#me: shut up you pretty boy and take my goddamn money

[orionhere]

Men in suits got me to feel things 🙏🙏💕💕

[withacapitalp]

Root Beer

Happy birthday @stevesbipanic !!! I had an idea for this so long ago, but then your birthday gave me the perfect excuse to write it. I'm so honored we are friends, I am still so shocked about it (Flashback to my OG post about Tumblr royalty liking one of my posts) and I cannot wait to get to spend even more time with you <333

“Remind me again why you always pay for Erica’s ice cream?” Eddie wondered as Steve dug into his wallet and forked over the dollar eighty five required for Erica’s scoop of cotton candy with rainbow sprinkles. 

“It’s reparations for child endangerment,” Erica replied immediately, sticking her tongue out briefly as Steve rolled his eyes. 

Eddie automatically stuck his tongue out right back at her, making her laugh as she skipped off to the other side of the counter and waited for her treat. The kids had asked for a ride to the ice cream shop, but in a rare display of discipline, Steve had refused to pay for any of them except Erica, and, shockingly, no one had complained. They had all pooled their money, ordered three sundaes to split, and were now sitting in the corner digging into their treats. 

“I’ll tell you about it some other time,” Steve promised, keeping his wallet open as he turned towards his boyfriend, “Are you gonna get anything?” 

“Still deciding,” Eddie said, bouncing on his heels. 

The shop was no Scoops Ahoy, but it did have a wide array of different options, all with wonderful punny names. He was currently between getting a ‘Bloody Sundae’, which was a vanilla scoop with cherry syrup and chocolate sprinkles, or a ‘Mint to be’, which was mint chocolate chip with whipped cream and bright green sprinkles. 

Maybe he could get both if he gave Steve the right amount of puppy eyes. That usually worked for other things. Dates, getting to pick the movie they watched at night…..other….things. 

Eddie was still thinking through his strategy as Steve stepped up to order. 

“Can I get a large root beer float with soft serve twist and a cone on the side?” Steve asked, using his customer service voice with a charming smile, making the girl behind the counter twitter and twirl her hair as she rang him up and walked off to make his float. 

Eddie blinked a few times trying to register what Steve had just said, before groaning loudly and pulling a disgusted face. 

“What?” Steve wondered, bewildered by Eddie’s vehement reaction. 

“Root beer,” Eddie said with a grimace, waggling his tongue. 

“What’s wrong with root beer?” 

“It’s so…sweet,” Eddie finally got out, trying and failing to find the exact words to explain his complete disdain for root beer. He had given root beer a real try, multiple attempts and everything, but every time he had spat it out, unable to enjoy the taste. 

“Eddie, I have seen you eat a frosting sandwich,” Steve said in a complete deadpan, giving Eddie a raised brow look, “Just frosting and white bread,”

“Don’t judge my trailer park cuisine, rich boy!” Eddie cried in an overdramatic tone, clutching his chest and shaking his head with his eyes shut tight, “I’m not the one having nasty icky sarsaparilla nonsense, making future kisses completely impossible until you have purged yourself of the disgusting concoction.”

Steve burst into bright loud laughter, lighting up the entire store like he was the goddamn sun. Eddie paused in his diatribe, watching Steve with lovesick eyes as he giggled uncontrollably. 

“Sarsaparilla concoction,” Steve huffed out, continuing to chuckle, “God, I love you, you big dork.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

Both of them paused, staring at each other with wide eyes as they took in what Steve had just let slip out. 

It wasn’t like they didn’t both know. They had been dating for three months, crushing on each other for two before that, and every minute had been pure bliss. There was no doubt that Steve was the love of his life, and Eddie had been pretty sure Steve felt the same. 

Now he knew for a fact, and that was a lot to take in standing in the middle of a subpar ice cream shop. 

“I- um- I,” Steve stopped trying to stutter, giving Eddie a nervous little look, letting his eyes drop to his shoes as he shuffled in place. Eddie’s surprise faded into unbearably warm affection. He reached over and quickly squeezed Steve’s hand, knowing he wasn’t able to do more in public, but wishing he could kiss Steve until they were both drunk and delirious on their love. 

“I’ll have a black raspberry shake with chocolate sprinkles, whipped cream, and hot fudge,” Eddie called out as the cashier walked back over with Steve’s float, delivering it with a flirty little smile. Steve didn't even look at her as he took his ice cream, and she rang them up lightning fast, clearly jilted by his non-response. Eddie couldn't care less, dragging Steve over to their tables and waiting for his order to be called. 

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Eddie said softly as they sat down, the words being overshadowed by the sound of their kids happily screaming at each other. He looked around and risked a quick kiss on the cheek, getting Steve buttered up and happy before he finished his sentence. 

“Even if your taste is trash,” 

[sixeyescurseuser]

Prince/Pirate

Thinking about Gojo who is a prince known for running away for weeks at a time. His current excursion was done purely out of spite because noble court advisor, Nanamin, claimed he wouldn’t be able to survive the pirate life. 

So here Gojo is, living it up on the Black Dragon’s ship. He was actually exchanged as a prisoner from the initial crew he tried joining, but they ended up trading him for more resources. 

Now, the Black Dragon’s captain scrutinizes him from head to toe with sharp, silent eyes. 

At first glance, Captain Geto knows this pretty boy comes from money. And there’s no way in hell he’s built for this lifestyle. 

“I’ll drop you off at the next seaport,” Geto says before Gojo can even get out a simple greeting. Gojo gasps, deeply offended. 

Gojo removes the sheer blindfold that previously covered his eyes, exposing the azure blue that is easily recognized of that of Prince Gojo. 

Captain Geto’s eyes widen a fraction before doubling down. 

“Oh, we are definitely dropping you off at the next port.”

There’s no way Geto is risking his and his crew’s livelihood for a runaway prince!

Gojo frowns, and has the audacity to cross his arms in disapproval, like he’s the one in charge. 

“Well, it’d certainly be shame if after you dropped me off, I went ahead to tell the royal guard that I had just escaped the evil clutches of the Black Dragon. Would be a damn shame if a bounty were to be placed on your head,” Gojo ponders out loud. 

The captain’s gaze hardens, and Gojo knows he’s on the way to bargaining his way onto this crew. “While you decide on your answer, I’m going to go look for food around here.”

Gojo squawks when a rough hand grabs him by the collar, preventing him from walking away.

“I’ve already made up my mind. You’re allowed to stay as long as you obey my direct orders,” Geto bluntly says. 

“Okay, but-“

Geto loudly clicks his tongue, cutting Gojo off.

“If that’s anything other than ‘Yes, Captain,’ I suggest you keep your mouth shut.”

After that, Gojo sulks. He’s also forced to help the other cooks prepare the food and serve the crew first before being allowed to eat himself. A younger boy with pink-ish hair sits down next to him, offering a friendly smile. 

“Don’t worry, sir, if he didn’t throw me overboard when I first joined, then he certainly won’t kick you off,” he says. Gojo hums, wishing he had honey he could add to sweeten up this godawful, bland porridge. 

“Good to know…?”

“Itadori Yuji,” the boy introduces himself. 

“Nice to meet you, Yuji-kun.”

***

Gojo on deck cleaning duty, but it’s very hot outside so he’s shirtless…all sweaty and pink where the sun kisses his skin. 

Geto happens to walk by. Gojo is so focused on his work, but also yapping to the other crew members who are really invested in his story, that he doesn't notice Captain Geto stop in his tracks. 

Shoko, Geto’s second-in-command, waves her hand in front of his face: “Hello? Captain? I have some updates on our future routes…Captain?”

Geto is too focused on the way powerful muscles flex back and forth. The prince is so freaking tall. And why is his waist so tiny?

Geto squints. 

***

If there’s one thing Gojo didn’t need to be trained on when it comes to being a pirate, it’s speaking whatever is on his goddamn mind. 

Gojo watching Geto retreat to the captain’s room to plan their next route, eyes trailing down to Geto’s ass.

Gojo: “I could take him.”

Crew member, Haibara: “In a fight? Hmm, questionable.”

Gojo: “Nah, not like that.”

Haibara: “Eh?”

On another occasion, Gojo mentions that he once ended a five-year relationship. 

Crew member, Choso: “Holy shit, that’s tough, mate. Didn’t realize princes were even allowed to date.”

Geto: [🤨]

Gojo: “It’s okay, it wasn’t my relationship. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Who knew the most common nights husbands cheat on their wives would be a Thursday?”

Geto: [relieved sigh]

The story is, one of the times Gojo ran away, he made a name for himself as the “Six Eyes” where he was paid to follow spouses to investigate if they were committing adultery. 

An example of Gojo’s note to a client: “Yes, he’s cheating. No, he couldn't make her cum. Their next meeting is Saturday at XXX bar. Do yourself a favor and dump him.”

The notes were also written in the most ELEGANT calligraphy. 

***

Gojo learns that despite being young for a captain, Geto is very respected and relatively feared among the ocean. He’s charming when he needs to be, and always extremely careful. 

Geto has made many friends around the world, but also a lot of enemies. The Black Dragon has been susceptible to many attacks, whether intercepted by the royal ships or other violent pirates. 

The crew admires their captain unconditionally. He’s provided them with a place to belong, after all. While Geto embraces their individual fighting styles, he has also taught martial arts to those who didn’t know how to fight before joining.

Gojo also learns that, boy oh boy, does Captain Geto despise the aristocrats. It was no question that royals were included as well.

Geto’s way of life is a direct resistance against the excessive luxury the wealthy live in, while ignoring the needs of common folk. Involving smaller, innocent towns in the battles between the political strifes was another huge issue too. 

Thus, Black Dragon is a pirate ship that picks targets based on status and wealth, and they also redistribute this wealth and communicate information between the smaller islands and ports. 

***

They visit Geto’s hometown, which had been depleted of resources by nearby military forces during past wartime. Their economy was shot, but they were in the process of slowly rebuilding and recovering. The scenery was beautiful too. 

While at one of the ports, some enemies catch sight of Geto and his crew. The enemies approach with calculated steps, definitely planning to cause trouble. 

Gojo is obviously very out of his element, but he still doesn’t appreciate being told to wait on the ship while Geto and the crew settle things off.

Gojo "agrees," then proceeds to walk off and hide inside a random shop for five minutes before leaving to hide among the crowd so he can watch Captain Geto in action, dueling this other no-name pirate.

There Gojo is, extremely proud for egging the pirates on and cheering for HIS captain. 

Geto’s crew spot Gojo and are like: “Aren’t you supposed to be on the ship?” 🤨🤨🤨

Gojo brings a finger up to his lips with a pleading expression. 

Shoko: “At least put a hat on. If the Captain spots that white hair, he’ll definitely get distracted.”

She lends him a cloth to wrap around his head. Now, Gojo looks like a proper pirate!

The enemy eventually yields, and backs off after a rather aggressive threat from Captain Geto. Gojo doesn't have much time to drool over how sexy Geto looks because Gojo must BOOK it to the ship to save his ass. 

A few minutes later, Geto returns, then points to the cloth wrapped around Gojo’s head: “Why are you wearing that?”

Gojo, yeeting the cloth off: “No reason!”

Gojo then notices the sheer amount of things Geto carries in his arms. When he asks whether Geto bought souvenirs, Geto tells Gojo to follow him.

They end up in the captain's room, where Geto shows Gojo his collection of trinkets which were gifts from the common people Geto visited during his travels. 

Unlike the royal gifts that are typically bestowed, like expensive perfumes, jewelers, or pounds of gold, these trinkets were like handmade bracelets, a shiny coin dating centuries back, paintings from children, etc. They were all thank you gifts for visiting their islands and helping out one way or another.

Gojo is entirely taken aback.

“Holy shit, you've touched so many people's lives!” Gojo exclaims, bright blue eyes shining with wonder. “You're fucking amazing, you know that? It's an honor to be on your ship, Captain.”

Geto doesn't respond, merely has a sincere yet shy smile on his face.

At that moment, hearing those words come from Prince Gojo himself, Geto felt seen in a way that feels new and exciting and makes something warm flutter in his chest.

Oh no, abandon ship! Abandon ship! The voice inside his mind shouts.

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

[sillystarters]

it's always sunny in philadelphia season sixteen starter sentences.

starter sentences taken from episodes one - three from season sixteen of it's always sunny in philadelphia. part one of ??

have you ever seen teenage mutant ninja turtles ?

you spent close to $20,000 on a couch you never owned.

that's pretty bad business fellas.

now listen i have glued my hand to a door so they can't physically remove me.

you know, i know stuff.

that's money talk right there.

how much nut do you go through a month?

are you storing up your nut or are you blowing through it?

i'll give you fifty cents for a buck.

come, have a seat.

it was super cheap dude.

well listen, i don't really have any interest in your bulk tin of low end economy nuts.

yeah don't make a mess.

what's behind that door?

holy shit! what the fuck is this?

i wasn't tryin' to be crypto about it.

this is tits!

can i sleep in here?

we're gonna blow our shoes out with all this walking.

how is this not a big deal?

move past it dude, move past it man.

i really ultimately don't give a shit.

did you glue your hand to my door?

i can tell you're mad.

i can't deal with this.

and just leave me here all alone?

i don't wanna be a bad host.

you know what, this was a mistake.

i can't sleep.

what is going on with you dude?

what you workin' on there bud?

is that thing loaded, by the way?

get off my back.

you know what? screw this.

i am in the prime of my life.

okay so it was loaded, my mistake. don't be so dramatic.

it's not like anybody's in any real danger.

getting shot in the face is pretty cool.

i do care about the money though.

i got some bad news for ya, bud.

i figured you probably forgot too or something.

did you try to pull out your own teeth?

i'm so sorry.

i didn't have the heart to tell you.

those ungrateful bitches.

i can't believe you did this!

i'm not mad at you okay? it's fine.

you did make a mistake.

i didn't mean to upset you.

this is not working.

should we just attack him and take it?

shut up!

this is my worst nightmare in my entire life.

she burnt the shit outta me.

i got a little surprise for ya.

you wanna take it easy? goddamn. just one bite at a time.

ha! i almost ate my gun.

i hope everyone brought their appetite because i made quiche!

this is like, everything you've ever wanted.

that is ... sad.

this is so annoying.

alright, where to now?

a perfect day can't last forever.

what the hell are you doing?

you're outta control with that thing.

just barge right in okay don't be shy.

oh my god what are you doing here?

this is so distasteful.

asmr, dickweed!

how long has it been?

that's a definite pass for me.

this is a million to one shot and i've got a really good feeling about this.

our luck just turned around.

i don't wanna have my ass handed to me.

we have a problem.

whatever you do, don't laugh.

this is bad, dude.

what? why are you trying to break my door down at three in the morning?

i just wanted to ask if you could kindly keep the noise down.

this was very sweet of you to bake these for me.

it's a trophy, see? it says cunt of the year. that's you!

bad things are going to happen to you one day. i guarantee it.

you earned it!

we're not having bad luck, we're having good luck.

come here you rat! die!

it's time to make good on your end of the bargain.

what is your deal, man?

i'm going to beat you with my shoe!

we gotta take this seriously.

go make your apologies!

i'm done listening to this.

'just in case' is as good of a reason to believe in anything as any.

i don't believe in that bullshit.

well, that's not good.

that's a bad omen!

boy, that's a shame.

thank you for this.

i'm just trash right? that's what you said.

i got you a sixer!

i gotta show you something but you gotta keep it a secret.

you're not following.

it makes literally no sense.

a moment of your time?

i'm sorry your dad doesn't like you.

[rozcdust]

Addicted

Pairing: Ran Haitani x f!reader x Kakucho Hitto

Genre: Crack, SMAU

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Canon divergent, ooc, profanity, substance abuse, Inui and the reader are a problem both

masterlist

“It was fucking weird, okay? He just started going on and off about Naoto.” Annoyed, you moved your hands just as Inui was painting them, not caring for the smear of nail polish, “Like, who does that? I have shit to do, I am on the clock, and all Naoto’s stupid laptop needed was a goddamn reset!”

Inui’s eye twitched.

“Sorry about that.” Draken hummed from the kitchen, the apron with a saying ‘I’ll feed all you fuckers’ Inui and you bought him as a joke last year tied around his waist, stirring the meal he was preparing for the three of you.

“He is an ass and it is all your fault for even introducing us, Draken.” Glaring at his back, Draken merely shrugged.

“You met when we were 14, I didn’t know he'd be such a pushover when he grew up. To be fair, you were a bitch to Naoto. You still owe us that story.”

“All of my friends are technologically illiterate.” You scoffed, ignoring the last comment just as Inui finished painting your pinkie, screwing the nail polish shut and carefully taking your hands into his, fixing the few spots where the polish ended up on your skin, bringing your hands closer to his face to look over his work.

Deciding he’s satisfied, he hums, letting your hands fall to your side as he comfortably leans back on the couch, grabbing the remote to open Netflix.

Deciding his thigh is the best pillow currently available, you lay down, closing your eyes, humming in satisfaction when his fingers softly tangled into your hair.

“Ken, what do you wanna watch?” Glancing back from behind the couch, Inui waits for a response, but Draken doesn’t answer, too busy setting the table.

“Y/n, what do you wanna watch?”

Shrugging, you peek through one open eye, glancing at the screen.

“I could go for horror.”

Draken groaned, and you could feel his glare even through the couch.

You smirked just as Inui huffed out a laugh.

“Too scared, tough guy? We’ll protect you,” Teasingly, you sat up, looking at the Draken over the couch, “This is merely payback for all the time I had to listen to you simp for Inui.”

Draken's gaze merely sharpens as he settles the last set of chopsticks on the plate.

“Come on, the food is ready.”

“Let me bum a smoke off of you?”

Draken brings his cigarette to your lips, letting you take a drag, the wind blowing the ash into your hair and clothes but you ignore it, focused on the solemn expression on your friend’s face.

“He’s pretty, is all.” Draken blew out the smoke through his nose, swinging his legs back and forth atop a rooftop, his braid swinging in the wind, “Maybe that’s why I like him. His lips look soft.”

You open your eyes, laying down with your head on his lap, observing your friend with curiosity.

“He is beautiful, I will admit. Has a sort of charm to him.”

“Do you think I should do something about it?”

You observe your friend carefully, the curve of his neck and jaw, the way the strand of the hair he always has pulled out gently carcasses his cheek, forcing him to scrunch his nose and try to move it away, and you reminisce over the boy he once was.

You think about your sleepovers when you were younger, in that stupid brothel Draken called home, when your father needed some company, trying desperately to be a good dad but still being too lonely of a man with too much money lining his pockets, and you think about all the dreams and plans and futures you and Draken planned as kids, so stupid and so naive, a thousand posibilities in front of you.

But you weren’t kids, not anymore, haven’t been in a long, long while, and you knew that was better left unsaid.

You wanted to tell Draken that no, he shouldn’t try anything, it was too soon after Emma, too soon after Mikey, too many wounds to tend to, and Inui would be just another right person and wrong time, but you kept that thought out of your mouth and instead, clicking your tongue, you poked Draken’s cheek, smirking.

“I think you’re just thinking with your dick.”

Inui and you settled on the couch with Draken in the middle, both of you leaning on his shoulder, curled up into his side under a blanket for additional warmth during the cold November night.

Draken was never a fan of horror, being somewhat of a scaredy cat for a man as tough and tall as he is, and every time he flinches, Inui and you share a smug look.

You liked it when it was like this, nothing but the movie and the sound of occasional shifting filling in the silence, Inui’s and Draken’s soft breathing almost lulling you to sleep as Draken’s fingers play across your back, allowing you to nuzzle your face into his neck, planting a soft kiss to your forehead.

You enjoyed the domesticity, the possibility to run away from the chaotic, adrenaline-filled lifestyle you chose for yourself, and Inui and Draken were perfect for spending a couple of hours in comfort, with their pleasant, permeating silence.

They were two men with too many traumas and pasts to bear and yet they stayed soft, filing away the sharp edges of each other until touching them didn’t hurt, until their anger turned into something warm and comfortable.

“Have you talked to Kakucho?” Inui almost whispers, glancing at you in curiosity.

“Hasn’t called me or tried to text me, so I guess that puppy is out of the litter.” You shrug, closing your eyes momentarily.

“Shame, he’s hot.” Inupi shrugged, receiving a sharp look from his boyfriend.

“What? I can admit a guy is hot without wanting to fuck him, Ken, don’t be jealous.”

Draken’s eyes narrowed, but he merely clicked his tongue, now focused on you.

“Wanna stay and sleep over? We still have your shit from the last time you stayed.” Draken waited for a response as you pondered, dramatically tapping your chin.

“Sure. I can take the couch, or the futon.” You offer, politely, but Draken shook his head.

“Our bed can fit all of us, no need.”

Which was a fat fucking lie.

