#need to call my fucking job bc they won’t contact me like they said they would… and collect a bunch of internships i want to apply for with

[bravevolunteer]

hello everyone i am going to try and have a relatively productive day after rot weekend ( + monday ) so i’m gonna be doing some tasks before i come on here to hopefully write a little more and get to plotting/messages i just haven’t had the energy for my bad-

[mywritingonlyfans]

One Shot with Ethan Torchio // It's a bit Fluffly, Smut and Angsty

prompt: in which, ethan always need/visit you when he's not in tour + casual sex(?) with ethan tying you up so you don't touch him i'm telling you this but isn't a hardcore smut

warnings: it's smut. a fluffly kinda sexy(?)maybe it's just sexy bc it's ethan smut ig fem!reader

(he is so hot. i'm crying all my tears, and that's fucking pathetic.)

Your head hurt, you knew your face was probably red due to your desire to go home and cry, but yet, your friends convinced you to go out for a drink. According to them nothing was too bad that a beer couldn’t improve, you doubted it.

Somehow, you found yourself happy to have accepted.

You didn’t know Ethan was back in town, you briefly wondered why you didn’t know, since he always contacted you when he was near (or at least that was what it seemed to be). Still, you were glad to see him. He was always able to make things better, even if only for a short period of time; which in your case was very short one as he wasn’t yours to have.

Ethan complemented your friends, they were all too familiar to him. He hugged you, giving a small kiss to your head while sitting next to you. Suddenly, you felt like a stronger drink would do you good.

It wasn’t hard to tell what was going to happen in the next few hours, after a couple of years going through that, you knew the time you spent together would always be the same. You guessed that you were able to put his head in place, just as he did with yours; and that's why he always came back to you. You'd never be able to tell if it was luck or mischance.

“Was it too hard to find me?” You asked him.

By now, your friends had moved to another corner. “I mean, I’m not complaining, I’m glad you did.” You offered him a weak smile. He did the same.

He looked tired, yet deadly cute.

He shuffled his chair closer to yours, letting his leg touch your bare knee. “Not really, Victoria said she called you in the morning, then told me that you intended to visit here for the night,” he mumbled, signaling to the bartender that he needed a beer, and so did you.

“She’s a gossip,” you wrinkled your nose, causing him to provide offer you a nasal laugh that you had learned to find lovely over the years. “But what has been happenin’ in your life lately? You’re good?” You tried to sound casual, but deep down you knew he wasn’t there entirely for you. Something was bothering him, he was looking for someone to rest on.

“Pretty much the same,” he sighed heavily. He wasn’t tired just physically. “We finished the last album, I feel exhausted.”

He looked at you like a lost puppy, watching your face, analyzing if you were in the mood to listen to him, or even if you were okay with having him around. After all, he came to you out of nowhere.

He’d never make you uncomfortable around him, maybe he hadn't noticed that yet. “C’mon, let it all out. I haven’t seen you for too many months for you to deprive me of the details.”

“If I tell you,” he pondered, “ you’ll tell me why you have a runny nose to match your watery eyes?” He poked your cheek, dragging his fingers so he could put some strands of hair back in place.

His seat was now so close to you that you'd be able to rest your head on his shoulder if you wanted to without creating any bodily discomfort.

“I guess life just hasn’t been all that gentle with me lately.” You giggled at him. “I lost my job last week, the same life shit is goin’ on as usual, and when I finally managed to move to a decent place, I’ll now be actually going back to sharin' apartment with strangers, because, y’know, I can’t afford bein’ in there anymore.”

Ethan was quiet for a while, you needed him more than he needed you. Listening to you made him realize how his worries were nothing at all. He knew that you didn't mind sharing an apartment with someone, but the loss of perspective was always tough.

Without further thinking, he pulled you to himself, fluffing your hair and holding you tight in his grip. You didn’t cry, yet it was possible to read your emotions. It was little, but Ethan knew you.

You took your head off his chest while he still had his arm around your waist. Taking a deep breath, you stared at your laced fingers, feeling it slow down. “I guess it’s all happenin’ at the same time, I’m just not sure how to handle it at the moment,” he held your face in his hand, his mouth close to yours as he ran his fingertips over your chin, until his lips were on you.

He was soft and wet, he had the same taste you still had etched in your mind, at that moment it seemed to be all you needed. He let go slowly, distributing pecks on the corners of your mouth, letting his forehead rest against yours.

You two stayed like that for a few minutes and you could bet that anyone who passed by could see how much of a fool you were for him. You tried not to think about it too much, it was better to have little of him than to have nothing. “Ethan?”

“Huh?” He murmured with his eyes closed, giving your lips a tickling sensation.

“Kiss me more,” and then he did. Ethan was holding you in place while your hands intertwined around his neck. You played with the chain of his necklace, savoring the touch of his tongue on yours, focusing only on him while pulling at his hair to hear his soft moans.

It didn’t take long for the bartender to come get your attention. You laughed nervously against him, you were embarrassed because you didn’t even remember where you were, still Ethan seemed untouchable about it. He wasn’t one to be embarrassed over small things like that, at least not with you. The bartender was quite irritated with the two of you and just now you noticed that your drinks had arrived and hadn’t even been touched; he was rightly pissed.

Ethan stood up, lifting you up with him. You looked in your pockets for your money, but then Ethan said it was okay and that he’d pay. You would argue, yet any money left over would be welcome. You held both beers in hand as he paid, thanking the old lady for the service, still feeling your skin burning with embarrassment, and then headed outside to wait for Ethan.

“Are you drivin’?” He asked, laughing at your state of awkwardness.

You bumped into his shoulder slightly, laughing along with him. “I am not, I’m living nearby,” you whispered as he put his hand inside your skirt pocket, bringing you to his side for a walk. “In the apartment that soon won’t be mine… how ‘bout you?”

“Not drivin’, I thought about staying somewhere to spend the night.”

He was close to home, but not that close, it would take about 3 hours to get to where he lives; it seemed plausible that he wanted to stay. “Are you only here because of me?” You risked asking.

“Yeah,” he took his hand out of your pocket and ran it through his hair. “I didn’t think it‘d be a bad idea.”

There was a silence, but it was far from being uncomfortable. “You know you can stay with me.”

——————-

Considering that you were in the process of moving to another place your house was a bit of a mess. Ethan wouldn’t be bothered by that, somehow your instinct of wanting things always in place - aka Monica from Friends - made you wander around the space in an attempt to make Ethan at home.

“What ‘bout the new album?” You asked, dragging one of the boxes away from him. It wouldn’t even bother anyone, but the thought that it would be in the middle of the room while someone was at your house bothered you.

“I don’t really know, I feel anxious about releasin’ it. It’s not that I don’t want to release it or am afraid of doing so, far from that, it's just, I don’t know… ” His voice fell silent, lost in his thoughts.

You turned to him, wanting to ask him what he had said, after all, that didn’t sound like Ethan, you felt as his hands touched your hips, pulling you on his lap. “Y'know I don’t care about your mess, right? Just, please, stop walkin’ 'round the house dragging boxes.” He said with his face close to your neck, hugging you from behind. His warm breath was in contact with your soft skin, providing heat to your body. Well, there was a minimal percentage chance that you were trying to make the place look good for Ethan, just because he made you a little nervous.

“Okay, fine. I’m fine,” you exhaled, turning to face him. He was smiling with his eyes almost closing; he still looked tired, but at least you were improving his mood. “You know you’re good at what you do, Ethan. You shouldn’t worry 'bout those things.” You held on to his shoulders, breaking something that could turn out to be a pity silence.

He squeezed your thigh at the same time as he laughed humorlessly at your words. “I know that. I guess that this is the short time they gave us to finish the album – it was drivin’ me crazy. The album isn’t bad, not at all, it’s honestly very good. Dami did a incredible job, still if it weren’t for the time it could have been even better. That’s crazy how I’m still letting myself get stressed over this, don’t you think?” He vented, moving his hands up your skirt.

“I know it’ll be good, I can’t think of anything you did that ended up bad!” You ran your fingers over his covered shoulders, down to his chest, going to the first open button of his t-shirt. “But if it’s just stress I can help you.”

He lubed his lips, nodding assiduously, putting you properly on top of him. That way, you were stuck to his body, feeling the rough of his jeans along with the zipper against your underwear. You gulped as he held your face, sealing your lips with his. You were relieved he always guided you through that; the leading up part was way better when it came from him.

You unbuttoned the rest of his shirt in middle of sloppy kisses and grips. Running your hand over his belly, tracing your fingers to the back of his neck while moving your hips lightly. You lugged on his hair, pulling him away to catch your breath. You opened your eyes to find Ethan with a deep pink mouth and brown eyes more intense than normal, at that moment you could have sworn that he was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on. You spread his shirt to the sides, sensing your body getting hotter, when Ethan smirked at your rush, managing to hold both of your hands behind you; stopping you in place.

“No need to rush, we have plenty of time,” he clenched you in his hands. You arched your back, breathing heavily at each touch of his fingers on your wrists.

He ran his nose over your neck, placing kisses and bites on the way to your collarbone, leaving wet tracks that would later turn into dark marks.

Your legs ached from that position, the couch wasn’t the best, but feeling Ethan getting hard under you as you writhed yourself against him, made you want to stay there for as long as he wanted you to. It was crazy to think that at the beginning of the day you were sure that the rest of it would be a pure disaster, and now being spoiled by Ethan’s lips your worries seemed to fade away.

Temporary as that would be, you were determined to give him your all, making his and yours next hours one of the best escapes from both of you. Unnecessary to say that you were lost in your own mind by now, craving for having his strands in-between your fingers, wanting him tugged into you furiously, causing you to ache. Your mouth was ajar, your vision was just white dots as he played with your sensitive skin, driving you insane. Ethan paralyzed when his grip became too strong around your fists and you got louder than usual.

“D’you like that?” He did it again, but this time pushing your body backward. He kept his devilish grin on his face, watching you from top to bottom. You bit your lips, containing your noises to yourself. Such an angel in his eyes. “Up, babe. I need to see something.” He didn’t let you answer, not as if he needed to. You stood up in front of him, legs shaking with your head definitely not in the right place. “Undress.” He rested his elbows on his knees.

His face was serious, and you didn’t see any problem in obeying his voice, but perhaps, due to the lack of his body being glued to yours, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it when I tell you what to do,” He caught you by the hem of your underwear, helping to take it off while you got rid of your blouse. “Especially, when I just got you off my lap, almost unconscious 'cause of some kisses to your soft neck, pet.” He added, drawing circles on the inside of your thigh, smoothly going up to your center.

You felt your breath come to a halt. “You’re just too bossy.” You teased, confirming that your breathing was faulty.

He patted his nose over the damp stain of the fabric, placing a kiss there. “And you love it.” He pecked you a few more times, teasing you by running his fingers on the edges as putting the cloth to the side; never touching you where you needed him.

Almost involuntarily you took hold of his hair, bringing him closer to your core. And then, you understood his previous question, it wasn’t just about not being able to touch him, but also about the power he was having over you.

He cut his actions short and got up, hovering over you. “Tonight, you won’t be allowed to touch me, all right?!” He whispered, tossing your hair behind your ear.

That’d be comical in any other situation, yet with his body and eyes fixed on your frame you felt in his domain.

You nodded, diving into the way he pulled at the hair on the nape of your neck firmly so that you were looking at him. “Go on, babe,” He insisted on having the words he wanted.

“Yes, it’s all right, Ethan,” it was far from all right, you couldn’t do that. How could you go without touching, making a mess of his hair or marking your nails on his back?

“That’s my girl,” he praised you in between sighs.

He was excited while your face was overflowing with nervousness; not out of fear, but out of curiosity. He finished removing his shirt and indicated with his fingers for you to lie down on the couch.

You shut your eyes tight, with his voice echoing 'my girl’ in your mind, Ethan was lugging your wrists above your head as you did what he told you to do. He tied them with his shirt. “Is this hurtin’ you? Are you comfortable?” He tightened it in a knot.

Your head and elbows were on the arm of the couch, only your hands were unsupported. Although you weren’t uncomfortable, it was to be expected that pain would appear the next day; it’d be worth it. “No, it’s fine. I’m good.” You assured him as he knelt beside the couch, running his hands down your torso, making you squirm.

He went down to the hem of your underwear, taking it off with the help of your legs kicking the lace away. “Good then,” he warbled, pattering lines on your pubic hair. “Needy and in your proper place.”

“Bastard,” you swore through clenched teeth.

He grinned, admiring how your breast rose and fell in a quick but punctual rhythm while your hips fidgeted at his touch. You looked like a piece of art he had just created, swollen lips, filled in lovely marks on the collarbone. He found himself in need to concentrate on his breathing while watching you, to control his pulse as he reached his fingertips to your pussy.

“Ethan” you breathed out, forcing your fists. “Go on, please,”

With that, he held your hands, forcing them down and slid a finger inside you. Your lips opened in a sigh and he took the opportunity to kiss you, running his tongue over your bottom lip and nipping it to his mouth, keeping things on a slow pace.

You wanted to hold his hand, make him go faster or be able to pull the locks of his hair until he understood how much you wanted him, but you had no way of doing that, and you knew he was just doing that to provoke you.

His lips traveled over your neck again, this time giving light kisses, blowing air on the soft fresh he had left in there.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he said without even opening his eyes, delighting in your skin as he sped up, now rubbing his thumb gently over your bud.

You whispered something almost inaudible that Ethan recognized as his name. He raised his head, coming face a face to you. “Right there, huh?” He asked, focusing on the spot that was blurring your vision.

You groaned. The satisfying delight running through your veins. You closed your legs, wishing you could hold on to his body, but all he did was laugh, shoving his fingers leisurely into you.

“No, no Ethan,” you looked at him properly, thinking that if you hadn’t been with your wrists tied you’d have slapped his chest.

He wiped his hand on your thigh, and stood up slipping his jeans down his legs along with his underwear. You sighed at him, stretching your arms, staring at the ceiling to disguise yourself. Not that it was necessary, Ethan was already too much of a show-off when it came to you for your liking.

“You good? How’s your arms?” He doubted, getting on top of you.

He had his hair damp, falling over the spots on his forehead. Some of his locks was glued to his chest and his golden pendant dangled in front of your eyes. For a split second, you though about saying that you missed him, but you were wise enough to know better than doing such a thing.

“If I say that I’m not good. Are you goin’ to untie me?”

He pressed his chest to yours, your body sticking to his since you were both sweaty.

“Not even a chance,” He stroked your neck with his thumb, up and down, with a silly look on his face.

You grunted as soon as you felt how solid hard he was against your thigh, he aligned himself in-between your knees, holding on to your shoulders, and without hesitation he filled you up. Your body tingled and your voice failed, causing a silent moan to slip from your lips. His head fell over the crook of your neck and you could feel how dysrhythmic his breathing was. His warm body along with his breath hitting on your neck added a pleasant feeling in your stomach, leaving you dizzy under him.

“Move Ethan,” you tried to sound understandable, embracing his waist with your legs.

He thrusted deeply in you, leaving a breathed sigh of relief in your ears. You stretched out your arms, tightening your thighs around him. He held the shirt in your hands, preventing it from coming loose.

“No, I wanna touch you,” you whined.

“You will, just be patient, babe,” he squeezed your wrists in his hand.

Closing your eyes, you enjoyed the way his body was over yours, every movement and every delicate touch.

He went slowly at first, making sure you were taking all of him before going faster. Once he felt your walls clenching around him, he murmured a breathless 'fuck’, letting go of your hands so that you could finally feel him. You dug your nails into his back, kneading your body against his at the same time as he hugged you.

As you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you, with an intense gaze, building you up to feel sexy and wanted.

Both of you were a mess; sweaty and sticky. You felt a tingling ecstasy take all over your body, your toes twitching as you emptied yourself into him. He kept working on you until his body collapsed into yours, filling you up to perfection.

The last thing you remembered was having your fingers entwined in his hair, patting at it slightly as he whispered sweet nothing against your skin; just like a lullaby.

———–-------

You woke up to the noise of the television, trying to adjust your vision to the brightness of the daylight. Failing to stretch, you felt how sore your body was.

Your eyes searched for Ethan, finding him sitting opposite to you with a lazy smile and a cup of tea in hands, his attention was all on you. Friends was playing on the television, but you doubted he was really watching it.

“Good mornin’ babe,” his husky voice echoed through the room. It was the best thing to hear in the morning. “How’s it? Hurtin’?” He asked when you started examining your marked wrists.

He was fully dressed and although you weren’t, he had managed to get a sheet to cover you.

“Good mornin’. It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt,” you mumbled, scratching your eyes, curling up on the sheet. “How long will you be stayin’ in town?”

“Not long,” he paused thoughtfully. You already expected that he wouldn’t be with you for long, still sometimes you liked to think that it’d last longer than just a few days before he disappeared to another continent. “I need to go home in a few minutes, I’m going to take a flight at night to adjust the final details of the album.”

“Sounds nice,” you wanted to have the courage to tell him how he made things in your life look just right, as if he were some kind of piece missing from your puzzle. “I can’t wait to hear it, hear what your great fingers are capable of.” You ignored your thoughts. He laughed.

However, you truly believed that not saying anything was a wise move.

He lifted a cup from one of the boxes next to him, holding it out to you. “I made one for you too, I hope you don’t mind.”

You didn’t mind it, in fact, you loved the way he made himself at home so quickly. The home that soon wouldn’t be yours anymore. You wished Ethan could remedy your worries for more than just one night.

“Thank you,” you took the still warm drink in your hands, looking at him as if he were part of your decor. “You can smoke in here, I don’t mind that either,” you spoke up. You couldn’t even imagine that he’d have gone without lighting a cigarette all morning.

“The place is all clean, and smells nice. I bet you never lit one yourself, I wouldn’t do that.” He was right.

“Well, y'know that I don’t care about the smell, I just don’t see the need to leave the house impregnated with it.” You explained, remembering that Ethan’s house was a perfect description of that smell, yet you loved his place.

“I know this is going to sound strange,” he started. “But if you can’t find a place in time to live in… you can stay at mine, I mean, you know I am never home and as I’ll be travelin’ you could make yourself at home.”

He said it casually, and you knew he wasn’t lying, if you wanted to he wouldn't even think twice about letting you stay at his.

“No need, I’ll be fine. I do appreciate it though.” you took a sip of your now cold drink.

He bobbed, checking what you thought could be the time on his phone.

“You have to go, I guess?” You asked, your soft voice revealing you didn’t want that.

“I need to,” he gave you a small smile, getting up. “It’s gettin’ a bit late for me.”

“I see,” you went to him, adjusting the sheet on your body, feeling ridiculous for still being undressed. “I guess I’ll see you, right?” You added it while he picked up your stuff on the couch; keys, wallet and the pack of cigarettes. There was no answer for your question.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, heading to the door. “You could come and visit, spend a few days with us. It’d be nice.”

“On tour? Like a groupie?” You wrinkled your nose. His arms wrapping around you. You’d miss it.

He squeezed you into his chest, his tiny beard tickling your cheek. “You know you are much more than just a groupie for me, Y/N.”

You didn’t answer that. He pulled away and for a second you thought he was going to kiss you, but he didn’t.

“See ya Y/N,” instead, he kissed the top of your head. “Think about it, both about comin’ to visit and also about needing a place to stay for a while.”

“I’m sure I will, thank you Ethan,” you watched him, from his rumpled shirt to dark circles under his eyes. He’d always have a special space in your heart. “I guess I’ll see ya then.”

>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<

taglist ( 'cause someone actually wanted to be tagged, i didn't even force anyone😁): @maybanksslut , @oro-e-diamanti

[mizunetzu]

Atsumu + Alcohol

If you make him drunk, I will hug you. Also, glad to see you’re back! :>

He’s drunk. Hug me. Now. But ehehe it makes me happy that you’re glad I’m back :,) NOW HERES DRUNK ATSUMU!

Also only @shiny-bun wanted to be tagged sobs reeeeeaaaal confidence booster I know :,)

——————

Atsumu x reader - Sweet, Sweet Lies Called Drunk Miya Atsumu

⚠️warnings - mentions of alcohol through the fic. reader records videos of atsumu drunk whenever he sees him. It isn’t in a sexual way at all; and reader doesn’t touch atsumu unconsentually at all. Just likes to watch him drunk bc he loves him still :,)

Also: FUCKING ANGST. you know it’s fuckign angsty when I got emotional writing it. Also, grammarly proof read it don’t trust it.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

“I think we should break up.” 

(Y/n) blinked, before down casting his head. He said nothing for a while, before opening his mouth again bluntly.

“...ok.”

Atsumu furrowed his brows. He gripped the coffee mug resting on the cafe table just a bit harder. He certainly wasn’t expecting that answer. “...Ya aren’t gonna ask why? Yer just ok with it?”

“Well,” (Y/n) emotionlessly bit into a small biscuit. His expression was unreadable, blank like a piece of paper. “It’s not like I can change your mind, ‘Tsumu.”

“But...can I at least know why?”

The two went silent. Atsumu pursed his lips, trying to find the words to say while (Y/n) sat there expectantly. Eventually, Atsumu looked back up from his coffee mug.

“S’a lot of reasons, I think. ‘M busy with volleyball, ‘specially since it’s my job now,” Atsumu chuckled awkwardly. It was true, with the Black Jackals, he was being paid to do something he loved. “And...I...”

“I think I found a girl I really like.”

(Y/n) looked down at his lap numbly. He already knew it was coming, he wasn’t blind to the faint lipstick marks Atsumu tried to wipe away when he came home, or the smell of expensive perfume that stained him when he would come back from ‘practice’. He knew, he knew yet...

“Ah.”

Was all he could say.

——

Atsumu downed his third can of cheap beer, hissing loudly and slamming it down on the bar.

“I hate life! M’gonna fuckin’...! Run away and shit!”

Sakusa hummed. “Oh no. What happened now.”

Loud, irritating club music blared through the bar’s speakers. Atsumu slumped over the counter, making Sakusa and Bokuto lean back.

“Oi! ‘Tsum-Tsum! What’s wrong buddy?” Bokuto poked repeatedly at Atsumu’s head, making him groan and pathetically try and flick his hand away.

