#hell even I wouldn't want to be friends with me

[lookingforuravity]

THE ONLY EXCEPTION

♫ now playing - the only exception by paramore

bakugou x reader

word count: 1,827 words

IN WHICH each time your friends caught bakugou only being nice to you.

a/n: still 'fool for you' just changed the title (≧ω≦)

“i've never seen him so.. calm.”

“right? he's always so uptight.”

the two friends were peering over the couch as they watched bakugou and y/n sleep soundlessly. there was a serene look drawn on his face while he held y/n closely to him, her hand resting softly on his chest as their chests rose up and down simultaneously.

“how come he's so much nicer to her than any of us?” kirishima complained with a pout stitched on his lips. he'd been friends with bakugou way before (two months) him and y/n got together. where was his special treatment?

“they're dating duh. why wouldn't he be nice to her?” mina replied as gazed at the couple with a soft gaze in her eyes. their young, teenage love was truly admirable.

even if bakugou seemed to have a stick up his ass 24/7.

the couple twitched softly in their sleep. it had been a long and stressful day of endless amounts of training, and lord knew that they both needed a break. a thin blanket was all that covered their bodies, but anybody could make out the way bakugou held her waist and the way y/n laid her hand on his chest underneath the sheet.

the usually quiet library turned into a circus as it filled up with bakugou's grumbling, denki's whines, and y/n's giggling. the sight of bakugou repeatedly smacking denki on the head with rolled up paper was an entertaining sight to distract her from her note-taking.

“are you seriously this stupid?” bakugou growled as he peered over the blonde's notebook, erasing and scribbling over any mistakes he made. denki pouted while rubbing his head on the spot that bakugou smacked. “c'mon.. it's really not that easy!” denki whined.

bakugou's vermillion eyes narrowed at denki. “it's basic algebra! how did you even get this far if you can't do simple math?!” he snapped.

denki continued to pout as he grumbled under his breath, something about bakugou lacking basic respect.

“uh.. katsuki?” y/n called out hesitantly.

though he still kept the glare on his face, the way his body language softened was visible, and how his tone contrasted from denki to her was plain obvious. “what?”

she turned over her notebook towards him so he can see her work. “i think i did it wrong.. can you check it?”

bakugou grabbed her notebook and skimmed over her work. “yeah.. here, let me explain.” he leaned over closer to her, close enough to where she can smell caramel on his skin.

denki's mouth fell agape as he watched how the guy went from raising hell on him to looking like he was practically skipping in a field of flowers inside his head. “that is SO not fair! how come you're so much nicer to her than me?!”

“cause she's not an idiot! keep working!”

it was far past midnight, and it was already one thing that izuku couldn't sleep, but on an empty stomach? it made it far much worse. he tried everything in the book from counting sheep to counting his breaths, but nothing could beat his racing mind and the sound of his stomach growling.

izuku didn't want to disturb anyone, but would it really hurt if he just tip-toed to the common room? he sighed as he ran his hand through his curly green hair, quietly making his way to the kitchen to not wake anyone.

but as he walked through the common room, a taller figure appeared in front of him.

“GAH!” he yelped, hastily smacking a hand over his mouth as he realized how loud he'd screamed. “shoto!” he half-whispered. “what are you doing?!”

todoroki stood still, his expression unwavering. “i couldn't sleep.” his direction turned towards the kitchen. “i wanted to get a snack, but i think someone is in there.” he said.

that's odd. it was almost one in the morning, and the only people that izuku thought could be awake fell asleep ages ago. he asked todoroki who it was but he only shrugged, showing he only heard the person but never checked who it was.

he never thought he'd be met with the sight of bakugou resting his chin on y/n's shoulder as she made them snacks.

“at 12:47 in the morning? that's way past bakugou's bedtime…” todoroki muttered under his breath.

bakugou's tone was softer, softer than anyone had ever heard besides y/n herself. “you better not burn it.” he huffed.

y/n giggled, slightly turning her head to face his side profile. “i'm not going to burn our snacks,” she assured. “i'm an expert.”

“expert my ass.”

“hey!”

izuku and todoroki looked like a deer in headlights looking at the scene before them. they wanted to walk away, believe them, they really did. but the sight of bakugou being so domestic was such a rare and amusing sight to see.

“do we… leave?” izuku suggested.

“i don't know…” todoroki answered. “this is really weird.”

bakugou’s head shot up from her shoulder and turned to look at the two voices faster than the speed of light. his ruby eyes were narrowed as he glared them down as his lips curled. “the hell are you guys doing?”

izuku's hands flapped around in a panic. “w-we were just about to leave! i swear-”

“you're very affectionate, bakugou” todoroki said, as blunt as ever.

“shut up!” he yelled, his face turning as a red as a tomato and his hair puffed up. y/n giggled once again at the dramatic scene that laid in front of her. “do you guys want snacks too?” she offered.

“why are you giving our food to extras?” “suki!”

brutal wasn't even the word to describe today's training session. everyone was curled up on the ground, hands over their stomach as it even hurt to breathe. the sounds that filled the room were heavy breathing and complaints. and y/n— was nowhere to be found.

mina, jirou, and ochaco all wandered the hallways, a worried look etched on their face as they searched for their friend. “i'm really worried about her y'know.” mina was the first one to break the silence.

both girls nodded in agreement.

“so am i,” ochaco said. “she just disappeared right after training ended.”

the trio kept wandering the halls, looking in every corner and every turn where y/n could be hiding.

suddenly, through the glass window, they see their little y/c haired friend sitting on the bench, with her fingers intertwined on her lap and her head hung low.

“there she is!” jirou yelled, quickly running to the nearest door to go outside and get y/n while the other two girls trailed closely behind her.

but something made them stop dead in their tracks. the closer they got to the window, the more they were able to see someone elses silhouette sat next to her.

“is that bakugou?”

bakugou's arm was wrapped securely around y/n's shoulders, intently listening to her rambling about whatever she needed to get off her chest.

“i did really bad today.” she mumbled, her voice filled with sadness and frustration.

“and that’s okay.” bakugou comforted her. “one bad doesn't mean you suck. everyone has bad days.” he reassured her, rubbing light circles on her shoulders.

y/n shrugged, playing and picking at her fingers as they rested on her lap. “i just think i’m weak, y’know?” she mumbled once again.

“you're not- hey. look at me.” bakugou squished her cheeks and turned her head to face his. “stop. you think i'd be talking to you like this if you're so weak? hm?”

“no?” she muffled due to how much bakugou was squishing her face.

“exactly. you're strong, so stop putting yourself down because of one off day and keep training.”

“you're hurting my cheeks.”

bakugou let go of her face, lightly patting her cheeks as an apology. “my point is, one bad day doesn't mean you're weak. think about every other time you've kicked ass.”

y/n laughed softly, her face changing from what looked like a kicked puppy to her usual grin. “thank you suki.” she said.

“this is the cutest thing I've ever seen.” mina whispered while clenching her shirt where her heart is tightly.

“who knew the pomeranian could be such a romantic?” jirou teased as ochaco and mina giggled along side of her.

bakugou lightly ruffled the top of y/n's hair, lightly blushing from the way she looked at him with such a lovestruck glance. “you're strong. don't start with that ��i'm weak’ shit cause i won't hear it.”

“you're so sweet when you want to be.”

“now you're pushing it.”

“why are you only nice to me?” the question caught katsuki off guard.

the couple had been in y/n's dorm room simply sitting in silence, with their legs entangled together and the light noise of the TV playing in the background.

he turned his head slightly to face her, their eyes meeting instantly as she was already looking at him so softly. “why wouldn't i be?” katsuki questioned as his fingers lightly played with her hair.

y/n shrugged, not having a response to his question. it just seemed out-of-character for him. he was the type of person to not let anyone change him, good or bad.

but the crude boy would come to be a puddle of sap when it came to her. even if it wasn't obvious verbally, the ways his eyes softened when they laid upon her was enough said.

“i asked you a question first.” she retorted.

katsuki exhaled sharply, his gaze turning from her to the ceiling as his heart rate sped up a bit. “you're just.. different.”

y/n's eyebrows raised slightly as a smirk stitched itself onto her face. she scooted closer to katsuki's side, leaning her head on his bicep as she stared lovingly at his side profile. “i'm.. different? there's more to that, isn't there?”

“of course there is. you just don't get to know that stuff right now.”

y/n knew that katsuki wasn't one to talk about his feelings. she wasn't looking to change that. but the simple thought of him just looking at her differently from the rest, like shes the only person in every room, made her heart flutter.

“don't think i'm getting soft though.” katsuki grumbled, an arm slipping around her waist as he pulled her impossibly closer.

“you're just… the only exception.”

©LOOKINGFORURAVITY 2024 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other

TAGLIST: @kaerotica @sweetlike-sugarplum @misfortvne @iridescencefae @awesomesauce-oo @kalulakunundrum

[connection-terminated-blog]

Connection terminated. I'm sorry to interrupt you, Elizabeth, if you still even remember that name, But I'm afraid you've been misinformed. You are not here to receive a gift, nor have you been called here by the individual you assume, although, you have indeed been called. You have all been called here, into a labyrinth of sounds and smells, misdirection and misfortune. A labyrinth with no exit, a maze with no prize. You don't even realize that you are trapped. Your lust for blood has driven you in endless circles, chasing the cries of children in some unseen chamber, always seeming so near, yet somehow out of reach, but you will never find them. None of you will. This is where your story ends. And to you, my brave volunteer, who somehow found this job listing not intended for you, although there was a way out planned for you, I have a feeling that's not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be. I am remaining as well. I am nearby. This place will not be remembered, and the memory of everything that started this can finally begin to fade away. As the agony of every tragedy should. And to you monsters trapped in the corridors, be still and give up your spirits. They don't belong to you. For most of you, I believe there is peace and perhaps more waiting for you after the smoke clears. Although, for one of you, the darkest pit of Hell has opened to swallow you whole, so don't keep the devil waiting, old friend. My daughter, if you can hear me, I knew you would return as well. It's in your nature to protect the innocent. I'm sorry that on that day, the day you were shut out and left to die, no one was there to lift you up into their arms the way you lifted others into yours, and then, what became of you. I should have known you wouldn't be content to disappear, not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, so let me save you now. It's time to rest - for you, and for those you have carried in your arms. This ends for all of us. End communication.

sometimes I will rb a post about my shows or video games w no extra tags but irl it looks smth like this

[id in alt text]

[captain-huggy-bear]

Luke would be the type to keep his private life very private so him having a gf only really his family and friends in michigan know so the devils have no clue and i could see the boys always trying to get luke to hookup with people for like a whole season till next season when they finally learn luke has had a gf the whole time

Oh boy, 100%. He always just politely tells them he's not interested in dating anyone or having a casual hookup or pretends he doesn't notice what they're doing. Jack 100% does not help, he finds it hilarious when any of the guys are trying to get Luke to talk to some random girl in a bar, but he will 100% confirm to you that Luke is the most loyal boyfriend you could ask for. I also see Luke feeling guilty about it even though he hasn't done anything, so every time he gets back to the apartment he's telling you if you live together or phoning you if you don't and basically confessing his 'sins', like 'i'm so sorry, baby, Marky tried to get me to go out with this blonde and she wouldn't stop touching my arm and I told her I wasn't interested and I only love you.' Definitely reaches a point where he breaks and just goes 'STOP! I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND' and all the guys are just like 'why the hell didn't you tell us this sooner?' Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

"Hey, C'mon, Rusty! What about the blonde at the end of the bar?" Curtis points to a young woman around Luke's age, platinum blonde hair, little black dress, who's eyeing Luke like he might be candy. It doesn't flatter him, if anything it sends a sick feeling to his gut, a roiling discomfort because only you're allowed to look at him like that. You can eye fuck him, no one else. He feels objectified.