Draken’s and Inui’s bed was the perfect size for the two of them to adequately rest, but Draken and you slept restlessly, kicking and stealing the blankets, and every other time you slept over, Inui either ended up on the floor, or you’d end up horizontally laying on them, or Draken would simply wake up sprawled on top of you and Inui.

It was always good sleep, something you rarely got, so you didn’t feel like rejecting their offer.

“Sure. Though, if I kick you in the face again, it's not my fault.“

Draken opened his mouth to bite back, but a jumpscare appeared on the screen, causing him to only let out a short shriek.

Inui and you will never let him live that down.

“Hey, wanna go out tomorrow night? Been a while since we went clubbing.” You quirk an eyebrow, glancing between the two men.

Inui scrunched his nose in disapproval, but nodded anyway.

“Sure, I’d love to get shit-faced. We’re not going to a casino though. We’re both tired of being your arm candy.”

A pout formed on your face.

“Boring~ but sure. Just good, old-fashioned clubbing. God approved and stamped. No illegal or illicit activities. Dancing and leaving enough room for Jesus.“

“Deal. I’ll call up the gang.”

. . . next

🔖Taglist (open):

@1818cigarettes @nana-phobia @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @levistiddies @7rkx @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @shiyuumisaki @xashiui @bontens-whore @chronic-claire-universe @nqctre @crybabylisa @adeptiixiao @denkis-sluttyboy @yukimaniac @toobsessedsstuff @yuushs @sh4nn @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @syddisheep @satsuri3su @soushswag @wisteria-aa @bontensbabygirl @qualitygiantshoepsychic @levii-s @astropheia @galactict3a @a-toxic-person @inurmom00

[messinwitheddie]

Dipper “Could everyone please lay off the murder jokes, especially YOU, grunkle Stan! There's dark humor and then there's just being obnoxious and cruel.”

Stan “Far be it from me to lighten the mood.”

Dipper “If any of us were cracking Holocaust jokes, would you be laughing?”

Stan “No, I suppose not.”

Dipper “There you go. I understand Nny doesn't give a shit about his victims. It's his house, it's his life story to tell, it's his prerogative, I get it, but the rest of us really should have the decency to show some goddamn respect for the dead and their families. Everyone stop cracking jokes and stop laughing.”

Squee “He has a point, guys.”

Soos “I… I was just trying to engage in conversation.”

Dib “Why are you being so uptight right now? You knew whose spirit we were trying to contact.”

Dipper “Because we're supposed to be documenting a real and indisputable ghost sighting! Professionalism counts here!”

Dib “Fuck you, man! I'm the most professional investigator here!”

Dipper “Fuck YOU! You're not more “professional”! You just have way more money to throw around!”

Dib “You've been a bitch this whole trip; what is your malfunction?!”

Dipper “You and your trust fund baby big golden dickitry!”

Squee “Alright! Turn off the cameras! Shut off all the gadgets! Everyone separate and take 15!”

Dib “Sure! We only have so many hours to interact with their corporeal forms, but sure! Let's take a 15! Real fucking professional!”

Dipper “Dude, shut up!”

Dib “YOU shut up!”

*Door slams*

Squee “Hey, Soos, Mr. Pines, you want to…?”

Stan “Yeah, yeah, We’ll set the boys straight. Be right back.”

*Dialogue for a later date*

Squee “Don't mind them. Dib and Dipper collaborating on the same investigation is kind of like locking two honey badgers in a box. They'll probably fight to the death and the box will be destroyed in the process. You should have seen them when they were deconstructing this alien's abandoned base or when-”

Nny “All of your new family and friends think I'm a scumbag.”

Squee “Noooo, they don't.”

Nny “They HATE me. Everyone here hates me. Boss-er- Stan definitely hates me and I don't blame any of them.”

Squee “You're fine, man.”

Nny “Please don't make me do this.”

Squee “Like Dipper said, they're here to try to record some concrete evidence of ghosts. They're not here to judge anybody. Everyone is coming back soon and we're all gonna be cool and get through this interview. Keep being you, but maybe be... slightly less so.”

Nny “I'm going to hide in the floorboards until everyone leaves or I die and get flung back into the ethereal horrors a.gain”

Squee “There’s way too many bodies stuffed under there for you to fit too and you know it.”

Nny “Awww…shit!”

Some bs wrm up sketches for today drawn to some unused dialogue. Kind of wish I had written down some of the murder jokes that popped into my head the other night at work, but this post is long enough and I have to move on.

I love the idea of Dib and Dipper being good friends, but I also picture them clashing pretty hard when teaming up on paranormal research.

[raraeavesmoriendi]

“it’s obvious the parties are exactly the same and it doesn’t make any difference which one’s in office—“

as a texan — I get what you’re going for, but buddy, I am exhaustedly asking you to shut the fuck up.

there’s a reason people like myself - queer, gender variant, neuroweird, etc. - are having to figure out how to even come close to affording to leave the only homes we’ve ever known. there’s a reason I’m having to choose between being a humanities educator in the South, something I’ve dedicated a good portion of my life to at this point, and maybe actually having a quality of life/life expectancy that matches the rest of the country’s.

ted cruz has been in office since 2013. john cornyn has been in office since 2002. our last democratic governor, ann richards, stepped down because she lost to fucking pre-presidency “dubya” in 1995. after him, we got rick perry of dancing with the stars fame, and then we got abbott, our current blight on humanity.

compare us now to any smug fucking blue state, in terms of quality of life, in terms of economy and unemployment, in terms of infrastructure, in terms of education, in terms of marginalized communities living in constant anxiety, and tell me to my goddamn face that not having the scumsucking boot-licking worst of the death cult party wouldn’t have made a lick of difference for the people who actually live under their policies.

I get your frustration that the parties don’t seem as dissimilar as we want them to be on an international level. I share that frustration, especially when things are this fucking dire due to the State interfering overseas in other people’s governments and lives.

but for the love of any god that might exist, I am thisclose to shaking the next dipshit yankee motherfucker who thinks doing the absolute sandbag level minimum of not letting our current problem get fucking worse is meaningless, aka fucking beneath them.

american republicans/conservatives/whatever you want to call them are like cancer. once they get in where they want to be, you will have a fucking bitch of a time scraping them all out again, and the repercussions will be even disastrous for everyone than they already are. I know. we are living proof. just look at louisiana, where I live now, or any of the gulf states still dependent on big oil while the water keeps fucking rising.

god fucking damn, I have been voting against the same three scab-chewing suit-fucking slimeballs nearly the entire time I have been eligible to vote, and they are so well entrenched by now with their ‘fuck you’ money and their good ol boy connections, I don’t think they’re leaving their little snake dens while they can still stand up.

and the people who they want to implant at the federal level have made it clear they will do all sorts of illegal shit to keep power once they’re in there. they’re being pretty blatant about that this time.

making sure we put up even the most minimal fight against them being able to pull that shit has nothing to do with any kind of party loyalty. it is not a panacea, it’s not the only thing people are asking others to do, it’s not going to solve everything, it’s just putting a finger on the scale to tip it in our direction. but if we can scrape by with even that much, it will make a difference, and we will need every single bit of that we can get in what’s coming.

you do not want them at the national level again, they will never fucking leave. I speak from experience. why on earth would you just up and hand them any advantage they don’t already have.

anyone who wants to fight about it can go sit with that guy I know from new york whose best contribution for what’s to come was starting a maoist group on a red state college campus - fine in theory, negligible in terms of actual practice.

y’all talk amongst yourselves while the rest of us are busy trying to take every precaution against the coming fucking hurricane, down to the littlest sandbag.

[bellesowl]

kiss and make up

- multiple characters 

⤷ atsumu, sakusa

genre: (an attempt at) angst to fluff ; established relationship, timeskip 

synopsis: in which you have an almost relationship-ending argument

word count: 2.1k total - about 1k each

warnings: fighting (obv), being called a burden, the boys are kinda mean but they make up for it i swear

- a/n: tbh i was kinda getting sick of writing just fluff so i wanted to spice it up a lil! if this sucks i’m probably going to stick to fluff fics but i think it should be fine? this one also only has 2 characs cause idk how i would be at writing angst LMAO if this does well enough i’ll post the one i have written w kuroo and iwa <3 but i feel like this kinda sucks so oh well

- thank u @kybabi for beta-ing <3

- miya atsumu

you n atsumu have been together since high school which is why you’ve always been inseparable

you went to the same college & moved in together right after, but once he got his job with the jackals, he insisted that you didn’t work and focused on getting your master’s degree

you reluctantly agreed, if only to be able finish & earn your phd soon after

because atsumu is always busy, it’s kinda become commonplace for you to do the chores around the house- like doing the laundry or washing the dishes or cooking dinner for him

but it’s gotten to the point where he expects it

atsumu sighs, unlocking the door to your shared apartment. today’s practice was rough, it was a day of hard conditioning and bad sets and he wanted nothing more than a good meal and to cuddle. the first thing he noticed when he walked in was the mess. instant ramen bowls were scattered everywhere, empty coke cans and dirty napkins were all over the floor, and there you were, in the eye of the hurricane. the second thing he noticed was that there was no homecooked meal.

surprised, he walks into the dining room to see you, furiously typing away at your laptop with four different books surrounding you. you hear his footsteps and look up.

“hey baby! how was practice?” you ask with a smile

atsumu grunts in reply and gestures toward the kitchen, “so.. what’s for dinner babe?”

your eyes widen, “oh shoot! i’m sorry, i was so busy studying for this final that i forgot to cook. do you mind-“ you stop when you see him roll his eyes and head out.

“um, where are you going? you just got home?” you ask, following him.

“out. i have to get food somehow” he replies, “especially because my useless s/o can’t cook a goddamn meal for me” he mutters under his breath

you stop in shock because did he really just say that?

“i’m sorry, i don’t think i heard you right.” you start but he interrupts you

“i said, i have to go get food because someone is too busy to cook a goddamn meal. what do you even do anyways- well, besides spend my money? the least you can do is cook for me, god.” he finally turns to look at you but he feels his heart stop at the look on your face.

not wanting to escalate the situation any further, you try to calm him down, “tsum, hey, i’m sorry i forgot to cook okay? this is my last final before the year ends and i just can’t afford to fail it, so i’ve been studying all day. if you come back to the kitchen, i’ll make you something, okay?”

“i don’t want to eat your half assed attempt at a meal, y/n. the whole point is that you couldn’t get off your ass for an hour to cook when i make the money, i paid for the apartment, hell, i’m even paying for your school! is it really too much to ask for you to stop being such a burden and cook and clean everyday?” he fumed.

you gape at him, shocked that he would even say that. to hell with not escalating things

“at least i want to do something more with my life than hit balls around and retire at 35” you hiss, “and i do everything in this house! i do the laundry, i clean the bathroom, i cook - i do all the things you refuse to. and do i complain? no. i offered to get a job but you refused.”

you turn around to grab your laptop and your textbooks, “just- just do whatever the hell you want to, atsumu.” and with that you walk out the door.

atsumu’s heart drops when he realizes that you actually left. sure, you’ve had arguments here and there, but you’ve never left. he pulls out his phone to call you when he sees you’ve left yours on the counter. knowing there’s nothing to do but wait at this point, he begins to clean up and calls osamu over.

-

it’s already 3 am when you walk back into your apartment, and you blink multiple times when you open the door. it’s ... clean? you’re sure it was a mess when you left, so how would it be clean? you sigh, too tired to think about it more and walk into the kitchen. your eyes widen at the sight. not only is your favorite food on the stove, but there your boyfriend is, asleep on the dining table. you smile slightly, well that explains things.

“ ‘’mu, hey, wake up babe.” you kiss him lightly and shake him.

he grunts and sits up, “baby! i’m so so sorry for what i said. you are in no way, shape, or form a burden, i have no clue why i said that. today’s practice was just really tiring, but i know i shouldn’t have taken it out on you. just please-” he sighs, “just please don’t leave me again.”

your heart breaks your teary eyed boyfriend. “shh, of course baby. i’ll never leave you again okay?” you say, tugging on his arm, “cmon babe, let’s go to bed, okay?”

“mm okay my love.” he replies and practically pulls you into bed. “i love you, okay?”

“i love you too baby.” you reply

“to the moon and back?” he asks

“yeah, and to infinity and beyond.” you reply, your lack of sleep hitting you hard

“oh, i didn’t know i was dating buzz lightyear”

you let out a loud laugh and just like that you both fall into the same routine, love radiating off both of you in waves.

- sakusa kiyoomi

dating sakusa was,, challenging

it definitely took him a while to get comfortable with you

so you guys have been dating for a couple years now, and at this point he’s def clingy

however there still moments when he reverts to his old self

this just happened to be one of those times

“OUT! AND JUST LIKE THAT, EJP RAIJIN TAKES THE WIN AGAINST THE BLACK JACKALS!”

the stadium is silent before the ejp cheering section erupts in cheers. you stay silent, watching your team below. you watch as sakusa stills, still in disbelief. you make your way down, practically sprinting to your boyfriend.

he sees you on the sideline and makes his way over to you. you put on your biggest smile and attempt to make him feel better.

“you did great, kiyo! you’ll get them next time, yeah?” you beam, knowing how hard he’s been training to beat his cousin

he eyes you warily, not knowing what to say.

usually, sakusa gets pretty clingy after games, so you you move to give him a hug.

“don’t touch me” he barked, jerking away from you. “if you hadn’t been distracting me, we would’ve won.”

you stare at him, refusing to let the tears flow. you both turn when you hear a certain setter yelling at the opposing middle and you sigh.

“um, okay then. i’ll see you at home, yeah?” you ask

sakusa merely nods and makes his way over to his teammates. you look around to see if anyone saw what just happened and you lock eyes with your boyfriend’s cousin, who walks over.

“congrats on the win komori! you guys did so well!” you cheered

“thanks, y/n! and i’m sorry about kiyoomi. i’m sure you know he gets that way sometimes.” he explains

you smile and shake your head, saying that you’re used to it and you both bid your farewells. as you walk out of the stadium, you think back to how your boyfriend, the one person you loved with everything you had in you, utterly embarrassed you in front of his whole team. before you know it, silent tears start streaming down your face. 

you enter your home and immediately rush to the bathroom. you draw yourself a bath and make some dinner while waiting. you assume that kiyoomi wouldn’t be home to have dinner with you anyways- and now that you think about it, you can’t remember the last time you had dinner together. after you finish your bath and eat your dinner, you decide to wait up for boyfriend and watch a couple episodes of your favorite show to pass the time. 

-

kiyoomi walks into his apartment at around 1 am, completely and utterly exhausted. he kicks his shoes off and drops his bag on the floor. The rustling rouses you from sleep and you sit up.

“hey kiyo” you say with a yawn, “where’ve you been all night?” 

sakusa ignores you in favor of getting ready for bed and you frown when he brushes past you. 

“kiyo, babe, what’s wrong? you’ve been ignoring me all night and i-” you start but he interrupts you before you can finish. 

“god, just shut up, y/n. can’t you tell i don’t want to talk to you right now? i’ve already had the worst day, i don’t need you making it any worse.” he snaps

"kiyoomi, look, i understand you’re upset but you shouldn’t take it out on me.” you reason, reaching out towards him, “listen, i’m here if you wanna-” 

“i said, do not touch me.” he seethes. “you are so fucking clingy y/n, lord, let me breathe a little.”

with those words, you explode. “you know what, sakusa,” he flinches when he hears his last name come out of your mouth, “i think i have the right to want to spend some time with my boyfriend! i haven’t seen you in god knows how long- you leave before i wake up and i fall asleep in an empty bed. i’ve been working my ass off to get some time off to watch your stupid volleyball game and what do you do? you embarrass me in front of your whole team!”

you sigh, wiping away the tears that continue that continue to fall. “listen, i don’t want to fight right now. i’m going to go stay at a friend’s house for the night, alright? i’ll see you tomorrow” you say, grabbing your purse. “if you’re even home tomorrow,” you add under your breath.

sakusa is in shock. the moment he saw your tears start to spill, he felt an undeniable and unrelenting ache in his chest that only seemed to grow with every work that came out of your mouth. and when the door shut? sakusa fell on his knees, his heart dropping. he truly couldn’t believe he said that to you. now all he had to do was wait till you got home.

-

2:38 pm - you check the time on your phone before pulling out your keys. you hope you made the right move, choosing to come back home while kiyoomi was still at practice. you open the door and the sight causes your eyes to widen.

there, on the couch with your favorite flowers in hand, is your boyfriend. he hears the door open and stands up abruptly.

“y/n, my love, i am so sorry. i truly cannot express how horrible i feel, and i cannot begin to understand how you feel.” he takes a deep breath, seemingly holding back tears. “i- i do love you. i love you more than i’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life. i know i’m not the best at expressing it, but you mean the world to me- no, you are my world. without you, i don’t know what i would do. so please-” his voice cracks, “just, please give me another chance?”

you run towards your boyfriend, practically tackling him. “kiyo, baby, of course. i love you too, you know? you just can’t do that anymore, yeah? you shouldn’t feel like you have the right to embarrass me just because you had a bad day. and please, don’t call me clingy? i know i do stick to you like glue sometimes, but that’s just because i never see you anymore.” you reply.

“that will all change, darling.” he answers sincerely, “i’ll make more time for you, i swear. in fact, i’ll take the week off, how does that sound?” at the sight of your smile, he relaxes.

“that sounds wonderful, yoomi.” you answer

sakusa feels the weight that’s been dragging him down lift and he realizes the effect you have on him- you’re his breath of fresh air. he also realizes how utterly idiotic it was to push away the one person who could make him feel better.

it’s fine, he reasons, he’ll just never make that mistake again. he swears it.

[hangezoeenthusiast]

God(hcs)

c!multiple x god!reader

notes: the reader will be the god of death to make it a little bit more spicy :). c!punz’s pronouns are he/they, i’m not sure about the others, but i know theirs. also why does ranboo take away my gender? /j

word count: 1,672

warnings: arson, violence, cursing, yelling, mention of death, voices in technos part, spoilers for wilbur if you haven’t watch tommy’s lore stream, revival for wilbur, making a religion, time travel, egg, prison, stealing, anarchy, playful name calling

Sapnap

so obviously y’all would be a great match :)

you have creative mode, so when sap would ask you to give him a lighter and tnt, you would GLADLY give it

also, can we talk about him being a nether hybrid

fire squared

like fires left and right, hide your mom and your children in your house lol /j

but besides the whole arson thing, you favor him above anyone else on the server

like if he asks for diamond blocks, well here’s a whole inventory of it, also, here’s some ancient debris and some netherite

if someone asked, you would probably grant them with poison and curses, just because you can’t be “unloyal” to snapchat 

wouldn’t be lonely anymore

Dreamwastaken

this duo is less chaotic, but chaotic enough where people avoid you

he still asks you for stuff, but most of the time, you don’t give him it because he annoys you too much about giving stuff

“hey y/n/n, can i pretty please get some emerald blocks.”

“nope bitch, get it yourself.”

but sometimes, you grant him some op shit, when it’s your good day

“because i’m being nice, here’s some diamond, now, don’t ask me again you little piss baby.”

“shut your trap y/n.”

“or what homeless teletubby, what are you going to do to a god like me?”

“you hang out with technoblade to much.”

Georgenotfound

maybe the least chaotic duo

you guys keep on relaxing and relaxing until the point where you don’t do anything

he barely asks you for anything, but only when it’s really really important, like a house or build

especially when he was building his little cottagecore house, he needed your godly presence to help

“y/n, what should the roof be made of?”

“i suggest brick, it makes it more aestheticy if that makes any sense.”

also barely any drama or tea with you guys

never arguing and never betraying each other is a must

Tubbo

also another least chaotic duo

literally help him with his bee farm, he will (platonically) love you forever

gotta be close to ranboo, that’s the rule

gives him SO much stuff, he’s a precious boi 🙄

also gotta be close to tommy, but not as much unfortunately

you help him pick out things for builds, like what material clashes with another, etc

“do you think that the wool and the netherite blocks look good together y/n?”

“nah, what i suggest is the wool with the gold, it looks perfect.”

sometiems, gotta put him in check because he gets a little ego built up

you definitely yank his horn a little too hard because of your IMMENSE STRENGTH

“OW, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT Y/N.”

“calm down sunny, you were just getting a bit over your head a little.”

Tommyinnit

chaotic duo like sapnap

snaps at anyone who annoys you and vice versa

you give him EVERYTHING, obviously except op and creative

he tries to persuade you to do something, but dreamxd wouldn’t allow it, since he is the main boss

“come on y/n, give me op.”

“no tommy, xd will kick my ass.”

“pweaseee.”

