#honestly ive been getting better at angst

[nereidprinc3ss]

hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸

uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗

hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!

warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending

You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind. 

“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup. 

“Please, stop apologizing.” 

You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses. 

“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...” 

You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy. 

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.” 

“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.” 

“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.” 

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.  

“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?” 

A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks. 

“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.” 

You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.  

“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.” 

An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat. 

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.” 

“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.” 

When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically. 

“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box. 

You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap. 

Says Spencer Reid? 

“...sorry?” 

He flushes, stammering to clarify himself. 

“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”  

“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.” 

He swallows and nods. 

“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.  

“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.” 

More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.” 

“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.” 

But you're not crying because he was nice.  

Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear. 

His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks. 

“I meant every word.” 

You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say. 

“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.” 

Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending. 

“Had?” 

The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart. 

“Yeah. You know what changed?” 

“What’s that?” 

Absolutely nothing. 

“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.” 

Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes. 

“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?” 

“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.” 

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?” 

You sniff, looking to the ceiling. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.” 

More silence. 

“But you don’t believe it.” 

A bitter laugh poisons the air around you. 

“I don’t know.  I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.” 

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head. 

“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?” 

“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.  

You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him. 

“What?” 

His voice shakes slightly as he speaks. 

“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.” 

“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.” 

“That’s... that’s not how I know.” 

Your heart drops as you study his face.  

No. 

Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying. 

Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be. 

You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.” 

“What are you doing? Don’t--” 

You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks. 

“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—” 

A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks 

“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?” 

With nothing left to give, you turn to him. 

“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.” 

He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks. 

“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.” 

Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible. 

“You... you like me?” 

“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—” 

Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.

And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—” 

You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.

“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.” 

“You said you used to like me, past tense—” 

“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?” 

“No, but—” 

“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?” 

“Of course I have.” 

“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?” 

Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.  

Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks. 

“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.” 

“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is. 

Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face. 

“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.” 

A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes. 

“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.” 

“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine. 

“I do.” 

“Will you kiss me?” 

“If that’s what you want.” 

You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway. 

When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.

To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to. 

“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?” 

A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing. 

“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.” 

“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again. 

------------------------------------------ 

epilogue

Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought. 

“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes. 

“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!” 

“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.” 

“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.” 

“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.” 

Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention. 

“Spencer?” 

He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought. 

“What does pulchritude mean?” 

It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

And so you let it float away. 

[sugoi-and-spice]

For the first time in his life, Tomura Shigaraki has full control of his quirk. With this newfound freedom, there is so much that he wants to do. And it just so happens that you are at the very top of that list.

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x GN!Reader

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

Contains: GN!Pronouns, Smut, Soft Shigaraki, Penetrative Sex (Reader Receiving), Oral Sex (Reader Recieving), Pre-Paranormal Liberation War, Post-PLF Manga Spoilers tho, Established Relationship, Alcohol, Massage, League Shenanigans. (Honestly, no crazy CW's with this one lol. It's just fluff and smut and angst lol)

Notes: I tried to write something wholesome to try and heal our mourning Shig-simp hearts... It had mixed results lol.

AO3 Link

Like my work? Please consider commissioning me or contributing to my Ko-Fi!

That seemed a little too easy.

It’s the first thought that crossed Shigaraki’s mind when he came to on the Doctor’s operating table. Don’t get him wrong, the time Ujiko had spent vivisecting him from finger to finger had been hell on earth, but it seemed to go by a little too quickly for four months. 

“That’s because it’s only been a week,” Ujiko explained as he approached Shigaraki with a paper cup of water — an absolutely pathetic offering considering the world of pain the man had just mercilessly put him through.

But Shigaraki took it anyway.

“Didn’t realize that there were going to be breaks,” he said before knocking back the cup in one gulp.

“Once we begin the transference of All for One, there won’t be,” Ujiko explained, “What I was working on this time, was completing your quirk.”

Shigaraki’s brows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

Ujiko chuckled, gesturing to the paper cup in the new leader’s hands, “Why don’t you try putting your pinky down?”

He shot the doctor a confused look, not sure what exactly that would accomplish other than sparing him a trip to the trash can. But upon Ujiko’s nod of reassurance, he looked back down at the cup, bringing his raised finger down on its crease experimentally.

Shigaraki’s eyes widened immediately.

The cup was still in his hand.

It didn’t turn to dust. Didn’t even crumble or sport a single crack. He touched it with all five fingers and yet it stood with as much integrity as the steel IV pole next to him. 

He snapped to the doctor, something unreadable in his voice, “Is… Is decay gone?”

“No, no of course not. I’d never purge you of such a powerful quirk,” Ujiko assured, “You just have control over it now.”

Shigaraki willed decay to activate, testing Ujiko’s explanation, and in an instant, the cup dissolved under his touch, just like he was used to. 

He stared at his hand in disbelief, the dust falling through his fingers. He couldn’t believe this…

“And it’s not just turning it on or off, all or nothing,” Ujiko continued, “You can stop the spread of decay at certain points, activate it with just one finger — you have full control.”

Shigaraki snapped to Ujiko, intensely. Desperate. Maybe he should’ve been doing a better job of maintaining his poker face like Sensei would’ve, to try and hide the way this was affecting him. But he just couldn’t. Not now. Not when something he’d longed for so badly, so primally was so close to his grasp.

“Are you sure?”

Ujiko didn’t seem to take notice of this lapse of control however. Or at least, he didn’t care. His bushy mustache just raised with a small smile and pride in his work.

“Quite sure.”

 Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed. He was not fucking around here, “ How sure?”

Ujiko’s smile shifted slightly, a challenging smirk pulling at the corners as he offered his own hand as fodder.

Shigaraki slapped his fingers fully atop the back of Daruma’s fat hand, letting the full extent of his anger and emotions drive him. He wanted to test this fully, test that even in fits of passion, he wouldn’t lose control.

And he didn’t.

Daruma Ujiko stood just as whole and living in front of him as the moments before. The only change was the chuckle of satisfaction that Shigaraki’s dumbfounded expression brought him.

“Pretty neat, huh?” Daruma said, turning back to start pulling out equipment for the next phase of experimentation, large hulking tubes and wires that looked more akin to HVAC parts than real medical equipment.

Neat wasn’t exactly the phrase Shigaraki would use. But he didn’t really care anymore. 

He had shit to do.

“Now, regarding the next steps in your transformation—”

The EKG machine behind him beeped loudly and suddenly, signaling that it had been disconnected. Ujiko turned back to Shigaraki curiously, watching as he pulled off the various electrode pads scattered across his chest and back.

“You don’t want to get started?”

“Tomorrow,” Shigaraki answered, ripping the IV from his wrist as he hopped off the table.

“But what about the power? Your dreams?” Ujiko pressed, something strained, irritated starting to form in his voice, “I would think that these are all things you’d want without delay.”

“I do. But achieving them one day later won’t kill me. And I have some shit to take care of before I grind for four months.”

Ujiko clicked his tongue, clearly unsatisfied with this new development. 

He knew exactly what Shigaraki had to go take care of. And he didn’t like it. Didn’t like you . He’d never liked you in fact. You asked too many questions. Had too many suspicions…

But Shigaraki didn’t care about the doctor’s disapproval, simply turned to him after slapping a bandage over his free-flowing wrist and commanded, “Warp me back to the villa.”

This clearly wasn’t up for discussion. Ujiko could’ve protested, sure, but at the end of the day it wouldn’t have mattered. Shigaraki wasn’t a kid anymore, far from it. He’d taken the mantle of true leader by force, and held his head high with the confidence that accomplishment deserved. If he wanted to do something, he was going to do it. The risk of upsetting the doctor or even his master was not a concern anymore. It barely ever had been.

So in the end Ujiko just sighed and turned to his obedient servant sitting patiently in the corner, “Johnny.”

Shigaraki didn’t so much as flinch as the warp came spewing out of his mouth. In fact, a rare sheen of childlike joy took over his features instead. Daruma noted this with a shaking head as he warped away. Oh well. If Shigaraki wanted one last night with his companions, with his little distraction , who was Ujiko to get in the way?

This was the last night he’d have control over his own body after all. Might as well let him enjoy it.

“Robber!” you cheered victoriously, pumping your fist over the seven you rolled.

“Noooo, not again!!” Toga cried out.

You grabbed the little gray token off the board, twirling it around tauntingly as you hum, “Hmmm, and where should I put him? I wonder…”

Spinner glared at you from across the board, “If you put it on my wheat field one more time—”

“Great idea Spinner!” you mock-gasped, already well aware of where you were planning to put it, and slap the Robber down in the center of Spinner’s monopolized wheat hex. 

“Great move! Cheap shot! ” Twice, the last player of the group, piped in.

“ Damn it !” Spinner punched his fist down on the table, shaking the drinks surrounding the board precariously.

“Oi, oi careful there!” you said, grabbing your glass of wine protectively, “If you party foul, you lose a turn.”

Spinner just grumbled irritably, grabbing his own beer and knocking it back to try and quell some of his frustration. You giggled at the sight. It would be easy to assume that Shigaraki was the most competitive and aggressive game player out of the League, but he actually managed to keep his cool during sessions most of the time. No, it was undeniably Spinner that was the most uncontrollably competitive, and it never failed to make you smile.

Even as the thought of Shigaraki threatened your demeanor with a frown.

You shook out the thought, because of course, you had another certain player to focus on. And you turned to her pointedly.

“Alright Toga, half your hand, let’s go.”

She gasped, “Whaaaat? What are you talking about!? I only have six cards!”

“That’s because two of them are sticking out of your sweater.”

Toga looked down to her sleeve, where indeed the corners of two resource cards were poking out rebelliously.

She snapped back to Compress in offense, who sat on the couch behind her, observing the game amusedly with his own glass of wine in hand, “Atsuhiro! You said that trick would work!”

“I’m sorry my dear,” he shrugged his hands tragically, “But it seems your sleight of hand needs a bit more work.”

Toga groaned, pulling her cards out of her sleeve and looking over which ones she wanted to discard with a pout.

Crushing his finished beer in his hand, Spinner turned back to Dabi who sat across the room, as far from the game as possible, and pretending not to watch it all, like he wsn’t invested in a single thing in this room. Not at all.

“Oi Dabi, can you grab me a beer?”

“You’ve got legs, get it yourself.”

“But the fridge is right freaking next to you!” Spinner shouted, pointing at the minifridge that actually, was not only right next to Dabi, but that he was currently resting his feet on top of.

But Dabi was a son of a bitch. So rather than even giving him an answer, he just crossed his feet over the fridge, making himself more comfortable.

“God, seriously ?!”

Shigaraki watched this all from the doorway with a whisper of a smile on his face. He’d stopped by his bedroom at the villa to grab a button down and even considered grabbing a quick shower while he was at it before coming here — the griminess of a week of experimentation sticking to him thickly. But ultimately he’d been too eager to see his comrades.

Yet, once he got to the doorway that the familiar rowdy laughter of his League led him to, he couldn’t help but just stop and take in the moment. It was nice to see them all so comfortable and content after months of chaos and vagrancy. And it was a look that especially suited you.

While you’d never been particularly materialistic or image-obsessed (if your decision to be with him didn’t make that obvious), you certainly also weren’t one to turn down the finer things in life when offered. And clearly here, you’d been offered, given the cashmere sweater and expensive bottle of wine you were currently enjoying. The regular access to showers and brand name moisturizers and cosmetics certainly weren’t hurting you either. Your skin was clearer and more glowing than he’d seen in months. You’d even seemed to have some time to style your hair today.

And of course there was your laugh. That big, uninhibited laugh that you only let out when you were truly comfortable. In general you were a pretty pragmatic person. It’s one of the things he’d always appreciated about you, particularly when surrounded by this circus that he calls a villain group. 

You approached new situations skeptically and took most things seriously. It’s not like you had no sense of humor, quite the opposite actually. But you also were very aware that there was a time and place for everything. When the pressure was high, laughter was nowhere to be found. And it had certainly been nowhere to be found for a while now.

So it went without saying that seeing you like this now, laughing over a game board, cheeks tinged slightly-red from the wine, completely taken care of and without a care in the world…

It was quite the sight for sore eyes.

“Shigaraki?”

He blinked and looked back to Spinner who, in standing to go grab a beer from the fridge, had turned and spotted him in the doorway.

“Tomura!” Toga squealed excitedly, jumping up out of her seat with Twice to join Spinner in barraging him in the doorway.

“What’re you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be leveling up with the Doc?” Spinner asked.

“Got a night off,” he answered simply.

“That’s awesome boss! Who needs ya?! ”

He turned to look past the three as you approached behind them, much calmer than the others, as usual. But that didn’t mean you weren’t just as thrilled to have him here. The adoration in your eyes was clear from across the room and it warmed him up in a way that he’d learned to really enjoy.

“It’s good to see you,” you said, simple and sweet. There was clearly so much more behind those words, but you knew how Shigaraki felt about doing shit like that in front of people, so you kept it subtle.

Apparently the caution was unnecessary though, as Shigaraki seemed to have lost his own patience for pretense. Even if it made his next words the spark that set off a firework show of “ooo’s” and teasing from resident forever teenagers, Toga and Twice.

“Yeah…” he breathed, “...Can we talk? Alone?”

It was all you could do to sit down on his bed when he told you.

“Full control?” you repeated in disbelief.

“Full control.”

You smiled, so genuinely, eyes starting to shine. You weren't even thinking about what this meant for the two of you yet, you were just happy for him, for the peace he could now live with. The burden that had eased.

“That… That’s amazing Tomura…”

Shigaraki stared down at you, a lump of nerves settling in his gut. He wasn’t affected by things like nerves or apprehension very much anymore — barely ever was in the first place, and especially not now that he had all the confidence and authority of a “Supreme Leader”. But he couldn’t keep those feelings from surfacing in that moment, couldn’t shake the image in his mind of things going terribly wrong. 

Of you crumbling into a pile of dust and viscera in front of him.

He swallowed down those fears though, and started to reach out a shaky hand, “Can… Can I…?”

Whatever apprehension he felt, you obviously didn’t share. You shot out a hand immediately, without hesitation. With complete trust in his word. In him.

His trembling palm pressed against your own firm one, fingers still raised taught and high on instinct, careful not to make contact. You slotted your fingers through his own, bringing them down to hold his hand with none of that same carefulness. His knee-jerk reaction was to scold you for being so reckless around his hands, just like he always did, but he held the words back, knowing he didn’t need to anymore. But the subconscious anxiety buzzing within him was just the same. 

You didn’t rush him either. Just gave him a squeeze of reassurance, and that was enough to finally encourage him to put a finger down. And then another. Tip by tip resting firmly and fully against your knuckles, until only his pinky remained raised.

He stared down at the horrid appendage, the one that had betrayed him so many times. That he could remember the horrible, gruesome ways in which it had destroyed in full, vivid detail now. Of the damage it could do to not only the world, but had done to his world. To Mon-chan, his mother, his sister…

The League was his world now — you were his world. And the idea of destroying that all with his own hands. It was too much. 

No, he decided, starting to pull away. This wasn’t fucking worth the risk.

But you leaned forward then, pressing your lips gently against his, locking him in place. You didn’t deepen it, nor did you pull away. You just held yourself against him, willing him to understand that this would all be okay. That he was a “Grand Commander” now, and with that came taking risks. Risks that you’d stand behind him through to the bitter end.

How you managed to communicate that all in just a kiss — how you always managed to communicate so much with so little — should’ve been a quirk of its own honestly. But regardless of how, the comfort of those unspoken words was enough to spur him forward. Shigaraki brought down his pinky.

And you didn’t turn to dust. 

You pulled away in fact, just a little, your eyes fluttering open as a soft, tearful smile spread across your face.

“Tomura—”

He surged forward, all of that hesitation and fear from before vanished in an instant. He shoved your hands together forward, pressing you to the bed as he kissed you with new fervor. His free hand came to hold your face, full and tight, all five fingers scrambling up the length of your cheek, your temple, tangling tight into your hair.

You sobbed happily into his mouth as he pulled his other hand free from yours, running it all across your body, disintegrating your clothes on contact, and then bringing those fingers back up the same route of bare skin, fully in control.

He was just as quick to decay his own clothes as you reached forward to try and tear at the top button of his shirt, which, while haphazardly done, was still too secure for either of your patience. He needed to feel you, all of you. Every inch against every pad of his fingers for the very first time.

And possibly even the last.

He didn’t want to think about that now though. He just wanted to shove you up higher onto the center of the bed, shoving your legs open wide as he kissed down the expanse of your chest and stomach. As he buried himself into your center, the pads of his fingers squeezing painfully tight into the pudge of your thighs.

But you didn’t mind the pain. Not only because it surged the pleasure just that much further, but because it grounded you. Reminded you that this was real. It promised a world — no matter how distant or near-impossible it was in reality — where Tomura Shigaraki could be whole and happy. 

Where he could fully be with you.

Your legs strained against his grip, instinctually trying to close as his working tongue pushed you closer and closer to climax. It wasn’t going to take you long at all to reach that peak. After all, the intensity and emotion of the moment aside, it had been a long while since your last coupling. The weeks of recovering from his fight with Re-Destro, the full month you all spent fighting Gigantomachia. And of course, even before that, with the close quarters and stress that came from living on the run and in complete squalor, your escapades had become pretty few and far between. (It was hard to get in the mood when you hadn’t eaten or showered properly in over a week).

So yeah, suffice it to say you were pretty touch-starved at this point, the work of your fingers on lonely nights at the villa having absolutely nothing on Shigaraki’s skillful tongue. And the voraciousness with which he assaulted your sex certainly wasn’t slowing things down for you either.

He didn’t even need to slip his long, knowing fingers into you to have you coming undone — he wouldn’t want to right now anyway, completely losing himself in the way your thighs felt squeezed between his fingers, but that feel of his nails digging into you spurred you on in their own way, ripping a cry from your throat as you came hard under his lips.

Shigaraki smirked up at you, wiping the excess slick from his chin with the meat of his palm, “Missed that.”

You smiled back at him, your own tinged with a bit of sadness as he climbed up over you, hands running up your ribcage. Because you didn’t just miss this. You missed him. And you knew that feeling wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. In fact, it was just getting started.

His brows furrowed at your expression. He’d always been good at reading you, and it’s not like you were being particularly subtle, “You good?”

You chased the melancholy from your smile quickly, planting a happy peck at the corner of his mouth before showing him teeth, “I’m great.”

He hummed, a gentleness overtaking his own features as he stared down at you. Adoration, pure and whole and unrestrained, particularly as he brought a hand back up to cup your face. His fingers spread across the expanse of your skin greedily, his thumb dipping down into your mouth. 

They were small gestures, little things that he seemed the most eager to do with his newly-attained range of touch. But it was obvious that they were huge to him. They were a freedom and a comfort that he’d been chasing his entire life. Even if he didn’t know it.

He groaned as you wrapped your own fingers around his cock, guiding him eagerly to your entrance. You had to. As much as he obviously wanted to fuck you, he couldn’t bare to take his fingers off of you for a second. He’d settle for fucking the plush of your thighs if it meant that he could hold you fully in his hands for just a second longer.

You, of course, were not so willing to settle.

“God—fuuck yes,” he growled, low in his throat, as he sank slowly into you, eternally grateful that for once your patience was even more lacking than his.

You grinned up at him`, shifting your hands to settle on the hard curves of his hips, “That’s good, huh?”

It was all he could do to nod shakily, lip biting back a breathy whine and brows knitting hard, as he tried desperately not to blow his load immediately.

You hummed happily at the sight, bringing one of your hands up to run across his cheek and through his hair. You remembered thinking a few months ago just how much those fights with Gigantomachia and Redestro had hardened him, aged him. Foolishly, it had even had you questioning briefly if this would be the end of your relationship. If maybe the shift that occurred during his awakening would chasm too big a valley for you two to bridge.

Of course, in the privacy of the League’s quarters, off of the stages and away from all the new adoring fans (bandwagoners, you and Spinner sometimes like to joke), he had been the same old Tomura Shigaraki, if not a little more confident and level-headed. He still complained about how everyone sitting on his bed eating dinner while he was on strict bed rest was too loud, still invested himself fully and kicking ass at every little game – from video games to cards – they challenged him to in order to pass the time with a cocky little smirk on his face.

And right now, with his face flushed and mouth agape with pleasure, he still looked just as young and ready to take on the world as the day you met him.

Finally he started to rock into you, slow and deep. One of his hands slipped down to the crux of your neck, fingertips biting tight into that smooth skin as he pulled you closer and closer into him. The other found a tight, desperate purchase on the handle of your hip. He used the grip of both to pump harder and deeper into you with every snapping thrust.

Minus the dry spell the two of you had endured over the last couple of months, you and Shigaraki had, overall, had a lot of sex over the last year that you’d known him.

Like, a lot of sex.

Rough sex, soft sex, angry, and fun. And while the man who claimed to hate everything would of course be remiss to admit it, there had indeed been quite a lot of genuine, intense lovemaking mixed in there too. But this right now, with all of the feelings and newness and longing that came with every stroke and whisper?

If Tomura Shigaraki was in fact capable of love, you were positive that this was the representation of that.

His lips dropped hot against the shell of your ear, peppering desperate bites and kisses along the skin as a string of breathy babble spilled out between.

“God fuck, you’re so perfect. Feel so good. Every part of you, so good. So fucking perfect…”

Overwhelmed with emotion and pleasure, it was all you could do to just mewl out his name, “Tomura, Tomura, Tomura—!”

His hips rolled against you with every hard buck, stimulating your aching sex in the way he knew you loved. That would have you clenching and spilling around him over and over again in the way that he loved. You weren’t even sure if it was intentional at this point, or if you had memorized each other’s bodies so well that it just became an instinctual part of his movement. You certainly didn’t have the forethought to drag your nails up the curve of his spine in the way that had him cursing and speeding up immediately.

“F-Fuck, I’m not gonna last like that—” he growled out, rutting desperately into you in spite of his own warning.

“G-Good,” you breathed back, rolling your hips right back into his, “Don’t.”

“B-But—”

He couldn’t get the rest of the words out, his mouth overtaken by a deliciously loud moan instead as he hit that deep, spongy spot inside of you that was heaven for the both of you. You got the message anyway.

But he wanted to keep fucking you. But he wanted this to last.

But he never wanted this to end.

You tangled your hand through his locks, reveling in the fact that there was so much more to hold now, and yanked his head back hard so he’d look at you.

“But nothing,” you smiled through hot, huffing breaths, “You’re fucking crazy if you think this is our only round.”

He stared at you in complete awe for a moment, hips almost coming to a stop as he took in this moment, took in you and the way that you always seemed to know what he was thinking and what he needed, even when he didn’t. 

Even if he hadn’t had his own dreams for the future, looking at you now, reveling in all that you’d been through together and all that you’d done for him, thinking about all that you deserved… If he could destroy this rotten society just so that you could have the freedom to be half as happy as you looked in this moment for the rest of your life, he’d gladly fucking do it.

Shigaraki’s face mirrored yours quickly after, a wide lascivious grin spreading across his face. It was all teeth and joy and feral desire to absolutely fucking wreck you. And let himself pound into you with the most reckless abandon he could muster.

You cried out at the new punishing pace, nails pushing hard into his skin, and heels locking sharp around his waist, spurred by the desperate need to have him pound into you harder, deeper, faster. Until you were completely coming apart around him, with his own violent release following close behind.

About two hours later, when you’re lying blissed out, sticky, and half-asleep on Shigaraki’s bare chest, he told you to roll over onto your stomach.

You groaned in protest — while your spirit was eager to roll around the sheets with him as much as possible before the sunrise, your body was sore and spent.

“Not for that,” he said, nudging your shoulder, “Just trust me.”

There was still some visible exasperation as you finally gave in, joints and back aching as you moved them before they were ready. You rolled over onto your stomach, dropping your cheek into the mountain of pillows that awaited you.

Shigaraki followed, moving his body over yours and straddling your hips. You were about to scold him for tricking you when, rather than grinding himself into the curve of your ass or thighs, he simply sat down on your butt and brought his hands to the base of your back. Then he started to knead and you knew exactly what he was doing.

Many a time during your months on the run did you take it upon yourself to try and alleviate some of his stress. Of course one of his favorite ways (and yours too) of doing so was to fuck each other’s brains out. But there were also many times when that wasn’t exactly an option. Whether because there were others around or because he was elbow deep in work for their next operation.

At times like those, when he was hunched over a shitty, half-dead laptop he’d manage to scrounge up from a dumpster, or held his fingers to the bridge of his nose, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to fight off an impending headache from the constant pressures of responsibility — you’d usually come up behind him and rub his neck. 

It wasn’t like you made a big show of it or anything. Most of the time you’d just reach a single hand over to him and start to stroke his neck without a word. Not expecting him to say or do anything, not even expecting a thank you. You just wanted to do whatever you could. When it was just the two of you around whatever sorry excuse for a base you’d managed to find, or when you’d been lucky enough to be settled in a safehouse with private rooms, you’d manage to talk him into laying down on his stomach, much like this, and work knots that he could’ve sworn had been there since birth, right out of his back. 

He never said anything about it, never thanked you nor told you to stop, but in retrospect he did realize that it was one of the few things that managed to bring him even a smidgeon of peace over those many stressful months, that actually got him through it all. Particularly in the fights against Gigantomachia, where, the second the beast was asleep, you’d insist he lay his head down in your lap while you rubbed softly at his temples, lulling him near instantly to do the same.

It truly meant the world to him, even if he’d never admit it. A deep, foolishly sentimental part of him always wished that he could return the favor. 

And now he could. 

Of course… That didn’t mean he was any good at it.

“Pinching, you’re pinching,” you winced as his thumbs pressed together, unoiled, on a patch of your back awkwardly.

“Oh shit,” he released his grip, settling to just rub his fingers up and down your back slowly, “Sorry…”

“It’s fine. You just can’t do it that hard if you don’t have any oil or lotion, you know?”

His brows furrowed, “You always did it that hard without any of that crap and it felt fine.

You smirked back at him playfully, “That’s because I’m really good.”

He shot you a look, completely unimpressed.

“I liked what you were doing before,” you conceded. 

This was clearly something he wanted to do, and who were you to complain or judge when he was being so unabashedly giving? 

“When you were using your palms. Just pressing and kneading with your whole hands rather than trying to do any pressure point stuff is really nice.”

“Yeah, okay…” he nodded, concentration settling over his features as he followed instructions.

You sighed, burying your face back into the pillows as he ran those hot, calloused hands purposefully up and down your back. 

This was nice. 

Again, while he wasn’t hurting you anymore, the massage itself wasn’t particularly skillful. It did put you at ease though, the way his smell and presence, the way those hands — even when you could never feel them fully against you — always managed to put you at ease.

After at least thirty minutes passed and Shigaraki showed no sign of stopping his ministrations, you peaked back up at him.

“You don’t have to keep this up you know.”

He snorted, “Yeah I know.” 

And you should’ve expected that response. Because of course he knew. He wasn’t doing this out of obligation or anything. Tomura Shigaraki didn’t do anything he didn’t want to after all.

You rolled your eyes, “I just mean that you must be tired after all that. Don’t you want to sleep?”

“I’m gonna be asleep for the next four months. I think I’ll be good missing one night.”

The message behind those words was clear. He only had so much time to spend with you, he wasn’t going to waste even a second of it with something as stupid as sleeping.

You should’ve been flattered by that. And of course you were. And truth be told, you had the same mindset as him. You had no plans to sleep that night either, even if he had. But the reminder of his fate for the next four months brought a bitterness to your mouth that overpowered the sweetness of this opportunity.

“Sleep, huh?” you said doubtfully, “Is that what the Doctor is calling it?”

“I guess suspended animation,” he corrected himself, “Or whatever the fuck.”

Amongst other things. Hellish agony he believed was the way the Doctor so eloquently put it. But he’d chosen to spare you (and the rest of the League) those particular details.

Even without that knowledge though, you still weren’t thrilled by the prospect. Of course because you were going to miss him, but mostly because you trusted that fucking doctor about as far as he could throw you. Which, for that portly little creep, you were pretty sure wasn’t far.

Particularly, because now that the excitement and happiness you’d had for Tomura’s newfound quirk control (as well as the fog from your repeated orgasms) was starting to fade into something more grounded, a sneaky little question managed to worm its way into your head.

Had the Doctor been capable of “fixing” his quirk this entire time?

A loud pounding on the door suddenly broke the silence, at least two fists rapping. And then Twice’s muffled call of, “Alright you two, you’ve had your fun! Now come out and play with the rest of us! Take your time! Make babies if ya want!”

You snorted at the call. Shigaraki was substantially less entertained.

“Jiiiin!” Toga whined from the other side of the door, “Leave them alone! They want some privacy!”

Ah, so the two fists knocking must’ve both been Twice.

“But you missed Shigaraki too, Toga!”

“I know, but…” 

A stretch of silence. And then apparently Toga’s support for love was outweighed by how much she missed her friend. Because then two more fists started knocking on the door.

“Tomuraaaa, come ooouuuut!!” Toga cried, Twice starting up his own pounding on the door right along with them.

“Yeah, yeah— come out! Stay away !”

“I’ll kill them…” Shigaraki growled, glaring at the door heatedly.

You just giggled as you rolled over under him, dropping him to sit on your waist.

“Oh don’t be like that Tomura,” you cooed, reaching up to cup his cheek in your palm and turning him to look at you, “We should all go hang out. I’m not the only one who’s gonna miss you these next four months, you know.”

He sneered at the suggestion at first, wanting nothing more than to spend the entirety of these next twelve or so hours with his hands holding on to you as tight as possible.

But then he really got thinking about it. About them. 

Spinner, Toga, Twice, Compress, hell, even Dabi. There wasn’t going to be time to fuck around with them all once he woke up. They’d be going straight into action, into war. Into the future, wherever that may lead. This wasn’t just going to be his last guaranteed chance to enjoy time with you. It was his last chance to spend time with any of them, until they achieved their goals. And by the end of all that, who even knew how many of them would still be alive?

It was a weight he’d carried around with ease as they planned out their attack over the last couple of months, a weight he’d been carrying for the past year if he was being honest. But it never felt as heavy on his soul at this very moment.

You were right. Absolutely right.

How annoying, he thought with a grumble.

You smiled as you saw that shift on his face, the slight softness that always fell over him when he thought about the League, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“Alright?” you pressed.

He sighed, “Yeah, yeah. Alright…” 

And then let the corner of his mouth quirk up ever so slightly as he looked down at you, so splayed and fucked out and pretty. He leaned down to press a long, but surprisingly chaste kiss on you, for someone that was still sitting atop your naked form with his own.

Because just because he was going to get up, didn’t mean he was going to be in any rush.

Caught up in the feel of each other, neither of you noticed the click of the door and Spinner’s voice announcing, startlingly clear, “Guys, the door is unlocked.”

“Ack— SPINNER!! ”

“Okay, you’ve got that all memorized?” Toga chirped, sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor.

“Yeah, I guess.” Shigaraki, across from her, shrugged, strongly resisting the urge to tell her about how stupid this all was (again). 

“Great! So then we start in that first position, crossed arms,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest by example.

Shigaraki sighed and mirrored her.

“Alright! One, two, three!” she sounded off excitedly, before fluttering her hands eagerly and singing, “Misssss Maaaaaryyyyy Mack, Mack, Mack! All dressed in black, black, black…”

You grinned from your position on the couch, glass of wine in hand, as you watched the two. Shigaraki was pointedly not singing along with Toga, but he was matching her claps with impeccable accuracy.

The League had been just as stunned and excited to hear about Shigaraki’s new upgrade. Not to the point of immediately jumping on his dick, but that was obviously more than okay with him.

No, they were more interested in giving him a speedrun through all of the things he’d missed out on in life from not being able to grab it with all five fingers. Playground clap games that Shigaraki, as a boy, couldn’t say he ever played even before his quirk awakened, were apparently of the highest priority to Toga.

“With silver buttons, buttons buttons— Tomura, you’re not singing!”

