voice is sharp, but your hands are shaking. – This isn’t about that—this isn’t about you wanting to take me home. This is about what you did—

– I know! – he cuts in, his breath coming too fast, too uneven. His hands fist in his hair, like he’s trying to hold himself together by sheer force. – I know, okay? I fucked up, I fucking know— He stumbles over his own words, gasping, like the weight of it is physically pressing down on him. – But I can’t—

His voice breaks.

– I can’t lose you over this. Over Rafe fucking Cameron and his bullshit.

The air between you shifts. Something inside him just collapses.

– Please. – His chest is heaving, his eyes wet, his whole body trembling like he’s about to snap. – I don’t—I don’t know how to make you stay. I don’t know how to fix this. – His voice cracks again, and this time, his knees buckle.

You barely have time to react before he’s falling into you, grabbing fistfuls of your clothes, his breath hitching against your belly. His whole body is shaking.

– I’m sorry. – His words spill out in a frantic, broken rush. – I’m so fucking sorry. Please—please don’t go. Just—just let me take you home, baby, please—

His arms tighten around you, like if he holds on hard enough, he can force you to stay. And God, you shouldn’t. You should push him away, make him listen, make him answer for this.

But he’s crying.

JJ Maybank—loud, reckless, impossible JJ—is sobbing into you like a little kid, like he’s breaking apart right in front of you.

You inhale shakily, your hands hovering before you finally give in, falling before him on the ground, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his hair.

– It’s okay, – you whisper, even though it isn’t. Even though nothing is.

But it’s all he wants to hear.

JJ exhales sharply, his whole body collapsing into yours with something like relief. – Don’t leave me.

– I won’t.

And maybe you mean it.

Maybe that’s the scariest part.

You let him fall apart against you, his body wracked with silent tremors as he clings to you like a lifeline. His breath is uneven, ragged, hot against your skin, and his fingers fist into your top, desperate, like letting go isn’t an option. He presses closer, his whole body sinking into yours, like he’s trying to disappear inside you, like that’s the only place he might be safe.

And you let him. You hold him as his shoulders shake, as he fights to keep from outright sobbing, as the weight of whatever broke him presses down so hard you swear you can feel it, too. He’s unraveling in your arms, piece by piece, like he’s been holding himself together for so long that the second you touched him, he lost the strength to keep pretending.

So you kiss the top of his head, soft but steady, and something in him shifts.

JJ exhales, a long, shuddering breath against your skin, like you’ve reached inside him and pulled all that tension from his chest. His body, wound so tightly, begins to loosen—his grip on you eases, but only enough for his hands to smooth over your back instead of clutching desperately. He leans into you now not just from pain, but from something quieter, something softer.

You feel it in the way his breathing slows, in the way the tremors start to fade as your fingers trace slow circles over his back. His arms tighten around you again, but it’s different this time—not frantic, not desperate. Just… needing you. Needing to be here, against you, in your warmth, in this small, quiet moment where he can finally let go.

His face stays buried in the crook of your neck, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse but steady.

– I’m sorry, – He murmurs, again and again, lips moving against your skin.

You shake your head slightly, your fingers still stroking his back. – It’s okay.

And maybe for him, it actually is. Maybe just for a moment, with your hands in his hair and his body wrapped around yours, he feels something like peace. He doesn’t let go—not yet. He holds on, reveling in the comfort you offer, pressing into you like he never wants to leave. Like you’re the first real breath of air he’s had in a long time.

You stay like that, until the silence grows too heavy and you sigh. – We should go.

JJ doesn’t argue. He pulls back slowly, blinking, his eyes still red-rimmed but calmer, softer. His fingers linger at your waist before he finally steps up, exhaling like he’s reluctant to leave the space you created for him.

The drive is quiet, with him pulling your arms tighter around him everytime he gets the chance. You don’t protest. For a moment it's almost comforting, sitting on the back of his bike, without a word being spoken between you. But the feeling sits there, in your chest, that shiver you got when you realized he’s been following you.

It's not just caution.

It's not strangeness.

It's fear. A real, tangible fear of what he did, of what he can still do. Of what he might have continued doing had you not realized it. —It curls up around your throat, that fear. Pressing against your windpipe. You almost struggle to breathe.— You remain there, arms fastened around him as he slows down, pulling the brakes just before your house, even when he finally stops.

JJ leans back into you, breathing deep, clutching your hand to his chest, his body completely relaxed against yours. You’re still wondering. Mind still running.

How long had he followed you for?

Had he been trailing you? Close behind, just out of reach, or had he stared at your location, waiting, watching you without seeing you?

You don’t know which is worse.

– John B’s with Sarah tonight. – JJ mumbles, his head thrown back against your shoulder, the ends of his hair tickling your face. – I saw him sneak out. He’s probably gonna sleep there. – You hum, not really sure of what to say. – Pope and Kie are gone too. – His thumb brushes over the back of your hand slowly, his voice growing deeper, lower. – It’s just the two of us now.

You don’t say anything.

You don’t know what to say.

JJ looks back as you throw your leg over the other side of the bike, and climb down. He still clings to your hand like he’s got you on a leash: you have to remain there as he pulls the key from the ignition, as he sets his things in the top-box, as he leans back against the seat, pulling you in for a kiss.

You meet his mouth briefly, close-lipped, his fingers interlocking with yours as he pulls you in for another, and another, and one more. – I missed this. – He whispers, eyes barely open, already leaning in again.

– It’s been two days. – You remind him, but JJ only laughs.

– Two too many.

You don’t resist when he pulls you closer. His hands find your hips, sliding beneath the waistband of your jeans, calloused fingers pressing into the small of your back like he’s trying to mold you against him. He kisses you again—deeper, messier, his breath warm and tinged with something desperate.

JJ doesn’t just want this. He needs it.

That's what you like about him. He takes like he can’t get enough. He begs, and he grasps and he clings and he needs you like he needs air to breathe.

His hands are restless, traveling up your ribs, down your waist, over your thighs, like he’s trying to make up for lost time, like touching you might steady him, might ground him. But it doesn’t. The more he touches you, the more insatiable he gets. He’s humming against your lips, sighing into your touch, a little frantic, a little unsteady.

You pull him inside, but JJ can’t seem to break the kiss. He takes your hands to the hem of his shirt, tugging impatiently, his lips dragging from your mouth to your jaw to your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin between whispered pleas.

– Touch me, – he breathes, his voice cracking like the weight of everything is still right there, lingering beneath the surface.

Your fingers slip into his hair, threading through the strands, and JJ shudders. He melts against you, knees almost buckling as he exhales a sharp, shaky breath.

– Fuck, – he mumbles, almost laughing, giddy and drunk on your touch. He’s clinging to you now, pressing his body into yours, murmuring against your lips, deeper, please, until you give in, kissing him the way he wants. The way he needs.

He moans softly, hands gripping your waist, pushing your top up just to feel your skin against his palms. He’s lost in this, lost in you, smiling against your mouth in that dazed, breathless way, like nothing else exists beyond the way your body fits against his.

Like everything is fine.

Even it isn’t, not really.

You lead him to your room, kicking the door behind you as he falls back on the bed, tearing his shirt off of him as if it were burning. He doesn’t even give you the time to think before he’s pulling you on top of him.

You try to guide him through the motions, letting his hands explore, letting him pull you closer, letting him bury his face in your neck, all while your mind is somewhere else. Detached. Floating.

Because underneath it all—beneath the heat of his mouth and the weight of his body and the way he pleads for you like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart—there’s that feeling.

That cold, creeping thing at the back of your mind.

That fear.

It wraps around your throat, pressing tight, squeezing, reminding you of what he did. Of how long he must have followed you, watching, waiting, just out of reach.

Of how much worse it could’ve been if you hadn’t noticed.

JJ doesn’t see it. He doesn’t feel it. He only sees you, only feels your hands, your lips, the comfort he’s so desperate to take from you.

– I missed this, – he murmurs again, voice slurring slightly, hands still moving, still searching. – Fuck, baby I missed this so much.

You swallow hard, exhaling slowly, before finally answering.

– I know.

And you let him keep touching you, let him revel in this, let him have this, because maybe if he does, he’ll calm down. Maybe if he does, you’ll feel safe again.

JJ exhales against your skin, his body completely unwound, pliant beneath your hands. – Take it off. – He groans, hands shaking against his breeches. – Take it off of me, baby. Please. I just want you to be on me. I need it. Please.

You don’t need to be told twice.