“M’...M’so sad...” Atsumu whimpered. Sakusa rolled his eyes while Bokuto frowned. Atsumu continued to mumble sadly into his arms until he slowly became more agitated, and whipped his drunken head up. 

“Shoyo’s got a nice boyfriend! That fuckin’...Kodzuken youtuber dude! Why can’t I! If I were Shoyo, I’d be laying on my boyfriend’s lap and bein’ all cute and shit —but here I am! Fuckin’ drinkin’ and bitchin’ and fuckin’...fuck! Fuckin’ Shoyo! Fuckin’ Kodzuken! Fuckin’—”

“But didn’t you just break up with that girl you were seeing for like, months now? Thought you were straight, man!” Bokuto said, playing with the little garnish on his drink. Atsumu deadpanned, swallowing thickly before letting his head thump down onto the table. 

“Thought I was. M’gayer than if unicorns shat me out.”

Sakusa sipped on his fancy, green drink. “Is this about (L/n)-san, again-“

“‘Course it’s about (Y/n)!”

Atsumu waved at the bartender to grab him another drink. The bartender looked him up and down, before shrugging and leaving off to grab another beer. Sakusa looked at Atsumu with a disappointed expression.

“You do realize that every time we drink, you get shit-faced drunk, complain about (L/n)-san, call (L/n)-san, then he picks you up and you wake up in his house because he’s too nice to refuse to pick you up. And you regret and bitch to me every single time.” Sakusa closed his eyes and took a long sip from his drink. “Honestly I don’t know why I still come with you guys if I know it’s gonna end up like this.”

“Hey! ‘Tsum-Tsum has his problems and he’s just letting them out!” Bokuto defensively waved his arms around, gesturing to Atsumu on the table, laying down his head in his arms. Both Sakusa and Bokuto were pretty sure he was ugly sobbing. Or at least babbling nonsense that sounded like sobs.

“He can’t even sit up straight. And Miya-san was the one who broke up with (L/n)-san for another girl. He has no right to be complaining.”

“S-Still! ‘Tsumu’s the homie! Let him rant!” Bokuto chugged down his drink. 

Sakusa fished his phone out of his pocket. He scrolled down his list of contacts, before clicking on one that read ‘(L/n)-san. (Atsumu’s pick-me-up)’. The phone’s screen turned black, displaying (Y/n’s) profile pic with a ‘contacting...’ right under it in fine print. 

“Sure, Bokuto-san. Whatever you want.”

——

“Fuckin’...let go of me, Omi!” Atsumu slurred. He, however, made no attempt to push Sakusa off as he dragged him outside the bar. Bokuto had long gone, and Atsumu was a few drinks overdue for his trip home. 

Sakusa sighed, standing out in the cold with his mask pulled up to his face. Atsumu lolled his head onto Sakusa’s shoulder, either in an attempt to push him off or just pure drunkenness. “Don’t drool on me, Miya-san.” Sakusa cringed.

Atsumu was about to retort back, until both his and Sakusa’s attention was drawn to a home-y, black car that pulled up right in front of them. The driver’s door clicked open, and someone in a baggy sweater and sweatpants emerged from the car. 

“Please take him, (L/n)-san. I’m sorry for always calling you to-”

“It’s fine!” (Y/n) chuckled, opening the passenger’s side door for Sakusa to throw Atsumu’s body in. “‘Tsumu’s been drinking a lot, huh? Isn’t this the third time this month I had to pick him up?” 

Atsumu groaned when Sakusa clipped in his seatbelt. He sighed when Atsumu began tugging at it like a child, not knowing how to unbuckle it himself. “Actually, it’s the fourth time. But he has a reason today, I think.”

“He finally broke up with Yumena-san.”

Breath hitched in (Y/n’s) throat. He covered his shock up with a smile, however, and closed the car door with Atsumu in it. “Aw. Well, I better uh, drive him home, now. Bye-bye, Sakusa-kun.”

Sakusa nodded. (Y/n) stepped into his car tentatively. Ignoring the way Atsumu was still tugging at his seatbelt, he started up the car, and drove. 

“I’m...sure you won’t mind sleeping over at my place again...right, ‘Tsumu?” (Y/n) mumbled, more to himself than to the drunktard sprawled out onto his car seat. He silently unlocked his phone, tapping on the camera app and propping his phone up on his dash. He hit record, and withdrew his hand back to the steering wheel. Atsumu eyed it suspiciously, before shrugging it off sleepily.

“Naaaah…” Atsumu slurred. He threw his head haphazardly onto the armrests separating his seat from (Y/n’s), trying to get as close to his ex as possible. “Yer apartment smells good...I miss it...I miss you…”

Shifting so he was still laying on the armrest, Atsumu tucked his arm under his head like a pillow. “Yer so...pretty…love you so much...”

(Y/n) pursed his lips. Atsumu smiled dumbly, pointing a finger gun at (Y/n). “We should-you and I should like, totally get back together n’ shit…” Atsumu stopped, letting out a hiccup, before continuing. “I miss you...n’ I love you…”

Stopping at a red light, (Y/n) looked down at Atsumu, who was staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. (Y/n) averted his gaze, chuckling awkwardly. “...You don’t mean that. You’re just drunk.”

Atsumu shot up. “But I do! M’so sad without you!” Atsumu loosened his seatbelt enough so he could rest his face on (Y/n’s) forearm. “You were the best thing in my life, n’ I need you back! I love you so muuuuuuch!”

(Y/n) stayed quiet for a second, glancing at his camera pointed directly at Atsumu nuzzling his face into his arm. He slowed the car to a stop, taking out his keys and pressing the ‘Stop’ button on his phone. He slipped both of them into his pockets.

“We’re here. C’mon, get up.” (Y/n’s) voice was barely above a whisper. After sitting in his car for a while, he finally got up, and walked over to the other side to haul Atsumu’s corpse-of-a-body out of his seat. “Fuck...sometimes I wish my apartment wasn’t on the third floor-’Tsumu! You can walk if I support you, right? I’m not carrying you.”

Atsumu pressed all his weight against (Y/n). “What if I want my boyfriend to carry me like a princess n’ shit…”

“I’m-” (Y/n) swallowed. His voice was quiet and shaky again. “I’m not your boyfriend. You say stupid things when you’re drunk...”

Atsumu was about to protest, when (Y/n) looped his arm under his own arm. 

“Let’s go. You need rest.”

The walk to (Y/n’s) apartment was silent.

——

Atsumu pouted, eyeing down the way Kenma was showing a video on his phone to Hinata and smiling. Hinata grinned widely, his eyes glued to Kenma’s phone screen until an obnoxious sigh drew his eyes away. 

“Why’d ya even invite me here...M’just third wheelin’ on yer guys's little date time.” Atsumu frowned, dramatically slumping in his seat. Kenma hunched his shoulders down, suddenly becoming very aware of the way Atsumu not-so-subtly stared him down. He brought his coffee cup to his lips, trying to hide behind the cup itself. 

Hinata defensively wrapped his arms around Kenma. “Oiiiii! We invited you over because you always get super-duper depressed after waking up hungover at (L/n’s)!”

“I’m more depressed now that yer all cuddly-wuddly with yer frickin’ boyfriend while m’sitting here with my single ass!”

“Miya wakes up hungover at (Y/n’s)?” Kenma quietly asked Hinata. He nodded. Atsumu started flailing his arms around, trying to get Hinata to stop talking, but he didn’t seem to take the hint.

“Every time he goes drinking, he ends up crying about how much he still loves (L/n)—and ends up either calling him or someone else calls him to go pick him up. Either way, he wakes up super embarrassed and awkward in (L/n’s) bed and sulks the rest of the time at practice.” 

Atsumu sat there, feeling like he’d been shoved to the front of a volleyball court completely naked. Kenma blinked, before looking down again.

“Oh.”

“That’s all yer gonna say-!?”

“I guess it kind of makes sense, now.”

Atsumu stopped mid-sentence, looking at Kenma with a confused expression. Kenma tried to dodge Atsumu’s eyes again, this time tugging on Hinata’s sleeve.

“...What makes sense now?”

Kenma had the look of ‘I said too much.’, trying to change the topic or hoping Hinata would swoop in and change it for him. But alas, no such thing happened. “I don’t think (Y/n) would…”

Hinata suddenly tugged back at Kenma’s sweatshirt, gesturing to turn around with him for a private conversation. They both turned their heads, mumbling out little ‘video-!’, ‘(Y/n)-!’ and ‘Atsumu-!’s here and there. Atsumu glanced from Hinata, to Kenma, before pouting that he’d been left out of the conversation.

Eventually, both Kenma and Hinata turned around again, looking directly at Atsumu. He stared back at them with doe-like confused eyes, when Kenma fished out his phone. 

“If we show you, you promise to act like you never knew at all?” Hinata childishly extended his pinky finger out to Atsumu, to which he nodded vigorously and hooked his own pinky with his. Kenma piped up.

“The reason I said it made sense was because I found a folder in (Y/n’s) phone titled, and I quote: ‘Sweet, Sweet, Lies called Drunk Miya Atsumu (watch when sad)’. They’re filled with video’s of you, drunk, blabbing about how much you love him.”

Atsumu stared at Kenma.

“Yer fuckin’ lyin’.”

“I’m...really not.” Kenma turned his phone screen around, displaying a video filmed in what seemed to be (Y/n’s) car. Atsumu leaned down and peered at the video, seeing his head frozen in place in the corner of the screen. Kenma felt around for the play button, tapping until it started playing. 

Atsumu watched the video in horror, his face going milk white as he watched himself cry and sob about how much he wanted to get back with (Y/n). Right in front of him. The video ended, and Atsumu looked up with the hope of getting hit with a bus. 

“How...did you get-”

“I airdropped this one to myself when (Y/n) was in the bathroom one day because I found this one funny.” Kenma mumbled, turning his phone around and inspecting the screen. “There’s millions of them on his phone, this one isn’t even the worst. Some of them are in his apartment when he’s trying to get you into bed, and I think there’s one where you beg him to cuddle with yo-”

“Stop! Stop! No more!” Atsumu covered his face, embarrassed. Kenma let his mouth fall shut, while Hinata snickered into his drink. Atsumu let his head smack onto the table. “What did I do to deserve this…”

“Hey!” Hinata quipped, his positive voice making Atsumu’s brain hurt. “You know what that means, right?”

“That (Y/n) probably wants blackmail or revenge on me for breaking up with him?” Atsumu grumbled into his hands.

“Wh-no, what,” Kenma said. “He means-”

“(L/n) still loves you! I mean-he saves videos of you saying you love him to watch when he is sad or lonely or whatever, that means he loves you still! It was even in the title!”

Atsumu glared at Hinata like he was squinting at the sun. Kenma shrugged. 

“S’true. He told me himself he watches them when he goes to sleep n’stuff.”

“Yer lyin’.”

“Was he lying when he showed you the video?” Hinata raised his eyebrow. 

Atsumu opened his mouth, before letting it clamp shut and shaking his head ‘no’.

——

Clinging to his side like a kicked puppy, (Y/n) found himself nursing a drunk, sobbing Atsumu at his apartment once more. 

“Tsum-” (Y/n) struggled to stick his key in his door’s keyhole with the way Atsumu was quite literally hanging off him. It was like he was trying to pull (Y/n) to the ground with him. “Atsumu! I’m trying to-”

“Don’t leaaaaave meeee! I love you!” Atsumu sobbed. He wiped his messy face onto (Y/n’s) jacket. 

Finally sticking the key inside and turning it, (Y/n) pushed open the door and patted at Atsumu’s ruffled hair. “I’m not leaving, ‘Tsumu. Just taking you to bed, is all. We’re still...friends...I think.”

“Don’t wanna be your friend.” Atsumu sniffled, as he staggered into (Y/n’s) room with the support of his body. He was thrown on the bed with a loud groan, as (Y/n) went to grab his phone. “We were meant to be together...boyfriends...soulmates…!”

“I wish you meant that,” (Y/n) chuckled, setting up his phone, pointing it at his bed and pressing record. “Gave it up after the fifth time you came here sloppy drunk, though. It really is just you talking out of your ass.”

The hint of bitterness in (Y/n’s) voice increased unsteadily, wavering like a candlelight. “I-I mean, you say all these nice things-then the next morning you either deny everything you said, or leave before I can even say goodbye! Or you don’t even remember most of the time!”

(Y/n’s) disgruntled laugh made Atsumu blink. He eventually simmered down, looking down at the floor and busying himself with searching through his desk. 

“That’s okay though. I have these little videos of your lies to keep me company. I can live with that just fine.” (Y/n) turned to Atsumu, holding up painkillers and setting them atop the desk. “...Sorry for problem-dumping on you, ‘Tsumu. I know you want sleep.”

“Don’t take these yet. They’re for tomorrow.” (Y/n) rattled the painkillers in their box, before producing a water bottle and extending it to Atsumu. He looked at the bottle like it was some foreign object. The water sloshed around when (Y/n) swirled it around Atsumu’s face. “It’s for your hangover tomorrow. Drink up, ‘Tsum-Tsum.”

“Only if you cuddle with me.”

(Y/n) pursed his lips. “No.”

“Then m’not drinkin’ the fuggin’ water!”

“Atsum-!” (Y/n) sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He set down the bottle of water on his nightstand, and rested his hands on his hips. “...If I give you a tiny hug, will you drink all the water and go to sleep?”

Atsumu nodded vigorously.

(Y/n) expected him to stand up and give him a hug, but instead, he opened his arms and sat expectantly, waiting for something to crawl between them. He was so far back on the bed, (Y/n) would probably have to lay awkwardly in his chest until he was satisfied.

So that's what (Y/n) did, after what felt like hours of contemplating and clenched jaws. He bit his lip, climbing slowly towards Atsumu on the bed. Atsumu smiled dumbly, and scooped him up in his arms like a claw machine. 

What Atsumu didn’t expect, was (Y/n) to stiffen up, surprised, before melting into his arms pathetically. He clumsily wrapped his arms around Atsumu’s torso, his body curling into the shape of his own like dough. He let his head slump in the crook of Atsumu’s neck, taking in a shaky, deep breath and sighing heavier than he meant to. 

(Y/n) figured he must’ve forgotten how much he relished being wrapped up in Atsumu’s arms, because he found himself not wanting to let go of Atsumu’s shirt that reeked of alcohol.

Still, after what was probably only a few candid seconds, (Y/n) pushed himself away from Atsumu, who slumped back on the bed confused, and wobbled his way back onto his feet. 

“There…” (Y/n) breathed. He had the most unreadable expression, and his voice was quiet and raspy. “Now-now drink th-the water...you promised.” 

Atsumu shrugged, swiping the water from the nightstand, and chugging it sloppily. (Y/n) went to work removing Atsumu’s socks, pants, and other things uncomfy to sleep in, until he was left in his boxers and t-shirt. Atsumu stared at (Y/n) sleepily, as he grabbed a spare pillow and blanket, and threw them on the swivel chair near his desk.

“...Y-Yer not gonna sleep here with me?”

(Y/n) furrowed his eyebrows, reaching over to stop his phone from recording, and curled up on the chair with his pillow. His voice was meek under the thin blanket he wrapped himself in. “You always ask, and i’ll always say no. Honestly I don’t know why you keep asking.”

“You look cold.”

“I’m...really not.”

“S’comfier on the bed.”

“...I like this chair.”

“I can scoot over-”

“Miya, if I give in and cuddle with you, everythings gonna be sunshine and rainbows ‘til the next morning—where you wake up next to me and regret everything! I’m-i’m trying to save your dignity here so stop asking!” (Y/n) croaked. He clutched his blanket tighter. “You’re drunk! You aren’t thinking! I already gave your-your stupid hug so stop it! How do you think I feel!?”

Atsumu rubbed at his head. (Y/n’s) hot face immediately flushed out, his voice quieting down back into his normal voice. 

“Ah...I’m...sorry. You’re...tired and I probably shocked you with my-by being loud n’stuff.” (Y/n) bowed his head slightly, before shifting away from Atsumu in his little swivel chair. “Sorry. Go to sleep now. Night, ‘Tsumu.”

When he heard shifting on the bed, (Y/n) grabbed his earphones and turned out the light. Plugging in his earphones hurriedly, he switched on his phone, clicking on the photos app and on today's video of Atsumu to cheer him up. He even caught the hug on camera, so he was looking forward to that. 

Dimming his phone's brightness to not disturb Atsumu, (Y/n) scrolled through the video, everything moving in fast-motion until (Y/n) saw himself climb into Atsumu’s arms. He paused the video there, smiling numbly, and taking a screenshot. 

Before he could add the video to the rest of his collection of drunk-sumu videos, he was suddenly hauled up and hanging upside down. He was tossed over Atsumu’s shoulder, not even having time to protest before he was thrown carefully onto his own bed. 

“Hey-Tsu-” Atsumu said nothing, climbing into the bed gracefully after (Y/n) and pulling the covers over the both of them. “Listen to me-! Let me go-!”

“If yer gonna keep sayin’ shit like...like i’ll regret it in the mornin’...fuckin’... let me,” Atsumu slurred. (Y/n) opened his mouth to speak, but Atsumu beat him to it. “S’my fault…’n...m’gonna deal with it in the mornin’. S-so lemme hold you.”

(Y/n) knitted together his eyebrows, looking conflicted on what he should do. He’d been so, so good at restraining himself from stealing hugs and kisses from Atsumu when he was drunk, and his reward was the videos. If he messed it up now, would Atsumu be too embarrassed to let himself get picked up by (Y/n) when he was drunk? Was he really willing to potentially give up future lovey-dovey drunk videos, and seeing Atsumu tell him he loved him for one night in his arms again?

He was. 

(Y/n) relaxed, a numb expression on his face. He was just about done. One last time of drunk Atsumu holding him for a whole night, then it was time to move on. Hell, maybe after tonight, and after explaining to a very-embarassed hungover Atsumu in the morning that “No, we did not have sex,” maybe, just maybe, he would finally delete the videos. The video’s of his ex who didn’t love him anymore, feeding him drunk lies of ‘I love you’ and ‘I miss you’, and finally moving on with his life. 

(Y/n) ran his fingers through his hair, and let out a tuckered-out sigh. Maybe after he stopped clinging to the past, he could be normal friends with Atsumu Miya again. 

(Y/n) looked at Atsumu with dry eyes. He let himself succumb to Atsumu’s warm chest, breathing in his scent for what could possibly be the last time. Atsumu purred happily, adjusting so he could wrap both arms around (Y/n), using one as a pillow for him and another to wrap around his body. (Y/n) hummed dryly.

Atsumu giggled. “...Love you...so much.”

(Y/n), for once out of all the time’s he’d always respond with ‘No, you don’t.’ or ‘You’re just drunk.’, said:

“I love you too.” 

“...hehe...he…” Atsumu kissed the crown of (Y/n’s) forehead, before nuzzling it with his nose. “I love you sososo much.”

(Y/n) was quick to respond, even though his throat began closing up and making it hard to speak. You could probably tell he was on the verge of tears. “Me too, ‘Tsumu. I love you most.”

“I love you so much…” Atsumu began, this time his voice way more clearer and sober than what he’d been speaking with this whole night. 

“...That i’d pretend m’drunk just to see you again.”

“...”

(Y/n) blinked, not quite processing his words. He shrunk inside Atsumu’s cage-like arms, before timidly meeting Atsumu’s eyes. They seemed much clearer, less hazy from ‘alcohol’, and they stared back at him with it’s usual ‘Atsumu’ look.

“...huh…?”

Atsumu patted (Y/n’s) head. “Yer so cute. I love you so much.”

“Wh-wait-” (Y/n) tried to wriggle his way out of Atsumu’s arms. “You-you’re not-”

“Nope. All I did at the bar tonight was watch Bokkun and Shoyo-kun drink so i’d smell like alcohol. Then I told—well, paid Omi-Omi to call you sayin’ I was drunk again, so I could see what stupid shit I did at your place when I was drunk.”

“Though,” Atsumu nodded at the discarded phone on the ground, next to (Y/n’s) makeshift swivel chair-bed. “I could've just asked to see that video of me. Or the rest of them, ‘coordin’ to Kozume-kun.”

(Y/n) sputtered, trying to find the words to speak, but finding himself too embarrassed to. He’d, finally, been caught red-handed. 

He sighed, casting his head down, before crawling out of his bed and taking the walk of shame to his phone. “...You caught me,’Tsu...Atsumu. Caught me real good, Atsumu.”

(Y/n) scrolled through his phone, searching for the album full of his drunk video’s of Atsumu. He clicked on it, then waved his phone around guiltily. He turned the phone around, peering down at it sheepishly. “Don’t worry, I’ll delete all of these...and I...I can drive you home if you want.”

“Nah. M’pretty comfy here.” Atsumu laid back down. “I’d be comfier if you were in my arms again, though.”

Atsumu made grabby arms towards (Y/n). (Y/n) blinked, searching Atsumu for any sort of satire. He found none, and nervously inched toward Atsumu until he was pulled back into his chest. The phone was, once again, forgotten on the floor. 

“Wheeeeeey, there we go~” Atsumu nestled down onto the bed, crooning (Y/n) in his arms and stroking his head. “Ain’t that comfy.”

He pressed a small kiss to (Y/n’s) forehead. “Love you. Goodnight~”

“...Wait, n-no you-”

Atsumu pressed another kiss onto (Y/n’s) face, promptly shutting him up. He tried speaking again, just to have another kiss placed onto his face. This cycle went on, (Y/n) trying to voice out his protests just to be hushed with kisses all over his face, until he reduced into a pile of hot tears, melting his face off raw. 

Atsumu kissed (Y/n’s) tears away. When more kept coming, Atsumu pulled back, stroking (Y/n’s) hair as gently as he could. Gentle was not a word to describe Miya Atsumu, but he sure as hell would try. 

“Stop cryin’...” Atsumu whispered, kissing another falling tear away. “I came here to win ya back, not make you cry…”

“I-I’m sorry-” (Y/n) sobbed out between hics. “I just- I missed you so-”

“I did too.” 

They sat there, small hics coming from (Y/n) as Atsumu quietly stroked his hair, and in all honesty, they would have laid there forever. But (Y/n) finally wriggled his way out Atsumu’s grasp, timpering his way to his phone. 

