#so were gonna go with this for the next few days

[thatonegrimm]

Hey! Just wanted to say that your writing is simply magnificent and it's clear how much passion you put into everything! Whenever I go out to look for Saja x reader fics your writing is one of the top results.

That being said, may I request the Saja boys reaction to you getting seriously hurt or sick? I am such a sucker for sickfics and physical hurt/comfort fics.

Also, if it's not too much to ask, may I be 🌘-anon?

Thank you for the request! I had fun figuring out how they would respond to reader getting hurt. Here you go!💌

🌙 Saja Boys x Reader – When You Get Seriously Hurt

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🧿 Jinu 

Blood shouldn’t be that color.

Jinu’s mind blanked the second he saw you, slumped near the edge of the training grounds, your shirt stained and one arm hanging limp. There was shouting—someone calling for help, someone else running—but it all sounded underwater.

All he saw was you.

He dropped to his knees beside you, fingers trembling as he hovered above your skin. “Hey. Hey, sweetheart—can you hear me?”

Your eyelids fluttered. A breath. A nod so small it could’ve been imagined.

Something inside Jinu cracked.

He pressed his hands gently to the worst of your wounds, channeling everything he had into staying steady. Just pressure. Just stay awake.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he whispered, over and over, like a spell.

It wasn’t until later—after you were bandaged, after you were safe—that he let himself fall apart. Sitting beside your bed, gripping your uninjured hand like a lifeline.

“I should’ve been faster,” he said into the dark.

You squeezed his hand, barely.

And that was enough to make him cry.

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💪 Abby 

He’d carried you all the way back.

Not because no one else could—he just didn’t trust anyone else not to drop you. Not with the way your head lolled. Not with how your breath hitched every few seconds like your ribs couldn’t decide if they were broken.

He didn’t speak the whole way.

Not a word.

His jaw was clenched. His hands were bloody. And the only thing going through his head was I should’ve protected her. That’s my job. That’s my job.

He laid you gently on the medical cot and backed away only when someone shoved him aside to help. His hands curled into fists. He didn’t stop shaking.

Later, after the chaos, you stirred awake to find him sitting in the corner of the room—arms around his knees, eyes haunted.

You called his name.

Abby bolted upright. “You’re awake.”

You nodded. He stepped closer, but not too close.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice breaking. “I was right there, and I didn’t stop it. I’m supposed to stop it.”

You reached out, slow and careful. “You carried me home.”

He took your hand like it was the most fragile thing in the world. “I’ll do better next time. I swear.”

And he would.

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📚 Mystery 

He found you in a hallway you weren’t supposed to be in.

Too much blood. Too much stillness.

He didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. Didn’t even blink.

He just moved.

One second he was on his knees beside you. The next, you were wrapped in his arms, shadows curling instinctively around you both like a barrier.

No one saw him speak.

But you heard him.

“You’re not allowed to do that.”

His voice cracked, just once.

You stirred weakly against his shoulder. “Do what?”

“Scare me.”

That was the most he’d said in days.

He carried you to safety like a secret, silent and shaking the entire way.

Afterward, when the others were gone and the room had quieted, he sat beside you with his knees drawn up, barely breathing as he watched your chest rise and fall.

“You always say I’m not a monster,” he whispered.

“But if something had happened to you… I don’t know what I’d have become.”

You reached for him, weakly curling your fingers over his sleeve.

You didn’t need to say anything.

That was why he stayed.

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💋 Romance 

He always had something charming to say.

Some soft quip, some flirty remark, some gentle tease.

But not this time.

Not when he saw you carried in with blood down your side and glass in your legs. Not when you winced in your sleep. Not when you didn’t wake up the first time he called your name.

He sat at your bedside with his usual warmth turned to ash.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Wake up and call me dramatic. Say I’m making it about me again. I’ll even admit you’re right.”

No answer.

His throat tightened.

He brushed your hair back from your forehead and leaned down, forehead pressing to yours.

“I don’t know how to flirt with ghosts,” he murmured. “So don’t be one.”

You woke hours later, groggy and in pain—but alive.

When you opened your eyes, Romance didn’t say anything cute.

He just grabbed your hand, kissed your knuckles, and closed his eyes with a shaky breath.

“Hi,” he said. “Don’t ever do that again.”

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🔥 Baby

He was shaking.

Not from rage, but from fear.

When he saw you lying in that alley—bloodied, unconscious, barely breathing—his pattern didn’t flare.

It flickered.

Like it didn’t know how to burn without you.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t lash out. He just dropped to his knees beside you, hands hovering, scared to touch. Like you were made of paper. Like you might vanish if he breathed too hard.

“Please,” he said.

That was it. Just one word.

He carried you to safety. He waited outside while the others treated you. He didn’t speak to anyone.

And when they let him in to see you—finally—he sat on the floor, staring at the IV in your arm like it offended him.

You blinked awake slowly. “Baby?”

His head snapped up.

“I’m fine,” you whispered.

“No,” he said, crawling closer, fire dancing faintly at his fingertips. “You’re not. But you’re here.”

You tried to reach for him, and he grabbed your hand like it was a lifeline.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he admitted. “I didn’t know how to fix it.”

“You didn’t have to fix it,” you said. “You just had to stay.”

He pressed his forehead to your palm and let the worries finally die down.