He watches, almost breathless while you strip him bare, moaning at every touch, hips bucking every time you brush against him.

That doesn’t last long though.

It isn’t enough that just your hands are on him. So he drags you onto his dick, still clothed, and he grinds himself into you, eyes rolling back.

There’s something raw about the way he touches you—like he’s savoring every inch, like he’ll be going through withdrawal unless he doesn’t hold on tight enough. His fingers dig into your sides as he pulls your hips into his, his laugh breathy, almost delirious.

– God, I fucking love this, – he mutters against your shoulder, his hands slipping beneath your top, his thumbs brushing lazy circles over your skin.

This.

Not you—this.

The warmth. The closeness. The way you let him touch you, take what he needs. – You love this too, right baby? Your hips— He moans, head thrown back when you roll your hips against his cock, the fabric of your jeans giving just the friction he needs to work himself up. – You're so fucking good at this.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he kisses up your throat, his lips tracing familiar paths, his breath hot and unsteady. He hums when you card your fingers through his hair again, pressing into your touch like he’s melting from the inside out.

He's getting wilder, humping you with this reckless abandon he never seems to shake off. But you can see him unraveling. Just the friction isn't scratching the itch.

He needs more.

– Take it off, baby. Please. Please. – he sighs, voice catching, eyes blown out. – Fuck, give it to me. Just ride me.

You hesitate. Your fingers still against the nape of his neck. The sounds he makes, strangled, anguished. Like he’s going mad.

You actually hear him whine when you lift your hips, and his hand flies down to palm himself while he watches you pull the jeans down.

He tilts his head up, catching your mouth again, dragging you deeper into him. His hands slide down, gripping the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer until he's practically in you.

But you don’t let him sink in just yet.

It's more fun when you drag it out.

When you move against him, teasing him, watching him twitch and moan and plead with nothing but the wetness, the softness, the warmth.

There’s a slow, creeping sickness curling in your stomach.

Because you’re leading this. Because you know what he needs, and you’re not quite giving it to him. Because you’re letting him press closer, letting him unravel, letting him forget—for just a little while—that anything is wrong at all.

And a part of you wants to forget too.

It feels good.

It doesn’t matter what he did, what he would do, because he needs you. He can’t get enough of you. He won't leave.

– Please. Please. – He repeats it like a mantra, writhing beneath you, clutching you so fucking tight. His hips go rogue, bucking wildly. – Please let me fuck you. I need to fuck you. Please. Fuck, I can't take this anymore!

The laughter that falls from your lips almost seems to stoke the flames.

He groans out loud when tip pushes into you, and for a second, his entire body just collapses against yours, heavy, needy.

Then his hands slip under your bra again, tugging at the fabric, his breath hot and desperate against your skin.

– Let me see you, – he murmurs, voice thick, rough. – G-Go ahead, baby. I need you to move. Please.

You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, his lips kiss-swollen, his expression open in a way that makes you ache.

JJ wants you. That much is obvious.

But more than that—he wants to disappear into you.

To sink into your warmth, your touch, your body, and let it drown out whatever’s eating him alive from the inside.

Your stomach twists.

His fingers have long stopped tracing slow patterns against your ribs, now he's bruising you, nails digging in, shaking, waiting. Pleading.

You could give him what he wants. It would be easy. So, so easy.

But for the first time since this started, you wonder if you should. – And who said you deserve that, JJ?

– Huh?

– Because with the way you talked to me before, I don’t think you do. – You move, just slightly, and he folds, back arching. – I think you’re gonna have to convince me.

– Please. Baby, please.

– You think I'm pathetic. – You tsk, your hips rolling so slow his eyes flutter when they roll back. – I'm not the one who’s begging, though.

– Please! – He's screaming now, and you’re moving faster. The bed creaking beneath you. – I need it! Faster, baby. Faster!

He's splayed out, a puppet with the strings cut loose, yet he's anything but relaxed. You can feel him tensing, hands fisting the sheets so tight his knuckles have gone white.

He screams.

Almost yelping when you start going at the pace you know he likes. And it still isn't enough. He still grabs your hips, pulling you closer, and closer, again and again, banging against that soft spot within you like it's the only thing that can relieve him from this torture.

And you let him.

You ride him like a bronco, as if he’s trying to fuck you off instead of closer. As if he isn't begging for it. Screaming for it. – MORE, BABY, PLEASE!

You want more too.

At some point you lost yourself in trying to punish him, and it started to feel good. You're biting him, teeth dragging against the skin at the crook of his neck, the spot that always makes him shudder, that always makes him writhe.

Your nails have mapped half his body over.

He's red. —His face, his eyes, his lips, his scratches.— He’s gasping. Shaking. His whole body trembling, his eyes rolling back. You can’t even make sense of what he's saying anymore.

The only thing that leaves his mouth are these incoherent pleas, these oohs and aahs that make you laugh, humming to yourself as you ride into your orgasm, feeling him fall apart.

– F-uck, fuck! Don’t stop! Feels so fucking good baby, so fucking good! – He pushes it in faster, but it's still not enough. He needs more, he was going mad! Grabs you by the waist, tosses you on the bed, rutting like a wild dog, head thrown back, eyes rolling upwards. – Fuck! Fuck! Feel s-feel so fucking good!

All that was heard was your laughter, the pleased little gasps that escape your mouth as he fills you up over and over and over again, animalistic and heaving, laughing as well, but out of his mind, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure, by the building release. He crashes against you, once, twice, getting careless. But by then he couldn’t hold it in. More! More! is all you heard from him.

And then you felt it.

His body shudders all over again, still rutting like his life would end. – God. God! I need to cum— fuck! I need— I need— Keep going! Don’t fucking stop baby, don— FUCK! FUCK!

You felt him coat your walls, white, hot, and endless. By then, you were shaking as well, the waves of your own climax washing over you as you arch against him.

He collapses over you, trembling and crying as he smiles, moaning your name in that shaky, adoring voice, eyes clinging to you in utter joy as he pumped lazily, through your climax and his, he still needed more of you. – It won-won’t stop. Fuck, there’s so m-much of it. – Laughter. Yours, his.

Your mind is blank.

He's heavy, heaving, still inside you.

JJ's breathing is ragged, each exhale a shaky whisper as he remains, still there, still trembling with the aftershocks. His hands wander aimlessly across the sheets, his body warm and heavy, as though he's been consumed entirely. His eyes are half-lidded, unfocused, and a soft whimper escapes him as he reaches for your hand.

– Baby... can you...? – His voice is slurred, broken, as if he’s still caught between the pleasure and the exhaustion of it all. His hand gently tugs at your wrist, his fingers brushing against your skin. – Just... touch me. Please... softly.

There was that, too.

He was always sweeter when he was done.

You give a soft, reassuring smile, your fingers gently grazing his messy hair, pushing the strands out of his face, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment before you speak in the same soft, soothing tone. – I’m here, JJ. I got you.

He hums in response, his eyes fluttering closed, a content sigh escaping his lips as you run your fingers through his hair, the action slow and comforting. – I’m... Fuck— Laughter buzzes against your skin as he presses his lips on you again. – I'm never getting used to this... I’m not used to this, – he mumbles between shaky breaths, his hand coming to rest on your arm, the weight of his touch grounding him. – Feels... too good. I need you to... keep me close. Just... just a little longer.

You hate the way your heart skips.

But you love the way he says it.

The way his voice brushes against your skin when he pleads, so softly, so sweetly. Like he could never do you harm.

You shift slightly, pulling him into your chest, the warmth of his body a constant reassurance. His hand rests over your heart, the frantic pace of his pulse now slowing, but his face is still pinched with that lingering tension, a mix of exhaustion and need for reassurance. He lets out a soft groan as you press your lips to his temple, whispering, – I’m right here. You’re okay.

His breath evens out, and as the minutes pass, you keep stroking his hair and kissing his head, each kiss lighter than the last, until his body relaxes fully, his grip on you loosens. – Love you.

You feel yourself tense up.

It’s not the first time he says it.

But it might be the first time you know he doesn’t mean it.

Still you smile down at him anyway, pressing another gentle kiss to his forehead before whispering back, – Sure you do, baby. Go to sleep, okay?

He doesn’t need much encouragement.

JJ's never been easy to tire out, but when he does, it's immediate. His ear is pressed to your chest, to your heart, and you wonder what kind of dreams he’ll be having with that soundtrack, but it doesn't take long for his breath to even out.

The house is quiet.