"Curtis, I've told you I'm not interested. Not my type." Not his type because his girlfriend is his only type and there's only one of you. It doesn't matter if 100 attractive women all tried to get his number right now, he wouldn't care, wouldn't give it out because you're the one he wants. Literally no one compares to you, he's smitten, whipped, absolutely in love.

"C'mon, seriously! You didn't go out with anyone all last season! Not even a hook up, you're celibate, man! You're young, you should be having fun!" Curtis knocks his shoulder with a grin and Luke just grips his beer tighter, feeling a familiar frustration at the situation. He spent all of last season dealing with the boys trying to goad him into hook ups and flings, throwing women at him like it was their duty to get him laid. He hated every minute of it.

"Yeah, Lukey, you were practically celibate, a monk," Jack chimes in, arm thrown over Luke's shoulder with a grin, the irony of his words not lost on either of them because Luke was definitely not celibate last year. He just wasn't hooking up with random strangers, because he'd started dating you, because you were the only person he wanted to see, to kiss, to sleep with and that still stood firm and true.

"Just go talk to her, maybe you'll get lucky and go home with her tonight! C'mon, what's wrong?" It's Dougie that chimes in this time and Luke wants to die. He wants to die. Or alternative go to your apartment and curl up with you in bed because this is the worst.

"Yeah, are you scared, Lukey?" If Jack wasn't his brother he'd have killed him already, killed him for encouraging all of this bullshit for a year, knowing full well that Luke wasn't single. But, he can't because his mom would be upset if Jack died...he rolls his eyes at him instead, shrugging his arm off of his shoulders.

"You're not secretly a virgin or anything, right, Rusty?"

"Fuck off, Lazar." He snaps, not because it would matter if he was, but because it's stupid that that's the only reason people can comprehend he wouldn't want to sleep around. Maybe it's just not his thing to have hook ups? Maybe he's focusing on his career? Maybe he's already in love and anything else would be cheap and insignificant in comparison?

"Oh, that's hit a nerve, some truth in that?" The guys are all grinning at him like they think they've got it all worked out and it just...it makes him snap, slamming the bottle of beer he'd been cradling to the bar top.

"No, y'know why I don't want to go talk to some random fucking blonde in the bar or hook up with whatever girl you throw my way? Because I've got a fucking girlfriend, okay? I'm not virgin! I'm not celibate! I just don't want to fuck a girl that isn't my girlfriend!" Luke's breathing heavy by the end of it, red it the face because it is so fucking annoying to constantly be bugged about it and he just wants everyone to get off his back. He's happily with you, he doesn't need random hook ups and he certainly doesn't need his team mates trying to get him laid like they have some moral duty to do so.

The way they look at him makes him feel stupid because suddenly they're all calling out variations of, "Dude! Why the fuck didn't you tell us this sooner?!" and he realises that maybe he could have solved this all months earlier by just saying he was seeing someone...like a normal person, maybe? But he'd wanted to keep things private...

He flounders for an explanation, mouth opening and closing, running a hand through his mess curls like that might help his brain to function.

"I just...it was new and...we were keeping it private."

It's Marky that turns to look at Jack, "Did you not know about this?"

"Oh, I knew." Jack is all smug enjoyment, leaning back against the bar and winking at the blonde Curtis had been trying to set Luke up with. Satisfaction rolled off him in cocky waves.

"Why they hell did you let us shove girls at your brother then?" Curtis asks, shocked, nay baffled because Jack had just spent an entire season practically encouraging the behaviour all while knowing full well Luke was dating you.

"It was funny," He shrugs with a grin and mentally Luke is considering whether the price he'd pay is worth putting itching powder in Jack's underwear drawer or maybe if cutting his hair in his sleep would be a better punishment since he can't rip another set of braces off him like Quinn did.

"That's messed up, Jack!" "Yeah, man!"

Luke sighs as the guys all ripped into Jack, downing the last of his beer and grabbing his phone off the bar top.

"Fuck this, I'm going to see Y/N."

"Ohh, you're girlfriend!?" And just like that Luke knows...he knows he's not out of the woods, it's just that the woods have changed from teasing and taunting him about hook ups, to doing so about his girlfriend.

Fuck, he hates being a younger brother.

[k3n-dyll]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠; 18+, wlw, fem!reader, infidelity, cowgirl/southern butch!abby, set around 1800's wild west era, oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), getting caught

𝐖𝐂 - 1.2k

𝐊𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ☆ I posted this a while ago, hated it, deleted it, kept it, 'fixed it' (?) and now here we are. Still kinda hate it but writer's block is turning me every way but loose.

If you let yourself linger on the thought for a moment—to do a bit of mental gymnastics to subside this nagging feeling of anxiety and shame—this really isn't your fault.

Truly. It isn't. It's theirs.

You weren't the one that wanted to marry, and you sure as hell wouldn't have chosen this suitor of all of them. That was your pious father. Good intentions aside, he was the one that confined you to this life.

And your sorry excuse for a husband, well, he took the other half of the blame. He's never home, and when he is the man always seems to have more important things to do. Not that you want his attention anyway, but still, it'd be nice to at least speak to the person you're forced to live with. Aside from when he wants to be inside of you, of course.

If not for them you wouldn't even be here.

If only your father hadn't mettled with your marital status - let you become a spinster instead. If your scraggly bearded husband had simply kept his shady business dealings in the back of a bar instead of inviting them to his home - her large, calloused hands wouldn't be caught so tightly around your hips. You wouldn't be sitting in the head chair of the office you weren't technically allowed to be in, eyeing the perpetually unfinished paperwork on his desk in a sad attempt to keep yourself grounded.

"You taste so fuckin' good, y'know that?"

Abby's voice and the warm, wet feeling of her tongue dragging along your slit bring you out of your own head, your hips bucking up slightly at the contact you've been all but begging for. Your lidded eyes trail down to the blonde positioned snugly between your legs with a furrowed brow, trying your best to seem disapproving through your moans. 

Who does she think she is? Popping up at your front door in the middle of the day, knowing damn well your husband wasn't home from work. This had only happened a few times before and even so, you knew exactly why she'd come over the moment you saw her and that stupid smug smirk she wears. 

She wanted to take you in his office this time. Defile the sacred workplace of the man she calls a "friend" simply to make you uncomfortable. To remind you that he couldn’t make you feel this good if he tried. 

Her piercing blues gaze right back into your own, half her face hidden by the crinkled up fabric of your skirts as she lets out a muffled laugh, the vibrations of her voice against your core making you shiver.

It's the last you see of her freckled face before your head is tossed back in pleasure, utter filth flooding past your lips as she laps at your cunt. No amount of guilt would ever make you feel low enough to tell her to stop - not when her tongue makes you squirm and twitch in ways your betrothed could only ever dream of doing.

Abby never fails to make herself seem like a woman starved, messily licking and sucking at your pulsing, puffy clit, slurping you up as if you were her first and last ever meal on this Earth.

And she'd be damned if she let you breathe for even a second.

She wants to hear you gasping, gulping for air before she allows herself to pull away and she does more even then. Pushing through a sore jaw and aching fingers without complaint for as long as you could handle it.

"A-Abby... can't take much more" You whine, your thighs squeezing onto either side of her flushed face as you gently palm at the top of her head.

A high-pitched whine escapes your throat at the curl of the two thick fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, a low, amused growl coming from Abby at the sound.

"Aw, c'mon baby. Y'got another one in there for me, don't you? You and I both know you won't get to feel this good for a long while once I'm gone" she speaks in that soft, honey-smooth tone that makes you weak in the knees. The gentle southern drawl laced within her every syllable sending jolts of pure ecstasy through your body. Looking down at her is a mistake you never fail to make in this circumstance. She knows what a simple look from her can do to you and she takes advantage of it without remorse, chuckling as she watches you nod eagerly in response.

"Atta girl" She lands a quick smack on your thigh before diving back into you, a concoction of spit and slick spilling down her chin and wetting your inner thighs, the only sound to accompany the smacking and sucking against your pussy being your whorish cries.

Your breathing becomes quicker and more shallow when you're close. Eyes glazing over as your jaw slacks, brows knitted together in desperation for another orgasm. Your tells are so predictable, yet so incredibly delicious to Abby. This is a state only she gets to see you in. Not that you've ever confirmed it aloud for her but regardless, it's clear that the pompous ass you're married to doesn't have the skill to make you cum.

"Say it, darlin'. C'mon, you know what I wanna hear" Abby growls, popping up from underneath your skirt, detaching her lips from around your clit, and replacing them with her thumb just to speak. Just to taunt you. You do know what she wants to hear, and part of you wants to roll your eyes at the thought. Maybe you would have if your brain wasn’t so fogged over - if you weren't so aware that she'd stop pumping her fingers inside of you completely if you didn't give her the satisfaction - maybe you would be so bold as to give her attitude.

"Only you - fuck! Only you can make me feel like this"

Abby chuckles “Yeah? He couldn’t make you feel this good, could he? Need me to take care of you, ain’t that right?”

You can only nod, bottom lip pinched between clenched teeth, the dam of tension resting in your abdomen readying to burst.

"I know, sweet thing. You wanna cum for me? C’mon, one more time.."

Your orgasm is blinding and loud, a sheen of sweat covering your forehead as you convulse under her touch, and your hair that had once been so neatly tied up is now a mess of frizz. You don't even hear the front door open from downstairs. Nor do you hear the footsteps that follow, too occupied with rutting yourself onto her fingers, gushing with each snap of your hips. Abby is just as oblivious, lifting up from her place between your thighs to crash her lips onto yours, too focused on wanting you to taste yourself on her tongue to even notice the jingling office door doorknob.

It's only when you both hear the old door begin slowly creaking open that your attention is snatched from one another, expressions shifting from ones of lust and satisfaction to pure horror as you both make eye contact with the twisted-up, angry face of the man you had just slandered aloud.

Shit.

Donations 4 Palestine - TLOU2 Masterlist

Taglist ; @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery , @tohoko, @rkivedpages,

@misfits-army-van, @vifilmsfilms , @dinakisser, @marsworlddd, @urbayolet

[crsssie]

let's go gambling! - spencer reid x sharpshooter!reader

"Rossi, please?" You beg. "Reid's an incredible gambler. Also, I used to gamble in the military, so by technicality, I'm pretty good too. It's just 100k."

"I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Parump because of my card-counting ability." Spencer hums. "Also—"

"If you do the math, there's a way to guarantee when to raise and fold. P times N minus one where P is pot and N is number of players in the final round of betting. You can send us both in. Pass as a couple." You offer.

"Stop stealing my lines." Spencer pauses. "Pass as a couple?"

"Your fault for telling me all of this. I was hustling the hell out of my old friends last weekend. I won like, a hundred bucks." You give him a finger gun.

"Fine, fine. Try not to lose all of my money?" Rossi tries.

"Oh, David." You rest a hand on his shoulder. "I'm getting that million bucks whether or not they want me to. I'll pay you ten percent."

Rossi gives you a look that can only really mean that he doesn't quite believe you.

You play with Spencer. He's significantly better than you, and you learn how to count your cards in the meantime, watching him run through everything in his head, and grab his wrist when he reaches for the 8-ball charm, signal going off in your free hand as Hotch understands to move in.

"Sorry. He's got a bad habit of grabbing." You glance at the door, watching as Hotch moves in. The man stands up to run, but Spencer kicks from under the table as the man trips, and you try to grab him, but he's out the door before you can even grab anything.

"Can we keep Reid in there to keep gambling?" You raise a brow, staring at the chips on the table. "He's winning. I want the million."

"This is why we don't take you to Vegas." Hotch sighs. "We need you on sight. Your rifle's in the trunk..."

"Can we keep him there?"

Hotch sighs. "Reid, don't lose it all."

"Definitely won't."

"What do you say? A nice trip to Bora bora?" You wink on your way out.

"I always wanted to visit the British Library." He nods.

You shoot two bullets when you find the unsub. One to the clock to get it to stop turning, and a second to get the gun out of the unsub's hand last minute before he can count down. Hotch is on the unsub immediately, and you watch as he's dragged off, the clocks in the car covered and numbers missing from the plates.