“no.”

you would DEFINITELY help him with the Big Innit Hotel, making the whole layout and color palette.

both of you have an intense hatred for ranboo, since he “stole” tubbo away from tommy

Ranboo

least involved in everything

just stay in the tundra and drink some tea, and you’re good for all of your life

helps him get netherite all the time so your boii can get the good stuff 😬

when he mines to get diamonds, he literally prays to you

“y/n, if you’re listening, please give me a 6 vein, i desperately need it for my collection of diamond blocks.”

and THERE IT IS

more than a 6 vein actually, a 12 vein

guess he needs to pray to you more

daily tea sessions, to talk about the good stuff, and NO, and i repeat NO skipping

threatening to flick water on him check ✅

Wilbur Soot

literally you spoil him

not to be angsty, but when he died and lost his last canon life, you revived him instead of Dream

now he’s practically at your knees

like he’s thinks that he owes you, but actually that’s the opposite

he was revived because you were lonely, and wanted your best friend back :(

prays to you when he goes to bed

“hey y/n, hope you’re having a great day, (platonically) love you.”

“love you too mortal.”

sometimes, to be at the peak of godness, you shower upon wilbur as gold to symbolize blessings, like zeus did before

“omg y/n, what are you doing?”

“i’m trying to bless you, shut up bitch.”

just saying, he would make a religion about you :/

Karl Jacobs

omg don’t get me started on this

first, you wouldn’t codone him going back in time

he would definitely forget your name a lot, so that’s why you hated it

“hey karl, how are you doing?”

“i’m sorry, but do i know you?”

ANGST IS TOO MUCH FOR ME

you were definitely the one to push him towards sapnap and quackity

this is also another spoiled boi

give him the entire world while you’re at it pwease

he wants a few diamonds, nope, give him a chest full of them

Quackity

why are there so much chaotic duos in here?

literally chaos times infinity

energy to the max

literally, did you take an energy drink

grants him every wish he can randomly think off

“can i get a bucket with lava and a fish in it?”

“weird choice, but ok man.”

gotta be close to sap and karl or he isn’t your friend anymore /j

helps with las nevadas a lot, and definitely tries to rig the machines so you get money

“hey big q, i got 10,000 dollars.”

“that’s impossible... y/n, did you cheat?”

“nooo 😊”

help him preen his wings, and he goes “I LOVE YOU, MWAH MWAH.” obviously in his mind 🙄

Awesamdude

definitely helps him maintain the prison

you both love setting up red stone contraptions and pistons and all that giz

“hey sam, do you know where the redstone torches are?”

“yeah, there behind the pistons in the back.”

also you helped build the prison, since he could do that by himself

“are you sure that lava wall will work y/n, your calculations seem inaccurate.”

“i’m sure sam, this will add some more security to this goddamn server.”

nerd squared lol

BadBoyHalo

wouldn’t condone the egg

you warned him multiple times to get away from its grasp, but most of the times he’ll decline

“i won’t y/n, the egg is the future.”

he still, even after all the advancements, even after everything, he tries to ask you to join the eggpire

“come on y/n, you’ll like being with us.”

“i don’t wanna be on a stupid egg side, like let me crack the egg, i wanna eat it and turn it into a omelette.”

he doesn’t like that joke :(

but before he discovered the egg, both of you were joint at the hip

sight seeing was a must

languages being thrown around everywhere, since you were the little language muffin

Punz

steals stuff from everyone

hide your stuff, because the punzo-y/n team is unstoppable

definitely they can be really stubborn and indecisive

like one day, he will be like, “i need gold blocks.” and the next, “nevermind, i need netherite actually.”

like hon, stop switching

also anarchy buddies

burning down forests and buildings are your guys’s specialty

when you give him gold when they doesn’t ask, his heart goes brrr and his brain goes, “pog pog, they’re so cool, lets hug them.”

Technoblade

now this is the most deadly duo in the entire Dream Smp

better not piss you guys off 😐

he’s the Blood God, and you’re the God/Goddess/God being of Death

so if some occasion where you need to battle someone, like Techno’s enemies, *clears throat and murmurs Quackity*, you will obviously back your boy up :)

help him with enchanting and potions and he’s set for life

also you got have to be close to the great Philza Minecraft since him and Techno are buddy buddy

anarchy squared

helps with the voices since you have some of your own

“so what you’re saying is that i need to pay attention to them?”

“yeah, when i first learned that the voices were in my head, i tried to ignore them, but that sucked. so what i did was try to distract myself with various tasks, and that sucked.”

“so what do i do, you’re saying that i should listen to them, but how do i do that when they literally shout at me.”

“just embrace it, obviously when they do their little chant of blood for the blood god, you have to ignore them.”

“you suck at advice.”

Philza Minecraft

so since both of you resemble death, him being the Angel of Death and you being the God/Goddess/God being of Death, y’all are fucking best friends, platonic soulmates if you will

death squared

watch out, because if you piss them off, prepare to d-

gotta be close to Ranboo and Techno, and obviously others who he platonically likes

he doesn’t need to ask you for stuff, he’s the fricking Angel of Death, but he will ask you to preen his wings :D

“ow, not there y/n.”

“oh shut up grandpa, let me do it.”

“I’M NOT OLD DUMBASS.”

Dream XD

two gods at once, damn there is so much chaos

left and right, you guys are noticed by everyone, like purrrr

y’all would be in some fancy shit, to show your power

you would get jealous of him hanging out with george

“why are you jealous y/n?”

“you’re hanging out with george to much, hang out with me please :(.”

gifts are a must, even though both of you have access to creative

[inkykeiji]

bright light city gonna set my soul on fire

ace anon said: wanna suggest dabi taking you to a poker game as a good luck charm then betting you on a game and losing...or winning and bragging about it by fucking you on the table

genre: smut + implied crooked secret agent/spy AU set in the late 1950s???

notes: AH ace i loved this idea SO MUCH it ended up sparking an entire fic!! heavily inspired by ian fleming’s 1953 novel casino royale + martin campbell’s 2006 film casino royale. it is set in clari’s version of the 1950s and in no way historically accurate!! think of it as an AU of the 1950s, if that makes sense ehehe | title credit: viva las vegas by elvis | songs mentioned in the fic itself: don’t and i beg of you by elvis, rockin’ robin by bobby day

warnings: 18+, period typical use of the word Daddy (not with dabi), inappropriate use of the word Mister, slight degradation, mentioned somnophilia, slight dacryphilia, minimal prep, night terrors, blood, murder, generally toxic codependant relationship, one implied mention of drug use (morphine), mentions of tense family dynamics

words: 8.5k

synopsis:

Yes, as much as he’d like to deny it, it’s true; Dabi fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you.

Because Dabi saw more than just a pretty little thing when your gazes first met.

He saw the perfect weapon, a diamond in the rough just waiting—begging—to be cleaned and cut and formed into the most brilliant gem, into the most ideal accomplice for him—because, really, what’s more dangerous than a beautiful woman? Especially when she looks like innocence personified?

Sticky pink candy, translucent and gleaming with saliva, clacks against teeth as you roll the heart-shaped lollipop around in your mouth, twirling the stick between your index finger and your thumb.

Legs kick idly as you lean back on your other hand, seated on the edge of Tomura’s massive, pristine mahogany desk, watching as his personal tailor helps Dabi shrug on a navy tuxedo jacket, stitched and sown perfectly to his measurements.

“I dunno,” he’s saying as he pivots his body a little, making a face at himself in the mirror. “I still think the black looks better,”

Ruby eyes roll up towards the ceiling, a frustrated groan spilling from between Tomura’s lips.

“You always think the black looks better. We’re going with the navy, it brings out your eyes,” he gives the back of Dabi’s head a sharp look before strolling towards you, features softening as he observes—the perfect picture of innocence, legs swinging slowly in cute little motions, strawberry lollipop sucked against the roof of your mouth, sparkling eyes floating from your boyfriend’s broad shoulders to his—your—boss’s face as he advances.

“Gimme some,” he demands, large hands finding your knees and halting your movement, using his hipbones to push them wider, making a space for himself between them and sticking his tongue out. With a giggle, you place the now misshapen candy on his tongue, gasping loudly as he snatches the candy from you, movements too quick for you to catch, and jumps away with the grace of a cat.

“Daddy!”

Tomura snickers around the lollipop in his mouth, sucking it into his cheek as he speaks around it. “Aw, come now, don’t pout,” his bottom lip pushes out to mimic your expression, tilting his head in false sympathy. “I’m sure your Mister will buy you another,”

“He better,” you mumble through your pout, eyebrows knitting together as arms cross tightly over your chest, eyes flitting to Dabi.

“I will, dollface, I will,” he vows distractedly, gaze not straying from his fingers reflected in the mirror as they fiddle with his bowtie.

“Promise, Mister?”

“Promise, baby, promise,”

Dabi’s already been briefed on the specifics of this mission—something to do with playing a poker game with a bunch of other crooked hotshots at the Sahara hotel in Las Vegas, but that’s all you know. That’s all you’re authorized to know.

Despite being Dabi’s accomplice and working for Tomura’s underground organization, you’re rarely allowed to be in Tomura’s office while the briefing happens. It’s sensitive information, dollface, and the less you know the better, and don’t misbehave now, sit pretty and quiet like a good little girl until the big boys are finished, and then Daddy and Mister will give you a pretty reward.

But! you had protested with a bottom lip involuntarily jutted out. But maybe, if I know more, I can be of better help—

But Tomura had shut that idea down before it had even finished leaving your lips.

No. Absolutely not. It’s for your own good—your own safety, you little brat—why can’t you understand that? 

You do understand that, you’ve been told a thousand times—your specialty is distractions, used to keep enemies occupied before Dabi splatters their brains on marble floors, or to pry information out of men weak to the smile of a pretty girl.

And, to be fair, Tomura does reward you pretty generously, with glittering evening gowns and designer pumps and all the handbags a gal could ever want.

You turn back to face him, red lips spread into a cunning, mischievous smile, a smile he knows all too well, a smile Dabi loves—because he taught it to you—and Tomura hates—because it means you’re about to get what you want. “So. How much money are you giving me to play with this time, Daddy?”

Tomura’s face screws up, nose scrunching. “None,” he spits, removing the lollipop from his mouth. Tiny hands grab at the air, reaching for it like a child, Tomura swiping it just out of grasp as he continues his scolding. “Last time, you nearly bought the entire shopping complex,”

“Ah, c’mon, boss,” Dabi says around a cigar, still standing in front of the full-length mirror and smoothing down his clothing. “Give the lil lady a lil somethin’, will ya?”

“Yeah, boss, c’mon,” you plead, mimicking your boyfriend, adorning your face with your signature pout and award-winning puppy-dog eyes.

“Absolutely not.” His voice is stern as he speaks, facial features hard in finality and resolution, but his eyes—irises a crimson so brilliant, so beautiful it’s terrifying, almost looks as if it’s glowing—are beginning to waver.

“You know, if you don’t, then I’m sure I’ll get bored in that big city all by myself while Dabi’s working,” you begin in a singsong voice, eyebrows raising. “And you know what happens when I get bored, Daddy,”

“She gets int’a trouble,” Dabi grumbles, eyes catching yours through the mirror, though there’s a smirk forming around the cigar, held between sharp gleaming ivory teeth.

“S’true,” you nod simply, eyelashes fluttering as you gaze at Tomura. “Please, Daddy? Pretty please? I swear I won’t spend too much this time,”

“Jus’ give ‘er your credit card r’somethin’,” Dabi waves a hand in nonchalance before patting down his pockets. “I’ll keep a’eye on ‘er, promise,”

“Take that damn cigar out of your mouth and speak properly,” Tomura spits, and you and Dabi share another look, another smirk, through the mirror. “Fine, alright? Fine,” nimble fingers pull out a sleek leather wallet, flipping it open and searching through the card slots, grumbling to himself. “Christ, the two of you are insufferable, I swear to God,”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you giggle, soft and gentle and innocent, all of the things you weren’t mere moments ago. Platinum plastic gleams in your fingers as you tilt the card in the light, gaze captivated by the way it sparkles and glitters as you speak again. “Promise I’ll bring you back something neat,”

     ✰          ✰          ✰

It’s been a few years now since the two of you met, since the two of you became partners, and Dabi swears to high heaven and back that he had tried his hardest not to fall in love with you, cross his heart, hope to die.

At least, that’s what he likes to tell himself. In actuality, he fell for you the moment he laid eyes on you—it’s as cliché and cheesy as one of those Jimmy Dean flicks, but goddamn it, it’s true all the same.

Doesn’t help that that’s one of the first things you said to him, though.

You look like Jimmy Dean, Mister, you had giggled dainty behind your hand, batting those long, thick eyelashes as you gazed up at him, gracious and polite and all the things a good little girl like you should be. Is supposed to be.

It made him want to fucking ruin you. It sparked a white-hot fire deep in the pit of his stomach, a blaze that grew, and grew, and grew with each of your cute mannerisms. It procured an inferno full of pure desire, heady and intoxicating, that nearly engulfed him in an instant.

“Oh, yeah?” he had asked with a smirk, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest, tongue running along his front teeth as he steadily held your eyes. “‘N why’s that, little miss?”

Those eyes, the sparkling ones that had been so bold only a moment ago, bashfully flitted down to the teal typewriter sitting in front of you on a large oak desk, fiddling a little with your nails against the worn keys.

Baby pink. Cute.

“Oh I—I—” your gaze flashed up to his for a moment, intense cobalt burning into your very skull, before you averted your stare again. “Well, I-I don’t mean to be rude, Mister, it’s just that—your hair,”

Sapphire eyes flicked up, as if to gaze at his forehead, as if he were able to see his own hair from just that motion, eyebrows raising with the action.

“S’all messy like the way he wears his. You know, when he’s not doing a picture and all that,”

And you noticed your mistake immediately, eyes widening, tongue tripping over your words in your haste to correct yourself, to speak properly, like a lady. “I-It’s all messy, s-sorry, excuse me, it’s all messy like the way he wears his,”

A smirk, slow and dangerous, spread across his face as he observed you, tilting his head a little as his eyes travelled down your neck, to your shoulders and the sweetheart neckline of that pretty, pretty dress, and then back up again, narrowing slightly as they did so. It’s in that moment that Dabi first wondered what you’d sound like underneath him while sharp hipbones bruise his name into the tender flesh of your inner thighs, how you’d slur your words together then.

His voice was a touch huskier when he spoke again. “You like Jimmy, miss?”

“I sure do,” you nodded, painted lips morphing into a little melancholic smile as you looked down at the typewriter again. “It’s a real shame he passed,”

“Sure is,” Dabi mimicked your movement, giving a simple nod in agreement. “But thank you for the compliment, doll, I’ll take it,”

Your head snapped back up. “Oh, c’mon, m’not stupid y’know,” you huffed with a roll of your eyes and a light laugh.

“No?”

The traces of amusement that played in his azure eyes had your own narrowing a little in response, sitting up straighter as you rolled your shoulders back.

“No,” you shook your head. “I know who you are,”

“Yeah? And who’s that?”

“Touya.”

And it’s the way you said his birthname, the way your lips curled into a devious little smile around the word, the way one of your perfectly arched eyebrows raised in question, in challenge, that had confirmed it for him, right then and there, in that stupidly luxurious office.  

“Touya Todoroki.”

He was sure he had to have you. He was positive he had to make you his—forever.

“You’ve been compared to Jimmy since he debuted—”

“And you know this because—”

“—because I read Time and Vogue and all those other stupid magazines, just like all the other women in this country. And I’ve seen you,” you paused to point a manicured nail at him. “On or in every single one,”

Oh, and he was sure you had, sure you knew that he was notorious for stealing several of his father’s girlfriends when he was in his early twenties, infamous for fucking them and then selling the Polaroid’s and information to vying tabloids and the like. He always did like to spice up those stories a little, to fluff them and make them a hint more scandalous, glamorous—those ones always sold for more.

Not that he needed the money.

“It’s rude to point, baby,” he winked before he straightened up, pushed himself off the wall and stalked towards your desk, stopping in front of it as large hands splayed out on the wood, and leaned close to your face.

“And I don’t go by that name anymore, sweetheart,” he had told you, voice smooth as scotch over ice, though something dangerous glinted in his eyes as they carefully searched your face, something omnious etched into the sharp smile on his face

A shiver crawled up your spine, frosty and slow, fingers tiptoeing up each vertebra as you nodded your understanding. “Y-Yes, sir,”

The door to your boss’s office had swung open then, Dabi straightening up and spreading his arms out in a grand sweeping movement.

“David!” he greeted as if the two were old friends, large smile stretched too tight across his face as he walked forward and clapped a large hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “How are you doing?”

He murdered your boss that day. You didn’t know, of course, didn’t have a goddamn clue until over a month later, Dabi had made sure of that. But by the time you found out, you were already in too deep; too enamoured by him, wholly captivated by him in every sense of the word, too dependant on him, to care at all.

He had made it quick—quiet and painless and looking as if it was an accident, strolling out of the office only a few moments later and asking you out on a date like nothing had happened, words flowing smoothly from his lips in that drawl that is so distinctly him, almost lazy in a way, glittering lidded sapphire scalding your skin with its intensity.

Yes, as much as he’d like to deny it, it’s true; Dabi fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you.

Because Dabi saw more than just a pretty little thing when your gazes first met.

He saw the perfect weapon, a diamond in the rough just waiting—begging—to be cleaned and cut and formed into the most brilliant gem, into the most ideal accomplice for him—because, really, what’s more dangerous than a beautiful woman? Especially when she looks like innocence personified?

Nothing, that’s what.

Honestly, he did you a favour—he swears he could see it in your eyes, sparkling as they gazed at him like he sculpted the moon himself, pleading for someone—for him—to come along and take care of you, to put you in your place, to keep you in line, absolutely desperate for someone to mold you, shape you, construct and arrange you into his most perfect creation.

Perfect, perfect, perfect, that’s what you are; so good for him, so obedient and compliant, always hanging on his every word and eagerly awaiting his next command, enthusiastic to submit to him, to please him, to receive the praise you crave so badly.

And Tomura had agreed, too, after only fifteen minutes of meeting you, of observing you, of assessing you, that you’d be a flawless addition to their operation.

So Dabi did what he does best.

He started slow, of course, enchanted you with strings of pearls and gorgeous dresses and expensive dinners, fed you tidbits about his mysterious lifestyle, about his family and his job and his past, just enough to keep you coming back for more, until you were practically begging him to let you in, to permit you to join his vocation, to accompany him on the wild ride that is his life.

And that was the best part of all—you didn’t care, you wanted it just as badly as he did; wanted to help him, to serve him, to be his, without ever requiring the full story. You readily gave everything up for him, accepted his orders, his wants and his needs without as much as a single question, never faltering in your honesty, in your pure devotion to your creator.

It’s love in its truest form, you’re both sure of it—possessed by one another, infatuated with one another, dedicated to one another—both consumed by the most potent drug, this love, a force to be reckoned with, the strongest pull either of you have ever felt before.

And, really, what more could you ask for?

     ✰          ✰          ✰

He took you under his wing, crafted you into a master of manipulation, pairing it perfectly with that innocent kitten demeanour you wear so well, and taught you everything he knew: all of the infiltration techniques and self-defence he had learned before he was ostracized from his father’s company—a privatized intelligence agency that works closely with the federal government—the very organization he’s been working so tirelessly to burn to the ground.

You still don’t exactly know what happened. He doesn’t like to talk about it, about where those scars decorating his body came from, about why he’s thrown away his old identity and constructed a new one, trading ivory hair and a high-fashion wardrobe for inky black and weathered Levi jeans with big black motorcycle boots.

But you do know a little.

He had been the favourite son, the chosen son, the one set to inherit the empire his father had built. That was, until he got himself into an accident—one that he still isn’t ready to disclose the full details of, and you never push. But you know it had involved a twelve year old Touya—always devious, crafty, and ever-so intelligent, even as a child—sneaking along on a mission he absolutely shouldn’t have. The silvery burns that adorn his skin, puckered and soft and shimmering like moonlight when they catch in the sun, scars tinged with the slightest hint of baby pink, are from this incident. Whatever had happened after had scarred his soul forever.

Because you’ve never encountered such intense hatred, burning bright blue flames that rage and roar inside of him, the words that are spit from between clenched teeth when he talks about his father, about his baby brother, positively scalding.

But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know the full story, that you aren’t entirely aware of why this vendetta against his family exists. It doesn’t matter that his one goal in life, his only true desire aside from you, is to take down his father. It doesn’t matter that he’s willing to do anything and use everyone to achieve his objective.

Because he is letting you in; slowly, bit by bit and piece by piece, the most fascinating and tragically beautiful jigsaw you’ve ever put together. He may never be ready to tell the full story, and that’s alright with you, because as you’ve reassured him countless times in the dead of night, you’ll always love him anyway—you’ll always be by his side.