Completely so.

And though you're glad John wasn't there to hear it, laying there, without his snoring to lull you into even halfway into reality only means that it crashes against you like a bucket of cold water a soon as JJ is out.

The day dawns on you, as it has done several times, but still the loathing blooms in your chest and spreads through your body faster than your mind can process.

You're broke.

You're jobless.

The girl you thought was your best friend is a snake.

The boy that's sleeping on you is a stalker.

Your best prospect right now is famously the most spoiled and volatile person on the island. That, because your best friend, the person that could actually get you out of this, has faded away after abandoning you, and you have no idea if he’ll even come back.

What's funny is that this is the thought that hurts you most —Not that you're unemployed, that your now previous boss could ruin you forever, that your relationship with only family member is as unstable as your financial situation, or that the people you thought you could trust don’t care about you— that Barry is gone.

Something he has been plenty of times before.

You lie there in the stillness, the weight of JJ's body pressing against yours. The sheets feel too warm, too much, a world you can’t find a way into. JJ’s steady breathing is a lullaby of sorts, pulling you toward the edge of exhaustion, but it’s not enough to quiet the thoughts tumbling relentlessly in your head.

Barry's absence gnaws at you —You know he’s not gone forever, not really. Or at least you hope so. He’s done this before, pulled away just long enough for you to convince yourself it doesn’t matter. And yet, it hurts like it does. Like it’s different this time.

You turn your head to glance at him—JJ, still sleeping soundly, unaware. His face is soft, the usual edge to his features dulled by exhaustion, but even now, with him so vulnerable in your arms, you feel the invisible distance between you grow. He’s a comfort, but only in the way a warm blanket can make you feel safe when the storm is too loud. And it is too loud. So loud you can barely breathe through it.

Your fingers trace patterns along his skin, but it’s absent, mechanical—the world outside the room, the boy in your arms, the life that’s slipping from your fingers, and the ghost that won’t stop haunting you, and you don't even know why.

Barry.

You know, deep down, that it’s not about him being gone. It’s about the fact that, despite what JJ has just tried to convince you of, Barry actually is the one person that was there for you.

When your father went away, he celebrated with you. When he was declared missing, he comforted you, even if you said you didn't care. Even if you didn't even know you needed it.

And maybe that's the problem: He saw you better than you saw yourself. He knows you. Really knows you.

But does he now?

So much has changed in two days.

You can’t even tell yourself it was real anymore because everything you thought you knew about him, about you, is shifting—becoming something else you can’t identify.

There’s no way to put a name to it, though, is there? That dull ache you’ve learned to live with. Not quite loneliness, but not contentment, either. Just an empty space where hope used to live, and you're so used to it now that you don’t know what it would feel like to fill it.

You let your gaze fall to JJ again, watching the way his back rises and falls with the easy rhythm of sleep. Maybe this is it—this is what you have now. A boy who doesn’t even know what he’s asking for when he whispers his need into the quiet night. And you, too tired to push him away, too lost to turn to anything else. You can almost convince yourself it’s enough, and for a second, you do.

But then, Barry’s face flickers in your mind again, like a ghost.

You wonder, just for a moment, if you would’ve been able to say anything if he were here. If you would’ve told him how much you needed him to help you, how much you needed him to be here, not just physically, but with you in the way that only he ever did.

But he’s not here.

And you’re not sure when he will be again.

The buzz of your phone slices through the silence. You freeze. What's the likelihood that he would call you right then, when you needed him most?

You slide from under JJ, and he grumbles, hands reaching for you even deep into sleep, but you don’t see it. All you see is the unknown number flashing on your screen amidst the darkness, and your heart races as you bring the phone to your ear. – Bee? – The word falls from your lips almost fearfully. You don’t want to know where he's been, what he's doing, or how much of what he had to take to call you like this, in the middle of the night. But you’re impatient to hear his voice, you just want to know if he's okay. – Bee, is that you?

The line scratches softly, the familiar sound of skin whispering against the microphone echoing in-between the two phones. Your pulse thrums against your ear. – Not bee. – You finally hear. – Are, actually.

– “Are”? Barry, what are you talking about? What did you take?

– It’s not Barry, baby. – The edge of his words resounded even through the distance. Pleased, but not quite satisfied. – It’s Rafe.

You let go of a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

– Oh, “R”. Okay I got it.

He chuckles, a long, breathy noise. His breathing is heavy. – Did you put the cry-baby to sleep or is he still up whining?

JJ turns in his sleep. His arm, still lying, lax, over your lap shifts, and he pulls himself closer, brow brushing against your thigh. – JJ is… gone.

– Good. Thought I was gonna have to call CPS or some shit. – He scoffs, turning, in bed, you gather, since you hear the squeak of furniture.

– How considerate.

– Well, baby, I'm nothing if not considerate. – He hums. – What are you doing awake?

Regretting your life decisions, pondering the benefits of suicide. – Thinking of you. – It was meant to be a joke, but it didn’t sound like one as it slipped from your lips.

There's half a second of silence from him before you hear that laugh again, like you shocked him.

Rafe Cameron was shocked.

That's definitely a headline.

You can almost hear the smirk on his face. – I was thinking about you too, baby. What are you wearing?

You scoff, almost rolling your eyes. – Rafe.

He laughs again, even breathier. – Sorry. Was that too soon? – His bed creaks again. – You don’t seem like the kind of girl who needs a lot of foreplay.

– Hilarious.

– I was really hoping you'd give me a taste of what you’re wearing tomorrow, though.

You look down almost unconsciously. The only thing covering your skin is sweat. – Definitely not what I'm wearing right now. Unless you're hiring for a job other than personal chef.

Rafe’s quiet again. He moves around. You can hear him breathing. – Maybe I am. What kind of job are you thinking?

– Well, aren’t you the little hiring agency? Should've met you before. There’s some things on my resume I'm definitely not proud of. – He laughs with you now, though there's something strange in his tone. – Did you talk to your governess, or that other guy you said you didn't know the name of?

– Did. We'll be waiting for you.

– Well, you call and I come. – He laughs at the double-entendre, another noise escaping his lips. – What time should I be there?

– How's 10 AM sound?

– Perfect, Rafe. Thank you. Again, really. I can’t thank you enough.

– You're welcome, baby. You really are. – He groans, the bed creaking. JJ moves around again, his head on your lap, hands around your knees, and he mumbles something unintelligible. – What was that?

– Sorry, uhm. Just… thinking out loud.

You swallow, but Rafe doesn’t miss a beat. – And what are you thinking about?

– About… What I'm gonna wear. – Improvising was never really your forte.

Rafe hums, a long stretch of the M, then something smaller, a sound you can't quite catch. – That skirt. – He sighs. – The blue pleated one.

You pause.

– What?

– It's pretty. – Is all he says, then a groan, or a purr. The phone falls on his pillow, you can hear it scratch against his skin as he moves. But the way he says it, as if he’s seen it a thousand times in the two days you've known each other, as if he can picture you wearing it right in front of him. – Fuck, baby. You’re so pretty.

The compliment grates at your ears.

How does he know your clothes?

You think of the skirt. Your blue pleated skirt. It's been ages since you've worn it. It's way too short. You’ve outgrown it a while ago. – What else, baby?

– Hm?

– What else are you wearing for me?

His bed creaks again, over and over, and he doesn’t say anything for a minute, he just sighs.

– I, uhm. I don’t know. – What even is this conversation?

– Far as I'm concerned you don't need to wear anything. You can come— He laughs, low and unsteady, a strangled “yeah” cutting through the word. – Come as you are.

You feel a trickle of repulse run down your back. You don’t wanna talk to him anymore. You don’t want to talk at all.

– Talk to me, baby. – He groans, again.

– I, uhm. – You kick the nightstand, the noise echoing loudly around your room. – Shit, uhm. Sorry, that's my brother. I'll see you tomorrow.

You kill the line before he can say anything else.

@chatgtfo @bitterdotcom @sassyvillaintrophy @xmayankax @bluethperson @coralblue35 @munsoncultedits @the-bitch-who-binges @im-julessssss

[servndipityz]

Namgyu but him being the normal middle schooler way hurts you? Or something like that idk you’re the only one I’ve seen write him so accurately

nam-gyu getting the silent treatment from the reader? his little brain would actually start to short circuit he’d get so grumpy lmao

a/n ── hey! i decided to mix these two anons since i thought they'd make a really good fic together, hope u don't mind :) thank you so much for your requests and your patience, ik this one took a while. i hope u both like it!