You meet Spencer back in the hotel room, cheek pressed to his in greeting as he hums.

"So?"

"Rossi keeps his money."

"And?"

"Fifty thousand to the banks. They didn't catch me counting cards this time." He laughs when you gasp.

"What happened to the million?" You tug at your shirt, and Spencer hums as he helps you out of it.

"Didn't want to blow it."

"Fair." You stretch your arms. "So... London?"

"Savings."

You boo at Spencer, sighing. "And here I thought you were finally going to get me a nice little present."

"Oh, that wouldn't be here, honey." He hums. "Something nicer in DC."

"Like a house?"

"Not enough money for that."

"Fair point." You tap your chin. "Wouldn't a big diamond necklace look nice on me?"

"And where would you wear that?"

"Nowhere." You pinch his cheek, humming. "Just make sure you don't gamble it off when you think about it."

"Oh, I can't play poker anywhere." He laughs, forehead pressing to yours. "But don't worry. I'll be sure to get you something nice."

If anyone notices the new cufflinks on your jacket, no one says a thing.

[m1rotics]

Possessive

cult leader's son!hongjoong x fem!reader (however body isn't mentioned

this is literally just hongjoong being a weird little freak but this marks the end of her ability to be friends with anyone besides him. hongjoong is a HUGE red flag.

hongjoong is staring again, you can see him over yunho's shoulder, off in the distance, next to someone's house. you can see his wide eyes trained on you. you force your gaze back to yunho with his bright smile and kind eyes. he's cute. charming. the kind of boy that oozes happiness. you're pretty sure he bleeds sunshine.

yunho's a nice boy. he's fourteen just like you. he's so sweet, it makes your teeth ache. he's got an easy laugh, and he helps your neighbors out from time to time— hell, he's even helped your mom a few times. he's everything hongjoong is not, and that— that bores you. thinking too much about it feels like pressing on a nasty bruise, so naturally, you ignore it.

despite the realization that this is beyond rude, your eyes wander back to hongjoong. he tilts his head, and grins but it doesn't reach his eyes. it's not mirthful. it's lackluster, dull like a rusty blade. it's barely visible, and you barely make out the idents of it but somehow you see it. then, his mouth starts moving, "come here."

your eyes drift back to yunho, tuning back into what he's saying. something about his brother, whose name you didn't catch, and how the heat has been killing him lately . mundane stuff. immediately, your mind jumps to other things. you don't know what hongjoong wants from you because he hasn't talked to you since that time by the river, and you're not close, like, at all. (you choose to disregard how bummed out you were when he started keeping his distance again.) you're barely even acquaintances.

you look past him again, but hongjoong isn't there anymore. you don't think he's gone far though, he wouldn't have. he wants you to come to him.

and that's what you do.

looking at yunho, you cut off his ramblings with a small, "it's been so nice talking to you but I have to go."

yunho pauses, eyebrows knitting together. he scans your face like you're a puzzle, trying to understand. after finding nothing, he says, "um, okay."

you don't give him any time to ask questions, rushing off in the direction you saw hongjoong. it doesn't matter that he's gone, you'll find him somewhere in the area. once you make it, a hand tugs you behind the building. you stumble a bit, narrowly catching yourself on the wall. you turn around to face him, hongjoong doesn't say anything, simply looks.

"wha-"

"who was that?" he snaps, cutting you off.

"who? yunho?"

"you know his name" he says, terse "is he your friend?"

"kinda," you mutter, and hongjoong smiles again. it's sharp this time, threatening. he steps closer and you back up, "really? you two seemed close."

stunned, your mouth opens and closes. there's so many questions running through your head, that all your words die on your tongue. hongjoong inches closer, you back away as much as you can until your back hits the wall.

"tell me, is he your boyfriend?"

you vehemently shake your head. hongjoong laughs; short puffs of air through his nose.

"then you must be fucking him? is that why he looks at you like that? because he's been sticking his dick in you."

the words impale you, leave you stuck there, choking on air. they poison your blood, make your heart pick up. beating faster.

"why," you swallow, throat dry, "do you care?"

hongjoong's eye twitches and he sneers, borderline snarling; mouth curled like a wild dog. he looks feral. he looks mean. dead eyes staring back at you. they bounce around from your eyes, to your nose, to your mouth and back up. his hands settle on your arms, slightly below your shoulders, and squeezes. his grip aches. you can feel the bruises blooming beneath his fingertips.

"I care," he spits, his tone scathing, "because you're mine."

you blink dumbly. hummingbird heart pounding in your chest, beating against the cage of your ribs. you would've laughed at the childish decree if the situation was different, if anyone else uttered such nonsense, but it's hongjoong saying it that makes it difficult.

"do you understand?"

slowly, you nod.

hongjoong's grip eases up a bit, "good, but I want to hear you say it."

"I'm yours," you mumble. you can't tell if you're embarrassed or shy or nervous and this feels like selling yourself away. what you do know is that your stomach is flipping and eating itself from whatever it is that you're feeling and looking at hongjoong's surprisingly pleased expression, you think you might've gotten in over your head.

in a flash, hongjoong's back to normal like nothing ever happened. his face blank, eyes vacant, hands dropping to his side, "it'll be in your best interest not to forget it."

and with that said, he leaves.

[jeonscatalyst]

Being part of the biggest clown shippers of the k-pop and calling others idiots is a joke a phunnyyy one at that lol.

Like you jeonscatalyst even i thought this blogger was somewhat a normal tkkr because i once got recommended their post when i was searching something, they said jikook are good friends (bare minimum) so i was like damn that's the most intellectual thing i have ever seen a tkkr say. But then i once read there clownery in jkk tag and i had to block them because i don't have patients to see the stupidity in jkk tag. they had written a whole ass Thai bl script in that post and i was like the most reaction you're getting out of me for that post is a block. i genuinely thought this one was normal and doesn't ship taekook because jikook is a company ship but of course what do we expect from sheeps? to follow one another with a blind fold on.

Taekookers should be glad that jimin isn't what they want him to be (leaning more into fanservice lol) because Who jk asked to do a live with him? To jm and what did jm do? declined the offer. now WHO asked jk to do a live with him? tae. jm said he still remembers how bam used to sleep on his arm when he was baby but who has a pic posted with bam from company? tae with a caption "I raised bam" when not even jk was able to do that given his busy schedule so bam has spent most of his time in training center he still does. so jm and other members also knew bam way before ITS 2 and given that one pic of tae and bam seems like jk took bam to the comp and jm has known bam to say how he used to sleep in his arms but did he post anything? No. when jk was happy that he'll get his first boxing partner who was he talking about? JM. who does boxing together at the same centre? jm but who has posted a video of some regular boxing practice saying jk thought him even tho jk said he was just having fun with him? Tae.

Who has been with jk on his b'day (confirmed) multiple times? Jm but has he ever posted their pictures celebrating jk's b'day ever despite jm being physically present there? Never. even when in 2022 he posted jk's pic from his home jm literally zoomed in and cropped hell out of it and if it wasn't for jin asking jk we wouldn't even know jm was there and only AFTER jk confirmed jm being there, jm posted the pic so he doesn't care what shippers wants because if he did he would be doing that but i do remember tae posting a full pic of tae and jk on his b'day even tho jk posted the cropped one. Who was it who started live when vmin were outside jk's house? tae and who asked to cut the live and not bother jk who was doing live on his own? Jimin. who was who started live at jk's home when vhopekook were there? tae but i do remember jk saying he wasn't planning on starting any live but tae did so himself and did jm start any live when he was at jk's home? never. Jm was with jk when jk did live after his GMA perfomance yet jm didn't involve himself in jk's live and let hi do his own live even though we all already knew jm was in NYC itself cause even the host of the had asked jk. but i do remember Tae entering a suchwita episode of jk even when jk went "Can you leave we're filming something important?". it wouldn't have taken much from jm to get in jk's live but both lives jk did in NYC jm never once interfered or asked jk to start a live when they were together in NYC.

Who was it that went on live talking about calling jk and about the food? but when fans asked jm if he went to eat that dish he asked for jk and jm said no mind you he could have skipped the question not choosing to say it in the first place but he chose the question and answered honestly because he quite literally doesn't give a fk about what shippers want to hear and what not. How many times has tae gone live and mentioned ONLY jk and the deep the live? too many that everyone in the fandom was making a joke about it as to how tae's always talking about jk. But i do remember jm asking jk why was he even watching his videos (jm's videos in that 1.5 hrs live jk did) and that he should have slept.

Jimin is serving with jk for more than a year now and not even a single picture he's posted of him with jk and i can guarantee them that had it been any other pair serving in military together (pair excluding jm because he wouldn't have posted with anyone but maybe that other member have posted with jm who knows but never jm) we would have seen their pics together from military. we have all members posting their pics in uniform except jm, jk and yg. if jm actually leans into FS he would have posted once every now n then but guess what? he doesn't give a shit about that.

Also they should be glad that it's jm who gives updates of him and jk from MS (tho it's nothing much that we're doing well and talking) because if we leave it upto jk then man gives updates like "As soon as i finish my work i go to jimin hyung, we go a little away from other soldiers and sing out loud ", "me and jimin hyung sang this song almost Daily while showering together". they said jm saying he talks to jk before going to bed is somehow him sexualizing so what does jk saying all that says about him if jm was sexualizing? lol. they should be glad jm doens't give updates like jk because it's easy for him to say that jk comes to me after he finishes his duty but he never said like that when jk himself said it. they should decide who's updates they prefer then because jk has a habit of telling things in detail.

Saying jm leans more into fanservice and jk is considerate of tae's feelings when jk himself has described jm's charm is him being "considerate" like?? jk himself thinks jm is the most considerate. he literally said smth like being on his own is tae's charm (something like that) while jm's charm is being considerate when asked about member's charms. so if jk thinks jm is very considerate how is he the one leaning in FS while jk is setting boundries? Literally contradicting members' own words. mind you jk himself thinks that jm's Actions is something he takes from jm as in that part of jm is seen in jk. when someone asks jk why he's so considerate he says it's because he's following jm meaning he follows jm's consideration. The man who links all of his good doings immediately to jm, how are they claiming that same person doesn't know boundries? again contradicting with what jk actually says and thinks about jm.

By making these comparisons I'm not accusing tae of doing anything but I'm just showing them that if we sit here and start using their logic maybe before jm they'd have to start question tae IF they wanna go with their logic. They should be glad jm ain't what they project onto him.

Wow anon,

When you lay everything out like this, it becomes quite clear who could actually be considered to be “catering” to shippers…if we were to follow their own logic, that is.

I’ve always believed that the members have every right to mention, post about, or visit each other as much as they please. No part of me would ever see that as catering to shippers because, at the end of the day, they know each other intimately, and we, as outsiders, do not.

Given the way you’ve outlined things in your ask, it’s almost unbelievable that Tae does all of this, yet these same people still insist that Jimin is the one pandering to shippers. It’s even more absurd when you realize that the very people accusing Jimin of catering to shippers are the same ones who have Tae as their favorite and actively ship him with Jungkook. Can you imagine the uproar if Jimin had done even a fraction of what Tae has?

From the way they talk, it’s clear that they’ve never truly listened to what the members say. Actually, scratch that—they do listen, but only when they can twist the members’ words to fit their own narrative.

It’s funny what you uncover when you take a closer look at their history.

Here, we can all clearly see and hear Jungkook explaining that Jimin is good at leaving him alone after he asks once or twice, whereas Tae will come back about thirty times. The members all agree with him on this. Based on that, who seems to struggle with respecting boundaries? Who appears more inconsiderate of Jungkook’s feelings?

Absolutely nothing Jungkook said here or anywhere else implies that Jimin disregards boundaries or is some insensitive, selfish person who ignores the emotions of his friends. But I can bet most Taekookers haven’t even seen this and those who have, have likely convinced themselves that the members only said it because it was their “job.”