That’s when he’s most vulnerable, it seems—in the middle of the night, at two and three and four in the morning, when he wakes trembling and whimpering and soaked with his own sweat.

He never tells you what they’re about, the nightmares. Sometimes, they’re so violent that they wake you first. He doesn’t fuck you immediately on those days, doesn’t say a word as he finds solace in your warm bosom, little fingers pushing back sweaty strands of inky hair from his temples as your other arm wraps around him, holding him close to you as his shaky breathing calms, as his muscles stop quivering. On those nights, he says nothing as he spreads your legs and climbs on top of you, railing you into the mattress like it’s his last day on this earth.

That’s how he likes to be comforted; that’s what calms him down best. It’s standard procedure at this point—not that you mind waking up to his soft sniffles and him shoving himself into your barely prepped cunt, or rousing to feel the tip of his naked cock rubbing against your clit through thin cotton undies as he tells you in that wavering voice to stay sleeping and let your Mister take what he needs. You’re there to serve him—and you do, so perfectly. You just want to help, after all. You’ve always ever just wanted to help. You never know which nights he’ll gift you another little piece of himself, of his soul, for you to try and fit in somewhere in the puzzle that is DABI. You don’t know the triggers—as far as you’re concerned, they don’t seem to exist anywhere outside of the padlocked barricade of his own head, no rhyme or reason to them, more random than anything else. But you’ll readily accept anything and everything he’s willing to give, the very instant he’s willing to give it.

     ✰          ✰          ✰

Sprawled out on the hotel bed with his white t-shirt riding up and exposing your lacy panties, you watch, in an almost trancelike state, as Dabi does his hair in preparation for the game set to begin in an hour or so. He leaves it messy and ungreased when he isn’t working, all tousled and fluffy, a sea of half formed curls that flow into each other, akin to tremulous waves hours before a storm like an inky ocean atop his head. But he cleans up well, when it comes time to get down to business.

“Every little swallow, every chickadee, every little bird in the tall oak tree,”

Standing in front of the mirror clad in a white undershirt and his suit pants, he sings along to Bobby Day’s staticky voice as it flows through the small radio set on the bathroom counter, nimble fingers dipping into a tin of greasy pomade and gathering a generous glob, a responding giggle bubbling up in your chest.

“The wise old owl, the big black crow,” he catches your eye through the mirror, a devilish smile materializing on his face as he continues, lathering his hands together. “Flap-a their wings singin’ ‘go bird go’,”

“Should’a been a singer, I’m telling ya,” you say as you roll onto your stomach, chin resting in your palms and head propped up, eyes glittering. “Could’a rivalled Elvis,”

Huffing out a laugh accompanied by a roll of his eyes, his hands begin to rake through his hair, slathering it with the substance and slicking most of it back from his face, sure to leave a few curls at the start of his hairline untouched. “So sweet you’re gonna rot my teeth, baby,”

“M’serious!” you insist, blinking at him as your eyebrows raise, watching the teeth of the black comb run through the slicked-up strands, his palm following close behind as he smooths it over; crisscross, crisscross, crisscross, fluff, pat, crisscross.

 “Uh-huh, uh-huh,” he shakes his head in disbelief, though there’s the faintest pink tinting his stubbled cheeks. “I think I’m better at this job,”

What? Playing poker with a bunch of criminals and making deals with mafiosos and murdering those who wrong you? you swallow the words, letters stinging and scraping your throat as you force them back down, schooling your face into a neutral expression. “I respectfully disagree,”

“‘Course you do,” he mumbles to himself distractedly, leaning closer to the mirror to complete the look. “Elvis, you say?”

He begins belting out lyrics in an exaggerated deep voice as he adds the finishing touch—your favourite part—slender fingers shining with residual pomade as they twirl and coat the few stray curls left neglected, allowing them to hang artfully in the middle of his forehead. 

“When I feel like this and I want to kiss youuu,” pivoting on his heel, he gazes at you with that shit-eating grin and continues. “Baby, don’t say doooon’t,”

“Oh, God, no, not Don’t!” you groan, flopping onto your back dramatically, face screwed up as if you had just tasted something sour.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he’s chuckling as he advances towards you, a small towel in his hands as he cleans them. “How ‘bout…” trailing off, he hums a little as he thinks.

“Hold my hand and promise,” he begins in a low voice, smooth and sweet like the finest melted chocolate, depositing of the towel and crawling onto the bed.

“That you’ll always love me too,”

Large hands gently pry your legs part, signature crooked smirk spreading across his face when he’s met with zero resistance, rough palms caressing silky skin as they slide up, fingers gripping and grabbing and kneading.

“Make me know you love me,”

The words taper off into a whine, beginning to sound more like begging than singing, as his body settles between your thighs, hipbones digging into the soft flesh while he hovers above you, supporting his weight on his forearms.

“The same way I love you, little girl,”

Lips trail along your jaw, leaving tender kisses in their wake—unhurried, careful, and full of purpose—as he mumbles against your skin.

“You got me at your mercy, now that I'm in love with you,”

Calloused hands begin to ruck up his t-shirt, digits dipping into the lacy waistband of your panties, his voice starting to tremble ever so slightly.

“So please don't take advantage, cause you know my love is true,”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, sapphire eyes gleaming in the golden sunlight and he pauses, blistering gaze searching your face for something, muscles relaxing and head dipping a moment later to finally press his lips against yours, whispering into the kiss. “Darling please, please love me too, I beg of you,”

And despite all the glitz and glamour, all the extravagance and exhilaration, that comes with each mission, this will always be your favourite part—when it’s only you and him, lounging around in some luxurious five star hotel or some dingy roadside motel, exchanging lazy, messy kisses full of stringy shining saliva, goofing around and whispering stupid Elvis lyrics to each other, words that hold more weight than either of you care to admit.

     ✰          ✰          ✰

It was supposed to be a fairly simple operation—minimal violence, Tomura had instructed. No guns or casualties, if it can be avoided, if Dabi can keep his temper in check. It was supposed to be easy, straightforward, safe.

It was supposed to be. But Dabi gets bored easily, likes a little spike of adrenaline with his missions, rolling his broad shoulders and cracking his neck as he joins the rest of the men around the poker table, a sly smirk on his face as they name the bets and the prizes.

“And my little doll,”

It’s hard to resist rolling your eyes as those four words slip from between his lips, slow and smooth in that deep, lazy drawl, trademark smirk painted across his lips as his lidded eyes scan the faces sitting around the table, an eyebrow raised, daring any of them to protest. Several hungry eyes dart towards you for a moment, standing like the reward you are a few feet behind Dabi and leaning on a railing, a shy little smile briefly gracing your lips in greeting, elegant evening gown shimmering under the crystal lights.

This isn’t new—Dabi usually bets you when he plays. Keeps him sharp, he claims. Keeps him on his toes, keeps it fun when there’s something important at stake, something valuable to lose, he says. He plays better that way, he promises.

Except he’s always craved that thrill of danger, has always liked to push further and further simply to see how far he can go before he topples over the edge. It’s a rush, a blast, a high akin to the morphine that so often flows through his veins, and he fucking lives for it.

It’s been over an hour now, since those words were murmured in that velvet voice, floating across the table and cloaking the thoughts of the other men like a lethal haze, most of whom can’t seem to keep their eyes from wandering back to you every so often, leering gazes coating your skin with grime you itch to scrub off.

But that’s the point—or it’s supposed to be, anyway. That’s the whole reason you’re here in the first place. To act as a distraction, Tomura’s words drift through your mind, just whisps of his voice that tickle the walls of your skull.

And what a perfect distraction you are, in a Dior dress that looks like it was made only for you, tapered perfectly to every curve and edge of your body, silk flowing gracefully with every miniscule movement, with every rise and fall of your chest.

But it bores you to tears, this poker game, eyes dry and sticky, sick of staring at the back of your boyfriend’s immaculate, intricate hair as his nimble fingers play with the mountain of chips accumulating in front of him, plastic clacking together as he shuffles through them.

You had begged him to let you go shopping—just for the first half of the game, you swear!—but he refused. I need my good luck charm there with me the entire time, babydoll, he told you, brushing calloused fingers down your cheek then tracing along the line of your jaw, gazing at you with brilliant sapphire that glitters in the late afternoon sun, streaming in through the hotel’s floor-length windows. We can go shopping after the game is finished, he promised.

You regarded him with skepticism.

“And dancing?”

“Of course,” he responded with a playful scoff. “We can dance until our feet are bleeding, pinky promise,”

Keigo comes to join you just before the game passes the two-hour mark, large hands finding purchase on your hips and pulling you back against his chest as his head dips down, soft full lips against your skin.

“Lovely dress you’ve got on,” he murmurs, breath hot against your ear, tickling the shell. “You look stunning—breathtaking—I mean, gosh, look at me, I can barely breathe,” he gasps dramatically, chest heaving against your back as he does so, chuckling when you roll your eyes and giggle at him to shut up, Kei, the vibrations from his laugh a comforting sensation, a familiar sensation, a welcomed sensation, sending warmth spreading through your body. “I’m so happy you’re here,” you whine, leaning further into him and head tilting against his collarbone to gaze up at him. “I’m so bored,”

“Yeah, I bet,” he says, something unusual—unreadable—settling in his topaz eyes as he glances up at the table. “You aren’t used to games lasting this long, are you, baby,”

A little pout settles on your lips and you nod, playing right into his condescending cooing as you snuggle into him, eyes following his stare. Truthfully, you haven’t a clue what’s going on, and, really, you couldn’t care less. You aren’t entirely sure what the significance of this poker game is, or who most of these men are, and you aren’t allowed to. Just sit pretty and perfect like you always do; it’s the thing you do best.

Except tonight—tonight something is different, unsettling, off. It’s no big deal, though, of course—you can almost hear that deep, dark voice drawling the words out in your mind, phantom breath tickling your skin.

Because Dabi’s always been startlingly good at what he does. Because Dabi’s always been able to worm his way out of a difficult situation. Because there’s never really been a reason to worry about it before, anyway. But tonight—well, tonight you’re watching as his Balenciaga clad shoulders are getting tenser, and tenser, as his jaw is clenching tighter, and tighter, as his grip on that singular sparkly chip resting in his palm is becoming stronger, and stronger, thin skin stretching painfully over sharp bony knuckles.

Keigo’s breath is bated, his fingers digging into your hips as he observes the game unfolding in front of the both of you, pulling you closer to him, hushed curses falling from his lips every so often. And Keigo knows what’s happening, of course, but he refuses to tell you, promising you that you wouldn’t understand even if he tried to explain it. Creases form on your forehead as your eyebrows knit, eyes drifting back to the table. Whatever it is, it’s clear that it isn’t good, Keigo’s body tensing against yours as he sucks in a breath and holds it for a moment before blowing it out from his mouth, exasperated.   “Well, I’m positive it’s fine,” you say, trying to wave it off lightly, to whisk away the acrimonious dread that roots deep in the pit of your stomach and begins to spread, thick and dense as it slithers into your surrounding organs, to brush off the impending sense of foreboding that seems to lurk over you, getting heavier and heavier, darker and darker with each second that ticks by—though your voice sounds high to your ears, tinny and false. “Dabi’s never lost a game before, that’s why they send him to these things,” But Keigo doesn’t sound so sure, responding with a nervous breath of a laugh, lithe fingers flexing on your hips, rubbing little lopsided circles into the flesh. “First time for everything, songbird,”

The words send ice piercing through your veins, but you persevere, rolling your shoulders and standing up a little straighter, swallowing past the painful lump that’s lodged itself in your throat. It’s fine. It’s always fine. He’s always found a way to get out of messy, tight situations before. Why should tonight be any different?

It won’t be, it isn’t—you can already see Dabi collapsing on the cream sofa upstairs in your luxurious hotel room, tugging at his bowtie with a sigh as his head falls back, nimble fingers popping the first few buttons on his crisp white dress shirt, and had you scared for a moment there, didn’t I, kitten?

And you’ll playfully slap his shoulder as you crawl into his lap, roll your eyes as you straddle his hips and allow him to tilt the champagne flute to your lips, laugh it off as his hands begin to wander, rucking up your dress and kneading your ass, cock tenting his expensive trousers. Like always. You’re sure of it

It’s just past the three-hour mark when Keigo speaks again, all traces of teasing, of that easygoing lilt that is so distinctly him, gone from his voice. Golden locks stand in all directions, his hair having fallen out of its usual ducktail style, a curtesy of fingers raking through it nervously. His smile is tight as he looks down at you, front teeth nibbling at his cuticles as he speaks, muffled a little by his fingers. “Maybe we should get you out of here, sweetheart—”

“No,” you respond instantly with a firm shake of your head. “I’m not going anywhere,”

“Sunshine, listen—”

“I said, no, Kei,” you pull back a little to look at him, resolution sown into your voice, chest puffing out just a touch. “I won’t leave him,”

Honey eyes hold yours for a moment, and you can almost hear Keigo’s molars as they grind together. He exhales a deep sigh a moment later, shaking his head and tugging his fingers through golden strands again. “Alright, alright,” It finally comes to an end, a few minutes past the four-hour mark. Heavy lids start to lift as commotion begins to stir—soft murmurs among the men and chairs scraping against the floor, plastic chips clacking together and the sharp whisp that travels through the air as cards are shuffled—whining a little as you lean further into Keigo, who is now supporting most of your weight.

“Kei, feet hurt,”

“Shh, I know, songbird,” he hushes you, a large palm stroking your head. “But I need you to wake up, sweetheart,”

Rough, unfamiliar hands are wrapping around your arms only a moment later, yanking you from the warm sanctuary that is Keigo and hauling you against stiff muscle.

“I believe you’re mine now, darling,”

The words are gravelly, uttered in a low voice against the crown of your head. A vicious shiver crawls along your skin, whole body trembling with the force of it, as your lids snap open.

“Wait, what?” frantic eyes search the gaudy room for familiar cobalt, breath beginning to accelerate as you struggle a little in the grasp of a burly man with one eye. His grip tightens in retaliation and a pained yelp hitches in your throat, Dabi’s eye twitching at the sound. “Dabi? D-Dabi!”

Sapphire blazes into your skull, steadily holding your watery gaze as his jaw clenches, swallowing thickly at the sound of your pitiful little whimpers of his name, at the way you squirm and wiggle in your abductor's grasp, desperate to escape, to get back to him.

“H-Hold on, now,” Keigo begins, holding his hands up in surrender, a motion meant to signify peace, to signify that he isn’t a threat—even though you know he’s got the cold metal of his favourite pistol tucked into the waistband of his trousers and pressed against his warm skin. “Let’s talk this through, yeah? Just wait a minute—”

“Nope,” the man cuts Keigo off mid-sentence with a loud, harsh laugh, and you wince at the sound. “No way, a deal’s a deal, friend. I won her fair and square—she’s mine,”

A light chuckle, laced with irritation and dubiety, escapes Keigo’s lips as he shakes his head a little. “Come on, Dabi jokes around like that all the time,” and while his voice seems amicable on the surface, its ridden with cold undertones, phantom threats that are felt, not said. “And this little lady—as pretty as she is—is a person, not a prize. Taking her against her will is, in fact, kidnapping, and I’ll be forced to—”

“Let him go,”

“What?” the word falls from your lips and Keigo’s simultaneously—one incredulous and pitched high with distress, the other breathed out in disbelief, both equally as concerned—gazes snapping to Dabi, who sits quiet and brooding, dim lights casting shadows on the sharp planes of his face.

Azure drifts between your faces, features ridden with terror and alarm—furrowed brows and deep frowns tugging at the corners of lips, one pair of eyes wide with scepticism, the other pair glistening with tears. Dabi’s silent for another moment before he pushes on his knees and stands, squaring his shoulders and clearing his throat, voice ringing out loud and clear, dripping with admonition. “Let him go. He’s right; he won her, fair and square,”

He speaks slowly, annunciating each word with careful precision, sapphire glinting in the dim light has he holds the muscular man’s gaze. It holds something threatening, something menacing, something terrifying deep within the depths of his eyes, and you feel your captor pause for a second, tense, and then shiver.

“Uh, r-right,” he says, voice wavering a little as he nods to himself. “Fair and square,”

Dabi stalks towards you, shiny oxfords echoing against the pristine, freshly waxed marble floor, tutting his tongue and shaking his head, casual and relaxed as ever.

“Don’t struggle, you hear me?” he says, voice softer, gentler, as a calloused thumb swipes across your cheekbone, catching a stray tear. “Be a good girl for him,”

And I’ll see you soon.

The promise doesn’t need to be vocalized—you can see it, shining bright and true in his sapphire eyes, can sense it, in the air surrounding him, can feel it, at the very core of your soul.

A sudden sense of relief floods your body, pathetic little sobs getting caught in your chest as you exhale shakily and deflate in the burly man’s arms, tears finally spilling over your lashline and streaming down your cheeks.

“Okay,” you breathe.

Dabi gives you a simple nod, lips quirking up into a ghost of his signature lopsided smirk. Okay.

And just like that, all of the fear and trepidation and panic vanishes from your body, a serene calm chased by a sense of giddiness replacing it, scorching through your veins.

Because before the door to the man’s hotel room has even swung fully shut, Dabi’s barreling through, crystal handle smashing against the wall and cracking as skilled fingers tangle in short hair, yanking the man’s head back with a sickening crack and dragging the razor-sharp edge of his favourite switchblade across the man’s exposed throat.

He moves like a flash of light, a spark igniting a fire, so fast he’s merely a blur of black and navy and blazing sapphire. Thick crimson begins pouring from the wound immediately, a large splice spanning from one earlobe all the way to the other.

The man hits the shiny hardwood floor with a distinct thump, but you aren’t paying attention to him or the way he’s writhing as he tries to claw at his neck, coughing and gagging as he begins to choke on his own blood.

No, you’re captivated by sapphire, bright and burning as it surges towards you, calloused hands seizing your face roughly as chapped lips find yours, unforgiving and ferocious, bloody knife still in one hand, cool metal pressed against your cheek, smearing streaks of scarlet across your skin as you try to get closer to him, to get more, the stench of copper stinging your nose.

It’s eradicated in an instant though, Dabi’s heady scent—campfire and hickory wood and expensive cologne—filling your lungs, your mind, your entire being as it curls around you in the most intoxicating embrace, familiar and comforting and him, him, him. Stumbling backwards, you just about trip over your own feet as Dabi shoves forward, strong hands wrapped around your biceps keeping you steady. The sharp edge of the small rosewood dining table digs into your lower back, Dabi swallowing your resounding yelp as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs, large hands finding your waist and squeezing before he hoists you onto its surface, using his hipbones to force your thighs open.

You nearly topple over from the power, from the urgency, hands flying out behind you and grappling against the table’s surface to keep you sitting upright as he heaves and pushes and leans against you, motions knocking sparkling crystal glasses and fine porcelain plates off the top.

The sound of shattering glass and cracking china mingles with the gurgling and garbling of the man who lay a few feet away on the floor, suffocating on his own blood. It creates such a beautiful symphony, intertwined with Dabi’s ragged breaths and your broken moans, with the ruffling of clothing and the screech of the table legs against the gleaming hardwood floor. And it’s desperate, and needy, and messy, teeth clashing and clacking together violently, saliva dripping down chins as tongues rub and glide and lick, hands pawing and gripping and tugging and ripping, the delicate material of your silk Dior dress practically turning to ash as his fingers materialize through it, tearing it to shreds.

“Off, off, off, I need this off,” he’s growling against your lips as his hands work, a low whine getting caught in your throat as you nod frenetically.

Yes, yes, yes, you’re whimpering, your own little fingers helping him destroy the silvery fabric, eager and anxious to rid your body of the bothersome garment.

A guttural groan, deep and dark and inducing a fluttering in your tummy rumbles in his chest as his eyes roam over your body, clad in the daintiest white lace.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, y’know that,” he’s mumbling between sharp bites to the flesh of your neck, fingers snapping the clasp of your bra, breaking it in one simple motion. “A fuckin’ angel, that’s what you are, baby. My very own angel,”

Rough palms slide down your torso, slow and purposeful as they trace, feel, knead the dips and curves, planes and contours of your body, slender fingers pausing to play with the elastic of the garter belt adorning your waist, holding up your lace-trimmed thigh-highs which have begun to tear, then hooking in the waistband of your thong.

His cock grinds against your inner thigh, hot and hard and throbbing as it strains against his trousers, digits toying with the lacy elastic, twirling it between his fingers before he lets it snap back against your skin, the harsh slap! echoing throughout the hotel room. 