SNAP

warnings ── blood, death, general squid game themes

word count ── 2.4k

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silence.

silence was all that filled the air as you descended the stairs, walking in line back to the dorm room. you were surrounded by more than a hundred players, but nobody spoke. nobody dared.

the last game had been a bloodbath, to say the least. you didn’t think you’d ever be able to forget the lifeless eyes of innocent players lying on the ground—especially knowing it could have just as easily been you.

and it had been damn close.

you turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him a few steps behind you. nam-gyu.

you’d thought you could tolerate him. the way he talked over you, the way he always had to have the last word, the way he threw whatever was at hand just to get on your nerves. annoying as fuck, but bearable.

this time, he'd pushed too far.

from the moment mingle had begun, your heart had already been racing. hell, you could still feel it hammering in your chest at an abnormally high rate. but that wasn’t enough for him, was it? no, nam-gyu, who had taken whatever shit drug thanos had given him, had stood by your side.

that was normal, you'd come to realize. you didn't understand why, but somehow, after swearing he hated you, he'd always end up next to you.

so, while the damn carousel was spinning, he'd leaned in, voice just low enough for only you to hear. maybe he'd taken pity on you. maybe he'd seen how scared you looked. you cursed yourself for ever even thinking that.

"you sure you got this? you look kinda nervous…" he said, a small smile forming on his lips as you turned to him. "what if you freeze up? or what if nobody picks you? that’d be bad."

"shut up," you muttered, looking away, narrowing your eyes—ignoring the cold, sweaty goosebump crawling over your skin. it had sounded more like a plea than a demand.

"and what if you end up alone?" he went on, completely ignoring you, inching closer—if that was even possible. "you’d just be standing there while everyone rushes away—tick, tock, tick, tock…"

that was when the nausea hit. real nausea. he was just messing with you… like he always did. but what if?

when the first number was called and the game started, you managed to get through a couple of rounds, your eyes filling with tears from pure nerves.

then, one of the last rounds. the voice called out 3. you looked at nam-gyu and thanos in front of you, thinking—just thinking—that you were saved.

you rushed to them, just as nam-gyu took a step back.

"actually, i think i see a better option over there," he said, pointing at a random player.

your soul hit the floor. he was actually going to leave you behind. you were going to die.

panic took over, tears slipping down your face as you frantically looked around for someone, anyone, to save you.

"tick, tock, tick, tock..." nam-gyu’s voice echoed in your head.

then—someone yanked you by the arm, shoving you into the nearest room.

you gasped for breath, your chest heaving. you were alive. you hadn't died.

nam-gyu snickered in front of you. thanos, also in the room, stood by the little window, uninterested in whatever had just happened between you two.

"what—" was all you managed, quiet sobs escaping your lips as you struggled to process it. you were alive. somehow, you were alive.

"you actually thought i was gonna leave you?" nam-gyu giggled. giggled. he had his hand over his mouth like it was the funniest thing in the world. "that’s crazy."

you shook your head as a tear threatened to spill, breathing in through your nose to steady yourself. the memory of what had happened less than an hour ago burned in your mind.

ha wasn't just mean and annoying. nam-gyu was cruel. nam-gyu was evil.

you'd judged him wrong. he wasn’t just a boy hiding his fear behind teasing. he wasn’t someone you could ever grow to love under different circumstances. he wasn’t misunderstood. all those thoughts you’d had before? wrong. they had to be. he was heartless. and you hated him.

as you stepped into the main room, your heart eased—just a little—when you spotted se-mi. without thinking, you quickened your pace toward her.

she did the same, meeting you halfway and grabbing you by the arms. “thank god you’re okay,” she said, eyes scanning your disheveled state.

you inhaled sharply, nodding, even as the words caught in your throat. she tilted her head, concern deepening in her expression.

“is everything—?” she started, but before she could finish, another voice cut in.

“wassup, team?” thanos said, strolling over and throwing up gang signs he probably didn’t even know the meaning of.

but of course, he wasn’t alone.

you felt it immediately—nam-gyu’s presence behind you. close. so close that if you moved even an inch, you’d collide into him. but still, never touching.

“we almost thought we were gonna die back there, huh?” nam-gyu said, still amused, his gaze lingering on you.

you turned to him. fuming.

so many thoughts ran through your head. so many things to say. so many bones to break. you opened your mouth—

and then shut it. no. you didn’t want to see him again. didn’t want to acknowledge his existence. but since you were stuck in these fucking games together, you couldn’t exactly avoid him.

so you’d do the next best thing.

act like he didn’t exist. because to you, he didn't.

you could see it in his face, his grin starting to form, waiting for you to say something, to take the bait like you always did. but not this time. you just shot him a grimace, turning and walking awat toward the bathroom.

and so, time went on.

but not for him.

nam-gyu wasn’t used to silence. not from you. not like this.

at first, he barely noticed. he was still riding the high of his own amusement, watching you seethe in barely restrained anger. but the longer the minutes stretched, the longer you refused to bite back, the more something began to gnaw at him.

it started with the little things. the way you didn’t even look his way when he made some stupid remark at dinner, or how you barely reacted when thanos made a joke about his survival skills. before, you would’ve rolled your eyes, shot some sarcastic comment back, but now—nothing. not even a twitch of annoyance.

the way you turned your back to him, like he wasn’t even in the room, like he wasn’t even worth acknowledging—it set something off in him. something uncomfortable. something he didn’t want to name.

he tried again later, when almost a day had passed. sitting on the stairs of the beds, staring at nothing, your hands gripping your knees like if you let go, you’d shatter. he sat down beside you, close enough to invade your space, to test you.

"so, what, you mad at me or something?" he asked, voice deliberately light, teasing, waiting for you to react.

nothing.

his fingers drummed against the metal. "c’mon. you can’t seriously be mad. it was a joke. i knew someone would pick you up." he turned his head toward you, watching for a flinch, a flicker—anything. "you really think i’d let you die?"

still, nothing.

you just stood up, walking away like he hadn’t even spoken. like he was air.

his jaw clenched. fine. two could play this game.

except—you didn’t break. not that night. not the next day. not the next game. not even when he upped his antics, when he threw crumpled-up paper at the back of your head or made offhanded comments just loud enough for you to hear.

it was driving him insane.

he never realized how much he thrived off your back-and-forth until it was gone. until you treated him like a ghost.

until he realized—he didn’t like being invisible to you.

the next night, the dorm was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that only came when exhaustion weighed too heavy on everyone’s bones. nam-gyu lay on his bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling, restless.

fuck it.

before he could second-guess himself, he was already moving, slipping off his mattress with the kind of ease that came from knowing how to sneak around. his feet barely made a sound against the cold floor as he crept across the room, stopping just short of your bed. he hesitated for a second—just a second—before sitting down at your feet.

you shot up immediately, eyes wide, breath hitching. "what the—" the words died in your throat as you jerked back against the pillow, your hands bracing against the sheets. for a split second, you were ready to shove him off, to kick him away—

but then his hand was over your mouth, and his face was inches from yours.

"shh." his eyes flickered to the other beds, scanning for movement. none. he exhaled, slow and careful, before pulling his hand back. "relax, okay? i just—"

he trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence. he just what? wanted to bother you? wanted to win? no, that wasn’t it. the truth was a little more pathetic than that. he just missed hearing your voice, even if it was yelling at him.

he shifted, sitting cross-legged now, knee brushing against yours. you had pulled yourself up too, back pressed against the headboard, muscles tense. you were still watching him like he might pull something, but there was something else there too. wariness, sure. but curiosity too.

"you just what?" you repeated, voice still laced with annoyance, but softer now. almost… wary.

he swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close you two were, your eyes on him in a way that made his heart pound annoyingly fast. "i dunno," he muttered. "wanted to see if you were still alive."

"seriously?" you scoffed. "get out."

but you didn’t push him away. and he didn’t move.

"nam-gyu, i swear to god—"

"you really hate me that much, huh?" he interrupted, his voice quieter now. the teasing was still there, but barely. something more vulnerable lurked beneath it, something he wasn’t sure he wanted to confront. "like, actually?"

silence. you looked at him then, and for the first time in days, he saw something other than anger in your eyes. something conflicted. something dangerous.