He picked it up, fiddling with it, before turning his phone screen around. Atsumu leaned closer. 

‘Sweet, Sweet, Lies called Drunk Miya Atsumu (watch when sad) - 0 videos’

“Deleted them all.” (Y/n) murmured. “Figured I wouldn’t need them anymore now that I got you here…”

Atsumu blinked before erupting into a wide smile. He sprang off the bed and attacked (Y/n) with a big, bear hug. “You bet yer ass you won’t!” 

He peppered kisses around (Y/n’s) face, and instead of crying, (Y/n) began to smile.

“Stop it-that tickles! ‘Tsumu-!” The red tear stains on (Y/n’s) face were barely noticeable under the flurry of kisses he was under. Atsumu grinned stupidly into (Y/n’s) skin.

“Ya know full well you don’t want me to.”

And he didn’t.

Atsumu pressed one final kiss to (Y/n’s) face, this time, and for the first time in a long time: on his lips.

——————

I’m really proud of this 👉👈 I’d like it if I could get a lil,,,reblog,,,with thoughts,,,or comments,,,aha ha ha,,,

Lil thing I found funny

[morganaspendragonss]

hollyyy okay i do have a prompt for you bc i don’t think i sent one before?? it’s kinda vague and i’m willing to consult if you want more details but i’m thinking maybe something where carlos is getting treated in the er for something (minor; something like a sprain or cut idk dealers choice) and then tk is dropping a patient off in the er and spots him and he’s just like oh hello??? and carlos is trying to be all casual about it like “hey tk, how are you?” and tk is just not having it

holly's august extravaganza day 30: ease my mind

thank you jamie! combined with your bthb prompt though it's far more fluffy than angsty anyway 😊

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: fingore

ao3 | 1k | fluff, hurt/comfort, hurt carlos, worried tk, minor injuries

“Okay, Officer Reyes, you’ll need to keep that strapped for a month, and we’ll be in contact shortly to arrange a follow-up appointment to check your progress.”

Carlos nods absently, flexing his hand in an imitation of one of the exercises the doctor had shown him. It sends a sharp pulse of pain through his hand, starting at his two broken fingers and ending somewhere in his wrist. The nurse discharging him smiles sympathetically as she hands over his paperwork.

“You might want to wait a couple days before starting on those,” she whispers, almost conspiratorially. “Trust me—I have experience in these matters.”

She winks, and Carlos snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, me too. Kinda. A few months back my fiancé—he was my boyfriend then—broke half his hand, and then rebroke it after it had healed because he’s an idiot who can’t take a day to rest.”

The nurse giggles, and Carlos has no idea why he’s telling her all of this. He chooses to blame it on the painkillers they gave him, though admittedly said painkillers were very mild and wouldn’t send him loopy enough to lose control of his tongue.

He just likes talking about TK, is all.

“Well, I’m sure you won’t make the same mistake, then,” the nurse says, patting him on the leg. “You’re good to go.”

Carlos thanks her and slides off the bed, grabbing his APD jacket from the chair it had been slung over. He pulls his phone out and checks his messages, smiling when he sees one from TK.

TK, 14.38: I get off in a few hours, see you tonight babe. Love you, stay safe x

Briefly, Carlos considers calling him and telling him about the accident. But… He only broke two of his fingers and, unlike TK, Carlos did not injure his dominant hand. It barely even classifies as a minor injury in his book, so there’s really no reason to bother his fiancé while he’s still on shift himself. He settles on a simple, Love you too xx, then pockets his phone, looking up and around to figure out where the exit is.

Only, an all-too familiar laugh distracts him from his task, drawing his attention to the nurses station.

Where TK is standing, smiling as a nurse swats at him for stealing one of their lollipops.

Carlos is, beyond doubt, fucked.

He’s considering ducking behind a pillar and waiting them out, but Nancy chooses that moment to appear next to TK, her eyes almost instantly landing on Carlos. He tries to frantically shake his head at her, but he’s too late; she’s already smacking TK’s arm and pointing right in Carlos’s direction.

TK’s head snaps up and his eyes instantly narrow upon catching sight of Carlos. He straightens, folding his arms, and raises a pointed eyebrow. “Carlos Reyes, you had better be here to question someone.”

Carlos then makes the fatal mistake—he plasters a smile on his face and raises a hand in a wave, realising too late that it’s his left.

AKA, the hand that is very obviously bandaged to hell.

TK doesn’t waste a second in striding over, shifting back into paramedic mode despite the blatant worry all over his face. Carlos sighs and bears it as TK gently takes his wrist, raising it to inspect the bandages.

“What’s the damage?” he murmurs, still looking at Carlos’s hand.

“Two broken fingers, and I have to keep them strapped up for a month before they want to review. It’s nothing, Ty.”

“Nothing?” TK demands, taking a step back and staring Carlos down. “When I broke my hand last year it was ‘you need to be more careful, babe’, and ‘how do you keep getting yourself in these messes, babe’, and ‘I didn’t realise I distracted you to the point of injury, babe, maybe I should stay in the guest room for a while to make sure it doesn’t happen again’.”

TK pauses for breath, glaring as Carlos tries and fails to bite back laughter. He’d feel bad for all the teasing his boyfriend had endured back then, but, well, it had been funny.

“But now you’ve hurt yourself, suddenly it’s nothing?” TK huffs, a pout forming on his lips. “I’m not going to stand for this, I hope you know that.”

“Okay, first,” Carlos laughs, “even you have to admit that what you did was kind of funny. Second, it’s literally just two fingers and they’re going to heal up fine. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I’m barely hurt, and I didn’t want you to spend the rest of your shift worrying about me when you have an important job to do.”

TK softens and he glances down at his shoes, a small smile playing at his lips. “How did you know I was going to ask that?”

“Because I know you. And because it’s what I would be asking if I were in your shoes.”

A few seconds of silence pass between them—seconds of understanding and love—but the moment is broken by Nancy yelling TK’s name across the foyer.

“That’s my cue,” TK says, though he makes no move to step away from Carlos. He gives him a searching look, eyes lingering on his bandaged hand. “You sure you’re gonna be okay? I could—”

“Ty.” Carlos shakes his head, smiling gently. “Go. A couple broken fingers is not a good enough excuse to get you off your shift; I’ll get an Uber home and I promise not to do anything that would make it worse. I’m okay. I promise.”

TK sighs, still looking reluctant, but he seems to accept Carlos’s assurance. He takes his injured hand once more and presses a feather-light kiss to the back of it, cupping Carlos’s face gently. “For the record,” he says, “I always worry about you.”

Carlos leans into the touch, nuzzling into TK’s palm. “The feeling is mutual.”

Nancy calls for TK again, and they’re forced to break apart.

“I’m coming!” TK shouts back, and Carlos spots Nancy rolling her eyes behind TK’s back.

“You really had better go, babe,” he says, laughing. “I think Nancy might kill you if you don’t get back there right now.”

TK grumbles, but he does go this time, sparing one last smile back at Carlos. Carlos nods at him, trying to reaffirm the promise that he’s really, truly okay and, by the look on TK’s face, he understands.

But then, they always understand each other.

Eventually.

[beomglocks]

what soobin is like as a boyfriend

warnings & other: none i just love him but let’s be honest who doesn’t, this gets cheesy in some parts bc he just gives off stereotypical kdrama bf vibes but guys he’s the one

w/c: round to 1k

ok first off 

sorry if i rant soobin is my baby so ofc i think he’s the perfect boyfriend

he’s so

ugh

ok when you meet him he’s a shy boy

like really won’t wanna look you in the eye

ok like super fucking awkward

like painfully and you’re like “hahah ok that’s cute”

that only applies if you look intimidating tho

if you’re one of those people who’s blessed with not having resting bitch face he’ll be flirty

well you know..

he has his own methods of being flirty

he’s charming in his own way

probably does what yeonjun does but more subtle

stares

will stare at you

and when you make eye contact he smiles and rubs his lip with his finger DJSJSKDK PLZ

alternatively: looks away, purses his lips with a smile, ears get red, looks back up to you already looking at him then he waves

youre left like

“omg he’s so fucking cute”

ok but actually like he will reel you in without you even knowing

next thing you know you’re laughing at his lame ass jokes

god forbid you think he’s funny

“you think I’m funny? well we should date” :)

wait im pretty sure he said he doesnt go after someone unless he knows they like him back

tbh he’d probably wait until you make the first move

or wait until you show interest or else he’ll just hide his feelings

you have to bring him out of his shell

once you do...oh boy

100% never leaving you alone

always telling you how much he loves you

he’s the sweetest

teeth rotting sweet

i feel like he would slowly open up to you during the relationship

he’s not like automatically into it if that makes sense

shy to initiate things at first

such as kissing and touching

asks you if it’s ok first

we love consent

free samples kind of guy

dont take him to an ice cream shop or shops in general

he will devour the free samples

next thing you know you’re leaving with goat cheese and the newest ice cream flavour

he gives hopeless romantic vibes

would want to bake with you in the kitchen

and i know this sounds cliche but

flour fight

he’s cute with it at first

just rubs some flour on your nose then next thing you know

“we turned our dog white”

he’s a simple man

however

he probably spoils you

but not like expensive item type of spoiling he isn’t extravagant

god forbid the price range of any of the items he buys you exceeds his actual paycheck

cute gifts that you’ll actually use and cherish

i dont see many fights happening with him tbh

maybe if you question his leadership choices then i can see a fight happening

for example if you think he couldve handled a situation better in a certain way and you point that out to him he’ll get all defensive

“im the leader of my group dont tell me what you think is best for my group”

then you’re just like “well shit fuck you too i was just tryna help”

i can see him distancing himself after a fight if you’re also feeling a bit aggitated

doesn’t talk to you until it’s literally 2am and neither of you are sleeping bc yall always cuddle and you’re not cuddling him

:(

he’s always the first one to say sorry

my god he makes fun of you so much

not on a beomgyu level though

more of a “if you say something silly i will make you feel so dumb for the rest of the day” kind of clowning

wow jealousy

i feel like he’s not super jealous unless he feels threatened

everything was fine until the fire nation attacked

once he sees you getting a little too buddy buddy with someone else he’s like nah i gotta shut this shit down

he’s humble but once he’s jealous he’s all braggy to make himself seem above who ever was trying to get at you

“yeah i think we ALL-”

boy do you have to comfort this big baby

he’s sensitive :(

hold him and rub his head on his off days

tell him he’s the best boy and it doesnt matter what anyone else thinks screw them

he laughs like 

“shouldnt i be comforting you?” 

soooooooooo sappy

cliche asf boyfriend

buys you flowers

if he could he would be doing the whole radio outside your window thing (side note: yeonjun would too be he’s whipped asf)

college bf (we saw it coming)

see also: college bf who helps you in what he can and tells you to screw math bc you don’t need it anyways

shows up at your school or job after his practice

everyone loves him

everyone

you gotta be on guard 24/7

i wouldnt say you’d be insecure per se but soobin definietly lacks awareness when it comes to being flirted with

he recognizes others advances but laughs awkwardly, forgetting to tell the person he already has a partner

~cue mild argument~

at the end of it all he’s like “dont worry i only like you jeez”

if he’s working on a song he asks for your input

or rather how would you interpret a certain emotion that he isn’t able to convey

just to joke around, if he has to write a song about heartbreak but neither of you have been through that he’ll be like

“well there’s a first for everything :)”

soobin 100% takes the time to learn about your culture

he’s invested what can i say

introducing you to the other members isn’t THAT bad

but they definitely clown soobin

txt: “how come your partner is cooler than our own leader”

“maybe they should lead us instead” (joke)

soobin’s like fuck yall i can be cool :(

always send you cute selfies

with messages along the lines of

“i miss you :((((”

“bring ice cream on your way back!”

“be safe tho xxx”

he gives embarassing dad vibes

you can’t introduce him to your friends !

since he has you around he isn’t too shy and once he engages in conversation you better pack your bags

he’s trying to be funny (keyword: trying) but really it’s just your friends laughing to not make the hot idol bf not feel bad

you help him with his script for music bank

speaking of music bank

yes, yes, you are clowning him like the rest of txt and he comes home like

“not you too :(((((((”

hueningkai

my goodness hueningkai

yall tussle over soobin’s attention

sometimes it feels like youre sharing soobin with kai

you love them both but youre like “kai sweetie it’s cold and i wanna be the one to cuddle my bf so please”

speaking of cuddles 

best cuddles

ones where he’s wearing a really comfortable sweater that’s actually nice material and your face gets buried in his chest 

his limbs will be tangled in yours no doubt

but wow he’s so warm you almost never wanna let go

they don’t call him “home” for nothing

tall boy

makes fun of you if you’re shorter than him

yes he does tease you by placing items on higher-than-you-can-reach shelves

kick his shins he’ll give in

you: ”hows the weather up there”

him: “nice actually but you wouldnt know now would you :)”

tell him your problems, tell him anything

he will listen

and i mean let-you-ramble-for-hours kind of listen

but at the end of it his input is always valuable and he isn’t judgemental

he’s a good listener and gives good advice!!!

he’s not the leader for no reason put some damn trust in him!

[officialscaramouche]

Can I request an Angst to fluff for Scara? With a hint of jealousy pls.

I’m sorry, Mona for always making u the other woman 😭 I love her I promise but I also love to hate her

pairing: gn!reader x scaramouche (I hope ur not tall bc he isn’t yikes)

word count: 1,382

tw: jealousy, angst, themes of infedelity

You woke up once again to a cold, empty bed. Rolling over to stare at Scaramouche’s side of the bed, you wondered why you still sleep on one side. It’s not like he’d come home to sleep with you anyway, so what would it matter?

Getting up to brush your teeth, his side of the counter looked untouched as usual. This shared bathroom, shared house, was starting to feel more like you lived here by yourself.

No notes as usual, not a reminder that he’d be coming home today or any update on how much longer he’d be working on this project. You understood that Scaramouche’s job was important, and you knew that there would be times when you wouldn’t see him for weeks or months. But whenever the two of you were apart, he was usually in another country. Mondstadt, Liyue, Fontaine, somewhere else. Not like now, when he was here in the same city.

He had warned you that he’d get busier. He told you one night over dinner that the Tsaritsa had given him a big project— planning the capture of the traveler. He complained, saying that he also had to negotiate terms with an outside party about assistance, and how the Tsaritsa double booked him with work. He always hated getting important roles, but he never half-assed his job. His title as the Balladeer came before anyone and anything. He was a hard worker, if nothing else. But you knew this, and you told him that you would make it work but knowing he’s maybe thirty minutes away from you in the same city made it more painful that he didn’t come home.

Was he avoiding you? Did you do something wrong? Did he meet someone else, and simply not bother to break up with you? Maybe he was hoping you’d break up with him and he wouldn’t have to deal with confronting you. Whatever the case, you wished you knew the truth and if he was going to break your heart, you at least want to know the full story.

You packed him a lunch, hoping that he’d have time to step away and share a meal with you. If he hadn’t been coming home, he also wasn’t eating well. He would rather skip a meal or two than fall behind on work, but hopefully he’d make an exception.

When you got there, the agents already knew who you were. Hardly anyone stopped to say hello out of respect, knowing who you were dating. When you got to his office, the agent guarding the room stepped in front of the door— something he didn’t do before.

“Hello, Javert. I’m dropping off Scara’s lunch. Is there a problem?”

“I’m sorry, [Y/N], he’s not taking guests right now. Please see him at another time.”

You stepped forward, reaching for the door. “No, I’d like to see him now.”

Javert put a firm hand on your shoulder and pushed you back. “Please, this is an order from him directly, I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I don’t care!” You spat, shoving him aside and quickly throwing open the door. “Scara, we need to talk—”

Your eyes met his, along with someone else’s. He sat on the outside edge of his desk, his hand on a woman’s chin— someone you had never seen before. His nose was not even an inch away from hers, a smile on both of their faces. “[Y/N],” he said in surprise, letting go of her chin and gently pushing her aside. “What are you…”

You drop the lunchbox onto the floor. “So this is what you’ve been so busy with, huh?” You bit your lip as it began to quiver, your fists shaking with rage. “This is why you couldn’t be bothered to come home?” Your heart pounded against your chest, the stinging pain too much to bear.

“[Y/N], wait. She’s—”

“No, fuck you! I’ve been waiting for you like a puppy, and you’re fucking around on me? We’re done!”

Kicking the lunchbox across the room, you turn and slam the door closed, Javert looking away to avoid making eye contact with you. You stomp down the halls, agents stopping to look at you. With the way you shouted, you didn’t doubt that everyone here heard you. Some people looked at you then quickly looked away behind you. Others tried to stop you from leaving, as if to beg you to stop and calm down.

It wasn’t until your fingers wrapped around the doorknob did you realize they weren’t looking at you or trying to stop you because not far behind, Scaramouche was stalking down the halls with an ugly scowl on his face. He grabbed your shoulder and spun you around, pressing you into the door. “Do you not hear me calling you, [Y/N]?” He hissed, holding your stare. “This is my workplace, you can’t just come in here and make a scene! Mikhail,” he snapped at one of the passing-by agents. “Open a conference room and escort the astrologist out of my office, please.” You pushed at his wrist holding you still against the door. “Please behave and come with me to my office.”

Back in his office he relieved Javert of duty to try and give the two of you some privacy. You stand by the door, refusing to move closer to his desk where they probably fucked every night, her sweat and come coating the surface. It made you angrier to think about it.

Scaramouche crouched down by one of the shelves as he picked up the contents of the lunchbox. “Thank you for making me lunch,” he said with a chuckle. “Even though I won’t be eating it now.” You didn’t say anything. You just stood there with your arms crossed, tapping your foot angrily. “Baby, please stop being mad. I already told you about her.”

“No you didn’t?! You didn’t tell me shit about some skank!”

He tossed the lunchbox on his desk, pulling his hat off and hanging it on the back of his chair. “Yes, I did. The assistance? She’s an astrologist, she can read the future.”

“So?! Why did you have to put your hands on her then?!”

Scaramouche made his way toward you slowly and deliberately. He extended his arms out to gesture for a hug. “Scare tactics, honey. She knows not to pick a fight in one of our bases. Look, she’s friends with the traveler. I have to make sure she won’t betray us.”

He stood in front of you, arms open and waiting for you to reach out to him. “I don’t like you touching her,” you spit, eyeing him up and down.

“Okay, baby. I won’t touch her again.”

“And I don’t want her alone with you in your office anymore.”

“Fine, you wanna start coming with me to work?”

“Are you actually going to come home?”

Scaramouche raised a brow at you. “What do you mean? I’ve been coming home.”

“No you haven’t! Your side of the bed is always untouched! And your sink, too!”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes and leans into you anyway, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tight. “You do know I only get, like, three hours of sleep right? Because I get home so late and I leave so early.” He cups your cheek, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips. “I can’t sleep without you, [Y/N]. Don’t be silly, you think I like being in this office? I’d much rather be at home, napping all day and getting lectured about the trash.”

You finally relax into the hug and hang your arms over his shoulders, letting him pepper your face and neck with kisses. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”

“Lying is a waste of time. You’d only find out the truth eventually.”

“I guess,” you pout, knowing he’s never been one for lying. “If I ever found out you’ve been having sex in this office behind my back, I’ll—”

“You’ll kill me, I know. Trust me, the papers on my desk are more important than pussy.” He pulled back to look at you, your blush heavy from embarrassment and pout prevalent on your lips. “But if you want to—”

“No!!”

“Okay! Geez, just saying!”

[pinkjeanist]

“cooking by the book!” || katsuki bakugou

     ⇥ When Bakugou teaches 1-A how to bake a cake for an upcoming festival, you can’t help but notice how he treats you a little nicer than the others. But that’s just your crush on him talking...right? [1.6k words]

a/n: this is named after that remix of “cooking by the book” from lazy town bc no other song captures the pure essence of bakugou and reader’s relationship. this was also largely inspired by the difference in how gordon ramsay treats kid chefs vs. adult ones.[navigation]

You should have known that taking cooking lessons from Bakugou wasn’t going to be easy. However, with the way he taught you differently from everyone else, you had to admit: it could have been a lot harder.

“You’re gonna bake a cake, today.” You looked down at the empty mixing bowl before you, biting the inside of your cheek. You’d heard that baking was somewhat difficult to begin with, including (but not limited to) cake, and for Bakugou to choose that as your first proper baking session ever made you a bit intimidated (though whether you were intimidated by him or the cake was unclear).

Another school festival was coming up, and your class was expected to bake for the guests, which would have been okay if both halves of your class were competent enough to use an oven. So here you were, standing behind one of the many kitchen counters, trying not to stare too much ahead at Bakugou. You caught yourself doing that a lot on the daily, and even if you sometimes caught him doing the same, it was rude on your part. So, long before you’d even stepped foot in the kitchen, you decided that you would put your feelings aside and focus on the task at hand (which was already proving difficult).

After preheating the ovens, you all went back to your stations. You reached for the apron on the counter and slipped it over your head. Next to you, Kirishima asked his friend, “Are we supposed to do that?”

“Are you kidding me? Is that a question?” You paused in tying the apron behind your back as Bakugou raised his voice. “Yes, you dumbass! Who the hell doesn’t bake without an apron?!” 

You nodded even as his shouting wasn’t directed towards you, and again attempted to tie the apron behind your back until you realized it just wouldn’t stay tied. You almost asked Kirishima or Mina to help you before Bakugou came over to grab the strings and do it himself. You went still, and didn’t quite hear him the first time when he mumbled, “Is that too tight?” 

You swallowed. “It’s fine, thank you…” 

He moved back in front of the counters again and tied his own apron. “You each have a recipe in front of you. Don’t use it unless you need it. If you listen to me, you won’t need it at all.” 

You nodded and put your hands behind your back, not sure what else to do with them until he instructed the ten or so of you to find the flour. The others scrambled to the part of the kitchen you knew had flour somewhere around it, but you distinctly remembered there being another, smaller bag of it in a different pantry, so you went there instead. You retrieved it and presented it to Bakugou.

“Is this flour?”

He blinked. “No. That’s sugar.”

“Oh…”

“You’ll need it. Take it back to your station.”