“And I’m not gonna,” he grumbled back, but not stopping his hands, “Take the W as it is, or don’t take it at all.”

You laughed at the sight, a new glass of wine that you were sure Shigaraki would want by the end of this.

Mr. Compress read Shigaraki’s palms next. 

They supposed that this was technically something they could’ve done even before Shigaraki’s upgrade, but with how careful and particular he’d been with anybody getting anywhere near his hands, it definitely wasn’t something they had ever thought to give a go before now.

He decided to read the palm that hadn’t been marred by the fight with Redestro, for more “accuracy” (a reasoning that Shigaraki had openly scoffed at).

“Your love line is quite straight and short,” Compress explained, “Which indicates that you don’t have a lot of interest in love.”

“Booooo,” a red-faced Toga whined from her place on the floor between your legs, shooting Shigaraki an aggressive thumbs down.

You promptly grabbed the half-empty can of chuhai next to her foot, and moved it up to the side table out of her sight. Underage drinking was officially done for the night.

Unbothered, Mr. Compress continued his reading, running his mechanical finger along the top line of Shigaraki’s palm, “Since your love line begins below your middle finger though, it also means that when you do love, you’re quite selfish about it.”

You chuckled, “Hammer? Meet nail.”

“Oh shut up,” he waved you off with his free hand.

“Next is your head line, which represents the way you learn and communicate, as well as your overall intellectualism and thirst for knowledge.” Compress turned to the rest of the group, finger raised as he lectured.

Dabi, from his place leaning judgmentally against the wall across from them, huffed, “Alright, I agree with the Boss on this one. This is really stupid.”

Toga grinned at him, pointing teasingly, “You’re just saying that because you don’t have any more lines in your palm to read! Jelly!”

“I’m not—”

“Jelly!” Twice backed Toga up with a chant, “Jelly, jelly, jelly! Peanut butter !”

Dabi just sighed and returned to his nth beer of the night.

“You have a deep and long head line, that runs separate from your heart line,” Compress continued, “That means that you’re clear and focussed, with a great sense of adventure and enthusiasm for life.”

Shigaraki snorted, “Alright, now I know this is bullshit.”

You flicked his cheek scoldingly, “Just keep going.”

“I also see a singular cross in your heart line, which suggests that you carry some emotional crisis.”

Compress didn’t linger on that point. After all, everyone in this room was dealing with the same thing in one way or another.

“The lifeline is the most interesting in my opinion,” Compress explained, “As opposed to what you might think, it doesn’t have to do with the length of your life, but the quality of it. Yours runs close to the thumb and forks downwards, which means you’re often tired and a pessimist.”

Toga snickered a bit at that, “Still think it’s BS, Tomura?”

“I’m getting the distinct feeling you guys are doing this just as an excuse to insult me to my face.”

You gave his freehand a squeeze, “Oh we don’t need the pretense to do that.”

“ Oi. ”

“There’s a circle in the line too, which predicts great injury or hospitalization.”

The League looked at him pointedly, and he just rolled his eyes.

“The last detail about your life line is a curious one. It’s short and shallow,” Compress said, cocking his head in a way that clearly indicated that he didn’t exactly agree with it, “Which indicates that you’re easily manipulated by others.”

Your frowned. 

The rest of the League members pulled faces that clearly showed their similar disagreement with the reading. But you, thinking back to all his interactions with All for One and the Doctor, everything in his life that he’d described to you…

Well, you weren’t so sure.

“Pffft, like I said,” Shigaraki scoffed, gesturing for you to hand him his wine, “It’s all bullshit.”

Deliberately, Mr. Compress did not read Shigaraki’s fate line.

You weren’t sure when the night turned into the League taking turns with choosing tasks for Shigaraki to complete, but you weren’t going to complain. You were already looking forward to Toga’s next round after she’d screamed up into the security camera you all knew Skeptic was watching irritatedly through to get her some string for cat’s cradle.

Spinner’s turn was pretty simple though, and at first, not especially different then before. You thought at first that maybe that was by design, that Spinner just wanted to spend some time with Shigaraki the way he always had.

He wanted to play video games.

Of course, there was a twist.

“Fingers down.” Spinner scolded him for what had to be the fifth time in the last ten minutes, “Toga, I need chicken.”

“Yes, chef!” she chirped back happily.

“God, fucking—” Shigaraki growled, forcing his pinkies back down onto the controller against every instinct in his body.

Years of having to hold things in a particular way had caused him to develop a very particular controller grip. One that, once, back at the bar — god, that felt like it was so long ago now — several of you had tried to mimic, just for the hell of it. (Or more accurately, just to get his goat). And it had been hard . The general consensus had been that no normal human should be able to hold a controller like this, let alone hold a controller like this and be as good at video games as Tomura Shigaraki was. 

Now though, the shoe was on the other foot — or more accurately the controller was in the other hands — as you all forced Shigaraki to go a couple rounds of Overcooked while holding the pro controller like a normal fucking person. And it was not going well. 

“Stop dropping shit!” you yelled hysterically next to Shigaraki, “Do you��see how many burritos we still need to make?!”

“Do you think I’m doing it on purpose?!” he shouted right back, possibly more worked up than you’d ever seen him.

Toga on the other side of him giggled. She and Spinner were having absolutely no trouble at all on their side of the kitchen, “Tomura, I thought you were supposed to be good at video games.”

“I am! I’m just not used to this grip— FUCK! ” he screamed out as his character once again fell off the map, throwing his controller down onto the carpet.

The room erupted in doubled over laughter and “woah woah woah’s”, over the tantrum the sorts of which none of you had seen since the early days back at the bar.

Maybe he wasn’t such a good sport after all.

With Twice’s request, even you had to admit that things were getting a bit ridiculous.

Twice slammed his elbow down onto the table, holding his palm open for Shigaraki to take, “Gimme all you got, boss! Go easy on me, please!”

Shigaraki, on the other hand, seemed the most enthusiastic about this one, placing his own elbow on the table and grabbing Twice’s hand tight in his own with a cocky grin. 

You suspected that the many beers he’d knocked back (not to mention the entire bottle of wine the two of you had killed together) played a decent role in that, but it was also impossible to deny that their dear leader was fiercely competitive, no matter the game.

“Ready?” you asked, looking between the two. They nodded, and you begrudgingly stepped further into your role as referee, clapping as you counted down, “Three, two, one— arm wrestle!”

The room blew up in a (small) chorus of screams and cheers.  Actually, even that was generous. As referee you were expressly forbidden from picking sides (Twice was very serious about that), and Compress and Dabi were too composed and too uninterested respectively to participate. It was just Spinner and Toga going wild and slamming their hands on the table as Shigaraki’s and Twice’s muscles strained against each other — although they were more than loud enough for the whole group.

“Go, Jin go!” Toga cheered rhythmically, “Go, Jin go!”

“Kick his ass, Shigaraki!” 

The match lasted a respectable amount of time, both sides putting up a pretty damn good fight. And while Twice was built like a tank and was no slouch either — he probably would’ve won this by a moderate margin a couple of months ago — Shigaraki’s month-long escapade with Gigantomachia had given him a strength and will that surpassed Twice’s own.

“Arrrrgh— damn it !!” Twice shouted as Shigaraki slammed his fist down into the table definitively, “Great game Shigaraki! Die!”

You chuckled as Twice got up from his seat, head dropped in defeat, then turned to Spinner, who was already rolling out his dominant shoulder.

“Next challenger,” you gestured to the seat, “You’re up.”

Dabi didn’t have any requests throughout the night (surprise, surprise), just a lot of eyerolls and snippy commentary. But he also didn’t ever split off from any of you, which made you consider that he may not have thought this was all as stupid as he claimed.

The part of the night he seemed to enjoy (or at least, not vocalize his annoyance or the group’s childishness over), the most, was when around 4 am rolled around. 

Out of ideas and exhausted, but absolutely refusing to go to bed, the League decided to take a particularly noisy and drunken nightwalk around the property (much to the dread of whichever resident’s window they passed). This quickly turned into an equally harebrained climb up onto the roof so that you could all watch the sun come up.

That sunrise was still a good hour or so away though by the time you all got settled up there, and as chatty, adrenaline-filled, and drunk as most of you were, the late hour and comforting breeze was starting to get to you all. 

Twice and Toga had long fallen asleep, heads resting together. Compress, with his hands folded over his stomach and Spinner, curling up tighter into a ball with every minute, were not far behind. Dabi’s eyes were closed, but he might’ve still been conscious. He didn’t make a sound either way.

Only Shigaraki seemed to be wide awake, staring up at the waning moon with a complex expression on his face. He looked like he was thinking hard, but also somewhat at peace. Grateful for this moment, but already mourning its inevitable end. Exhilarated by the future that began for him tomorrow.

Wondering just what exactly he’d be leaving behind in the past.

You watched this all cross his face, not shifting between expressions, but clearly feeling it all at once. Overwhelmed, and unprepared to process it all. The one thing that seemed to keep him grounded was the hand that held yours, tight and warm. Anytime tonight that his hands weren’t occupied with whatever silly ringer the rest of the League was putting through, he was threading those fingers right back with yours, savoring the one new experience that he truly wanted to indulge the most in. 

And you were more than happy to let him.

He shifted a bit in surprise as you nuzzled into his shoulder, squeezing his hand just a bit tighter in your own.

“You’re still awake,” he commented, voice horse with the sleep his body clearly wanted.

“So are you,” you mumbled against the fabric of his shirt, just breathing him in.

“Yeah, but you need sleep,” he chuckled, “Like I said, I’ll be having more than enough of it for the next four months.”

You stilled against him, frowning. 

Right. The next four months.

Shigaraki seemed to sense your shift in mood, and kicked himself. That was a stupid thing to mention again when you’d finally managed to put it out of your mind for a few hours, and when that fate itself was even fewer hours away.

He ran his thumb with a restlessness that was once reserved for his nails against his neck. Even with that itch seemingly gone for good from his life, Shigaraki was still a fidgety person by nature. Especially when uncomfortable.

“You guys will be busy,” he grumbled, “Planning the attacks, organizing your regiments, training… You’ll barely even notice I’m gone.”

You didn’t comment on the stupidity of that statement, even though it was a really, really stupid and patently untrue thing for him to say. Because frankly, it wasn’t what was on your mind at the moment, not the front of it anyway. Of course the fact that you were going to miss him and these days together was a constant parasite, gnawing and suckling in the back of your brain. But truly, your current concern was a bit less melancholy. Less abstract.

Shigaraki had full control over his quirk now. And it was great and beautiful and nothing short of a miracle of course, you wouldn’t trade this night and all the memories opened up by that particular door for anything in the world. And yet you could not fight that question that had first struck your mind the first moment you had to actually think about it.

Why now?

That question wrenched through you painfully, no matter how much you loved the feel and sight of his hand in your own. Because sure, Shigaraki had been out of touch with the Doctor ever since All for One’s arrest. But what about the last sixteen some years that he’d been at the personal beck and call of All for One and his ward? Why hadn’t he ever adjusted Shigaraki’s quirk then? Was it a matter of technology, a breakthrough in quirk alteration he only recently was able to make? Or was it something else? Was there something bigger going on here? 

What was he not telling you all?

Shigaraki looked down at you, giving that flat expression of his that you knew translated to concern. You looked up from your locked hands to meet his gaze. He stared into you, those deep pools of carmine that stood so hard against the rest of the world, now soft and imploring. Even more than they were for the League. This look was for you.

“Tomura—”

“It’s gonna be worth it.”

You paused, that newfound calm confidence in his voice silencing you in an instant.

“I know these next four months are gonna be hard for all of us. This war is gonna be hard for all of us,” he said, turning to stare back up at the stars, “But it’s all going to be worth it in the end. We’re gonna make a new world where you’re all able to live as you want to. To be free. And this power that the Doctor is giving me... That’s going to assure that it all happens.”

“And… You don’t think that you can do all that now?” you breathed, “You’ve gotten so strong already, Tomura. Maybe you don’t even need that power.”

He turned back to you with a small but sincere smile. The one that betrayed that deep down tenderness he always tried so earnestly to hide. That called his bluff, revealing that there were feelings other than hate in that cursed body of his.

The one that made your heart skip a beat.

“I don’t want to take any chances,” he said, bringing his free hand — all five fingers — to rest on your cheek, “Not when it comes to my comrades’ dreams.”

Not when it comes to you .

Those unspoken words were loud and clear.

You swallowed something tight in your throat, fighting the burn that threatened to overflow from your eyes, the worry that brawled to burst out from your chest and ruin everything. But you had no choice but to shove it all down.

Forcing a smile onto your face, you squeezed his hand tight.

“I understand.”

His own smile remained the same, although a bit of relief did seem to fall over his eyes. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple and stayed there, breathing as much of you in as he possibly could.

Shigaraki had made up his mind. He was going to go through with this. And there was nothing you could say, no concern you could voice or ultimatum you could give that would change his mind. This decision was beyond his own wants and dreams at this point. It was for something far more important to him, even if he’d never admit it.

This was for all of you.

And who were you to stand in the way of that?

The fears wouldn’t ease with time, the nagging in the back of your head wouldn’t be forgotten through training or planning or anything else that you could do in the next four months to try and drown it out. But you just had to suck it up. You had to support him.

You could talk about your fears and the Doctor and any secret ambitions he may have after this ordeal. After the war even. You could talk about anything then, really. It was only four months after all. 

And the two of you would soon have all the time in the world.

[jordanstrophe]

Abandoned whumpee

CW: Whumper turned caretaker, injured whumpee, defiant, restrained, angst

[Previous] -- [Masterlist] -- [Next]

Whumpee awoke in their enemies infirmary.

An IV was pricking their arm and the lights were dimmed. They twitched as their wrist ached from the handcuff binding them to the bed.

"You're awake? I was getting worried about you." Whumper hummed, sitting by their bedside with a large cup of coffee. Whumpee shakily rose their hand as the handcuff clinked.

"This isn't necessary." Whumpee tiredly mumbled.

"My my, you've been awake for ten seconds and already making demands." Whumper chuckled. "But I'm afraid we're not on that level of trust yet, I can get you something for the bruise."

Whumpee tried to sit up, everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. 

"I'm a w-wounded prisoner. It's not like I know my w-way around here-" Their voice hitched as their arm gave in as they collapsed. Whumper was quick to pull them up and put a pillow behind their back.

"Easy now, you're still healing. -And don't downgrade yourself, you could still pack a punch, I know how you were trained." Whumper scolded, fixing the blanket around them.

"How could you possibly know that." Whumpee squinted. Whumper ignored their question and waved someone over; they were handed something whumpee couldn't see from the bed. Whumper moved towards them whumpee tried to scamper as far as the handcuff could go.

"Hey! Hey, calm down. It's not going to hurt you." Whumper lulled, placing a plate with a full meal on their lap. "Look, it's just a peace offering."

Whumpee's face flushed with a hint of pink as they lowered their shoulders. Hospitality was the least they expected from their enemy's leader. "You're feeding me?" Whumpee tilted their head.

"Of course I'm feeding you. I saved your life, I'm not going to waste it all by starving you. Gracious, eat your dinner." Whumper scoffed. 

"This is dinner? How long did you sedate me?" Whumpee suddenly perked up.

"I didn't sedate you, you were exhausted. That's just how long you slept. Now eat, you'll feel better." They nudged, taking their wrist and putting a plastic fork in whumpee's hand.

"If I didn't know any better," Whumper chuckled, "I would guess your beloved team wasn't feeding you either-"

Whumper felt movement and grabbed whumpee's arm before they attempted to plummet the fork into whumper's neck. They glared at each other as Whumpee was panting and pouring with sweat.

"Sweetheart, that is a plastic fork you're holding." Whumper glared.

"I know. But it's got three sh-sharp points and that's good enough f-for me." Whumpee grunted, still attempting to stab them. Whumper grabbed their collar and yanked them mere inches away. Whumpee pushed and tried to back-peddle as whumper held their collar.

"That was a cute try." Whumper whispered in their ear. "But you don't have the strength to fight just yet, little lamb. Should have eaten first." They plucked the fork out of Whumpee's hand and released them. Whumpee fell back and winced, holding their wound as it pulsed. They could feel the stitches underneath their shirt, staying intact at least...

"You honestly can't believe you'll keep me here like this! I don't want to be here- I'm not your pet to tease!" Whumpee shouted at them.

"You're not my pet. If you want to be that way, then sure; you're like a lamb running for the cliffs that I have to keep pulling you away from." Whumper straightened their jacket and rubbed their neck.

"You're only keeping me alive so you can torture me later, I've told you from the start I won't ever give up my team-"

"-No." Whumper cut them off.

Whumpee suddenly quieted and closed their lips. "... What do you mean no?" They quietly asked.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, your head is so full of lies it sickens me to know what they've taught you! You want to know why I stayed by your side all day? You woke up throughout the night and cried yourself right back to sleep!"

"I wasn't crying!" Whumpee sobbed, covering their face and fell silent. Whumper shut their mouth and leaned back, realizing they had corned them. "I'm sorry. I uh ... I'll give you some space. I'll come check on you later." Whumper quickly stood. They craned their head back to see whumpee was now curled on their side facing away from them.

Whumpee flinched when they heard a "clink" as the handcuff fell off their wrist. It was a feeling of pure light and relief. It was a surprising gesture, even for the stunt they pulled with the now-revoked plastic fork.

This wasn't the ruthless enemy whumpee was expecting; whumper speaks as if they know more about their own team than whumpee does. If they got trusted enough to freely walk around, they would get to find their own answers deep in the core of their enemies base. 

 Perhaps this was an opportunity.

[Previous] -- [Masterlist] -- [Next]

@parasitebunny @starzabove @frog-hat-fa-ggot @morning-star-whump @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @mommymarichatfurever​  @isita-torrrres @tobiaslut

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Why Her and Not me?

Here part III is! I hope you all enjoy it! I also wanted to thank you all so much for the love and support on this story! I honestly wasn’t expecting this much feedback, so once again, thank you my lovelies! Enjoy~

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader x Geto Suguru (Angst)

Part I | Part II | Part IV

Several weeks had passed and things were starting to look better for you. Your heart felt lighter, your smile was more genuine, and the weight of your past relationship with Toru seemed to be gradually lifting. You found solace in the supportive presence of your friends, especially Suguru, whose unwavering support and understanding had become a source of comfort during these tumultuous times.

Word of Osaka and Toru making their relationship official spread around fast, and it didn’t take long for it to get to you. At first, hearing about Osaka and Toru's official relationship stung a little. It was a reminder of what could have been, a bittersweet realization that the person you once loved loved someone else. But with each passing day, you found yourself accepting their relationship, understanding that it was time to let go of the past and focus on your own healing journey.

And instead of dwelling on what could have been, you threw yourself into spending quality time with your friends, relishing in the laughter and camaraderie that filled the air whenever you were together. Suguru, in particular, had become a constant presence by your side, serving as a beacon of hope during moments of doubt and uncertainty.

Those weeks turned into months, and as the time flew by, you couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in your relationship with Suguru. What started as a platonic friendship had evolved into something deeper, a connection that resonated on a soul-deep level. His presence brought you comfort in ways you never thought possible, and you found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn't fully understand. It was in the little things—the way he would brush a stray hair from your face, the warmth of his hand on your shoulder when you needed reassurance, the genuine concern in his eyes whenever you spoke of your struggles—that made you realize there was something more between you.

You found comfort in his company, cherishing the moments you spent together, whether it was sharing quiet conversations late into the night or simply enjoying each other's presence in comfortable silence. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a sense of mutual respect and admiration that only deepened with each passing day.

But amidst the growing bond between you and Suguru, there lingered a lingering sense of uncertainty. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was something holding you back, a shadow of doubt that whispered reminders of your past heartache with Toru. Despite your growing feelings for Suguru, you couldn't help but wonder if you were ready to open your heart to love again, to risk being hurt once more.

Yet, despite your reservations, you couldn't deny the undeniable pull towards Suguru, the magnetic attraction that seemed to draw you closer with each passing moment. And as you navigated the complexities of your emotions, one thing became clear: no matter what the future held, Suguru had become an integral part of your life, a beacon of light in the darkness, guiding you towards a path of healing and self-discovery.

However, there were still moments every now and then where you caught your mind going back to Toru. It had been a good 6 months since his confession about Osaka, and you did your best to keep your distance and tread carefully around him, mindful of the emotional turbulence that lurked beneath the surface.

Occasionally, you would find yourself in Toru's company, the echoes of your shared history a reminder of both joy and pain. You always made sure, however, that whenever you were with Toru, either Shoko, Hime, or Suguru were with you. You weren’t quite ready to be alone with Toru, not yet anyways.

You figured he wouldn’t notice, and you were right…for a while. Toru seemed completely consumed by his newfound relationship with Osaka. He appeared to be thoroughly enjoying his time with her, often seen buying her gifts and showering her with hugs and subtle kisses. Their affectionate displays only served to reinforce the growing distance between you and Toru, highlighting the undeniable shift in his focus and priorities.

However, it wasn’t long before he started to notice your absence during his relationship. At first, he brushed it off, attributing it to your busy schedule or other commitments. But as days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, your presence grew increasingly scarce. A sense of unease began to settle in the pit of his stomach as he found himself missing the easy banter and shared laughter that characterized your guys’ time together, the void left by your absence becoming more pronounced with each passing day. It was as if a piece of the puzzle was missing, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling of incompleteness that lingered in your absence.

Whenever Toru and Osaka ventured out together, certain places would trigger memories of him and you, especially your bakery. Passing by it every day with Osaka, Toru couldn't help but be engulfed by the tantalizing scents wafting from its doors. And despite knowing your schedule, he would linger around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Maybe even get a chance to finally speak to you. Sometimes, he would wait nearly an hour, yearning to talk to you, to see you again. But you never emerged, leaving him with a hollow ache in his chest.

What’s worse is that he now finds his thoughts often drifting to you, wondering where you were and what you were doing. Were you safe? Were you with someone he knows? Were you out and about having the best time of your life without him? He himself couldn’t believe how much you were on his mind. Even when he had Osaka, the girl he had been wanting to date for a while now, he found himself yearning for your company instead. There was something about you that she couldn’t replace, and it was becoming more and more obvious each day.

Beyond the longing for your presence and the fun that came along with you, Toru found himself missing your baking. Despite Osaka's efforts to replicate your treats, they never quite measured up. Your creations were perfection, each bite a symphony of flavors that left him craving more. It was as if every pastry, every loaf of bread, was crafted just for him, tailored to satisfy his every craving.

As time passed, Toru also couldn't ignore the growing realization that he and Osaka had little in common. Their conversations felt forced, their interests diverging more with each passing day. She would suggest activities that held no appeal to him, and he struggled to find common ground with her. It was as if they were two puzzle pieces forced together, their edges rough and incompatible, unable to fit into each other's lives seamlessly.

Despite his best efforts to focus on his budding romance with Osaka, Toru couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. It was as if his heart was pulling him in a different direction, toward someone he never expected to fall for. And as he grappled with his conflicting emotions, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he had been looking for love in all the wrong places.

As he reflected on the dynamics of his relationship with Osaka, Toru couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for the growing distance between you. The more he tried to immerse himself in his newfound romance, the more he found himself longing for the familiarity and comfort of your companionship. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to confront these conflicting emotions, choosing instead to bury them beneath a facade of contentment, hoping they would eventually fade away with time.

Despite his outward appearance of happiness, Toru couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that he was living a lie, pretending to be someone he wasn’t just to fit into the mold of the perfect boyfriend. Deep down, he knew that his heart belonged elsewhere, tethered to you by an invisible thread that refused to be severed. And as he grappled with the weight of his emotions, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was destined to remain caught between two worlds, torn between duty and desire, until he found the courage to follow his heart. Maybe he just needed to give everything a little more time and everything would soon fall into place…Yeah! That’s it. All he needs is time…

———

One evening, you decided to invite the group over for a movie night, including Toru and Osaka. It was true that you still had mixed feelings with them, but overall, you were still their friend. And you weren’t cruel to invite everyone else but them. Besides, it’s been a while since you all have hung out together as a group, so it would be good to have everyone back together again.

———

I heard a knock on my door, recognizing the voices of Shoko and Hime from the other side.

“Y/n! Hurry up and open the door already! It’s freezing out here! Honestly, you should just leave it unlocked at this point for the amount of times we come over,” Shoko complained from the opposite side. I chuckled as I quickly made my way to the door and swung it open, greeted by the sight of Shoko and Hime bundled up against the cold.

“Hey bestie! Look what I brought!” Shoko exclaimed, proudly displaying a couple of bottles of alcohol.

I rolled my eyes playfully at her while Hime shook her head in disapproval, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose.

”I tried to tell her not to get so much, but she didn’t listen,” Hime sighed.

”Shoko, you do realize this isn’t going to be a frat party, right? It’s just a casual hangout,” I reminded her, making her pout.

”Yeah, but we can still have some fun! Besides, it was on sale!” Shoko defended her choice of beverages.

”Fine, fine. Just don't overdo it, alright? We don’t want a repeat of last time…” I cautioned, remembering a particularly rowdy night. Shoko had drank way too much for her own good and it resulted in us having to run after her down the street. She was buttnaked, running freely around. Eventually, we caught up to her, but not before the cops got involved. She was dressed properly and taken in.

”Oh come on, you guys are no fun! Besides, it was a great memory, don’t you guys think?” Shoko asked with a playful grin.

”Not when we had to pay a hefty fine to bail you out!” Hime chimed in, earning a sheepish grin from Shoko. She put her hands up in defeat, not wanting to get a rise out of Hime.

”Okay, okay! I won’t drink too much… probably,” Shoko relented, eliciting a groan from Hime.

Suddenly, a familiar voice interrupted our banter, causing us to turn around.

“…Osaka?” Shoko began, momentarily confused. Hime quickly nudged her, prompting a correction.

”I-I mean…O-Osaka! You’re here!” Shoko amended, rubbing her side from Hime's nudge.

”Yeah! Me and Toru brought some snacks to share. I made them myself!” Osaka announced, holding up a box of homemade treats. I smiled, pushing past Shoko and Hime to grab onto Osaka’s arm.

”They look amazing, Osaka. Please come in. You must be freezing out there,” I welcomed her, noticing the curious glances exchanged between Shoko and Hime.

”I can’t imagine they’re anything like your sweets, Y/n, but I hope they at least satisfy you. Toru is constantly talking about how great your food tastes,” Osaka said sweetly, making me, Hime, and Shoko tense up.

”H-He does?” I asked, feeling a familiar ache in my chest.

”Mhmm! I don’t think a single day passes where he doesn’t stop by your bakery. He always talks about how you make the best Kikufuku! Sometimes he stops by to say hi,” Osaka continued, unaware of the tension she had stirred.

Guilt began to build up in my stomach. I knew about him coming to my shop, and I deliberately made sure to stay in the back when he visited, avoiding him. It was just too much for me to talk to him…alone especially.

“Y-Yeah…” I responded weakly.

”Though, I can see why. Your baking is the best! Anytime I talk to my friends back in my hometown, I always tell them about your desserts and how amazing your food is! You’ve sure got a talent for that, Y/n!” Osaka praised, making me smile softly at her kindness.

Guilt nagged at me as I accepted the sweets from Osaka. I couldn't shake the feeling that her presence was a constant reminder of what I had lost.

”I’m sure these sweets taste amazing, Osaka. Now, you go sit over there… and try to ignore the alcohol that Shoko brought. I’m pretty sure it's all just for her,” I teased, hoping to lighten the mood. She nodded, sitting politely on the couch, waiting for Toru to come in.

As I turned to retrieve some movies from my room, I felt a firm grip on my arm, pulling me into the bathroom. I let out a small shriek as I found myself face to face with Shoko and Hime. Osaka looked behind her to see no one. Confused, she looked both ways to see where you went, but saw no sight of you. She shrugged, thinking you just went back to your room. Little did she know, you were being investigated as to why you brought her here in the first place.

”Why is she here?!” Shoko demanded, her frustration evident.

”What do you mean?”

“Y/n, don’t play dumb. You shouldn’t have invited her! It’s only going to make things worse,” Hime interjected, her tone serious.

I listened to their concerns, but a part of me couldn't bear to exclude Osaka and Toru, no matter how much it hurt to see them together.

"I know, but I can’t just invite everyone over and not them. Besides, it’s not their fault that they fell in love with each other. I can’t hate them forever just because Toru chose her over me,” I reasoned, my voice tinged with sadness.

”Yes you can!” Shoko argued, but I shook my head. I placed my hand on theirs, looking them deep in the eyes.

“No, girls. Just because things are complicated doesn't mean we should shut them out," I interjected, recognizing their concerns but unwilling to let bitterness dictate our actions. "We've always valued our friendships and treated each other with kindness, no matter what. Let's not forget that now."

Shoko and Hime exchanged a silent glance, their expressions softening as they considered my words. After a moment, Shoko sighed and nodded in reluctant agreement. "Fine, but I'm keeping an eye on them," she declared, her protective instincts still in full force.

Hime offered a small smile of reassurance. "We'll stick together, no matter what," she affirmed, her loyalty unwavering.

With a collective understanding, we stepped out of the bathroom, ready to face the evening with resolve and unity.

As I opened the door to rejoin the others, a tall figure stood before me, catching me off guard. Another small shriek escaped my lips as I began to fall backwards. Thankfully, the tall figures hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me close to him.

”Woah, sorry n/n. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just wondering where you were when all I saw in your living room were Osaka and Toru,” Suguru explained, his eyes warm and apologetic.

Shoko, Hime, Osaka, and Toru observed the scene unfold, each reacting differently to the unexpected encounter.

Despite the mixed emotions swirling inside me, I managed a smile as Suguru pulled me into a comforting embrace.

“I’m just glad you're here, Sugu!” I said, grateful for his presence amidst the turmoil of conflicting emotions. Toru saw the warm embrace you gave to Suguru and couldn’t help but feel…off about it. Whatever that feeling was, he didn’t like how it felt.

“Let’s get this started already! I’m starving!” Shoko declared, eager to break the tension.

Suguru's arrival seemed to lighten the mood, and soon we were all gathered in the living room, ready to enjoy our movie night together.

———

As the night unfolded, laughter and conversation filled the air, creating a sense of warmth and connection that enveloped the group. Despite the initial awkwardness between you, Toru, and Osaka, the shared moments of joy and lighthearted teasing between everyone helped to bridge the divide, easing the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface.

As the movie played, you found yourself stealing glances at Suguru, noticing the way his eyes sparkled with amusement at a particularly funny scene. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you reveled in the easy comfort of his presence, grateful for the genuine connection you shared.

Meanwhile, Toru's gaze seemed to linger on you more often than not, a subtle shift that didn't go unnoticed by Suguru or your friends. Despite his efforts to engage with Osaka, there was an unmistakable tension in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken feelings that lingered between you and Toru.

———

As the evening wore on, Toru found himself increasingly preoccupied with the sight of you and Suguru. Despite the movie playing in the background, his attention was drawn to the quiet whispers and shared laughter between you two on the couch. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy as he observed the natural chemistry that seemed to flow effortlessly between you and Suguru.

He watched as Suguru poked your opposite shoulder to trick you into thinking Shoko tapped you. He watched as you playfully punched him, smiling at his tomfoolery. He watched you two ignore everything around you, acting as if you two were the only ones left in the world.

Each shared smile, every shared glance—it felt like a silent declaration of a bond that Toru couldn't quite comprehend. As much as he tried to focus on enjoying the movie night, his mind kept wandering back to you, to the way you leaned in closer to Suguru, your laughter ringing through the room like music to his ears.

And It wasn't just the laughter that stirred a sense of longing within Toru; it was the way you looked at Suguru with such genuine affection and admiration. It was as if you were sharing an inside joke, a secret language that excluded him from the intimacy you shared with Suguru.