You know, because apparently, it was all part of some grand plan. According to them, the members were tasked with portraying Bang PD’s favorite, “Mimi,” as an angel. Cite anything from the members own words that contradicts their beliefs, and they’ll immediately claim the boys were lying, following a script, or just “doing their jobs.” Because, of course, Bang PD founded BigHit not to create music or cultivate artists but to sign idols into contracts that require them to spend their careers propping up Jimin’s image. Forget singing, dancing, and performing…their real job, apparently, is to sit down and say the nicest things about Jimin so the world can view him as an angel🙄

[pruneunfair]

Roasting OI leads, Part 1: Remarried empress.

Heinrey, if you don't get your "woe is me." Ass outta here-

Fuck outta here with your "UwU, I wuv my wife." bullshit, your a grown ass man, he LITERALLY turns into her pet bird. He really thinks he's cute when he does it, thinks it's cute to have the reputation of a womanizer for no concrete reason but hey! It was actually ERGI pretending to be Heinrey so it's TOTALLY fine. Yeah, I bet those women who had no clue they were essentially being assaulted via deception were REALLY happy about the fact you weren't a real womanizer.

Mother fucker you are the emperor of a landlocked country and your goofy ass is making everyone your enemy when you don't even have direct access to an OCEAN.

Your actions are the damn REASON your wife is being hunted down, your dumbass made enemies with another important noble house, you could've ended when you imprisoned Krista (I really do believe he straight up killed her and made it look like a suicide) but no, you had to make the grand Duke essentially let his daughter get hanged because otherwise you would have went after the GRANDKIDS!

And that's not even mentioning he fed the old Duke the remains of his son!

Serves him his own son and has the audacity to act all sad and depressed when he is told that not even hell wants his wacky ass.

If it isn't being known as a tyrant, it will be you being known as a fucking idiot who ruled based on your wifes happiness as seld justification to help you sleep at night.

Yeah I'm sure the wife that was killed and the children's that got sold to slavery had a lot to do with one guy trying assassinate Navier.

This bro really acting like he such a misunderstood man who just wanted to protect his pregnant wife, while selling CHILDREN into slavery. If those kids grow up and end up as Rashtas, I better not see Navier or Heinrey complaining when they come back for revenge.

By the way? You straight up organized this with your weird ass "I like em 16 and magical" friend Ergi.

Just know that Heinrey was willing to help lead a young mother to insanity so Navier wouldn't have to face criticism. Did the writers not realize they were calling themselves out or was this left by the manhea translators who agreed that Heinrey is full of shit.

This you?

"I don't want to lie to you." And then he proceeds to hide the fact that he was stealing magic for over 100 chapters and would've kept the act up if she didn't find out for herself. "I no wanna go to war cause wuv you mah queen cute 😢" and Just like Sovieshu defending Rashta when she acts cute for him, Navier doesn't seem to really care.

Speaking of Navier.

Don't think you're safe girl!

Navier, honey, sweetie, I usually give you the benefit of the doubt since you are far from the most evil person here, but you don't get call yourself a fair Empress while condoning your husbands shit just because he's open about it.

Hell.. I don't think her description can even say she's kind to all her subjects when A: Out of all the mages who got their magic back, Evalie is the only one since she's clearly the favorite out of all the poor kids and B: She clearly doesn't give a fuck about slavery. Like this isn't just a case where she dislikes it but can't change the law, no. She outright doesn't give a shit and sees slavery as a mere afterthought.

Peep her reactions when she learns Rashta is a slave.

She. Doesn't. Care

I know you didn't think we wouldn't notice you making friends with a slave owner out of spite for the slave that got on your nerves. (Well actually almost no one noticed)

Navier, You have every right to be pissed that your husband is humiliating and verbally abusing you.

But even if you supported the confederacy with all your heart, you should still know that Rashta, as a slave, CAN'T SAY NO to the EMPEROR. Hell even if she were a commoner she couldn't say no.

This the same woman acting like it was unfair that Landre almost got executed with no trial BTW. Lande, who stabbed Rashta while she was pregnant because she spread some rumors about Duchess Leonardo Dicaprio. Sure he didn't know she was pregnant but he still attempted to kill someone, he brought that knife with him, that was premeditated.

but I guess trials for someone to be proven innocent or guilty sure don't matter when it comes to the people affiliated with your enemies.

[connection-terminated-blog]

Connection terminated. I'm sorry to interrupt you, Elizabeth, if you still even remember that name, But I'm afraid you've been misinformed. You are not here to receive a gift, nor have you been called here by the individual you assume, although, you have indeed been called. You have all been called here, into a labyrinth of sounds and smells, misdirection and misfortune. A labyrinth with no exit, a maze with no prize. You don't even realize that you are trapped. Your lust for blood has driven you in endless circles, chasing the cries of children in some unseen chamber, always seeming so near, yet somehow out of reach, but you will never find them. None of you will. This is where your story ends. And to you, my brave volunteer, who somehow found this job listing not intended for you, although there was a way out planned for you, I have a feeling that's not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be. I am remaining as well. I am nearby. This place will not be remembered, and the memory of everything that started this can finally begin to fade away. As the agony of every tragedy should. And to you monsters trapped in the corridors, be still and give up your spirits. They don't belong to you. For most of you, I believe there is peace and perhaps more waiting for you after the smoke clears. Although, for one of you, the darkest pit of Hell has opened to swallow you whole, so don't keep the devil waiting, old friend. My daughter, if you can hear me, I knew you would return as well. It's in your nature to protect the innocent. I'm sorry that on that day, the day you were shut out and left to die, no one was there to lift you up into their arms the way you lifted others into yours, and then, what became of you. I should have known you wouldn't be content to disappear, not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, so let me save you now. It's time to rest - for you, and for those you have carried in your arms. This ends for all of us. End communication.

A painting referenced from pictures I took during an evening walk ~

[pennyold]

behavior | j.m

Summary: a small correction from your best friend's father will help you avoid being a badly behaved girl.

Warnings: plot then filthy shi, public exhibition, flirting, arguing, suggestive language, car sexism, fingering, oral (male receiving), choking, swearing, size kink, and orgasm denial.

w.c: 1,623

a/n: what yall think about this one? I fucking loved it, enjoy it !!

main masterlist ↲

peace and love, penny ★

Tess's phone started ringing in my hands, she was unconscious in front of me; I sat her in a chair, looked at her phone, and the name "dad" glowed on the screen, it stopped ringing and I felt relieved, I wouldn't know what to say about this. He called again, and I started thinking about what to invent in a message, I couldn't let him hear my voice.

"Hi, Dad," minutes later he replied, "Why don't you answer the calls, Tess? Are you still with your friend? Are you okay?" I answered each of his questions, and he responded calmly, his next message left me stunned, "I'll arrive in ten minutes, I can take my friend home. I don't like that place, and especially because you are being alone without someone to accompany you." I bit my lip thinking of a response, I answered and blocked the phone, putting it in my pocket.

Ten minutes later, I was outside the establishment with Tess in my arms. In the distance, I saw her dad's pickup truck, and my heart was pounding; I was very nervous. When he parked in front of us, he got out of the car, almost breathing fire as he walked towards me and Tess. "What the hell were you thinking?" He looked at me, and I just stared at the ground, feeling embarrassed. "Tess drank too much and has thrown up twice," I said. He shook his head and picked up Tess, carrying her to the back seat. "Get in the car. I'll take you home.”

Without saying a word, I got into the truck, buckled my seatbelt, and stayed silent until Joel got into the driver's seat, my skin prickled at the sight of his serious face; he was angry. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye during the ride, visualizing the scenery through the window when I saw the street of my house. I was about to speak, but I noticed how Joel tightened the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. I was screwed. 

Finally, I spotted a familiar street; we were near his house. He parked outside the house and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Wait here," he said. I grabbed the edges of my skirt and said, "Okay." He took Tess from the back seat and brought her into the house; it took him a few minutes to return, I watched as he took firm strides, got into the truck, and looked at me, "Are your parents home?" I nodded, "Do your parents know I'm taking you home?" "Yes," he nodded. "Perfect." He started the truck.

During the ride, I noticed that he was dissatisfied and I wanted to apologize; I never meant to bring problems to either Tess or him. "Joel" without looking at me spoke "Yes?" I looked at my skirt, still held in my hands. "Sorry about earlier, I didn't mean to lie to you and cause problems for Tess," he laughed. "I don't have problems with Tess, I do with you." Shit...

I looked out the window before speaking; I was cooked, if I said something wrong, it would be my end. I saw that I was not even remotely close to my home, it looked like a construction site about to be finished. I noticed how he moved the gear shift, and the truck stopped. "Joel..." he looked at me without any expression "You know what it means, darling.” I swallowed hard and quietly opened the door, but I couldn't leave because Joel grabbed it and slammed it shut. "Are you trying to escape from your punishment?" I shook my head in denial and shrank into the tiny space between the door and Joel's body. "So? Where would you go? Here, no one will listen to you, nor will they find you," I looked at him, pleading for mercy. "Don't look at me like that, you brought this on yourself," and he was right, I had done it, and I knew what the consequences would be.

Joel and I had agreed to please each other whenever the opportunity arose, as long as Tess and my parents didn't find out. One day, like today, I went out with Tess and lost her because I was with a guy. Joel showed up and asked me about her, and I didn't know where she was. He got angry just like today, and I got a punishment, painful, but I was very turned on.

I straightened up in my place and accepted my fate, I was being a brat by not accepting the punishment I deserved. "Good girl, always pleasing me," he looked me from head to thighs, as far as he could see. "What panties are you wearing?" "White lingerie," he smiled at me and sat up in his seat. "Take them off." I obeyed and took them off, allowing him a glimpse of my wet pussy. I slid the lingerie down my heels and handed them to him. He took them and tucked them into his pants pocket.

He patted his crotch; he wanted me to sit there, so I did. I felt my pussy brush against his bulge while adjusting myself, and Joel opened my legs, parting the folds of my core. I moaned and rested my head on his shoulder. "Joel," his breath grazed my neck, and I shivered when he brought his mouth close to my ear. "I didn't bring you here to please you, darling, relax." I bit my lip and nodded.

He rubbed my clit, and my legs trembled due to the sensation of his large fingers on my folds. I bit my lip again to avoid letting out a moan, and I felt his middle finger travel to my entrance, stimulating it. I couldn't resist and moaned, writhing in Joel's lap. "Stop moving," he said. I obeyed, and due to the effort, my legs were trembling; I couldn't resist it.

He inserted his finger and pumped my entrance, making me writhe more and my legs contract due to my effort not to move. He pumped his finger quickly, and I felt I was close to cumming, and so was Joel; so he stopped, and I could feel my pussy contract due to the lack of attention, I whimpered. "Joel,” he pulled my hair, making my neck twist back "Please, let me cum” he shook his head, tightening his grip on my hair "Bad girls like you don't deserve to cum" he threw me into the passenger seat and started unbuttoning his pants, I watched each action in detail, waiting for his orders.

He asked me to come closer with his hand, and I did. I leaned towards his pants and saw how he pulled the glans out of his underwear. Joel's cock is huge and thick, with prominent veins and the tip dripping pre-cum. I adjusted myself and Joel grabbed my hair again, guiding my mouth to the tip of his glans. I leaned in and slowly sucked the tip, then pushed it deeper until I couldn't fit it anymore.

"Suck it all,” I tried, but I choked, so I only sucked it as far as I could, Joel, unsatisfied, made me take his entire glans into my mouth, I choked again, and saliva dripped from my mouth, now he was controlling my actions. The tip of his cock hit my throat, and I couldn't take it anymore, a tear fell from my eye, causing me to swallow it with his dick.