“Oh, okay!” You smiled. Turning on your heel, you did as he instructed, and waited patiently until you were told to find the sugar (which you already had), baking soda, baking powder, cocoa, salt, and espresso powder. You tried to keep the list of the items in your mind as you turned to search for them, but found yourself at a loss. 

It was your fault for only partially-listening when Bakugou had given the instructions, but were you really to blame? He was wearing a sleeveless shirt under an apron that hugged him tight enough to show off his tiny waist. How were you supposed to have paid attention with that in front of you? 

But you wouldn’t say any of that to him- never in a million lifetimes- so you were as quiet and unassuming as possible as you took the recipe from the countertop and went over it. You knew where the flour was, and you had the sugar, but looking around the kitchen, you couldn’t spot anyone with espresso powder, which you didn’t even know was a thing that was supposed to go in cakes, but that wasn’t the point. You stood, biting your lip, until Bakugou came over again.

“What are you confused about?” His voice was a lot softer than you expected it to be, seeing as how he’d done nothing but yell at everyone else (you couldn’t blame him. Cooking was just that big of a passion for some people), but you couldn’t complain. You looked down at the recipe to avoid his eye.

“I’m not confused, I just- I don’t know who has the espresso powder.” 

Bakugou put a hand on your arm, and you tried not to melt under it as he shouted over your shoulder: “Who has the espresso powder?!”

“Is this it?” Kaminari lifted a large jar of brown powder over a sea of other bakers-in-training, which drew another rant from Bakugou about kitchen safety and do you want someone to get a concussion when you drop that?!, but you were still too focused on the weight of his hand. When he got done yelling, he squeezed your arm gently before looking down at you, and you swore you felt your heart stop before beating out of control. 

“Go and get a teaspoon of espresso powder. I’ll announce everything else, but if you forget the measurements, just look at the damn recipe.” 

You nodded and said, “Okay. Thank you, Bakugou.” 

Walking away, he muttered a quiet “you’re welcome,” and you could only smile to yourself as you looked back down at the recipe. 

Bakugou called out the measurements, and eventually, you had everything in the mixing bowl, and whisked through the powders until combined as instructed. You were then told to add milk (Bakugou measured that out for you without you needing to ask) and add two eggs (he did that for you, too) with vegetable oil and vanilla. Once you had everything in, you began to stir it, but apparently, whatever you were doing was wrong, because he moved behind you to take your hands in his on the side of the bowl and on the paddle. 

“You have to be more rough with it,” He muttered, moving your hands at a faster pace. “Or you’re gonna be standing here for three hours until it finally mixes.” 

You couldn’t even find the words, anymore. The voice that constantly nagged you in the voice told you that you were doing everything wrong, and that you were helpless for needing his assistance with each and every step, but you really couldn’t complain. Another voice told you that you were actually doing well and that he was helping you because he wanted to, not because he felt obligated, but you pushed that thought back. You knew that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. (Could it, though? (No. No it couldn’t.))

After he decided it was mixed to his satisfaction, he stepped away and went to observe Kirishima’s bowl.

“Is it supposed to be this kinda poop brown?”

“Never fucking say that again about food. And what the fuck is this? Stir it!” Bakugou grabbed the bowl and stirred it with vigor while Kirishima stood by and laughed. He didn’t hold Kirishima like he’d held you. And as he went around to stir the bowls of others, he didn’t even lay his hands on those faring worse than you. You furrowed your brow, but elected to continue stirring to keep yourself busy. 

You were then told to put the batter in the two prepared pans in front of you, with the word “evenly” stressed after the fact. Bakugou again walked over to you as you got done. “Is this okay?” 

He huffed. “This one has more batter, but it’ll do. Go put them in the oven.” 

You nodded and put the pans in the oven, nearly dropping and spilling one on the way before catching it- but other than that, they went in smoothly. Over the next half hour, you took Bakugou’s advice and used a toothpick to check the center of the cakes, and sat on the flour-covered counters in the meantime while they baked. Bakugou came to sit by you while you twiddled your thumbs.

“You did a good job today.” 

You looked at him, then immediately back to the oven with wide eyes. “Oh. I-I feel like I messed everything up, to be honest…” 

“You did fine. You didn’t mess anything up.” He didn’t look at you, so you both kept staring at the oven, afraid of eye contact.

You hesitated before saying, “Thank you for helping me.” After a moment, you added, “You’re a really good teacher.” 

“I know.” His head whipped over to where Kaminari was about to eat a spoonful of cinnamon, and chucked a wooden spoon at his back. “Not in my kitchen, asshat!” 

You actually giggled at that, which was even more embarrassing with him looking at you afterwards. You quieted yourself soon after and shoved your hands into your lap. 

“Why do you do that?”

You blinked. “Do what?”

“You always stop laughing. You laugh enough with your friends but never with me. Stop doing that.”

“Who says you’re not my friend?” You asked before you could stop your tongue, then meeting his eye. You desperately wanted to look away, but the need for a connection with him was too strong. “You are. My friend, I mean. Uhm.”

“So laugh if I do something funny. It pisses me off when you don’t.” He hung his head to mess with his hands, and you grinned shyly to yourself as you turned away.

“Okay.”

When the cakes were pulled from the oven, Bakugou was by your side the most, helping stack the layers and frosting it with chocolate buttercream. In which, when your hand brushed against his as you frosted the cake, you didn’t shy away from him. You each stole little glances, meeting one another’s eye every now and again (which was starting to become less uncomfortable each time). 

You thought your cake was a little dry. He said it was the “best fucking thing” he’d ever eaten.

-

taglist: @keigos-dove​ @knifeewifee​ @wesparklebitch​ @bvnnyclouds​ @hanniejji​ @katsukis-sad-angel​

other tag/s: @pixxiesdust​

- dm/inbox to be added or removed from a taglist. 

[machinegunbun]

UnConventional Bakers [Pete]

Requested? no

word count? 1.7k

TW? None

A/n: it’s like 80% dialogue bc it’s supposed to be a tv show. whadder ya gonna do

The props department did a wonderful job this season, comedy inspired props sprinkled about the set. Mic stands ended in lollipops, rice krispy stools covered in modeling chocolate, Comedians stood at every station, patiently awaiting directions. 

Conventional Bakers was finally ready for shooting its first season. It was a show about famous people coming together on a baking show and competing. It would have everyone from singers to actors or, in this case, comedians. Every season would be inspired by the careers of the people competing.

“On this season of UnConventional Bakers we are joined by,” the camera took turns panning to each comedian as you said their name. 

“Kevin Hart, Pete Davidson, Adam Sandler and…” you paused for dramatic effect “Fluffy!!!”

The comedians protest coming fast after 

Why’d he get all the excitement?” Adam asks

“Yeah, i’m literally your fiance what the fuck.” Pete adds, laughing “I don’t like that, i don’t like that shit. I got my eye on you Gabriel.”

“Don’t hate me cause I'm beautiful.” Fluffy replies

“Bakers! Comedians, whatever,” you call out, trying to regain their attention, Pete playfully mumbled but returned his attention “if you want a chance at winning you will have to pay attention.”

“Got it, go. No wait… yeah okay, go.” Adam interrupts, causing you to bite back a smile. This would be a long shoot

“For tonight's challenge, you’re in for a treat. Because it’s only the first round, we’ll take it easy on you and allow teams.” muted murmurs fell over the room as they decided who would be on whose team, “Tonight we will be making the one thing a comedian couldn’t live without.” Your co-star, Nicole Byers, continues.

“Weed.” Pete guesses,

“No, their audience.”

“Oh, speak for yourself.” 

“You will be making your very own audience cupcakes. When we say go you will head to your baking stations where you will find step by step instructions on how to make your audience, along with photo references and the clock will begin counting down.” You say

“Go, go, go! What are you waiting for?!” Nicole rushes, you take your seat as they make their way to the respective stations. The teams ended up being Pete and Kevin, Gabe and Adam.

Things were going pretty smoothly, the comedians racing back and forth from the ingredients to their stations as things began starting up. As you look around, you see Pete and Kevin looking confused as they stare at the instructions.

“Something wrong, sweety?” you ask

“No, all good over here. Thanks for asking.” Gabe pipes up, you laugh and make your way over to Pete

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I shouldn’t have dropped out of college.”

“How come? What's wrong?”

“I need ⅔   a cup, but there’s not a ⅔  measurement cup.” he says

“Well, if you need ⅔  but there's not one, you just take two--” 

“Don’t patronize me. I got it.” Kevin cuts you off in the middle of explaining, grabbing two handfuls of flour and throwing it in the mixer “There, that should work.” 

You sigh, making your way over to the other stations to check on how everyone else was doing. Adam was doing well, which wasn’t a surprise considering he’s a father and probably does some baking at home.

“Gabe, how are you doing?” 

“Not good, I’m used to eating cake and not making it.”

“Oh hush, you’re doing fine!” You encourage, leaning forward to whisper to him “Kevin just measured flour with his hands, so I think you’ll be okay.”

“Guys, I think they’re talking about you.” Adam yells

“Yeah, I know.” Pete laughs.

“That's okay, cause you know what? Haters gonna hate.” Kevin yells

After making your rounds you sat back down, turning to face a laughing Nicole.

“That wasn’t sugar, that was salt.” She barely squeaks out “They’re gonna be so gross” you nod and laugh along, all but excited for the dishes that would soon be in front of you.

“On that note, can we get some water?” You call out to the team behind you

“And a medic?” Nicole adds

“And a mathematician. You understand this shit?” Pete says

“What? Basic measurements? Yeah baby, I do.” 

Before you knew it the timer had gone off and the cupcakes were sat in front of you. 

“So, these are what your audience were supposed to look like, and this is what they do look like.” Nicole says, vaguely gesturing to the cupcakes

“We- we uh, we took some creative liberties.” Pete says through a laugh

“Well, let’s see what it tastes like.” you say, grabbing one from the crowd and cheersing it with Nicole’s

“Might as well get this over with.” she says, making a clink noise with her mouth, as she does there's another noise too. The rock hard exteriors made a clunk noise. Your jaw dropped as you made eye contact with Nicole, not believing what had just happened

“Wait.” you say, grabbing another and throwing it at the ground with all the force you could muster. It cracked directly in half, crumbs flying across the floor.

“Pete!” you yell, an amused smile painted across your face. Pete laughs, covering his face 

“I have no idea what happened.”he says, picking up the cupcake from the floor

“This is my passion, how did you fuck up this hard?!”

“I have no fucking idea.” he laughs, crumbling it up in his hand.

“I guess we still have to taste it.” you say, grabbing another and cracking a piece off on the table, handing one to Nicole. When you bite down there's an audible crunch that makes everyone in the room wince. You can’t help the expression that overcomes your face as the taste hits your tongue, looking over to Nicole to confirm it wasn’t just you. It wasn’t.

You attempt to open your water, your hand slipping again and again until Pete walks over and opens it for you, feeding you the water as he apologizes through his laughter. It took you a minute of held back gags to recompose yourself, but when you finally did you said,

“Your BLEEP is sweeter than this.” You say, deeply preferring it over the burnt, salty, crunchy thing in front of you.

“Really?” Pete asks, laughing and when you nod your head it only makes him laugh harder.

“Pete, you fucked up Pete.” Kevin says. 

“Dont throw this on him, you’re the one who wouldn’t listen.” You say, looking over to Nicole who had resorted to licking the icing off the cupcake

“Look at what you’ve done to this poor lady. You should be ashamed. It’s gotta be a zero from me” You laugh, more than ready to move on.

“You know what, the icing wasn’t bad,” They began to fight over who had made the icing. “I don’t care, just promise to never do that again. Adam, Gabe, before I take a bite you have to promise me it won’t be like that.” Nicole says, dead serious. They shake their head, letting out little reassurances while choking down their laughter. You take a deep breath before lifting the cupcake to your mouth and taking a small test bite, surely traumatized. 

To your delight, it was actually very good. You smiled and nodded, taking another bite as Kevin and Pete groaned, knowing they’d surely lost.

“I feel like theirs was so bad we can’t even celebrate.” Adam says.

“Yeah, i don’t think we need to add insult to injury by announcing the winners of this round. On to the next?!” You cheer, preparing to announce what would come next.

“For your next challenge, we will be making cupriphon- cupcakeriphones- Okay, the name hasn’t been completely sorted out yet, cupcake microphones!” You announce

“Yes! And because we felt bad for the loser, that’s just in the script so i had to say it, i don’t actually feel bad for you that was disgusting. Because we felt bad for the loser, we decided to give them a leg up. If you look at the stations, two of them have buttons. They’re called the happy heckler buttons and when you press them a timer will be set and either Y/N or myself will go yell encouragement to your teammates until it goes off.” Nicole says

“Awhh, so sweet. Ready? Set? Go!” You yell, watching them scatter to try to find a station.

“Ay, stay back this is mine.” Fluffy says to Adam, haphazardly wielding a knife, momentarily fighting over a station before Nicole reminds them the timer is counting down. They take a look at their ingredients before rushing over to the storage space and grabbing what they need.

You’d managed to get to the decorating stage with little to no issues when you hear Kevin yelling, “Pete! I need your help, I need those long legs pete.” straining to grab something from the top shelf

“Hold on, one second.” He says, glancing back momentarily as he tried to finish decorating.

“Oh shit, you’re already decorating?” Kevin asks as Pete hands him what he needed before walking back to his station.

“Yeah, catch up.” Pete says

“Okay, i’ll catch up, if that's what you want.” Kevin says, slamming his button down in a melodramatic act of sabotage.

Nicole yells in excitement, ready for some action, running over to distract Pete.

“You dick! I thought we were friends.” he says, slamming his own button. You run over, making sure to get in Kevins face as you encourage him, giving him slaps on the back and shaking his shoulders. Things had gotten very chaotic, very fast.

When the four minutes were over you left Kevin’s station for Pete’s, hanging out with him as his cupcakes cooked in the oven. He was bent over in a hug with you, small kisses being pressed to each others lips.

“Doing so good baby.” you mumble, fingers tangled in his hair. Usually you didn’t like PDA, but you had made an exception today because it had been a long shoot and you missed him.

“Way better than last time.” He confirms, remembering last time they had burnt and opting to check the oven.

“Look at that! This aint fair, Pete’s sleepin with the judges!” Kevin yells, making everyone laugh

“You could be too, Kevin.” Nicole winks

“Nicole, you’re both married.” You remind them

“Hey, that's show business baby.” Kevin jokes

When it all came to an end, Adam ended up winning and it was a surprise.. To no one. He was the only one even kind of equipped to win and he rode that all the way to the finish line.

[palbabor-writes]

dude uh so like dabi but as a father... like he would never but like no one day he gets left with this kid and he's not gonna abandon it bc he cant idk i just want to see dabi as a parental unit trying not to be a bad parent

lol, ppl ask me asks and i respond with a feature freaking film worth of words.  (//▽//) warnings: adult language, angst, mild spoilers for current manga chapters: 290 - 291

words: 3915 

notes: I answered this a little differently. It’s more of a longing for what could have been, rather than a kid of his own sort of thing. But, Dabi does his best damn it. Also, yeah, yeah, it’s another Greek title. I cannot be STOPPED. but i prolly should be. Not beta edited, so all mistakes are mine, and mine alone.

Pónos 

ponos /ˈpoʊˌnɒs/ or ponus /ˈpoʊnəs/ noun  Ancient Greek: Πόνος Pónos  the personification of hardship and toil

There’s a loud clattering noise that’s echoing along the polished floors and walls of the Meta Liberation Army’s base. 

Dabi hates these long hallways. They remind him of some kinda tomb, with all that reverberation and all those gleaming surfaces. They’re perfect for elongating and stretching voices and sounds. 

So whatever the fuck that racket is, it’s not like he’s going to be able to avoid it. He’d need to turn around to do that and he’s not about to fucking turn heel and retrace his steps. Besides, it would take him twice as long to go the other way. Nah, this path is easier, despite the looming annoyance of the commotion.

 He rounds a corner and catches sight of a young woman. 

She’s struggling with something as she reaches into her shoulder bag, and her back twists awkwardly as she leans both forward and sideways. Dabi can’t get a good look at her from here. But, he reasons, he also doesn’t care enough to bother with a second, closer, glance. Nope, all he’s gotta do is slip past her and he can be on his way. 

“Reo-- Reo! Please keep still. I need to get to my phone…” The woman’s voice sounds strained and that odd pattering noise that he’s been hearing since he stepped toward this hallway hasn’t stopped either. If anything, it’s worse. Is it her quirk? Is there somebody behind her? Does she have one of those remote talking devices? Like that the ones that the Doc gave to the League before all this fucking cult bullshit started. What-

Dabi’s thoughts wander to a screeching halt as a boy bumps into his shins. He blinks at the sensation and stutters to a stop, his eyes glinting at the small form. The kid, who looks about four or five, stumbles backwards and cranes his head, looking up at this new discovery he’s run into. 

The boy studies him and, for a brief moment, Dabi worries that his face might spook the kid bad enough to send him into a sobbing and crying fit. Dabi’s not exactly the easiest thing to look at now. But, the kid seems ok with gawping at him, his violet eyes goggled and wondering. 

“Reo-” the boy’s mother repeats, replacing her phone and scanning the hallway for her rogue offspring. “I--Uh, there you are! I’m sorry...Oh, you’re one of those new generals. I’m afraid I don’t remember your name. Ooh, oh my gosh, now that you’re here, would you mind watching him for a moment? I’ve gotta run something back to Skeptic…”

That woman is saying something but Dabi’s too involved in his strange standoff with the boy. Neither he, nor the kid, seem to have the wherewithal to pull their gazes away. No, they both just watch each other, the former maintaining his aloof scowl and the latter is putting on an amazing show of raw fascination. 

“So, just don’t let him get up to too much trouble and I’ll be right back. Won’t be more than a minute.”  

Huh?

Dabi whips his head up, suddenly realizing what’s being asked of him. Like fuck he’s gonna watch this kid. Wait...where did she go?

He twists and turns, his cerulean eyes flashing up and down the sterile hallway, but there’s no sign of her. What the hell? How can someone dematerialize that quickly? He didn’t even say yes, for fucks sake. What a negligent, irresponsible parent she is, to just leave her kid like this with a complete stranger. Pfft, stranger feels a bit weak, honestly. Nah, Dabi’s a walking, talking freakshow. Nothing about him looks safe or dependable. There’s a pull on his dark pants and he automatically shakes his leg against the sensation, agitated. What now? 

Ah.

Junior is blinking up at him, those chubby hands wrinkling the rough fabric between his tiny digits. “Hi,” he beams, his pearly baby teeth straight and gleaming, “I’m Reo!”

“Yeah,” Dabi scoffs, knocking the kid’s hands away. “I heard. Where did your, er, mom go?”

“What’s your name?” Reo prattles, following Dabi as he skulks a little ways down the hallway, his brow furrowed and shoulders tense. Now what is he going to do? He could leave, tell the kid to stay put and go about his business. He doesn’t have time for this, after all.

“Hey!” Reo calls and Dabi turns at the slightly frantic note in the child’s voice, his eyes sharp. 

“Whadda’ want kid? I’m trying to find your mom.” 

“I said my name is Reo-”

“And I said I heard you. Tch, you’re so loud there’s no way half of the building didn’t hear you,” Dabi snaps, looming over the little boy, his mouth pressing into a deep frown. 

“I told you my name, so..so now you gotta tell me yours,” Reo scolds, those violet eyes shining. Dabi can see that the kid’s tiny frustration is rising at the thought of some adult being so rude as to not answer his newly engrained social niceties. 

“Hmph,” Dabi snorts, a low laugh puffing out of his lips. “The name’s Dabi.”

Reo digests that, his nose wrinkling as he mouths the unfamiliar name to himself, like he’s wanting to get it just right when he speaks it aloud. It’s kinda cute, Dabi muses. You know, in a stupid sort of way.

“D- Dadi?” Reo mimics, stumbling over that all important ‘b’ in Dabi’s name.

“What? No. It’s DABI. It’s got a ‘B’ in it. Like, uh, b as in, uh, bear. You know what a bear is, yeah?”

“A bear?” Reo asks, biting his lip at the strange change of topic. “What about a bear?”

“You got my name wrong, kid. It’s Dabi, not DaDi. My name has a ‘b’ not a ‘d.’ Try again,” Dabi groans, sinking to his haunches and praying that this kids mom will rematerialize any goddamn second. 

“Dadi,” Reo mimics, still fumbling. 

“Ugh,” Dabi sucks his teeth and begins to stand again. 

“Hey! Pick me up?” Reo requests, his arms lifting, stocky fingers clenching and unclenching into his palms, opening and closing in a repetition of a familiar demand. 

“Pick you up?” Dabi repeats, incredulous. What the fuck is wrong with today? The only thing that could make this worse is someone seeing this odd performance.

“I’m not gonna pick you up,�� Dabi growls, his lips pursing at the kid. “You’re just fine where you are. Besides, don’t kids like you need to practice walking? How old are you anyway?”

“Five,” Reo chirrups, puffing his chest out, like he’s expecting a rainfall of praise to fall on him now that he’s verbally acknowledged that he is indeed, a big boy.

“That’s too bad, kid. If you’re five, you’re definitely old enough to walk under your own power,” Dabi snorts, bemused by Reo’s chipper attitude. Doesn't that get tiring? All that smiling and pacing that he’s doing? Dabi’s never had much experience with little kids, well, other than his own contact with his younger siblings, but they were never this...chatty.

“Awe,” Reo whines, his head falling, little chin bumping as it hits his collarbone dejectedly. Dabi shakes his head at the dramatic reaction. Sulking is better than crying, he reasons, turning his head to look for the boy’s mother again. She said it would only take a minute? The fuck was she?

“Hey, kid. Where were you and your mom before you came here?”

There’s a strange, static-like quiet that follows Dabi’s question. That’s weird. He would have figured that his new query would have broken the boy out in another rash of talkative excitement. So for him to be…

Wait. 

Dabi turns back and his eyes scan the newly barren hallway for the boy. The fuck? Where did he go? His gaze is still whisking frantically when he spots the heel of Reo’s shoe disappearing beyond the next corner. Fucking wonderful.