Toru couldn't help but recall the times when it was him by your side, sharing those stolen moments of connection. He missed the easy bond you once shared, the way you would listen to him with unwavering attention, making him feel like the most important person in the room. He missed the way your eyes sparkled as he talked to you about the randomest things in the world, the way your giggle filled his chest with pride, the way your voice helped calm him down when he needed it most. He desperately missed you and the way you made him feel…and yet there you were, acting the same way around someone else that wasn’t him. As he watched you and Suguru, he couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider looking in.

As Osaka snuggled up to him, Toru was busy in his own mind as an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Despite her presence beside him, he found himself drifting into a reverie, reminiscing about moments shared with you.

"This movie is boring..." Osaka's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. He glanced up, noticing the familiar scenes unfolding before him. It was one of your favorite movies, a film you'd watched countless times together. The movie held little interest for him compared to the memories it evoked. The thought of you made him smile faintly, recalling how you'd eagerly convinced him to watch it, even if he had already seen it with you numerous times already.

The memory brought a sense of warmth and nostalgia, a stark contrast to the chill that seemed to permeate his current relationship. He remembered your playful insistence, your determination to lift his spirits and distract him from the burdens of his work. It was a small gesture, yet it spoke volumes about your caring nature and the depth of your bond.

As he watched the movie, snippets of moments spent with you replayed in his mind like scenes from a cherished film. He remembered the way you'd prepare his favorite snacks, your gentle touch as you comforted him through his worries, and the soothing sound of your voice as you reassured him that everything would be okay.

Despite his best efforts to focus on his current relationship, his heart couldn't help but yearn for the warmth and familiarity he found in your presence. And It was in that moment that Toru realized the depth of his feelings for you. You weren’t just a friend; You were someone he couldn't bear to lose. And yet, he couldn't deny the growing distance between them, a gap that seemed to widen with every stolen glance between you and Suguru.

As the night went on, Toru continued to find himself lost in his own thoughts, grappling with the realization that he might have let something precious slip through his fingers.

Little did he know, your feelings were also beginning to shift, your heart drawn towards Suguru in ways you never expected. And as the lines between friendship and something more blurred, the stage was set for a love triangle that would test the bonds of friendship and loyalty in ways none of you could have anticipated.

________________

Part IV coming soon? Depending on my school schedule (I hate you college!!)

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[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 23

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; a tad bit of angst; smidge of illness; all the pregnancy woes in the world; some suggestive dialogue A/N: There's some serious fluff in this. I tried so hard to keep Daryl in character while having him offer all he could to a person doing something precious for him. I hope I succeeded. The explanation of midnight blue is a little bit of self indulgence. It's my own favorite color and the reason why. I know I skipped the nursing home scene but I took the liberty of adding into the timeline somewhere as a mention.

The events of the day before had ended in the most amusing way, with you nearly inviting Carol in before getting dressed.

“She knows what tits and a vagina look like, Daryl.”

“She don’t know what my dick looks like, Y/N!”

“Touche, sir.”

All ended well and Carol saw no genitalia that fine day.

You had officially worn one another out. After the Tylenol and Carol’s snickers and knowing smiles, you and Daryl fell onto the pillows and slept until the next morning. The fever remained, albeit burning less and less hot each time the old man would look him over. His lungs were sounding better. Hershel removed the IV when the archer proved he could keep up with hydrating and promised to take it easy. Of course, he would. He had you as his warden. 

The next evening, after a bowl of hearty stew with the venison you had brought back,—two bowls for Daryl—you laid in bed. He wasn’t complaining, for once, and actually seemed to be close to falling asleep. It had been a relief to watch him eat well, even if he did try to share the second bowl. You were feeling a little nauseated, sharing that knowledge honestly when you turned down his offering. Your condition had definitely improved, the severity of the occurrences much less concerning. Things were actually okay. 

“Daryl?” You licked your suddenly dry lips but continued drawing patterns on his bare chest from your spot against his side with his arm wrapped around you. He hummed, his usual reply, eyes remaining closed while his thumb swept back and forth over your ribs. When you didn’t answer right away, he pulled you a little closer. It was unclear if it was intentional or not.

“What?” He cleared his throat, his voice still gravelly. 

“Can we—I’d like to know more about you.” Your timid request must have snagged his attention because he was shifting your bodies to lie face to face, one hand below his cheek and the other rubbing small circles just over where the baby had finally stopped tap dancing. He was giving you that look, the squinted eyes that scrutinized someone for any indication of dishonesty or hidden agenda. He should know you better than that by now, but you remained quiet.

“Whaddaya wanna know?” He finally queried, his hand going still but remaining where it was.

“Anything. Everything.” You shrugged your available shoulder. “If we’re gonna do this—be an us—then we need to know one another, don’t you think?” He started tapping a finger against your abdomen.

“S’your favorite color?”

You huffed a laugh through your nose, scrunching it with a smile. “Midnight blue. What’s yours?” He pulled a face, curiosity shining through.

“Why midnight?” He asked with a sniff, shuffling around a bit on the pillow.

“Because even though I know it isn’t, I like to think that’s the color of the night sky. Not black, but dark blue and full stars. Black is nothing, it’s lonely, but to think of it as blue. It’s a little more comforting.” The archer gave you a thoughtful look, the corner of his mouth ticking upward so minutely that anyone else would have missed it. Not you. “Now, what’s yours?”

He mimicked your earlier shrug. “Dunno. Don’t really got one, I guess.” Your silence beckoned him to explain. After moving his hand from below his cheek to chew on the side of his thumb, he eventually elaborated. “Grew up learnin’ to ‘preciate all’a ‘em. House was—it was always dark, ‘specially after mama died. When my old man—I spent a lot’a time outside. Noticed things. Blue sky’d turn a bit purple before it’d snow, even if it was just a lil’. Grass—it’d be green but have those brown pieces where I’d walk all’a the time. Creek looked muddy unless ya stood in it. Then ya’d see the bottom an’ how the water’d catch the light. Sometimes it’d be blue, sometimes kinda green. Just depended on the day.” His gaze had dropped away from you at some point, focused on the miniscule area of bed sheets between your bodies.

You were glad for it because your eyes had started to fill and shine. You were granted the opportunity to blink back the tears before he looked up. Daryl was so much more than anyone had given him credit for, than anyone had been willing to learn. Carol had told you a story about an exchange with Andrea, when she had taken a jab at what she thought was his limited vocabulary.

“Get a dictionary. Look it up. Observant.”

“D’ya like dogs or cats?” He asked so suddenly that you nearly flinched, realizing that you had just been staring at some point past his head for an undetermined amount of time. There was no way he hadn’t noticed.

“I like both, but I’m a dog person.” You frowned. Having a dog would probably be something your child would never get to experience. “You?”

“Dogs. Cats ain’t trustworthy.” It was such an amusing thing to say with such a straight face. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Wait, I need to hear this.” You caught him staring at your lips, maybe watching you laugh or maybe he wanted to kiss you. Both? You pretended not to notice. 

“Dogs’re smart but cats’re calculated. Make ya think they’re all innocent when they ain’t. Always up to somethin’.”

“What I’m hearing is that you’re afraid of cats.” You smirked, absently reaching to run your fingers through his hair. Daryl made a disgruntled sound and shook his head to stave off your attempts.

“Ain’t afraid’a ‘em. Just don’t trust ‘em.”

“Right.” You nodded, face falling into feigned seriousness before it became real, your next question burning inside your chest, just below the fear you’d need to surpass to ask. He was likely to shut down the session, maybe even close off completely. You could always hope he’d begun to trust you enough to open up, even if only a little, but the prospect suddenly seemed so far away. “Daryl.”

“Ask.” He was looking right into your eyes with a hint of determination you’d seen before when the circumstances were different, dire even. Was that how he saw this? A dire situation that could result in you being gone in some way?

“Who—what happened?” You let a single fingertip press gently against the deepest scar on his chest, your eyes lingering on it for but a moment before you contradicted his intensity with tenderness. Not pity, but a gentle curiosity. A request to allow you to understand.

“My dad—he was never a good man.” He swallowed hard. “Got worse after mama died. She drank. Fell asleep with a smoke, burned up in our house.” His fingers were plucking at the small space between you, a fine tremor in his hand. He pulled it out of your reach when you reached for it. “Didn’t know what to do with us, I guess. Me an’ Merle—my brother.” The brother that Rick had left behind in Atlanta, the brother who was likely dead. Yet another relative your baby would never know. “Merle tried to—he’d take the beatin’ when he could, did his best. Booked it outta there when he couldn't take it no more. Joined the army.” His eyes were wet, but he sniffed and cleared his throat. “Wasn't nothin’ standin’ between me an’ the old man then—between me an’ the belt. The cigarettes.” He fell silent, clearly finished with talking about his parents.

“Tell me about Merle?” You ventured, shot down with a shake of his head against the pillow.

“Ain’t your turn.” He sniffed again. “Your mama—tell me ‘bout your mama.” It wasn’t exactly a question, more of a soft demand; an it’s only fair. You didn’t mind. You’d accepted her abandonment long ago. You had been content with the amazing father with whom you were gifted.

“She booked it. We didn’t have a lot of money, and she never really wanted me in the first place. Tucked tail and ran the first chance she got.” You shrugged, unbothered beyond the twinge of guilt you felt for being so okay with the hand you had been dealt while Daryl struggled to even think about his past. “I didn’t even miss her. I mean, it sucked at first. I always felt bad, watching daddy struggle. So, I learned to help and that was that.”

He was so obviously jealous, yet another emotion that he didn't know how to process. You saw the anger flare before he doused it, returning to a solemn state of silence. He was awaiting your question, wherein you found a dilemma. Did you push through the conversation about his family? Or did you switch to something else, give him a break? 

“Thank you for trusting me.” When you reached for him then, he didn’t pull away. His mask cracked and a few pieces fell away, but he held the rest steady. “That’s enough for now, okay? If you have more questions, I’ll answer them. Gladly. But you’ve shared enough, okay?” When he studied you, you didn’t let him proceed with his usual scrutiny. “It’s fine, Daryl. We can talk more when—if—you ever want to again. You don’t need to tell me anything else.”

He accepted the out with a long exhale and a nod, his gaze falling away. You embraced the silence and its discomfort, just touching him while he was in a place to allow it. You stroked his cheek, the stubble thicker than usual with his confinement to the bed. You smoothed his hair, scratched gently over his scalp. Finally, you scooted closer and pulled him toward you to meet in the middle. Tangling your legs around his, you guided his head to rest under your chin. He let you without complaint or denial, a testament to how he had silently endured when he needed comforting.

The two of you laid there, his breaths evening out to the point where you thought he had fallen asleep. Then, breaking the silence, he cleared his throat. “Why me?” You pulled back just enough to angle your head and look at him.

“Why you what?”

“Why ya settlin’ with me? We can raise a kid together without you givin’ up a chance with someone better.” He took a deep breath, keeping his head down. “I won’t hold ya to it if ya change your mind later—if someone shows—”

“There’s no one better.” You nearly snapped at him, your tone harsher than you’d ever meant for it to be. He flinched and you instantly hated yourself for it. You’d seen someone’s quick movements earn that reaction before, but words hardly affected Daryl physically, not like that. “Daryl.” You silently pleaded with him to look at you, but were left disappointed. “There’s no one better.” You repeated, so softly that it was almost a whisper, your breath disturbing his hair. “I want to raise this baby with you. I want to be with you. I love you. That’s not gonna change.”

He simply hummed, the sound reverberating against your throat. You wanted to throttle him, but none of his self-deprecation was his fault. You hated people you didn’t even know for it. “Don’t deserve all this.” Your brow furrowed deeply at his words. “Feel like m’gettin’ somethin’ meant for someone else. Like m’takin’—” The words died on the tip of his tongue. What could you even say to that? You could tell him he deserved the world—the fucking universe—but he’d never believe it. You’d just have to show him. It would take time and patience that would likely be tested over and over, but he was worth it.

“You’ll see.” You settled back against him, let silence fall between you again. After a while, he actually did fall asleep, the tension you had noticed in him finally melting away into a restful state he so desperately needed in order to continue getting well. A kiss was pressed into his hair. You never fell asleep yourself, simply lying there with him. Your heart ached yet it was full. With your fingers traveling up and down his back in gentle motions you hoped were comforting even within his dreams, you told him again. “You’ll see.”

Daryl was coughing strenuously by the time you reached the truck, his hand pressed hard against his chest. The cold air, the rush of grabbing up all the bags, the running from the herd—it was taking its toll on his still healing body.

“Keys.” You demanded. “I’m driving.”  You could see it on his face that he was going to argue, but he doubled over in another fit of coughs and deep, wheezing gasps. Digging in his pocket through the ordeal, he tossed you the keyring. The bags you two were responsible for were tossed into the back next to the bike. It took the archer two attempts to pull himself onto the bench seat, which required the effort of both your bodies to move back in order to accommodate your 30 week bump. Just as your door closed, a discolored hand slapped against the window, startling you into a shout.

The van was already moving when you pressed the gas to peel out behind it, mowing down at least three walkers. Dark blood splattered onto the windshield, smearing but mostly washing away when you used the partially frozen fluid and wipers. Daryl’s forehead was against the dashboard as he fought to catch his breath in the chilled air. You were fumbling for the temperature controls when he smacked your hand away.

“Just—just drive. I got it.” He rasped, the warming air filling the cab a moment later. His back thudded against the seat, shaking it slightly, his head falling back against the headrest with his eyes closed. He was finally sucking in gulps of air into irritated, partially healed lungs. When you reached a point that was safe enough to pull off, you would make sure the group remembered his state of health and didn’t travel for too long before finding anything suitable and safe enough for a stay of at least a few days. “Quit your worryin’, woman. M’good.”

“Just don’t, Daryl.” You argued quietly, desperate to keep the peace between the pair of you that you’d managed to create. “Let me worry. If you don’t fight me on it, I’ll be less likely to do something stupid.” You glanced over, finding his head rolled toward you, his jaw set but he relented with a jerk of his head.

“Fine. Just have ‘em find whatever. S’long as it keeps your ass right here beside me.” 

You smiled and silently celebrated your victory, even as he noticed and grumbled beside you. When you placed your hand, palm up, on the seat between you, only a heartbeat passed before you felt him squeezing your fingers.

Roughly eight weeks left, though Hershel said you could safely deliver if you made it at least four more weeks. You were actually becoming slightly miserable. The nausea would come and go, though you actually vomited less and less. Your ankles were missing completely under the puffy skin. Your belly felt so heavy that even just standing was becoming a chore. Lori was sympathetic, constantly giving you advice. Not only you but Daryl as well. You had seen her whispering to him, watched the way he would go completely still, not looking at her but listening intently. Rick could give him all the advice in the world but Lori’s input was crucial. She knew exactly what you needed.

The archer argued with you less and less, though you could see the restraint it took for him to bite his tongue, sometimes literally. He let you hunt with him because you were restless. Lori had said it was because of the urge to start nesting, which you had found amusing, but Daryl already knew about it because of the damn books he continued to snatch up on runs. Why it frustrated you that he was willing to go that extra mile was beyond your comprehension. Maybe because he knew more about what was going on with your body than you did? You should have been grateful, but all you wanted to do was kick him in the shins.

“Can ya just—nevermind.” He grunted from behind you while the two of you tracked some turkeys. You knew they’d be in the trees for the cold weather so you kept your eyes upward, irritating the hunter when you would nearly trip or run into something. Still, he kept his cool, which was admirable for your hot-headed partner. Daryl didn’t like the term boyfriend, you’d discovered during a brief conversation where you’d found your tongue looser than normal and spilling out questions you’d otherwise never ask. The two of you had settled on being partners, though you didn’t feel it was enough to describe your relationship. He had simply shrugged.

You couldn’t hunt with a gun. He’d all but forbade it. Too loud, would draw walkers. So he found you a bow. Not a crossbow but a traditional one. It didn’t take much practice. You only needed to become familiar with the tension of the string, how far to pull for the trajectory and speed needed. Aiming came naturally.

“Shut up, Daryl. I’m fine.” You snapped, instantly muttering an apology. It was but wasn’t his fault you felt so crappy. It took two to make the baby whose little foot or hand or whatever was always pressing into your ribs. You were just as responsible and tried to remember that even when it was you and not him that felt like absolute shit most of the time. As if the world was hellbent on fucking with you, the toe of your boot found its way beneath an exposed root and you nearly faceplanted. If not for Daryl’s constant observance, you surely would have.

He snagged your bicep, dropping his crossbow to reach across your chest and grip your other shoulder. All you needed was a dislocated shoulder when you were already so beyond miserable. He made sure you stayed on your feet, nearly stumbling himself, but saying nothing when you found his irritated but concerned gaze. The weight of it instantly brought on the sniffling you knew was about to lead to a breakdown.

Over the course of only three weeks, the archer had memorized the signs and adapted, learning how to soothe you even at the expense of his own comfort. He immediately pulled you into his arms as close as he could with your ever-growing belly between you, shushing you and rubbing your back. 

“S’alright. I won’t letcha fall.”

Noble as his intentions were, that only seemed to stir up even more guilt. “I don’t know why I can’t just listen when you tell me I should stay behind! Why do you let me just do whatever I want even when you know it’s the wrong choice?!” You rubbed your wet face against his button up, leaving a dark spot and not for the first time.

“Cause you’re hard-headed an’ feelin’ like crap. Only make ya feel worse for me to argue with ya.”

And just like that, the switch flipped. “I’m not hard-headed, Daryl! I’m fucking capable and everyone wants to treat me like I’m gonna break!” You pushed him away roughly and stomped forward, sniffling harder than necessary. You heard a sigh from behind you, the sound of him picking up his crossbow and before following at a distance.

When you shot down the turkey, even beyond the pride you felt carrying it back, something told you that he saw it first but didn’t even raise his weapon.

Carol had heated some water for you so you could wipe down, feeling like your skin was crawling after being in the woods all day. It was a foreign feeling for the leaves and cool, fresh air to feel like it stuck to your flesh and needed to be scrubbed away. You were a mess. Your body hurt and you constantly needed to pee. You were irritable. You’d want Daryl to fuck you one minute and then shove him away the moment he touched the slick apex of your thighs. You were torturing the poor man who didn’t have a clue how to provide the type of comfort you needed when he couldn’t even process how to overcome his own lack of it growing up.

You didn’t hear him enter the room as you bowed over the small sink in the dusty bathroom, your skin still damp beneath your long sleeved shirt and flannel sleep pants. You had washed your hair to the best of your ability, the wet strands forming a curtain around your face that blocked your view of the door. You didn’t startle when you felt the heat of his body behind you. It was familiar at that point in a way you couldn’t explain.

“I’m so sorry, Daryl.” You whispered, the syllables of his name coming out as a soft whimper. His hands settled on your hips, fingers flexing nervously.

“S’okay.” He stepped closer and you fully expected to feel his erection press against your ass, but that wasn’t the case. There was only the firm safety of his body, your human security blanket. “Wanna—can I try somethin’?” His voice shook beside your ear but his hands remained steady, digits still squeezing and releasing. Not trusting your voice, you nodded, his exhale warm against your neck.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t his warm palms sliding beneath your belly and lifting with more gentleness than you were aware a human being could possess. The absence of the weight pulling down was an instant relief, your muscles turning to jello. You leaned back against him and he kept you upright, silently offering you comfort and succor that your body didn’t even know it needed.

“Fuck.” You breathed, eyes fluttering closed and head laying back against his shoulder. The tears came when his lips pressed against your temple, wordlessly expressing his gratitude for what you were enduring. “Thank you.” Your own appreciation trembled over your lips, whether toward the man at your back or a god you weren’t sure you believed in for putting him there.

[golden1u5t]

mistakes | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: angst + fluff

ꨄ summary: you and spencer break up because he chose to believe someone else over you.

you phone had rang a million times, eventually you turned it off because you were tired of seeing the same name pop up each time: spencer. you couldn't imagine why he'd kept calling you over and over if he was the one who broke up with you because he thought you had cheated on him.

when everything had happened, you tried to explain to him that you didn't cheat and you were at home the entire day and the picture he saw was a picture from years ago. you don't know who sent the picture to him but it was a picture someone you used to know took of you at a party kissing some guy, it was old and way before spencer.

you hadn't gotten out of bed in a few days, only to shower and brush your teeth. your friends, really only one because the rest of your friends were spencer's friends and they absolutely hated you at the moment, came over to make sure you were okay.

a knock on your door pulled you away from your bed, you figured it was just your friend but when you opened the door it most definitely wasn't. spencer stood at the door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, he was drenched

from the rain pouring.

you were upset with him and hurt but you weren't about to let him stand out there and get sick. "what is wrong with you? get in here before you get sick!"

"why are you here?" you crossed your arms over your chest and glanced over his entire frame. spencer held the flowers out for you to grab, you hesitatingly took them from him and brought them up to your nose.

you knew why he was here, to apologize and try to get you back. quiet frankly, you would problaby go back to him just because he'd only broken up with you a few days ago and because spencer is honestly the best man you've ever met and been with.

"you were at home, like you said. i should've believed you, i'm sorry. just- can we talk about this- us?" he pushed his hair out of his face. you stared at him for a few minutes before nodding your head.

what's the worst that could happen?

"i'm sure you still have some clothes here and because i'm not a horrible person, you can go shower and stay here until the storm passes." you mumbled and moved past him.

when spencer got out of the shower, he found you sitting in the living room scrolling through your phone. you looked up when you felt the couch dip beside you. you shifted on the couch until your body was sideways on it, you drew your legs up to your chest and stared expectingly at him.

"better get to talking before you're walking home in the rain."

spencer had to suppress the smile threatening to show, he liked that you were still just as snappy as before. he cleared his throat and started to tap his hand against his pants.

"i'm so unbelievably sorry. I should have believed you when you told me that the picture was old, I shouldn't have believed an unknown number before you." he looked down to his hands before looking back up, you hummed in agreement and continued to stare at him.

"i'm sorry that I ruined everything we had, it was a huge mistake and i realize that now. i've hardly slept since everything happened. you were the only person that stayed with me despite my job being the way it is."

"because i love you, that's why I dealt with it. when you came to me with those accusations, i wish you could've felt what I felt. ive never felt a heartbreak like that before." you wrapped your arms around your legs. it was silent for a few minutes, just you and him staring at each other, thought's racing in your minds.

"would you ever consi-"

"yes," you didn't even let him get the question out because you already knew what he would say. yes, you would consider getting back together with him and really there would be no thinking about it. "in a heart beat. i would get back with you because I love you and- and even though you hurt me, i still understand why you did it."

spencer opened his mouth to say something but you held up your hand because you weren't done. "i know that i'm your first real relationship and your vulnerable when it comes to me, you'll believe anything that's believable. you've seen what's happened with other's relationships because of your job so it's only reasonable that deep down you would be scared that i would cheat or find someone better, if that's even possible."

"you should become a profiler with your ability to read people." he couldn't help but crack a small joke but he knew that you were right, everything you said was true and there was no denying it. you let your legs down and nudged his thigh.

"i was thinking about it, really. i mean, id get to be with you every second of the day. didn't you say your boss was looking to fill a spot?" you reasoning was absolutely horrible but it made spencer laugh, a sound you'd missed hearing.

you moved closer to him and wrapped your arms around him. the second your skin touched his, he pulled you into him and held you so tight you almost couldn't breath.

"god, i missed you so much. i'll never to that again." he breathed, you nodded the best you could.

“you better not, i won't forgive you as easily if you do."

[gingeraleluke]

hey babes :) if you’re taking requests, could you do a jackie and steven hyde type of thing but with vinnie x reader?? i just love them sm ;(

𝗵𝘆𝗱𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗲

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: hyde!vinnie x jackie!reader

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: “i like shiny things, but i’d marry you with paper rings.”

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: ENEMIES TO LOVERS!! angst, fluff, 70’s!bad boy!stoner!mean!vinnie (he’s hyde, duh), very brief drinking/marijuana use, offensive language (it’s the 70’s), cheating, some sexual content, light violence, typical that 70’s show behaviors!! spoilers for that 70’s show

𝗔/𝗡: SUPER LONG! this is literally just a bunch of hyde and jackie scenes, except with reader and vinnie inserted (some things are different obviously to keep it more original & entertaining but pretty much the same) and i kept the characters from that 70’s show and everything else the same so if you haven’t watched that 70’s show, you’ll probably be confused -> ps: since everyone calls steven by his last name in the show, so vinnie gets called hacker a lot in this!

you can also read the old kelso!vinnie fic i wrote here

this is a request that i got two years ago before i went on break. since i am a huge that 70’s show fan and steven hyde obsessed (fuck the actor), i just couldn’t help myself from writing so much.

i had a lot more planned for this but since it’s thanksgiving, i figured i’d leave it there, so let me know if you want a part two! i love and missed you guys <3 i hope you enjoy!

wondering where ive been and why it took so long? click here. 🩷

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

── ★ ˙ ̟𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦 ──

“he’s better than you in every conceivable way.” the confidence was staggering in her voice but she was speaking faster than she was thinking, and she’d be damned if michael got the last laugh.

sure, every girl dreamed of prom, but not like y/n did. in fact, y/n would honestly cease to function, burn out and die if she didn’t get the magical romantic night that she had been planning ever since she could walk. if she could she’d get her daddy to pay off michael to just stop being such an idiot and take her to prom instead, but as always her father was busy and frankly no where to be found. maybe a simple phone call his way would work, but than again she’d already opened her mouth and once y/n starts yapping, she can’t just stop.

her father would most likely go on about how poor and dumb the kelso’s were and insist she bring someone else to be arm candy for— and then she’d go on her ‘but daddy, i love him’ speech for the millionth time— the nonsensical idea was still better than sitting there and acknowledging the mess that she was making with her statements, but could you blame her?

i mean, pam macey? seriously? it was almost offensive that that was what micheal was so giddy suddenly about. if he wants to take that slut to the prom, than so be it.

y/n y/l/n could do better than her mediocre ex —michael kelso, anyways.

it is her world at the end of the day and everyone else was just living in it. a date to prom shouldn’t be hard to find. a girl like that is someone you’d be a fool not to be bending over backwards for.

once michael exclaimed how ‘that could be anybody’ before bursting out of donna’s front door, she knew she’d got him right where she wanted him. she loved making kelso feel like an idiot, especially when he was one (which was a lot).

her satisfied grin was quickly replaced with a pout as she gazed down at the fake fruit in the bowl center of the counter she sat at, analyzing her brain for any ideas as to what she was going to do.

she wasn’t sure what led her to the spot beside vinnie on the couch of eric foreman’s basement, but once she was seated there, she immediately began sighing absentmindedly while pretending to watch the movie on the small tv in front of them.

hacker’s legs were up on the table, his signature boots beside discarded objects scattered along the surface and his face didn’t seem to move a muscle at the girl beside him. breathing in again, she let out a louder sigh, her behavior and noises progressively becoming more dramatic and less easy to ignore.

time seemed to slow down when finally, arms still crossed, vinnie sucked his teeth and hesitantly replied, eyes glued to the screen.

“y/n, if i ask you what’s wrong will you stop doing that?”

the girl threw up her hands, defeatedly—“it’s the prom. stupid michael is taking stupid pam macey and now i don’t have a date, but i told him i did, and im a complete loser.” huffing, she mirrored vinnie, crossing her arms against her chest.

she was met with immediate laughter from the tattooed boy. still looking ahead, his chuckles grew, up until he saw the girl beside him staring at him, distraught with the most pathetic look on her face. quickly clearing his throat, he feined a smile and replied with “no you’re not!”

body language still clearly dying for this moment to be over and for the smaller girl to leave, she continued on. “it’s just that…i thought that he was gonna ask me, and now anyone who’s anyone is going, and i don’t have a date.”

“you’re right, i heard it was gonna be fun.” he claimed, sarcasm completely flying under the girls radar.

“how would you know, you’re not even going?!” the realization hit her. shocked, she put her hands to her face, making eye contact with vinnie for the first time since she arrived in the basement.

“you’re not going, oh my god. you don’t have a date…..and i bet you’d clean up nice!” she smirked. he could practically see the gears turning in her head and adjusted his focus back to the tv.

“i do. but i won’t.” he deadpanned, hoping she’d just leave it there.

but did rich, spoiled, princess y/n y/l/n ever just ‘leave it there?’ of course not!

“look, i know we’ve had our differences—“ she shifted, moving towards vinnie and putting a hand on his arm to garner more of his attention, hoping he’d take her seriously if he saw how upset she was.

“y/n, we’ve had nothing but differences. in fact, don’t we kind of hate each other?” he dismissed her, pointing out the obvious that she had purposefully been avoiding.

it was true, y/n and vinnie never got along. why would they? he was a poor misfit who was covered in tattoos and only ever cared about weed and had a fate for either dying alone or in prison— while she was a rich girl, born with a name for herself, constantly striving to be the center of attention and doing whatever she could to achieve her goals— although it felt like it more so followed her around since everything was always just so easy with her.

nothing was ever easy with hacker.

“yes, but this is the prom!” she sobbed, clutching onto him and leaning into his chest, feeling the fabric of his jacket shifting below her as he centered himself.

“y/n…come on. stop!” he demanded gently, the girl a bundled mess in his lap, continuing to cry and while some of it was hysterics, real tears were threatening to spill at the thought of not having a date. “oh, come on..” she had him right where she wanted him, “look, do you wanna go to the prom?!” he snapped, the softness leaving his voice.

“yes.” she composed herself, watching him roll his eyes while he leaned over to rest his head against his hand. while his attention was back on the television, y/n’s presence stayed.

“thank you.” she fixed her hair, watching the grimace appear on his face in response to what he had just done, or more so agreed to do.

“yeah, yeah. shut up.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

wearing a long, purple dress and hair done up with white flowers, y/n stood at her dates door. the fabric flowed beautifully on her as if she was a painting and a part of her was excited to see michael’s reaction to it.

if only he’d been my date.

vinnie’s mom had been yelling profanities from inside their house while he had been trying to slip away to meet y/n. the girl could hear the older woman reciting ‘carrie’ quotes from behind the walls when he finally emerged from behind the door.

“SHUT UP, MA! YOU’RE MAKING THE NIGHT TOO DAMN SPECIAL!” he called back, opening the glass door and smiling at y/n as if he wasn’t just shouting back at his mother. the door slammed and he stood before the girl, a box in his hands, wearing a suit that matched hers. ruffles of the same purple color from her dress, adorned his toned chest, hidden under a large velvet bow tie. “wow, you look beautiful.”

his words had caught her off guard, the sincerity in his voice snapping her back from her thoughts. “you too.” it was true, he did. y/n never thought she’d see the day where vinnie hacker wore anything even remotely elegant, much less a tailored matching suit. she became nervous, and fiddled with her fingers beneath the sheer gloves she wore. “should—do you want me to say hi to your..?”

“oh no, trust me. shes lovely.” he quickly guided her down the steps of his house, “let’s just go, alright?”

a sigh left his lips while the box he held caught her eye as it shimmered in the moonlight. “is that for me?” she pointed, watching him outstretch his hands to give it to her.

“oh, uh…yeah.”

“oh my god, vinnie. this is beautiful.” she grasped the box wrapped in golden paper, seeing the corsage peeking through the window of it. “you know, this whole thing has taught me that i really don’t need michael to go to the prom. i can go with anyone…even you.” she licked her lips, tasting her strawberry and kiwi lip gloss before leaning in. “thanks.”

what vinnie assumed was gonna be a hug, was instead a chaste kiss to his cheek. bewildered by the sudden and foreign intimacy, they backed away from each other before the boy spoke up.