"you tell me," you whispered, your breath fanning against his cheek. your fingers twitched, like you were resisting the urge to shove him away—or pull him closer.

his throat went dry. he wanted to say something. something cocky, something that would shift the power back into his hands. but all he could think about was how your lips were barely inches from his, how your warmth seeped into him like a slow burn, and how he wasn’t nearly as immune to you as he thought.

you were waiting for an answer, your gaze piercing into his, but he had none. not one that wouldn’t make him look stupid, anyway. he wanted to scoff, to roll his eyes and tell you to lighten up, but he couldn’t—not when his own heartbeat was betraying him.

you pulled back first, sitting up straighter, arms crossing over your chest. "forget it," you muttered, shaking your head. "i don’t even care."

hut he couldn’t be invisible to you. he wouldn’t.

because you did care. he knew you did. he could see it in the way your hands clenched, the way your knee bounced slightly, the way you were holding back from looking at him. you cared enough to be mad, enough to hate him, enough to freeze him out.

"yeah?" he said, leaning in slightly—but this time, there was no smirk, no game. "then why do you look like you’re about to cry?"

that was it. that was the final fucking straw.

something in you cracked wide open, all the frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface before you could shove it down again.

“you always do this,” you hissed, your voice low. “you push and push and push, and when i finally break, it’s just a joke. when i get mad, I’m overreacting. when i tell you to stop, you just push harder.”

his stomach twisted. you weren’t just lashing out. you were breaking apart.

“you’ve been messing with me since the second we met,” you went on, voice rising, not caring if anyone heard. “every fucking day, it’s something new. tripping me, throwing things at me, talking over me, getting in my face. it’s exhausting. and i let it go because i thought—” you cut yourself off, jaw clenching, forcing yourself to breathe. “i thought maybe you didn’t mean it.”

nam-gyu stayed quiet. just staring. no teasing grin, no cocky remark. just… watching.

“but you do mean it,” you whispered. "because you think it’s funny. because you like seeing me mad. because it doesn’t matter if i’m actually hurt, as long as you get a reaction." you shook your head, voice unsteady. "and i’m done."

nam-gyu’s chest tightened. his hands clenched in his lap. he wanted to argue. he wanted to tell you that you were wrong. but he couldn’t—not when you were looking at him like that. not when he knew, deep down, that you weren’t wrong at all.

"I’m sorry."

the words came out so quiet, so unnatural in his own voice, that for a second, he wasn’t sure he’d actually spoken them.

you froze.

his lips pressed together like he immediately regretted saying it, but there was no taking it back now. his hand twitched in his lap, like he wanted to reach for something but didn’t know what.

"you—what?"

nam-gyu exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but you. "don’t make me say it again," he muttered.

a beat of silence.

then—a laugh. small, quiet, barely there. but real.

it startled both of you.

nam-gyu’s head snapped up, watching as you bit your lip, shaking your head like you couldn’t believe it. "you suck at apologizing," you said, still exhausted, tired.

his lips twitched. "yeah, well. not much practice."

"clearly."

another pause. this time, the silence was lighter. not quite peace, but not war either.

nam-gyu let out a dramatic sigh, sitting back onto the mattress. "so," he drawled, hands fidgeting with a loose strang of your bedsheet. "am i still dead to you, or…?""

you rolled your eyes, relaxing but keeping your distance. "we’ll see."

"uh-huh. that’s progress."

"shut up."

"make me."

he knew he wasn't just sorry, no, he knew it was much deeper than that. but that was all he would allow himself to say. for now.

and just like that, maybe he wasn't that evil.

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© servndipityz 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content without my permission.

[honnelander]

How did Sanji and reader meet the first time? What did they think of each other at first impression 👀?

hmm interesting question! i feel like it would go a little something like this (in my main "mutual pining" series):

You had originally joined the crew back in the beginning with Luffy, Nami, and Zoro when they were going up against Buggy. Since helping them slice that clown pirate down to size, you were a straw hat.

You never particularly had a dream of your own or knew where you wanted to be, but once you met Luffy and his endless optimism and kindness?? You knew it then: you had found your people.

So when did you meet Sanji? At the same time as everyone else, at the Baratie.

After Nami slipped the host some berry to get your crew a table, you all made your way down to the main dining area. Watching Zoro struggle to slide into the booth because of his swords was practically the funniest thing you've ever seen so you couldn't help the laughter that came out of you and in turn, that made the rest of the straw-hats all join you in poking fun at Zoro and laugh your asses off (much to Zoro's chagrin).

"Fuck you guys," Zoro muttered as he gave each member of the crew their own personal death glare.

When the swordsman locked eyes with you for your own personal Zoro Death Glare, you couldn't help but laugh louder.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, everyone's favorite blonde-haired chef was busy making the infamous bluefin tuna special that led to him getting kicked out to wait tables that particular night.

As Sanji put the final touches on his off-the-menu special, wiped the edges of the plate clean, and confidently strode to the front of the line, all while bantering with Patty, he felt on top of the world.

Until Zeff crapped all over his dish and kicked him off the line.

"Fucking old man," Sanji snarled under his breath as he pushed the kitchen doors to the dining room a little more harsh than necessary.

As he walked into the dining room, slinging his suit blazer over his shoulders, he was fuming...until he heard a loud chorus of laughter come from his right. He looked up in curiosity as he buttoned his blazer in the little alcove next to the kitchen and scanned the dining room. Baratie was a more upscale, fine dining experience (especially for pirates), so for a table of guests to laugh as loud as he was hearing was certainly new to the cook. Whoever they were, they definitely must not be from around here.

His blue eyes immediately went to the table nearest to him, table eight, where he had his eyes set on the pretty blonde woman earlier in the night in hopes that she was the one laughing loudly but, no she wasn't. When he took the plate of pastries and took a few steps into the dining room, he heard the laughter towards his right and immediately looked that way with a cool gaze.

And the sight he was met with nearly took his breath away. At table ten, he saw the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen: you. There you were, sitting there at the table, laughing your ass off at the green-haired guy next to you, laughing so hard you were hitting the table with your fist, not a care in the world. It looked like everyone else at your table was laughing along with you, all except for mosshead (a stick in the mud, Sanji thought with a scoff).

Only one thought occupied his mind now, not Zeff, not the bluefin special, not being kicked out of the kitchen, just: you. You and your infectious laugh.

Everything after that happened in a blur. The two pirates at table eight both stood up enraged, yelling insults back and forth along with threats to kill each other, ripping Sanji's attention away from you and pissing him off all over again.

Could anything go right today?

Once he kicked those two pirates unconscious, he then smoothed out his suit jacket, let out a small exhale of satisfaction, and picked up the plate of pastries again. As he strode over to your table, he put on his most charming smile and placed the pastry plate right down on your table like nothing had just happened.

And to be fair? Pirates fighting did happen all the time, that was just another typical Tuesday night at the Baratie.

But meeting you? That was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and he'd do anything to hear you laugh and see your gorgeous smile light up that pretty face of yours again.

He stared right at you as he said, "Good evening, and welcome to our shitty little restaurant: the Baratie."

At his tone and choice of words, you couldn't help but look at your extremely attractive waiter in surprise and confusion and let out a surprised laugh. Didn't he work here?

He kept going though but his charming smile only widened at hearing your laugh, his smile reaching his eyes as he said, "My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?"

And in that moment, without the other person's knowledge, you were smitten with each other.

Taglist: @smolracoon25

[gremlingottoosilly]

König x reader who's a little dumb, König lets it slip out he wants to keep the reader at his place forever/kidnapping or something similar, the reader jokingly agrees thinking it was a joke, 2 days later, to the reader now in his home realising it wasn't a joke and is now trying every polite way to say they want out without directly saying it

"um, this doesn't seem like a joke anymore ;;"

"of course, it wasn't a joke ^^"

"..hey..;;so I need to get clothes from my apartme-"

"I'll buy you new ones ^^"

Naive and dumb darling who doesn't even understand why he would joke like this...he is funny, the funniest guy alive, of course, your best friend out of all possible besties! Then he forgets to give you spare keys for his home - you don't want to just leave the house unlocked even though you want to go out and, really, you can use a little break from everything...then he forbids you from leaving - something about bears, wolves, dangerous people out in the forests even though you're pretty sure there is a small town just a few kilometers away. Konig just wanted to give you a little vacation, that's all! And he buys you gifts, and he even cooks for you - by that I mean that he brings you fancy takeout and comfort food in little styrofoam containers so you won't feel bad( he is such a good friend and you'd be stupid to start crying about wanting out now, he is trying his best...and now you found yourself literally stuck with him, at his house - he won't let your live, he buys you all of those cool new stuff, he refers to you as his girl and you're not sure he is talking about just being friendly now... The good thing is - he is never cruel or violent! Despite essentially kidnapping you, Konig would wait until you're properly fine with your situation so he could fuck you without a care in the world...obviously, he'd take something for himself - for example, he won't ever let you leave with your panties on, he is taking them as taxes!! He needs to please yourself, you should understand, seriously! And if he watches your showering...hey, at least he isn't touching you unprompted, right?