He paces after the boy, his long legs pulling him quickly along. Again, he wonders why he gives two shits. It’s not his kid, not his responsibility. Yet there’s some nagging pressure that keeps beating at the back of his mind. It’s likely some pieces of a fragmented lesson that had been taught to him long ago. Back when he wasn’t like this. Long before he’d made the decision that sent him on this mindless trajectory, lingering in the obsession of his pent up rage and hurt.  

You’re the eldest. 

Take care of your sister. 

Easy, he’s still a baby. That’s right, hold him like that. You’re such a good brother. 

You’re the one who he can go to when he needs help.

Thank you, Touya. You did so, so well! I’m sorry I had to leave for a bit, but thank you for watching him. 

It’s a big job, and one that you’ll always have, so, can you do it?

You’re their big brother. They look up to you.

Look! She’s happy to see you, Touya!

Dabi snarls at those little flashes of memory, his teeth gritting. No one needs him. Fuck, he’d be more likely to kill them than help them now. Or, at least that’s what he keeps telling himself. Drilling it in, over and over, until he can repeat that vitriol like it’s some kinda twisted prayer. He’s not that boy anymore and he can never, ever go back. He’s made sure of that. 

“Hey! Hey kid! Get back here! You little shit!” 

A loud, male voice is booming up ahead and Dabi jogs the last few steps, his head already uplifted and searching as he rounds the corner. There’s a tall, unfamiliar man in the next hallway and he’s looking away, watching as Reo sprints from him. 

“Fuck, man. Why you gotta yell at him?” Dabi scolds, his cerulean eyes glaring. The man whirls around and Dabi notes the source of his ire. There’s a large stain, bleeding against his crisp white button up and an upturned mug is clutched in a tight fist. Kid must have bumped into him and knocked his coffee out. Well, that fucking sucks, but it’s no reason to freak out at the little guy. He’s five for fuck’s sake. Not like he did it on purpose. 

“He burned me! He ran around that corner and smack into me! Control your kid, you ass! I know you’re one of those hoity toity new generals but you gotta--”

“He’s not my kid,” Dabi snaps, already shoving past the blustering idiot. If he hurries, he can snatch the boy up before he gets too much farther. 

“You sure are running after him like he is!” 

The taunt chases him as Dabi stalks away and it makes him grind his teeth again. Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, he repeats, all he’s gotta do is get the kid and wait for the mom. Besides, he’s in too deep now. He can’t just abandon him. Fuck, with his luck, he’d run into the mom before he ran into Reo again.

The next hallway leads to one of the many common rooms. 

Dabi, realizing this, begins to jog again, suddenly desperate to catch Reo before he wanders into even more members of this crazy cult. Or worse, he gulps, a member of the League. He’d never live it down if the kid bumped into Compress or Shigaraki. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

As he skids along the next turn, Dabi catches sight of the kid. He’s wavering beside the double doors of the common room and he looks distinctly lost, his dark head turning every few seconds, those violet eyes of his wide. 

“Oi! Reo! Stop running,” Dabi calls, already lowering himself to a kneeling position, his long, mangled arms outstretched. He’s hoping he’s painting some kinda welcoming picture with this gesture and not just creating a terrifying pantomime of comfort.

Reo looks back and he lets out a little squeal of recognition and delight. Excited he is finally going to be picked up. His shoes tap loudly against the tiles as he dashes into Dabi’s oddly warm embrace. 

Once he’s got a good grip on the boy, Dabi rises to his feet, keeping the kid’s body securely against his. At first, Reo protests the tight hold, his back bowing and squirming, but Dabi stills him with a long, hard, stare.

“Don’t do that,” Dabi chastises, wincing against the pull on his marred skin. 

“Oh! Does it hurt?” Reo asks, carefully bringing his swinging feet to a standstill, noting the grimace of pain on Dabi’s scarred face.

“Yeah,” Dabi confirms, shifting Reo to his hip so he can free up his other arm to adjust a pinching staple. “My skin ain’t exactly healthy. Now, let’s get you back to your mom before she finds out that you fuc-- I mean...that you dashed off like that. Give people a heads up next time, huh? Making me run all over the compound after--”

“Oh! Who’s that you’re holding?”

“Gosh, he looks just like you! With that dark hair and those bright eyes of his. Is that your son?”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

Dabi tosses a glare over his shoulder, but the two women keep walking toward him, cooing at Reo’s pleased little face. One of them reaches up and ruffles the boy's hair and Dabi instinctively takes a step back, a snarl lifting his lips over his white teeth.

“He’s not my kid,” Dabi corrects, for what feels like the umpteenth time today. It’s only the second, but twice is two times too many. 

These women are being ridiculous. They don’t look that much alike. He’s just got dark hair, that’s all. If they knew what color Dabi’s hair really was they wouldn’t even make that connection. With his true coloring, Reo would be another kid and Dabi would be some fucking freak who’s left holding him. He’s not this kid's anything, least of all his protector. 

It’s not his job to look after this half pint, nor is it his job to care about him. Even if he reminds him of some sliver of what was, what could have been. No, Dabi is just some schmuck who somehow stumbled into this absurdity. It would be easy to unwind those trusting arms and lower this kid back to the ground, he’s not sure why he’s still holding him. He should...he should put him down...He... 

For some reason, that last thought makes his heart squeeze, pressing an irregular beat against his breast. He shakes his head at the sensation, burying whatever bubble of emotion that is trying to rise back down, pressing it deep, smothering and covering until he feels normal again. 

“He’s right! I’m not. Because he’s Dadi!” Reo confirms, simultaneously standing up for his new, haphazard, caretaker and throwing him under an oncoming proverbial bus in the same breath. Goddamn it all.

“That’s so sweet! Your son is beyond adorable!”

“He’s not…” Dabi begins, but bites his tongue. What good is it doing him anyway? These flunkies of the Meta Liberation are just fawning over Reo anyway. He’s honestly stunned they’re still talking to him at all. 

As they’re tickling and petting at the boy, a sudden thought springs into his mind. Actually, this might not be too bad. If he can get one of them to take the kid, he can fucking slink away, his responsibility finished, job done. 

“Oi, one of you can take him. He’s waiting for his mom. She said something about meeting with that Skeptic dic-- guy.”

“You want us to watch your son?” One of the girl’s questions, her head tilting at his demand. “Wouldn’t you rather wait for her yourself? You don’t know us and, well, not that we’d do anything bad...but that feels strange. Besides, you’re doing a great job! Look how happy he is. The two of you are so cute!”

Amazing. 

Apparently, Dabi, despite his hardened and rough persona, one that he has cultivated and built up for years, mind you, could now add, “cute,” to that resume of terror that he is building. 

Sighing, Dabi tries a more direct approach. “You seem to like him a lot, so just keep an eye on him until his mom comes back. It’s not hard. He likes being held, so just, er, hold him.”

Reo, sensing that he’s about to be deposited out of Dabi’s warm grasp, begins to wiggle again, his hands clinging to Dabi’s skin. He’s trying to be gentle, remembering Dabi’s earlier warning, his small digits tapping rather than digging, but he’s still scrabbling against the pull.

The woman clicks her tongue and smiles, tucking some of her long hair behind her ear. “Your son is so precious! He must really love you. Look, Han, isn’t this kid is the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen!” Her friend chuckles and agrees and the cheerful sound makes Dabi seethe. 

“Like I told you, he ain’t my kid. Now knock the wax outta your ears and take him,” Dabi snarls, still pushing Reo outward, hoping beyond hope that this calamity will just fucking end. 

“Dadi,” Reo pouts, his nose wrinkling as he burrows his face into Dabi’s arm, his skin hot against Dabi’s purple flesh.

“If he’s not your kid,” the woman named Han says, propping a fist on her hip, “why does he keep calling you daddy?”

“He’s not calling me that,” Dabi grumbles, his eyes lingering on Reo’s distressed slump. “The kid can’t say my name, which is Dabi. For some fucking reason the “b” is alluding him.”

“Fucking?” Reo questions, his brilliant purple eyes lifting, searching Dabi’s deep blue gaze. When he doesn’t get an answer, he repeats the word, lingering on those harsh syllables a little longer than he needs to. God, Dabi thinks, pulling Reo back to him, trying to muffle the boys bewildered tests of his new word. This is beyond ridiculous.

“Uh-oh,” another, male, voice resounds. Dabi scowls at the newcomer, watching as he steps beside the women, his eyes widened in mock concern. “That your kiddo?” He asks, his brow arching at Dabi’s now openly hostile form. 

“Fuc-- Again? I gotta answer this again?” Dabi snaps, shifting Reo back to his hip, just above his belt. “No. No, he is not mine.”

“Sure about that?” the man quizzes. “He’s sure got your hair and, uh, your vulgarity down.” 

“He’s that woman’s...Look, his mother went to go see that Skeptic bastard. So, you wanna help me out here? Any of you idiots want to do something useful? Hmm? Go into that big meeting room, the one past the common area and get her. I bet that’s where she went. When you see her...tell her, her kid is going wild. Stop...stop looking at me like that or I’ll torch you where you fuc-- where you stand.”

Instead of being cowed by his threat, the Meta Liberation Assholes just laugh, the three of them leaning against each other as they heave with their amusement. And Reo? Well, he’s seemingly amused by all the ruckus, giggling and murmuring little nothings into Dabi’s skin, nuzzling into Dabi’s inhuman warmth. Dabi feels that strange tugging at his heart again and in his anger and distant horror, he spews more rage onto the trash that’s daring to chortle so openly in front of him.

“Goddamn it, I’ll make each of you pay for this you...you stupid--”

“Dabi?”

Can a hole open up under him? That would be absolutely perfect and he’d be so, so grateful. He cranes his neck and catches sight of the last person he wanted to see. Fucking, Twice. His costume is making those white eyes of his comically wide and his hands lift to clap at his face, always dramatic and overblown to the last.

“Who is that sweet little boy? The hell are you doing with that child?!?”

“He’s--”

“It’s his son!” The ‘Han’ woman calls, still clutching her sides, her eyes wet from her mirth.

“No,” Dabi groans, his head dropping lamely. He wants nothing more than to fry each and everyone of these fucking pieces of shit. The desire is so strong he can feel the creeping of heat that’s rising in his palms and tickling up his piercings, scalding his skin against the metal. No, he scolds himself, he can’t do that. Not with Reo in his arms. He’s gotta be careful. He can’t hurt the kid. It’s not his fucking fault he’s been trapped in the care of a monster like him. 

Dabi gasps at his sudden, protective instincts. The fuck? This kid is nothing to him. Nothing. He doesn’t remind him of anyone. No, he’s nothing like his little brothers, all questions and sweet, brief hugs. He’s not...he’s not…

Reo’s hum of agitation breaks Dabi from his swirling emotions. The boy tries to lift his legs away from Dabi’s hips, his arms wrapping around Dabi’s neck, suddenly unsure and starting to whimper. 

“It’s too hot,” he complains, his voice small and soft in Dabi’s ear.

“I know,” Dabi concedes, taking another deep breath, trying to still that rushing rage that is lingering in the back of his mind. “Sorry kid, it should stop in a minute.”

“Ok,” Reo nods, his black hair mingling with Dabi’s spiky tendrils. 

Twice has stepped forward and he’s standing beside Dabi, his head cocked, looking from the shivering boy to Dabi’s haggard expression. “He does look a lot like you,” Twice ponders, his fingers tracing his chin meditatively. There’s something about Twice that Reo is bothered by and his face falls into the hollow of Dabi’s neck and shoulder, straining his body against Dabi, away from the black and red suited man that’s beside Dabi’s elbow.  

“Fuc-- Piss off, Twice,” Dabi growls, his blue eyes narrowing and hardening as he pats comfortingly at Reo’s back, twisting from Twice’s curious stare. “You’re freaking the kid out. Hey! Hey, don’t you assholes have some bootlicking to do?” Dabi snaps, his eyes lifting to the gaggle of MLA members, who are still giggling and whispering across from him. And, just as those words leave his lips, Reo’s mother, finally, finally returns. 

“Oh thank you!” She coos, raising her arms to Reo and peeling him away from Dabi. To Dabi’s shock, Reo still shakes his head, his arms retightening around Dabi’s tense neck.

“Oooh, he’s taken a liking to you I see!” 

“You gotta let me go, kid,” Dabi whispers into Reo’s ear, unlacing his little arms. Reo whines and pouts as Dabi presses him back to his mother, a sigh of relief shuddering from his mismatched lips. Thank fucking God. Now he can have this woman tell all of those shits that he’s not this boy’s father...wait...what the fuck? Oh...oh, now they all leave.

The MLA lackeys are drifting away, walking in a tight bunch as they re-enter the common area, soft grins still lingering on Dabi. And Twice? Twice is snickering openly and making his way down an adjacent hallway, no doubt off to tell Toga what he’s seen.

“Thanks again. Looks like you did a great job,” Reo’s mother repeats, shifting her son to a better position, trying to quiet his frantic scrabbling, his small arms still reaching, struggling for Dabi.

“Dadi!” Reo cries, a few tears falling from his soft face as he’s walked away. In another heartbeat, they’re both gone and all Dabi has left of that strange little kid is the lingering sting and warmth of his embrace on his burned skin.

Notes: Dabi is a grump. Or is he? o(TヘTo)

Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @evesmores

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

Dew Covered Rose

A/N: So we’re ignoring the fact that I haven’t written in like......two, three months. I honestly just haven’t felt like it, and my brain has been busy thinking about writing, or getting back to my daydreams, or thinking about Midnight. Comfort character tingz. But yeah, I’m bringing Topazi back (i also forgot when juneteenth was, I was supposed to do something for her then, I missed the day, but here I made up for it :) This is mild hurt/comfort, except my OC is tired, not hurt. Also this is probably time to mention that Topazi is a gardener, and goes to clients houses to plant things for them! Enjoy!

Tag List: @joz-stankovich, @misskittysmagicportal, @badsext, @super-unpredictable98, @the-freckled-luba, @magic-multicolored-miracle, @ghouls-buddy, @maerenee930, @frogs--are--bitches, @neuroticpuppy, @forenschik, @bisexualnathanyoung, @robert-sheehan, @firstpersonnarrator, @salvador-daley

Warnings: kinda unsafe driving bc sleep deprivation, brief mentions of nudity, swearing

  Topazi had a bit of a tiring day. The house that she’d been working at had almost no shade. The customers were as nice as they could be.....but it seemed as though every tulip that she planted correctly, they would request it to be put in a different place. Even though there was an extremely limited amount of space that she had to work with. It was very frustrating to her, to be honest. However, she got the job done. It took hours of her digging things back up and wiping sweat off of her face to be happy with the result. She was sure to make sure that everything was as good as it could be before the left for home. Even the thought of having to get back in her car and do something other than cuddle up and or sleep was killing her.

  It was late into the night, and the owl in the front yard stared at her as she pulled into the driveway, eyes barely open. She took multiple deep breaths and rubbed a calloused hand over her face before stepping out of the car, not even bothering to take her tools out of the trunk. She trudged her way into the house, carefully unlocking the door, as to not disturb Klaus, who should’ve been close to sleep, or in bed at that point. She tossed the keys into the bowl by the door, and hung her coat up, silently grimacing at the soreness already developing in her arms. 

  Not having the energy to call out to Klaus, she walked into the kitchen, finding one of the cats on top of the kitchen island, fast asleep. A small smile found its way onto her face as she gently pet it, smoothing down the fur on top of her face. She made her way over to the fridge, which she opened, very slowly, to find leftovers of spaghetti that Klaus had cooked for himself. She could never stand the noodles and sauce together, so she looked around for more things. Canned soup in the pantry....she’d have to heat it up, and she needed something instant. Juice wouldn’t be filling enough. She began to nod off, looking at the fridge once more, and she found a solution that she’d looked over. A sandwich.

“Thank fuck for bread.” she thought to herself as she grabbed the bologna, mayonnaise, and cheese slices from their respective spots before grabbing a knife and paper towel. By the time she put the bread back, her sleep levels had reached almost the maximum, and she began nodding off, head on the side of the fridge. She quickly came to her senses, and trotted back over to the island, joints creaking.

  She sat down on one of the stools on the kitchen island. (”Klaus, I need the stools, if my legs don’t look like a pretzel, I’m not sitting correctly.”) As she took a bite of her sandwich (crust first), her brain decided to shut down temporarily, and she almost fell asleep eating. The suds episode of Spongebob Squarepants, however, prevented her from doing so. She slowly ate the sandwich, grateful for the purpose that it served. After she finished her first bite, however, she completely knocked out. The cat woke up, looking at her owner, before hopping off of the counter, and walking up the stairs.

  Klaus had heard Topazi come home, but it’d been a while since he heard her open the fridge last, so he went to check on her. He avoided Minnie on the steps (as in Minnie Riperton, not the mouse) and walked into the kitchen, to find his lover fast asleep, small snores coming from her mouth. He smiled, almost letting a chuckle past his lips when he realized his task.

 “She looks fucking wasted.” he thought, before gently shaking her awake, resulting in a groan of annoyance.

“Come on T, you gotta get to bed.” he whispered, rubbing her back. She leaned against his chest, and shook her head into it, too tired to utter a rebuttal.

  Klaus chuckled lightly, and put Topazi’s used paper towel in the trash can, and her utensils in the sink, to be washed when he eventually came back down for his late night (and sometimes morning) snack. He gently picked her up, leaning down to press a small kiss to her forehead. He thought back simply how much he just loved her. He didn’t know how, as he said that “I can’t fall for someone completely. At least not again.” but he did. Although, it wasn’t completely all at once though. 

 Klaus made his way up the steps (once more avoiding Minnie), and into their shared bedroom where he gently laid Topazi down on the bed. He figured that she may want to be clean when she slept as well, but was somewhat confused how he was to go about the entire “my partner is half asleep and I’d hate to disrespect her boundaries”. So, he settled on simply getting rid of her outer clothes, and bra, then placing nightie over her form. It was one of the newer ones she’d bought. She would go on and on about how “there’s tiny flowers on this nightgown Klaus, I need to buy it”.....ah he loves Topazi with all of his heart.

  He gently tucked his lover into bed, making sure that she’s close enough to her phone that she won’t be grouchy about having to move from her spot in order to reach it. Topazi stirred in her slumber, but only a bit, and Klaus went down to the kitchen for his meal, which was going to be a good old fashioned lover boy nutter butter. Klaus thought back to when he first met Topazi as he ate his sandwich. It had been right after he met his....other siblings...like other other siblings. She was quietly sitting in a coffee shop, where she had her knees to her chest, reading a book. She was deep in concentration, but when Klaus found nowhere to sit, he had no choice but to ask her. (or to leave the shop and drink his hot chocolate elsewhere, but nah)

“Um, can I sit here?” he asked, pointing to the seat. She nodded her head without looking up, making a small noise of affirmation at the back of her throat. Klaus sat in the booth across from her, his shoes making a squeaky noise on the tile below. He awkwardly crosses his legs, taking small sips of the drink.

“What are you reading?” he asked, eyebrows quirked upwards. She gently lifted her book, and it read “The Human Anatomy, Down to the Bone Cell” He hmmed in acknowledgement, and resorted to looking out of the window. 

 The drops of rain raced each other on the windowsill, determined for few seconds at a time, only to puddle together in the end. Klaus stared at a single corner outside, where nobody seemed to be walking over. It was the crack where the sidewalk met the much smaller border of the sidewalk. He watched the rainwater trickle into it, and he felt himself start to zone out. But that was alright...he needed time to think.

  This, in turn, was perfect for Topazi to stop reading her book and stare at this stranger. New people aren’t really her thing, as they’re usually below her standard of who she liked keeping in her circle. She peered at the way his curls were somewhat tussled, like he’d been caught in a windstorm of some sort. (Although it’s been rainy all day, no wind whatsoever.), she thought to herself. His eyes were beautiful, but so tired, it seemed. Wonderful shade of green, she thought, too. She pondered the different shades of green that she could remember, which lead to her thinking of the floating diamond of Sims’ characters. (plumbob, she repeated, overenunciating the first syllable). She went back to the thought at hand, and looked at the hand clutching the cup of hot chocolate, still seeming to be warm to the touch, judging by the steam coming from the mouthpiece of the top.

  His hand was veiny, somewhat red, (maybe because of the heat). His fingers looked very pale though, almost as if they’d recently been subjected to extreme cold, or flashes of it. (the rain, she thought) His chest was partially exposed due to the.....vest that he was wearing (maybe he’s some sort of performer, he does have a cowboy hat) She paid more attention to his face, also tired, and glanced at his lips, but only for a moment, as she didn’t need to get exceedingly horny in a public space over a complete stranger.....again. She softly gasped when he looked back at her, and she softly smiled, getting back to her book.

“Were you just staring at me?” Klaus asked, looking back at her.

“Yes.” she replied, eyes skimming over her paragraph on metacarpals. She had a fleeting thought to wiggle her hand in front of her face in order to properly label everything, but she could do that back at home.

“Why?” he asked, his tone giving off the fact that he wasn’t in fact upset, just curious.

“Eye contact isn’t my favorite thing, neither is small talk, especially if I’m preoccupied, so I sometimes stare at people in order to get a better understanding of them.” she explained, glancing at Klaus.

“Oh, well, don’t mind me then. I won’t bother you.” he said, looking at the table. Topazi put her book facedown on the table, apologizing.

“You’re fine! You didn’t try to talk to me, and you respected me when I didn’t reply with the name of my book, verbally at least. I like that.” she replied, deciding to look Klaus in the eye.

“Oh, thank you. Care to tell me why you’re reading about human cells?” he teased, a smirk coming to his lips. Topazi panicked for a moment, because she thought “fuck....he’s a charmer”

  She did tell him about why she was reading about human cells. And why she kept scratching a portion of the book as she read. He even noticed how she bit her lip when she read, which lead him to think that she was actually reading some sort of cell erotica, only to remember what she had previously told him. They talked for hours, it seemed. For once, Topazi found someone that she could talk to and not get tired. Interests, parents, everything (maybe a bit too much). They eventually had to separate, but not after giving each other their numbers, and Klaus found a small feeling of joy in his chest as he walked out of the coffee shop. He walked back into the Hargreeves (uh.....Sparrow) mansion with a small smile on his face. His face hurt, not from too much sun, or biting his lips too much. From pure excitement and joy, he found. Bubbling out of him, steamrolling its way out into the open. His fists shook in glee, and he squealed, and he didn’t care. For once. He needed something good, and she was it. Beautiful Topazi. Wonderful Topazi. That’s the answer.