“yeah let’s not do that.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“look, you wanna be with her and she wants to be with you so how about you quit acting like a baby, man up and go be with each other!” vinnie took a swing of the punch he had poured, “cause this whole thing sickens me!” grimacing and brushing off kelso, until the lanky boy made his way to y/n’s table, momentarily forgetting about pam macey, his date.

vinnie had spent the prom beside his date, showing little to no enthusiasm but just enough to keep her on her feet. he posed for photos with her, constantly belittled pam’s appearance for her (despite it being all lies), and even slow danced with the girl, but it was no use. her body was sending noiseless complaints and groans of misery while she stared longingly at her ex boyfriend, who was staring back just as much as her despite the blonde woman in his arms. vinnie made his way to get y/n some punch when michael approached him, pulling out the ‘bros before hoes’ card and exclaiming ‘how could you’s?!’ after going on about how he thought him and vinnie were friends, the boy in purple finally interrupted, explaining his actions with a simple ‘she was crying, man!’

he maneuvered his way into the open seat beside pam macey, her face as blank and thoughtless as ever. quickly pulling out a pick up line along the lines of ‘let’s get out of here and have sex in a car’, he ushered her out of the building. looking back once more at y/n who was already chipper at the sight of michael beside her, leaning in and kissing him on the dance floor, vinnie adjusted his tie and droned out the blondes chatter as he followed.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

── ★ ˙ ̟𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥 ──

eric, fez, and vinnie were seated in the foreman’s basement when y/n burst through the door with jagged, weak breaths. she ran all the way there with barely an idea as to what she was going to do, all she knew was that she had to find eric.

“eric, i just saw michael kissing your sister! okay, he’s a rat! he’s been cheating on me!” she struggled to keep her calm while the three boys gazed up at her, vinnie’s gaze more apathetic than the other two boys.

“what? no!” eric pretended to be surprised while continuing to shuffle cards mindlessly. he was in the middle of a game, vinnie and fez still holding their cards in hand. everyone but y/n and donna knew about kelso’s affair with eric’s sister. it was like a bomb just waiting to drop. he’d continuously complain to the group about how difficult it was juggling two girls at once and was constantly trying to make it work until he realized he needed to end it with laurie.

fez’s curiosity at y/n’s words were peaked and he shifted towards her, just waiting for the moment to come to the rescue. “surely there must be some kind of mistake!” eric lowered his cards and his voice was laced with a humorous undertone that made y/n feel like she was completely out of the loop. “right guys!?” he slapped vinnie on the chest, hitting his sweater while he sat there mouth agape.

“wow..sure is a mind blower!” it was the same fake voice that vinnie used when he spoke to y/n kindly. if it wasn’t some backhanded comment, it was meaningful criticism being hurled at her— his distain in the girl was apparent at all times. the same voice he used when he had to respond to red and kitty about weed and the dangers of it. fake enthusiasm.

“does that mean you and kelso are over?” fez stood up, letting the cards land on the table. y/n took in his puzzled appearance, “yes!”

“like…by over you mean..?”

“forever! i never wanna see him again, fez! this is way more than just taking pam macey to the prom— i mean laurie?! lying about that to me? and setting my house on fire? this whole time i’ve been putting up with him and he goes and does that, i mean?!” she groaned, her puffer jacket feeling progressively hot as she found herself in a steep slope that lead to tears and violence. she wanted to slap someone the more she thought back at the situation.

“to be fair, that’s only the stuff you know about.” vinnie quipped from his seat on the chair beside the couch. eric quickly swatted him with his hand while fez remained looking at the girl with puppy eyes. her blood was boiling, like hacker couldn’t get any more unlikable.

shaking her head in annoyance, she ground her teeth while spinning on her heels back to the door she entered from, knowing that if she stayed she’d end up throwing something at the cocky boy in leather. she made her way to donna’s house.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

after having time to reflect, or at least pretend to, y/n made peace with michael’s actions. she stood once again in the basement, ranting on about the breakup and her new desires to eric and donna who were cuddled on the couch.

“you sure you’re changed? because you’re yapping like the old you.” vinnie said, hand in the freezer behind her to pull out a popsicle. while he walked back to the edge of the couch, the door to the basement swung open, revealing y/n’s disheveled ex.

“y/n..can we talk?” it was like no one else was in the room, the way kelso’s brown eyes only gravitated towards the girl in question.

“i’m here, why not?”

“andd with that i think we should—“ eric grabbed onto donna, beginning to rise from their seat on the couch as they realized the intimate moment that was about to make way.

“uh, foreman?” vinnie halted him, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back to the couch before sitting on the arm rest. “come on now.” he patted eric’s shoulder before taking a lick of the yellow popsicle in his hand, watching over at the broken couple and waiting for them to start bickering.

of course he was entertained.

“look, y/n, i know i messed up. i mean, i did so many things that i don’t even know where to start.”

“woah, hey! give it a shot at least, i’ll help you fill in the blanks.” vinnie interrupted kelso, continuing to eat his popsicle while smirking at the situation his friend had finally fallen in. he’d been waiting for it to finally come to light and here it was.

donna had to keep vinnie at bay while michael was shooting his shot at an apology, but every time y/n looked at him, she couldn’t help but see him and eric’s sister in that kitchen kissing again. it was like a stain on him that was driving her insane.

“i don’t forgive you kelso. i don’t want to be with you again, okay? we are done. forever.”

“woah, didn’t see that coming!” vinnie leaped off the edge of the couch, hiding his grin with the yellow treat in hand before kelso bolted out of the door again, stomping. he caught a glimpse of the tears on his face, along with the new ones that were pouring down y/n’s.

“so um…” she could feel three sets of eyes on her, all shocked at her decision and not knowing how to comfort her. she laughed at herself for being so stupid.

“that was the smartest thing i’ve ever done! and um…” she gulped, grasping her hands together and trying to keep her lip from quivering. “it’s for the best…” her mascara was clumping through her vision and the sight of donna’s sympathetic gaze was too much to handle.

she whined, completely breaking down. the couple stood up, arms open while eric cooed words of comfort and donna was preparing to hold her crying friend, but y/n made a b line straight to vinnie.

“hacker!” she cried, walking by the two and wrapping her arms around the tall boys torso. he looked over at the others for help, stunned while holding onto his popsicle in one hand. she sobbed into his neck, standing on her tippy toes to reach him.

he didn’t hug back and was instead appalled, but y/n found comfort in his presence anyways.

“why does she always come to me?” he questioned, carefully putting his hand at the back of her waist, his touch light like she was contagious.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

some time had passed, and after breaking up with kelso, y/n found herself constantly going to vinnie for comfort, despite him being the least comforting person on the planet.

he didn’t know what to do. he’d tried everything to get her to stop and talk to donna instead or just be like him and keep it bottled up inside, but y/n wouldn’t take. it was at the point where he would just pretend to be someone else whenever she spoke to him. that’s what he was doing now, folding his laundry while the girl sat on top of the foreman’s washing machine, going on about michael like always.

he smiled and gave her the cheapest advice and response possible, taking everything at face value. “yeah, i suppose that it’s important that when you have a bad breakup.. that you find friends,” he grabbed another one of his graphic tees, folding it, “that uh..sympathetic…uh…stuff.” he huffed, bending over to grab another shirt from the machine. “for support and uh…yeah..i don’t know.” he smiled.

“right…so, let’s go to the mall!” she offered, excited at the idea of hanging out with someone. sure she loved shopping, but having someone with her to shower her in compliments made it a thousand times better.

she wasn’t sure what it was that made her gravitate towards vinnie at this time. maybe it’s because he’s the only person who didn’t treat her like she was special and instead, criticized her and was brutally honest. something about it made her feel more human. whatever the reason was, she undoubtedly only wanted to be with hacker at this time.

“no— i meant friends like donna! or.. not me!” grabbing his laundry, y/n followed him into his room at the back of the basement. she’d never really been in there before, since vinnie moved in with the foreman’s.

he rolled his eyes as he heard her steps behind him. “but, i noticed that you’re alone a lot! and now i’m alone a lot! so let’s just be alone together!” he turned to face her after placing his clothes on the bed, seeing her in his room felt so out of place. “look, we’re even alone right now! it’s not so bad!”

“i’d beg to differ.” he huffed, continuing to walk away from her. once they were out of his room, she had managed to get him to agree to hang out with her. sure, he was only going since she offered to pay for his food and let him drive her dads fancy car, but a win was a win for y/n.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

after a workable trip to the mall, the two made their ways back to the car. now, sitting in the passenger seat, was y/n complimenting the new boots that she’d bought vinnie. she bought them partly because his current clothes were hideous and she was embarrassed to be seen with someone dressed like that with clothes you could only find in a bargain bin— but she also enjoyed spending money on people she cared about.

she was so used to constantly feeding and clothing michael, paying for every little thing he needed and didn’t need, that it almost felt wrong to not buy vinnie something. sure, he wasn’t her boyfriend to spoil with gifts, but that same urge she felt for michael, she felt for him.

the first sign that maybe she liked vinnie more than she expected to.

once y/n started talking about plans for tomorrow, vinnie stopped her with a chuckle. “okay, alright now!come on now, y/n. this was a one time only thing, alright?”

she could feel her stomach drop at his words, “if you’re trying to bribe me with these boots, man, you can just take them back.”

“oh..i see.” she tried to keep her head up, ignoring the pain that she felt in her chest. even her $400 fur coat she wore couldn’t hide the hurt inside.

“oh, what are you gonna do now? cry?” he mocked, playfully. while she peered out the window of the passenger seat, vinnie’s face dropped in realization. his brown eyes studied her face, looking her up and down to see the look of devastation written all over it.

“oh, man..you’re crying.” the boys usual rough demeanor softened slightly and he didn’t drop his gaze, instead leaning closer to her. “hey..y/n! come on, it’s gonna be fine, alright?”

vinnie wrapped his arm around her shoulder, silently begging her to look at him. when he completely dropped his cool guy act and started comforting her more intimately than ever before, y/n didn’t know what to do. “you’re gonna be okay, alright?” he murmured softly, pushing a few strands of hair from her face and behind her ear. “this whole thing, it’s gonna be fine alright?”

once y/n made eye contact with him, she couldn’t stop herself from leaning in, putting her hand on his cheek and letting her lips touch his for a millisecond before he pulled away, frantically.

“NO! bad y/n!”

“but..you’re alone and i was alone—“

“look, y/n..i’m trying to help you out here okay? i’m not gonna take advantage of you like this.” y/n swallowed, not letting him continue.

“vinnie-“

“no, listen. you need to understand that you can do so much better than kelso. i know you’re upset but it’s gonna be okay.”

“but what if i don’t find anyone else…” she asked.

“you will, man! you’ll find somebody great!” his words were sincere and reassuring, as opposed to the way he usually spoke to her.

“see, i myself? don’t like you.”

and she spoke to soon.

“i find you abrasive,” he continued, “but if i didn’t know you, and i had never talked to you… i’d think you were totally hot.”

and with that, she felt a million times better.

“thank you, hacker.”

“anything for you, princess.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

later that night, vinnie made his way to the basement with two bottles of coke, finding y/n standing there, looking at fez and kelso.

“hey, what’s going on?” he asked, eyes darting between the girl he’d just been with and her ex boyfriend as he handed her the coke he’d grabbed for her.

“nothing! nothing at all.” she exclaimed, smiling back at kelso before looking down at vinnie who was now seated. “thank you hacker for tonight. it was very special.” with that, she leaned down and gave him a kiss that was dangerously close to his lips.

vinnie sat there processing what had happened while she made her way past the two boys and out the door, leaving a shocked and appauled kelso and a grinning vinnie.

“you guys like my new boots?”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

── ★ ˙ ̟𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 ──

that bag.

curse that stupid bag was all vinnie could think.

y/n was clingier than ever before, doing whatever she could to get vinnie to hang out with her and it was driving him up the wall. she was like a parasite at this point.

then when vinnie told her off and explained how they had nothing in common and that she was just a square cheerleader and they’d never be best friends, it flipped a switch in her.

that’s when he found her outside with a bag full of paraphernalia that she’d purchased in order to prove that she wasn’t some goody two shoes cheerleader, and of course with their luck a cop was there. he approached them after hearing them argue when vinnie heard her express that she wanted to be with him, he couldn’t help himself but snap back at her.

when the officer saw the bag, he went to arrest y/n before vinnie told him that it was his bag and not hers, and given vinnie’s appearance, the cop believed it.

after that, y/n confessed her love to him and was positive that he loved her back, no matter what he may say. in her eyes, him taking the fall for her and going to jail, was him protecting her and she’d never felt any type of protection like that before from any of her exes.

she made it her mission to get him to be with her as soon as he was released from jail.

“guess who?!” she put two hands over hackers eyes, covering them as she stood behind him. he was alone at the hub, sitting at a table with a bottle in his hand.

“well, it’s either y/n or the cold, clammy hands of death. not sure which one would be worse.”

“it’s….y/n!” she singsonged, sitting beside him. her hand immediately going to clutch his arm.

“damn it.”

“oh, vinnie…you’re my hero!” she gushed, “when that cop found my bag and you said it was yours, and then they took you to the big house and locked you up! that was the most romantic thing ever.”

“yeah, maybe for you! i was deloused!” he scoffed, feeling y/n grab his hand and forcibly intertwine them when leo came in to sit beside them. he gave up fighting and let her hold his hand.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

while the gang was nervously conversing in the basement about how eric got them busted for smoking by confessing to red after vinnie got arrested, y/n interrupted.

she leaped down off of the washing machine and walked behind vinnie. “guys, can we talk about something more important than weed? i mean,” she grabbed vinnie’s face, pulling him into her chest as she leaned down, “we’re in love!”

vinnie suddenly rose from his chair, turning to face her. his tight plain shirt was hugging his figure perfectly. “alright, enough of your fantasy bullshit. this whole thing wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for you. why don’t you get this through your simple little easy bake oven head? i don’t love you. i don’t even like you. i can barely stand to look at you. okay?”

the room went silent for a moment before y/n chirped up, “oh vinnie, you’re such a bad liar!” and with that, she wrapped her arms around the boys neck and leaned up into him, hugging him.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

── ★ ˙ ̟𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐞 ──

“so…vinnie…” the cheery girl placed both her hands on vinnie’s legs, right above his knees. he was seated on the washing machine, listening to the gang converse about how bored they were, when she approached.

she had on a denim dress with a slightly-sheer button up underneath that was light green with flowers all over it. her hair was pushed back with a bobby pin and she had a gold necklace on that matched the watch hacker wore—only her necklace was real gold and a gift from her father while his watch was something he stole off of a kid during third period last year.

the blue of her outfit was just a smidge darker than the jeans he wore. “would you like to be my date to mr. foreman’s barbecue?” her question was spoken with such confidence that anyone with eyes would wonder who she thought she was asking, because clearly it wasn’t vinnie, the boy who dodged her at every change he got.

“no.” her face dropped at his words and the brunette continued, “as a matter of fact, i don’t wanna go anywhere with you.”

“you know what— that’s okay!” vinnie felt the machine beneath him wobble slightly as y/n sat down beside him, closer than she needed to be. she was now sandwiched between him and the laundry bin that laurie had left down there. “we can stay in.”

her arm hung over his shoulders, leaning in even closer than she was before. “no, y/n! i’ve told you time and time again, you don’t have a chance.”

she could feel embarrassment slowly creeping up and shifted back away, her shoulder touching the laundry bin. “but for some reason, you keep thinking that i’m interested and that you have a chance!” he moved over to sit on the chair beside donna.

“wait, so you are interested in me and i have a chance?!”

of course her brain only made out the exact opposite of what vinnie was trying to say. donna let out a laugh, darting her eyes back down to the magazine she was reading from her seat on the sofa.

vinnie quickly stood back up at her words, “boy, you are just insufferable and stupid… donna, take your friend.” with that, he went up the stairs, leaving the two girls alone.

“donna..” y/n crossed her arms, taking in vinnie’s words. “why does he say words that hurt me so much? why would he want to hurt me like that?!”

“because you’re stalking him, y/n.”

“no, really, donna!”

“y/n. really.” she deadpanned, her bright eyes looking over at her best friend. her fingers closed her magazine and she shimmied closer to the girl. “you are to hacker what fez is to you.”

“okay, that’s ridiculous— fez and i would never happen!” her breath caught in her throat and she felt herself fall into the seat beside the redhead. “oh my god… vinnie and i will never happen.”

the predicament was completely different than anything she’d ever experienced before. usually whenever she had a problem, she could solve it with either money or her looks. she’d already tried money when she bought vinnie those boots, and clearly he was blind if he wasn’t dropping to his knees like everyone else to be with her, so looks wasn’t working either.

that left her with one other option. make him realize that he likes her. how? by making him jealous.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

later that day, y/n arrived at the foreman’s barbecue with someone else, just how she planned. he had an arm wrapped around her and wore the ugliest brown leather jacket that vinnie had ever seen.

the sight of chip leaning onto y/n was one vinnie didn’t expect to see from his seat at the front of the house.

“everybody, meet chip! he’s been chasing after me for years now so i figured, what the hell? chip, meet everybody!” her voice was too happy for vinnie’s liking and when chip left to grab her a drink, she immediately turned to see him, perched there watching with an unreadable expression.

“so you’re with this chip guy now?” he had his legs spread on both sides of the chair, his arms resting in his lap as he leaned backwards.

“yep.” her gaze was on chip, smiling dreamily before turning to vinnie.

“huh.” he muttered.

“why, do you care?” she shot back, pressing all of her weight into the pillar of the house.

“nah, why would i? i mean, if you wanna date this guy than that’s..cool.” he replied.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

y/n immediately approached donna who was putting up decorations for her dad, to inform her on what vinnie said.

while she didn’t see why her best friend was so excited about what seemed to be an honest and careless answer, she was somewhat grateful to have her there since everyone else had been at eric’s house all day. y/n made sure to compliment the decorations before heading back to the barbecue, only after she’d snatched a hot dog from the grill and complimented bob’s cooking.

after steering eric’s sister away from her chip, she continued back to her date. “you can have him when i’m done with him, like usual.” she’d said.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

something told vinnie to talk to this ‘chip’ guy, and after further evaluation, he was glad he did.

the guy was a jackass. even more so than her usual type, and that said a lot coming from hacker.

“i hate it when she talks, and she’s always talking.” was a statement that he could agree with and laugh about, but when the loser followed that statement up with “but it’s worth it if i get to nail her,” that was when he started seeing red.

“huh..” vinnie tightened his jaw along with the grip on his beer. “you might wanna rethink that, man. i mean…y/n’s pretty young and…only had like one boyfriend.”

“yeah, which isn’t surprising, i mean…she’s a bitch.” chip proceeded to shoot him with the most shit-eating grin that vinnie had ever seen. he just couldn’t stop himself from swinging at him.

so he did.

after letting out a dry chuckle that read ‘you’re gonna regret saying that’, vinnie threw a punch at him, hard, knocking chip to the floor instantly.

y/n came running out at the sound of shouts and gasps from the party goers who had witnessed it.

“vinnie, what happened?”

she couldn’t care less about her date bleeding on the floor, instead her focus was entirely on the tattooed boy who was adjusting his jacket and seemed to be just as confused as what had happened as she was.

“what? nothing! just…somebody and the—guy that…just said bitch and there’s nothing.” he struggled to explain himself while her eyes darted from him to the guy on the floor.

“oh my god! he called me a bitch and you hit him!” vinnie gulped, studying her frantic movements. “i’m right, aren’t i!?”

“no…”

“liar! i am the bitch and you LOVE me!” she exclaimed.

“uh…kitty’s calling me.” and with that, vinnie darted into the house, ignoring her and leaving her there to daydream about how ‘in love’ they were.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

just a few hours later, there she was, in vinnie’s jacket, sitting on the edge of the front of the car. she looked so innocent staring up at the stars in his clothes that were way too big for her.

they were on a date.

after going to kitty for advice and hearing how convinced she was that vinnie had feelings for y/n, he said fuck it and borderline demanded her to get in the car. “we are going on a fucking date.”

she was drinking his soda, an intimate gesture while leaning into him. everything was so perfect, from the scenery to the sound of guitar playing from the car radio. it was just what she wanted.

“dates almost over…what’d you think?”

“eh..i didn’t completely hate it.” he replied, looking back at her to see her gazing lovingly into his eyes.

then, they leaned in. a first kiss.

“huh.” kissing him wasn’t as she imagined it’d be. it wasn’t like when she kissed michael and that was all she was really used to. “i didn’t feel anything.”

“nothing?”

“no…i mean, it was good! but..” y/n sighed, “did you feel something?”

“uh….no.” he stopped and stared quizzically at the sky for a moment before reaffirming his answer.

“wow…than i guess you were right about us all along. just friends.” a part of her was disappointed.

“i mean..we have enough time if you want to take this to the backseat and—“ he raised an eyebrow, smirking.

“oh, take me home! you pig!”

“yes, dear.”

she wondered if he really did feel something.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

── ★ ˙ ̟𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐜𝐭 ──

vinnie was on top as usual, gripping the side of the couch while y/n was splayed out under him. her arms met his shoulders, humming softly while entangling her tongue with his. about five minutes into a make out session, they heard the familiar stomp of kelso’s feet down the basement stairs.

“a catholic school?!”

fuck.

the two immediately separated, y/n pulling her dress back down and adjusting her lipstick while vinnie ran to grab his pair of sunglasses off the table, crossing his legs to hide his surely visible erection.

“yeah, my dad took away my slingshot so i’m feeling it pretty bad too.” kelso reached the end of the stairs with donna and eric following him. while donna went to grab her laundry, kelso slid in beside y/n on the couch, sucking obnoxiously loud on a lollipop.

vinnie pretended to be invested in whatever shitty show was on tv, while michael started hitting on y/n, like always.

“i think we should hash this thing out, yeah?” he gestured between him and his ex with the lollipop he held.

“michael, i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“come on babe, i can see it on your face. you’re dying. you miss me so much and i know we’ve been through a lot together…but you know i’m always here if you ever have some physical needs.” he suggested, putting an arm around y/n’s shoulders and breathing down onto her.

vinnie quickly jabbed him in the arm, making kelso lose his grip on the lollipop. “ow-hey! what was that for?!”

he frantically grabbed the red treat off the ground before looking back at the brunette and rubbing his shoulder in pain.

“candy’s not good for you.” he barked, clearly annoyed at the way he was talking to y/n, but with them being under wraps, only she could tell.

“well damn!” he grossly popped the treat into his mouth, leaning towards the opposite side of the couch. donna and eric winced at the sight, before exclaiming how kelso will ‘always be the king’.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

the last thing donna and eric expected to see when they entered the foreman’s basement was vinnie hunched over y/n, who was grasping on to her dress that had made its way down to her waist, trying to shield her bra cladded chest.

vinnie didn’t even care enough to move, y/n had to push him off of her. her face was so hot, she only assumed it looked animated. there were probably birds flying around hackers head, the way he didn’t give a damn. it was like someone unplugged him.

eric noticed first, his eyes wide as he shouted a fast “OH MY GOD!”, causing donna to turn. once the redhead’s eyes saw the two on the couch, they mirrored her boyfriends, widening so much that she looked like her eyes would pop out.

“what the hell?!”

“what? you never seen two people kiss before?” vinnie swallowed, his breath still heavy from the act they had been caught in. he’d been blue balled multiple times this week and it was driving him insane— not to mention the times they’d been interrupted during not so heated make outs.

“vinnie!” she scoffed, clearly embarrassed. her best friend threw a nearby pillow at her to help her cover up, since the only way to pull her dress back up, was to rise from her seat.

“what?!” he threw his hands back, nonchalantly. donna sent him a sharp glare, turning her back towards the two so y/n could get situated. eric was so traumatized that he’d already been looking the other way.

“listen you two fairies, sometimes people get urges to touch each other and it’s not a big deal. it means nothing, stop being such prudes.” vinnie responded while y/n fixed her dress, scolding the boy the second she was decent.

“are you done now?” she rolled her eyes, “you can turn around now!”

eric stayed near the door entrance while donna moved closer to her friend. “are you serious y/n?! hacker?!”

“my couch!” eric shrieked, causing his girlfriend to send him a disappointing look. the two locked eyes, “kelso!” they exclaimed in unison, even more outraged than before.

“did someone say kelso!?” fez shouted from the top of the basement stairs. the guilty pair stiffened, knowing that wherever fez is, kelso’s sure to follow. vinnie turned towards the tv, turning it on like nothing happened, while y/n sat there frozen.

“that’s right, ladies and gentlemen! the number one fastest hot dog eating champion of the entirety of the state of wisconsin, michael kelso, has arrived!” fez shouted in an announcer voice, kelso’s steps following.

once fez reached the end of the stairs, he waited for the taller boy to catch up.

“HELL YEAH! word must have gotten around, huh?!” he quickly jumped in between vinnie and y/n, squishing the three on the couch. “yep, that’s right.”

“kelso, what the hell are you talking about?” donna asked.

“i just challenged everyone at the hub to a hotdog race, winner gets 5 dollars, and won! there were only 2 people who agreed but still. everyone else was too wimp and i don’t blame them!” he put an arm on y/n’s shoulder. “does that turn you on?”

the group minus fez and kelso all shook their heads in disapproval. “it was beautiful!” fez sighed lyrically.

“yeah, that hotdog number four almost killed me. i was gasping for air…but i’m not dumb enough to choke. now THAT would be embarrassing.” he laughed, relieved.

the room went quiet before hacker stood up, “i’m going for a drive, y/n come with me.” he stated like it was an order, leaving the girl alone with kelso, fez, and the couple who knew her secret.

“like y/n would follow hacker.” michael scoffed.

“yes, why would she? she hates him!” fez chuckled from his spot in front of the tv.

seeing as they both knew y/n and vinnie wouldn’t have the balls to tell them, eric and donna filled them in on what had happened. they were both hysterical, kelso especially.

“HACKER?! oh be serious you guys, he’s poor and ugly and…” michael struggled to think of ways to insult his friend, “and my friend! he’d never do that…. plus y/n doesn’t date idiots, alright and he’s an idiot! i mean, remember the time he locked himself in the closet at donna’s house and slept there on the floor all night?!?” he shouted, standing up from the couch to face his ex.

“kelso..that was you.” donna corrected him.

“oh yeah…”

“and come on— hacker looks just like you.” eric chimed in.

“yeah! if you were covered in tattoos, were raised in a shack of a house riddled with paraphernalia and were more attractive!” donna remarked, kelso snapping his head back to look at her. “you’d be twins!” she smiled.

“oH, THIS IS THE WORST DAY EVER!” kelso cowardly stormed out of the basement, leaving fez there, kneeling on the ground and looking at the couch that y/n and vinnie had made out on. he looked up quizzically at the two left alone with him.

“so…what color was the bra?”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

── ★ ˙ ̟𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 ──

“you wanna know what i’m grateful for?” red huffed, leaning over his wife’s shoulders. “earplugs.”

he had been begging kitty to quiet down her singing, but with y/n there to help her whip the mashed potatoes, she couldn’t help but burst out in song. she’d missed laurie, not used to her not being home for thanksgiving and y/n was as close to laurie as she could get, yet the girl wasn’t her usual chipper and abrasive self. instead, she was sulking in complete silence, watching kitty cut vegetables as her wrist mindlessly wound the potatoes in the bowl she held.

she couldn’t remember the last time she felt this awful.

her dad was in trouble with the law which was causing a serious turmoil on her mother, leading her to take everything out on y/n, even more so than usual. while all she wanted was to be with vinnie, he hadn’t seen her in a week.

she tried cuddling with him on the couch like she used to, but he didn’t give in and acted like she wasn’t there. after that, she stumbled away crying and stayed at her house for the week— avoiding vinnie at all costs.

she didn’t understand what had happened. it wasn’t like she was asking him to fall madly and deeply in love with her or something, but he wouldn’t even show up to their makeout sessions anymore. ever since he swore that the thing they had was only casual fooling around and nothing more to eric and donna and that they’d stop, he’d been completely distant. sure, she swore it too, but she assumed he was just saying it to get them to back off.

she didn’t think he actually meant it!

a lot had changed since that first kiss they shared. when they started fooling around, it happened out of lust and came completely out of left field, and she still didn’t feel anything magical from it— but recently she’d started to feel things.

and it made her sick to think that she was the only one who felt it.

she wasn’t supposed to like guys like vinnie. she was supposed to marry someone with a bright future and wealthy parents who she could pass down a family name with— not someone who she’d be embarrassed to take to an event with her and have to cover his mouth to keep him from making crude comments.

so why was she so upset that he didn’t go check on her and why did he seemingly forget she existed? she even splurged on a new dress, hoping to get a reaction out of him, but nothing.

noticing how everyone except for hacker was outside playing basketball and conversing, she assumed that meant that the boy was by himself in the basement since he’s rarely in his room. after she finished whipping the mashed potatoes, she spoke for the first time in what felt like ages.

“is there anything else i can help you with, mrs. foreman?”

kitty looked back at her, seeing her sunken gaze and frowned so fast that y/n didn’t see it. “actually, red left a case of booze in the freezer in the basement so it would be nice and cold for him at supper, could you be a dear and fetch it for him?”

the basement.

nodding, she turned and made her way to the basement, anxious at the thought of being alone with vinnie.

when she reached the basement, she found vinnie seated in his usual chair, watching a tv that was seemingly off. she furrowed her brow, bending over at the freezer directly next to him.

“hey.”

he looked over to her, noting her proximity and how good the new dress fit her. “hey.”

“whatcha doin?” she put the beer on the ground, lifting her body up onto the washing machine and sitting down.

“television.” he said.

“really? cause’ it uh…kinda looks like you forgot to turn it on.” she joked.

“man, nothing gets past you, huh?”

sighing, y/n swallowed her pride and joined him on the couch. his brown eyes were glued to her whenever she wasn’t looking.

“are you okay?”

“shouldn’t i be asking you that?” he glared, shaking his head before leaning back into the couch. her hand fell onto his knee, comfortingly.

“yes, yeah..you should, but since you’re too much of a dumbass, i’m making the first move.”

“so, wouldn’t that make you the dumbass here?” he argued.

“stop changing the subject and just tell me why you’re mad at me!”

“i’m not mad at you.” he pulled back from her touch and stood up, shaking his head as if he was annoyed and this was the dumbest conversation on earth.

“well then, why haven’t we been…us recently?”

“alright now, don’t be getting so ahead of yourself, y/n. what us?” he questioned, towering over the girl who was now standing in front of him. “as far as i’m aware, we’ve been the most ‘us’ that we could have possibly been, this week!”

“vinnie, we didn’t see each other at all.”

“and why would we? its like you’ve always said, you’re you and i’m me. why keep wasting time when we already know how it ends?”

she suddenly regretted ever saying such a thing, but didn’t know how to respond with out sounding too desperate. “i thought we were just saying that.”

“well, i wasn’t.”

vinnie’s words came out so definitive and heart wretchedly empty that it almost knocked the wind out of her chest. holding his eye contact felt more difficult than it had ever been. a moment of silence passed, the girls wide-eyed gaze was haunting him already before it had even ceased to exist. pulling himself from her stare, he treaded towards his bedroom, seemingly to grab his keys, and muttered a last word before exiting through the basement door.

“you heard eric didn’t you? we’re breaking up the band.”

biting on her lower lip and clenching her fists, the reminder of kitty upstairs and the case of beer on the ground hit her, along with everything else that had happened that past day. all of it went away the minute she started speaking to hacker, a just to wash over her like a tide again the second he left. she only let a few tears fall before returning upstairs.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“FINALLY!” kelso called out, shooting past y/n as she made her way into the foreman house. kitty had just announced that the turkey was done and that it was time to set the table.

“coming!” eric ushered himself into the kitchen to help his mother prepare the table. y/n and donna stayed back in the living room, donna nodding a hello to hacker who was on the staircase drinking a beer.

“you excited for turkey, hacker?” donna asked playfully, unaware as to how uncomfortable it made y/n. all she knew was that the girl was sad about her parents, she had no idea that the person she sparked a conversation with was also a huge part of her distress.