“Oh, Mister, I want it,” the plead falls from your lips in a shameless moan, high and whiny as your hips press forward in an attempt to grind against him. Slender fingers untangle themselves from the lacy fabric in an instant, gripping your hips to still them, fingertips digging into your flesh. “I need it,”

“Need what, dollface?” his lips brush against your skin as he speaks, teeth sinking into your collarbone a moment later, hard enough to break the skin, a loud cry getting caught in your chest. He sucks on the wound, hard, tongue laving over it in soothing little circles, slowly dragging over the bite.

And it’s a compulsion, a sickness, a fucking disease surging through your veins, infecting your mind with thoughts of him and only him, entire body buzzing with the desperate, pathetic, urgent need for him, for his cock, for his cum.

“Need you, need you,” you’re whimpering out, squirming and struggling a little in his grasp, a warning hiss spit through his teeth as blunt nails nip your skin. “Please, Dabi, please, lemme have it,”

“Have what, baby?” lips curling up into a coy smirk, he pulls back just enough to look at you, finally pushing his hips into yours, a patronizing laugh spilling from his throat as you instantly grind against his cock, impatient and impetuous. “Use your words, Mister wants to hear you say it,”

Scalding heat seeps into your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, a broken whine of complaint sounding in the back of your throat as you shake your head. “Y-You know,” you mumble. “You know,”

“Oh, come on, baby,” he tuts with a disappointed shake of his head, voice overflowing with condescension. “You act like such a little slut, but as soon as I want you to say what you apparently need oh-so-badly, you can’t? You get all shy and bashful like you’re innocent, or something?”

An arrogant chuckle bubbles up in his chest, a rough palm colliding with the flesh of your ass a moment later. Scarred lips graze your ear as he leans back in, speaking low and smooth, words leaving his mouth in a huff of warm, sweet breath. “You’re being bad, y’know that?”

The huskiness in his tone sends chills pebbling across your skin, a delicate shiver dancing up your spine.

“Please,” you whisper, bottom lip beginning to tremble. “Please, Mister, please,”

“Tell me,” he rasps, taking the lobe of your ear between his teeth and sucking, bruising his name into the sensitive skin. “I know you can do it, doll. What is it that you want? Tell me,”

And, God, it’s so embarrassing, vision blurring with the sting of tears, entire body beginning to tremble from the combined humiliation and lust surging through your veins, his clothed cock still rutting against your core, poking and prodding and so close, you’re so close, two tiny words, just say them. “Your—Your cock,” you almost yelp, blinking back the tears in your eyes as you try to gaze levelly at him, teeth digging into your bottom lip to quell its pathetic quivering. “W-Want your cock, please, Mister, I-I need it,”

“Yeah?” he breathes while he rests his forehead against yours, butting forward a little as his glazed eyes rapidly search your face, pupils blown to hell and lips bitten red, shining with spit. “Where, huh? Down here?”

A finger tugs the flimsy soaked lace to the side, another dark chuckle slipping from his lips as he drags a knuckle up your dripping slit.

“Here?” it presses into your cute little hole, your hips eagerly bucking forward in response.

“Yes, yes, there, Mister, there, please,” you keen, head nodding in almost frantic movements, skull knocking against his. “Please, n-no fingers, want your cock, need your cock, stretch me out, fill me up, I need it,”

And it’s your senseless babbling that does it, bratty and needy and incessant in high broken whines, that snaps the final thread of patience holding him back, and a growl rips from his chest, so violent it vibrates through your own.

The heavy buckle of his belt clinks as hasty fingers fiddle with it, shoving his trousers down his thighs just enough to free his cock.

You can’t help the mortifying moan that escapes your throat the moment you see it, velvety and pink and oh-so-pretty, flushed tip glistening with precum and two thick veins snaking around the shaft like vines.

“Christ,” he groans as he pushes into your cunt, burying himself inside of you in one swift thrust, your nails biting into the hard muscles of his shoulder through the thin material of his shirt as your hole stretches around him, both of you exhaling simultaneous sighs of relief.

It burns and it stings and God, you need more, eyes rolling back in your skull as the sharp heels of your stilettos dig into his lower back, little fingers tangling in white cotton as you try to pull him closer, closer, closer.

“Greedy little brat,” he snarls out as his hips begin snapping, the movement sudden, unexpected, welcomed, a choked cry of his name catching in your throat.

And it’s brutal and relentless, primal and desperate, lacking most of his usual finesse as he pounds into you, cockhead slamming against your cervix with every harsh thrust of his hips, hard enough to move the entire table itself, legs scraping against the floor a little more with each pump.

Inky curls cling to his forehead and temples, the white cotton of his dress shirt becoming translucent as it sticks to his damp skin, highlighting the hard planes of defined muscle that flex with each ragged inhale.

Surging forward, his tongue runs along the inside of your teeth before it drags against yours, slow and heavy, depositing his taste and staining it with the flavour of him, fiery cinnamon gum and smoky Marlboros. Gorgeous, needy little whines break in his throat in time with each strong piston of his hips, muffled by your mouth, and you greedily swallow whatever he’ll afford you.

It’s total sensory overload—he’s all you can see, all you can hear, all you can taste, touch, breathe, hijacking all of your receptors and overwhelming you with him.

It’s building inside of you, deep in the pit of your stomach, scorching flames that glow as blue as his eyes as they rage, climbing higher and higher, licking at your insides and expanding further and further until they finally engulf you, consume you, with their blaze, and everything shatters, body convulsing almost violently around his cock as you cum with a strained cry of his name.

“Fill me, Mister,” you’re babbling, begging, swearing you’ll die if he doesn’t, the flames will burn you to ash if you don’t get his cum soon, voice absolutely wrecked. “Fill me, fill me,”

And he obeys, filling your cute little cunt to the brim with thick, hot cum as his cock pulses, a cracked whimper of f-fuck, slipping past his lips.

His chest heaves as he collapses against you, the two of you falling back against the table’s surface with a thump, his cock still buried inside of you. A soft whine sounds in the back of your throat as you carefully unlock your legs from around him, wincing a little at the stiffness in your thighs.

I love you.

The three words are murmured into your shoulder, so soft you barely hear them, so quiet you’re sure you’d have imagined them had you not felt his lips move against your flesh, not felt his hot breath on your skin, not felt the gentle vibrations in his chest as he spoke.

“I love you,” you respond, voice tender as tiny fingers comb through his dishevelled hair. “I love you,”

He’s silent for a moment, your combined pants the only sounds ringing out among the hotel room, and then he nods—once at first; just a quick, sharp motion, and then again a moment later, with more vigour, more purpose, more acceptance.

Little hands smooth down the damp cotton hugging his back and your head lolls to the side, cheek pressed against the cool wood of the table. A certain type of giddiness—a type that’s sick, that’s twisted, that’s stuffed full of love—floods your body as your eyes connect with those of a dead man, laying in a pool sticky crimson, and God, yes, you love him, you love him, you love him—more than anyone else ever could, more than you could ever love anything else.  

[rafescoke]

Crime ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Part #1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader would do anything for the boy she loves from a summer ago.

Warnings: Story takes place at the start of season 2 (and some flashbacks from season 1), swearing, angst, death penalty, gaslighting, reader just needing help

A/N: i don’t think this is my best work at all :( but i’ll post the part 2 straight away!! didn’t know tumblr has a word limit now wtf

p.s; tell me what do you think of this fic!!

(Y/N) had begged for somewhere else to spend the Summer. She couldn’t go back to that place, not when there were too many memories that awaited her. No one seemed to listen to her, and her father continued to check something online.

“Rafe Cameron.”

“(Y/N),” she had smiled, and she thought about how gorgeous a boy could be. This man before her; with his hair messily parted and that goddamn blue eyes had her holding her breath, and she wasn’t in her usual demeanour.

“You come down here often?” Rafe asked, raising his eyebrows. (Y/N) watched as he chugged on his beer, and gave her another sly smile again.

“Um, not really. This is my first summer here.”

“That’s nice,” he shrugged, “Welcome to Obx.”

“Thanks,” she nodded, liking how Obx already is. She made a mental note to tell her friends back home about this island, and most importantly; Rafe Cameron.

“Do you wanna take a walk?”

(Y/N) never really accepted any boy’s invitation for a walk, because all the boys in the city never had good intentions with her. She never dated anyone, never bothered to do so.

“Sure,” she smiled, and walked alongside the dirty-blonde boy to the far end of the beach. He sucked in a breath, glancing at her from the corners of his eyes, and laughed.

“You look nervous.”

“You could be a mass murderer.”

“Isn’t that just the perfect person to spend the summer with?”

(Y/N) looked up at him, the moonlight from the sky illuminating his features. God, he really is beautiful. “I guess.”

“So would that be a problem if I killed someone before?”

(Y/N) laughed easily at the joke, bumping her arms against his. She felt a jolt from the touch, and swallowed her saliva. “No.”

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah. That’s more like it.”

(Y/N) had thought of that moment as nothing but a joke. A playful joke, meaning to flirt with her. The next few weeks were spent with only them two, sometimes in his house or (Y/N)’s stay. They were inseparable; always attached by the hips morning and night, and (Y/N) knew about all of his problems.

“Try it.”

“What? Coke?” She asked, bewildered. She looked down to the table, her hands fidgeting, and she quickly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked up to Rafe again, “I don’t know how.”

“Come on, I’ll show you,” he smiled, pulling her by her wrist and seated her beside him. She felt the jolt again, but she had gotten better at ignoring it.

Rafe lowered his hand, a finger placed on his left nostril, and snorted the line of white powder. He grunted, throwing his head back, and after a few seconds, he gave her a smirk.

“Your turn.”

(Y/N) smiled back, reaching for the rolled up bill before lowering his head to the last line. She took a deep breath, still so shaky, and snorted the powder before she could change her mind.

Her heartbeat quickened, and her mind was all over the place. She could feel her forehead getting clammy, and before she could do anything, Rafe cupped her face in his large hands.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he expressed, looking straight into her eyes. (Y/N) didn’t realise she was starting to cry, and stared back into his eyes.

“You’re so pretty,” he said suddenly, rubbing comforting circles on her temples. (Y/N) relaxed under his touch, “Such a pretty girl.”

“I thought you’re friends with that Cameron boy,” her father suddenly said, shaking her out of her memories. (Y/N) closed her eyes, trying to push away the thoughts, and gave her father a grimace.

“So? I don’t want to see him.”

“What happened between you two? You used to ask me to move to Obx,” her father laughed, still clicking on the mouse to the laptop.

“People change, dad,” she muttered, and made her way back to her bedroom to be alone with her thoughts.

“Rafe! You don’t have to do this,” (Y/N) gasped, her hands around her mouth. She looked around the gazebo by the lake, her eyes brightening against the beautiful fairy lights and veins decorating the railings.

“It’s your last week here,” he shrugged, helping her to her seat before sitting for himself. He pointed to the food displayed before then, “Steak. Your favourite.”

“You are amazing,” she expressed, her eyes suddenly glassy. The lake never looked so calming, and (Y/N) wished she could capture this exact moment in her head.

“Just thought you should see the other side of Rafe Cameron,” he shrugged, his lips forming into a smile. “I’m glad you came down here to Obx.”

“Me too,” she breathed, and went for the food. “I’m so glad to have met you.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, cutting his steak into small pieces before biting into one. “Didn’t you called me a mass murderer the first time we met?”

“It was a joke,” she rolled her eyes, “But I’ll still like you even if you are.”

She didn’t know the truth behind her words.

“You will?” He looked up to her, grinning. “And just like?”

“Just like. What are you playing at, Rafe?” She faked groan, putting her cutleries down and clasping her hand together. “What? You’re going to propose to me or something?”

Everything happened so fast; Rafe chuckled, awkwardly running his fingers through his fair, messing with his slicked back hair. She liked this messy hair better, but she liked anything about Rafe Cameron, messy hair or not.

“No.”

Rafe held out the tiny velvet box in his hands, and (Y/N) never saw a prettier smile than his.

“No,” she repeated, her breathing heavy. She was too shocked by this, only meaning the proposal part of her speech as a joke, and looked into his sincere eyes again.

“I’m not proposing to you,” he laughed, getting down to one knee and opening the box to a beautiful diamond ring. (Y/N) sucked in a breath, mesmerised. “I will though, in the future.”

“Oh my god, Rafe, I can’t accept this,” she gasped, watching as the diamond glinted under the bright light. “You’re too much.”

“It’s a promise ring,” he smiled, “And a proposal to ask you to become my girlfriend.”

He sucked in a breath, and (Y/N) swore her heart stopped. She never thought of herself worthy as these kind of moments, but here she was; all teary eyed, her hand against her heart to calm her crazy heartbeat.

“Will you be my girlfriend, (Y/N)?”

She laughed, wiping the tears that had rolled down to her cheeks, and cupped his face into her hands. “You’re so fucking dumb. Of course I will, asshole, without this whole dinner thing. You could ask me while we’re in the swimming pool and I’ll say yes.”

Rafe laughed, melting into her hands, before taking out the ring he had saved up for (by not buying anymore coke) and asking for her permission to slide it over her ring finger.

(Y/N) nodded, holding her breath, and the diamond ring slid to her finger, and she gasped at how pretty it looked. She wondered about how much it had cost Rafe to buy the ring for her, but pushed the thought away when Rafe tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“We haven’t even kissed yet.”

(Y/N) laughed, “I told you you’re too fast, Rafe.”

Rafe smiled, inching closer to her, and (Y/N) just instantly stopped thinking. He was so beautiful, so angelic, and she wished she could stay at Obx forever.

“I love you, (Y/L/N).”

“Rafe,” she expressed, placing her forehead against his, “I love you too, okay?”

(Y/N) groaned, deepening her face against the soft pillow. She felt like screaming, but she didn’t have the energy to do so.

She would do anything for Rafe, and the next few days after that proposal went too fast that she felt like God was being unfair to her. He made her feel so good, and no one had made her feel the way he made her feel.

She felt like she was in heaven.

Until that one, certain Friday; the day before she went back to New York.

“Rafe, please,” she cried, pulling him by shirt as he pointed the gun at the sheriff, his eyes flaring up in anger. “Rafe, it doesn’t have to be this way.”

She looked at Ward, who looked afraid as well, and sucked in a breath. “You told me-”

“Shut up!” He grunted, his own fingers trembling on the trigger. “Fuck! Shut up.”

She didn’t know what to do. Sarah was looking at her for help, but she had tried her best to console him. She tried to reach for him again, to which he quickly pushed her away.

“Do that again, and I’ll kill you next.”

“Rafe-”

“Shut up!” He yelled again, and before she could do anything the pulled on the trigger, and the sheriff fell to the ground with widened eyes.

“Hey.”

(Y/N) jolted from her position at the knock, and groaned when her mother came in. She scooted away, giving her some space on the bed, and laid with her face planted against the pillow again.

“You never told us about what happened with you and Rafe,” she sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Okay, so why don’t you want to go to Obx for the summer?”

“I want new boyfriends.”

Her mother laughed, “Okay. Then find new boyfriends in Obx. The blonde boy who helped us carry our bags the first time we arrived there can be one.”

“JJ?”

“He’s always around the island too, helping people for money,” she shrugged, “That’s a good kid. Doing honest work for honest money.”

“I’m not actually looking for a boyfriend, mom,” she rolled her eyes. “It was a figure of speech.”

“Well,” she stood up, “You better be looking for one. We’re spending the summer in Obx, and that’s final.”

. . .

(Y/N) rubbed her eyes against the glowing sunlight of North Carolina, her body screaming with pain from hours of sitting in the same position. She heard the pilot said something, her mind still woozy from only being caffeinated, and placed her head against the seat again.

“It’s a bright day, like it’s waiting for us,” her mother exclaimed, fixing her sunglasses before walking down the stairs to the road. (Y/N) groaned, still so tired, and she wished for nothing but to stay in her room with Netflix to watch.

“Hey, Mr (Y/L/N),” JJ smiled, and (Y/N) noticed the fake exterior he was trying to portray. “Come down here for another summer again?”

Her mother, who admired JJ’s ‘honest work’ gushed out to beside him, asking about his school and his works. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, not interested in making any new conversation, and she looked back at the area where the incident took place.

JJ caught her looking, and when her parents and the little brother had entered the car, he went to her to help her with her bags.

He crouched down, wrapping his fingers around the handle, and quickly whispered. “You saw, right?”

“Huh?”

“What Rafe did.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, and went into the car before he could say anything else.

God. Just how she expected her first moments after arriving in Obx.

“Hey! Welcome back!”

“You called the Camerons?” She groaned, looking at her father for some kind of useless explanation. After the brief conversation with JJ, she wanted nothing that could remind her of Rafe and hoped she could stay in her room for the whole 2 months.

“(Y/N), wait-”

She barged into her room for 2 months, noticing the old posters she had put up the year before, and thought about how happy she was at that time. She felt nothing now, and she couldn’t wait until the end of summer.

“Fuck!” She yelled, her head feeling so light, and placed herself before the naked bed. She sighed, trying to calm herself down, and thought of the ways to ignore the certain boy a few miles away.

Maybe he’s in college.

Maybe he’s going to leave her alone.

Maybe he has found someone new.

She felt a tug at the thought of the last sentence, and she couldn’t explain why she would even be devastated over him finding a new girl. That’s good, she guessed, at least she doesn’t have to think about staying away from him again.

Maybe she should spend her time with the pogues; JJ’s friends. They looked fun to hang with.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

“I’m not in the mood,” she grunted, shielding her eyes from the sunlight. “What do you want?”

“Can we go to the beach?”

“The beach?” She huffed, “We just arrived. Shouldn’t you clean your room or something?”

“Okay. But can you bring me to the beach after I’m done?”

“I’ll think about it,” she expressed, but after a few hours of sweeping and mopping the dusty room, placing the new bedsheet over the mattress and taking down her old posters, all she wanted to do was get out for some fresh air. She had slept most of her time in the plane so she wasn’t feeling like taking a nap at all, and she guessed it would be appropriate to bring her little brother to the beach.

She walked to her room, her hands around her waist. “Hey, you’re- where the fuck did you get that?”

“What?” He asked, raising the frame with his sister’s arms around Rafe, smiling happily at the camera. “This? Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

“Throw that away!” she yelled, “I said throw that away!”

“Okay, okay,” he groaned, throwing the frame into the big plastic bag before dusting the dust off of him. “Can we go to the beach now?”

“You’re an asshole, do you know that?” She huffed, watching as he changed into his swimming shorts, “And we’ve been cleaning for 3 hours. You’re not half done yet.”

“Whatever,” he said, and closed the door. “Just wait for me downstairs.”

The ride to the beach didn’t take long, and (Y/N) actually felt peaceful riding the bicycle and letting the breeze hit her square on the face. She had laughed at a stupid joke by her little brother, and she thought about how she could do this for the next 2 months.

“I wanna learn how to surf,” he said, letting the water soaked his feet and dumped his feet into the sand. “Do you?”

“You’ll forget how to when we’re back in New York,” she mumbled, gazing at the sky, “Also your body’s too weak to fight the waves.”

“No, it’s not,” he argued, “What are you going to do for the summer, (Y/N)? Are you going to be with that-”

“No,” she quickly said, curling her toes at the feeling of the water soaking her feet. “I’m not going to be with anyone.”

“Isn’t that your friend?”

“Ha-ha, nice joke,” she laughed falsely, still closing her eyes against the bright sky. “Who’s the friend? Is it Rafe?”

“Hey.”

(Y/N) sat up straight, her heart beating wildly, and what greeted her sight sent shivers down to her spine, and she quickly clutched onto her little brother’s wrist before pulling him away.

“Ow! What are you doing? (Y/N), let me go!” Lucas groaned, looking back at the boy who wanted nothing but to talk to his sister. “Rafe, help!”

“Shut up, you bitch,” she groaned, still pulling on his wrist. She knew about the possibility of leaving a claw mark on his skin, but she wanted nothing to do with the boy.

“Help me, Rafe! She’s going to kill me!”

“I said shut up!” She yelled, her chest heaving now, and she didn’t care about her hair that was hanging loosely from her hairclaw.

She didn’t know if Rafe was chasing after her, and she didn’t dare to look back.

“Ride your bike home,” she fumbled with the handle, “Now. Please, now!”

“Okay,” Lucas groaned, “What’s wrong with you? It’s just Rafe.”

“Go!” She yelled, already set to cycle back home, with her clothes all wet and sticking against her skin. She couldn’t breathe, and she hated the sight of him. She cycled back home hurriedly, tears streaming down her face, and she wished she had stayed home.

The night after the day on the beach she didn’t bother to come down for dinner, only staying in her room and browsing through Netflix. She didn’t feel like doing anything, and she hated how quick her mood was ruined.

She didn’t think about seeing him that quickly, especially after just arriving on the island that morning. This was exactly the problem; she couldn’t face him, not after what he did, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn him to the authorities. She was pushing him away, but at the same time protecting him.