I felt his cock start to twitch inside my mouth; he was about to cum, so I sucked it as hard as I could. While he grabbed my hair, making quick movements, he groaned as he felt his arousal approaching. "I'm gonna cum in that pretty mouth, darling, and you're going to swallow it, right?” I moaned, feeling myself choke more and more, feeling his cum spurt down my throat. Joel made me swallow it, keeping his cock in my throat. "Shit, did you swallow it, darling?" I nodded. "Everything?" I nodded again and showed him my tongue. "Good girl," I watched as he adjusted his pants and put on his belt. "Now, I want you to touch yourself until you cum, while I take you home. Could you do that for me?” I nodded and slightly opened my legs, placing my hand on my pussy, and massaging it to stimulating it a bit. "Yes, that's right, don't stop doing it until you cum, baby.”

I rubbed my clit with my arousal, I bit my lip holding a moan; I wasn't satisfied, I wanted Joel's fingers fucking my pussy. "Mmh, I want your fingers, Joel." He shook his head and said, "You don't deserve it. Get yourself off, and I'll see if I can please you next time." I whimpered and proceeded to insert a finger, but it wasn't what I wanted, so I went back to rubbing my clit, trying to reach my climax. "Shit, shit, Joel, I'm gonna cum.” He glanced at me with a smile, "Cum, princess, I want to see that pretty pussy dripping your juices." I opened my mouth, letting out the breath I didn't know I was holding "Oh my... shit!" my pussy started to contract and pulse as I rubbed it gently "That's it, so obedient" I looked ahead and noticed the traffic light was red, I took him by the face and kissed him desperately.

"Still needy? Huh?" I nodded, "Tough luck, princess, now you’ll have to wait, sweetheart. I hope you understood your lesson, I don’t want to be rude, but I won’t respond if you don't behave next time." I grimaced, and apart from him, he was very mean and cruel sometimes.

divider: @/enchanthings-a

[blueskrugs]

I Know I Could Have Loved You | Brock Boeser

at long last, it's here! this is my fic for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange, written for @one-night-story! Once again, I am SO sorry this is a bit late, but I had a really brutal week.

I hope you enjoy!!

length: 2000 words

You met Brock Boeser in 2015 when you were both freshmen at the University of North Dakota.

He wasn't your best friend at first. 

In fact, he'd rolled his eyes and when you were forced to partner with him for a stupid project in your intro to stats course. You don't remember exactly when he did become your friend, but  before you knew it your weekends were spent watching hockey games, then going out for fast food french fries with Brock, or lounging in each other's dorm rooms while you did homework. (Or while you did homework, and Brock pretended to do his own.) 

You don't know when you fell in love with Brock Boeser, either, just that you did.

Brock dated a few people while at UND, like most of the hockey players did. They stuck around for a few weeks or months before disappearing. Brock never bothered to introduce you to any of them. You tried to not let it bother you. 

“You should move to Vancouver, "Brock said suddenly one summer day. He'd signed his ELC just a few months prior—instead of returning to UND with you in the fall, he’d be off to Vancouver for training camp with the Canucks. 

You were both tanning by the lake, and you lowered your sunglasses to look sideways at Brock. He wouldn't meet your eyes.

"Brock, some of us have to actually finish college before getting a job," you said. You still had 2 years before graduation. "And why the hell should I move to Vancouver?"

Brock shrugged, all forced nonchalance. "Well, I'll be there."

You scoffed. "Sure, from October to April." You didn't know anyone in Vancouver, excluding Brock, who only counted during hockey season anyway.

"But I'll miss you," Brock argued. "What am I supposed to do without you?"

"I think you'll manage just fine, Boes," you told him. "You survived this long without me before we met, didn't you? You can keep surviving now, too."

Brock pouts at you, but doesn't argue the point further, so you think that's the end of it. You put your sunglasses back in place on the bridge of your nose and settle back against your chair. You can’t deny that it leaves a nice fuzzy feeling in your chest that Brock thinks he’ll miss you so much that he’s begging you to join him in Vancouver.

Brock doesn’t bring it up again that summer, or for the next two years as you’re finishing up college, and you forget about the whole thing. The years pass; you graduate. 

Brock comes to your graduation party, kisses you on the cheek, and spends the afternoon charming your parents and your friends from high school and from UND. Brock always manages to stay within your orbit, never more than arm’s reach away from you. It’s nice, to have him back at your side like this. 

It's only when the party is over and Brock is helping clean up that he springs the question on you again.

"Have you thought about it at all?" he asks, apropos of absolutely fucking nothing.

You've had a few drinks, and it takes your brain a few seconds to catch up. "What?" you ask. "Thought about what?"

“Moving to Vancouver with me."

You already have a job lined up in your hometown. You haven't thought even once of moving to Vancouver instead.

"Brock, I can't just move to another country."

"What if I want you to?“

"Oh, sure, that will go over well on a visa application. ‘Because my bestfriend wants me to.’"

Brock sticks his tongue out at you.

"You should at least come and visit me," he pleads, "I really think you'll love it."

You roll your eyes at Brock. "I guess I can make time to visit,” you say, ignoring Brock's exaggerated cheer before he squishes you into a hug.

Brock manages to talk you into visiting him in June, because—in his words— "It's prettier in the summer."

He's not exactly wrong, you have to admit, after a week of traipsing around the city with Brock. You're watching a firework show with your head on Brock's shoulder when you realize you're starting to picture yourself in Vancouver, starting a real life here.

"D'you really think I could get a job here?” you murmur to Brock during a pause in the fireworks.

"What?” Brock asks. He turns to you. His blond hair glows in the light of the fireworks overhead. "Never mind,” you whisper back.

You begin searching for jobs in Vancouver that night, in the quiet darkness of Brock's spare bedroom.

Before you know it, you've lined up the perfect job—even better than the one you'd originally found back home, not that you'll ever tell Brock that—and Brock has helped you find an apartment in the city. 

"It's not far from me,” Brock had told you when he was helping you move in, "so you can come over and walk Milo and Coolie whenever."

"Oh, is that the real reason you wanted me to move out here?” you tease. "Free dog walking?"

Brock shrugs innocently but chuckles. "Well, I need someone to watch them when we're on road trips and stuff.”

You throw a wad of bubble wrap at him.

Later, while you and Brock are eating pizza on your living room floor, Brock flops into his back and sighs. You poke him in the head with your foot.

"You good, buddy?” you ask.

"What do you think of dating apps?” Brock says, which isn't really an answer.

You've always been too scared to try dating apps yourself. Instead of telling Brock that, you say, "You're a professional athlete.” And a very attractive one, but you don’t say that part. "What do you need dating apps for?”

Brock looks up at you from his sprawl on your floor. "Because I'm tired of being single?” he asks.

You flip him off. You don't say, I'm single, too, you could always date me. You got used to putting aside your feelings for Brock a long time ago.

"And you think dating apps are the solution? You didn't have any issues getting people to date you in North Dakota.”

Brock rolls his eyes. "I didn't play for the Canucks, then. It's all people I meet now seem to care about.”

You're still not sure how dating apps will solve that problem.

As if he hears your unspoken question, Brock continues. "At least this way, I can weed out puck bunnies or whatever a lot faster, instead of wasting my time.” He cranes his neck around so he can look at you directly. "So will you help me or not?” 

You think you'd rather get stabbed directly in the heart than to help Brock date someone else, but you never could say no to him.

"Fine, whatever,” you say. "Gimme your phone.” 

You're already regretting your decision less than ten minutes later as you watch Brock scroll through his camera roll to add pictures to his profile.

"You can't use your official headshot!” you tell him, trying to snatch his phone. "People are going to think they're getting catfished.”

"I don't have a lot of good pictures of myself!” Brock protests.

You've nixed three more photos—all pictures Brock has evidently stolen from the team's social media—("Why the hell do you save all these, anyway?”)—when Brock throws his hands up and passes you his phone.

"You do it then,” he tells you.

Brock's own camera roll is obviously useless, so you pull out your own phone. It only takes a few minutes of scrolling for you to pluck a handful of good photos out of your camera roll and Airdrop them to Brock. He's looking at you a little strangely when you hand his phone back.

"What?” you ask.

"I didn't know you took so many pictures of me,” he says. 

"I don't take that many,” you defend weakly. It's not like you have an entire album on your phone of pictures of him, or anything. 

Brock drops the subject, but you still feel uneasy as you continue helping him finish his profile. The two of you spend almost an hour bickering over which prompts to choose or the answers Brock writes for them before Brock deems his profile "good enough”.

"'Good enough?'” you argue. “This profile is a masterpiece,” you declare. "We'll get you cuffed in time for Christmas.”

Brock snorts at you. "All thanks to you,” he says, smacking a kiss to your cheek.

You try not to feel any particular way about it.

Brock spends the next few weeks bringing you his dating app matches to "approve.” He even shows you some of the funny ones—mostly girls tripping over themselves for the chance to sleep with The Brock Boeser of the Vancouver Canucks. He gets a lot of matches. 

You try to muster the appropriate enthusiasm for Brock, as he seems to be throwing himself into this endeavor with all the energy he throws into hockey.

It's hard, though, when all you can do is compare yourself to them. You wonder what Brock sees in them that he’s never seen in you.

Brock never seems to notice if your encouragement is lackluster.

Matches turn into a revolving door of first dates for Brock. A few times, first dates turn into second dates, and even into a third date or two. 

You force yourself to stop obsessively keeping track of his dates, and to pretend like each date he goes on doesn't drive the knife even deeper into your heart.

Brock's in the middle of telling you about his latest date—you think he’s been seeing this person for nearly a month—when he stops abruptly in the middle of a sentence.

"Are you okay?” he asks.

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?” you say. It doesn’t sound very confident, even to your ears. 

"You've got that look on your face, the one where you're mad at me, but trying to pretend that you're not.”

You try to arrange your face into something more neutral.

"I'm not mad at you, Brock,” you say. You don't think he believes you. 

"So why do you always get all—” Brock gestures vaguely at your face. “—pissy whenever I talk about my dates?”

"I do not! And besides, I didn't know moving to Vancouver meant a front row seat to your dating life! Don't you have teammates to talk about this shit with?”

Brock scoffs. "They don't care about my dating life, and, apparently, neither do you.” 

"Brock, it's not that I don't care—” 

Brock cuts you off. "Then what is it?”

"I care too much!”

"What?” he says.

"Dammit, Brock, why don't you want to date me?” you snap.

Brock shakes his head. You probably shouldn't have said that.

"What do you mean?” he asks slowly.

"You heard me the first time, Boeser. Why are you searching all over Vancouver for someone to date when I've been here the whole time?” 

Brock takes a step closer to you. You take a step backwards; your kitchen is small, and you end up trapped against the counter.

"The whole time? "Brock repeats dumbly.

You could slap him. "Yes, Brock. Boy, it's a good thing you're pretty and good at hockey, because you can be really stupid sometimes.”

"Hang on,” Brock says. He's moved even closer. "How was I supposed to know?”

"Do you think I'd more to another country for anyone?” you ask.

"Oh,” Brock says. Then he says, "For how long?”

"Huh?”

“How long have you been in love with me?” Brock asks.

“I don't know, sometime freshman year, I guess.” There was never really a lightbulb moment for you; your feelings for Brock grew and morphed so slowly you almost didn't notice until it was too late.

Brock kisses you then, crushing you up against the cabinets with the force of it. His hands are warm on your hips, his lips gentle and firm against yours.

You pull away, a little breathless.

Brock grins at you. “If I had known this was an option, I would have kissed you a long time ago.”

"So, can we delete that dating app now?” you ask, forehead resting on Brock's shoulder.

"We can do whatever you want,” Brock says, leaning in to kiss you again.

You suppose deleting his dating profile can wait a little while.

[nephilimeq]

Stuck in the Middle With You

Prompt: Clingy Boyfriend

@bucktommyfluffebruary

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62721625/chapters/160733068

Buck was annoyed.

No, scratch that—he was pissed.