“oh yeah,” he stood and slowly stepped down as he spoke, “thanksgiving, where we all get together and celebrate the subjugation of an indigenous people with yams and underdog floats. who’d wanna miss that?”

y/n stood back awkwardly as donna laughed and the two followed hacker into the kitchen.

the table was set beautifully, split into two sections, one for the adults and another for the gang. eric had been borderline hyperventilating over the math test that he had failed and was doing everything he could to suck up to his parents, in the event that they found out. laurie had surprised everyone by coming home, so once y/n got red his beer, she was no longer needed in the kitchen. she had almost forgotten until she saw the blonde at their table.

fez and kelso couldn’t wait for food any longer and had already chosen seats beside each other, taking up one side of the table, and donna had gravitated towards the side nearest to fez, leaving a space presumably for her boyfriend. that meant there were only two spots left, both between hacker and laurie.

oh, just shoot me at this point.

 opting for the lesser evil, she sat in the chair directly next to vinnie, the two taking up their entire side. she could practically feel the tension the minute she sat down. there was little to no space between the two of them and it felt like a giant smoggy hurricane was working its way through her body, making it difficult for her to focus and swallow. while she’d droned out laurie’s voice, the sound of her name falling from eric’s lips snapped her back into reality.

“so..y/n. i’m sure you’re really glad your here and not back at home with your parents, huh?” he let out a chuckle, smacking his knee with his hand.

“now that would be awkward huh!”

the group fell silent, even fez and kelso staring at the completely freaked out boy who had very clearly just crossed a line.

“eric!” donna shouted in a whisper, her tone showed distain for his flagrant words but he was too brain fogged to catch on.

“i mean, you must feel like your life is just falling apart! are you doing okay? like really?” he leaned across the counter as far as possible, speaking the last part in a similar hushed expression to his girlfriends.

y/n didn’t expect vinnie to jump in.

“alright, will you lay off? bother her some other time.” his voice boomed in y/n’s ears, ricocheting off of the wires of tension that had bordered the two of them. the conversation quickly faded once the turkey was brought out, but she couldn’t help but hyper focus on the boy beside her, from the corner of her eye.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“man…if i were to list the three most important things in my life, turkey would have to be number one!” kelso had already gotten seconds and was looking to fill his plate again for the third time. he’d been going on about how good the turkey was, and while everyone assumed it was just to be polite to kitty, he was still going on as if this was the best day of his life. “well…” he thought, “sex and slingshots would be above it but, turkey would be up there!” he grinned, nodding and taking his last bite from his piece.

“ah, yes. these mashed potatoes are all i can find thankfulness for. they are like creamy clouds full of deliciousness.” fez agreed, holding a single bowl of the mashed potatoes that y/n had helped make.

“hey, hacker. are you gonna eat that?” michael pointed to the turkey slice that vinnie had been cutting from, he chewed slowly before answering.

“yes.”

“well..could i have maybe the side—“ michael leaned over, trying to bite a piece off of vinnie’s food but vinnie gave his shoulder a haymaker before he could reach it.

“OW!” he clutched his shoulder dramatically. “well that’s not very neighborly!”

continuing to slice into the meat, vinnie moved on with his meal like nothing had happened. the sound brought kitty’s attention to the group and the look on y/n’s face was cause of concern.

“y/n, are you okay dear?” the younger girl looked up quickly, “you’ve barely touched your food.”

she made eye contact with vinnie for a good second, forgetting to ignore the feeling of when his eyes locked on to her.

“yeah, no i’m fine! i’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

“well, why don’t you go lie down in the basement? the dogs alone down there and i’m sure he’d appreciate the company on such a holiday!” she insisted, “plus, you look like you wish that fork you’re holding was a gun!” she added nervously before letting out a hysterical chuckle, taking a long sip of her drink.

“no th-“

“yeah, that’s a good idea. i’m stuffed and starting to miss that little dog. let’s go, y/n.” vinnie stood up, looking down at her and lending out a hand. y/n wasn’t sure if she was daydreaming or if it was a thanksgiving miracle but he was suddenly acting as if nothing had happened.

“what are you talking about-“

“come on,” he reached under her armpits, pulling her up from her chair and kicking back her seat, “schatzi’s probably dying down there. at this hour they’ll be playing reruns of laverne and shirley.” he pulled her arm with him down to the basement, firmly yet gently.

“oh no, i forgot! please be sure to tape it for me!” fez called out frantically.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

after briefly greeting schatzi, y/n sat down on the couch, watching vinnie still in thought.

“well? what-“

“this is stupid.” he blurted out, standing confidently without showing any signs of hesitation or sitting down.

“what? what’s stupid?”

“this. what we are doing— us right now, this is so stupid.”

“okay, i’m lost.” she replied, shaking her head.

“we’re being stupid! whatever we are doing right now, it’s stupid, okay?! alright?!” he confessed, using his hands while he spoke, his brown eyes holding tightly onto her gaze. “i feel stupid! this days been stupid! thanksgiving being a national holiday is stupid—eric failed his math test which makes him stupid!” he ranted, the words spilling out from him like he couldn’t hold them anymore.

“you’re clearly upset, which is stupid! and it’s making me concernedly upset, which is stupid!” he clenched his jaw and schatzi ran over to him at the command in tone of his voice, trying to figure out what vinnie was being so loud about.

“it’s stupid and i’m cutting it out!”

“you’re….cutting it out?” y/n finally spoke up, only to be cut off by his ramblings again, but considering she barely knew what to say, she wasn’t too upset about it.

“yes.” he nodded firmly, grimacing at his words.

“okay, vinnie, you do know that this is all because of you right? you’re the one who stopped what we had going on, not me.”

“yeah, yeah? well, i’m stupid! okay?!” he snapped, sighing and dropping down beside y/n on the couch. he melted at the feeling of her hand on his arm, comforting him while waiting for him to finish his tantrum.

“look…” he sighed, “i’m not saying that we should be in a relationship or anything, but i don’t think we should allow the guys in our group to dictate what we do with ourselves. and i don’t think you think we should either, considering you’ve been moping around all day like schatzi.”

his thumb rubbed the back of her other hand, without realizing. “so..what do we do?”

“how about we just do whatever we want to?” he offered, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “i think you’re really attractive and i have a lot of fun doing sinful and devious acts with you…” she smirked at his words, “and life is too short to be this stupid, so how about we forget about everyone else, say fuck kelso, and just do what we want? no expectations.”

the sincerity and gentleness in his voice was so incredibly attractive and it felt impossible to keep her composure. placing both hands in his, y/n leaned in and kissed vinnie’s cheek. his blush was evident, even if he tried to play it cool.

“so, you think i’m attractive?”

“god, you’re annoying.” he rolled his eyes, groaning before gripping the back of her neck in his hands and kissing her the way that he’d been dying to.

it always was the best way to shut her up.

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

i have to make a new taglist, so reply if you’d like to be added!

[paradiseprincesss]

hi!! if ur requests r still open could we get a fic w robert fischer based on deja vu by olivia rodrigo? like maybe reader and robert had like a summer fling but to her it felt like more ykwim 😭 ive kinda been in the mood for some angst lately LOL

btw i love ur fics i start tweaking a lil whenever u post 💀💞

do you get deja vu? | robert fischer

hi anon, first of all thank you! you're so sweet, i really hope you enjoy this & i apologize that it took me so long to post it. i don't know why but i kept revising this fic over and over again. i wanted it to live up to your expectations LOL.

summary: sometimes we don't realize how much things meant to us until we no longer have it.

warnings: smut, p in v, angst, lovers to strangers, robert fucks up lol and now he's forever sad, mdni 18+ only

word count: 2.3k

the city of malibu was breathtaking; every moment spent here was somehow better than the last — how could a place be so beautiful? as you sat in the passenger side of robert's brand new luxury vehicle, you took in the beauty that you were residing in, whilst robert was taking in the beauty of you.

you weren't totally sure how this whole thing happened — but god, did it mean everything to you.

robert had approached you in a bar while you were out with your girlfriends in the city, offering to buy you a drink. one look at his face and you were agreeing because honestly; who would turn down a man like him?

after your friends encouraged you to keep talking to the handsome stranger, who introduced himself as robert, you two just clicked. conversation flowed effortlessly between the both of you, and soon enough, the two of you were going on your first official date.

it was safe to say that robert had charmed you completely, he had you enamoured with him — infatuated, truly. he was a true gentleman, classy and organized, not to mention that he came from money. after a handful of very upscale, fancy, and luxurious dates, the two of you had began seeing each other regularly.

neither of you had put an actual "title," per se, on what you had going on between the two of you, but at this point in time — you didn't see the harm.

so that's the story of how you ended up in robert's luxury car, speeding down the roads of malibu whilst he took you on a weekend getaway here. far, far away from the city you two both resided in.

"i'm craving ice-cream," you said to robert while the two of you were stopped at a red light, "strawberry, specifically."

"what, like right now?" robert asked with a small chuckle, sighing as he admired your breathtaking beauty underneath the heat of the malibu sunshine.

"yes, like right now."

"okay, let's go get some then." robert decided, his baby blue eyes melting your heart as a smile tugged at his lips.

true to his word, robert drove the both of you to a nearby ice-cream shop, and got you your strawberry ice-cream — one spoon for two. that afternoon was spent sharing laughs, sweet kisses, and the strawberry ice-cream that you'd been craving.

even though robert came from money and had more than you'd ever thought someone could have, it wasn't his wealth and status that snagged your heart. it was him, just good old robert fischer. not his money, not his materialistic things, not his cars, no — just who he was.

robert was caring. he was so considerate, listened to you, and was always there for you when you needed him the most. it felt like he was yours, and you were his — and that's how things should've been.

that's how the story should have ended.

but you know what they say; all good things have to come to an end at some point.

"robert," you said breathlessly, "take this dress off of me, please."

"sweetheart," he whispered against your ear as he unzipped your designer dress, "you're so beautiful, you know that?"

"i love—" you paused, suddenly hyperaware of the words that were about to leave your mouth, "i love that you took me here."

you weren't sure if you should've said it — i love you, that is.

robert and you had been seeing each other for the entirety of the summer by the time he'd taken you to malibu, but again; to you it felt like more than a fling. you just weren't sure where he stood with this whole thing between you and him.

"anything for you, sweetheart. i'd do anything." robert replied softly, turning you around as he slipped you out of the dress.

stood in your lacy, white, la perla lingerie along with matching jimmy choo's and stockings (courtesy of robert, of course), you face him with a blush. "how does it look?" you ask shyly, to which robert smiles and sighs happily in bliss.

"you..." he whispered, trailing off for a moment, "you're just so perfect — how are you mine?"

"yours?"

"mine, and mine only, sweetheart. don't ever forget it."

you'd soon come to never forget it — just not in the way you'd hoped.

robert took your hand in his gently, guiding you to the huge, king-sized, luxurious bed in his miami penthouse. no hotels over here; this is robert fischer were talking about — he owned homes down here.

you found your way into his bed, laid up in the pile of silk pillows, as robert found his way between your legs with his hands wrapped up in your hair. he kissed you passionately with a hunger that you'd never seen from him before.

you took your time helping him out of his suit, being dainty and deliberate with your movements — maybe you felt like being a tease tonight. after you'd gotten him out of your clothes, your lacy bra was long gone, but his hands wandered down to the scrunched lace of your underwear.

"may i?" robert asked sweetly, his eyes darting between your pretty face and perky breasts, causing you to blush profusely.

"y-yes," you whimpered, "i can't wait anymore."

"god, when you say things like that — i don't think i can either, sweetheart." robert groaned softly, finally pulling down your white lace panties.

up until this point — you and robert hadn't actually had sex yet. you thought it was sweet; special, even. you thought he really liked you, that he didn't want to sleep with you until you felt ready. obviously, you took this as a sign that he deeply cared about you as a person, in more than just a "fling" way.

as his cock stretched you open perfectly, you arched your back and let out a soft moan, as did he. he started to move in and out of your soaking cunt gently, truly taking the time to make sure you were enjoying this as much as he was.

his cock was thick — it had you feeling fuller than you'd ever felt before from previous partners, and it felt like his cock was made for you. with the way it stretched your pussy out perfectly, hitting every spot just right, bringing you closer and closer to the edge with each thrust he gave you.

"so beautiful," robert praised through gritted teeth, "and so tight, fuck."

"r-right there! mmph!" you moaned softly as his cock brushed up against that spongy spot inside of you, causing your cunt to clench around him.

"right there? is that it, sweetheart?" robert cooed, making you nod feverishly.

"yeah," you said breathlessly, "right — f-fuck! gonna cum!"

"thaaaat's it, my pretty girl. drench my cock so i can fill you up with my cum." he encouraged, causing you to see stars as you came around his length.

your pretty little noises pushed robert over the edge a minute or two later, his hips snapping into your cunt as he fucked his cum into you. as you looked up at robert, he had a small smile on his face and his cheeks were dusty. you returned the smile, and he sighed as he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in his embrace tightly after he'd pulled out.

he whispered your name to you softly, causing you to stare up at him with admiration and love. "yeah?" you say softly, intertwining your hands with his as the two of you cuddled in between the sheets.

"i never want you to leave," he said, voice saccharine, "you mean so much to me, sweetheart."

"i—" you stammered, unsure if this was a good time to say it; but you figured it would be. especially after what he'd said to you, after the way he made love to you. "i love you, robert."

you smiled to yourself, but frowned when you realized you were just living in a memory — something that only existed in the past now. reality hit you like a freight train as you were brought back to your current situation; in the same bar you'd met robert at once months ago.

you weren't in miami with him anymore — you didn't even know who he was anymore; perhaps just a fragment of your past. you hadn't spoken since the end of august when the both of you had gotten back from your weekend getaway.

things had changed since then.

it was the middle of a bleak november evening, and the cold weather was depressing. summer had left as quickly as it had come.

"are you okay?" your friend asked as you sipped on your martini, looking as beautiful as ever — but for nobody in particular anymore. "that's your third drink, you sure you there's not something you want to talk about?"

"actually, there is," you say, turning to her as the two of you sat in a secluded little table in the corner of the bar, "doesn't she look familiar?"

as you pointed across from you, your friends eyes trailed along until they stopped at a woman who looked eerily similar to you.

she wore the same type of clothes that you did, down to the brand of high heels. her hair was the same colour as yours, so were her eyes, and not to mention she looked like she could be you if you didn't look too hard.

"looks like you found your doppelganger." your friend joked, nudging your arm but to her surprise, you didn't laugh — nor did you come close to even cracking a smile. "are you sure you're okay?"

"look at who she's with." you say bitterly, and your friend looked back at the woman to see that she was now accompanied by a man — a man who she knew as robert fischer.

at first, when robert walked into the bar on the crisp autumn night, you had to do a double take to make sure you were really seeing what you thought you had seen. once you'd confirmed it was him, you were about to grab your purse and drag your friend out of the bar with you — until you saw who he'd come with.

the woman hanging on his arm was a walking reflection of you; it was like everything was all reused. you silently hoped that maybe you weren't just another one of those girls who he pretended to care about; just saying whatever to get into their pants because they were just his type and nothing more.

but this woman couldn't just be his "type" — she was a mirror image of you.

"is that—?"

"yeah," you answered your friend, "it is."

"didn't he tell you that you guys couldn't see each other anymore because of his fathers passing?" she asked you, to which you nodded, throwing back the rest of your drink.

"i told him i loved him and he told me he didn't feel the same. after everything we did together and everything he said. after he called me his and his only — the thing with his father was just some excuse."

"what a piece of shit," your friend scoffed, "but it seems like he might still be thinking about you — i mean, it looks like he's looking for you in every other woman."

"do you think he gets deja vu when he's with her?" you suddenly ask, causing your friend to laugh softly.

"probably," she tells you, "i mean, who's to say he isn't going out with her just to feel like he has you again?"

"do you really think so?"

before your friend could answer your question, you heard your name being called as you both peered over at the sound. at first, your heart dropped because of the familiar voice that had called out your name — but when you looked over at him, you almost flatlined on the spot.

he hadn't even realized you were at the bar, and that's when it hit you — she even had the same name as you, which made everything ten times worse? or awkward? or weird?

"oh shit," your friend said with shock, "she has the same name as you, too. you can't tell me my theory isn't true now."

"my god." you whisper, feeling at a loss for words in this very moment as you watched the two of them together.

he had his arm wrapped around her waist the same way he used to do with you, but the way he looked at her was completely different. there was something missing in his once lively, baby blue eyes — he seemed so blank. like he was there but also, he wasn't really.

you overheard fragments of their conversations; they were talking about the songs you two used to listen to together, and he told her all about how those were "his favourite songs." you also heard him tell some familiar jokes — the same jokes you two used to laugh about.

back when he was yours for the time being.

"i'm going home, you coming?" you ask your friend, swallowing hard as you felt yourself become teary-eyed.

"yeah, yeah, i'm coming."

as you both made your way to the exit, you took one last look back at robert and his new girl, just to get one last glance — but when you looked back at him, he was already looking at you.

time stopped for a minute, and you'd sworn you'd never seen someone look so full of regret in all your years of living. every time you thought he was going to look away, he didn't. he continued to look at you as if you were otherworldly — as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing in that very bar.

but you reminded yourself of the heartache he caused you.

so, with a heavy heart, you walked out of the bar as you turned away from him, letting him relive the past and linger in the feeling of deja vu.

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@aprilsfrog05 @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii @stsrfujid

[wandsandwheezes]

NASCAR IV | G.W //F.W

WARNINGS // 8.6k // SMUT 18+, George x Reader // Fred x unnamed OC, Angry Fred, Racer!George, light angst, fighting, rough sex, soft sex, breeding kink af, mentions of alcohol, cars, sex, possession, praise kink, a (tiny) amount of degradation, oral, unprotected sex.

A/N // Ladies n gents we are back n better than everrr!! This has legit been sat in the WIPs for a year and I have not had the energy or motivation to get back to it until now. ps.. thank you to @darthwheezely for helping me out on this one as my co-writer, idk what i'd do without you!! pps.. stay tuned for more works in the future!

It was always good to be home. As much as George adored being on the road, there was something so blissful about waking up in his own bed, with the woman of his dreams curled tightly into his chest. This was what made it worth it. 

“Good morning, muffin,” you muttered peacefully, hand reaching up to push the messy tufts of hair from his sleepy eyes. He threw his head back and groaned at your use of the corny nickname so early in the morning.

“That divorce and sweet sweet alimony cannot come soon enough,” he grinned, soon getting whacked in the face by the pillow next to you, his own hand reaching to pull you by the scruff of your neck into a sloppy kiss. 

Like most mornings, George was already out of bed, walking around aimlessly in his low-slung plaid pj bottoms as he searched sleepily for either his shop uniform or at the very least something that would easily pass without Fred throwing a fit.

“Are you sure you want to leave me?” You teased, pushing yourself out of bed, letting his t-shirt fall past your hips as your feet patted along the wood floors, taking you to him. You wrap your arms around his waist groggily, forehead resting against his back as you take in his warmth.

“I’m never sure about leaving you, angel, I doubt you’ll take much convincing if I suggest lunch?”

“I’ll make your favourite sandwich and swing by later, yeah?” You smiled, giggling as he spun you around, strong hands holding your arms as he leaned down to kiss you.

“They say you’re the lucky one, but lord, woman you make me the luckiest.” 

The sun was not Fred’s friend today. But honestly: no one was Fred’s friend today, not when the sun was over a hundred and two degrees in a shop with shitty A/C with his wife away playing hostess for god knows how many interviewees in that pretty black dress.

He probably wouldn’t even be this angry if she hadn’t been an insufferable prime American tease, waking up to her lips wrapped around the base of his cock and sending delicious vibrations throughout his body before pulling off right as he was about to release:

“You’ve got work today, ace, I need you to be a good boy.”

So there was Fred, as horny as a fourteen year old, deprived as a fourteen year old, and about as pouty as a toddler. Even George knew how pissy his brother had been, eyeing him rather sharply. 

“You know, Freddie, It would be nice to come into work one day with you having not woken up on the wrong side of bed.” George chuckled, pulling up the bottom of his already oil-stained shirt to wipe at his jaw. The older twin stalked around him and hit him in the chest with his rag.

“Actually, I was sleeping quite well on my lovely and rosy smelling side of the bed until I got fucking booted like a small boy and-” he was briefly aware of George laughing at him and made to punch his younger brother over the hood. “- it’s not funny, you know...it’s…” he swallowed, the familiar feeling of his strawberry tint rising to the surface, “...ithasn’tbeenasrecentasyou and before you ask me how I know that, remember you’re the other half of my DNA in mum’s womb,” he childishly spat. He slid into the driver’s seat of the Mustang they were working on and began drumming the dash, his knee bouncing against the side door - a tell tale sign of his frustration.

“I thought we established that you are in fact half of my DNA, just because you were born first doesn’t mean shit.” George rolled his eyes, throwing the rag on top of the car before joining his brother in the passenger seat.

“No, because I, in fact, am the prettier twin, which means I not only had sex first, but also get more privileges such as Denny’s coupons, discounted smoothies, and more phone calls with my mother than you.” Spotting you walk into the workshop area he honked the horn a couple times and giggled, whistling when you walked in.

“Ahoy my lovely sister-in-law!” He grinned and honked once more, a loud and obnoxious greeting - so uniquely Fred.

Rolling up to the side of the car, you laughed, seeing George rub at his temples, sighing to himself over the continuous blaring horn. You leaned in against the window, poking your head into the car with a smile, pressing a kiss to George’s cheek while Fred’s smile dropped, his face forming into a stare of jealousy, quickly forcing a smile again to hide his obvious frustrations. 

“Oi! Get a bloody room you two!” He huffed, honking loudly when George leaned in to kiss you again.

“Do you mind?” George gritted out.

“Yes, a bit, actually, you may have the back office for now to do somewhat lovey and sinful things but please try to be discreet, kids!” He winked salaciously and leaned forward against the wheel, his elbow cocked on the dash as he fought to not think about destroying his wife to be the second she got home. Usually racing helped, kept his mind (and libido) wandering if he felt a bit pent up - but at least for a few months or so, there wouldn’t be any release. The thought alone had him throw his head back and groan in displeasure.

“I brought lunch, wanna eat with me?” You grinned, batting your eyelashes, a move that practically had George falling out of the car, grabbing your hand as he followed you out to the back office. It was definitely hotter in the back, if you were being honest, yet that had nothing to do with the blazing sunshine but the way your fiance could have practically drank you in whole by the way he was staring. 

“Stop staring, George, your eyes will go square.” You laughed, setting your bag on the table, pulling out the sandwich you had made for him, pushing it into his chest as you pulled out your own lunch. 

“You know that doesn’t work with staring at humans right? Just TVs.” George retorted, walking backwards before plopping himself down on the sofa. “You didn’t happen to bring my-” You had already reached into your bag, pulling out his water bottle, something he not only had a habit of leaving at home but something he nearly always drank with lunch. Props to him for staying hydrated but after so long together you had managed to pick up on nearly all of the smaller things about him. 

“What would I do without you, huh?” He smiled, taking the bottle from your hand as you slipped onto the sofa next to him, legs swinging over his thighs as you unwrapped your sandwich. This was normal for you, reminding you of the days before racing and before America, a part of you growing fond of those memories. 

“You seem lost, Angel.” He muttered, hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, a worried look painting his expression. Shaking your head at him, you pulled yourself up to be straddling his hips, your nose bumping against his softly before capturing his lips into a kiss. 

A part of both of you needed this, the locked lips while his hands held your hips in their place, effortlessly controlling the way they would rut against his growing bulge, both desperate for the friction. He was moaning into your mouth, his hips bucking up to meet yours as the innocence in the kiss quickly slipped away, his own desperation to have you ruling how his hands had practically ripped your shirt off of you, his lips messily pressed against the newly exposed skin of your chest. 

“Shit, baby, I just wanna get those tight little fucking shorts off of you.” He groaned, hand snaking up to tangle in the hair at the back of your head as your hips continued grinding relentlessly. You were ultimately putty in his hands, moldable and pliant only for his skilled grip and teasing touch. 

“No time for that though.” He chuckled, his quick fingers effortlessly slipping the material to the side before the pad of his thumb found your clit, rubbing in teasing circular motion, a loud and lewd groan falling from his lips at the feel of just how wet you were already. Your hand flew to his mouth, finger pressed against his plump lips to keep him silent.

“Not so much noise, Georgie.” You giggled, a faint moan falling from your lips as his fingers began to tease your entrance. Your own warnings of silence had fallen short the second you found yourself wrapped around his fingers, his long digits pulling desperate moans from you by the second.

“Not so much noise, angel.” 

—

The elder twin had watched his brother follow you out, had seen the way his twin’s eyes had smoothed over the curve of your ass, how he’d admired your shorts and in utter and complete disdain Fred kicked the inside of the car. It was dumb, the way he was wishing he could have his girl thrown in front of a bathroom counter and force her to watch him fuck that pretty pretty cunt of his, and unknowingly slid his hand down to his jeans and started to palm.

His jaw was clenched at the thought of her slutty little stunt she pulled this morning when they both knew how wet she would get when she had her mouth around him, and gritted in a groan as he squeezed his clothed erection.

“God, fuck, love,” he panted, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans half way to slide his boxers down, his cock springing free instantly. He thought about how her cunt fit perfectly to his cock, how no matter how many times he’d slipped deliciously into her, she always seemed just as tight as the first time, meanwhile his hand loosely pumped back and forth on his shaft. This was pathetic, he knew it was pathetic, but still the idea of her underneath him while her breasts heaved and her smokey chocolate hair was strewn about the pillow had him grunting.

“God, I’m so surprised you’re not pregnant yet, with the amount of cum I stuff you with and the rounds we do in a day,” he growled, all eleven inches sunk deep into her.

“Oh, shit, baby, god, you feel so good,” he panted, his thumb tightly rolling small circles on his tip. 

“Want it so bad, baby, wanna be so full and round soon as we can,” she had moaned, arching so far into his hold that he had thrusted at the same time a nipple brushed his lips and into his mouth, biting the sensitive flesh and causing her to whine.

“Such a fucking whore,” he snarled, his hips bucking up to meet each stroke of his fist, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he imagined his palm to be nothing but her - no, his - soft and soaked pussy. 

His hips were jerking at the speed of sound, he didn’t really care if anyone else could hear, if anything it made him more turned on, let ‘em hear, he could give less of a shit and especially if she were here, he’d make damn sure everyone from Houston to L.A. knew exactly which racer she was getting boned by each and every night.

“Freddie, honey, please, I need you to so bad,”

“I’m right behind you, baby, goddamnit so fucking good,” and with a faint shout of her name he released, his dick twitching under his own rough touch, his eyes screwed shut at his own frustration, none of it was real, the memory of it and the smell of sweaty sex in not only hotel rooms but in cars across the country dimming his mind back to square one. He laughed harshly at his own predicament, assessing his own situation before whistling lowly.

“Fuck, I need a drive.”

—

“George, for the love of God, stop fuckin’ with the carburetor, we already checked it an hour ago,” Fred whined, leaning against the back of the car. The day had been relatively slow beyond that one car, the hour approaching about 4:30, Fred eagerly awaiting until those hands hit 6.

“We did? I could have sworn we didn’t but I wouldn’t know, would I?” George rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from under the hood, heading over to you to take the tool you aimlessly held from your hands, not before his hands pressed against your neck, pulling you into a quick kiss.

Fred went to retort, interrupted only by the grizzly rotary of the engine rev close by. He knew exactly what the sound was, the same kind of rev that ecologists blamed on the hole in the ozone, the smell lewd and hungry for attention. 

It wasn’t just any old car, it had to be for racing. And sure enough it was, two in fact, fully souped up in high gear and brand new paint blinding in the Arizona sun. Fred held a hand above his eyebrows to see who it was, and George leaned back around Fred trying to do the same thing. When the cars pulled up and swerved albeit messily into the lot the twins broke into grins.

“Is that-?”

“-yeah, it’s-”

And then the car doors opened, one man rather lanky and lean and the other shorter and stocky, the rather lean one putting both his hands on his hips and clucking: “Well, I’ll be damned, freshen up then lads,” and grinned mischievously.

“DEAN!”

“SEAMUS!” They both yelled and jumped at their friends, a chorus of rowdy hugs and how are yous being traded from each of the boys.

“Alright then, boys?” Seamus quipped.

“Well, Jesus, we sure hope so, haven’t seen you since, shit what March?” George ran a hand through his hair, looking at Fred to confirm that and he nodded in response.

“Sounds about right, we’ve had to keep to ourselves - don’t want a bust like what happened to Diggory, y’know,” Seamus smirked.

“That arsehole from - shit what was his sponsor, Georgie?”

“Wonderbread,”

“Yeah, I never liked him, hits on everything that moves he does, my girl included,” Fred made his way to their mini-fridge swinging out a couple of bottled cane-sugar Coke (the only kind he and his wife ever drank, unfortunately for their bank account), and distributing them to each of the boys, passing around the bottle opener.

Dean scoffed. “Fred, you think everyone flirts with your girl and Y/N.”

“I’m a protective man, Thomas, not my fault I see a douche bag and-”

“Anyway,” George cut him off, leaving a rather pouty Fred in his place, and leaning back to sit on the hood of the car. “What brings you two ‘round then?”

Seamus and Dean visibly held their bottles a little tighter, then looked at each other.

“Well, we um...we have this thing we do on Thursdays down behind Tucson-” Seamus started.

“-not the raceway...it’s a bit more shifty, if you get it.” Dean finished, taking a swig of Coke. George studied the two for a second and finally leaned back on the car hood.

“Boys, what is this?” He asked softly, Fred shifting uncomfortably on the minifridge.

Seamus opened his mouth again, his face a great shade of crimson when Dean leapt in again.

“We do it in secret because if Indy or Nascar found out we’d all be dead but...we never really stopped racing you know. We just...we do it in the backwoods area of town-”

“Where it’s basically just sand and flat land for miles,” Seamus added, nodding vehemently. 

“Count me in.” Fred spoke quickly, pushing himself up off the mini fridge and over to the two boys, a smirk hanging off his lips in anticipation of being able to put his foot to the floor again on a track, albeit a dirt-road track, it was a course nevertheless.

“Yeah, no, Fred you can’t, if the Wood Brothers find out you are never racing again.” George cut in, fingers pressed to his temple in fear of his brother’s own recklessness.

“Come on, baby brother, I think you need to loosen up a little, what do you think, y/n?” Fred’s smirk only grew as he raised his eyebrow, hoping to entice the younger twin into his lure.

“You know, Georgie, I think it would be good for you and Fred to race together, you know, just for fun...” You shrugged, staking over to George, arms wrapping around his waist, as you looked up at him with a pout.

“I suppose if those two big brains can still have jobs, we’ll be fine, right?” George sighed, feeling himself giving in, purely from a look from his girlfriend.

“That’s the spirit!” Dean smirked, a smile cracking up on Seamus’ lips as the four boys looked among each other, almost silently communicating a plan until they had erupted with laughter.

—

The clock had said 9:34, roughly 26 minutes before Fred would be ecstatically waiting for George outside his studio apartment. His neck was tilted upwards, covered in shaving cream with a bath towel wrapped loosely around his waist. The sink was littered with expensive cologne and aftershave, the first purchase he ever made after his first check at the shop, his scalpel grifting smoothly up his jawline. 

Fred had learned very early on that preparation was absolutely everything, and after his little twelfth place charade - he felt his mates needed to remember that he was, for all intents and purposes, that bitch. 

“Fred, baby, you home?” He heard her call out, the clanging of keys falling into the empty fishbowl on the coffee table.

“Yeah, cupcake, I’m in here,” he called out stiffly, listening to her start to rant on about the interviews at hand - none of them were ever any fun, he’d been to enough to learn that all they cared about were raunchy questions geared at his wife and female reporters flirting with him in front of studio audiences. 

“...and god my feet were killing me, she wanted to walk with me all the way down the block and-“ she stopped analyzing his posture, his broad and freckled back still slightly covered in drops from the shower, his V-line angled to the side to a point where if she tugged on his hips juuuust right it would be sure to drop in one fell swoop, combined with the fact that he was shaving. 

“Honey?” 

“Yes, dear?” He side eyed her and smirked before turning his eyes back to the mirror, finishing the last of the area around his upper jaw and by his cheekbones.

“Are you going somewhere tonight?” She questioned, standing next to him now, looking at him directly through the mirror. He licked his lips at the sight of her minorly aggressive position and broke contact.

“Just for a bit, love, I’ll be back probably when you’re asleep.”

“And were you planning on telling me?”