.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

hii another bunnytine’s fic idea came to me today:

little vinnie makes a valentine’s day present for his dad :’) OR

maybe little vin has a valentine at daycare and Sam helps him make something for her!

- 🐮

SAM MONROE does not do Valentine's Day.

He’s spent years watching idiots in his school scramble to buy overpriced chocolates and those stupid heart-shaped balloons, only for most of them to end up freaking crying in the bathrooms by lunch. The whole thing was so pointless, and he’d rather spend the day chain-smoking outside the auto shop than give much of a damn about it.

But now, as the fate wanted, he’s sitting at the kitchen table, staring at a pile of red paper, glue sticks, pink glitter and heart-shaped stickers like they personally offended him.

Vinnie is sitting across from him, babbling to himself in that little toddler voice, chubby fingers smacking at a paper heart Sam had (painfully) cut out. The story standing behind all of it was the daycare. They sent a note home saying the kids had to bring a homemade Valentine’s card for their little party tomorrow. And somehow, somehow, Sam had ended up being the one stuck doing this damn project.

"Alright, lil man," Sam sighed "we gotta make this card, okay? So no eating the glue this time."

Vinnie, in his oversized sweater and socks that barely clung to his tiny feet, just giggled, eyes squinting as he clapped his hands. "Sammy!" he chirped, reaching for the glue stick.

Sam squinted. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m Sam. Now here—stick this heart down."

Vinnie took the glue stick and smeared it casually across the entire page like he’s trying to paint the damn thing. Sam groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Jesus, kid, not like that." He reached over, fixing the heart and trying not to rip it in half.

Vinnie just laughed again, face lighting up like Sam is the funniest thing in the world. And—damn, man. That face always got him.

So, grumbling under his breath, Sam moved closer to Vinnie and started actually helping. He held Vinnie’s tiny hand in his bigger one, guiding him to press the heart down properly. He even let the kid slap a few stickers on—most of which end up half off the page—but whatever. It’s his masterpiece, right?

Once the card is somewhat done (meaning Sam has fixed most of it while Vinnie kept giggling and smacking stickers onto the table), Sam grabbed a marker, biting his lip before speaking up. "Okay, we gotta write something." He glanced at Vinnie. "What do you wanna say?"

Vinnie, looking proud as hell, grinned. "Babi!"

Sam snorted. "Yeah, okay, don’t think the other kids will get that, bud." He sighed, shaking his head before scrawling, in his messy-ass handwriting:

«Happy Valentine’s Day, I guess. From Vinnie»

Good enough for a project for daycare.

"There. Done. You happy now? You like it?"

Vinnie, in all his tiny glory, gasped, hands covering his little mouth before his lips twisted into a smile. Then those pudgy hands excitedly, clumsily clapped and then—out of nowhere—leans forward, pressing a wet, sloppy toddler kiss to Sam’s cheek.

Sam froze.

His heart did this weird-ass thing in his chest, like it fucking melts, and he sweared if anyone ever saw him right now, he'd deny it to his death.

"...Yeah, okay," Sam mumbled, swallowing thickly before ruffling Vinnie’s soft curls. "Maybe Valentine’s Day isn’t that stupid."

Vinnie just giggled again, too happily, grabbing another sticker and slapping it on Sam’s arm.

Yeah. Maybe it’s not so bad after all.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @nikiloveshayden @cloverina

[t1oui]

i think jercy are just stupidly affectionate with each other. like, everyone sees them and assumes they're bros... and then they start cuddling and kissing each other in public and it's very obvious that they are not, in fact, just bros

90% of percy's camera roll is jason/him and jason

they're always wrapping their arms around each other in little hugs or partial hugs. there's always an arm around somebody's waist with them

jason wrapping his arms around percy's waist and fully pressing himself against percy's back while percy makes them breakfast in the morning

sharing food and feeding each other and being completely oblivious to how sappy they are

jason calling percy a pedophile for being a year older and thinking it's the funniest thing in the world

dancing together (jason is not very good but he and percy are both having a great time anyway)

they have no concept of personal space whatsoever

jason sitting on percy's lap and neither of them understanding when it's... not appropriate to do that

forehead/nose/cheek kisses all the time

when percy's sick he's sooooo pathetic meanwhile jason could be on his deathbed and he'd still insist he was fine and try to get up

either way whoever isn't sick takes care of the sick person. for jason this means giving percy cuddles and soup and babying him and for percy this means trying to get jason to stay the fuck in bed

they rant about their hyperfixations to each other

when one person is excited both of them are excited bc hell yeah supporting your partner's interests and their wins and stuff

jason telling percy he's smart when percy feels stupid & percy helping jason remember he doesn't have to be perfect bc nobody is

they're just so encouraging of each other and so so so loving aaaaaaa

[kerubimcrepin]

LIVEBLOG: Wakfu Season 4, Episode 12

I will be honest: if Joris started seriously using this thing he would simply get scared like "WHAT IF I AM GOING TO DIE ON ACCIDENT AND NOT NOTICE DOING TOO MUCH". Also, his pride wouldn't allow him to overindulge.

What I'm getting at, is that his usage of this thing is literally the most in-character, funniest thing that he could have possibly done.

Yes. It's the demons again. I don't actually have anything to add. He looked pretty.

>touch eldritch artifact that feeds on life energy to make people powerful >use it to enhance your nonexistent magical huppermage abilities that were killed both by lack of education and the fact you have a weird fucking dragonized body to summon a tresstump magic wand from a different country >stop using eldritch artifact in any way Literally nobody does it like him. I can just hear him praying that nobody notices or thinks he's weird. But I do. I do.

...If he didn't have The Stump on his mind, he probably wouldn't have stepped anywhere close to this thing.

I thought about how many times Joris has probably had to read out war speeches, to be able to pull something this good sounding out with no preparation, and got a bit sick in the head.

There is nobody better to read out a speech like this, I think. I don't have any thoughts because I am now clinically insane.

At this point, they have discussed the plan for infiltrating the Necro world.

And I keep thinking about the fact that, Just like everyone in this place, Joris has a family to return to and protect (<- taking poison damage actively) and that Joris, like everyone else, is distinctly aware that if they die — not only will their loved ones be sad, they'll also be dead as well.

I really like this little moment of "I really hope you know what you're doing (I don't know what we're doing, and I'm scared)" and the way his voice sounds worried...

I can read complex emotional motivations into ANY Joris dialogue. Just watch me. The worms inside my brain guide me.

The little nod as their plan commences...

If Joris + Sword = Atchan behaviour, then Joris + his stupid log = Kerubim behaviour... From his full-front and full-back pirouettes, to the way he holds positions himself.

As I've said, while it might not be Ankama's intention even now, Joris's fighting style has always resembled Kerubim and Atcham a lot. Which would fit, considering they were probably the ones to actually teach him to fight. (However, by now, I'd be sad if it wasn't their intention...)

Though in the original movie scripts, I'm pretty sure it was Kerubim was the one who actually gave him the log and taught him to use it... So, maybe my jokes about Joris's style in the first seasons are actually pretty-on point and Joris's fighting style has always been based off his?

Whatever the fuck is going on with Joris and Kerubim's bond is at this point, like, written in the fabric of the universe. It's a big comfort to know that the one and only reason I began liking Joris as a character (that reason being his relationship with Kerubim) has always existed in some way

...Ankama please make Kerubim teaching Joris to use the log as a weapon canon already! For years, even before researching movie history, my headcanon has been "Kerubim asked Joris what weapon he'd like to learn to use first — expecting the answer to be something like "a staff" or "a wand" due to Joris's lineage... and Joris responded with "yours :) blunt damage to the bones yippie" which was unexpected but pleasant."

I'm fucking crazy you know. Yugo took Joris's hit... The way Joris softly says "Yugo! :(". The way he immediately rushes at Toross... Friendship is so real and poignant.

Joris "I can't show people they're getting under my skin or that I'm uncomfortable bc that's a sign of weakness" Jurgen saying this is just. you know that he's just fucked. that he's stressed out. and maybe scared of dying. if he was feeling normal, he would not fucking say this.