The next morning, she felt shittier than ever. Being in the small island, where everywhere she goes could remind her back to Rafe, she decided to stay in bed and browse through more movies, only going downstairs for a glass of water before going back to her room. She was glad Lucas and her parents were enjoying most of their time here in Obx, and she would do the same if it weren’t for what happened last year.

She was scared. She was mad at herself too, because she couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone about what she saw. As much as she hated him now, a part of her still loved him.

“(Y/N)! Wait!”

“Get the fuck away from me!” She yelled, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. “You’re a fucking psycho.”

“No, no, baby, please-”

“Don’t call me baby, I swear to fucking god!” She yelled again, getting into the car and watched as Rafe desperately banged against the car window, pleading for her to hear him.

“It’s not what you think-”

(Y/N) cried, her head painful, and slowly slid the diamond ring from her finger before lowering the window by a slit and throwing it outside. Rafe watched the ring roll away but didn’t care to fetch it, only trying to speak to her through the tiny slit.

“I had to do it, please,” he begged, “Please. Baby. I can’t do this-”

“Go to hell,” she hissed, and sped away.

That was the last time she had ever seen Rafe, and she knew he tried to contact her with different phone numbers every day, but she had blocked every single number. The trouble stopped after a while, and (Y/N) realised how much she had been missing him.

Who could she confront about this?

Who could she tell?

She couldn’t. She loved him too much.

A week after settling in their summer home, (Y/N) was tired of all the screaming and nudging by her mother for her to get out of the house, and ‘get a life’. She didn’t feel like having a whole summer of just hanging out at the beach, not when the last time she had went there and bumped onto Rafe, so she decided to keep her distance off Figure 8 and made her way to the other side of the island.

She had only been there twice with Rafe before, to pick up something at Barry’s (he told her not to worry about it), so she never really quite get used to the road around here.

She stopped the jeep by the side of the road, glancing at the signboard and the road behind her. Did she go too far? Or was this just the wrong way?

She rested her back against the car door, already tired, and decided to just wait until she was good enough to drive home.

It was half an hour later when she heard the roaring of a motorcycle, and she quickly got to her feet, her chest suddenly heaving.

“Yo? You’re okay?”

“Huh?” She fixed her hair, “Um- yeah. Just resting.”

JJ nodded, “You should turn off your engine. You don’t want to-”

Just right on cue, the engine stopped completely and (Y/N) groaned, getting into the car to turn the engine again. It made some noise, until silence fell between them.

“That’s what I’m saying,” JJ said, “Where are you heading to?”

“Oh, nowhere in particular,” she sighed, getting out of the jeep and shutting the door angrily. Good. Just like how she wanted her day to be.

“Let me send you back home,” he offered, pointing to the black ride behind the jeep. She shook her head, her mouth forming into a tight smile.

“That’s alright, I can-”

“Walk back home? Come on, you’re far from Figure 8, and you’re 50 minutes away from The Cut on foot.”

She didn’t exactly wish for this, but it would help.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, helping her up to the motorcycle and placing her hands on his shoulders for some balance.

“You’ve never ridden a bike before?” JJ asked, half-amused. “No, no, because you look nervous.”

“I’ve just never ridden a bike with you driving,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Can you send me to the taxi stop or anything?”

“Really? Why can’t I just drive you home?”

She groaned, “Just send me to the taxi port, Maybank.”

He laughed, putting his helmet on, and (Y/N) placed her hands against her ears at the loud sound of the engine.

(Y/N) hate to admit it; but the ride to The Cut was the most thrilling thing that she had ever felt in months. She felt a smile slowly forming onto her face, and JJ swore he could see it too from the side mirror, and when they finally stopped at the taxi port, she was so happy she felt like buying a bike for herself.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said. “Minus one point for no helmet.”

“I didn’t know I would see you laying by the side of the road,” he rolled his eyes, a hint of teasing in his tone. “But where’s the fun when you’re all safe?”

She hummed in response, “I’ll see you around then.”

“So you’re just going to get an expensive ride back to Figure 8? Why wouldn’t you let me send you off?”

She knew exactly why, but she didn’t want to admit it. She was scared of Rafe seeing her on JJ’s bike, knowing that he’s not on good terms with the pogues, and the last thing she had ever wanted was to make him feel like he was being replaced.

“Don’t trouble yourself too much, JJ,” she sighed. “Besides, you can see me for the next 2 months everyday if that’s what you want.”

He grinned, “Good offer. Will think about that soon.”

(Y/N) laughed, tilting her head to one side before making a move to reach for her phone. JJ watched as she filled in her passcode, went straight to Contacts, and handed him the phone.

“What’s this?”

“Oh god, you’re annoying,” she rolled her eyes. “Put in your McDonald’s order.”

JJ laughed again, his fingers sliding over her phone screen easily to fill in his number, and he handed her the phone back after saving his name as ‘Handsome pogue’.

“I’ll see you around, (Y/L/N).”

(Y/N) smiled, this time sincerely, and she thought about the possibility of spending her summer in The Cut with JJ where she knew there would be no troubles awaiting her.

It was safe to say that JJ and (Y/N) were inseparable after spending so much time together the next few weeks. Everywhere JJ goes, (Y/N) would be there with him, either by helping him with his work in the restaurant or running for groceries to deliver with him. She liked it with him; he took her mind off Rafe, and that was everything that she needed.

JJ knew about the girl’s relationship with Rafe last year, but he was careful not to cross the invisible line. He was gentle with her, always studying her reactions at certain places (he was sure Rafe had taken her to those places before) and in return, she knew everything about him.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” she bit her lips, letting the water soaked her jeans as they laid on the sand, gazing at the view. She felt sorry for the blonde boy after knowing the truth about his father, and wished she could help him in any way.

“That’s okay,” he replied. “Hey, I’m bringing you to meet my friends. Would you like that?”

“Your friends?” She raised her brows, “Like Kiera and Pope?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “Would you like to meet them?”

(Y/N) thoughts went back to the many times Rafe had told her about the pogues, but she always saw them as a tight group of friends who always had each other’s backs. She never had that kind of friendship before, especially living in New York where almost everyone is fake, and sometimes wished she could have something like that.

“Okay, yeah,” she nodded, “Would they like me?”

“You’re kidding? You’re amazing!” JJ gushed out, throwing his arms onto the air before slapping the water, resulting in a splash across her face.

She gasped, “Fuck, you’re fucking dead.”

“No, no, I don’t mean it-”

The conversation turned into a water fight, their screams filling the air and attracting everyone’s attention, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She was enjoying the moment, with JJ, and she wished she could do this forever.

“Stop it!” JJ laughed, pushing her down to the sand before pinning her arms on top of her head. He watched as her chest heaved, a smile playing on her lips.

He pulled away, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

(Y/N) pulled him into a kiss, her fingers wrapping themselves around his jawline and allowing the water to completely wet their whole body. JJ softened into the kiss, still so shocked, but he never felt better than ever.

(Y/N) pulled away, giggling. “You’re red in the face, JJ.”

“Huh?” He smiled, and quickly pulled her up with him. “Let’s go to the Chateau. Get you cleaned up.”

“I’m not meeting your friends looking like this, J,” she rolled her eyes, pushing him away slightly. He pulled her close, placing a soft kiss against her forehead that left her all breathless.

“Why not? You’re still pretty.”

She made a face, but let her body be pulled away by JJ to his bike. She was nervous, of course, to see his friends, but she decided it was time anyways.

If she was to date JJ, then she would have to meet his friends and talk to them eventually.

When (Y/N) first entered the chateau, she didn’t know what to expect. Pope and Kiera were friendly to her, but she could feel the strange vibe between her and Kie, but they were both trying to be polite not to mention anything.

(Y/N) knew there was somebody missing from the group, but she didn’t dare mention it to anyone. JJ had hinted about this to her before, something about John B getting convicted, but she had tried her best to stray away from the topic.

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Kie smiled, clasping her hands together and laying her back against the chair. She watched as JJ whispered something to (Y/N), feeling her heart tightened when she laughed, and shook her head. Kie would never let anyone like her trouble her.

“JJ, truth or dare,” Kie said, crossing her arms. Her question was directed to JJ, but she watching (Y/N) intently.

“Dare.”

“Come on, we’re short of one person who could think of the best dares,” she said, and (Y/N) realised the piercing tone and attention towards her. She sucked in a breath, not sure if she was just stating or directing the statement to her in a satirical manner.

“Okay, truth,” JJ rolled his eyes.

“Do you miss John B?”

“Kie-” Pope groaned, “Not the time.”

(Y/N) watched as he glanced at her, but quickly pulled away when he realised she was staring at him too.

“Okay, since you guys wanna be such assholes,” Kie sat up straighter. “(Y/N), truth or dare?”

“I’m not playing.”

“Of course you’re playing,” Kie laughed, “You’re fucking with JJ now right? You gotta show-”

“Shit, Kie, what’s your problem?” JJ sighed, throwing his arms up into the air. “She’s a friend of mine.”

“She’s not your friend!” She suddenly exclaimed, “She fucking saw Rafe shot Sheriff Peterkin but decided to keep her stupid mouth shut because-”

“Stop it!” JJ yelled, pushing her against the seat. “Kie! Not right now!”

“What do you mean not right now?” (Y/N) asked, disbelief lacing in her tone. What was even happening? She was having the best time of her life a few hours ago at the beach, and now this?

“Oh, did your boyfriend not tell you?” Kie laughed. “It’s all an act for you to confess to him that you saw Rafe kill Sheriff Peterkin. Don’t fucking act dumb with me, (Y/N), you saw, and you didn’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she gritted her teeth, “I never saw him kill anyone.”

“Bullshit!”

“Kie!” JJ yelled, using all of his power to hold off the struggling girl. He motioned for Pope to take over and tried to reach (Y/N), only for her to walk straight towards the exit.

“Wait, wait, I don’t mean it-” he sighed, wrapping his fingers around her wrist before pulling her close. “I don’t-”

“You betrayed me,” she said. “Are you that stupid? So you planned about helping me to the taxi stop so that I can confess whatever it is about Rafe? Is that your fucking plan?”

“No, oh my god, I didn’t mean-”

“Fuck! I know I can never trust you guys,” she hissed, pulling her hand away before walking towards the door. She groaned again when she realised the lack of a vehicle to drive home, but she rather walk back home than be in the same distance as JJ or Kie or anyone else.

She walked alone all the way to the main part of town so that she could hire a cab, and just to make her day any better; the rain suddenly decided it was time to cool the island, and (Y/N) was left to soak.

She put her arms around her, shivering slightly, looking back at her previous way and wondering how much time she had spent walking from the Chateau. If only she had driven all the way from Figure 8 to The Cut, she wouldn’t have had to waste her time walking mindlessly.

A few minutes after, she saw a car pulling up beside her. She decided to ignore the black vehicle in hope for whoever it is to finally give up.

“Get in, (Y/N).”

Part #2

[somebodycall911onabc]

Spoon me, you idiot

Post ep4x13 Buddie because my brain is just that episode on loop. Hands up if you're not ready for the season 4 finale, folks. Have some cuddling and love confessions in the meantime.

Buck helps Eddie over the threshold with one hand at Eddie’s elbow and the other pressed against his hip. Eddie’s fine, he’s fine, he’s alive, but he’s exhausted. Pain and shock weigh down his shoulders, make him unsteady on his feet.

Carla breathes in sharply at the sight of him. Then she’s stepping forward, folding Eddie into a soft embrace, pulling his head down cheek to cheek with hers. Buck drags his eyes away from his living, breathing, living friend to find Chris, who’s lying on the couch with his glasses askew, mouth open in sleep. Buck’s heart clenches like a fist. He’s going to remember Chris’s haunted, horrified expression for the rest of his life, the light dying in Chris’s eyes as Buck had to tell him… had to tell him that his dad wasn’t coming home that night.

Buck walks over to Chris and kneels down beside him. He’s pretty sure it’s the first time Chris has slept since he heard about it. The first time in more than 48 hours that the kid’s closed his eyes. Buck brushes the curls back from Chris’s forehead, trying to be gentle, not wanting to wake him.

Eddie gets down next to Buck, their knees pressing together. Buck feels the shudder that runs down Eddie’s spine, feels it echoed in his soul. Buck isn’t the religious type, but he feels like this is another miracle. Years after his first brush with death, Eddie coming home once again to his son.

With a hand on Chris’s shoulder, Eddie murmurs, “hey, my little Superman. Chris, I’m here.”

Chris’s eyes open slowly, reluctantly, until he sees his dad’s face and wakes up all at once.

“Dad!” Chris shouts, hands flying up to attach themselves to Eddie’s face. “Dad!”

Eddie’s smiling, huffing out laughter in pure, unadulterated joy at seeing his son’s delighted expression. Chris is grinning and whooping, falling forward to curl himself into his dad’s chest. Eddie lifts one arm to hold Chris close and buries his face in Chris’s hair.

Buck blinks back tears, feeling relief crash over him. He rubs his eyes and starts to get to his feet, wanting to give the Diaz boys some space, until he feels a tug on his shirt. Eddie’s hand twists in the fabric. He’s not even looking at Buck, head tucked against the curve of Chris’s skull. Buck sinks back down and tentatively puts his arms around the both of them, Chris’s knobbly spine and Eddie’s strong back, his cheek brushing Eddie’s forehead. Buck lets out a breath that trembles like an earthquake.

It feels like home. It feels impossible. It’s what he’s always wanted. It feels like something Buck isn’t allowed to have.

When they finally let go of each other, what could be a minute or a year later, Buck notices Carla standing at the end of the couch. She’s smiling fondly at all of them, and Buck realizes abruptly that this is the first time he’s seen her since the pandemic started. He gets up—although it’d be more fair to say he tears himself away—and moves toward her, and there’s always been something magic about Carla because she takes one look at him and she knows.

“I missed you,” Buck says, his nose smashed into her chin. She’s hugging him like she’s trying to pack Buck down tight and snug him into a little box where she can keep him safe. Or maybe that’s just Buck’s wishful thinking. He’s so goddamn tired.

“I missed you too, Buckaroo,” Carla says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Buck swallows the lump in his throat her tenderness causes.

She pulls away and very gently pats his cheek, looking Buck in the eye. “He needs you, you hear?” She whispers, holding that eye contact like she’s bet money on a staring competition. “Take care of each other.”

Buck can only nod.

She lets go of him and Buck shakes himself into standing straight, even though he’d much rather crumple to the floor. But he needs to get Eddie and Chris to bed, he needs to figure out what’s still edible in the kitchen and take out the trash, he needs to call the pharmacy for Eddie’s meds and the station for Eddie’s med leave, he needs to—

“Alright boys, get some rest.” Buck blinks and Carla comes back into focus. She’s addressing all of them, voice firm. “I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow to help out.”

“Thank you, Carla,” Eddie says.

“No need for that.” She bends down to give Eddie a quick hug, and Buck hears her tell him, “just try not to get on the bad side of any more sniper-rifle-wielding nut jobs, alright?”

Eddie’s reply is somewhere between a laugh and a choked-back sob.

Buck walks Carla to the door. Before she leaves, she looks at him, sharp-eyed and commanding again. “You call me if you need anything. Anything. You look just as bad as he does.”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks, Carla.”

She narrows her eyes at him, but this is what Buck has always been best at. He wades through the hurt and the pain and just keeps going. He gives her a tight smile, reminds himself that he wasn’t the one shot (no, just the one sprayed with Eddie’s blood, he can still feel it on his skin, still taste it on his lips), and closes the door behind her.

Getting Chris and Eddie to bed is easy. Buck lifts Chris up, carries him to Eddie’s room, and pulls the covers over both the Diaz boys. Eddie tries to catch Buck’s eye while Buck leaves the room, but if Buck stops moving then he’s not sure when or if he’ll start again. Buck pulls the bedroom door most of the way closed, leaving a tiny crack in case Eddie or Chris need him in the night.

In the kitchen, the clock on the stove informs him that it’s just past 9 pm. It’s jarringly early. It feels like time doesn’t really exist, that he’s been moving in a place defined by the hours since Eddie dropped, the hours since Eddie went into surgery, the hours since Eddie woke up.

Buck opens the fridge and looks into it without seeing anything, like when you’re reading only to realize that three pages have gone by without you remembering a single word. He closes the fridge door and opens it again, and oh, there’s the carton of milk and bottle of ketchup on the top shelf, the egg carton down to its last egg, a container of left-over fried rice from… was it yesterday? Buck folds back the top flap and sniffs it, decides it will be fine for one of the boys to eat when they get up.

He closes the fridge and investigates the pantry next. Two boxes of spaghetti, a can of beans, three cans of chicken noodle soup, an unopened bag of quinoa that is probably the result of Ana because Buck’s not sure Eddie has ever heard of quinoa—like he’s taking inventory of the truck. Thermal blankets, C-spine collar kit, 3L of sterile water, 3L sodium chloride, hug-a-bear. The 118 has a blue elephant courtesy of Athena. Buck could honestly really use it right now.

Buck runs a hand through his hair and pulls out his phone, planning to make a grocery list. He sees two missed calls from Bobby and eight from Maddie. One from Chim. Hen texted him at 4pm: How you holding up?

Buck very slowly puts the phone down.

He takes a step back and grips the edge of the kitchen counter. Breathe, Buck, he thinks. Just breathe.

His vision is spotty when he opens his eyes, like he’d shut them too tight. He doesn’t remember shutting them. It doesn’t matter. Buck finds a scrap of paper in the recycling bin and a pen from the junk drawer and writes a list. It’s late, so he’ll go to the grocery store in the morning, early, make sure breakfast is on the table for when Eddie and Chris get up. Oh fuck, does he have a shift tomorrow? What day is it?

Buck puts down the pen and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. He can’t do this. He can’t stand here and pretend like he can take care of Eddie because he can’t stop seeing Eddie die. It’s in the back of his head every moment, it’s what he sees every time he closes his eyes, it’s the memory rewritten by his cells as they multiply and decay, it’s in his fucking genome now or whatever they call it—

it’s in the air he breathes, the reminder that for a moment that lasted an eternity, Eddie’s heart had stopped beating.

It’s a loud silence. Deafening.

Buck thinks, take a breath before you pass out, idiot.

Buck thinks, get a glass of water and pull yourself together.

Buck thinks, your best friend just got shot, you don’t have time for this bullshit.

Buck peels his hands away from the counter slowly, carefully, like if he makes one wrong move he’ll come away with flayed palms. He pours himself a glass of water and makes himself drink the whole thing. He picks up the list he wrote and reads it over and over and over. He thinks: what do I know is true? I’m standing in Eddie’s kitchen. I’m alive. Eddie is alive. And: I should get carrots.

Buck hiccups. Carrots—fucking—

No. Get it together. DAMN IT, Buck!

Buck bites the inside of his cheek until it bleeds and does not add carrots to the grocery list. Because apparently they cause emotional breakdowns, and Buck can’t afford one.

He puts himself to work. He ties the trash bag and then he wipes down the counters, and then he unties the trash bag to throw some paper towels in. He transfers the dishes from the sink to the dishwasher, quiet as he can, and locates a broom at the back of Eddie’s hall closet to sweep the floor.

When he’s emptying the dust pan into the trash (he’d tied and untied the bag again, but nobody’s counting, so what does it matter), Eddie says: “Are you OK?”

Buck jumps at least three feet in the air. He’s got the quads for it.

“Hey!” Buck whisper-shouts, turning to face Eddie. “What are you doing up?”

“Was wondering where you were.”

“Uh,” Buck looks around at the spotless kitchen and the broom in his hand. “Just, you know. Thought I’d be of service.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows at him. “Buck, the last thing I’m worried about is the state of my kitchen.”

“Right. That’s why I’m taking care of it. You know, so you don’t uh. You don’t have to.”

“OK.” Eddie squints at him like maybe a closer look will explain why Buck is sweeping his kitchen at 9:45pm three days after he got shot in the street in broad daylight. Buck sincerely hopes he doesn’t figure it out. He leans the broom against the counter and clips the dust pan to it in a rare display of tidiness. The pan slides down the broom handle until it hits the floor.

“When’s the last time you slept?”

Buck shrugs.

“Answer, please.”

God, what a dad.

(Not that Buck would know.)

“Uh… I think I got a few hours while you were in surgery.”

“That was two days ago, Buck,” Eddie says, frowning at him. “You look like a stiff breeze could knock you over.”

“Well, we’re inside.”

“Why are you being so stubborn? You need to sleep.”

“I’m just not really feeling it,” Buck says, folding his arms and resting his hip against the counter.

“Not giving you a choice,” Eddie says, looking extra grumpy because he can’t fold his arms. Unless you count the one in a sling as folded.

“I’m fine, Eddie. Don’t worry about me. You should be with Christopher.”

Eddie lifts his hand to his face and rubs his temples.