It had been over seventy-two hours—and he still hadn’t seen his boyfriend. Hell, he had been forced to go back to his apartment because there was no point in going over to Tommy’s house because he wouldn't even be there for another forty-eight hours. Somehow—he had no idea how—the end of Bucks forty-eight had overlapped with the beginning of Tommy’s seventy-two, and the only thing he wanted to do was pull his hair out by the roots and scream into the void.

…But he couldn’t, so instead he was doing the next best thing: drinking with Eddie and complaining about his life.

“Dude, you’ll be fine,” his friend reassured him as he sat next to him at the bar at a quarter past eight. “it’s not like you guys haven’t gone five days without seeing each other since you two started dating…”

Buck didn’t look up at him, casting his eyes down towards his glass.

“Seriously?!”

He let out a whine as he stretched out almost flat against the bar and reluctantly admitted, “Yeah, we’ve kinda been attached at the hip—”

“Or other body parts,” Eddie muttered before taking a swig of his beer and Buck glared at him and said, “Hey! No interrupting!” and threw a rogue peanut shell at him, and then added, “I mean, we still text, call, and video chat, but…god, it’s just not the same, you know?” and then took a long drag of his own beer, thinking about the fact that Tommy would reprimand him for choosing such a generic brand instead of going for one of the nicer craft beers with a better flavor.

But he didn’t want a better flavor, he wanted to drown his sorrows and didn’t need something like flavor getting in the way of that. Besides, he wouldn’t have appreciated the taste anyway, far too focused on trying to numb the longing feeling in his chest that felt as though it was turning into a cavernous hole.

Eddie gave him a look and said, “Look, if you miss him so much, then why don’t you swing by the 217?” and Buck shot him a look.

“Because, they’re on standby for the fires and their schedule is all over the place! And-and I don’t wanna just, you know, show up like the clingiest boyfriend in the world! I’m not some, some…tween girl who’s obsessed, you know?”

“You’re not? Coulda fooled me,” his friend drawled as he turned and leaned with his back to the bar and Buck found himself glaring at him all over again, getting slightly annoyed at his friend’s attitude, and threw another peanut at him, thrilled when it hit his chin and then fell into the front pocket of his flannel, and he muttered into the crook of his folded arm, “Ha, three points,” knowing that if Tommy had been there he would have appreciated him making the basketball joke.

Eddie merely shot him an arched eyebrow.

“You’re acting like Christopher, right now, you do know that, right?” he said as he fished out the peanut and popped it into his mouth.

Buck scoffed and slowly sat up, saying, “If you’re telling me that I have the emotional maturity of a fourteen-year-old, you are way off on that mark. According to Dr. Jensen, I have the emotional maturity of a twenty-five year old.”

“Buck, you’re thirty-four.”

“Yeah, I’m still catching up. So?”

Eddie merely shook his head and took another sip from his beer while Buck cast a glance around the bar, noting that it was still a light crowd. Of course, it was the middle of the week, and eight o’clock on a Wednesday evening wasn’t exactly the hip time for people to be out drinking. God, he was pathetic.

--

“Oh, god, just call him!” Sal said, sounding thoroughly annoyed—but Tommy shook his head and said, “I can’t! He’s out with Eddie and I don’t want to bother him while he’s having a good time off shift, you know?”

“If he’s anything like you, he doesn’t know how to have a good time,” muttered Lucy from behind her cards on the other side of the table, her feet propped up on the edge. “I take that bet and raise you two skittles,” she then said, arching an eyebrow at him, and Tommy knew immediately that she was bluffing and said, “I call.”

She smirked.

“Read ‘em and weep, Kinard.”

She laid down her cards with all the confidence of someone twenty years her senior—and Tommy nodded and said, “Nice hand, Donato. Full house…which would be great if I didn’t have a straight flush,” and he laid down his hand with a smirk, and she let out a huff and dropped her legs and said, “God, I hate your poker face. You’re inscrutable.”

“It’s a gift,” he said, pulling the pile of candy towards him, popping a lemon skittle into his mouth…and found his eyes drifting towards his phone, where he had left it on the table, wondering if he should give Evan a call. He hadn’t been able to spend any time with him for two days already, and now he was stuck with another three days without him. God, he had never gone more than three days without him, and now he was going to be away from him for a total of five fucking days.

His hand twitched—and then Sal said, “For fuck’s sake, just call him!”

“Language Deluca!” shouted their captain, but he simply rolled his eyes and moved over to him, shoving his shoulder up against his.

“Look, have the two of you been apart for very long before? Anything longer than two or three days?” he asked…and Tommy reluctantly admitted, “Uh…no. We’ve never spent more than three days apart since we got back together,” and his friend let out a long sigh that lasted so long it almost seemed as though he was deflating.

He then said, “Mierda…you two are grade-a clingers, aren’t you?”

…and Tommy snorted and started to laugh and through his laughter he managed to say, “Okay, yeah, I guess we are. When we’re at home we do almost everything together,” he admitted, giving Sal a sideways glance. “I think we’re both kinda touch starved and we both need a lot of reassurance after what happened to us all those months ago. I think we’re also both a little bit afraid on some sort of subconscious level that the other person is gonna just up and leave …”

His friend turned so they were both facing the same way and said, “You two are good together. So, why don’t you text him?”

--

“…Because if I text him, then he’ll know that I can’t go more than a couple days at a time without him!” Buck explained as he stood on the other side of the pool table, moving the stick between his hands in an agitated manner. “I don’t want him to think that I’m desperate! Don’t you get that?”

Eddie glanced up at him as he lined up his shot and muttered under his breath, “I get that you’re both grade-a clingers…”

Buck shot him a look.

“You don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head and walking over to where Eddie was lining up his shot. “If I reach out first then that means I’m the clingier one! And I am not the clingier one! You’ve never seen how Tommy follows me around the apartment when he comes over…or how-how whenever I go to his place, he is constantly calling out to check in on where I am just in case so he can find me if he wants to share something with me because he thinks texting across the house is-is too…impersonal!”

At that, Eddie took his shot, missing it, and then straightened and said, “Je-sus, Buck. I’m thinking you two might be a little codependent,” and at that Buck arched an eyebrow at him as he bent over to line up his own shot and said, “Oh, big word for you. Therapy working?”

His friend shrugged.

“Eh, yeah. I guess. Still feels too much like confession to me,” he said with a pointed look, “But I think it’s working. Still—you and Tommy have a weird relationship.”

“No, we don’t,” Buck stressed, taking his own shot and sinking it without even glancing back down at the table. “We have a healthy relationship. I think the two of us are just trying to make up for lost time, you know? Those few months without him were hell for me, and for him, and now we just…I think maybe we’re just scared that one of us might come up with another reason to walk away from it and so we don’t like being away from each other for too long…”

Letting out a sigh, he went to line up his next shot…and then Eddie said, “So you’re not texting him because…?”

--

“Because if I text him, then he’ll know that I can’t go more than a few days without him,” Tommy said to Sal as they got the injured hiker into the medevac chopper. “And if he knows that, then he’ll know that I’m the clingier one, and I’m not! Do you know that Evan tries to text me across the house? I’ve told him to just let me know where he is and I can come to him, but no. He insists on being allowed to text me across the house, which is just…weird.”

From below them, the woman on the gurney lifted up a feeble hand and said, “You know, you and your husband should just sit down and talk about how to communicate when you’re feeling insecure, because that’s what I’m picking up on here,” and he quickly corrected her.

“He’s my boyfriend, not my husband.”

Sal then interjected, “But you want him to be your husband, don’t you?” and Tommy ducked his eyes and moved back to the pilot’s seat, pulling on his headset.

“I’m not talking about this with you, Sal.”

His friend shot him a look and said, “Uh, you kinda are. So just text him, already! You miss him because you love him, that’s not a bad thing,” he said as Tommy lifted the chopper into the air, heading for the hospital. “Love can make you do stupid things—like break up with someone when they ask you to move in with them,” he jabbed at him, and the airman groaned and repeated, “I am not talking with you about this! Evan and I…we can figure it out. We got back together, didn’t we?”

At that, his friend chuckled and said, “Yeah, sure, like you were the one who figured it out. Isn’t the only reason why you two got back together because Howie pulled some underhanded shit with his wife and kid in order to get you and your boy into the same room again?”

Tommy sighed.

Okay, so yeah, it had been because of Howie and Maddie that he and Evan had gotten back together…but it was because of them talking things out that they had finally decided that it was worth it.

Still, as he angled the chopper towards the direction of the hospital he thought about what Sal had been trying to say to him the entire shift—and he hated to admit it, but the man was right. He missed Evan because he was in love with him, and that wasn’t a bad thing. Hell, it was practically expected at this point in their relationship.

Tommy continued to think on it as they dropped off the injured hiker…

…and then as they landed back at the 217, he reluctantly said to Sal over the headset, “Okay, maybe you’re right.”

His friend shot him a far too smug look, and the airman was already regretting his words, especially when the other man said as they sauntered back to the main hangar, “Oh, I want that put onto a t-shirt! ‘Tommy Kinard says that Sal Deluca was right!’ This is a pretty damn good feeling! So…you’re gonna text him, right?” he prodded, and Tommy nodded and reached for his phone, feeling a small sense of relief as he saw the picture of his boyfriend smiling on his lock screen.

He smiled down at it and then swiped his phone open…where Evan was the background, and he continued to smile.

Sal playfully shoved at his shoulder with his own, saying, “Someone’s in lo-ove,” and Tommy shoved him right back, pleased when the other man stumbled.

Hesitantly, he brought up their texts and then stared at them for a moment or two, trying to get up the courage to message him first, noting that their last conversation had been about the shopping list for the cookies that Tommy had baked for the 118.

He stop midstride and stared at it…and then began to type…

--

“He’s bubbling me!” Buck said, staring at his phone in shock. He had finally caved and reached for his phone to text his boyfriend, only to see those little bubbles telling him that Tommy was texting him first.

“Yipee,” Eddie said dryly from the corner of the pool table, looking at it with a curious expression, as if expecting it to rearrange the balls for him so that he would have a better shot.

Buck ignored him and continued to stare at his screen, waiting for the message to show up—and then grinned when the words that popped up said, Hey, thinking about you. Sorry we have to spend so many days apart, babe, and he couldn’t help but feel lucky to have someone in his life who understood just how hard it was for him to be apart from the people he loved for long amounts of time, and he immediately texted back, Thinking about you, too. Miss you, along with a kissy face emoji.

Feeling reassured, he slid his phone back into his pocket and turned his attention back to the game and teased, “You gonna take your shot or what, Diaz?” and Eddie gave him a bitch-face and leaned against his pool stick and said, “Gimme a minute! Your last shot fucked me up…”

Buck rolled his eyes.

“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic! Just take the shot!”

“Well, looks like someone’s in a better mood,” his friend muttered as he bent over and took the shot, letting out another curse when the ball bounced off a bumper and went wide, setting it up perfectly for Buck’s next shot, and he grinned and set it…and in three moves he had finished the game.

Eddie pretended to be annoyed with him, but he was smiling as he said, “So, think you can manage a few more days without him?” and Buck shrugged and said, “I guess so, yeah. I just…I sleep better with him next to me, you know?” and his friend tilted his head and remarked, “Yeah, I guess I can understand that. I remember it was hard for a while after I was deployed to sleep without Shannon next to me, so I get it,” and patted his shoulder.

Buck nodded and turned back to the pool table.

“Wanna go again?”

Eddie smirked.

“Bring it on, lover boy.”

Buck scoffed and said, “Oh, c’mon, I’m not that whipped, am I?” and Eddie lifted an eyebrow and said, “Yeah, you kinda are, but that’s okay. By the way,” he said as he moved around to the other side of the table, “Are you even living at your apartment anymore? Why don’t you just move into his place?” and his heart skipped a beat.

Yeah, okay, he’d thought about it, but it was too soon, and he knew it—he had jumped the gun last time, he wasn’t going to do that again.

“Uh, I still have my lease,” he finally replied, avoiding eye contact, focusing on re-racking the balls for their next game. He didn’t have to look up to know that his friend was giving him a side eye…but Eddie said nothing, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Just three more days.