He probably means this in a "you're not even the 1238423th person that I outlived and defeated to try and get at me like this" but it comes across as "I'm so tired of it".

He's always been disrespected. No matter how hard he tries or how hard he works, everyone just treats him like a child, calls him a little guy at best, a midget at worst — even if he is a politican, even if he is 600 years old. Every person that doesn't know him tutoyers him. Even his family sometimes treats him like a child — albeit for different reasons.

He has 20 mental illnesses, and half of them would be solved by indiscriminately shooting anyone who calls him "petit" or "nabot" or "garçon" with a gun.

[walks into the sea]

On the first watch-through, I genuinely cheered and clapped. Ya!!

Kill him Joris. Kill him and be reborn as a lotus flower.

:(

[oh-no-its-bird]

Been thinking about your team ro time travel and team ro defect crossover and I just. I've been rereading keanblade's stuff recently so i have a very specific tobirama in my head and the idea that he'd take one look at this group of sad dissilusioned young adults/children and be like guess i'm a father of 5 now and rewrite his entire priorities around that. Like, you mentioned in the of team ro time travel you liked the idea of having half hatake tobirama in the mix and i'm an enjoyer the idea hatake tend to just adopt children wily nilly like oh look more pack, I think i will thank you very much. Just tobirama absconding with this entire group that has no incentive to return to their own time and being like i'm the dad now (yes some of them are barely younger than him, no that doesn't change that he's everyone's dad fuck off). He gets to teach kakashi all kinds of hatake things! Show him how to be a little wilder like the hatake of the warring states! If you subscribe to the theory he helped hashirama learn how the mokuton worked he could tenzo with his mokuton. The funniest option is that somehow all of this leads to peace without izuna dying and they werent even trying for that. Like, tobirama just straight up ditching everything to take care of a bunch of depressed teenagers and a kid, over half of which are uchiha, and being SO fiercely protective of his little pack of murder children and the uchiha seeing this and being like. Huh. I thought that guy hated us? He just. Is living in the woods with three uchiha and treating them like his specialest little guys. An uchiha patrol runs across them and tobirama is patting itachi on the head for a good job learning whatever insane jutsu he's currently teaching team ro because those are his kids and of course he'd teach them to be as strong and terrifying as he could. Makes them think. Bonus points if this also somehow leads to madatobi and/or when the village does get built tobirama always looking to team ro before agreeing to any plans cuz they know what didnt work the first time, having not only been affected by it in the worst ways but left because of it in their time. Does this make the village better? Who knows. But they're certainly trying.

Sorry for the long thing, this has just been plauging my thoughts. I dont even know if i explained my idea well it's just been banging around in my brain for too long and i needed it out

Based off [THIS] au about Team Ro defecting from Konoha after Kakashi, having been told the truth of his fathers sabotaged mission and the slander campaign against him by Orochimaru, interrupts Shisui's murder at Danzo's hand, leading to the entire team + Sasuke to flee Konoha-- and then accidentally time travel into the warring states era, years before Konoha was set to be founded.

(This is already long, so the reply is below the cut ->)

OK FIRST OFF IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO REPLY TO THIS OOPS I HOPE I DIDNT KEEP U IN SUSPENSE

Woahh Keanblade mention !!! I love their stuff, they have some great fics and I love their brain. I haven't read their fics in a while actually, I should like go brush up on my keanblade lore / characterization at some point

IM YELLING THO IM SO ?? HONORED ?? TO HAVE SPARKED SMTHN IN UR BRAIN ACTUALLY, IM EATING THIS UP I LOVE IT THANK U SM FOR SENDING ME THIS I HAD SO MUCH FUN READING UR IDEAS !! AND YOU SENT ME SO MUCH TOO, SO MUCH FOOD TO DEVOUR ! Thank you for sending them to me I am giving you a little kiss right on ur brain

Tobirama really said "wow I can't believe I have to adopt these guys now"

Hashirama, probably: "Otouto you really dont have to--"

"I can't believe the world itself is making me adopt these sad, lost children."

"Children? Otouto, they aren't exactly--"

"I MUST take them in. I'm FORCED to, even."

"Tobi, no one is saying you--"

"I really have no choice in the matter. There are NO other options for them."

"Tobirama, please--"

The fact that Tobirama is like literally the same age as Kakashi and then they're just barely older than Shisui and Tenzo makes the whole thing so much funnier. It's probably for the best that he didn't try to dad them fr fr bc Im pretty sure the only one here without some form of daddy issues is like. Sasuke. Who is also 7.

(Which could be argued against tbh just depending on ur specific interpretation of Fugaku's dynamic w his kids on any given day)

So I imagine trying to actually parent various members of team ro comes with the risk of accidentally stepping on a landmine and potentially causing incredible violence and years of baggage to explode outward. I love my traumatized shinobi boys !!

Big brother Tobirama my beloved tho !!! Do u think he has complexes about being a big brother I think he has complexes and also that we should totally explore that, send tweet

Tobirama cave hermit arc !!! Madara had his turn, now it's his!

Team Ro really showed up, immediatley got thrust into an (unwilling, unwanted) custody battle, then got fucking SNATCHED by Tobirama before they could try and make a run for it, and just kinda,, decided to go with it? I guess? Fucking gold, actually. How the actual fuck did Tobirama convince them all to stay with him, the world will never know.

The man teleported the group of them into a forest alone, (instantly outnumbering himself) and went "this means I won the custody battle btw." and team Ro just went "I mean its better than being stuck with Uchiha Madara I guess." and went with it

Im not going to lie I fucking pictured Madara stumbling across the cave and team ro yapping at him like little chihuahuas and fucking lost my mind actually, needed to take a second to regain my sanity (in a good way)

Do u think Hashirama yells at Tobirama when he comes back home for publically kidnapping some mystery uchiha (plus others who were not very recognizable and thus do not matter as much) in front of the uchiha clan. Does Tobirama come back home? Does he just decide to become a cave hermit somewhere in the woods with his hashtag found family who may or may not fully want to be there? (they must, to some degree, want to be there-- if only because Tobirama Senju might be talented but he is also 18 at the time and nowhere near the height of his power. And Team Ro is many things, but unskilled is NOT one of them)

I forgot Tobirama knew ab the time travel for a sec and pictured him looking at Sasuke, this little clone of Izuna, and going "Hmm. You look exactly like my rival does and no doubt belong to the Uchiha main house."

"Does this mean you'll give us to the uch--"

"No."

(Finders keepers !!)

"Madara, the most uchiha uchiha in who knows how long before itachi and sasuke came along to give him a run for his money" is so fucking funny actually, I am internalizing that line and will probably suddenly think about it later at work and giggle to myself, I can already tell

If Izuna and Hashirama are both being little bitch boys in this I do need to advocate that they should totally get to kiss and be little bitch boys ✨ together ✨(the hashiizu agenda never dies) (let them begrudgingly get a drink together--though its Izuna who does most of the begrudging--get drunk while whining about their brothers, and then share a very ill advised kiss or two that Izuna will now deny ever happened till the day he dies)

I still think Tenzo should get to bond with Hashirama bc I love them getting to interact, but Im hearing your 'bad brother Hashirama' vibes for this spin off and nodding respectfully, so like. Maybe Hashirama can be sad about Tobirama monopolizing Tenzo, literally THE only other Mokuton user in the world's time, and be mad ab that too? I dont usually write explicitly bad brother Hashirama so I'm not too good at proposing how that could go tbh but I love the soap opera / dogblood drama vibes, it's so fun

I do think that some of team Ro could be useful at the peace talk / village planning meetings if they spoke up !!

Itachi may be young but is clan heir, and no doubt knows most of the modern day clan laws that Konoha would one day put in place, so he can suggest those knowing that it's what they'd eventually land on anyways.

Meanwhile Kakashi is the student of a Hokage, who watched over the shoulder of two different Hokage's, from ages 13 to present, so he absolutely knows a thing or ten about politics and running a village (at least from an outsiders perspective) Which. Actually technically makes him the most eligible / knowledgeable person like. In all of the peace talks when it comes to running a village which is fascinating. I'm jotting that one down to reference later in my original team ro time travel fic actually, there's a lot that can be done with that

ALSO !! If this is the 'team ro time travels to warring states era' au but like, with the team ro that defected from Konoha, they totally have Opinions(tm) about Konoha, which is so fun. I feel like Shisui has the sort of personality where he might actually be vocal about things when it comes to founding Konoha.