“And were you planning on being a tease this morning after I gave you such a lovely time last night?”

He watched her mouth open and close as if she were about to say something and faltered, and snorted. “Yes, exactly, I thought so,” he said, turning around to grab a hand towel, splashing water on his face to rinse off the cream.

“Oh...I see what this is,” she purred. He stopped and slowly pulled his face up to the sink, setting a hand down on the sink to ground him from the massive hard on that was occurring under his towel, and turning towards her.

“What was that?” 

“I think you’re a pent up, horny teenager that doesn’t like being told no,” she smiled cruelly at him and watched as Fred’s jaw tensed ever so slightly. 

He rolled it gently and went to move past her but she was quicker, and pushed him backward with five painted red nails to his chest. She looked up at him and roughly scratched down his torso, causing Fred to hiss at the fresh red stripes. She slid a hand up his chest and stopped at the column of his throat, gripping ever so slightly, before leaning up to kiss him and pulling away just so he could feel her exhale.

“Have a nice night, Freddie,” she whispered before quirking a brow and grinning, prancing off to their bedroom alone.

When she was out of earshot he shakily breathed out, trying to steady his breathing and his yearning cock - he’d deal with her later for sure, regardless of his behavior or not.

It was 9:32, approximately 28 minutes before George would pick him up outside his studio apartment…

—

The twins arrived at around 10:15, the drive there filled with only uncomfortable silence at what was to come. George was a bit pissed to say the least, once again Fred was getting his way for an adrenaline run, and this time Y/N had backed him up.

George’s last place he would be right now is behind the wheel of his own fucking car.

He parked it next to Dean’s sleek, jet black chevy, his hands gripping the steering wheel ever so slightly as he leaned back against the headrest.

“You realize if we get caught we could never race again, right?” George prompted quietly.

“Here’s an idea; don’t.” Fred rolled his eyes, reaching over to flick his brother in the ear, eyebrows raised playfully.

“Yeah, no shit, sherlock.” George grumbled, turning off the ignition, listening to the signature growl of his engine grind to a stop. 

“Why is it always such a bad idea to do anything fun once in a while, Georgie,” Fred grumbled, his knee bouncing against the floor of the car. “It’s not like we’ve had anything to do as of late, you know.”

“Of course, besides, hmm, I dunno, not making our sponsors upset? By like possibly following the very slight and basic set of rules we’ve been given?” George snipped, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. He sighed to himself and went to get out of the car when Fred grabbed his arm.

“Hey, you agreed to this too, you know-”

“Yes, at the behest of my lovely fiance and my snot nosed, ant thorax of a barely older brother and as such, I’m driving this thing when this shit factory of a drag race starts.” He whacked Fred’s arm away and exited the car, immediately all but smiles on his face as he went to greet his friends, a sporadic and adrenaline heated Fred on his tail.

“Well if it isn’t the two most obnoxious bastards in NASCAR,” Fred turned to see his best friend and ex-pit crew member, Roger Davies, and excitedly gripped him in a hug, hands clapping backs and tears falling down cheeks at the renewal of friendship.

“Georgie! Look, it's Rog!”

“Holy shit, not my first husband-!”

“Your only husband, Weasley number 5, and Fred can disagree all he wants,” Roger grinned and pulled both boys into a hug before whispering in their ear, “watch out for Finnegan and Thomas, boys, the cheating hasn’t stopped since last season,” leaving the twins utterly confused.

“Oi! Not another sleepover without me?” Boomed Dean from behind them. Roger immediately pushed past the two entirely confused twins and went to clap Dean on the back.

“Just getting them acquainted with the rules before a race...you know how hard it is to follow all the rules, don’t you, mate?” Roger winked and headed back to the twins, moving them back to the car as all the other drivers retreated to theirs.

“Rog, what was all that?” Fred whispered.

“Dean has been known to be a bit...well, shifty as of late with these. Always been a bit of a windy bloke, you get it, but ever since Target dropped him from the sponsorship he hasn’t really been...getting off as much in racing as he used to.” Roger nervously laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, leaning against the back of George’s car.

“By ‘cheating’ what does that entail?” George crossed his arms in repose.

“He’s always been a thrill chaser, you know this, Georgie.”

That was true, Dean had always been after a nice high. An adrenaline junkie back at primary school, Dean and Fred (as George unfortunately remembered) would feed off each other like invasive flowers, the group think of two singularly aggressive and needy young boys clouding the canopy of their friends (and brothers) with misfortune. Anything from groundings to almost arrests to nights spent aimlessly wandering the London streets in the wee hours of the morning - to Dean’s favorite: bets.

Dean would bet and bet and bet if his life depended on it and when it came to racing, if there was a bet out in his name to win, he was sure as shit going to make sure that he was the winner, this led to more and more alterations to his cars, some that even street racing frowned upon. The media never got their hands on the true reason Dean had lost his Target sponsorship; just one simple, illegal, engine part. One that gave him the lead in a race that caught him out. 

“How hasn’t someone banned him then?” George laughed, looking over at his friends, only for Roger to clear his throat with a chuckle himself.

“You can’t ban someone from street racing, Georgie, not without the authority that NASCAR has.” Roger explained, pushing away from George’s car to head towards his own. “See you on the track, boys.” 

“Track?” Fred choked over the words, confused thoroughly at this point.

“I don’t think we’re in for just a drag race, Freddie.” George gulped, watching Roger slip inside his car, the lights flashing on and the sounds of rumbling engines echoing through the air. 

—

“What do you mean I can’t drive your car.” Fred practically whined, if his eyes rolled any harder they would be in the back of his head.

“I mean what I said, dumbass, you’re not driving my car.” George protested, his arms crossing over his chest as he stood protectively in front of the driver’s side door.

“But you’d let me drive it in a drag race, that doesn’t make any sense, like at all.” 

“That was when you had to drive in a straight line, you are not putting my baby in danger just to race her round a track.”

“Your baby? George, you do realise I race too right?” 

“Fuck off. You’re not driving, that’s final.”

“Yes the fuck I am, now move.” Fred was practically pushing his brother out of the way as he tried to get himself in the driver’s seat. “Twenty minutes ago you didn’t even want to be here, now you want to drive?”

“Fine.” George sighed, finally stepping aside, only to grab the back of Fred’s shirt. “One scratch and you’ll be fixing it, either that or I’ll break you.” 

“I’m not gonna crash the car, George, now get in.” Fred slid inside the car, George following suit on the passenger side. Fred went to pull out of the space that George had parked the car in, only to stall, dropping the clutch out of excitement, causing his younger brother to yell, out loud and quickly. 

“Nope! I’m not doing this.”

“Fucking hell, George, shut up I can drive.” 

—

There was something about the way tires kicked dust up as they sped around the dirt track that had Fred on edge. This race was unlike anything he’d ever seen or been a part of before, if he was being brutally honest it was exhilarating to be doing something like this, much more so when his brother was sat in the passenger seat. He didn’t need to look over or even take his eyes off the road to know that George was already being hypercritical of Fred’s driving skills, especially when the livelihood of his pride and joy of a car lay in another’s hands.

If George were gripping the steering wheel in that moment, his knuckles would have been well and truly white, watching clouds upon clouds of dust spray over the freshly washed exterior of his car. Instead, George’s hand was dripped tightly on the door, bracing himself for the sharp corners and bumpy jolts, thinking about how all the up and down was surely going to fuck his suspension. 

Fred laughed to himself, but mostly at the way his twin was acting, almost as if George hadn’t spent most of his adult life behind the wheel of a car driving faster than any other man would dream of. Fred shouted over the roar of the engine “Jesus, Georgie, let loose a little will you?”

“I’d be way less uptight if you would have just let me drive.” George replied, sighing to himself, a small ‘woah’ falling from his mouth at the feeling of the back wheels spinning.

“It’s a bit fucking late for that decision.” Fred laughed back, passing a car that had the unfortunate and untimely end of spinning themselves off the joke of a track. Once the dust parted and George saw the mess in front of him, his eyes widened, heart racing if it could have beaten any faster.

“I will kill you if you do that.” the younger man grumbled, watching Fred speed past car after car, pushing them up the ranks. 

“I told you I won’t crash your precious car… I’m starting to think you love her more than your lovely lady.” Fred bit his lower lip to stop himself laughing at his own comment. Looking up in the rear view mirror, he spotted the glistening black and bright blue of Roger and Dean gaining on the lead the twins had.

It was nearing what Fred hoped to be the end of the track, watching as the finish line grew nearer with every second. In what seemed to be all at once, a loud revving came in from Fred’s Left, The lightning bolt blue car overtaking George’ in a matter of seconds, pushing right past the finish line without a care in the world. Following closely in second was Dean’s beauty of a car, Fred managing to keep right behind his two friends, pulling third rank in the race. 

—

Fred was the first out of the car, slamming the door behind him as his rage was starting to bubble out from his lungs. George hurried to catch up with his older brother, the look in his eyes and his body language evident that nothing short of violent impulsivity would amount from the situation. Fred pushed past Roger, ignoring the pleas for peace, he was never mad at Rog, Rog deserved a top rank, but his anger was centered towards Dean.

Dean needed a nice loss.

“Oi, Thomas.” He got closer to the man, Dean turning around slowly, a haughty sense of pride glazed on his face. “What’s wrong, Freddie, I’d figured after your little twelfth place at the table third should be a nice welcome to you,” he drawled, before Fred lunged at him, getting held back only by Davies.

“Aw, does poor little Freddie still need a babysitter?”

“Open that mouth one more fucking time-”

“Fred-” Roger stuttered.

“No,” he pushed from his grasp and proceeded to get inches from Dean’s face

Dean smirked and leaned back to grab a beer from the cooler beside him. “Fred. Your little tough guy act doesn’t scare me anymore, you know that.”

George stepped up next to Fred, “It’s not an act, mate, I think you know us well enough by now to get that we don’t take kindly to cheaters,” he said softly, rising to his full height.

Dean immediately leaned back at the sight of the two gingers, and even going as far as shrinking at the pure sight of Roger Davies, not as tall but definitely as intimidating, standing between them.

“The track never did cater to a liar, Thomas, we figured you’d know that by now,” Roger added quietly. 

Dean scoffed, the adrenaline clearly rising in his chest, as the men behind him started to eye each other, the violence of the situation reaching a silent all time high. “I’m not gonna take shit from a losing tosser, his stooge of a younger brother, and a dumb blonde-“ 

Fred had launched himself all the way forward, his index and thumb forming a U shape as he grabbed Dean’s face, slamming it directly into the window. Dean struggled in Fred’s grasp, lifeless and sloppy fists flying in every direction possible. When Fred finally pulled off the boy and began to walk off, a smug and bloody smirk gracing his haughty face, Seamus lunged forward, a punch matching the back of Fred’s head. 

A full on fight occurred, George rushing forward to slam Seamus to the ground, dust flying in every which way under the artificial lights. Fred had taken to pummeling Dean as if he was losing himself entirely in aggression.

The twins had always had an aggressive streak - but it had rarely been released in their current younger years of “adulthood.” 

Amongst the mess of brawling fists and kicked up dirt, Roger had managed to summon the presence of one of the two Weasley girls - you, the understanding quick thinker with a tendency to be for whatever your boyfriend did and Fred’s Wife, the american firecracker who rarely took no for an answer.. When you had arrived, Rog and George were stopping Fred from lurching at Dean once more, Instead you were focused on the graze that lay above George’s brow, taking a deep breath and shaking your head at just how reckless he had become. 

“George Weasley, I swear to fucking god you bastard.” You shouted, pulling him up by his bicep and pushing him back against his dust-covered car. “One night I leave you, One night and you end up in a back street race nearly getting your ass handed to you by Dean fucking Thomas-”

“It was Seamus, actually-”

“Not the fucking point, George.” you slapped his chest, only for him to wrap his arms around your waist, keeping you pulled close, a small smirk hanging off his lips.

“Fred said I needed to let loose, and I did and it was the best fun I’ve had since the end of season… but that obviously isn’t what I should be saying… I’m sorry, really am.”

You rolled your eyes, a sigh falling from your lips as you rested your head on his chest, with all the stress that NASCAR had given him, it really was the best thing that he was getting some actual joy in his free time. “At least you had fun.”

-

You knew you couldn’t be mad at him for long, not with the puppy dog eyes he was giving you as he knelt down on the floor, elbows resting on the mattress to look at you. Part of him realised that he needed to not piss you off any more than he already had, after all it was a little more than what you were expecting from him and with so much on the line after all of his hard work you were more mad at the fact he would so easily chance it.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He quipped, a small smile on his lips as he stretched his back out, leaning forward across the mattress, fingertips grazing over your knee.

“You know what you’re doing.” You sighed, trying to look away from him, only to feel his full firm grip squeeze at your thigh.

“I’m just trying to apologize to you.”

“Yeah right.”

“I know how much you gave up to be here with me, for us, for me to achieve my dreams and I only went and nearly threw it away for a cheap race and I’m sorry.” 

His eyes were glassy, filled with a sadness that you only recognised from the day he left for America, he truly was sorry for what had happened. 

“I want to make it up to you, princess.” He pushed himself up onto the bed, his head resting on the pillow, your eyes never leaving him as you watch him shift to get comfortable. 

Your hand reached out to brush the hair out of his eyes, watching his eyes flutter closed as a small sigh fell from his lips. You were quick to shift so that you lay next to him. 

“There’s nothing to make up for, Georgie.” You smiled softly, shifting slightly closer to him, feeling his hand drape lazily over your side. Something about seeing him so vulnerable made you want to protect him with your whole heart and yet he was always the one to protect you.

“There’s everything to make up for, my love.” He smirked, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours softly before pressing a small kiss to your lips. “Just let me make you feel good.”

“George you don’t–” You went to protest, but he was quick to cut you off with another kiss, this time his hand gently pulling your hips closer towards him.

“I know just the way to make things up to you.” He pushed himself up slowly, arm wrapping around you to lay you down on your back, finding his place between your thighs, your legs either side of his hips.

His hands slowly raked up your thighs, finding his way up to your hips, fingers hooking underneath the waistband to pull the material down your legs, leaving you bare from the waist down. You had almost forgotten how much of a tease George could be, the way his fingers had quickly found your clit, the long digits finding your entrance soon after, only to warm you up.

Positioning himself with your legs hooked over his shoulders, he drew in a breath, releasing the cool exhale over you as you sighed frustratedly, hips bucking to try and get some friction if any, only for his hand to push your hips back down, a chuckle falling from his lips.

The second his tongue was licking a prominent stripe along your aching pussy, you were well and truly putty in his hands. Each flick of his tongue had you squirming, unrestrained moans falling from your lips as the pleasure built.

It didn’t take him long to attach his lips to your clit, sucking relentlessly at the bundle of nerves, his fingers pushing knuckle deep into you, curling up to hit your favourite spot, having you a wordless mess of nothing but moans of his name.

“Such a pretty thing you are, baby.” He hummed, thumb coming up to circle over your clit as he watched the way you had thrown your head back, your hands finding his hair to pull him back down needily, earning a chuckle from him.

His tongue continued its work, pulling you closer and closer to release with every flick. He didn’t let up until your thighs were shaking and your chest heaving, mind clouded only with thoughts of him and how lucky you were.

—--

Fred Weasley got home all too late, the door closing a bit louder than the man had wanted behind him. The slightly elder Weasley crept from the doorway to the bedroom, careful to mind the light creaks in the hardwood floor, taking every ounce of stress on his feet to avoid any miscalculations. 

When he got to the bedroom, he saw the woman he loved, asleep no doubt by the sight of her mussed hair and lightly agape expression on her lips. Fred exhaled slowly, what he thought was quietly, until he heard her voice clearly say:

“So where were you?”

The man before her felt his heart thump harder than he felt when his own mother would corner him in the kitchen, the memories of sneaking out and sneaking back only to return with a-

“So are you going to tell me where you were?”

“Out.”

“No, really?” She spat, sitting back up and clicking the lamp on, her face etched with rage.

“I waited up for you the entire night, the least I probably deserve is an explanation.”

“Well, love, you didn’t seem to want to talk to me earlier, so I guess the lack of communication goes both ways, now move over.” he said briskly, beginning to take off his shirt. When she didn’t move, her face unwavering in anger, he rolled his jaw, swallowing back and refusing to feel the light effervescence of guilt in his throat.

“I said m-”

“I’m aware. See, Fred,” his wife exited the bed, and unfortunately for him, she was clad in only the black satin nightie he had gotten for her after his first big win. The guilt was rising now, as was something else low on his hips.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, okay? I am, I-”

“Interrupt me again, and you get the couch, got it?” He nodded, his eyes drawn to the tears welling up in hers. “Fred, I’m your wife now and-and knowing my husband, my husband was out doing god knows what or who for that matter and has the audacity to come back in at three in the morning and be pissed at me? Who the hell are you?” 

“I was racing! I was racing alright, and I’m sorry, I’m sorry I-I came in late and made you pissed because I love you and I am never going to do this again but God can you please put something else on so I can focus correctly-” and then he was kissing her, and somewhere deep in his cerebral cortex, this was probably unbearably toxic, for him to start apologizing angrily for the shit that he put her through but-

“God, you are a piece of fucking work aren’t you?” She snarled, already beginning to unbuckle and unzip his pants. 

“But ‘m your piece of work, and currently,” he spat back, mouth melding in a messy and unkempt addition to hers, the entire situation wholly and completely Fred in every way possible, as he shed himself of his shirt and picked her up, “-I’d like to be fucking you.”

It didn’t take him long to pitch her body on the bed, his wife scrunching delectably at his fiery hair and his own ropy and iron hands squeezing at the bottom of her bare thighs. It had been long, too long, and with the already latent tension from their little bathroom incident earlier in the day - there wouldn’t be any denying Fred nor his girl of a quick, ravenous fuck tonight.

“Missed you so much, baby,” she whined, yanking his head up to mold herself to him in a heated kiss, the man atop her not needing to be shown twice at her action. “Missed you more, had me fuckin’ twitching and creaming in a car earlier, you did,” he chuckled, arousal thick and evident in his tone.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” He rasped, his eyes scrunching close as one of her delightfully un-dainty and gently calloused hands palmed him over his boxers. “God, wanted you so bad, baby, wanted to just drop the towel and have you on the sink, then ‘n there.”

“You mean that?” She said shakily, as he kissed her one last time before sliding down her body, his lengthy digits trailing down above him.

“God, absolutely, and if I look under here I wonder if - oh look at that, ‘was right, wasn’t I?” Much to her disagreeing whine, he sat up on his heels, his damn near naked body covered in sweat, his myriad of constellations adorning his chest like only the finest stars in the night sky. He looked up at her, the face only him or his twin could make, rum eyes bright and full of mischief, but also something else more sinister as his fingers trailed up her thighs.

“Fred, please-”

“‘Got you, baby, don’t you worry about me,” he mused, lazily almost, while his fingers drifted higher up the apex of her thigh before-

“No.” She said simply.

“Shit, I’m sorry do you want me to stop-?”

“No.” Fred’s wife, almost too fast for him to register, threw her left thigh around his waist, gathering momentum from her other leg fast enough to get him on his back, effectively pressing her hand to the center of his chest before all he could say was:

“Didn’t know you could do that, love,” he drawled, a quirk of a brow and a little smile on his face.

“You didn’t know I could do a lot of things, Freddie.” She shot back, bringing her nails up and in to scratch at his bare chest, her hips rolling to his and rubbing his tip under his boxers so well he thought he was going to explode.

“You have any plans beyond making me cum in m’pants, dear?” He hummed, his hands reaching up and under her satin to cup and squeeze at her bare ass.

“I was planning on making you cum so hard your ears pop, actually.”

“Merlin, woman, get on with it then,” he groaned, her laugh bubbling in his ears like champagne as her nails abandoned their spot on his broad chest to the hills and valleys of his v-line, the light grazing and nimble touch causing a wanton moan to erupt from the back of his throat along with a small, “fuckin’ hell, petal.” He watched with rapt but seemingly pained eyes as she slowly - too slowly, for his personal taste - began to lift her hips and grind the tip of his erection, his palms getting more clammy as he waited with need for her to sink onto him - if she’d even give him that.

But all too soon, she stopped her rolling onto his cock, making him swear at the loss of contact. “Goddamnit, fuck me already.”

“Oh, Freddie,” she preened, moving a hand back to cover one of his own sliding it to her soaking cunt, “after how bad you’ve been today? And you think I’m gonna reward you? Baby…” she drawled, reaching down to squeeze his thick cock, the action alone making him grunt and his neck veins pulsate with life.

“‘Do anything y’want, anything,” he whined, desperately trying to fuck his hips up to meet her friction. He knew his wife would push him, push him to the absolute limit until his dick exploded and his throat gave out from how hard he’d be screaming, she’d done it before, but it was so late, and God, he needed to bury himself deep in the milk and honey of her sex before it was too late.

“Then you have to be a good boy, Freddie, remember?”

“I know, I know, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, ma’am,” he babbled, the pleasure and lack of stimulation running through his veins. “Please,” he whimpered, his voice small and pliant like rubber.

She cocked a brow at him, curling her shiny red nails around his chin and gently tilting him toward hers. 

“Been so bad, baby boy, but I guess ‘m gonna have to give you a treat some time…you just look so delicious like this,'' she purred, moving her hands to the swell of his bulge, delighting in the whine that escaped his throat like the rush of water in a stream (or something a bit more sinful in its entirety.) Fred’s wife swiftly lifted his cock free from it’s confines, his hands coming immediately to steady at her hip bones and kneading greedy circles into the tough skeleton. 

“Ready f’me, precious?”

“Fred, don’t be pretending you’re the one on top at present,” 

“Good Lord, woman, stop the banter and rock already.” The two chuckled breathlessly at Fred’s words, his wife pressing an airy kiss to his red and puckered mouth before bringing her cunt to just barely graze his tip, a movement that had the ginger subjected to her ministrations roll his eyes back and murmur a throaty “fuck” against her lips. 

“Baby, please-“

“I know, Freddie, my love ‘ve got you,” she whispered before finally sinking down onto him, both partners releasing hisses and throaty moans at the feeling of being one.

It took no time at all for the ginger beneath to bring his hands to her now bouncing ass, guiding her roughly to every ridge of his cock. She was sloppy, the ride of pushing Fred’s high further and further to the forefront of his system. Fred oh the other hand had started to spastically fuck up into her now, moaning out her name the more he listened to the sound of her wet cunt being slid up and down on his thick cock. 

She was close, dangerously close, the feeling of his balls clapping against the bottom of her ass in time with her pants. Fred was in nirvana, the way the light graced the sides of her face making her look like the most fallen of angels when-

“Fred, I can’t, I, please”

“I know, bub, ‘m right there with you,” he coaxed, all too soft in contrast with the rampant fucking he was giving her, waiting until he could feel her about to soak his cock before flipping her over, almost too quickly throwing her legs around his waist and thrusting further than what he thought was possible. His hands gripped hers and somewhere in his mind he blacked out against the feeling of the black satin rubbing against his torso. 

“Baby-“

“Fred-“

Fred relished the feeling of her collapsing around him, his back fully extended as he rolled softly and slowly into her to push them through their conjoined high. He loved this, he always had, how her body heaved gently under his and his hands and mouth could whisper sweet nothings into her skin, soothing her form and giving her all the love he could possibly muster. 

“I am sorry you know, bub.” He finally said after a while, his hands rubbing back and forth on her thighs. 

She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his nose and then his lips, smiling lightly against his mouth as her eyes fluttered shut, “yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Just…don’t do it again okay-?” She whispered.

“Baby, you know I won’t. Scout’s honor ‘n all-“

“You didn’t let me finish, Weasley!”

“Well, then what’s the rest of it?” 

She smiled at him before craning her lips to his ear: “next time you drag race, I better watch.”

She giggled when he threw the covers above their heads.

—

It was two days later, the sun blaring just as brightly as it had when Dean Thomas proposed a drag race, and now, as the front door bells jingled an entrance, the twins had done something they didn’t last time.

“We’re closed,” they both said flatly, not looking up from the respective cars.

“Even for me?” A familiar voice asked the boys, causing them both to raise their heads.

“Sirius!” They both squawked, the lanky men scrambling to their feet to hug their favorite agent, the older man hugging them back immediately.

“Why’ve you come from LA?”

“Yeah, is something wrong? I can guarantee you whatever it was it was 100% George’s fault-”

“Fred.”

“Sorry.”

Sirius released a small smile that had been tugging at his face the whole interaction. “Boys, I’ve got a bit of an announcement for you.”

“And what would that be?” George asked suspiciously. Fred looked out the corner of his eye at his twin, and all Sirius did was throw his hands out and up.

“Boys: we’re going to Monaco.”

[starsstuddedsky]

Blonde Phase

Renjun x gn reader

summary: spontaneous hair decisions always end in regret. that's what you expect to hear when you tell renjun you're bleaching your hair, but instead you find support, and even his help. you should appreciate his wholehearted support but instead it has you wondering: why doesn't he care?

genre: fluff, minimal angst, technically they're in grad school but that's not particularly relevant, non idol au,

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, spontaneous hair decisions (i do not endorse), lmk if I missed any

wc: 4.4k

a/n: in the immortal words of charles boyle, the most intimate thing you can do with a lover is wash their hair. yknow i made fun of him for that until i wrote this. i see it. also its been so long since ive finishing anything, pls forgive me if this is bad. renjun i love u. as always I'd love to hear what you think <3

“I’m bleaching my hair.” If you say it fast enough, Renjun won’t be able to talk you out of it. The plastic bag swings around your wrist as you walk across the parking lot. “I’ve already bought the bleach and gloves and stuff, and I’m going to do it, today.”

He’s quiet for so long you check to make sure the call hasn’t dropped. “Okay.”

You almost drop your phone. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, drawing the word out. “Was I supposed to say something else?”

“Um, yeah?” You say. “You have opinions about literally everything. You talked me out of buying those pants two days ago.” You finally get to your car, tossing the bag onto the passenger seat and half-falling behind the wheel.

“That’s because they were made of polyester, and the thrift store was still charging $15,” he says immediately. “That was a scam.”

“Money is temporary, drip is forever.”

“Those pants would have lasted a year max, before they fell apart, and you still haven’t learned how to sew so you wouldn’t even be able to mend them or upcycle them.”

“You know what, I didn’t buy the pants, so this fight is moot,” you say. You set the phone on speaker, turning the engine on to blast the AC.

“Well, not moot. Technically I won,” Renjun says.

“I’d respect you more if you weren’t insufferable.”

“Here I was thinking you appreciated my insight,” he says. “You even asked for it.”

“I did not!”

“You literally asked about bleaching your hair.”

“I said I was surprised you didn’t have an opinion, not that I wanted to hear it,” you say.

“Semantics,” Renjun says. “So what time do you want to come over?”

You frown. “Tonight?”

“The roommates are out of town for the whole weekend, and I have way better ventilation,” he says. “I’d much rather bleach it without passing out.” He pauses. “You do want help, right?”

“Honestly, I was not expecting support. I was fully ready to fight you on this,” you say.

He snorts. “Come over whenever, I'm not doing anything today.”

“See you in twenty minutes.” You hang up, feeling a strange ball of tension roll around in your gut. That was… too easy? Renjun always has something to say about your admittedly impulsive tendencies. But if he’s going to help you’re not going to reject it—knowing Renjun he’s probably already watching Youtube videos and learning more than you will ever know about bleaching hair.

And it’s Renjun. When have you done anything without his help?

.

.

Renjun opens the door wearing a wearied expression. He doesn’t bother to greet you or even smile, just unlocks the door and steps to the side.

“Hi to you, too,” you say, trading your shoes for the spare slippers resting by the doormat. You follow Renjun into the space that serves as kitchen, dining room, living room, and Jaemin’s miniature gym, with weights and mats stacked next to the television.

“Who the hell clogs a toilet and then leaves for the weekend,” Renjun says.

You set down your plastic bag full of hair products and frown. “That’s disgusting.”

Renjun leans against the counter. “And you didn’t have to spend the last forty minutes trying to unclog it.”

“So which of the guys are you going to murder?” You try to guess, running through his roommates: you find it hard to believe Jaemin would do such a thing. Jeno maybe, and Donghyuck would certainly think it’s funny. But, in all honesty, it could have been any of them.

“Don’t know,” Renjun says, “but knowing them, they’ll make a pact to protect each other.”

“Seriously?”

Renjun pauses, gaze sheepish. “It’s what I did when I accidentally killed Jaemin’s little succulent that survived his college dorm.”

You fake a gasp, placing a hand over your chest. “Every day I learn something new about you. That’s devious.”

“I was drunk!” Renjun says, holding up a finger. “And Jeno and Donghyuck pushed me into it, so it was equally their fault.”

“If you say so.” You glance around the apartment. “Where are they all?”

“Jaemin’s visiting family, Jeno has a soccer tournament, and Donghyuck said he’s going camping with Yangyang.” Renjun says, counting off with his fingers.

“Donghyuck and Yangyang are friends?”

“Yeah, according to them they bonded over dealing with me.”

“Those were their exact words?”

“Dealing with my ‘stupid ass,’” Renjun says.

“That’s more on brand.”

Renjun nods.

You think about Yangyang, Renjun’s friend from when he was a kid. You’ve met him a few times now, especially since he’s moved half an hour away from Renjun. He’s fun, always bringing out a chaotic side of Renjun whether it’s dancing on a bar or bringing out angry-Renjun. But Yangyang and Donghyuck?

“That’s a terrible friendship. They’re going to ruin you.”

Renjun nods again, but you see the smile hiding in his eyes. He can rant all he wants, you know he’s excited his friends are getting closer with each other.

You point at the bag. “So where are we doing this?”

You half expect him to lecture you about rash hair decisions but he just gestures to the kitchen. “I figure right here should be fine. The tiles should be pretty easy to clean and probably could use some bleach anyway.”

He drags the chair with a rickety leg from the dining table. You dig through the bag and set everything on the counter. While Renjun cracks a window open, you begin to mix the developer and the bleach, curling your lip at the sharp scent. Renjun joins you, pulling on a pair of gloves.

“Wow that’s strong,” he says, wincing.

“Yeah,” you say. “Definitely a good idea to do it here.”

When the powder is finally combined, you sit on the chair, Renjun following behind you. You section off your hair together, then he grabs the bowl and the brush.

He holds the thick paintbrush brush up against your hair, glancing at you, giving you one last chance to back down. You give him the nod of approval and he shifts back to focusing on your hair, brushing the bleach into it as carefully as he spreads paint on a canvas. He works section by section, carefully drenching your hair with the creamy solution.

“So, are you going to tell me why you decided to do this?”

You can’t resist turning and glancing at him. “I thought you approved.”

“I didn’t try to talk you out of it,” he says, “that doesn’t mean I’m not curious about how you came to this decision.”

You nod until Renjun uses his gloved hand to hold your head straight. “I suppose that’s fair.”

You pause, trying to find the right words. But you find yourself drifting back to Renjun. Why didn’t he ask this before the bleach was in your hair? It’s not like him to keep his opinions to himself. When you first met him, he was yelling at Donghyuck for going to a philosophy seminar just to fight with the notorious bigot of a professor (which Donghyuck did and then got kicked out, and proceeded to get the professor suspended). You only knew Mark back then, a friend from another class who invited you to meet some of his other friends in the dining hall. When Renjun turned to ask what you thought, you said Donghyuck should do what he thinks is right. Renjun didn’t hesitate to call you an idiot then. So why isn’t he calling you an idiot now?

To his credit Renjun doesn’t rush you. He continues to paint the bleach into your hair, content to wait for you to figure out an answer. Except you’re thinking about all the wrong questions. Like, seriously, why do you want him to call you an idiot?

“I want a change,” you finally say. “I’m stuck in a degree that will make me absolutely no money when I graduate, I can’t afford to break my lease, and don’t have any major relationships that need upheaving, so, hair.”

“‘A change?’” Renjun repeats. “Like, you woke up this morning and thought, today I’m going blonde?”