“Buck,” he says, “the only thing I need you to do right now is come to bed.”

“But I—“

“Come to bed, Buck.”

And it’s the repetition. It’s the look in Eddie’s eyes like a slow, early flame: the promise of a fire.

Buck’s throat is very, very dry.

“I… yeah. OK.”

Eddie gives him a small smile. Buck’s reeling. Because here’s the thing—they’ve shared a bed before. They’ve shared a too-small bunk at the station and a backseat and even a beanbag once (courtesy of a very poor decision on Buck’s part, but at least Chris likes it). But it’s always been “just bros.” It’s always been necessity. It’s been about efficiency and familiarity. Which maybe Buck is reading this all wrong and snuggling up with your best friend and his son after a near-death experience is totally no homo but… come to bed. Come to bed. Like it’s their bed. Like Buck belongs there.

Buck’s ears are ringing while he follows Eddie down the hallway to his bedroom. Their bedroom? He’s losing it.

The hallway light illuminates a strip of the room as they step inside. Buck can see Chris tucked in the sheets, curled into the rumpled spot where Eddie slid out to fetch Buck. This has to mean something, right? They’ve been dancing around and on the edge of something for so long, Buck doesn’t know how to interpret anything anymore. He loves Eddie, though. And probably the only way he’ll sleep right now is if Eddie’s in arm’s reach. So it doesn’t really matter what this is, because Buck will take any scrap of Eddie he can get, not just tonight, but always.

Eddie slips into the bed and scoots forward, leaving a space behind for Buck. Chris makes a heavy, sleepy sound and turns his head into his dad’s shoulder. Carefully, so, so carefully, Buck lowers himself onto the bed and fills the space Eddie made for him.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks, exasperated.

Buck blinks at the ceiling. “What?”

“Idiot,” Eddie mutters. “Spoon me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Buck, this bed is small enough as it is with one person. I know you’re hanging half off it right now.”

“You’re not even looking at me.”

“Call it intuition,” Eddie says, dry as the desert.

Buck gingerly turns on his side, his chest just a breath away from Eddie’s back. “I…” He swallows. “Where should I put my arm?”

“Buck, you must have done this before.”

“That’s your bad arm, Eds.”

Eddie shifts a little, his calf coming into contact with Buck’s shin. Buck breaks into a cold sweat.

“Shit, well… under the sling, then. Around my waist?”

Dry, dry, his throat is so dry.

Buck lifts his arm up and drapes it over Eddie’s waist. He shuffles in closer, pressing them together from head to toe. His nose is in Eddie’s hair, his dick is nestled in the curve of Eddie’s ass, his ankles are knocking into Eddie’s. Buck feels like he might reverberate out of his skin.

“You sure you wouldn’t rather have Ana here?” Buck whispers. His mouth is like, one inch from Eddie’s ear.

Eddie turns his head a little, so his ear actually brushes Buck’s lip. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Eddie says, “There’s no one in this world I want here more than you.”

Buck stutters on his next breath.

“I wish it’d been me,” he says, suddenly. Eddie has to know. Eddie probably already knows. Buck’s grateful, so goddamn grateful, that Eddie survived. And sure, part of it is that self-deprecating shit he’s been working through with this therapist: Eddie has more to live for, Eddie has a kid, Eddie is a better man than I’ll ever be. But mostly, it’s far simpler than that.

If Eddie had died, the sniper may as well have shot Buck too. Because Buck doesn’t know how to live without Eddie. He’d found that out ages ago, when he lost Eddie under fifty feet of mud and water.

Eddie’s next words are nearly a growl. “The only good thing to come out of all this,” he says, “is that you didn’t get hurt.”

“What are you—“

“After it happened, when I was… when I was lying there, I—I looked at you. I looked at you, Buck, and I was terrified. Not because I might die, but because if I did, who was going to protect you? Who was going to keep a sniper off your self-sacrificing, heroic ass, and make sure someone came home to Chris? Who was—“ Eddie cut himself off with a sigh. “I was worried about you.”

Buck feels like… like an unbroken, empty tundra. Like a fried electric socket. Like someone dropped him to the very bottom of a very deep well.

“Eddie, Eddie I—“

“Shh,” Eddie murmurs, as Buck shakes apart. As he bends his head to hide his tears in the nape of Eddie’s neck. As he bites his tongue to stay quiet and not wake Chris up. Eddie presses backward into Buck’s hold. “I know, I know.”

“I can’t lose you,” Buck grits out between several halting breaths.

“You won’t,” Eddie says.

“I almost did.”

“You had my back.” Buck’s throat makes an awful, wheezing sound as he fights a losing battle against crying. “You got me out of there. You saved me.”

“I love you,” Buck says, losing the fight against that too.

“Buck… I…” Eddie sounds like someone knocked the wind out of him.

“Sorry,” Buck hurries to say, chest icing over with panic. “Sorry I just—“

“I love you,” Eddie interrupts. “I do. I know it took me a long time to realize, but… I’ve been in love with you, Buck.”

“Oh my god,” Buck says. I mean, what else do you say to that? No wonder Eddie froze up. Buck is in shock. “Is this real?”

“I hope so,” Eddie says. “And if it isn’t, then I’ll just have to tell you when we wake up.”

Buck feels fit to burst with more emotions than he can name. Relief, joy, fear, disbelief, pin-prickly. It feels like another miracle.

“Deal,” Buck says. And places a kiss to the fatal, devastating spot behind Eddie’s ear.

Eddie is the first thing Buck sees when he wakes up. “Good morning” are the first words he hears.

And then:

“Just so you know, I love you.”

[jiminrings]

i think stem!koo would compare himself with the other guy and start questioning if that’s more oc’s type and if he’s just the outlier. maybe even tries mimicking the other guy to see oc’s reaction… like if oc was talking to hobi and guk saw and then when they meet up a few day later oc’s like???? why are you blonde?

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

besides hoseok having the divine ability to throw pretty cool parties, it turns out he’s actually pretty cool too — too bad jungkook doesn’t know how to handle his jealousy at all.

“would you hate me?”

there’s no morning like today, really

no morning like today because all three of you woke up before 10 am

setting alarms when there are no classes is the equivalent of setting yourself up and you will not subject yourself to that!! — you wake up at like 12 pm max

yoongi would typically wake up at 4 in the morning, groggily realize that it’s iNDEED 4 in the morning, and go back to sleep — he wakes up seven hours later <3

jin’s sleeping pattern (or as what he calls un-blinking hours) fluctuates so oftenly and is therefore non-existent — he wakes up only when you wake him up!!

the three of you just started coming out of your rooms one-by-one and were in a daze looking at each other :|

no morning like today because now that the three of you woke up practically at the same exact time for an unknown reason, you asked if you can have jungkook come over for breakfast and they agreed

“do you guys mind if i invite jungkook for breakfast?”

“nah. go ahead.”

“it’s alright i understand i-?? what did you just say?”

jungkook also feels like there’s definitely something in the air this morning and it’s not weed lol

jin greeted him and yoongi nodded at him??? it felt as weird yet gratifying as a nickelodeon show crossover

all of you are immersed in casual and playful chatter in a somehow haze!! seokjin’s on autopilot preparing four (!!) bowls and yoongi’s getting the family (!!) cutlery instead of the disposable visitor ones

which is why the moment you ask a seemingly-loaded question, everyone just immediately snappeD out of it and was brought back to reality

“would you hate me?”

“never.” (jungkook fervently shakes his head no that his neck felt like it was unscrewed at one point)

“i would gaslight everyone and everything for you.” (yoongi snickers with his hands across his chest, actually thinking that he could also gaslight anything for you even if it’s an inanimate object)

“depends.” (jin carelessly shrugs as he tries to convince himself that you wouldn’t commit arson to his dream shared house with you and yoongi)

...

well they really didn’t let you finish ://

“thank you, but i didn’t mean it that way,” you snicker in thought at each of their answers, giving jungkook a grateful pat on his knee

yoongi almost scowls at that but he, along with jin, catches your incessant gaze

oh the question is meant for the two of them???

“would you hate me if i convince the two of you to split with me the cost of a canvas painting?”

a what

since wHEN are you into canvas paintings???

the two of them have their mouths slightly ajar and even jungkook’s joining in because even if he’s nOt included in this conversation, he’s also surprised???

“like an old abstract painting?” jin grimaces and therefore breaks the silence, blindly folding in his fluffy pancake mix to look at your reaction

“god, no,” you shudder already at the thought of an old painting with asbestos you can’t gauge the meaning of being hung at the large empty wall, “it’s for our dorm.”

.... oh?

they aren’t really against chipping in for an item that only yOU would benefit from, but it’s kinda exciting to think that all three of you are involved

“how big is this painting that you’re talking about?”

yoongi asks in deep thought, already thinking about nails and screws (which probably aren’t allowed) and the backup heavy-duty mounting tape

he’s curious already!!!! screw him!!!

“really?” your eyes considerably widen, looking at the teo of them, both shrugging at each other and that’s already your seal of approval!!! see!! you didn’t even have to plead :D

“A1 — that’s what the guy said. i found him on instagram!!”

yoongi narrows his eyes at you unironically, tch-ing at what you just said

“i don’t speak in barbecue sauce, y/n.”

.,.,.,...,. pls

jin snorts extra loudly because yoongi’s completely serious and not kidding at all when he only knows A1 as a goddamn brand of sauce instead of an actual measurement

“A1 means 23x33 inches in sizing, dumbass.”

the guy at the receiving end of chuckles only nods with newfound knowledge, already mapping it out

“what’s it about? i-i can chip in too if you’d like!!”

jungkook interjects sincerely, raising his hand out of classroom habit to which he sheepishly brings down

“it’s okay, koo. you don’t need to,” you reply back sincerely and effectively shut out the egging that yoongi and jin are giving him, something along the lines of “hey jungkook!! what if you pay for it whole, hm? you can come over for breakfast next time if you do.”

jungkook was really about to steal your phone and enter his card information in a sECOND if only you didn’t stop him

“the painting is to die for, y’know?” you hype it up as much as you could, holding jungkook’s hands in place so he can stop reaching for his wallet

:D

“it’s a painting of a sheep on a field, with the mountains behind it, that says atleast we’re under the same sky!!”

it’s pretty much safe to say that jin and yoongs were ready to lay down their money right then and there

neither of you can put a finger on it but it just tOUCHES your heart!! it’s a piece that pops up in your mind every now and then and feels like a fond memory while at it

“...and sent! quick too — he already gave me the payment confirmation.”

that’s nice!! not even five minutes after you sent your proof of payment and he already acknowledged it

the fact that it’s already paid for now aND is probably gonna get delivered within a matter of days is exciting, really

“i think i’d toss and turn in bed until that painting arrives,” yoongi yawns in admission, going into town with the powdered sugar on his pancakes that you physically had to stop him

“i’d save that painting first when there’s a fire,” jin snickers but it’s not that well-received, getting a pointed glare in return from yoongi, “fine. i’ll save y/n first and then the painting.”

this is your happy place :-)

your three favorite boys in the whole entire world in the sAME room!! and they’re not arguing!! there’s now dwelling in the past!!

just mediocre tolerance from yoongi and jin’s side, then half-giddiness and half-nervousness from jungkook’s side

“when it arrives, i’ll take a picture of the three of you and get it printed!”

kook offers and it earns him a ruffle on his hair, surprisingly from jin, that makes him almost chOke on the most delicious pancakes he’s ever tasted

“thank you, koo.”

jungkook’s getting used to this, actually

normally he’d expect a kiss on his cheek for his wonderful offer!! or maybe a hand on his thigh!! but he’s slowly starting to realize that you’re not always a physically affectionate lover

he’s admittedly the clingier out of the two of you but it’s okay!! right!!!!!!! it is :D

he’s sitting beside you right now on the couch anyway!! he’ll take that

yoongi, however, will nOT take it because that’s his spot and jungkook’s taking it away from him >:( he’s only noticed now out of the twenty minutes the four of you have been sitting here

he’s sneakily scraping off the powdered sugar from his pancakes and to the edge of his plate, ready to spill it on jungkook so he’d have an excuse of pushing him to the bathroom and take his spot beside you

just one more scrape and-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCKKKKKKKKKKKK-!!!!!!

literally everyone jolts with the abrupt knocking on your door and it even panics you a little

“w-who’s that?” jungkook fidgets on his seat and raises his feet on the cushions (no one can scold him bc everyone is also preoccupied) and his hand grips on your forearm out of instinct

“are you expecting anyone?” you ask jin because this may just be namjoon who’s rushing to get inside because students might see him

“no one,” he shakes his head and turns to yoongi, “this yours?”

yoongi shakes his head, his hand still clutching at his chest, “didn’t even order anything online these past two weeks.”

this is okay!! robbers don’t knock on the door, right? :-)

you make the initiative to stand up but you get tugged almost immediately by the three of them, shrugging them off as calmly as you could

“i’ll just see, alright?”

you peep on the keyhole and you relax immediately, just seeing a delivery guy with a huge package

you open the door and jungkook sputters of why the hell you would, about to skid towards you when-

“hoseok?”

is that-

is that jung hoseok??

jung hoseok as in your junior, the one who’s notoriously known for throwing the coolest parties ever?? to which he gets even the seal of approval from his seniors??

the same hoseok who threw the party wherein jungkook was ditched by jimin and you needed to walk him home? the one who threw the party wherein tae slipped outside and you needed to take him to the hospital??

tHAT hoseok????

he’s kinda cool for all of that actually

“Y/N???”

he’s just as surprised as you are, mouth actually dropping agape

the both of you are so surprised that neither of you seem to acknowledge the mammoth of a package that he’s holding

...

....

“oh my god, you’re the one who ordered my painting!!!”

hoseok actually leaps to hug you and it’s a miracle that you’re not knocked over with his sheer force, giddily jumping up and down as if embracing you is not enough

he pulls off before you could even poke at him, instead holding you by your shoulders and jostling you lightly now

jungkook’s watching the whole thing unfold and he’s still quite stuck on the couch, head tilting in confusion

why.... is hoseok.... hugging you.....

why........ are you letting him..... hug you

“oh my god!!! you’re the one!!!!! i-i thought no one would buy from me because i’m a small business and i don’t have a lot of works right now and my style is different but — yoongi!!!!”

hoseok attaches to yoongi next and the older guy just chuckles, patting him on the back

they’re not really close and no one really hugs their senior like that, most especially yoongi, but here they are

“let me guess, you’re one of the three who bought it, right?? y/n messaged me saying that she has two friends chipping in and asked me that if i could, add in some freebies!! and i did!!!”

man,, hoseok is quick

“we didn’t know you’re the one who made it,” you admit which gets a lot of nodding from both parties

“i didn’t know either that you guys were the one who bought it!” hoseok exclaims and turns his head to jin, “mr. kim!!! thank you so much!! you complete the trio, right?”

you and yoongi are bAFFLED at hoseok hugging seokjin, or rather mr. kim, aka an official of student affairs

what’s even more baffling is that jin doesn’t look surprised at all

“you two — i- uhm? i don’t-...”

“... hoseok’s my plug. our plug, actually.”

:O

hoseok doesn’t even look the least bit fazed, even nodding and laughing as he raises his hand

“i’m a business major!!”

ok wait maybe that does explain everything

jungkook’s so lost looking at the scene in front of him and frankly, he doesn’t know if he’s still included at this point

he’s frazzled when hoseok’s eyes slightly widen at the sight of him but later grin at him, looking back at you to wiggle his eyebrows

“and jungkook, is a stem major.”

it seems like no one but jungkook is surprised at hoseok’s sudden barging presence in the dorm

no one is batting an eye when he invites himself to stay and plop on the couch

“here, you can have mine.”

jungkook helplessly looks at you when you offer yOUR plate (that has one whole pancake left) to hoseok and leave him be

no one’s questioning him because after all, the three of you are busy unwrapping the package while he continues to explain

“what was i saying again? oh right!! i panicked when i saw the money transferred to my account because even if we were chatting, at first i was a littlE hesitant because like, bogus buyers amirite??” he speaks through a mouthful of pancakes, “and then you paid!! and i saw the address and tHEN i was really excited and like panicked? i didn’t want to get it shipped when you’re this near because that’s expensive!! and i wanted to thank the three of you personally!!”

“— which is why i sprinted all the way here!!”

that explains hoseok’s breathless and sweaty state, the whole tale of him bumping into the dean at one point and almost stomping on a pigeon making everyone entertained

everyone besides jungkook.

is it just him or is everyone’s eye twitching right now

is this his dorm? no. but does he feel like hoseok’s intruding, regardless if he lives in here or in the perspective of a fellow visitor? yes.

apparently, nONE out of the three of you seem to think so

because it’s all so good!! hoseok probably lives in your dorm too because why else would you give up your breakfast for him??

the three of you are actively fawning over the painting and jungkook’s just sO sure that it’s giving hoseok the biggest ego boost of his life ://

they just share a class or two, they aren’t really close anyways

hoseok’s the type to be intimidating and popular at the same time but surprisingly, he’s friendly in a way

ok maybe jungkook’s just getting a little over in his head rn

if he leaves, then it’s also hoseok’s time to leave!!!

he’s already practicing the words in his head

“come on hoseok, they’re the furthest thing away from being done at fawning. let’s walk together back to the dorms.”

he’s about to say it when-

“anyone have a headband i can borrow?”

hoseok asks aloud and effectively catches everyone’s attention, making you stand up in agreement

what the fuck is actually happening

jungkook watches you hand one of the headbands you wear during your games to hoseok, a guy you barely know, like it’s no big deal?????

that headband smells like your hair!!! the hair that he loves to bury his nose into and plays with!!!

that’s yours and you’re giving it to hIM?

jungkook’s stomach actually drops even if he just finished eating minutes ago, ina daze looking at hoseok putting it on his blonde hair

he doesn’t know what’s stemming from his heart nor what his tummy’s telling him, but jungkook doesn’t like it at all.

“i’m going home,” kook murmurs behind you who’s instructing yoongi and jin to level the painting some more, snaking his arm around your waist

“really? oh, okay. text me when you get home.”

you only sweetly smile at him and jungkook’s actually awaiting the offer of you walking him home, but it doesn’t come

that’s okay!

“bye. love you.”

he softly says yet it’s enough for everyone to hear, his hand still secured snugly on your waist

jungkook’s about to go for a kiss on your cheek because he’s sURE that both yoongi and jin would scowl at him if he took it any further, but he catches hoseok at the corner of his eye and it’s all out the door

he unexpectedly presses a chaste kiss on your lips and playfully drags out the mwah! at the end, much to the daggers your friends send him

that’s enough!! hoseok already saw — you’re taken by him. jungkook doesn’t need to worry now that hoseok knows :)

...

....

...... he may have spoken too soon

he’s already established that you’re taken by him, that’s great! even hoseok teases him when they see each other the next day

was that an ego boost? yes

what wasn’t an ego boost is seeing hoseok talking to him and parading the halls with your headband on!!

that’s yOUR headband!!! not his!!! what happened to merely borrowing it?

did he just happen to steal it from you, or did you just let him steal it from you?

:(

jungkook positively thinks that’s the end of this whole heart-clenching

hoseok has your headband but jungkook has you. it’s clear who’s actually winning in life

but god is jungkook wrong again

he texted you in the same morning on what you were doing since you had your classes cancelled for today with no professors coming in

going to brunch with hobi instead of sleeping all day. jin’s in the office and yoongi’s out on grocery duty. have fun w your classes :)

Hobi???

Uhm I literally just passed him in the halls two minutes ago

really? lmao that means he’s skipping class then

no because hold on

hoseok’s sKIPPING class to go to brunch with you?

you’re going to brunch with him???

HOBI?????

jungkook uncomfortably tucks his phone back into his pocket as class starts, chewing at his bottom lip

do you want him to skip classes so he could go to brunch with you?

better yet, is hoseok better than him because it’s no problem for him to skip classes??

now that he thinks about it, jungkook hasn't skipped even a single day of classes ever since freshman year

he used to take pride on his attendance but now he uh kinda wants a blank mark on his card actually

he could go to lengths of skipping classes if you asked him to!! he can!! of course he'll do that for you

but you don't ask him to and it's obvious that you only learned now how hoseok's able to meet you in the first place, but the reason behind it didn't seem to faze you

in fact, it looks like you're even amused

jungkook has to physically shake his head to get rid of his thoughts but that doesn't do anything

he's still thinking about you and hoseok during class.

he's trying not to dwell on it but it's difficult when he's always reminded of it

every time he comes over, the painting is GLARING at him and that's the reason jungkook just keeps his eyes on you for literally the whole time that he's there

your phone sometimes dings and it's a tiktok notification of hoseok sending you one

everything he does, hoseok and his outrageously blonde hair just seems to follow him

you had cat fur on the sleeve of your hoodie because you pet the campus cat awhile ago and jungkook was about to shriek because even that reminded him of the guy

all he's done this week is become bothered and frustrated to the point that even jimin, oftenly the most clueless and easy-going guy in the room, noticed it

"trouble in paradise?"

jimin's cool voice is the first thing that snaps him out of his anti-hoseok tirade in his mind, his eyes landing on his roommate lazily

it's actually jimin's red hair that makes jungkook look twice because when he saw him in the morning, he was still blonde

....,.,. blonde....?