The way that the team stood whenthey left the village, Shisui and Itachi were both still majority village loyalists (though their loyalty had been deeply shaken)

Tenzo was high key "whatever my teamamtes say I will follow" but still has Konoha's roots buried deep into his heart.

Kakashi was the most complex-- the only one who it could truly be said was against the village, and for that I think he's interesting to play with and has motivation to get inolved in village making-- or the opposite; Want nothing to do with it.

IM YELLING ACTUALLY AT TEAM RO GENRE CHANGE THTS SO FUNNY

It was actually never time travel, it was straight up dimension travel. They fr went from a grimdark angst fic to a silly fluffy cracky fuckin, blessed eyes au where Tobirama is actually secretly a Good Boi(tm) and his indescribable riz and way with children make Madara forget about the whole mutual genocide thing

(Plot twist: Izuna and Hashirama arent actually bad brothers, they're just not aware of the genre they're in and reacting accordingly to their brothers doing a sudden 180 and ending the war with the ✨power of love ✨ and also adopting several teenagers (some of which are literally their age) who appeared out of nowhere, have no credentials, two of which are technically CONFIRMED BLOODLINE THEIVES (Kakashi willing and Tenzo unwilling, lab grown mokuton stolen from Hashirama's dna is STILL BLOODLINE THEFT, thanks Orochimaru) and are losing their GODDAMN MINDS over the turn of events)

Anyways this whole thing was a riot, I loved it and u are a master at silly fluff and comedy, I had a lot of fun reading what you sent me !!!

Ik u were aiming for silly fun so I hope my additions didnt take anything too seriously, I am in my shinobi politics 'writing everything as being played straight' era, so tried my best to stick with silly fluffy fun time comments instead of tripping and falling into the political implications of, like, a disillusioned with Konoha nukenin Kakashi, at the age where he was near his most depressed and apathetic, who is also technically the most qualified person in Fire to discuss making a village, being let in on village planning with implicit backing from both the Uchiha head and Senju heir. Or how itachi in the original (non nukenin) au was down to kill Madara, but the him in this au now has even more motivation to do it. N other fun implications like that

BUT LIKE I LOVE THE FLUFF I LOVE THE SILLY

politics free zone !!! we are not making eyecontact with the drama bc this is team Ro's vacation, actually

anyways THANK YOU FOR SENDING ME SUCH A WONDERFUL AND DETAILED ASK !!! UR BRAIN IS SO BIG FOR IT, I HAD SO MUCH FUN READING IT AND THINKING ABOUT IT AND IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO REPLY TO AND I JUST HOPE I REPLIED WELL ENOUGH SDKFJHDSFJKDSHFJSDk

umm and then they all lived happily ever after, the end

[sha-brytols]

i swear on everything i am this is not rude vaguepost i promise i'm not mad about this it's just i'm very fucking pedantic for no reason .

but anyways the breach in inquisition is very much not the example to cite for why tearing down the veil is very obviously dangerous and would have catastrophic consequences because we're like. explicitly told almost directly that what happened at the conclave was a freak accident caused by a number of unprecedented events lining up to create the worst possible outcome. solas' original plan was to use corypheus as a sacrificial dummy to power up the orb because he was under the impression once corypheus powered it then he'd just fucking explode and solas could grab it and use it to tear down the veil peacefully*. but the problem is corypheus is a scary eldritch horror and can hopscotch into peoples bodies after death so he was able to keep using the orb after death, which was completely out of solas' calculations. then everything went wrong because

corypheus is an insane megalomaniac who didnt know what the hell he was doing

there was some fucking guy there that interrupted the ritual and made everything explode

red lyrium was there and made everything explode worse x2

the reason solas joins the inquisition to fix things at all instead of just standing by in a redditor pose letting everything happen is because nothing that happened at the conclave was even remotely part of his plan to tear down the veil. he was actually horrified by the damage caused and basically scrambled to try to help reverse as much damage as possible—even Despite knowing that doing so would have been a huge risk to him given that he's an elven apostate in the middle of what is like. the biggest civil war in thedas.

anyways i'm not saying any of this to dispute the "bioware does tell you point blank that tearing down the veil would be catastrophic" i'm actually saying it because the funniest thing about this to me is that it's actually objectively true but people are just kind of mistakenly using the wrong example. because. idk you might be reading the above and being like "solas is an unreliable narrator so obviously you cant trust that his plan would have went any different" but the hysterical thing is that solas himself literally says. yeah. this is gonna basically be the end of the world. i was just hoping it'd be a lot less violent.

do not get it twisted tearing down the veil would have almost definitely resulted in widespread devastation it's just solas was hinging on it being quick and clean which i think is infinitely more damning than if he was just naively under the impression it'd all be fine and what happened at the conclave was just kind of a one off thing

[nortism]

What the Ghosts have been watching on TV

Everyone

Channel 4 Home renovation shows: They're free with ads and there's an infinite amount of them so Alison puts them on for the whole gang when she and Mike have work to do in same way people put on YouTube videos for their dogs. This has backfired slightly as all the ghosts now have very strong and conflicting opinions on how Button House should be renovated.

The Great British Bake-off: A whole family event, they all get very invested. Kitty thinks Alison Hammond is the funniest person in the world. The Captain feels normal about Noel Fielding. As well as a watching it live, I'm sure they've also watched the whole back catalogue together.

Mama Mia: This where the Captain learnt his ABBA songs from. Pat and Julian enjoy the nostalgic music and I think the others are just bewitched by the story and music

Robin

Anything David Attenborough: For obvious reasons. I think he'd get a kick out of trying to do his voice. The others sometimes join in.

Cunk on Earth/ Britain: I think they've got a similar attitude towards history and I think he'd find serious historians trying to answer silly questions incredibly funny

Horrible Histories: He watches this with Kitty, they both find poop jokes funny.

Humphrey

Antiques Roadshow: I'm not sure why. I honestly think he's just glad to watch anything.

Mary

Gardener's World: I think she misses being able to look after plants and I think she'd be endlessly fascinated by how hosepipes work.

Mio Mao: She loves them fucking plasticine cats. She will not stop singing the theme song

Honestly think she'll watch anything with anyone and would get invested, she seems like the ideal person to watch telly with.

Kitty

Ru Paul's Drag Race: I think they all watch this every so often but Kitty is invested. There's bright colours, fun outfits and drama, it's definitely Alison's go to when she needs Kitty distracted.

90s and 2000s romcoms: I believe that every couple of weeks Alison and Kitty have a "girl's night" where they watch all the romcoms that Alison used to watch with her mum, mostly because I love watching romcoms with my mum and Kitty deserves that. Kitty is particularly fond of Twilight.

Thomas:

Any Jane Austen adaptations: He watches them with Fanny as they were both big fans when they were alive (its the only thing they agree on). Kitty also joins sometimes. His favourite is the 1995 Pride and Prejudice tv show.

Fanny:

Grey's Anatomy: I haven't seen it but my mum's a big fan and there's millions of seasons, I think she'd pretend she's not that into it but she definitely is.

Call the Midwife: Same as above.

The Captain:

M*A*S*H: I've seen about half an episode of this but it seems to be about fit young men in a war so it sounds like his thing. Probably Pat's recommendation.

Our Flag Means Death: I think Alison has been trying to sneakily show Cap gay media under the pretence of saying "it's just a fun show about pirates". I think the whole gang watched it together. The Captain definitely didn't cry at the end of season 1 why would think that?

Pat

Taskmaster: I think this is one they all watch together but it's definitely one of Pat's favourites. He probably attempted to set up his own version of the show with the ghost which ended horribly.

Doctor Who: I think he watched the original run when he was alive and was absolutely ecstatic to find out they made more. Julian makes fun of him for it.

Julian

Have I Got News For You: Has been airing since 1990 so he definitely watched it while he was alive. I think he likes to keep up with current politics but not in a very serious way so this is his middle ground.

Succession: I haven't seen this show but it seems to be about horrible men in suits being horrible to each other which seems right up his alley.

The Thick of It: Speaking of horrible men in suits being horrible. I think he watches this with Robin who has absolutely no idea what's going on but just laughs when Julian does and they have the best time. Julian is constantly pausing to add his own anecdotes

What We Do In The Shadows: Alison put this on as a 'let's show the Captain it's ok to be gay' show and the Captain was immediately horrified so Julian adopted it. He identifies with Lazlo.