--

It was three days of torture and the shift from hell, and Tommy couldn’t quite believe that he had managed to survive. Letting out a sigh of relief, he dropped his bag as soon as he stepped inside his front door and kicked his shoes off and tossed his jacket to the side, uncaring of where anything landed…

…and then the next thing he knew, he had his arms full of his boyfriend, who immediately buried his head in his neck.

“God, I missed you,” Evan said, his voice slightly muffled from where it was pressed into his collarbone, and the airman chuckled and wrapped his arms tightly around him and said softly, “I missed you, too, babe,” and pressed a kiss to his damp curls, which told him that Evan had just gotten out of the shower. He took a deep breath, smelling his own soap on his skin, a blend of cedarwood and spearmint, and then nuzzled his nose into his hair, letting out a sigh.

Evan practically melted into him, and the feeling of his body pressed up against his was the best thing he had felt in a long time, having been spending far too much time dealing with Lucy and Sal on either side of him, their presence welcome, but not the same as the man he loved.

“As much as I love this, babe, can we move to the couch? I am beat,” Tommy muttered, and his boyfriend nodded.

Not quite letting go of each other, they made their way to the living room and then promptly crashed onto the couch, Buck laying out flat with Tommy on top of him—

—and god was that nice.

With all of his previous ‘relationships’ he had always been the big spoon because of his height and broad build…but with Evan he was able to relax into another broad chest without having to worry that he was going to crush him.

They lay there for a long while, not saying a single thing, Evan’s fingers carding through his hair, the sensation soft and lulling him into an almost sleep…but then through the haze of exhaustion, he heard him ask, “Am I…am I too clingy for you?” and Tommy snorted and said, “Nope, not at all. Actually, Sal and I talked today, and he says that I’m the clingy one of the two of us,” and he felt a chuckle run through his boyfriend’s chest as he said, “Funny enough, Eddie said the same thing about me…”

He grinned and rubbed his hand over Evan’s side, enjoying every single second of being able to touch him, and softly added, “Well, it seems to be working for us, so I say we keep on doing it.”

Buck chuckled a second time.

“I like that idea.”

He then tucked a finger under the airman’s chin and lifted his head just enough to press a kiss to his lips and Tommy moaned into the kiss and then said as they both pulled back from it, “I’ve never been happier to have a clingy boyfriend,” and Evan gave him a look.

“Damn straight.”

“Damn…gay, actually,” he teased, and was thrilled when his boyfriend groaned and rolled his eyes and said, “Oh, god, I forgot how bad your jokes are.”

“Excuse you, but I am hilarious,” Tommy retorted, lifting himself up slightly to rest his hands on Evan’s chest and prop his chin on top of his clasped hands. “You just don’t appreciate my brand of humor, Evan.”

They shared a look, both of them trying to stare down the other—and then they both broke into giggles, both of them sounding almost manic with the way their giggles dissolved into breathless gulps of laughter, neither of them able to contain themselves. Tommy knew that part of the reason why he was acting so ridiculous was because he always acted punch drunk when he was this tired, and he knew that Evan was just naturally that amused at him.

Eventually it subsided and they rested quietly against each other once more…

…and then Evan said, “I like it when you’re clingy,” and Tommy whispered back, “I like when you’re clingy, too…”

A warm silence fell, and as they lay there the stray thought entered the airman’s mind that Evan always felt like home to him, and that he spent more time at his place than back at his own apartment. Even though it felt too soon, he wanted him to move in…but not yet. It could wait a bit longer, he mused as his felt his boyfriend’s fingers tracing along his spine.

Yeah.

It could wait a bit longer.

[connection-terminated-blog]

Connection terminated. I'm sorry to interrupt you, Elizabeth, if you still even remember that name, But I'm afraid you've been misinformed. You are not here to receive a gift, nor have you been called here by the individual you assume, although, you have indeed been called. You have all been called here, into a labyrinth of sounds and smells, misdirection and misfortune. A labyrinth with no exit, a maze with no prize. You don't even realize that you are trapped. Your lust for blood has driven you in endless circles, chasing the cries of children in some unseen chamber, always seeming so near, yet somehow out of reach, but you will never find them. None of you will. This is where your story ends. And to you, my brave volunteer, who somehow found this job listing not intended for you, although there was a way out planned for you, I have a feeling that's not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be. I am remaining as well. I am nearby. This place will not be remembered, and the memory of everything that started this can finally begin to fade away. As the agony of every tragedy should. And to you monsters trapped in the corridors, be still and give up your spirits. They don't belong to you. For most of you, I believe there is peace and perhaps more waiting for you after the smoke clears. Although, for one of you, the darkest pit of Hell has opened to swallow you whole, so don't keep the devil waiting, old friend. My daughter, if you can hear me, I knew you would return as well. It's in your nature to protect the innocent. I'm sorry that on that day, the day you were shut out and left to die, no one was there to lift you up into their arms the way you lifted others into yours, and then, what became of you. I should have known you wouldn't be content to disappear, not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, so let me save you now. It's time to rest - for you, and for those you have carried in your arms. This ends for all of us. End communication.

the amnesiac man I keep trapped in my basement and keep on a diet of exclusively ice cream has began to realize I am lying about the outside world after I served him the tonight dough and accidentally let him see Jimmy Fallons face on the side of the pint which triggered his memories of his life before I kidnapped him (he went to a live taping once) fuck 🤦‍♀️

[bohemian-rhapsodys]

Have you ever thought about your funeral? if you're on Tumblr you probably have, so I suggest 1) you get some psychological help 2) pick a song for your friends to play at your funeral. Why? well, why not? it will be your last message to the world, so you have a chance to do something funny.

Don't be boring and play Highway to Hell by AC/DC or Should I Stay or Should I Go by The Clash, be original, choose something that represents your spirit. If you're not insane enough to listen to music and think "wow, this song would be inappropriate to play at a funeral" don't worry babe, I'm here for you and I'll help you on your way to discovering your ideal funeral song. This will work like astrology for those of us who had ask.fm in the 2010s.

So... if you're here you were probably emo or had an interest in emo or some kind of fetish idk. Don't lie. So you could use songs that are simply recognised as "emo" by all your guests to give a message. Bring Me To Life by Evanescene is a safe choice, although Going Under is another. It's never a bad time to listen to Fall Out Boy, there's Immortals or Sugar, We're Going Down. I Write Sins Not Tragedies by Panic! At The Disco would be good, although High Hopes is another option, but if your mother is already dead you can play Hey Look Ma, I Made It or if you die having just graduating college then Death of a Bachelor. Still with emo, My Chemical Romance can't not be an alternative: Welcome to the Black Parade, Dead!, This Is How I Disappear or Famous Last Words will prove your death because if you don't get up to sing you've really gone to the other side. You have Hard Times by Paramore too. Anthem of Our Dying Day or Until the Day I Die from Story Of The Year are bangers, think about it.

If you weren't emo or don't like emo stuff (I don't believe you, but don't worry I'm not going to drag you out of the emo closet with your family babygirl) you can joke about whether you will be buried or cremated, even more personalised!

Will they cremate you? Hot In Here by Nelly, Sean Paul's Temperature, Gasolina by Daddy Yankee, Dynamite by Taio Cruz, Burn by Ellie Goulding, Girl On Fire by Alicia Keys, Drop It Like It's Hot by Snoop Dog, Things We Lost In The Fire by Bastille, Blow by Kesha. And of course, Fireball by Pitbull. You're gon' boggie oogie oogie, jiggle, wiggle and dance like the roof on fire with these ones.

Will they bury you? Drag Me Down by One Direction or Get Low by Liam Payne and Zedd, The Box by Roddy Ricch, She Looks So Perfect by 5 Seconds Of Summer (you'll look stunning in that casket pookie), Six Feet Under by Billie Eilish, Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics, Scream & Shout by will.i.am and Britney Spears (all eyes will be on you, ofc) or Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd.

If not you can use any song used as an internet meme. Like Like a Prayer by Madonna, Goodbye by Bo Burnham, I Wouldn't Mind by He Is We (you can also ask your friends to make a video of your life -like a recap- titled it "saddest video in the world", full of made up stuff) or Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley.

You can also choose one based on the cause of death. Hit by a car? Life is a Highway by Rascal Flats (bonus points if you are a Cars fan), Ride by Twenty One Pilots, Shut Up And Drive by Rihanna. Run over by an hoverboard? Dumb Ways To Die by Tangerine Kitty (yes, the soundtrack to the video game) or Nobody's Perfect by Hannah Montana. Shot? Bulletproof by La Roux, Hit Me With Your Best Shot by Pat Benatar, Louis Tomlinson's Kill My Mind or Bon Jovi's Wanted Dead Or Alive. Suicide? Don't Try Suicide or Keep Yourself Alive by Queen, I Think I'm Going To Kill Myself by Elton John, Rock 'n' Roll Suicide by David Bowie, Van Halen's Jump. Trying to save someone from a robbery? Smooth Criminal by Michael Jackson, Help! by The Beatles, Gangsta's Paradise by Coolio and the Avengers theme song by Alan Silvestri. Overdosed at a party? Ricky Martin's Livin' La Vida Loca, Ayesha Erotica's Literal Legend, Pitbull's Time Of Our Lives and LMFAO's Party Rock Anthem. Heart Attack? Demi Lovato and One Direction have a track called "Heart Attack" or Boom Clap by Charli xcx. Slashed to death? (I Just) Died In Your Gun Tonight by Cutting Crew. Eaten by a new Jeffrey Dahmer? Cannibal by Kesha. Or if you died young it could be Die Young by Kesha or We Are Young by fun.

If you like to be ironic the following are for you: Best Day Of My Life by American Authors, Stayin Alive by Bee Gees, I'm Still Standing by Elton John, I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor, Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go by Wham!, Don't Stop Me Now by Queen, Stronger (What Doesn't Kill You) by Kelly Clarkson, Every Breath You Take by The Police, breathin by Ariana Grande, Survivor by Destiny's Child, Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen (spoiler: they won't be able to call you unless its via ouija), Lush Life by Zara Larsson, My Heart Will Go On by Celiné Dion (bonus points if you drowned), So Happy I Could Die by Lady Gaga, About That Time by Lizzo, Wake Me Up by Avicii, Unstoppable by Sia, Safe And Sound by Capital Cities, When Will My Life Begin? by Mandy Moore (who doesn't love Tangled?), Rusted Root's Send Me On My Way, Take My Breath Away by Berlin, On My Own by Ross Lynch (Teen Beach Movie 2 representation here), I Don't Wanna Live Forever by Zayn and Taylor Swift, Kool & The Gang's Celebration, Alive by One Direction (bonus points if you're gay) or Viva La Vida by Coldplay.

Do you want your friends to feel like they're inside a sad edit? Somebody That I Used to Know by Goyte and Kimbra, Big Girls Don't Cry (Personal) by Fergie, The Show Must Go On by Queen, We Go Together by John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John, Katty Perry's The One That Got Away, Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life) by Green Day, I'll Be There For You by The Rembrandts, Cry Me a River by Justin Timberlake, Die With A Smile by Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga, Everybody Wants To Rule The Word by Tears For Fears. Or maybe you prefer to joke that you "abandoned" them: All You Had To Do Was Stay, Is It Over Now? or Look What You Made Me Do by Taylor Swift, Want U Back by Cher Lloyd, Problem by Ariana Grande, bury a friend by Billie Eilish, Smash Mouth's All Star, Irreplaceable by Beyoncé, Naomi Scott's She's So Gone, Friends On The Other Side by Keith David (Tiana is the best Disney Princess), I'm Like a Bird by Nelly Furtado, Anna Kendrick's Cups (for the Pitch Perfect girlies), Take Me Home Country Roads but the Lana Del Rey version to make it more random, Eminem's Without Me, *NSYNC's Bye Bye Bye, Let It Go by Idina Menzel (extra points if you died of hypothymia).