“Like, I have this feeling in my chest, this aching feeling that there’s something I need to do, someone I’m supposed to be, something more than the person I see in the mirror but I’ve made my decisions and I’m happy with my decisions and I genuinely like who I am. So, hair.”

You see Renjun’s hand falter out of the corner of your eye, halfway between the bleach mixture and your hair. He freezes for a heartbeat then continues to move, lifting some hair off your ear, careful not to brush the bleach onto your skin.

“‘So, hair,’” he says.

“Are you really going to repeat everything I say?”

This gets a short laugh from him. “I think the fumes are getting to me already.” He pauses, setting down the brush and stepping in front of you. “For what it’s worth, I like who you are, too. I’m really glad we’re friends.”

You smile at him. “Me too,” you say. “I definitely would have fucked up trying to bleach this on my own.”

.

.

“There’s still some bleach left,” Renjun says after he finishes with your roots. “You’re sure you don’t want your eyebrows to match?”

“Why don’t we do your eyebrows,” you say. “Better yet, why don’t we shave them off?”

Renjun sets down the brush. “Okay, no eyebrows.”

You grin at him. “That’s what I thought.”

He helps you get a plastic bag wrapped securely over your head, then sets the timer.

“What do you want to do for the next half hour?” You ask. “Preferably something that requires little to no movement.” You gesture to your head. “We’re not winning any frisbee tournaments tonight.”

“It was one time,” Renjun mutters, shaking his head and stepping around you plop down onto the couch. “We can watch something.”

You follow him, sitting on the other side, a cushion between you. The space feels strangely empty. Though you’ve spent plenty of time alone with Renjun, even alone with him at his apartment, the silence is usually interrupted by one of the guys getting bored of playing League, or coming back because they can’t go out to a bar without someone forgetting their ID, or in desperate need of Renjun’s expert advice (read: Jeno never remembers to ask Renjun to look over his submissions until 12 minutes before they’re due). The cushion between you never stays empty for long but the moments stretch on, only making the distance feel greater.

You wonder, not for the first time, how long it’s been since you’ve thought of Renjun as just a friend. If he was just a friend, you wouldn’t care so much about what he thinks. And if he was just a friend, you wouldn’t care so much that he suddenly doesn’t think.

You sneak a glance at him, fiddling with the remote for a couple seconds before realizing he grabbed the wrong one. He’s certainly always been handsome—that was undeniable from the moment you met him. But more than just being good looking, it’s Renjun himself. Not just those dark eyes, but the way they burn with passion (even when he’s arguing about the proper number of appetizers to order). It’s his perfectly shaped lips, the way they betray how he feels with a slight curve up or down—and his smile. Always, always his smile, beautiful and breathtaking even though you’ve seen it a thousand times.

He turns, a little furrow in his brow. “What?”

“Hm?”

“You’re looking at me funny,” he says. “Did I get bleach in my hair or something?”

You turn to face the TV, trying to pay attention to the show Renjun chose. “I wasn’t looking at you funny,” you say. “I wasn’t even looking at you.”

“If you say so,” Renjun says, “but if there’s a blonde spot anywhere in my hair, I’m so making you pay for it.”

You shake your head. Where the hell did those thoughts come from? Renjun, more than a friend? Sure, you’re close with him and sure, he’s objectively attractive, but you’ve never had those thoughts before. Well, at least not sober.

“Um, why are we watching Singles Inferno?”

“Because I asked and you were too busy not staring at me to answer, so I put it on,” Renjun says. “And don’t you dare try to tell me you don’t like it. I saw you rant on your Instagram story the other day.”

“Okay, but you don’t get it,” you say. “This bitch really has the audacity to to—”

“I saw your post,” Renjun says. “Believe me, I get it.”

“If you didn’t want to hear about it you should not have turned it on, because now I can’t stop,” you say. Renjun rolls his eyes but even as you delve into a full on essay about the horrible men particularly common in dating shows, you see the corners of his lips tilt up into a smile.

.

.

The timer goes off halfway through an episode.

“Saved by the buzzer,” Renjun says. “I’m putting a ban on anything reality TV related for the next three hours.”

“You’re the one that brought it up,” you mutter without any real annoyance. Despite his banter, Renjun dutifully listened to your rants, and even got mad along with you.

You drag a chair to the sink while Renjun drapes a towel over your shoulders. He puts on gloves and unwraps the bag, letting your hair fall into the empty sink.

“Close your eyes,” Renjun says gently. He tilts your head back, cupping the back of your head for a moment before pulling the head of the sink faucet out. He runs the water, long enough for you to peek your eyes open.

You’ve gotten used to seeing Renjun focused. He gets a little furrow in his brow, always glaring at his work. Before you were friends, you used to think he was actually angry, that his frowns and short tone were real. You’ve learned since then, it’s not his emotions, it’s his passion. The frown only comes out when he’s focused, trying to be perfect. When he cares.

“Unless you want bleach in them, close your eyes,” Renjun mutters, with absolutely no malice behind the words. His eyes shift to meet yours and that’s how you know you’re right. He can glare and bluster all he wants, he can’t hide his eyes, warm and shining. Like when he’s looking at his art, his gaze is a combination of soft and intense, creating something stronger than affection. Except he’s not looking at his art, he’s looking at you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your heartbeat pick up. Despite every attempt to shut down the thoughts, they race through your head, a stampede grown out of control. Renjun, who you’ve only known a year and a half but who has become one of your closest friends. Renjun, who never fails to share the only opinion you really care about. Renjun, who you can’t imagine life without. Renjun, who you’ve never dared to imagine life with.

He places a hand on your forehead, bringing the faucet closer to rinse your roots while keeping the water from pouring onto your face. You prepare for a cold shock but the water that soaks into your hair is the perfect temperature—not scalding hot, not freezing cold. Some water sprays over his hand, falling onto your eyelids and cheeks.

“Sorry,” Renjun murmurs. He holds the head farther away, running his fingers gently through the roots of your hair. He’s so close you can feel his breath, warm against your temple. You can feel his body, hovering over yours, and maybe it’s just your imagination, but warmth seems to emanate from it.

His friends would laugh at you if you described Renjun as soft to their face, but it’s the only adjective that captures the way he works the water through your hair. Soft and gentle and careful and nothing like the Renjun that has to corral everyone into his car at 3 in the morning. And yet this Renjun doesn’t feel like a stranger to you.

Washing your hair takes a lifetime, but as soon as he steps away and turns off the water, you miss it. You miss him, even though he’s only a couple feet away.

“You can open your eyes now,” he says. As soon as you do, he tosses a towel at you. It hits you in the face before you can get your hands up.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” Renjun says, not sounding sorry at all. He manages to hold back the laugh but still grins at you, unashamed. He steps forward and pats your face dry, with the same gentleness as before, though there’s still a mischievous glint in his eyes. You yank the towel away before he gets any ideas, drying off your face on your down and wrapping it around your hair. You wring it out a couple times before letting go, doing your best to get it to fall evenly around your head.

You raise your eyebrows at Renjun. “Okay, how bad is it?”

“Okay, first of all, I’m insulted that you think there’s any way I’d fuck up you hair,” Renjun says. “And it looks really good. Blonde suits you.”

You take a deep breath and pull out your phone, studying yourself in the mirror and… he’s right. The color is even, somewhere between blonde and orange that is unavoidable when using bleach. Radical hair changes generally end in tears but looking at yourself in the mirror, you don’t feel the usual dissonance. The hair is different but somehow more familiar than the “normal” you that doesn’t feel right anymore.

“I’m right,” Renjun says.

You smile. “Yeah, you are.” You put down your phone, meeting his eyes. “Thank you, Renjun.”

“For what?”

“Doing all of this for me,” you say.

“It’s the least I could do,” he mumbles. “You’re my friend.”

You shake your head. “Thank you anyways.”

Renjun just shrugs and grabs the bowl, rinsing out the bleach in the sink. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s avoiding your eyes.

You do your best to clean up the bleach from the floor, busying yourself until Renjun finishes. You wonder if you’re imagining the tiles getting a little bit whiter. Finally, he turns off the water and glances at you.

“You’re really happy with it?” He asks, sounding more like he doubts you rather than changing his opinion.

“Yeah,” you say, standing up. “I think it’s the ‘me’ of right now, you know?”

“Not really.”

“Like, I feel disjointed, and blonde hair is definitely not me, but it's the me that feels kind of all over the place, so even though it doesn’t look like me, it looks like me.” You wring your hands together, fingers tinged red.

“That makes no sense,” Renjun says, “but I think I get what you mean.” He smiles. “And I’m glad. I wouldn’t want you to have any regrets.”

So he did think this was a potential mistake? Why didn’t he say anything?

Renjun turns back to the sink, but before he can turn the water on, your voice calls his name. “Renjun?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t turn around.

“Why didn’t you fight me on this?”

He doesn’t move for a long moment. You wish you could see his face. “I have been told by certain people,” he begins, which is code for Donghyuck and Yangyang certified their position as Renjun’s worst nightmare. He turns to face you, wiping his hands on a towel.

“That I have a tendency to be overly opinionated in a generally negative direction. And I thought about it, and I realized I'm never really fully supportive, whether it’s a big decision, or, like, coffee, and I’ve always been this way, but, apparently, it’s especially… apparent with you.” He frowns. “This is all coming out wrong. I’m trying to say that it’s different when I’m around you. I’m different.”

Your eyes jump between his, trying to decipher what he’s saying. “Different?”

“I care a lot about you,” Renjun says, “more than anyone, actually.”

“Oh.” You blink once, twice. “Wait, you like me?”

Renjun’s eyes shift to the floor. “Yeah.”

You can’t help but let out a short laugh, reeling at the absurdity of it all. Renjun likes you? But he’s Renjun. Even though he’s the most common main character in your daydreams, you never once realistically thought he might be fantasizing about you too. But he likes you.

“I really didn’t want to say anything, I mean, before anything else you’re my friend, and I don’t want to ruin that,” Renjun says rapidly. “We’re good friends, and I really didn’t want to be the guy that pretends to be your friend but just wants to date you the whole time, that’s really not what I was trying to do, it’s just—”

“Renjun.” You put a hand on his shoulder and he freezes mid sentence, mouth still hanging open a little. Before he can move, you lean closer, the type of line you’d only dare to cross in your dreams.

“I’d like to kiss you,” you say softly. He blinks, eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

“I’d like that,” he finally breathes. So you kiss him.

It starts light, his lips exactly as you imagined—soft and warm. His arm works its way around your waist, pulling you closer. The other works its way into your hair, still wet and sticking to your head. Renjun kisses like he’s been planning this for a long time, and maybe he has. Every movement is slow and careful, until he’s stolen all your air and even then you don’t want to pull away.

Your bravery fades the minute you meet his eyes. You bury your face into his chest, your cheek resting against your own hand. Renjun wraps both of his arms around you, holding you snugly in place.

“I like you, too,” you say into his chest. It’s the cowards route but if you look him in the eyes the words will never come out. “If it wasn’t obvious.”

“It wasn’t actually,” he says softly. “I think I drove all of my friends insane trying to figure out whether I should confess or not.”

“They all know?” You groan. “We’re never going to hear the end of this.”

“Yeah.” When Renjun laughs, it shakes your whole body. You can feel the rumbling, overtaking his heartbeat. “It’s okay though. It’s worth it.”

You turn your head, emerging from the sanctuary of his chest and tucking your head so that you can see his face. He smiles at you with the familiar warmth you’ve come to expect.

“Yeah,” you say, “it really is.”

Renjun grins.

“Your hair on the other hand…” He says.

“I thought you liked it!”

“I like it,” Renjun says, “but when has Donghyuck ever liked a single change to anyone’s hair?”

“Since when do you care what Donghyuck thinks?”

“I’m just saying now that we’re officially dating, my friends are going to be extra annoying,” Renjun says.

“Extra annoying? I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Don’t underestimate them.”

You groan, pressing your face back into his chest. “It’s not too late to get some hair dye.”

“You are not changing your hair because of my dumbass friends,” Renjun says.

“You like it?”

“You like it,” he says. “That’s the only opinion that really matters.” He pauses then adds, “But yeah. I like it.”

You grin, lifting your head to kiss his cheek. “Maybe we should dye your hair too.”

Renjun snorts. “Oh yeah?”

“We could have matching couples hair.”

He laughs out loud this time. “Maybe we should just get some shirts.”

“Three minutes of dating and you already want matching shirts? Huang Renjun, be honest.” You push off of him until you can place your hands on his shoulders and look him in the eyes. “Are you obsessed with me?”

“Yes,” he says, layering his voice in sarcasm that still isn’t enough to hide the truth of the admission. “All day every day, all I think about is you.”

“Well, see, that can’t be true because if you were that obsessed and I’m this close, you would already be kissing me because—” You forget whatever you were going to say, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when Renjun is kissing you like this. Your hands at his shoulders slink around his neck, while his wrap around your waist, leaning so close to you, you feel your back begin to dip.

Huang Renjun is poison, the kind that turns into a heart-shaped puff of pink when the bottle is opened. You melt into his kiss and it’s still not enough. You could die, right this instant, and you don’t think you’d notice. Death itself wouldn’t be able to tear you away from this moment.

“Renjun!” Donghyuck’s voice thunders through the kitchen. “How dare you? You bastard, you’re cheating?”

You jump apart, turning to see him looming in the doorway. His glare settles on you, and you see the exact moment he realizes he recognizes you.

“Jesus Christ, you could have knocked or something,” Renjun says.

“I live here too,” Donghyuck says automatically. He squints, then looks at Renjun, then back at you. “YN? Your hair is blonde.”

For some reason, you raise your hand and wave at him. “Hey!”

“Oh my god!” Donghyuck cries. “Yangyang owes me thirty dollars!” He races back out the door, screaming something that’s lost as the door swings shut.

You glance at Renjun. “Cheating?”

He frowns at the door, still a crack open. “Did he… seriously think you were someone else? That I was cheating on my unrequited crush?”

His eyes shift to yours. A heartbeat passes and you burst into laughter. His friends might be annoying, but they’re still endearing. You press a messy, smile-infested kiss to his lips and wonder if you’ll ever get used to the giddy feeling.

There’s plenty messy in your life, plenty to doubt. But watching Yangyang and Donghyuck drag their backpacks in (apparently Donghyuck forgot his power bank and they decided to give up on camping) as they attempt to interrogate Renjun on every detail, you can’t help but feel like it doesn’t really matter. You don’t doubt Renjun. You don’t doubt blonde suits you. And you don’t doubt the power of a last minute hair decision, not anymore.

thank you for reading!! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated

[stardancerluv]

A Space Journey

Part Two

Summary: New developments for Tyler. Reader and Tyler

Notes/Warnings: Mentions of fights in Tyler’s past. Esteem issues with Reader. Company induced angst with Tyler. Drinking. (Be safe and responsibly)

Runs long. It’s been writing itself. Ooh, he so deserved better.

❤️s, feedback, comments & reblogs are welcome!

Tyler, stood outside of the office. Opening and closing his hands, unease prickled him. The rain was particularly heavy today and he was more then happy to be out of it. He couldn’t imagine what they would want. He just had a very good salvage. They should be happy.

“Harrison, get in here.”

Turning sharply on his heal he went into the office. He bit the inside of his cheek when he saw a high ranking military officer and someone from the science office.

“You wanted to see me sir.” He kept his eye level straight. Just past the balding, company man that sat behind the desk and directed to to his salvages.

“Yes, Harrison. We’ve noticed you.”

The seat creaked as he sat back.

He felt his heart pick up speed.

“Me sir?”

The man nodded. “One of our bigger cargo ships has gone missing. It’s beacon recently came back online but no one is answering any of the coms we sent.”

The man gave an indifferent shrug.

“Perhaps, space pirates took it, raided it and killed the crew; we can’t be sure. But we want you to go and look into it.”

“When sir?”

“Fifteen days, Harrison.”

“If I may, depending on where it is why not send me now and perhaps I’ll come back faster then planned like with the Omega 17 salvage I just came back from.”

For a moment, a smug expression fell over his face. The pay day and his efficiency was superb. But he caught himself, and went back to a blank expression.

The man behind the desk chuckled.

“Told you guys, my boy is motivated.” The glanced at the two other men. “And he’s good. My best.” He gave him a smile. It made his stomach churn.

The military man stepped forward. “We believe, this time you will encounter hostiles.”

He pressed his lips together.

“Alright. I’ve never dealt with hostiles or anyone for that matter.”

“What about the few fights that led to a late night, dawn in one of the 4 by 10 rooms?” The man’s razor thin mouth cracked into a smirk that spread across his face.

This was beginning to sound like something he may not walk away from. He felt ill.

“Easy. You will get some training. You don’t get it, it doesn’t sink in before we need to ship out; we replace you.

“Hey, you said it would be my man we’re using.” The man behind the desk genuinely rankled.

Tyler never would have guessed that he cared one way or another.

The military officer shrugged. “My men will give you a rundown on how to handle yourself.”

“What about my crew?”

“Honestly? We are well aware of how important your family is to you, they can stay on the Corbelan IV, your cousin doesn’t need any help from us. Or we can give you a different crew.”

The man’s tone was as flat and as unforgiving as he looked.

“We don’t care as long as you accomplish what we want you for.”

“How’s the payout?”

The man behind the desk let out a chuckle. The military officer glanced down at him and back to him.

“If it all works out you will be able refit uthe Corbelan IV with the repairs its been needing and more.”

“Alright done.”

“Go to quadrant twenty seven at eight hundred hours tomorrow.”

********

Tyler, moved through throngs of people. Another miserable day in Jackson. His mind was a jumble. Did be really say yes?

“Baby want a good time?” Hand reached out, he grimaced and shook his head barely stopping.

He had to get out here. You all did. Damn, you had never even see anything else.

He was grateful, when he got to the Corbelan no one was there. He needed some time to think.

He plopped down in one of the chairs. It barely gave under his weight. But it would have to do. Looking out of the shuttered smudged window, he saw more dark clouds had rolled in bringing more rain.

He raked his fingers through his hair. He could do this. If he felt strong enough he’d bring the others along. How would he even explain using another crew.

He smirked to himself, at the idea of making some solid credit. They had wanted him. His eyes moved over the small sitting space. Grungy, cramped. Far too small. He rested a boot on the table.

Two small hands that had rough softness covered his eyes. A broad smile curled his lips.

“Guess who?”

He chuckled, tilting his head to one side. “My annoying sister.”

A peel of laughter came from above him.

“Guess again?“

“Oh! Oh! I know Navarro.”

“No!!!” You slipped to the side of him, hand on your hip.

“I knew it was you.”

He chuckled but as he looked you up and down, a smirk curled his lips. Damn. Even in your faded, torn company shirt and cargo pants you looked good.

“Looking good baby.”

You shrugged. “May I?“ Your eyes fell to his lap and back up to his eyes.

“Please.” He smirked pushing against the chair, it was unforgiving. So he could happily make room for you in his lap.

You easily made yourself comfortable. It relaxed him after what he had just gone through, good or bad. It had filled him with unease filled confidence if that was even possibly.

You wiggled more and then giggled.

“Tyler? Are you off world?”

Another giggle came from you.

His attention coming back to he rose an eyebrow as he saw you giving him a playfully serious look from under the shield of his cap. You were far too cute sometimes.

“Just the meeting I had.”

He made a face, mentally shrugging the feel off. He looked at you, cocking an eyebrow.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“What? Oh this?” You playfully placed your hands on his cap.

He motioned for it. “Give it back.”

“Nah, its comfy. I like it.”

He made a swipe for it. You avoided his hand and squealed.

Wrapping his arms around you he held you close. Easily snatched it off your head, pulled it onto his.

You were beginning to protest, when he dipped close and pressed his lips against. He felt a soft push before he felt you melt against him.

*******

Eyeing your reflection in the scrapped, mirror. You frowned. Even though the rain had let up and you all could walk to the bar with just ash and soot hanging in the air, your hair fell flat.

You had never been one to use taming spray. But it just looked so boring and dull. You had wanted to look good for Tyler.

Kay came bouncing up behind and gave you a tight embrace. You could smell the soft scent of the drinks she had been enjoying. She endearingly, pressed her head against yours.

“What’s the matter? Is my brother being insufferable?” Her eyes met yours in the mirror.

“No.” Your shoulders slumped. You patted her arms. “He’s great. I just don’t think I’m enough.”

She pulled back and turned you to face her. “What is this?” Her eyes were sharp with concern. “He adores you. I’ve never seen him so happy.” She chuckled. “So full of himself. He’s like I got the best so I am the best.” She smiled.

“Truly.”

“Yeah. I’ve never seen him so confident.” She looked playful. “If I didn’t like you so much, I would have pushed him out of the Corbelan long time ago.”

You smiled then. “If you say so.”

“I do.” She offered an arm. “Now, let’s get back out there! We have to get a few more dances in and have a few more drinks.” She gigglee.

“Yes!”

******

“One more.” He gave you a wink, taking the glass. “You gotta finish yours too.” His gestured to yours.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” You hopped onto the stool beside him, grabbing your own glass.

You glanced over at the small very jammed dance floor Kay was shimmying with some random blonde guy you once or twice saw in your sector of the mine. You had lost track of where Bjorn and Navarro were.

You looked back at Tyler in time to see him bringing the glass to his lips. In the hazy, warmth the drinks you had distantly made you jealous of the glass. Looking him over, you noticed how sweat prickled his dark strands, his cheeks were flushed and how he tilted his head back as easily drank the entirety of the glass.

A loud sigh came from him, slamming the glass down he wiped his mouth the back of his hand. “Ready?”

You nodded, happily taking his hand.

His hands were firm, as he held you to him. You fingers grazed through the shorter strands of where he shorn some of his hair. It was a wonderful contrast to the longer, soft strands.

You giggled softly as he leaned in close, his lips grazing your throat. He nipped at you. It made you wiggle against him.

“Man, I want you.” His voice rasped in your ear.

Moving just so. Loving how his scent enveloped the two of you. It pushed away the others or even the place.

“I will always be yours.” You whispered in his ear.

He pulled you even closer to him.

******

He rubbed his temples under the water beating down at him. He really shouldn’t have drank that much last night.

But then again, it was the night before the company owned more of him. He was doing this for you and the others. He had to keep telling himself this.

******

He swished the water and the paste in his mouth after scrubbing at his teeth. Might as well not look and smell like he had danced and drank the night away.

Going into the kitchen, he opened one of the containers and snatched up two blocks of the corn bread. Sighing, he munched on one. By the time he came back to his room. He placed the one he grabbed for you by the environment gauge and time giver.

Carefully, he pulled on his long sleeved, thermal shirt leaving the buttons undone, always felt strangled otherwise and then he pulled on a pair of his heavier socks. He looked back at you. He had wanted to tell you, more then he even wanted to tell Kay or Bjorn but right now, he couldn’t he had to get the feel of things.

A soft sound came from you, still asleep as you moved and settled onto your back. You had snagged one of his shirts. Seeing you in it, made him smile.

Looking away, he reached out and pulled over his boots. Another soft sound came from you. Maybe he should leave a note, but you and the others knew how sometimes he would leave early if he had a good lead on a new salvage. But this was different. He chewed the inside of his cheek.

“Tyler?” Your voice was soft, still heavy with sleep and he felt your hand on his back.

He put on a brave face, a winning smile

“Hi sleepy.”

“You are already leaving?”

He nodded. “Got to.”

“Ok.” He felt your hand leave his back. He shuffled a bit to face you more.

You looked back at him.

“Look you trust me right?”

You nodded.

“Good.” He chuckled softly. “Look I got some good things ahead. I promise.”

You pressed your lips together. “Good. Just be safe.”

“Me? Always.” He pointed at his table. “Look, I even nabbed your favorite. The corner of the corn bread.”

You smiled then. “Thank you.”

“Nothing but the best, I can give.”

You moved fast and hugged him tight. You tucked in under his chin.

“Baby?“ He without hesitation hugged you back.

“Had a nightmare.”

He squeezed you. “Nothing will get me.”

He felt as you nodded.

“Now you are one that’s gotta to be safe in the mine today.” He rubbed your back. “Take a tablet before you head out, to clear your head. I’ll get us some good rations for tonight.”

*******

A few hours in, sweat was running down his face. He rubbed his forehead with his arm. They prodded him, pricked him to draw his blood. Now, he was hooked up to something and he was running on some kind of device; it beeped in time with the beat of his heart. He could not wait to get back to you and the others.

[chokepoet]

Kittens & Perverts (PG-13)

GIF by @kitherondale

Summary | A month after Logan’s passing, Roman stumbles onto an abandoned kitten and seeks the help of his assistant in caring for it.

Genre | Angst, The Fluffiest Fluff

TW | animal sickness, mentions of death (no actual death), panic attacks, drug mentions, slight allusions to an eating disorder

Word Count | 3.9k

A/N | This is for all my soft hearted bitches that just need that doe eyed lil’ shit to feel held. Even if just by a hand.

I had just walked out my door when I received a call from a very frantic Roman.

“I found a kitten. What the fuck do I do? It’s like, fuckin’ shivering and oh god- I think it? Coughed? Do cats cough?” His voice gets slightly quieter as if pulled away from the receiver. “Did you just cough?”

After having me find, in his words, the Mayo Clinic of emergency vets, he sent a car after me to meet him there. The entire drive was spent trying to calm him through the phone. He kept sending me horrific screenshots of every worse case scenario he found on Google. When I entered the waiting room I found him pacing with wide eyes and fidgety hands. He’d wound himself onto the verge of a panic attack.

“It’s got fucking pneumonia. Hooked up to IV’s and all this shit. They’re like incubating it- I think? With this big ass oxygen tank. Did you know they did that for cats? Like iron lung ‘em?” His hand roughly drags back through his hair. “I dunno if some sick fuck just left it there ‘cause it was ugly as shit with lil green goo comin’ out its eyes- aw, man, you shoulda seen it. The poor little fucker was like- like straight outta Cronenberg’s wet dreams, just- oh man, fuckin’ nasty.” He laughs to himself but it’s more of a stuttering rush of mirthless air. “And I’m supposed to feed it with these like freaky fucking heroin needle things apparently? I don’t-“ Placing both of my palms on either side of his cheeks gently, I tried stilling him.

“Hey- hey look at me. Breathe with me, yeah? In through your nose for a count of 4, hold for 7, out through your mouth for 8. Just like your blowing out birthday candles.” Face bunched up, he shoves me away.

“Fuck off! Birthday candles? The fuck are you on about? I’m fine. You know whose not fine? The fucking cat! It’s so tiny and-“

“Roman! Just fucking breathe with me real quick, okay? Just for a sec-“

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? I’m breathing fucking fine! Are you deranged?“

“No I’m not fucking deranged but I’m about to shove a vial of ketamine up your ass if you don’t just fucking trust me and breathe with me.”

Exacerbated, he finally follows me through the breathing exercise for three rounds. Albeit while rolling his eyes. The tension in his face had fallen slightly. Though, his shoulders remained tense as ever.

“Better?”

“Fuck you.” He shakes his head and refuses to meet my eyes. “Yes.” His reply reluctant and slightly cartoonish with annoyance. He’d been having bouts of anxiety and panic attacks ever since his father passed. He was always like this whenever I’d guide him through it. Embarrassed and frustrated. Depleted.

He sank into one of the seats lining the wall with a long sigh. Head falling back for a moment before pulling his knees up and anchoring his heel to the edge of the metal chair. Hugging himself. I take a seat next to him and criss-cross my legs beneath me.

“Is he gonna die?” His voice now small and hushed as he intently stared at a floor tile. I felt the ghost of Logan grip my heart and squeeze.

“Honestly?” His big brown eyes flicker up at me. Searching, scared. “I dunno, Roman.” He quickly stares back to the floor tile. “What I do know is you did the very best you could for the lil’ guy.” He scuffs.

“Yeah-well, my best has historically done fuck all so…” he mumbles and I gently nudge him with my elbow but he doesn’t look up.

“That’s not true and you know it.” He shoots me a look that tells me he does not in fact know it. “That kitten wouldn’t have had a chance without you. You gave it a fighting shot at life, Rome. That’s worth something.” Just then a vet walks through the waiting room doors. Roman quickly stumbles out of the chair to stand. I join him and cautiously press the palm of my hand to his back for support. He doesn’t brush me off.

“It’s a good thing you brought him in when you did. If it had been any later, I don’t think he would have made it.” I steal a glance at Roman, who swallows before clenching his jaw. “He seems to be responding well to the oxygen and antibiotics. You all should be able leave with him after he’s been stable for a little while longer. I’ll start filling the scripts for his medications here soon.”

The warmth of the vet’s reassuring smile was in stark contrast to the color draining from Roman’s face. He nods slowly and blinks as he processes the responsibility of this kitten’s health being placed onto him. As the doctor leaves, Roman climbs back into the cold metal chair like an anxious gargoyle. I pull the vet aside before he can walk back through the doors and ask him to go over care instructions with me. He offers me a packet instead. Flipping through it, I search out a supplies list.

I knew Roman was far too out of his depths to retain any of the information. Valid, considering he referred to a nursing syringe as a heroine needle. Upon walking back, I find he’s made the full transformation into human stress ball. Full moon be damned. He looked like one pull of an imaginary rubber band and he’d fall apart all over the floor.

“Hey, I’m going to run to the store and get everything we need. I’ll set it all up at your place so we’ll be ready when you come home.” I tried using we instead of you to let him know he wasn’t going to be tackling this alone. I don’t think he noticed.

“You’re leaving me here?” His eyes were wide and horrified. “I can’t- I don’t- what if-“

“You’ll be okay Roman. You’ve got thi-“

“Like hell I’ll be! I most certainly do not got this. What the fuck!” Sighing, I sit beside him as he continues to gape at me.

“The vet has everything under control. All you need to do is sit here, try to relax, and think about a name for the little guy, okay? You don’t wanna have to deal with shopping for all this shit once you have him.” The lines between his brows were deeply creased.

“Can’t you just send a-“

“Roman. Stop.” He does, though a silent plea remained etched in his features. “Just let me do this for you, alright?” His eyes shut as his head falls back against the wall. This was important and I didn’t really trust that anyone else would get everything needed. Having to deal with a forgotten item later tonight sounded like a hell I wished to avoid. “You’ll see me again at the apartment. My phone is at full volume. You know you can call me the second I leave this building and I’ll answer.” He grumbles, refusing to look at me. “And I promise to have that boba tea you refuse to admit you like waiting for you.” One eye opens and the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Sugar-free?” He didn’t need to know that the boba had been soaking in brown sugar before reaching his cup. Too elated that he felt some sense of joy in something food related and knowing full well he’d never touch it again if he knew. He still rarely allowed himself a cup of it as is, let alone finish it all. I didn’t have the heart to break it to him, so I never did.

“With extra boba.” His lips defy him as a small smile escapes. Groaning loudly and dramatically, he lifts his head.

“Fine.” He jerks his wallet out of his pocket and hands me his black card. “If that thing fucking croaks on me while you’re gone, I’m blaming you.”

As I walk out the doors I catch a quick glance back to find him, eyes closed, doing those breathing exercise.

Sure enough, the second I’m in the car my phone rings.

“The fuck all do you even have to get? Do pet stores sell heroine needles? Ask Kendall, I bet he’d fuckin’ know.” The entire shopping excursion was spent with the phone cradled between my ear and shoulder as I picked up supplies. As soon as one call would end, it wouldn’t be a few minutes later that it’d ring again. “Do I have a humidifier? I’ve got that fuckin’ facial steamer. Is that like the same thing? I feel like- no, you know what? Just pick one up while you’re out. Someone on Reddit said it helps with pneumonia.”

Upon arriving to his apartment, I open the fridge to sit the promised boba tea inside. Lonely amongst the near barren shelves of wilting lettuce and protein shakes. Trying not to think about it too much, I return to the task at hand. I had successfully gathered all needed supplies, plus a plush heated blanket that I hoped might warm both their spirits. He rarely left his room most days so I figured it’s the best place to set up everything. As I spread the blanket across his bed, my phone rang.

“In route with Jerry.”