  Klaus came back to his senses as he realized that some of the marshmallow fluff had leaked its way onto the counter where he scooped it up with a finger, tempted to put it into his mouth. A few moments of thinking gave him his decision. He imagined Topazi’s look of disgust when she caught him doing that once, and stuck his finger under the tap for a few moments, wiping the water off on his bare thigh. He finished his sandwich, and went back upstairs (once again avoiding Minnie). He snuggled next to his partner in bed, breathing in deeply. Yeah....she’d need a bit of a shower when she woke up, but that’s alright. That’s alright though. She would spend the rest of the day at home, to rest from being on her feet and knees for hours the previous day. And he’d tell her how important and beautiful she is, and think about how he’d almost went to the pizza shop across the street. But he didn’t. And he chose right, so right. With no regrets, for the first time he could think of in a while.

Masterlist

[voidcat]

— Seijoh 4 & dom!reader

a/n: this is legit my first time writing nsfw so yea b kind pls. I was getting tired of sub!reader stuff and I’m not the most sexual person but yea have a lil dom!reader w the boys,,, as a treat,, I’d also like you all to know that Nicole enabled this... thanks for supporting the sad horn knee hours wife<3

mostly gender neutral reader but i just realized i used nicknames “miss/mistress” few times so yea

Hanamaki Takahiro:

Oh boy is he excited!.. the moment this slips out of your mouth, he is fuming, vibrating from where he’s sitting and can’t wait to get home.

He is always open to try new things. Back in the day you two tried a thing or two but you were unsure how he’d act so you downplayed often... but now that knowing you’re a dom, the things you can do with the trust you share, shit, did it get hot in here?

On random days, he’ll just go “hey babe what do you think of this?” And show you a page of strap ons, for you to choose. some days he’ll practically beg to be pegged. he loves your demanour when you’re in charge, the air within you when you’re the one in control is, comforting but each night a new adventure and he just can’t get enough of it, of you.

Probably the two of you start with a basic list of things to try and see what he is into. When it comes to spanking, you warn beforehand again and say you’ll do it only once. Holding back yourself and smacking him as lightly as you can, you watch his face for any changes. The moment your hand makes contact with his skin, he lets out a “yelp!” and you stop right there, growing worried. Instead of a face in pain, teeth clenched and brows furrowed; he has the most satisfied and flushed face, eyes half closed and glossy and mouth slightly open. “Do it again babe, but harder this time? Please?”

He probably gets on your nerves on purpose & loves it when you call him a brat or your good boy. Some days he’ll just call you to hang out at his place and when you arrive, you find him spread on the bed, touching himself, his eyes on your figure, staring right into your eyes “hope I haven’t disobeyed or crossed any lines Miss” (he’ll be pissing you off on purpose during your movie nights and let you teach him a lesson right on the couch, the counter or the table...)

Def calls you praises and names (especially titles, telling you over and over how much he loves and enjoys you, how he loves to be drowned in your presence, begging you for anything, even the tiniest bit of a kiss. 

He likes to shower together after a long night and wash each other’s hair, gently massaging your scalp and placing kisses all over your shoulders and the top of your head; whereas you gently kiss the places you’ve bitten and bruised, smothering his face with kisses.

Oikawa Tooru

This boy here, loves to act tough and all but let’s face it, he is a switch. It’s a typical Never Have I Ever game and at one point bedroom talk enters the game. He takes notes of the things you drink to, curious and you swear you catch a spark of excitement when you make it plainly obvious you’re a dom. Although that spark leaves as fast as it has appeared and you brush it off as a play of light.

That night when you return home, he practically jumps at you, a little rougher than usual and you’re sure why. Letting him pin you to the wall, hands roaming your body greedily, you let him live out the fantasy. The kisses now rough, one minute his lips on yours, the next on your neck, shoulders, collarbones... desperate to sink his teeth in and leave some marks. You think to yourself, that’s enough.

Next thing Oikawa knows, he is the one pinned to the wall, his wrists pinned above his head. With your unoccupied hand, you graze your finger lightly on his figure, jaw, neck and chest. “Someone is feisty.” he won’t tell at first but definitely got a thing for being marked and marking, and honestly? you don’t need him to tell you that.

orgasm denial!!! lots of it!! first two times you take pity on him and let him but the third time? the smug bastard is so sure you will let him come again but surprise!, as soon as you come, you leave him high and dry. he tries solving the issue by himself (which only makes things worse) after like 5 days of no orgasm on his part, he finally gets the clue, is on his... better behaviour; once you allow him to come, the days long of wait is worth the pleasure but he learns not to test you like this again. (however, this won’t stop him from disobeying you few more times just to get you to be rougher)

public teasing!! pda is already a given but you guys use remote controlled toys some days (usually you have the remote and he is the one who does his best to keep quiet) the driving and being near the edge of his climax is painful but he manages to hold himself until you two return home (or find a safe place to take care of it) and the endless wait and your cruel play with the toy’s settings is worth the wait. oikawa shivers every single time.

besides these, he likes to dress up and put on make up. and he is quite picky when it comes to lingerie the two of you wear, he checks the fabric qualities and colors beforehand, after all you only deserve the best of the best. he’ll be picking palettes to compliment your features best, loves using highlighter and always picks a dark shade of lipstick for each other; just to see how many times you’ll have to reapply until you’re both covered in its colors.

Iwaizumi Hajime

Ok so I know he has the brute facade going and everyone thinks he’s a dom but hear me out: actually quite soft switch/sub-leaning iwachan

Its a night out w the gang and during a drinking game oikawa makes a snark at you being such a dom in the streets AND in bed. to this blood rushes to Iwa’s cheeks and not many pay attention to it, bc he gets blushy easily plus he has been drinking too. but his mind? Oh he’s for sure imagining scenarios on what you could do to him.

Orgasm denial isn’t much of a thing because he’s very obedient. he’ll do his best to please you and follow your each and every word, watch your lips to hear your next words. for him, your word is law at this point... it’s almost impossible to deny him or those puppy eyes and those sweaty arms anything. He will call you ma’am, mistress, your highness, my goddess... whatever you wish and do not wish for. He loves praising you and ramble about how perfect and holy, etheral and magnificent you are.

lowkey into being tyed up, handcuffed and/or bondage. absolutely loves seeing you in full control. some days you won’t even bother to get undressed while he’s squirming under your touch fully stripped, begging for the tiniest bit of release. sometimes you’ll do the smallest gesture of taking control and he’ll be drooling, not even joking, this man LOVES IT when u take the ropes into ur hands (both metaphorically and literally) loves to lose control and wait for you to do whatever your heart desires, he wants to be what you desire.

(lowkey got a “corruption kink” too) when you two decide to shake things up a bit one day, you bring up some games, activities and kinks (mostly stuff he has only heard of) and, and he’s hard on the spot. lowkey into you wearing leather and gagging him up, his hands tied. he doesn’t mind blindfolds but watching you is so breathtaking, he even does his best to blink as little as possible. he loves it when you ride him to the point of orgasming for the 6th time that day, he’s ready to do anything for you, be your good boy and please you til world’s end.

very very good at oral too, his arms arent the only muscles he’s good at using, he loves your taste, your fingers in his mouth, his fingers in your mouth and in you. feeling your warmth however you want is enough to be content.

not something you do often but having sex in front of the mirror, seeing you in different angles drives him crazy, watching you covered in sweat, shining, panting, telling him how good you are is enough to make him drunk. but still he prefers to be chest to chest, you in his lap, riding him as he holds you to his chest, feeling your skin against his, burning with each move, rubbing against each other.

Matsukawa Issei

of all his relationships and hookups, Issei always encountered subs. few times his partners were doms, they were still submessive to him so when he finds out realizes you’re a dom, needless to say, he’s intrigued...

it kinda starts off with sex in front of a mirror one night, your back pressed against his chest, you’re riding him as his face buried in yourneck and his hands howering over you and suddenly, you grab his hands and out them at his sides, hold his chin and make him look at the mirror: “now watch hoe good i’ll be fucking you and your brains out until you won’t get a coherent sentence out.” you whisper in a low voice and do you deliver as you’ve said? but he got tricks up his sleeve too...

Most of the time, it’s rough and the fire play as well as powerplay takes most of the time. There’s always a battle for dominance, which leaves you both covered in marks and bruises. To say neither of you like it, would be unfair, especially when he disobeys you or flirts with other people beforehand, stepping on your nerves on purpose. (the quiet moans he lets out as you bite his neck, his collarbones, his earlobe, chest and thighs is an indicator if you ever need one.)

And thighs! Lots of thigh biting, massages, rubbing with fingers, or just squeezing the others head inbetween thighs is a given during oral and any foreplay that involved pecks and love bites in that area.

And as it is rough, you two always take your time, having a gentleness to jt in your own way. Be it a soft kiss out of nowhere, a certain way of bucking your hips or thrusting his hips into you. And as things are rough, it’s also when you get to let it all out, be yourself, unstrained.

Some days you’ll drop by his current job, or he’ll stop by at your place, and if he sees you in a headspace that’s too distracted, bothered or irritated by something, or just down; he’ll pick you up, wrapping your legs around him, pressing to you and nibbling on your neck and literally fuck your frustrations out. Those times he lets you take the ropes into your hands but if you’re not up for even that, he’ll take the charge on the spot, and leave clear marks to keep your mind off things for days. And in return, you’ll leave claw marks on his back, tug at his hair and press him to yourself until all you can feel is him; some days you’ll flip the both of you out of nowhere and press his head against your chest, hold his hands behind his back and guide him with your body, his muffled breathes tingling your chest, the nape of your neck and your lips; until your skins red, lips bleeding and gentle purples decorating all over you.

(and he’s a sucker for it. some days he’ll go in town to get something for you to use on him and drop at your place without a card or a name. If asked, he always denies, claiming he’d not get you things to make it easier to control him but the sight of you holding a whip and he can feel the blood rushing already, tugging at his belt and your tshirt. He hopes it’ll be just like that one time you pressed against his dick with high heels, making him beg to come.)

tags: @myelocin​ @atsumu-brainrot​

[unstoppableforcce]

dark side

CHAPTER EIGHT: a slip

pairing: Javier Peña x reader

previous part | next part | masterlist

a/n: okay i had this queued to go up during my vacation but then it didn’t post (no surprise there lol) but it’s okay! bc i didn’t like it much anyways and this version is so much better now honestly (so tumblr saved me lol)

its still short bc I cut it in half so i can post this and simultaneously work on the next part !! maybe next part tomorrow night? I don’t want to get hopes up but maybe !! thanks for being so patient w me guys !!

It was a slip right?

The words repeated over and over again in his head and for minutes he just stood there with the phone in his hand, long after you had already ended the call, letting them repeat. They bounced around like an echo between his ears, hitting every inch of his head. It was the only thing he could focus on. 

But it was a slip, wasn’t it? A simple slip of the tongue. 

At least, that was what he tried to tell himself to steal even the tiniest bit of focus back. He had work to focus on, finding Christina to focus on... he had to hang up the phone and get on a plane. He had to focus on something other than you, and to do that, he had to tell himself that it was a slip and that it was meaningless. 

It was meaningless, like telling your waiter at a restaurant that they should enjoy their meal as well. Just a slip.

Meaningless.

And for the first few hours, that worked. It got him back on the plane, it got him thinking about getting Christina back and getting Jurado’s testimony. It got him back focusing on his work, prioritizing it over you like he was supposed to do. Work was supposed to come first, that was the whole basis for your relationship. 

This was just the first time it felt wrong... No, it was the first time he admitted it did. 

There were plenty of times that came before where his heart weighed heavy having to put you at arm’s distance to protect his work. That morning in the shower, as your hands cascaded with the hot water down his skin, your eyes just pleaded to help him, to alleviate the heavy stress... but he put work first. That night, after the Ambassador’s drink party, when he started asking you about work, putting his job before your’s and your loyalty, he put work first. The day he caught one of the god father’s and you paid the price, suffering in the shouting match delivered by Stechner while he kept his mouth shut about your arrangement, he put his work first. 

And it had felt wrong every time, but it was only very recently that he figured out why. 

It was because even though you ended whatever things were between the two of you before he left for Curaçao, he loved you. It was because now, even after fighting through the new pain of heartbreak inflicted by another, he loved you. 

It was because for the first time in his entire life, he loved someone and they said it back. For the first time, he wanted them to say it back. For the first time, there was no obligation, no sense of doing it because it was the right thing to do or because that was what was expected of you. For the first time, someone told them they loved him because they meant it, because you meant it. 

Even if it was just a meaningless slip. 

But who was he kidding? Putting work before his feelings for you, trying to pretend that it was just some meaningless slip... it just wouldn’t work. 

The problem was that he knew better. He knew you better.

Part of it was the creeping memories of his psychology degree from what felt like a whole lifetime ago, part of it was just the fact that he knew you too well. 

Slips weren’t meaningless and you were too careful for anything you did to be meaningless.

Slips came out when they were practiced phrases. Telling your waiter to enjoy their meal as well was a practiced phrase, maybe not meant for your waiter, but practiced on your tongue nonetheless. That’s why they came out, they were practiced.

And he heard almost all your phone calls.

You were practically living with him for a few weeks, he heard your phone calls even if he didn’t listen to them, and you never told anyone you loved them over the phone. So it couldn’t have been practiced in that way. The only way it could have been practiced was if you were thinking it, over and over again, the same way he was.

It didn’t matter that you were exhausted, that whatever was happening at work was weighing you down so far that you snapped and broke up with him... none of that mattered. Because a slip doesn’t put words in your mouth that you wouldn’t say naturally. 

It wasn’t meaningless. It couldn’t be, not with you. If it slipped from your lips, it was because you meant it. 

And he couldn’t get it out of his head, no matter how hard he tried or pretended he had. Work had to come first and all he could think about was you, the quick words playing over and over again in his head.

“Bye, love you”, “Bye, love you”, “Bye, love you”, “Bye, love you--

Fuck. He loved you and goddamn, maybe you loved him too.

And maybe none of it mattered because work had to come first. He had to find Christina, he had to focus.

As his plane slowed to a stop on the runway adjacent to the embassy, he quickly jumped up, grabbing his bag and moving to the door, ready to burst out the second they let him. He had his focus back for a minute and he needed to ride it as far as he could take it.

He just didn’t know that it would only take him a few steps onto the runway, finding you dressed in your street clothes, crossing over from the opposite direction with a file in your hand.

He froze on the spot, letting the gusts of wind that fought by dishevel his hair without second thought. You were all that he could see. 

He never saw you in your street clothes, or at least, he hadn’t since the first night he met you. It was just pant suits and sometimes nothing at all. But now, you were just wearing jeans and a tee shirt, your hair blowing in the same blustering wind that threatened to push him over as he stood caught, like a deer in the headlights.  

Immediately, his brain started up again, accelerated, like the beating of his heart. 

He loved you. You loved him. He loved you. You loved him—

He couldn’t do this right now. He had to focus. 

Shaking his head in a way that surely looked like he was trying to save his hair from the wind, he tried to shake the thoughts from his head. And by the looks of it, you were fighting a similar onslaught of thoughts. 

But by the time you crossed the runway to meet his frozen form, you had picked the line of focus you were going in on and it wasn’t the slip you had made over the phone. With your stern face and file in hand, it was clearly work that you had chosen as well.

“I found her.” You shouted slightly to counteract the loud wind that whipped around the two of you. 

It wasn’t as easy a fight for him to overcome now that you were in front of him though. As you passed the file to him, he couldn’t help but spend an extra half-second mesmerized by you and your ability to do your job. He had called you what? a few hours ago and you had already found her? Even if being a blonde white girl in Colombia was like wearing a tracker, it was still impressive work that you had done for him. 

Work you had done because he asked... No. He stopped himself quickly. This was about finding Christina, not the fact that you had done it for him. 

He flipped open the file, not hesitating on the fact that it was a CIA file but fighting the wind to keep the papers from flying away. “Where is she?”

“FARC has her in a jungle stronghold.” You explained, stepping up closer to him to point at the picture paper-clipped to the bottom of the file.

It was definitely her, filthy and restrained, newspaper in her hand and the barrel of a gun pressed up under her chin. This was his fault. All of it. Getting her involved and now you... he couldn’t shake this feeling that something was going to go terribly wrong. 

But he also couldn’t linger on just a feeling. This was his job, he had to get her back. 

“You’ve got coordinates?” He asked, glancing up from the file’s top edge to find your stare directed down to your feet. Immediately, his heart dropped a similar distance. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s... look, it’s complicated.” You huffed, settling your hands up onto your hips as you brought your eyes back up to meet his. “You’ll need an army to get her back, the Ambassador won’t give it to you and I can’t either...”

He flipped a page in the file almost subconsciously, glancing down from your hesitant frame to find an all too familiar name scribbled at the top in red pen and your handwriting.

The Castaño Brothers.

“They’re CIA sponsored communist killers, two of Stechner’s contacts but I can’t get you a meeting because—”

“Fuck.” He huffed, shutting the file as it all caught up to him.

The interruption caught you off guard though, your face twisting slightly as you asked back to him, “what?”

This was what he hated about being in Colombia nowadays. It was his history, it was the blood that coated his hands, ten layers deep. 

He couldn’t stop himself from wondering if you knew or not. He got your file the first day he was truly introduced to you, but did you get his? You had to, right? Your whole job was to spy on him, how were you supposed to do that if Stechner didn’t fill you in on exactly what he was? 

He wasn’t the hero the embassy hailed him to be. He was just a man who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty to bring down Escobar. 

Did you know? Did it matter if you did? 

The more he thought about it, the more he realized those two questions had very different answers. 

You had to have known. If it wasn’t in his file, you had to have heard from everyone else around the Embassy. Hell, Stechner probably went out of his way to fill you in on his dirty past the day he assigned you to him. 

And that first night? You had to have seen it in him when you agreed to take him home with you. 

The guilt in his eyes... the pain that he wore just beneath the surface... the weight that sat so heavily on his shoulders...It was everything he saw in you, everything that drew him to you in the first place. The familiarity of everything about you.

Did it matter if you did know?

Looking at you now, as the woman he loved, he wanted to say yes because he wanted to be a good man in your eyes, he wanted to be a man worthy of your love but if he was being honest with himself... it didn’t matter at all. 

He had seen the scars on your body. He had hear rumors around the embassy as to why your file was as redacted as it was. 

There was talk about explosions and spying and foreign governments and... and maybe none of it was true but he saw the same guilt in your eyes that he saw in his own when he looked in the mirror. He saw you trying to do good with every girl being trafficked that you tried to hunt down the same way he tried to do good by bringing down the godfather’s of Cali. He saw a familiar weight resting on your shoulders as he massaged the sore kinks from your muscles laying in bed at night. 

It didn’t matter what either of you had done, you were both in the same boat and he knew that from the first second he laid eyes on you. 

You had a dark side just like he did, and he didn’t care about yours so why would his matter to you?

“I know them.” He admitted carefully, looking up to meet your stare and gauge your reaction. And when you held it back with equally as careful, he felt just enough ease to continue. “I can get their help.”

When your head gave a quick but approving nod, he felt the smallest release of tension in his shoulders. He had your trust, he could relax in that respect. The rest of the tension held though, because now he had to walk head first into the dark past he swore to himself that he left behind as he came back to Colombia. 

And he had to bring you with him. 

“Where do we find them?”

—

“What do pretty girls like you eat? Hmm? The picada here is the shit, I can get you a plate.”

“Oh, I’m on a strict diet of lots of coffee and not taking shit from people.”

Any fear he had about bringing you along to meet with Don Berna had flown out the open windows of the restaurant the instant you sat down next to him at the table, taking up a space equal to him as you spread your legs and you leaned back.

Your quick wit, your smart mouth... he had to stop and wonder for a second why he had even been afraid in the first place. 

Narcos may not have been your game, but you weren’t new to the world of terrible yet powerful men. If anything, you had been dealing with them for longer than you had even been with the CIA. And you were good at it. 

Your smart mouth was enough to bring a hefty chuckle to Berna’s chest as he ate, enough to shake the table slightly and even more when he let his fist fall to the wood to grab the bottle in front of him. 

“I like her, Peña.” He minded as he washed down his food with a swig from the bottle, shifting his disgusting stare off of you and back to the suited DEA hero sitting next to you. “You should bring her every time.”

Every time? Like this was some weekly regular meeting? God, Javi forgot just how much he hated this. 

“Can you help us or not?” He quickly moved to refocus the conversation, leaning forward just enough to level his strict stare with the large man and settle his elbows on the table.

“Can I help you find your barbie doll? Easily.” Berna spoke with an nonchalant shrug as he reached for his drink again and downed a solid swig to wash out the barely chewed food that his mouth was stuffed with. But once the shrug fell and the food was swallowed, his head tilted much more playfully than either you or Javi could take comfort in. “Can you afford my price... maybe not so easy.”

You glanced to Javi in the same second he glanced to you, but the words fell from your lips first. “What’s the price?”

“A promise.”

The two of you didn’t need to verbally urge him to continue, your furrowed brows took care of that for you. Berna took another few bites, then another drink, then sat back with his napkin in hand and continued.

“One day, my name will pop up on the DEA’s to-do list, and all you have to promise me you’ll do, is give me a phone call.”

You scoffed at that, just loud enough to get the few guards who waited a few feet away to turn and look at the obvious show of disrespect. Thankfully, Berna just seemed amused by it, laughing into his meal. But Javi didn’t have the guts you had to back your brazenness, not as he began considering what that really meant. 

“A get out of jail free card?” He repeated back carefully in English as he drew his arms back to cross over his chest, leaving you leaned forward on the table. 

But again, Berna just shrugged, “Exactly.”

You glanced back to Javi, maybe in a look of commiseration or maybe to try and warn him against what you had to be sure he was going to do. Whatever look it was, he didn’t hold your stare long enough to decipher it. He didn’t have the luxury to let you get into his head right now. 

Because maybe you’d try to change his mind and he couldn’t afford that. 