"jimin?"

"hmm? am i right? is it rEALLY trouble in-"

"remember that time you ditched me in hoseok's party? or that time i made your paper because you forgot and you were hung-over and then you ended up getting an A?"

jimin's head tilts at jungkook's enumeration, blinking owlishly at him

".... yeah?"

"good," jungkook nods in acknwoledgement at jimin's recall, "because i think i'm gonna cash in the favors that you owe me."

:O

it's pouring

it hasn't rained in so long and it's raining sO hard that you might have to look for a candle later on

it was on the news anyway that it was gonna rain this hard but no one really expected that it'd be this hard!!

nonetheless, jungkook soothed your worries and said he'd come over because the two of you haven't seen each other in like three days

maybe it's just you but something feels off with jungkook

oddly, he's gotten a little bit more attached to you yet weirdly distant at the same time

for some reason, he asks a lot more questions too

just yesterday, he sent you a screenshot of a white polo, asked if it looked good, and proceeded to immediately purchase it once you said it looked nice

just because you don't frequently comment on what you notice, doesn't exactly mEAN you don't care about it

jungkook's a big boy!! an adult!! if he wants to say something to you, then he says it

he always has the words in his head, that much you know

but yOU, however.,.,.,

you really don't have the words right now

because as soon as you open the door, your eyes land on your boyfriend

your boyfriend in his usual hoodie who's been growing out his hair and is looking very much blonde and different

“you’re blonde?”

you rhetorically ask in shock and you're clueless to the fact that you look like a fish out of water, your hands unconsciously darting out to his chest

“hmm, you like it?”

jungkook hums and tries to keep the giddiness he feels at bay just seeing you look gobsmacked, your hands moving from his collarbones to his neck and finally, to his hair

you offer no answer because you find yourself kissing jungkook before you could even let him in and close the door

he mewls in satisfaction when you kiss him deeper and cup his cheeks, his hands finding no hesitance in pushing your bodies closer by the waist

"my handsome boy," you mumble at one point in the kiss, eternally grateful that the two of you are the only one in the dorm right now

jungkook preens at your attention, mumbling to your lips before he makes the move to kiss you determinedly

“you like me better than hoseok?”

in a single second, he doesn't feel you kissing back at all

he's so confused as he pulls away, dark brows, in contrast to his blonde hair, knitted in confusion

“quit it.”

there's no actual edge to your tone but you feel like it, an incoming realization starting to dawn on you

jungkook's oblivious to your boiling irritation, clueless to how the dots are connecting in your mind and how you're not sure on how to tackle them

“what did i do? i was just asking you if you like me better than him.”

he says nonchalantly and it's the tone that irks you — as if his seemingly harmless question didn't reveal what he really wanted to get at

“i’m with you, jungkook. has that not been established enough yet?”

your voice is still calm yet you trudge away from him, your boyfriend quick on his heels to trail behind you

“i mean you did kiss me on the mouth just now,” jungkook points out as if you weren't aware. “because i’m blonde just like hoseok.”

“oh my god."

it was just a strong hunch at first but hearing it first-hand from jungkook accelerates your sentiment for what he did even faster, your eyes rolling to the back of your head that rubs him the wrong way

he runs his hand through his hair out of habit, reminding you even more that it's bleached and blonde yet for all the wrong intentions

“is asking you so wrong? why are you getting defensive?”

you snicker at his inquiry, hands across your chest that just challenges him to do the same

“what’s wrong is that you dyed your hair blonde for no other reason besides the fact that hoseok is!”

now that jungkook hears it from you, his eyes narrow

“can’t i just be inspired?” he snaps, “can’t i be inspired to look this way because you look at him in that way?”

what?

wHAT????

“what way, jungkook?”

seemingly caught in a blindspot, he tries to backtrack

“i-i’m not-“

you're having none of it and to be honest, you're not even sure if it just pure anger that you're feeling at the moment

“you spent hours in a salon, is that it?" you prod him and that makes jungkook avoid your eyes, huffing under his breath, "got jimin to help you out?" that actually hits a nerve on him and makes his eyes zero in on you with much annoyance, "what did you go through just because you’re so inspired?”

“you look at hoseok like you’re in love with him!”

“i’m not in love with hoseok, jungkook!" you articulate every word but even that seems to anger jungkook further, "why would you even think of that?”

“because you’re only supposed to look at me that way. y-you’re not supposed to go to brunch with a guy alone when you just met him. you’re not supposed to lend him your headbands when he can just buy them! you’re not supposed to do the things you’d do with me with other guys!”

“he’s my friend. just like yoongi and jin are. i can do these things with them but that doesn’t mean i love you any less.”

jungkook rolls his eyes and even your profession of love doesn't budge him at all

“there you are with your guy friends again.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

you feel him treading to dangerous territory but you stand your ground regardless, your voice shaking when you add

“yoongi and jin came into my life way before you did, jungkook.”

it was to simply remind him but he feels as if it's out of spite, looking at you pointedly before patronizingly chuckling

“i know. i can never win with you, that’s it, right? just because you’re older than me by a year and you have friends that want to beat me up — you always win!”

his voice raises by the end of his sentence and it's his words that make you grind your teeth together and your nostrils flare, lip dangerously close to trembling

“i’m sorry if i’m jealous and i don’t know what to do because this is the first time i’ve become a boyfriend, alright?"

jungkook throws his head back and gestures to you, shaking his head while he's so close to crying because of his pent-up insecurity

“i’m sorry that i don’t know what to do and you always do because you probably had like ten boyfriends before me, right?? i’m so inexperienced and new to you that you can’t even stand me and-“

..

there's pin-drop silence in the room.

jungkook only realizes his words belatedly and the weight that they carry, eyes in a stand-still on you who looks the furthest thing from being appeased at him

you're actually hurt.

“how dare you, jungkook.”

your fists are balled to the point that the tips of your fingers feel numb from the pause in circulation, but oddly enough, jungkook feels the most remorseful when he sees your figure deflate and therefore relax

“don’t come home, it’s pouring. or go back to your dorm, whatever. i don’t care.”

he's planted by his feet but he realizes to move when you're walking out of your own dorm, prying away his hand from your elbow

“you can sleep in my room. i’m sleeping out tonight.”

.

.

.

part two

as always, lmk what you think!! i love answering asks :D what do you want to see from the lunchbox lovers next? send them here <3

[ibukis-songbook]

*slides you a 💵*

Fluff/Smut for Asahina, Sonia, Akamatsu, Iruma, and Shirogane letting their male s\o see them:

A. Topless

B. Bottomless

C. Butt Naked

For the first time! (Can’t decide myself, so I’ll let you pick!)

(Also, bonus points if we can her something that’s unique about each of the gals bitz :)

Aoi, Sonia, Kaede, Miu, and Tsumugi letting their M!s/o see them naked/partially naked for the first time

No need to slide me cash, anon, but I appreciate the gift! This turned out to be less smexy and more just talking about the girls’ bodies in, like, an admiration kind of way. That’s pretty on par for me though, as girls make me unbelievably soft, so even in nsfw contexts my dumb little sapphic brain is like “ah. girl. soft. nice.” and boys make me go “bastard man hot and that make me bratty *pouty noise*”. I like boys, girls, and anyone outside of the binary too, because I’m pan! But they have very different effects on me, lol. If you really want a redo, I can make it more smutty for you, just lmk!

-Mod Ibuki

CW: suggestive content, boobies, ass, Megan Thee Stallion reference

.｡.:*☆♥︎♫♪—————— ↫ l l ↬ ——————♪♫♥︎☆*:.｡.

Ashnikko - Slumber Party (Tobee Paik Cover)

Aoi:

I don’t particularly feel as though Aoi is one to shy away from showing her body to her partner

Though I don’t think she’d really flaunt it much either

So the first time you see her nakey is probably because you’ve walked in on her changing.

“Oh! Good morning s/o! Oh, could you hand me my skirt? It’s on the end of the bed.”

She’s not fully naked, she’s in her underwear and a pair of panty hose, but close enough.

She’d be really chill throughout the whole thing as if it’s normal. She doesn’t really feel the need to hide from her partner so she’s not all that embarrassed.

That and she worked hard for this body!! She’s an athlete after all. She has nothing she feels she should be ashamed of.

Oogle her all you want because honestly she’s just gonna get ready for work and leave you blue balled. Homegirl has money to make.

She’ll take care of you when she gets home if you’re still a little…pent up.

In terms of what she looks like, Aoi doesn’t really have much booty, but she’s got some tiddy for her size. Her legs and arms are muscular, and she’s got some ABS, so I hope you like stronk girls (I most certainly do).

Sonia:

Ah, Sonia. Gorgeous Sonia.

I would let this woman end me but that is beyond the point.

Sonia, as a princess, now queen, has only really shown herself in the presence of a lady in waiting (as far as YOU know), and maybe a couple of female friends.

The first time you see her topless is during a heated make out session.

You ask if you can take her blouse off, and she says yes.

When you undo her bra and see her chest for the first time it’s??? Actually radiant wtf??

Then again what else do you expect from Sonia Nevermind?

Her chest isn’t super big or anything, but her boobs are a cute and perky mid-size!

Bitable, if you will.

Sonia is tall and slender, with wide shoulders and hips, a pretty average bust size for her proportions, and long legs. Soft thighs!

She got a little bit of booty! Not a lot though.

Kaede:

Aight but hear me out

Chubby Kaede and Chiaki supremacy

Kaede is shyer about her physique, so I feel like it would be an accident like Aoi, but she would be a lot more embarrassed.

She was hopping out of the shower and you didn’t realize she had just gotten out, so you went to open the bathroom door and…

You are met with the sight of Kaede full-frontal and

Goddamn

Body crazy, curvy, wavy, big tiddies

Biiiiiig tiddies

When I doodle Kaede, based on her height proportions, I draw her bust and other body parts bigger than canon because I honestly just hc her as a bigger lady!

To be fair though, I think she’s taller in the English version than she is in the Japanese version for whatever reason?

Regardless, she’s an hourglass figure with a bit of chub around the waist and she definitely has a little tummy. Also hip dips.

Overall just very squishy and cute!!!

“Oh my goodness, s/o, get out!!”

She chucks a towel at you and you shut the door, but that does not stop the raging hard-on you have from becoming an issue.

Whoops lol

Miu:

BIG OLE BOOBIE

Miu also has some pretty fuckin nice tiddies

And she will HAPPILY whip them out if you ask

Ass too. She’ll drop the panties if you give her anything close to bedroom eyes.

The first time you see her naked, she voluntarily strips for you when things start getting hot and heavy.

Miu is curvy too, but not in the way Kaede is. See, Kaede is chubby. Miu is just kinda squishy.

Both very good. All girl body good. I’m very queer, if you could not already tell.

“Betcha never been with a girl with boobs like THESE, huh s/o?!”

She’s so excited to show off her boobs omg

Tsumugi:

Okay so cosplay can be like hella uncomfortable sometimes

And like, when you’re pressed for time you skip either functionality or aesthetics, and Tsumugi unfortunately dropped the functionality of her cosplay for a convention the two of you went to for the sake of looking good on a short time limit.

Yeah, she procrastinated with this one.

So now you guys are going back to the hotel room and she’s stripping as soon as she gets in the door because the cosplay was getting really uncomfortable.

She just lays on the bed in nothing but her panties and socks, completely forgetting that she’s sharing a room with you.

Honestly though after a full two out of four days at this convention, she was so tired that she didn’t even care.

She’s also pretty tall and slender. Her body type isn’t all that different from Sonia’s, although I see her as having a bit more tiddy and a bit more ass than Sonia. Sonia has more thigh and hip though.

Since she’s tired, the moment is more wholesome-ly intimate than sexually intimate, but the next time you see her like this it is not as wholesome.

[sambuckylibrary]

MOD PICKS

Speak up. by bioloyg

T | 7.2K | n.w.a

"Outer Kiev, repurposed Hydra base, September of 2019. This is right about the time and place that everything goes to shit." ~ Just a little something about boys in love and telepathy fucking things up.

Just a cup of coffee by bioloyg

E | 2.4k | n.w.a

Despite the glass separating them, and the fear that’s rendered Bucky mute, there’s quite an intense conversation that progresses the longer they look at one another. Bucky’s eyes plea for peace and isolation, and Sam’s – they say okay. Sam finishes his sip of whatever the hell is in his cup and just looks away. Maybe that’s why Bucky goes inside anyway.

You’re Blowin’ My Mind (With the Things You Say to Me) by jemgirl

T | 2.1k | c.c.n.t.w

“Now you know I hate to get all in your business,” Sarah said, in lieu of a greeting, as she walked into the kitchen. [..]

“Yeah, since when?” Sam shot back, not even bothering to look up from the table where he was working on Redwing.

“But,” she continued sharply, choosing to ignore his remark. “I think you need to talk to your boyfriend.”

“My what?” He spat, his head snapping up to stare at her. [..]

Or: After getting an earful from Bucky at the cookout, Sarah suggests Sam and Bucky have a chat... and they do.

baby you're the wave and I'm ready for the crash by napricot | Part 1 of Series

E | 6.6k | n.w.a

“Nah, my plan’s better,” Sam declares, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what plan? Was that a plan? It didn’t sound like a plan to me, it sounded like a vague intention,” says Bucky, still scowling, and Sam grins.

“We’re winging it, the plan is a work in progress! Now c’mon, we gotta make some wardrobe adjustments if we’re gonna get into that club.”

Sam and Bucky have some unorthodox methods of going undercover in a club.

The Ever Dwindling Personal Boundaries Between Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes by dendrite_blues

E | 20k | n.w.a

Sam knows he's in trouble the first time he catches a blank stare from Bucky and thinks, dude, if you're that tired take a goddamn nap.

Because that's where he's at now, apparently. Reading the mopey merc's inscrutable expressions like he's fluent in asshole.

Mirror Mirror by ebonpen

E | 5.2k | n.w.a

“I’m gonna fuck you in front of a mirror one day...”

things you never say by glittercake

M | 8.5k | n.w.a

He turns to look at Bucky, grinning, "I dare you."

"No! Literally no!" Bucky looks over his shoulder then back at Sam nervously, keeping his distance, "Have you never heard of Adam and Eve? I'm pretty sure this is exactly how their story went."

"First of all," Sam says, wiggling his eyebrows, "They were naked. Now, listen, I'm game—"

"Oh my god."

"Anyway, chickenshit, watch this."

or, Sam messes around with stuff in the Soul Stone he shouldn't be messing around with and pays the consequences.

Start Me Up And Watch Me Go by Yavannie

E | 3.4k | n.w.a

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, “about your entire car, okay? I’ll tell you what, I’ll buy you a new one.”

“I’ve seen your apartment, Bucky: you don’t have that kind of money.” [..]

“I’ll get a loan,” he says, because he’s not above telling a white lie to keep the bickering going.

“I have. A car,” Sam says, each word sharp and precise.

“What then? What’ll it take to get you to shut up about it?” [..]

"What are you offering?" he asks.

In which Sam brings up the steering wheel thing yet again and Bucky tries to make up for it.

[mgnifiqueyoo]

Starting Over Again — ljy & ksw

Summary: - After years of trying to forget your first heartbreak, you finally met someone new. However, just as soon as you thought it's all over, the universe decides to make you face him again — the one who broke your heart, the one you loved first.

Genre: Romance Pairing(s): Lee Juyeon x Fem!Reader; Kim Sunwoo x Fem!Reader Warning: Cursing, bad writing (??), it's very long too Chapter: 3.2 ( previous // next )

I let out a sigh, knowing that it's him again. The guy who basically ditched the friend group was here in front of my house holding a pizza box. I wish that I just didn't meet him. Goddamn it. Why wouldn't he just fade away?

I made my way downstairs, taking a pause in front of my door as I thought to myself if this was even worth it. Is it worth it to see an old friend again? The doorbell rang once again, causing me to unlock the door. I later pulled the doorknob towards me, opening the door widely as his eyes met mine. He slightly took a step back, probably tilted at the fact that he's delivering pizza to my house... Maybe he's feeling overwhelmed with the changes, huh? "N/N?", Juyeon was puzzled as his mouth was slightly left open. I faked a laugh to loosen up the tension. He might've felt guilty because he left without a word, considering that we've been friends since childhood. "I didn't know that you-", before he could even finish speaking, I already thought of an answer. "Look, Juyeon, the guy who ordered made a little mistake with the delivery.", I say, scratching the back of my head in embarrassment as he chuckles. "You know, what? I'll pay for this one.", Juyeon offered as I widened my eyes. We just met again and he's already doing way too much? Typical Juyeon. What's he gonna do next? Leave the country and live in the villages of Spain? He'd most likely do that. "No, I'm paying.", I retaliated as he shook his head in disagreement. "Look, N/N, I owe you and the boys an explanation for what I did so just let me pay, please?", he pleaded, tightening his grip around the strap of his backpack as I sighed. I couldn't say no to him since I didn't want to spend money either and he did make sense. I needed an explanation... and maybe I'll explain myself, too. He handed me the pizza box as I only stood there, startled at his sudden appearance. My memories with him came back like ripples in the water at the seaside. I didn't know if it felt like I was drowning in the depths of my own guilt or if it felt relieving that he was here to explain. ~ "... Oh? Why are there only six of us? Who's not here?", I asked myself, looking around the restaurant as my arms were crossed. It's been a few months since my friends and I saw each other. Yet, there was still an unattended seat in the room, causing the levels of my anxiety to slowly rise. I made my way towards Younghoon, rubbing my arms for heat as the thoughts of Juyeon and I drifting apart made me feel nervous. "Where's... Where's Juyeon?", I asked my best friend as the man only looked away, letting out a sigh afterward. "I guess he didn't have time for us anymore.", Younghoon answered as I looked down at the ground, gulping. Was it my fault? Did he really leave because of me? ~ "Come in.", I said as he stared at me with widened eyes, cocking his head to the left as if he didn't understand what I just said. I wasn't the type to demand for an explanation. I mean, it has been five years since we spoke to each other... It's pretty reasonable for me to ask for one... Right? I left the door open for him to enter as I made my way towards my couch, placing the box of pizza on top of my coffee table. While untying the knots of the straws, Juyeon slowly went inside of my apartment, still standing in front of me. "You know, you can sit there, right?", I joked, trying to brush the tension off as he sat on the other couch at the right side of the room. "I... I'm sorry I didn't say anything...", he spoke out from the silence as I closed my eyes shut. Forget the feelings you've had for him, Y/N... Please, goddamn it. "Not a single message?", I chuckled as I couldn't help but feel bitter. I know that I couldn't control him but goddamn, we were best friends since childhood and we used to be so close... Until he avoided me and then, all of us. What the hell was wrong with him? "I'm sorry I hurt you... It was stupid of me to not tell you... I guess I just didn't know what to say.", Juyeon took a few pauses with every sentence that came out of his mouth, taking those short periods of time to just stare into me, observing my reactions. "I just didn't know how to explain it to you. God, I'm sorry for being such an asshole to you... To everyone...", he rambled, rubbing his temples with the palm of

his right hand. I could tell that he was remorseful with what he did but why couldn't he just tell us what was happening during those times he avoided us? "My parents didn't like any of you, especially my mom. She thought that you guys were just distractions- more like obstacles in the path she wanted me to take...", Juyeon trailed off, getting up from his seat as he made his way to the door. I immediately went after him, not wanting him to leave me all over again. "If you really want to fix this and start all over again... Then, stay here.", I sounded as if I was in control of my own emotions but inside, I felt like I was on my knees already. Juyeon was my best friend and what we had was... really fucking beautiful. "Let's forget what happened, okay?", I suggested, breathing in and out as I wanted to calm myself down. Juyeon stared at me with his pair of glistening eyes, later looking down at the tiles of my floor. "... Are you sure this is gonna be... normal?", he asked after a long moment of silence as I nodded eagerly. Call me desperate, sure... but I just wanted everything to be the same way again even if all that shit happened. "Alright.", he sniffled, wiping his tears away as he pulled me into an embrace. It felt like I recovered something missing in my life. I didn't know he meant so much to me until now.

////////////// texts //////////////

[ a/n: wow, i actually wrote a whole chapter now dfknjvdf i'm not really used to writing parts in smau's so i'm sorry if this one's below your expectations ;-; i'll try writing better in future chapters :// ]