“The fuck you doin’ with Gerri?”

“Check your texts.” Clicking the notification, I’m met with a photo of Roman and the kitten. It’s small form curled up under the palm of his hand, nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” His chuckle reverbs through the speaker.

“He is kinda cute, right?” You’re both kinda cute.

“The cutest. Please tell me you named him after the cartoon and not that Gerri?”

“Of course I named it after the fucking cartoon. Why would you even- yeah. I named a fuckin’ kitten after Waystar’s legal counsel.” His voice dripping with sarcasm even though he totally did do just that.

“You fucking would.” I can’t help but laugh. “And you say I’m deranged?”

“Yeah, yeah. Call my therapist.”

“Why? You’re already on the phone with ‘em.”

“Well you’re doing a shit job.”

“Clearly.” I began setting up Jerry’s bed. A nest of soft blankets over a heating pad in a small box. “Well shit’s hard with a sick fuck like Roman Roy as my client.”

“I can tell ya somethin’ else that’s hard.”

“I’m calling HR.”

“Ooo, three way?”

“Hanging up now.” His laughter reflects off his floor to ceiling windows as I cut the line.

While finishing filling the humidifier, now resting on his side table, I heard the front door open. Roman’s light footsteps click across the pristine hardwood floors.

“Aye! Lil’ man’s hungry, did you get the goods?” I’m soon enough greeted by a softly mewing Jerry in the same spot as he was photographed in nearly an hour prior.

“Yeah, your boba’s in the fridge.” Roman rolls his eyes before scrunching his nose up and sticking his tongue out at me.

“Hardy-har har. You’re hilarious.” Sticking my own tongue out at him, I give him a wink. “Seriously, did you get- the fuck that come from?” He waves a limp wrist towards the bed.

“It’s a heated blanket, I got it while I was out. Just thought you two could use it. And yes, the formulas in the kitchen.” Roman eyes the thick white blanket before waltzing over to run a hand over it. His lips threaten a smile but he fights it off.

“It’s… nice.” He clears his throat.

“You know, I haven’t gotten to officially meet Jerry yet.” Tilting my head, I gaze upon the little creature with a small smile. A tabby that reminded me of my first cat. I carefully reach out my pointer finger to stroke his head. My smile grows even wider. I was grateful Roman had found him and that he was okay. The fist of worry I kept hidden in the pit of my stomach began to unfurl. My cheeks warm as Roman’s gaze studied my face while I pet the kitten held against him.

“You can hold him.” Our eyes meet and there was something in his that made my chest flutter. He looks down quickly. “I mean-if you wanna or whatever.”

“Yeah? You sure? Y’all seem pretty cozy.” Roman rolls his eyes before carefully handing Jerry over to me. I cradle him over my heart while rubbing his side with my thumb. I can’t help but lean down to lay a soft kiss atop his head. “You are just the sweetest lil thing in the whole world, you know that?” I murmur into his fur before pulling back with a smile.

“Oh he fuckin’ knows it. He had all the nurses in a tizzy. Had to fight ‘em off with my humongous dick.”

“Oh Jesus, Roman. Do you ever just shut the fuck up?”

“Nope.” Roman smiles as he reaches to pet Jerry. His finger brushes my hand and our eyes fall to one another. The corner of his mouth twitches along with his finger. The air begins to fill with static as we stood falling into each other’s gaze. There was maybe half a foot of space between us. Out of nervous habit, I bite my bottom lip and Roman’s eyes immediately flicker to my mouth. Jerry mews against my chest.

“Should we go get the formula ready?” My voice comes out quieter than I intended, just above a whisper. He blinks a few times before meeting my eyes again.

“Huh? Y-yeah.” Clearing his throat, he quickly turns on his heels and heads out the bedroom door. I follow with a blush on my cheeks and a smile on my lips.

Atop Roman’s bed, he lay on his side with me mirrored beside him. Jerry was stretched out between us with a full belly pressed to the heated blanket, sleeping peacefully. Roman had one hand propping his head up and the other holding his boba tea. My arms were crossed under one another as I used them as a pillow. Both of us watching the rise and fall of Jerry’s breathing.

Feeding him earlier was an ordeal to say the least. Roman quickly became overwhelmed. Only confident in his abilities as a fuck up. He was twitchy, anxious, and swear-y as he made a mess of the kitchen. Glancing up to his face, I notice the circles under his eyes seemed darker. He looked utterly exhausted as he chewed on the straw of his drink with a furrowed brow.

“Hey, Rome?”

“Mm?” He hums addressing me but doesn’t look up from Jerry.

“Do you wanna try and get some sleep? I can stay up with Jer-Bear and make sure he’s okay.” Eyes finally meeting mine, his brows stay pulled together.

“Fuck no. I’m not tired.” He lied through his teeth; quickly and firmly. I had just seen him yawn not five minutes prior. My brows raise.

“Uh-huh…” I look him over. He was still dressed for the day, though without shoes. His tie, dusted in formula powder, hung loose around his neck. His sleeves were rolled to his elbow. Once gelled hair now flung in nearly every direction.

“Hey! Stop fuckin’-“ He waves the plastic cup around. “Checkin’ me out in front of the child, ya heathen.”

“The child?” I laugh quietly while propping my head up in one hand and stealing his drink from him with the other. He gasps dramatically with a hand to his chest. “Alright, cat daddy.” His brows raise as I take a sip.

“Cat daddy?” He smirks suggestively. “What are you then? Cat mommy?” Chewing on some boba pearls, I shrug with a smile.

“Seems fitting.” He goes to steal his cup back, causing his hand to fall over my own. He doesn’t remove it. Just stares at them clasped together. His touch feels electric. The familiar static returning to the air. Roman’s thumb slowly begins to brush my knuckles. Back and forth, almost shyly. I let out a shaky breath and his eyes suddenly meet mine, startled. He pulls the drink from me and I let my hand fall. The phantom of his thumb sending small shockwaves through to my bones.

Refusing to meet my eyes, he focuses them on Jerry instead. His fingers quickly and rhythmically tapping at the side of his cup. The hand once holding his head was now scratching at his jaw. A bundle of nerves before me. I yearned to soothe them and missed the warmth of his touch. The lonely ache blossoming throughout the skin of my palm made my head feel fuzzy. I then feel my last remaining brain cell sprout something akin to courage. Reaching out, I grasp the top of his drink and take it away to place on the side table behind me.

“What the fuck? I wasn’t finished…” He trails off as I look back to him. All furrow browed and handsome. Cautiously, I reach for his hand and lace my fingers with his. His eyes immediately drop to them interlocking with a sharp inhale. He falls tense. My stomach flips as I fight off the flaming arrows of nerves shooting down my arm. Just as tentatively as he had before, I start to gently rub my thumb against the side of his hand. He doesn’t respond; his hand feeling limp and dead beneath mine. Dread pools down the back of my throat.

“S-sorry.” Pulling back, I try to unthread myself from his hand. Suddenly his fingers come to life and clasp around mine. Gripping tightly as if his body was silently pleading with mine to not let go. Don’t leave. His eyes finally meet mine and his brows twitch. A wash of different emotions flash across his features. Behind those stormy brown eyes, I could see the waves of doubt and fear threaten to drown out the rest.

What we were doing could be considered small. Insignificant even, sure. We were simply holding hands. Yet it felt like something big for some reason. Maybe because neither one of us could recall the last time someone held us. Even if it was just our hands.

It felt intimate.

He didn’t want it to stop but he didn’t know what to do with the feelings it was bringing up either. I pull our hands towards my face and lean forward to meet them. Softly biting down on his middle knuckle then smiling up at him. His mouth twitches before slowly smiling back.

“You’re so fucking dumb.” He laughs softly, slightly bewildered.

“Watch it or I’ll bite it off.” His smile only grows.

“Do it, I fuckin’ dare ya.” I bite down onto his knuckle once again, harder this time. He drops my hand immediately, only to thread his own through my hair and pull me into a bruising kiss. Both of us smile against the other’s mouth. He nips at my bottom lip when I pull away with a laugh. I lightly shove his head playfully before throwing his words from earlier back at him.

“In front of the child?” The near constant and crushing weight of his stress seemed momentarily absent as we giggled in bed like schoolchildren. “Ya heathen.” Jerry had continued sleeping soundly between us. Careful not to wake him, Roman begins brushing a finger down Jerry’s back, ever so gently. “You can be really sweet when you wanna be, you know that?” His eyes meet mine in an attempt to look stern. Though, the smallest hint of a smile still lingered.

“You tell anyone about this and I’m chuckin’ ya into the Hudson with cement shoes.” With a wide grin, I return to my earlier positioning. Arms curled beneath me to lie atop. The day was finally catching up and my head felt heavy. “You realize there’s pillows directly above you, right?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen a pillow a day in my life.” My eyes were struggling to stay open as I watch the rhythmic rise and fall of Jerry’s back with Roman’s finger stroking gently.

“Smartass.” The next thing I know, Roman’s hand has slid beneath my cheek to lift my head. A pillow is nestled into the space between soon after. I hum approvingly and he mumbles. “Thanks… for today.”

“Happy to help.” I rub my face into the pillow as if it could wipe off the sleep threatening to overtake me. In a weak attempt to stay awake, my mouth begins to ramble. “I got pneumonia a lot when I was a kid. I’d have to take these breathing treatments with an oxygen mask.” Letting out a soft chuckle, the memories flood back to me. Absentmindedly, my finger begins drawing circles against the blanket as I sleepily look to Jerry’s face. “But since I was a child, they tried to make it less scary so the mask was in the shape of a fish head. Whenever Jerry was in the hospital, I just pictured this tiny kitten wearing my little fish mask.” My eyes flicker up to Roman. He was wearing a small smile. “I dunno… it just made me feel better for some reason. I guess like he’d be okay because I was okay.” As the words tumbled out in a mumble, Roman’s eyes seemed softer. My cheeks started to warm with a blush so I shyly tuck my chin in and look back to Jerry.

“That’s really cute actually.” My eyes rise back to his. The tips of his own cheeks seem to turn almost pink under my gaze. “Corny as fuck, but… cute.” Clearing his throat, he looks back at the sleeping kitten before him. “I’m calling you fish face from now on.” The corner of my mouth tugs into a smile as my eyes fall heavy with sleep.

“You did good today, Rome.” If I had the energy to look back to him, I would have caught the pinks of his cheeks turning crimson. Saw his mouth twitch in a losing battle between a smile and his lips. The smile won.

The blinding light of morning had me waking with eyes squeezed tight. A steady electric hum met my ears and I tried to mentally deduce where it could be coming from before giving up. Fighting off the violently bright assault to my vision, my eyes finally part and focus. A cloud of steam billows through a sun ray to greet me. My gaze follows the plume towards it’s source. A soft electric hum. The humidifier.

The next sight to greet me fills my heart with something so sweet and so warm, it overflowed. The feeling overwhelmed my every being and threatened to burst through my chest and coat the very walls. Taking its disembodied hands to pull the corners of my lips upwards as a soft snore escapes the sleeping form beside me.

Roman looked even messier than he had the previous night. Lying on his back with one wrinkled sleeve pulled down. It appeared to have milk dampening the expensive fabric. The formula powder, once just on his tie, was now kissing across the scruff of his jaw. Somehow, it looked to be in his hair as well. His shirt lie halfway open, unbuttoned. A tiny ball of fur lay against the bare skin at the heart of his chest. There, Jerry slept underneath Roman’s cradling palm. The two of them warming the other peacefully.

My cheeks were aching but I couldn’t stop smiling. The humidifier’s buzz seemed to morph into a familiar high strung murmur inside my head.

You fucking love me, don’t you?Dumbass.

I haven’t written fan fiction in ages, let alone for Succession. I’m high-key fucking terrified of the response lol But this was so much fun to write and turned out extremely wholesome so I had to share. Please excuse any spelling/grammar/formatting fuck ups. I did all this in my notes app and haven’t shared any writing on here since like… 2018? I think?? Anyways, to whomever might be reading this, I really hope you enjoyed it. ♡˚ ✧ ༘ ｡ ˚ ⋆

[diorkyeom]

THE @diorkyeom / @fairyhaos AO3 FIC REC LIST: PART 2

masterlist. part one. part two. part three.

part two of all the ao3 fics that i've read for seventeen which i've loved, kudosed, and proceeded to download so i'll always have with me. part one was kinda long so i thought it would be better if i just made a 2nd post instead of adding on to it ^^

(list is in order of authors!)

Of Milkshakes, Onesies and Miniature Roses - coupdetart

soonhoon, uni au, oneshot

soonyoung likes small and cute things. jihoon is small and cute. and that's it, that's the entirety of this adorable fic. pls this fic had me grinning so hard omg everything is literally soooo adorable and jihoon is so tsundere but you can already tell that he's so fond of soonyoung and his antics and they're just very very sweet

Know Ya Boo - jeosheo

meanie, non-idols, fluff, getting together, oneshot

jeosheo and lunahui are two of theeeee best meanie writers that ive like. ever seen. this fic made me laugh and it made me internally cry and it's soooo so lovely and funny and domestic and honest to god. the entire attraction of this ship is the way they realise their feelings and this fic does it soo well

Through The Wall - kaiteki

soonhoon, apartment neighbors, chaptered (but short)

hnnnngggh never ever ever EVER gonna get tired of people characterising soonhoon's relationship not as an antagonistic, forever-enemies one but as one of mutual respect and muted adoration. pls a neighbours to lovers thats actually simply Adorable is hard to come by but this is sooo good

right-handed normativity - kyeomizt

meanie, canon au, oneshot

dudeeeee pls it's just sooo soft and domestic and funny and so so so them. the way they act like a couple almost instinctively, like it's coded into their dna to just love each other like that???? peak meanie things actually.

hell yeah, hyung! - orphan_account

jeongcheol, canon au, coming out, oneshot

idk jeongcheol has never been My Thing but the way that jeonghan is characterised? with his clear head and clear thoughts and you can clearly see his entire thought process as he goes through things... wow. it's really good. i also love how much time he takes to think things through and really find out what he's feeling. vv nice fic tbh, that's all :]

Rollercoaster - orphan_account

soonhoon, non-idols au, fake dating, oneshot

read the summary, screamed internally. then began reading the fic and screamed internally even more. pls the characterisation???? the pining???? the suppressed feelings and fAKE DATING?????? absolute gold i swear pls pls read this it's so cute

Found In Translation - naegahosh

verkwan, fluff, light angst, twoshot

holy shiiiiittttttt the seungkwan characterisation is ON POINT and i LOVE when people manage to get his melodrama and also his softness down and this fic has it SO GOOD. the way hansol is just so so so gentle and caring with seungkwan and it's so OBVIOUS that he's already so in love with him from the start :(((

can't sleep (without your smile) - pocketpastel

seoksoo + verkwan, snow white au, sleeping beauty au, chaptered

i love cute little fairytale-twist aus!!!! ive (kinda) written one of my own too hehe and it's always just soooo fun to do. and read as well! i love the seoksoo dynamic and also verkwan with their little one-sided rivals to lovers??? gorgeous. very very sweet.

my love only amounts to this - shiningshua

seoksoo, canon au, soulmates, oneshot

i think i said this before but i rarely read seoksoo bc honestly. their dynamic and characterisation is something that is rlly hard to get right but this is sooo soft. joshua loving it when seokmin calls him "shua hyung"? their softness? the way they were in love with each other the entire time? the epitome of the seoksoo dynamic actually.

Hit Different - thanku4urlove

verkwan, est. relationship, canon au, oneshot

bro. bro buff vernon is soooo brainrot worthy actually and honestly i just feel so blessed that there's an ENTIRE FIC centered around it. with verkwan too like????? best thing in the entire world. started giggling internally at the ending like OH MYGODHFUDHS it's soooo heart-flutteringly good.

wonwoo & his very non-imaginary boyfriend - wonderscape

meanie, established relationship, oneshot

honestly. peak meanie behaviour is wonwoo having a hot-as-fuck boyfriend and no one believing that they're actually dating until they see mingyu in person. the 96 liner dynamic is so silly and so funny to me because they're all just so annoying and goofy in their own way and i love the way it's portrayed in this fic too

[amazingmaeve]

homelander fic recommendations

fics that I just love so so much 💕. go give these fics a like, a reblog, and a comment because these were AMAZING because the authors deserve!

also give these writes the love they deserve because they sure as hell deserve it!

i also have some recommendations on AO3 so here is my link to my account where you can find them. i was thinking about putting them here but it would’ve been to much work.

also what i interpret things as fluff/angst might be different to other people and it’s just an opinion based.

on tumblr.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/smut

moon song by @richeeduvie love love and love this one. its one of my fav homelander fics!

ೃ⁀➷ angst/smut/fluff(?)

best things by @richeeduvie this author is one of the best writers for him literally all the stuff they write is AMAZING.

ೃ⁀➷ angst/dark fic(?)/kinda fluffy

baby it’s halloween & savior complex by @richeeduvie this was actually one my first reads of this persons work and ive loved it ever since.

ೃ⁀➷ angst/dark fic(?)

coalesce by @richeeduvie seriously pls go and follow this person because they’re one of the best writers writing for homelander, because i just love them.

ೃ⁀➷ angst/dark fic

milky white by @after-witch love this and the follow ups to these. beautifully written. so please show some love to it.

ೃ⁀➷ angst/dark fic/some fluff

a closed window, slightly ajar by @after-witch a follow up to the fic above and it’s just as amazing. like I just love it soooo much! so as before show it some love please.

ೃ⁀➷ angst/dark fic/some fluff

treat you better by @after-witch love, love and love this fic the writer did an amazing job and it’s one of the first ones i’ve read

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/smut

midnight baker by @bastardfucker I just love this fic it’s so soft and fluffy and i just love reading it

ೃ⁀➷ smut/dark fic(?)

gods and good boys by @the-odd-devil I just love it. so so much amazing and brilliant writing and I think we can all agree that homelander is a partial sub

ೃ⁀➷ smut/angst/fluff/kinda dark

four letter word ii by @seeds-and-sins soulmate au fics are just something i really love to read and this is just an example because i love these.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff

media couple by @darling-i-read-it love reading fake couple/dating to having feelings especially for a show like the boys.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/kinda dark

movie premiere by @darling-i-read-it love this and the author, she is amazing at writing him and im so lucky to find her work because it’s honestly some of my favs

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/angst

apologies by @darling-i-read-it I really love fics where they have to hide their relationship and something happens to it. it’s *chef’s kiss*.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/angst/smut/kinda dark

mine by @hes-the-muse so amazing, it’s so good and I don’t even have the words to express how I feel

ೃ⁀➷ angst/smut/really dark

home sweet home by @cherienymphe this one is really dark but I think it stays true to who homelander is as a character and that’s why i like it so much.

ೃ⁀➷ angst/fluff/smut

side eyes by @hes-the-muse in love with this one. the vibes, writing and everything all around it.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/smut

patience baby by @theboysfanfic love it, just filthy dirty smut and it’s just so good.

ೃ⁀➷ angst/dark fic

therapy sessions with the devil by @pretoriafics I always look for a fic where homelander basically gets obsessed with this therapist and this is exactly it!

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/kinda angsty

birthday gift by @honnelander it’s just a fluffy fanfic that makes me tingle because it’s so fluffy and i am in love with it.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/kinda angsty/kinda dark

gentle by @thehoundwrites just in love with homelanders kinda a brat but that’s canon and that’s why I love it it.

ೃ⁀➷ smut

nsfw alphabet by @thehoundwrites very self explanatory and I just love nsfw alphabets and this one is no different

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/angst/smut/kinda dark

my destruction is an hour late by @venus-haze obsessed with this one and it’s also very canon to how he would react as well.

[sukiipjs]

✮ BLONDIE : PT 1

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

↳ nick sturniolo x masc reader

↳ words - 2239

↳ summary - you’ve been having a hard time realizing and accepting the fact that you’re gay, and in love with your best friend. you try to ignore the feelings but that only makes everything worse until you can’t hide it anymore.

↳ contains - swearing, angst, use of y/n, internalized homophobia, depression, crying, idk??? [READ PT 2 - PT 3]

↳ song - blondie by current joys

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nick has been my best friend for years, he’s always been there for me, and me there for him. we met in the first grade when he saw me alone at recess on the swings and he ran up to me, asking if i wanted to play with him and his brothers. one of the many things i love about him, hes always there, always there to help, or just be with. from that day on he’s always been my number one but honestly, i’ve been kind of avoiding him lately.

of course i don’t want to, i really really don’t want to, trust me, but i don’t want to make anything bad between us either. even though pushing him away is probably fucking things up anyway.

the thing is, for months, maybe even years now i think that i might be coming to a realization: i think i’m gay, or not gay but bi? i hate labels, i dont want to be put into a box, its honestly just hard to fit into one too. i mean i’ve had girlfriends before and i’ve liked that, but nick…

okay i might be coming to another realization: i think i’m in love with nick. and to make everything worse, i can’t even talk to anyone about this because the only person i would tell is nick, but if i told him, well i just cant, it could destroy our friendship. he’d hate me, i cant lose him.

but maybe i’m not in love with him, i mean i love nick, i always have but maybe its not love love? maybe its just me appreciating our friendship more. okay who am i kidding it’s definitely becoming more, I LOVE HIM. he’s just perfect, in general, to me, to everyone. i want to spend every moment of my life with him, i want to hug him and never let him go, i want to be with him, i just want to see him again.

i can’t even imagine what he’d say if he knew i liked him. he’d probably be disgusted, i’d ruin our friendship forever. i cant do that, i can’t risk anything like that, i need him even if that means the best thing i can do is just stay away, make up lies of why i cant hang out, slowly stop texting him, i mean maybe it's not the best thing but its either i do this and try and force these feelings down or i tell him and ruin everything. this is better, or at least that’s what i keep telling myself.

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nick 🫶

| wanna hang out today? haven’t seen you in forever, i’m boredddd

| i know i’m sorry, but i cant today, really really sorry. still not feeling good

| that’s okay, hope you feel better though 💕 if you need anything tell me okay?

| i’d rather hang out with you and get sick then spend one more second with my idiot brothers over here 💀

i stare at the message on my screen, i’m not sick, i’m just trying to be a good friend… by avoiding my best friend… sure, whatever.

i slam down my phone on my mattress, rolling over and burying my face in my pillow. muffled screams from my mouth as tears, start to pour from my eyes. every time i message him, saying i cant hang out i immediately regret it. i want to see him, i always do but again, i cant, i fucking cant. it would only make my feelings stronger and i just need to get rid of them as soon as i can so things can just go back to how they were.

fuck, here comes the spiral that ive been replaying in my head forever. do i even really like him? am i really bi, gay, straight, whatever the fuck? i don’t even know, it’s all too confusing and stressful right now. why can’t i just be me? and have my best friend with me again? actually hang out with him, see him?

all i can really do right now is continue screaming and crying into my pillow about how much of a shitty friend i’m being, great. I constantly stalk his instagram, trying to see if i do really like him and try to see what he’s up to without me, i miss him so much.

…i wish he was a girl then i would be straight and all this shit wouldn’t hurt so much. i’m not trying to say that being gay is bad, all i’m saying is that it would be easier to figure all this out if i was straight and he was a girl. i know that’s so messed up to say but i don’t know how else to put it.

if he was a girl, i’d know that i’m in love with him, i wouldn’t be so afraid to accept myself because there wouldn’t be anything to accept. i’d just be me and he’d she’d be him her, i’d get to be his her boyfriend and we’d be a happy couple. i’d be happy and i wouldn’t have to push the person i love most in this stupid world away…

i smash my face into my silky white pillowcase over and over, shaking my head as i force the sides of the pillow into my face more. i want to suffocate.

i scream into my pillow more and more. ‘i love you nick, i love you nick, i love you. i DONT love you nick, i DONT love you nick, i DONT love you… but i do, i really really do, but i cant… i really really fucking cant.’

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i stay rotting in my bed, spiraling about random shit, taking random quizzes of ‘am i gay?’ or ‘am i in love with my bestfriend?’ or ‘is it a crush?’ like i know.

soft blankets cover me, my silky pillows supporting my back as i rewatch rupaul's drag race on my computer until i finish it again, oreos and empty dr pepper cans surround me. and of course, nick always in my mind, everything reminding me of him, those stupid quizzes, his favorite show, his favorite drink. i wish he could be here, like how we used to hang out before i started ruining everything but i could be ruining it more, at least im keeping my mouth shut.

every once and a while, a message from nick pops up. him sending me a tiktok or telling me about how spacecamp is going or just something random, asking how im doing, if im still sick. most times i try to ignore him, turning off the notifications but i answer sometimes, only one or two words, maybe just an emoji, just trying to say something. i don’t want him to think i hate him or anything, i still of course love him.

the only time i ever get up from my bed is to go the the bathroom or get more food, ive been wearing the same two sweatpants alternating them and random shirts that i throw on the floor after i wear them for enough. my hair shaggy and a scratchy stubble on my face. i look and feel gross. i didnt think that forcing my best friend away and trying to figure out my sexuality could make me this depressed, who knew.

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weeks pass of me ignoring (or at least trying to ignore) nick and weeks of screaming into my sheets and sleeping all day become more and more. i finally decide to leave my apartment and stock up on some random things that will help me rot in my room even more: coffee, chips, oreos, whatever else i might want.

as i scan the aisle for dr pepper, standing in my gray hoodie with the hood covering me and one of the two sweatpants i’ve been wearing on, i hear a voice at the end of the row calling to me, “y/n?” my head turns to see who knows me that’s here, about to see how disgusting i look and just my luck, it’s nick.

“nick” a bright smile floods my face, i haven’t seen him for what seems like forever, i look at his blonde hair with grown out brunette roots, plus that signature nose ring and star earrings, of course he looks great.

he runs up to me, giving me a warm hug as he smiles too, “oh my god i haven’t seen you in decadessss” he exaggerates, laughing at me, “you feeling better now?” i tilt my head a little, confused but then i remember my lie. “oh yeah, i am. even though i dont look it” i try to scoff a laugh, looking down at myself, excusing how ‘i dont care’ i look right now.

“you look fine.” he laughs back again, “you know… me, chris and matt were gonna go out for dinner soon, wanna come?” i can tell he really wants me to be there and i really want to but i try to push it away, still.

“uhhh, i think had something later, sorry” my small smile slowly fading as his does too, i don’t think i’ve seen his smile leave that fast. “really? we haven’t talked in weeks, i miss you” he jokes a little, but really we do miss each other.

“i know, i’m sorry, but i promise we’ll hang out soon yeah?” i try to fake a small smile, trying to make this a little better but nick still looks sad, “yeah okay, see you later then?” he looks like he hates me, he looks just annoyed, hurt. i feel terrible.

“yeah, later” i’m about to walk closer to give him another hug but he leaves, to i assume go find his brothers, before i can. i’m terrible.

i finish up grabbing my things before leaving and driving off, replaying our interaction in my head. i could’ve just went? it was one dinner, that’s all. not a big deal. but it’s too late, it would just be weird if my schedule suddenly cleared up now.

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i make my way back to my apartment, putting my bags down on the counter before going straight to my room again, flopping down on top of the pile of blankets and stuffed animals that cover my bed.

i dig in my pocket for my phone, taking it out as i grab a blanket to pull it over my face, closing off the sun that shines through my window.

i go straight to me and nicks messages, thinking of texting him. ‘i’m sorry’ too short, plain. ‘sorry, i was wrong i can go’ feels like i’m pitying him, plus just dumb. ‘i love you’ yeah definitely not. ‘come over? sorry’ again, stupid and he can NOT see the mess i have over here.

i decide on nothing and put my phone to the side of me, burying my head into my pillows again, tears flooding my eyes again again again. it’s too much. this is all stupid and i need to get over it all. this is terrible.

i go back to my cycle of curling up in warm blankets, eating my now new oreos and dr pepper and rewatching shows i’ve seen a million times before. and obviously stalking nicks instagram, he posted a story of him and his brothers at dinner. he’s still wearing those earrings and that same beige jacket he was wearing before, and he still looks great.

i swipe up, about to message him. ‘you look great, sorry i couldn’t come’ i quickly delete it and just like the story. i need to stop trying to message him when i’m trying to ignore him.

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after falling asleep shortly after i finished looking at nicks story i wake up to like five texts from who? nick, of course.

nick 🫶

| are you ignoring me?

| like did i do something or what?

| are you okay?

| can we just talk or hang out please?

| y/n?

| okay sorry actually, never mind

my heart drops, i feel so TERRIBLE. nick did nothing and i never want him to think that he did something wrong. he’s perfect.

i pick up my phone to respond but honesty i don’t know if i should… i want him to know that he did nothing but he’s right about me ignoring him… fuck this. i just ignore him, still.

i shut off my phone fast and roll to my other side, curling up my legs and staring at the small textured bumps on the off-white wall that i face. i take in every detail, trying to distract myself with something else. i spot all the tiny discolorations or stains on the wall, the way it all starts to blur when tears, again, rain out my eyes.

they drip on the curves of my cheeks and lips, my hands are tucked under my legs as he tears drop onto my sheets, i don’t bother wiping them off. they make a small circle ish shape when it hits on my bed with a darker gray on my gray sheets.

my spiraling hits again when the ridges on my wall go dark as my eyes close. why can’t my best friend just be my best friend? why can’t i just be a normal person? why can’t i just forget it all? why can’t this all just go away? why? why? why? why?

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taglist : @slutforchriss @mattsleftnipple03 @mattsdinosweater @ccolleenn @mixvchelle @leah-loves-lilies @sturn-wrld @redz0nez9 @cheriematt @freshloveforthefit @nickuniversity @whore4matt @txssvx @will-yummy

[stars-n-spice]

Hi, I've been meaning to ask you for a long time. And how did Crosshair meet Tay after Tantiss? Well, provided they had their last meeting in a bar before that episode with Mayday. It will be interesting to read about this post or a small comic (I really like your drawing style).

Howdy! Thank you so much for this honestly, hearing that you like my drawing style made my week! 🩵🩵

As for your question, I honestly haven't thought much about how Tay and Crosshair would reunite on Pabu after their initial meetings prior to everything that happens after Mayday. I want to keep my Silly Squad AU as close to canon as possible, with stuff with them happening in between the episodes sorta "off-screen," so while Crosshair is dealing with being on Barton IV with Mayday and then being on Tantiss with Hemlock, in my mind, Tay is having to deal with some of the consequences of his actions and his past with Black Sun coming to bite him in the ass.

Before that they were meeting on and off and had a bit of a situationship going on, but as soon as they start to figure things out, that's kinda when Crosshair gets shipped off to Barton IV and things just go downhill from there.

Tay finds out about this transfer and does everything he can to try and find Crosshair. Of course, he hits a dead end eventually because nobody knows where the fuck Tantiss is, but he doesn't give up and eventually gets a tip-off that leads him to Pabu sometime after the events of S3.

I could see maybe Tay arriving at Pabu and is kinda at the end of his rope because he's been looking for months now with little to no success in getting any closer to Crosshair. He's not ready to give up yet, but he's slowly losing hope. Then he finally sees him. Tay makes his way up to the marketplace, and through the crowd, he's finally met with the sight he'd been longing to see all these months. It's Crosshair. Crosshair, laughing and smiling at something Omega said, walking through the marketplace with Batcher, looking happy and alive. It's better than Tay could've ever imagined.

After months of searching, they're finally reunited and can pick up where they left off. Of course, Tay is taken aback and horrified to hear everything that had happened to Crosshair, and in turn, Crosshair is completely touched and taken aback by the fact that Tay was actively looking for him and trying to get him back. Something his brothers didn't even try to do. And it's that latter fact that gives Crosshair reason to give Tay a second chance and let him back into his life so they can shoot their shot at being a normal couple.

Of course, there's angst in the reunion though as when they last saw each other, they were both working for the Empire so Crosshair is sent into a panic thinking Tay's still with the Empire and has come to take him back or something, but that's far from the case.

Or something like that, I'm not too sure yet. Hopefully that answered your question though! And thank you again for your ask and lovely words 🩵💫