He needed to get Christina back and you had made it clear on the runway that this was your only chance to get to FARC in the jungle and get her out safely. He knew you were too good at your job to not have found an easier way if one existed so that left this as his only option. Whatever Don Berna wanted, he was going to get and he knew it. 

That was why he looked so damn smug as he pestered with and easy, “Agent Peña?”

It was a promise to break the law, but what was his defense? Tell him ‘no, I know I did that for you in the past but not anymore’? It just wouldn’t work. Berna knew he was desperate because he was desperate. 

He liked to think that you’d do the same if you were in his shoes, he liked to think that you wouldn’t judge him for it. 

And as he looked back to meet the stare you passed him that he had carefully avoided, he found you already looking to the table in front of you, like you knew his answer before he had even come close to admitting it aloud. 

Either because you knew him that well or because that was what you would do and you couldn’t blame him for doing the same. 

“Fine. You have a deal.”

“Then lets go kill some communists.” Berna bellowed out loudly, earning a few chuckles from his men who stood around.

And you couldn’t help but laugh at that too. Not because killing communists was something you relished in, quite the opposite actually. 

You were surely laughing because of that day you spent in the jungle with him. The day you told him you didn’t come to Colombia for drugs or communism. 

Yet here you were. 

If he had the heart to laugh, maybe he would have mustered on as well at the irony of it all. Instead, he stood up with you and everything quickly got started. 

Before the two of you knew it, you were both dressed in green fatigues, loaded into the helicopter and headed off towards the jungle as you continued to fight off Berna’s comments.

“So, if you’re not DEA, what part of the gringo government can handle you?” He mocked playfully, practically licking his lips as he watched you lean forward to fix your feet in your boots.

“What makes you think anyone can handle me?” You easily retorted, growing a smirk on Javi’s face that he struggled to hide.

Berna was equally as amused, chuckling with each and every smart remark you mustered.

And it just kept going.

“Did he find you in a brothel? You know how he likes his brothels and hell, I know plenty of men who would pay for someone like you.”

Javi sent him a warning glare but you weren’t deterred.

“There isn’t enough money in the Narco world.”

“You’d be surprised, sweetheart.”

Eventually, you just rolled your eyes and switched off your headset and about a half hour later, the three of you ended up deep in the jungle, unloading night vision goggles for the Castano’s with ease.

You looked oddly comfortable in the green fatigues, strapping on a bullet proof vest, and loading your weapon.

He knew it was because underneath the sullen spy exterior you put on for work, and the sexy smirk you wore as you straddled him in his bedroom, you were a soldier. That’s what you had been before all of this.

And for the briefest of seconds, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like to meet you in that phase of your life.

Without Colombia weighing down on his shoulders, when he was still just a simple DEA agent back in the states, would he have stumbled into you in a bar while you were on leave? Would it have been the sense of a dark familiarity in your bones that drew him to you on one of his darkest nights, haunted by the phantom bloodied hand as he sipped his whiskey, or would it have been your buoyant smile and the sway of your hips?

Would you love him all the same? Would your unscarred bodies feel as right as they did now, slotted against each other as your lips danced over his?

Was he glad that he met you now, because it gave him the chance to know you at all, or did he want you without all of Colombia, without the war and the work and Stechner and your job and his...

Did he want you as a respite from the darkness that haunted him at night or did he want you for you?

The longer he stared at you across the table while you prepared for the incursion, the more he realized that it had started out as a simple reprieve from work and the stress that came with it but that wasn’t what it was anymore. Whether you broke up with him or not. He loved you. Not for your work, though your competency certainly was a turn on, but just for you.

And it was getting easier and easier to think about in his head, becoming more and more practiced. He loved you for you.

For your smile when you woke up and rolled over to kiss his forehead first thing before you got up every morning.

For the sanity he felt when he was wrapped in your arms, no matter what was going on outside.

For everything he was when he was with you that he wasn’t when he was without you. Soft, human, unburdened... a good man...

Colombia had nothing to do with it. It was just you and him. 

“Thank you.” He said pretty silently, trying to keep it just between the two of you as the sun began to set around you, casting shadows over your face while you assembled the M4 in front of you with ease.

His words stopped you though, your hands freezing as your stare switched back up to him. “For this?”

He nodded, “you don’t have to be out here for this, you don’t have to be putting your life on the line for me—“

“Javi, don’t...”

“I’m serious.” He fought as he positioned his gun in the back of his pants. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“You’re doing this for me—“

“Yeah, and if I thought for a second you wouldn’t do the same for me, maybe I’d hesitate but...” you sighed, shaking your head as your attention dropped back to your work, your hands still moving with practiced ease. “Just... you don’t have to thank me.”

Someone shouted something from across the small camp, signalling that everyone was ready to go and you quickly snapped the rest of the gun together and strapped it over your vested chest. But before you moved to head out into the jungle clearing and towards the helicopter, he caught your arm and pulled you towards him, as much as he could with the two of you wearing your bulky bullet proof vests. 

He lowered his voice as he brought his head closer to yours in spite of your protest, “thank you.”

And that was when you reached your hand back around his head and caught him completely off guard, bringing your lips to his for a brief kiss. A brief kiss that burned the same way your words had in his mind as the phone call from hours ago ended. With the simple touch of your lips to his, you were confirming everything you had when you ended the phone call, everything that had been occupying his thoughts the whole day.

“You don’t have to thank me.” You sighed one last time before turning away and following the soldiers and Castano brothers to the helicopter. And he heard the unspoken words that follow it. 

You didn’t want him to thank you because you loved him and you knew he loved you, you knew he’d do the same for you. 

He didn’t need to guess if it was a slip or not anymore, that didn’t matter.

He knew you loved him. And fuck, he really loved you.

Now, he had a war zone to head into and a woman to rescue. And with you by his side, things didn’t feel so dark anymore. 

tags: 

@the-feckless-wonder  @arrowswithwifi  @ms-dont-care @leo-moon @tiffdawg @readsalot73 @way-too-addicted-to-anime @keeper0fthestars @adikaofmandalore @opheliaelysia @magneticbucky @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ @larakasser @littlevodika @mandoren @mistermiraclee @rogueonestan @kaetastic @littlemissthistle @maytheglitter(open)

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

May I request GHJPU for Sebastian? Sebby needs more love :D (eee sorry if any of this overlapped or its too much, have a cookie for your troubles 🍪)

DID SOMEBODY SAY LOVING SEBASTIAN HOURS!?!?!?!?! FERAL EYE GLEAM

Bless your heart!!! Sebastian has found a new and very dear place in my heart as of late, I would be delighted to offer my thoughts!!!!! :D (your cookie offering has been accepted with the utmost glee 🍪, I hope my humble writing efforts will bring you equal joy, lovely~💖💖💖) 

G = Gifts (How does he feel about gift giving? What are his habits when it comes to this?) 

Awwww haha, baby boy Sebby is honestly a very observant and reliable kind of S/O, I think. He will notice even the tiniest of changes in MC’s expression--the slightest shifts in her temperament. As a result of his attentive nature he has an easy time deducing the things she might like, always makes a mental note of where her eyes linger. Is there a classic she once loved in her time being published for the first time in their era, on display at a bookstore nearby? Noted. Does she hover near shops filled with self-care products--things like scented candles or lotions or bath salts, things she considers indulgent luxuries? Noted. Is there an outfit that caught his eye in a boutique, something he thinks would complement her complexion perfectly? Noted. 

The thing about Sebastian is that his gifts will be heartfelt, timely, and devastatingly thoughtful. Whether something small or something lavish it will always be precisely what she needs/wants, and she can sense the loving care he put into finding the perfect gift.

H = Holding Hands (When/how does he like to hold hands?)

Honestly? Sebastian has spent the better part of his life alone. His circumstances weren’t the worst; for all that he’s lost in his life he never went hungry, lived comfortably. But...that doesn’t change the fact that his life has been fairly devoid of meaningful human contact. Even in college, friends and close colleagues were hard to come by. The few people he did develop budding feelings for he always gave up on long before it could become any kind of substantial relationship. He was always the type to admire from afar, never really felt worthy of the people he liked.

It was MC that was the first to reach out to him, and for the first little while in their relationship she will be the one most naturally inclined to reach for him. He isn’t really used to having someone by his side like this, somebody who would be delighted to hold his hand--who wants to be close to him. It’s always a shock when they go grocery shopping and he just feels her fingers wrap gently around his. She blushes a little and says something about not wanting to get separated, but it’s clear what her real motivation was.

After those first few months, it becomes much more natural for him to reach for her hand when they’re traveling somewhere together or when they’re alone. He likes to intertwine their fingers, loves the way they fit against his perfectly. His shyness wears off after a while, and it’ll be rare to see them together without them holding hands--unless they’re cooking or at work.

J = Jokes (Does he like to joke around with or prank her? How?)

Do you know how cats have their eyes all narrow thin pupil but then they go REALLY REALLY round? That’s Sebastian. I tend to refer to it as “Silly Time Mode Engaged.”

Now then, his kind of joking is very dry and very deadpan. It’s subtle and immediate, so if you’re not attuned to it it can be easy to miss. That, or people just look at him weird because they don’t quite get the connection he’s making and/or the delivery feels off because his facial expression doesn’t change at all, completely flat. That being said, one of his all time favorite things to do is to say something absurd or nigh histrionic (which tends to be uncharacteristic of him) and wait for the confused head turn/startled laughter to hit. He will make puns and play on words all the time--he puts his academic knowledge to good use.

“I swear when I first met you I was convinced you were an AI.” “Alexa taught me everything I know.” He’ll bow. “Oh? Do I have competition, in that case?” “Your speakers are suboptimal (he pokes her freckles), but you possess what Alexa lacks.” “And that would be?” He’ll gather her close, smiling against her lips. “My heart.” :D cutest robot I ever saw uwu

Bonus bc I have a problem: “Is stealing hearts in Alexa’s programming? Just to be safe, of course.” “I think it’s safe to say it isn’t within the parameters of her design--but that doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods just yet.” cue sounds of tickling and laughter

The other way Sebastian messes with MC is that he is an ENORMOUS tease in the bedroom. He’s very much the kind of lover that prefers to tantalize and draw things out; a long, slow seduction that will render MC immobile from the pleasure by the end. The promise of a kiss is almost always only a whisper of the feeling he intends to drown her in. Remember that Sebastian’s stoicism belies a nigh inhuman ardor and self-control. He’s more than willing to leave her wanting in order to fully capitalize on that desire later at night.

P = Pet Names (What does he like to call her?)

Other than her name? HE DOESN’T AHAAHAHAHAHA Just kidding of course, but given where he comes from pet names between couples aren’t...really a thing…(take it up with Japan, I Was Today Years Old, my sappy romantic ass would never survive)

The funny inverse of this though is that he does NOT fuck around with people that try to call MC pet names. When Arthur Tries It™ he canonically goes all steely saccharine, openly telling the others they’re together. So none of that “luv” or “doll” business, he will not have it (he won’t fight the purebloods on it because 1. they’re more like doting grandfathers than anything and 2. Sebastian does not have a death wish). If MC has a nickname of some kind, then I could see him using that or adding his own spin on it with a great deal of affection c:

U = Upset (How does he act when she’s upset?)

Whether he was the cause or not, Sebastian has a single modus operandi when his beloved is upset (and to anyone who’s upset really) and that is to offer gentle reassurance/an apology. He is very, very sensitive to the feelings of others and really takes it to heart when someone isn’t feeling well. That being said, he won’t always be overt about his concern--he’s more the type to do little things that offer constant support/reminders that he’s there for them. 

If it’s something more serious, he will do everything in his power to minimize the harm done and sooth the MC. His attempts to comfort her will be tender, muted, and consistent; prolonged hugs, doubles his offering of sweets, makes her favorite foods, gives her a relaxing bath salt to use--anything that he knows for certain will coax her lips up into a smile. He’s the type to freely offer space for her to figure things out if she needs it, but he will also be watchful; he won’t let things escalate if she needs externalized support to heal (bc lbr some problems we can’t solve alone ;-;).

His other go-to method is to offer distractions in any capacity that he can. Will offer to teach her a new recipe, or find a new type of flower he wants to plant together, or make up some kind of project he needs help with. Sometimes he’ll genuinely need the help, but most of the time he does it for the express purpose of getting her mind away from negative things and focused on him/the present. It’s hard to dwell on upsetting things when you’re body is physically demanding something else from you, even more so if it’s a fairly complex task. She’s known to be very dutiful; she’ll be so focused on doing a good job she’ll forget the sadness/irritation for a bit and the intensity of the emotion might ebb slightly.

If the issue is lighter, he’ll probably just cuddle/tickle her back to fighting spirit, pressing kisses wherever he can reach until she starts giggling. In these instances he prefers to hug her from behind, a reminder that she doesn’t have to face anything unpleasant or unnerving all on her own; he’ll always be there to hold her steady whenever she needs him. 

And rest assured, this man is always gathering data to optimize his comfort capabilities. He is incredibly adaptable, and will always be watching her reactions closely to adjust his strategies.

[yikesharringrove]

Umm, I accidentally deleted the request for this while moving it to my inbox, so here it is. (Also this is like, four months old).

I’m gonna rec this fic which is super well written and adorable

Steve is ftm. (Personally, I’m not a big fan of mpreg unless it’s like, biologically plausible 🤷‍♀️)

Under the cut bc it’s long and there’s a little bit of smut.

-

Billy’s hands were shaking as he raced out of the house.

He had a bag slung over one shoulder, had already put two others in the Camaro.

His dad had gone in hard today. Three days after Billy graduated high school and he’s already calling him a deadbeat, a fuck up. Telling him to get a job like he hasn’t worked every summer and most weekends since he was fourteen.

He lit a cigarette as he slid into the driver’s seat.

He was gonna make one stop on the way outta town.

-

Steve had given Billy a spare key months ago, after he was tired of always having to go downstairs and answer the door.

He liked it when Billy just made his way up, started kissing whatever skin was already exposed and asking Steve if he’s wet.

Tonight, Steve thought, was no different.

Billy was kissing up his calf, mouthing along his knee, a few fingers creeping up the leg of his shorts.

Billy was the best sex he’s ever had. Not a lot of gay guys will go down on Steve, some won’t even fuck him. He had been real hesitant to tell Billy, start having regular sex with his best friend, because he didn’t think Billy would want anything to do with him when he knew what he was bringing to the table.

But Billy had told him not to be an idiot, ate him out, and pounded him into the mattress.

And Steve was in love.

So he let Billy fuck him whenever he pleased, because at least Billy was giving him the time of day, at least he was getting some.

He opened his eyes, smiling lazily down at Billy.

“‘Time is it?”

“Almost two.” Billy was curling two fingers into his waistband, slowly pulling down his shorts, like maybe Steve wouldn’t notice.

Steve lifted his hips, and Billy whipped off his shorts, diving right in for his pussy.

He ate him out with the same fervor he did everything. Making all these gross slurping sounds, sucking on Steve’s cock and shoving his tongue inside him.

He made Steve cum twice on his face, as was the norm, before wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, and getting right to business.

He fucked Steve like he was mad at him.

He often did. And Steve knew he wasn’t mad at him, moreso mad at the other him, the him that’s ruined Billy’s life since before he was even born.

Steve wasn’t as dumb as everyone thought. Knew that when Billy snuck into his bedroom at odd hours of the night and absolutely ravished him, something bad had happened with his dad.

So when Billy finally rolled off of him, and lit a cigarette, Steve knew better than to ask.

“I’m leaving.” Steve just hummed at him. Billy sometimes stuck around after sex.

But Billy didn’t move.

“Like, leaving Hawkins.” Steve just hummed again. Billy talked a lot about leaving Hawkins. Steve had always secretly dreamed of running away with him. 

Billy just studied his face in the dark, stubbing out his cigarette and rolling over to hols Steve close to his chest.

Steve closed his eyes, let himself pretend.

Pretend that Billy loved him back.

-

He woke up to rustling, Billy getting dressed to leave as weak sunlight began to trickle through his curtains.

“Oh shit, didn’t mean to wake you.”

He smiled lazily at Billy.

“You comin’ back over tonight?” Billy looked stiff.

“Probably not. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah. Later.” Billy was sitting on the end of his bed, had just finished tying on his boots.

And then he moved, quick as a flash to kiss Steve softly before he was thundering down the stairs.

Steve was just falling asleep as the Camaro roared away.

-

Billy had skipped town that night.

And Steve never forgave himself.

-

Steve was leaning over the counter, his head pressed into the cool top of it.

“I threw up all last week, and I just feel like shit.” He had been whining to Robin practically all morning at Family Video.

“Do you think you have the flu?”

“I don’t know, Rob. I mean, my stomach hurts a lot, but like, it feels like I’m just having awful cramps.”

“Are you on your period?”

“Nah. Don’t get it very often with the hormones anymore.”

“Normally I’d suggest pregnancy, but I know you’re in a bit of a dry spell.” He rolled slightly to look darkly at her. “Still no word of Billy?”

“No. The one person in Hawkins that isn’t too transphobic to fuck me, and he skips town.” Steve sighed. “I should’ve known, too. He was being super weird that night.”

“Whatever. When you and I skip town, we’ll have the time of our damn lives, and get you laid.” He laughed softly.

“I’m just gonna go to the doctor this weekend. Get a full physical.”

“Let me know the verdict at and I can come over with some medicine, if you need.”

“Thanks, Rob.”

-

Steve was lying back on the stiff exam table.

He had already given blood and urine samples, and was just waiting for the doctor to tell him what the fuck was wrong with him.

Sometimes his hormones had to be adjusted, and caused all sorts of weird shit to go haywire in his body.

Dr. Mauch was a kind woman, always been pleasant and accepting of Steve, even referred him to an endocrinologist for his hormones.

She didn’t smile when she came in, though. Just sat down at her stool.

“I’m going to go out a limb here and say that this is not news you’ll be happy about hearing.”

Steve felt his heart drop to his stomach.

“You’re pregnant.”

He blinked.

“No.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. But you most definitely are.”

“But, but I’m on blockers, and testosterone, and I haven’t had sex in months.”

“I’d say about six months.” His mouth was dry. Billy had left in late May. About six months ago. “And being on hormones is not an effective method of birth control. Some men still get pregnant after taking them.”

“I’m not, I don’t look pregnant.”

“Some people don’t really show their pregnancy. My sister was rail thin the entire time, had a perfectly healthy baby girl. It’s all about your body type.”

“So, so you’re telling me, that I’m six months fucking pregnant.”

“Yes.” He slumped back onto the exam table.

“What are, what are my options?”

“Well, unfortunately, not many. Abortions are only legal in Indiana up to 20 weeks, or five months, or unless the person pregnant is facing severely compromised physical health. There’s always adoption.”

“No one’s gonna want a baby from a trans guy.” She pursed her lips.

“I think that’s a harsh statement. Many people are desperate for babies.” Steve just stared at her.

“So, if I have to take it to term, should I like, go off my hormones.” His stomach gave a lurch at the idea.

“I would recommend it. There’s very little research one pregnancy in transgender individuals. We really don’t know how hormones can affect the baby.” Steve sighed. “I would say, get in with an OB/GYN. I can recommend a few I know and send them your medical history. Your name change and hormone therapy is part of all of it, so hopefully they will be kind.” Steve sighed.

“Thank you, Doc. I really appreciate it.”

“I’m sorry for the disappointing news.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” She gave him a copy of their appointment notes, a list of OB/GYNs for him to research, and a hug before she left.

He drove home slowly, feeling exhausted, like the weight of the fucking world was on his shoulders.

He got home to find Robin sitting on his front porch, her nose buried in a book, a pizza box sitting next to her.

She looked up at him, and he burst into tears.

-

“Look, Max, if he contacts you in any way, tell him to call Steve, okay? It’s important.” Robin was yammering to Max on the phone, trying to get a way to contact Billy.

Steve was laying on the couch, had his shirt rucked up over his stomach, pushing it out and sucking it in, trying to see any change in his body.

“Just give him Steve’s phone number and tell him he’s an asshole.” She hung up the phone, perching on the armrest at Steve’s feet.

“She know where he is?”

“No. She said he ran off and hasn’t contacted her at all. She didn’t even know he was leaving.” She slid onto the couch, let Steve put his feet on her lap. “You think he’d come back? If he knew?”

“I don’t know. I’m not really asking him to. I mean, I don’t think I’m in a place to take care of it, but I kinda just want him to know it exists. Like, I think he deserves that.”

“I get it.” Her voice was soft. She watched Steve stare at his tummy some more. “I’m sorry. I’m sure this is just, dysphoria out the wazoo.” Steve huffed a laugh.

“I don’t think it’s really hit me yet. I think ‘cause I’m not showing. I don’t look pregnant, so how can I be pregnant, you know?” He sighed tugging down his shirt. “Going to the doctor’s gonna be a damn nightmare, though. They’re too used to dealing with women. It’s gonna suck.”

-

Steve was right.

Even though his primary care doctor had sent his medical history, he still got deadnamed and misgendered at reception, and intake, and by the nurse, and the doctor when she finally arrived.

They gave him a pelvic exam, getting him in for a sonogram as well.

And as the doctor was moving the imagining wand around on his tummy, and he heard the heartbeat for the first time, something caved inside of him.

A baby. He was having a baby.

And part of him, a really fucking big part of him, was starting to love it.

-

His parents were home for four days.

And Steve had waited for the final day of their homesteading to tell them.

He’s glad he did.

Diner was as quiet as always, and Steve had nearly choked on the words.

“I’m pregnant.”

His father had gotten out his wallet, asked how much an abortion costs.

“I’m too far along for that. Nowhere will legally do it.”

His mother had just stared at him. His father asked how far along he was.

“Close to seven months. I didn’t even know until like, a week and a half ago.”

And his father had stood up, and the yelling began.

“I can’t believe you. You kick up this huge fuss, make us change your name, and the way we refer to you, go around telling everyone your a boy, and you get pregnant like the little slut you are.”

And he had told Steve to back his shit, told him he was not welcome in my house anymore.

And Steve didn’t have a lot of shit he cared about, the clothes he liked fit in one duffel bag.

His mother didn’t look at him as he left.