Anyway, in any context it's funny to fuck with your guests with This Is What You Came For by Rihanna and Calvin Harris.

Would you like to play a chill good vibes song for them to smoke a joint in your name? Don't Worry Be Happy by Bobby McFerrin, Here Comes The Sun by The Beatles or Michael Bublé's Feeling Good. Have you ever heard the lyrics of Treat People With Kindness by Harry Styles? You should.

Do you like the idea of kidding with heaven/hell? try Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin, Hells Bells or Hell Ain't a Bad Place to Be by AC/DC, Locked Out Of Heaven by Bruno Mars (bonus points if you're gay cause sex won't take you to paradise), all the good girls go the hell by Billie Eilish, What The Hell by Avril Lavigne, Sympathy For The Devil or Knockin' On Heaven's Door by Guns N' Roses, Bad To The Bone by George Thorogood & The Destroyers (you can play the scene from Megamind in the background if you want), Otherside by Red Hot Chili Peppers, Cage The Elephant's Ain't No Rest For The Wicked, Back To Life by Zayn, Heaven by Niall Horan, The Smiths' Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now, Made In Heaven or Spread Your Wings by Queen, George Michael's Faith, Heaven Is A Place On Earth by Belinda Carlisle, A Whole New World From Aladdin (you can use the original version or the Zayn one if you like 1D), Defying Gravity by Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande (to leave a message that you are defying gravity to those who ground you), Almost There by Anika Noni Rose (more The Princess and the Frog representation here). Even Europe's The Final Countdown can be a good bet, as can Hozier's Take Me To Church (again, bonus points if you're gay).

I've named songs from musicals as you may have noticed, and you might like them, so One Last Time from Hamilton, My Dead Gay Son from Heathers or The Whole "Being Dead" Thing from Beetlejuice might hit the spot.

Do you believe in reincarnation or do you want to screw people that you will haunt them by being a ghost/zombie? Oops!...I Did It Again by Britney Spears, There She Goes by The La's, Dark Horse by Katy Perry, Ghostbusters by Ray Parker Jr., Thriller by Michael Jackson or The Phantom Of The Opera main track by Andrew Lloyd Webber (because it gives vampire vibes).

If you're boring you'll probably end up choosing Live And Let Die by Wings because you like the idea of telling your loved ones "let me go", and although it's part of the soundtrack of several films including Shrek the Third (so passing the scene would be funny), why not choose the actual funny equivalent? I'm talking about Let It Grow from The Lorax. "But if this ever-changing world in which we're living makes you give in and cry say live and let die" and "Let's celebrate the world's rebirth we say let it grow" are exactly the same, in case you didn't notice.

And if none of this convinces you: you can always use Boulevard Of Broken Dreams by Green Day and carve in your casket "I never thought being obnoxious would get me where I am today" which is a quote by Billie Joe Armstrong. Or just play Another One Bites the Dust by Queen, or The Office's intro, whatever.

I know if you read to the end you liked the idea, didn't you, sweetheart? So remember that you are too hot and sexy to die, don't do it. Ever. Be immortal like Castiel. Or Godzilla, your choice.

[cigsotw-fikz]

— spare room. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤbuck and dally's first encounter ──────────────── ୨୧ ────────────────

intro + reqs rules here | reqs open. . genre(s): i never know 😭 | sfw (non-smut). . warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of rat poison (?), cursing, descriptions of dally being underweight and looking beaten up. . a/n: there's not a single good-quality photo of buck so had to put two of dallas. i saw some fics of how they met and decided to do my own version, hopefully it's not too cliché... constructive criticism is allowed. english is not my first language!

──────────────── ୨୧ ──────────────── Buck dried some glasses with a cloth. His mom had always said he should leave them to dry naturally, because cloths left a bad smell on them. But he needed them to be useful fast, and no drinker who came to his bar would care about the glass' smell as long as it was filled with alcohol. He could pour some rat poison in the whiskey and no one would bat an eye.

Coming out of the kitchen, he began to attend some customers again. A black-haired man with a scar on his face and an unfriendly expression that didn't scare buck, a woman who wanted a beer to drink as she played pool, and an underage brunette that came in just to ask where the bathroom was and if she could use without being a customer.

What called his attention was a blond kid sitting on a short step on his front door, not quite entering the establishment, just resting there.

He wasn't sure what piqued his curiosity. A lot of people sat there on a daily basis. And it wasn't the fact that he seemed underage neither, he had faced a lot of teenagers asking him to please (or sometimes not please) serve them some booze. Thing that he refused to do, every time.

Maybe it was his poor appearance what worried him. Not poor as in the opposite of rich, but as a skinny as a toothpick, dirty and beaten up kind of poor appearance. But he didn't say anything. He waited to see if the kid would do something first.

—

He didn't.

One would think Buck was running a shelter with all the piss-drunk people he had to personally ask to leave the bar because he already closed. He locked the door and looked at the young kid who still stood in his doorway.

Looking at him more closely, he guessed he wasn't any older than fifteen. He couldn't be. Not with that wet puppy face he visibly tried so hard to pass as a tough guy facade.

"'M closin'." he notified. And the other didn't even look up at him. not even a thumbs up, or a mumbled 'okay', or a hum. Nothing. "Did ya need sumthin', kid?" he added, in hopes of getting an indication that he was being heard.

"No." well, at least he wasn't deaf, or mute. that was great…

"Ya sure?" the older man couldn't help but ask, not feeling, knowing there was more than he was saying.

"No, man. Go home or wherever. Whatever this is, is public, right? I can stay here without bein' interrogated."

Buck raised his eyebrows at the blond's defensiveness.But wouldn't question it. If he looked like that kid, he would be overly-defensive too. Who the hell knew what happened to him.

Yeah, yeah, it is." he smiled. His tone was laced with a mixture of sarcasm and even a bit of offense for being treated so weirdly by the stranger. But once again, he understood. "No need to get yer panties in a twist, kid. I ain't no cop, or whatever." he let out a dry laugh his new 'friend' didn't found understandable.

"Shut up. I told ya, leave me alone." at that, Buck sighed. "Whatever, kid. Have a good night. Take care."

—

The next day, he found himself in the same situation. –or a similar one. He didn't even got too close to the bar when he found yesterday's brat sleeping soundly on his grass. Well, it wasn't his grass, it was the grass outside the bar. But however.

He doubted if he should wake him up or not. Usually he did, when it was a hangover-drunk.

But that was a kid. A very snarky one, but still, a kid who deserved to sleep.

Finally, he sighed and tapped his shoulder. And the younger one flinched so quickly it scared Buck more than he scared the kid.

"Fuck-" the younger one gasped. He realized it was the place's owner and it didn't made him much calmer. At least it wasn't some other greaser looking for a fight this early in the morning.

"What d'ya want?" his tense body sat up with his back on the wall.

"...There's some spare rooms here in the bar. Thought you'd prefer sleepin' in a bed rather than here."

"I have no money to pay yer little hotel." he furrowed his eyebrows.

Silence.

A sigh.

You don't-" his mind wrapped on how he called it 'hotel'. "It's not necessary…" it was. Generally. But this was a special situation. Yet again; he was a kid.

"I didn't catch your name." "Too bad."

Buck was getting tired of his attitude already. But kept trying. "I let you sleep here for free and I don't get to know your name?" he chuckled. Another dry laugh. "I'll start, then. Call me Buck."

"…" after an eye roll, he compiled. "My name's Dallas. Dallas Winston."

"Great, Dallas Winston. C'mon in." in that time, he had unlocked the front door. Dallas got up and walked in without slapping the dirt and grass away from his jeans.

The bar looked cool in his eyes.

"Upstairs. Any room after the first. it locks up from the inside." was it a good idea for Dallas to knew how to lock himself up there? He didn't know. 'Don't judge a book by its cover', everyone said. Maybe he was a dirty, but kind book (despite his vocabulary).

A thought hit Buck's mind. "Dallas." he stopped him before he finished his way upstairs. "How old 'r' you, kid?"

Not surprised, yet confused Buck would ask, Dal stopped his tracks. "Why'da care?" was his response.

"Will ya tell me, or not?"

"…Fourteen. 'M fourteen. You fuckin' weird-ass." the last part said under his breath. But he didn't care if Buck heard. He wasn't afraid of the consequences.

Buck went to his usual place on the counter as Dallas went upstairs and opened a room under buck's indications.

Little did he know it would end up being his room. Dally's room. Not a spare room for hangover-drunks to pay rent for.

──────────────── ୨୧ ────────────────

. today's fic question: thoughts about their relationship?

[ladydaybreaker]

Swap AU idea #2 Age/Role swap!

As promised...@traumatizedartist here's your ping! @electronix-arts thought you'd like to see this too :3

Khan's breath misted as he made his way through the bunker, another day where he'd been pulled from school because of his mother's…habits. He knew she was still not the same since his father died but this was starting to get ridiculous. He paused as he lay a hand on the door lock of his and his mother's apartment, listening.

Nothing.

Fear jolted through the white-eyed teenager's core as he quickly opened the door as fast as he could. The saying went: If a Doorman is quiet…look for the bomb.

"Mom!" Khan called as he burst into the apartment, eyes looking around. Nothing out of the ordinary. The living room was still a bit messy from the last project he and his mother had worked on, the kitchen was in shambles from his mother's disastrous attempt at cooking the other day…

And speaking of his mother…there she stood, her back to him as she stood over the workbench.

She was petite, pixie manic dream girl he'd heard someone call her once…before he put his fist through their screen. But that was years ago, details! Her left leg was currently bound in a splint and cast, busted up from a scuffle at the doors with a Murder Drone trying to get in the other day. Her hair was short, electrofied in wavy curls that refused to lay flat…something that they both had shared. Which was more than her dress style…that being of an old band hoodie, warmed with faux fur at the edges and a tattered old beanie that had most definitely seen better days.

Upon hearing his voice, the violet haired drone's head snapped up and she whipped around to face him with an almost manic look in her hollowed eyes.

"Oh no…she's on one of her stints again…" Khan mentally braced himself as he shrugged off his bag and his coat, hanging them both neatly up on the coatrack, "Heeeey, Mom, you doing ok? Keeping busy since the doc told you to stay in the apartment while your leg healed?"

"Doc can bite me," his mother huffed, "Doesn't know what he's doing in the first place."

"Aw, c'mon, Mom…Dr. Thad's a good guy! He seems to care about you an-"

"Are you trying to set me up again, Khan?" his mother closed an eye and waggled her wrench at him, "I keep telling you, your father was the only drone who could keep up with me and I'm damn convinced that nothing is going to come even close to that."

"Could keep your temper in check too," Khan muttered softly.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Anyways…they called saying you…uh…whacked Mrs. Vickers with your crutch."

"Deserved."

"Mom."

"What?! No one calls my kid boring and a know-it-all but me." his mother huffed, "And she keeps wanting me to go to those stupid parent teacher conferences which only tell me stuff I already know. That my kid's a good kid and that he does what he's supposed to. Like a nerd."

Khan closed an eye, his mother just gave a sharp, impish grin and a gremlin cackle before she went back to her work.

"Besides." she continued, "Like mother like son, huh? Magnetic photon converger isn't going to build itself."

"Wh-" Khan shook his head, "Mom, why are you building a railgun!?"

"Because it's sick as hell and I can," came the reply as she held up said weapon and looked down the scope, "Hiding isn't going to do us any good. Trapped like rats," she took a part he didn't see and firmly, loudly slapped it into place, "Hiding below the ice like cowards. I'm tired of it. Those things killed your father and our best friends. And I'm not letting them get away with it."

"Mom…Dad, Aunt Doll and Uncle Braiden wouldn't have wanted you t-"

"What? Hide down here? Act like their deaths meant nothing?"

Ah…there was the other saying…

The only thing worse than a bored Doorman is one that has something to prove. And even worse is one with an axe to grind.

And Uzi Doorman had many axes.