-

He had called Mrs. Henderson from a payphone.

Nobody else could give him a ride anymore, and he wasn’t expecting her to drop everything and drive him somewhere, but she had freaked out at the words kicked out and for getting pregnant, and told him to stay where he is.

She was there with a tight hug and a travel mug of honey lemon tea within twenty minutes.

Steve had asked for a ride to a youth shelter he had read about, but she shook her head, said you’re coming to live with me and Dusty and Steve had cried in her passenger seat, and again in her guest bedroom.

-

Steve groaned.

He had finally begun showing, just a little bit out a mound near his belly button.

But he felt like shit, had taken to spending most days in bed.

He bat away whoever was shaking him.

“Go away.”

“Steve, it’s Max.”

“I’m sleeping.”

“I found Billy, you asshole. I have his address.” Steve sat bolt up straight.

“You, where is he?”

“Boston. He went east, for some reason. But he sent me a letter, out of the blue, and I told him you had something important to say, but he said he doesn’t have a phone.” She handed him a slip of paper.

“Thanks, Max.” He gave her a weak smile, found her chewing her lip.

“Is he the father? The other father, I mean.” He had told the party about the pregnancy, figured rumors would begin spreading soon enough.

“Yeah. He’s the other father.”

“He wouldn’t have ditched you. If he’d known.”

“I know.”

“He’s not like that.”

“I know.” She stared him down. He kept his face open, honest.

“Are you gonna write to him?”

“Yeah. I just, I don’t really know what to say.”

“Just keep it simple. Tell him he’s got a kid. Let him choose what he wants.”

-

It took Steve almost a month to draft a letter.

He didn’t really know what to say.

He settled on the bare minimum.

I’m pregnant. And it is most definitely, without a doubt, yours. I’m not expecting anything from you. I don’t want money, or for you to move back to Hawkins. I just thought you deserve to know about your kid.

He read the letter about three times, one hand pressed delicately to his little bump.

I’ve decided to keep the baby. I’m going to raise them. You’re welcome to meet them, and be in their life if you choose, but if not, I’m not going to hold it against you.

He sealed the envelope, leaving it on his nightstand.

And then his contractions started.

He didn’t get around to sending it.

-

Claudia was the only person in the room with him when he gave birth.

She held his hand the whole time, coached him through his breathing.

And when his son was born, she pet his head, told Steve how beautiful he is.

-

Steve was slumped face down on the bed.

He had just gotten Oliver down, calmed him down enough for him to finally sleep.

He rolled over, scrubbing a hand down his face.

He had barely slept all week. But Oliver had smiled at him for the first time yesterday.

He turned to lay on his side, zeroing in on the envelope on his nightstand.

He sat up quickly.

Fuck. He needed to send that letter.

He didn’t bother thinking about it, just wrapped his sweater tighter around himself, and hurried to the mailbox. He put the little flag up, leaving the letter in the little inner clasp.

He looked back down at Oliver, running one finger over his fuzzy little head.

-

He didn’t hear from Billy for three weeks.

He knew the letter wouldn’t take more than a few days to get to him, and it would take just as long for Billy to get him back.

He had pushed Billy out of his mind, figured if he wanted to be part of Oliver’s life, he had given him enough of a chance to be.

He put on a thick sweatshirt, had taken to wearing baggy tops to hide his tits, too sore, too big to bind anymore. Oliver squealed at him when he leaned against the side of his crib, reaching out for him.

He strapped him into his stroller to take him on a walk, stopped dead in the doorway.

Billy fucking Hargrove was in the driveway, standing next to the Camaro like he had just gotten out of it.

His eyes were wide, trailing from Steve, to Oliver, and back again.

“Is that my kid?” Billy’s hair was shorter than when he had left.

“Oliver. His name is Oliver.” Billy stepped around the car.

“Can I, can I see him?” Steve brought the stroller down the driveway, taking Oliver out of the stroller.

Billy held him like he was made of gold.

“He’s beautiful.”

“I think he looks a lot like you.” Billy smiled at him.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here, I was waiting for my semester to end.”

“It’s okay. I just, you know. Thought you deserved to know about him.” Billy stared at Oliver, his smile going soft as Oliver squealed, tugging on Billy’s hair.

“I want to be in his life. If that’s okay?”

“Of course it is. He’s your son too.” Billy brushed his thumb down Oliver’s nose.

“Thank you, Steve. And I’m, I’m sorry about how I left. I was going to-” he cut himself off, looking back at Oliver. “I was gonna ask you to come with me. Chickened out last minute.”

Steve’s heart was banging against his rips.

“I would’ve gone with you. Used to dream about running away with you.” Oliver started getting fussy, making disgruntled little huffs. Billy passed him back to Steve. “I was in love with you. You know that?”

“Yeah, I knew that. Was to chicken shit to do anything about it.” Billy was still looking at Oliver, the way he nestled into Steve’s neck. “He loves you a lot.”

“It’s been the two of us for awhile.”

“You’re a good dad. Always kinda figured you would be, though.” Billy took another breath. “You know, you could’ve told me sooner. I would’ve come back.”

“I don’t want you to, to change you life. Don’t quit school, or something.”

“Steve, I got a kid. I want to change my life for him. For, for you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“No never did. I’m choosing this. I’m choosing my family.” Steve hesitated.

“Would you like to come in? Have some breakfast? You could give Oliver his bottle, If you wanted.” Billy’s eyes lit up.

“I’d like that.”

[christinesficrecs]

heyyy:) i hope you have a great day! i was asking if you could rec me some long fluff sterek fics bc i just got my wisdom teeth out and i am currently dying:))) thank uuuu and thank you for your hard work!

Hey!! I hope you are feeling better! 💜  Here are some fluffy fics to distract you. 🥰

Derelictions of Duty by Regann | 10.8K

No one wants to be the bearer of bad news to someone as nice as Sheriff Stilinski -- especially when he's your boss. That's why none of his employees want to be the first one to tell him about the scandalous goings-on between his only son and the former murder suspect Derek Hale. For all of their sakes, hopefully the Sheriff will find out all on his own...

First Impressions Are Overrated by Leslie_Knope | 14.6K

In Stiles’ defense, he didn’t deliberately ram his grocery cart into the (evidently precarious) pyramid of oranges.

What do you say (when there’s no more buffer) by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie) | 13.1K 

A convention is where two internet friends will finally meet. Derek’s only been in love with Stiles for years now, so it’s about time. Except nothing really goes according to plan, so Derek meets strangers (one of them really cute), a guy who made his fame being a werewolf on YouTube, and then maybe, finally, Stiles himself.

It's Always Been You, Dumbass by stilinskisparkles | 11K

“Alright, cool, we should go,” Stiles says breezily, dusting off his hands as he stands.

“We should?”

“Yeah!”

“But… Do you even care about photography?”

“Not as much as I should,” Stiles plants both his hands on the table, bracketing Derek in, “You’ll have to correct my miscreant ways.”

If being sexy was a crime, you’d be guilty as hell. by DropsOfAddiction | 14.3K | Explicit

Derek tries and fails to shut his gaping mouth as Stiles arrives at his desk, heartbeat rabbiting a little faster than usual.

Stiles grabs a file out of his desk, muttering something about forgetting to mail it yesterday and needing to get it down to filing by Monday. Derek’s barely paying attention, unable to concentrate with the scent of him right under his nose.

He leans over Derek to grab an empty envelope from their shared stationary tray and Derek knows he’s absolutely fucked when he sees how his trousers are moulded to his perfect ass.

“So.... how do I look?” Stiles asks casually as he stands back up, as if his very presence hasn’t just given Derek a very sudden and uncomfortable boner.

Mermaider by nothing_left_sacred | 15.5K | Mature

The one where a perfectly normal Beach Vacation escalates way too quickly, because this is Stiles' life.

On Building an IKEA Den for an Alpha Werewolf. | 13.8K

Senior Prom is coming up, and Stiles doesn't have a date. Additionally, Derek has an unfurnished apartment, and no one to take him to IKEA.

The Right Book, in the Right Hands by TroubleIWant | 10.6K | Mature

Stiles loves his job. Mostly. Like, maybe sixty-seven percent loves. For right out of college that's pretty good, right? And among people working in the Chicago O’Hare airport he's positive he's in the 99th percentile of job enjoyment.

When all is said and done, he really does love putting the right book into the right hands. Especially when those hands are as attractive as the ones attached to Hot Businessman Derek Hale.

Chocolate & Pomegranates by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 9.6K

Derek has been an Omega for what feels like centuries. He is constantly hounded by Alphas and Betas who can't control their hormones. He's thankful for Laura defending his honor, but there is one person he's always dreamed of giving himself to.

Too bad Derek is certain Stiles doesn't know he exists.

You're moving me around you (I said darling hold me) by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie) | 14.5K

Derek is the only beta in a pack of two, blaming himself for the loss of their entire family. When his sister pays someone to get him used to human contact again, Derek preps himself for a couple unwilling handshakes before he kicks the stranger out of his den. Stiles is... not what Derek expected.

Inevitability (About Damn Time) by accordingtomel | 9.7K | Explicit

So?” Scott says.

“So?” Stiles sputters, kicking his shoes into the corner and locking the front door behind him. He’d whipped out his phone the second he’d pulled up to the house, and miracle among miracles, Scott actually answered. Of course, he’s not so pleased about that now. “My dad thinks Derek and I are dating, Scott. Did you miss that part?”

I've Been Everywhere With You by Leslie_Knope | 61.5K | Explicit

“Dude, you should totally come with me.”

“What? Like on the road trip?"

“No, come with me. To Austin. Get out of Beacon Hills.”

Derek paused. “What?” he asked again.

Call Me (Cliché) by SomewheresSword | 84.6K | Mature

When the sheriff's sister ends up in a wheelchair for the duration of summer, Stiles' dreams of three months full of pack bonding, late-night video games and bro-time with Scott come crashing down. He's temporarily relocated to Redford, a three hour drive away, and he can already tell he won't be getting many visitors.

Sure the pack will forget about him while he's gone, Stiles is determined to make the most of his summer of isolation, training his body and mind - and his magic - so he can come back with a bang, and maybe catch a certain Sourwolf's eye.

Then Derek shows up at his window one night with a flimsy excuse about needing research done. Suddenly, his summer away is looking a whole lot more interesting.

[hyunsracha]

for your entertainment — han jisung

word count: 2.3k

summary: jisung panics when he sees cute people. he also stares at them.

so you work at an entertainment store right

where ppl can buy like uhhh movies and albums n merch n stuff!!

u like ur job.. it’s one of the least popular stores in the mall so u spend most of ur time organizing and reorganizing with one earbud in listening to music

u have to wear a boring grey t-shirt as uniform so u spice things up by making the rest of u look good

everyone else does the same thing i mean … ur manager lia wears purple eyeshadow ok

ur other manager chris doesn’t even try to look good! and it’s so fucking annoying u wanna knock his fuck 24/7

random girl: hehe<3 can i have ur number?

chris: only if u sign up for our rewards program<3

u, angry bc u haven’t sold any rewards programs in a week: >:(

ur other two co-workers are hyunjin and jeongin.

hyunjin has a pretty popular youtube dancer cover channel, but for Copyright Reasons it’s not paying the bills

and jeongin is a senior in high school and this is his first job and u just wanna pinch his little cheeks every time u work together

“y/n i swear to god i’m gonna punch u and get fired rn stop POKING MY CHEEKS-”

“he’s just a little baby…*to passing customer* LOOK AT THE BABY!”

“>:(((“

so it’s a tuesday night.

tuesday nights are the fucking best (worst if u love talking to ppl) bc u’ll get like … 2 customers in 4 hours?

it’s 8pm and the mall closes at 9

usually u start vacuuming at 8:30 but at like 7:50 chris was like “GET THE FUCKING VACUUM WE’RE CLOSING RN !!”

jeongin: u do it.

u: no u do it bitch.

jeongin: *sticks out his fist*

u sigh and do rock paper scissors like the baby wants.

and u lose

u fucking lose

and jeongin just cackles, sitting down on the stool behind the registers

so u trudge to the back room and the vacuum, grumbling about how ur older so jeongin should be doing this!!

but it’s fine!

so you’re vacuuming right.

and in storms Han Jisung

yes han jisung is the kinda dude to come to the mall right before closing and go on a shopping spree

he’s got his best friend lee minho in tow, who does Not look happy to be here.

“come on minho!! i need to get season 4 of naruto to finish my collection!!” jisung whines, pulling on his friend’s arm as he stands on his tiptoes to look for the anime section.

“can you keep your voice down?? i have an image, yanno.”

“minho you’re literally here to buy a kelly clarkson album.”

minho grumbles and waddles off towards the cds, where you are...vacuuming...loudly

and minho’s like -____- why are u so fucking loud

like u don’t MEAN to be loud?? but it’s a VACUUM??

so minho’s looking for his beloved kelly clarkson album right,

and jisung comes around the corner, season 4 of naruto in tow.

and he sees you

and nearly drops it

jisung gets crushes very easily okay..

he can’t help it! the boy loves to love (◕‿◕)♡

and u look so cute in ur lil t-shirt!! like a little retail angel!!

so he grabs minho’s arm and DRAGS HIM TO where the movies are

and he panics!

“THEY’RE SO CUTE AAH I WANNA GIVE THEM A BIG FAT HUG-”

“do you mean the person vacuuming -__- loud as hell”

“minho it’s a vacuum.”

so you stop vacuuming and return the vacuum to the back room (and wash ur hands in the bathroom bc the soap smells like lemons and sunshine) and come back to the floor

u have a ton of time until closing so u just. sit.. and start reorganizing the heavy metal albums.

after a while u feel … weird … like ur being watched

so u turn around and. there they are. staring like (・_・)

and ur like “HELLO?!?!” but u don’t say anything

u just give them a Customer Service Smile and a, “can i help you with anything?”

jisung just giggles and shakes his head and minho keeps fuckign staring

mr lee i will knock ur fuck is that what u want

so u shrug and go back to ur sorting, keeping an eye on the CREEPS in ur store.

at 8:55 chris is like “jeongin go close the gate.” n jeongin’s like “FUCK YEAH” bc he gets to hold a big stick

so he’s walking towards the front of the store with his Big Stick when he sees jisung and minho

“what da hell are y’all doing?” is what he thinks but he says, “(: hi! the store closes in five minutes and i’m about to close the front gate. i’m so sorry, but you have to leave now! :)”

so jisung pouts and minho rolls his eyes, dragging his friend out of the store.

jeongin uses his Big Stick to pull the gate down and he locks it at about mid calf level so y’all can get out.

so that night, u go home and do some homework, but ur still thinking about those weirdos.

but! u’ll probably never see them again!

right?

Wrong.

u see them the next day!

they’re still watching u, but they’re closer

and minho looks more irritated.

towards the end of the night, ur Upset and Confused so u go over to them like o_o. What do u want.

and jisung goes JISJSJHTIE

and minho goes, “jisung thinks you’re cute.”

u start to blush, but jisung squeaks, “NO ahah- uh- he likes to talk in third person! he’s jisung ahaha.”

“my name is not jisung i would Hate to be named jisung.”

“WH- why? there’s a soccer player named jisung. and an idol! multiple idols!”

“yeah the guy in nct is 2 years younger than you and has the same name. and what have You done successfully? Quickly-”

“HEY-”

the two boys in front of u bicker while u start zoning out at the wall behind them.

you knew that the boy with blue hair was jisung, but you didn’t know the one with brown hair. and you assumed that they were friends, judging by the .. bonding activity that is staring at an employee.

and jisung wasn’t …. ugly

like he was really … really cute

but staring at people is fucking weird, jisung!!

when u finally snap out of it, u huff, “okay losers. we are closing soon. so you have to leave. but you’re welcome to come back tomorrow if you’re going to actually talk to me and not just stand in the corner! okay?”

the boys nod, grinning at each other before dashing out of the store.

so, like u said, they’re back the next day!

and this time they actually talk to u! Wow!

you’re sitting on the floor in the back of the store, organizing the funko pops for the 70th time when you feel A Presence.

two, actually.

it’s the two boys, sitting on either side of u.

“hi,” jisung says, playing with his fingers in his lap.

“you’re jisung, right? the cute one..” u reply absentmindedly

u hear a choking sound and then Silence

miss jisung ? miss JISUNG ?

he’s alive, but jfc BARELY

u just called him the CUTE ONE?!?!?

paying no mind, u turn to the boy on ur right, “and you are?”

“lee minho. don’t worry, you won’t forget it.”

“was that supposed to be a pick-up line?”

“did it work?”

“no.”

“HAH!” and jisung’s alive again.

u spend the rest of ur shift talking to the boys, telling them all about ur life while they told u about theirs

u learned that minho was a dancer just like hyunjin! but he went to the nearby university to study.

and that’s where he met jisung, who’s a music composition major

...and a soundcloud rapper…

u could help the laugh that pushed past ur lips at his words

“WHY ARE U LAUGHING.”

“a SoundCloud rapper. really, sung?”

“IT’S COOL ヾ(`ヘ´)ﾉﾞ”

u couldn’t imagine him as a ‘cool’ rapper dude

he just looked so fluffy :(

at 8:55, the boys got kicked out by jeongin again, but they stood outside the gate, waiting for u

“What do y’all want.”

“i wanna walk u to ur car:(“

“i don’t.”

“ok minho then Leave.”

“NO DON’T he’s my ride don’t say that to him.”

it’s dark outside, and a warm wind blows through ur hair.

it’s late spring, with summer (and finals) fast approaching.

“walking me to my car...what a gentleman…”

“yeah that’s why you should totally go on a date with me haha.”

“what?”

“what?”

“you said-”

“i didn’t say anything.”

minho sighs from behind u, not understanding why his best friend has to be so damn stupid all the time

u lean on ur driver’s side door, not making eye contact with the boy

u didn’t know how to say bye..no one’s ever walked u to ur car before??

“so…” jisung speaks for u, “can i … have your number? so i don’t show up at the store when you’re not working.” he holds his phone out for u to take, a sheepish smile barely visible due to the lights in the parking lot.

“oh! totally.” you take the phone from him, jolting when ur fingers graze his. u set ur contact as ‘the person sungie likes to stare at~” before giving it back to him.

he chuckles at the name, and u feel something inside of u go DOKIDOKI

when he says goodnight and walks away, minho giving u a quick nod, u lock urself in ur car so u can PANIC

u barely know this boy. he’s a weirdo. why is ur heart going dokidoki

heart STOP IT!!

it only gets worse when u hear the text notification sound from ur phone:

[ unknown ]: do u work tmrw? (^_−)☆ i already miss u

…. frick …. he texts cute

dammit jisung why couldn’t u send the laughing emoji

[ y/n ]: i do ! ^.^ i’ll see u then?

[ creeper ]: wouldn’t miss it~ (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ goodnight!

u nearly slam ur head on the steering wheel.

true to his word, jisung was back the next day

and the day after that

and the day after that

the day after That, u were off, so u didn’t see him

but u guys texted nearly all day!

jisung was just … really easy to talk to :/

and really funny :/

and every time he giggled u just wanted to cry a little bit :/

and u feel like a CLOWN bc u have a CRUSH on this dude that hangs out with u at WORK

one day, ur at work, and jisung isn't there:((

u feel a little dumb being upset about it, but u were starting to get used to the little guy

“somebody looks like a sad clown.”

“hyunjin~” u whine.

“oh no. that’s the boy problems whine. uhhh suddenly i’m on break!” he tries to stand and walk away, but u pull him back down next to u.

see, u and hyunjin were pretty close.

u two are the same age and watch the same dramas.

and ur both super dramatic

which is WHY when u got ur heart broken by lee donghyuck a few months after u started working there, he was ur shoulder to cry - and complain - on.

“stop :( there was this boy who came in every day and talked to me and he’s super cute but he’s not here today and i miss him :(“

hyunjin just …. stared at u like …. wtf are u talking about

“do you have his number?”

“yes.”

“have you texted him to ask why he’s not here today?”

“...no…”

“(；￣Д￣) Y/N U FUCKIN FOOL!!! U ABSOLUTE IMBECILE!!!”

“STOP YELLING AT ME HWANG HYUNJIN I’LL DESTROY EVERYTHING YOU LOVE!”

a customer standing in front of the register, trying to buy some headphones: uh.. should i go?

u make hyunjin deal with the customer while u sneak out ur phone to text jisung

[ y/n ]: where are u . no one is here 2 annoy me today (except hyunjin but he doesn’t count)

u wait 5 minutes … no reply

10 minutes … no reply

an hour … no reply

“WAAAAA ｡･ﾟﾟ*(>д<)*ﾟﾟ･｡ HYUNJIN ｡･ﾟﾟ*(>д<)*ﾟﾟ･｡”

hyunjin, handing a poor lady her receipt: jesus fucking christ

ur sulking as u leave the store that night

u still feel dumb, but now ur too Sad to feel dumb

u press the lock button on ur car keys so the lights would come on and the horn would sound, telling u where ur car was

“OH FUCK- jesus...stupid car…”

….that’s not what ur car horn sounds like.

u slowly approach, holding ur keys in between ur fingers

ur not afraid to stab a bitch with ur mail key and that’s on wolverine.

u breathe a sigh of Relief when u see it’s just jisung leaning against ur door

wait

jisung

“jisung?” u voice ur thoughts

his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, “yeah..hi..sorry i didn’t text you back. i nearly backed out of doing this and i didn’t wanna look stupid.”

“you look stupid all the time.”

“jeez, thanks.”

u cross ur arms, stepping closer to the boy, “back out of what?”

“well i uh- do you remember how minho said i think you’re cute on the first day we talked?”

you nod.

“well...that hasn’t changed. i think you’re cute...really cute, actually.”

you blush again, just like the first time, “what does me being cute have to do with you standing in front of my car?”

“well, i don’t have a car, so i’m hoping...you can drive when we go on our first date?”

your heart nearly stops, but you start to smile.

“han jisung, are you asking me out?”

“are you saying yes?”

“yes.”

“then yeah. i am.”

your smile only gets wider as you close the gap between you two, wrapping your arms around his middle. he pats your head, a chuckle vibrating under your ear.

“also i need a ride home. minho dropped me off.”

“*sigh* jisung…”