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M-List

[n0cturnalp1g]

Night Shift: 8:00AM

Summary: Heavy is the shoulders that chose to protect over and over again. Characters: Attending!Female Reader (Sunshine) x Jack Abbot. Samira Mohan. Dana Evans. Frank Langdon. Melissa "Mel" King. Nurse Princess. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch. Word Count: 2417 Chapter Warnings: Inaccurate Medical Terms and Process (mostly templated the scene with Episode Two lol). PTSD. Addiction. Possible Suicidal Attempt via drug consumption. Medical related Gore, blood, and possible dismemberment.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

8:00AM 4th July 2025

“Sorry, the fireworks are making me jump right now.”

You were in the next bay with Samira with another bloody aftermath of mishandled fireworks when you heard Jack’s voice. He wasn’t one to openly admit his agitations but here he was.

“You think Doctor Abbot’s gonna be alright working today?”

You hummed without truly giving a proper answer since you were uncertain yourself if he will actually be alright working for the day. One hour into the dayshift and there was already a clusterfuck of fireworks related accidents and a handful of vets coming and going.

Your eyes turned right back to the patient, the ever-calm Attending that had earned a reputation as Sunshine was capable of calming even at the most life changing moment in a patients’ life. You made the most out of it even if you genuinely hated the name.

It made you feel more like a tool than an actual human being. A last ditch effort when all other options fails.

“What are your findings, Doctor Mohan?” You inquired about the now going full-Attending mood, eyes still lingering on the tear-stained eyes of the teenager that was just having a few drinks and fun with the rest of his friends.

“Homemade fireworks exploded in his hand. He tried to light it with a Zippo, it below before he could throw it. Partial avulsion to digit three and four. Possible open fractures, vascular compromise–maybe worse.” Samira was quick to switch to work-mode now.

You leaned in. You gently peel back the towel and the patient, Joshua cries out. Beneath it, the hand is a shredded mess–mangled tissue, bone exposed, blackened burns. His ring finger hangs by a flap of skin.

“I know it hurts. Hang in there for me, okay? We’re going to take care of you.” You put on a small smile hoping to reassure him even when everyone in the bay knew the inevitable was bound to happen.

“Give him 2 morphine IV push. And let’s get a hand surgeon on standby. This might need the OR tonight.” You instructed.

“Already paged ortho. Imaging is on the way. No loss of consciousness, no other injuries per EMS.”

“Very Good, Dr. Mohan. Let’s keep him warm and dry. Start cefazolin–broad coverage. Debride what you can but don’t go deep until we’ve got imaging. And elevate that hand. We need to ensure we save as much as we can.”

You watched Samira begin adjusting the hand onto the table and prepping for irrigation.

“Am I–am I gonna lose my fingers?”

Your eyes soften now, seeing so much pain that lingered in the young man’s eyes. One measly mistake could cost such a vast change in him and his life. It reminded you of Jack, of his stories of losing his leg, dealing with the pain, the emptiness of what was once whole in his body.

“We don’t know yet.” You answered honestly, it was always better to set their expectations early than give them hope only to crush them with the circumstance handed to them. “But if we do have to take a finger or two, it’s to protect the rest of the hand–and your life. You’ll still be you, Josh. You’ll still heal.”

You watched the boy much closely now. How someone so young, with his future right in front of him would have such a detrimental change in his life that he would never truly be prepared for.

“But for now, we do what we can and make sure the chance of infection is reduced. We will have the best hand surgeon create his magic when they come down for consultation, so you sit tight for me, Josh, okay?”

The teenager nodded wincing as Samira continued on with irrigating the wound.

“Sunny, the Vet in respiratory distress is here.”

You turned to Dana tensing at her words and the silence in the other bay besides you. A part of you was all too certain that Jack had heard the charge nurse’s notification. Giving both Samira and Josh a reassuring look, you followed Dana out of the room and followed her to the upcoming EMT.

“You and I both know it was Jack’s turn with the patient.” You pointed out knowingly.

“The more we can avoid another meltdown, the better.” Dana muttered and they were both welcomed with the EMT rolling in a middle age man, unconscious towards the next available room.

“Denzel Franklin, 37, found unresponsive by his children. No meds, no allergies. On arrival, he was barely breathing with pinpoint pupils, bradycardic at 44. Pupils did not respond to Narcan and we tubed him when his respirations continued to fail.”

You listened intently to the EMT’s words but your eyes lingered on the dog tag for a moment while you put on hand sanitizer then your gloves. Frank and Mel were immediately going to action as you watched, observing what you already knew could be a possibility of the man.

“Any drugs or alcohol on the scene?” Frank inquired.

“A bottle of vodka and an unopened prescription of Sertraline were on the scene.”

“Signs of trauma?” Mel inquired.

“Nothing.”

You watched the residents and nurse move Denzel to the bed as Nurse Princess began with the ventilator.

“Where was he found?” You inquired.

“In bed by his daughter.”

You nodded, handing the bag of dextrose for the IV as you watched Mel and Frank begin checking the symptoms.

“Pupils are 3 millimeters, non-reactive.” Mel began.

“Heart rate’s 56. BP is cycling.” Princess added.

“No response to pain. GCS 3.” Frank added.

“Does that fit any toxidrome?” You inquired again.

“No. If it was just opiates with Narcan, he’d be breathing on his own.” Frank began looking around, thinking in his own little world of any possibilities. “Is there a chance this was suicide?”

“Dr. Langdon, we will first find out the cause of his state before we dive into the reason behind it.” You were quick to scold him lightly. “May it be suicide or not, that is besides the problem. What we need is to know what he took and how we can bring him back and get him the help that he needs.”

“Sorry.” He was quick to apologize which surprised you for once. The old Frank would argue, challenge you even. It seems rehab did him good, better than anyone would expect out of him.

“Good. Please continue.”

“Beta blockers wouldn't give pinpoint pupils.” Mel supplied.

“EMT said there was an unopened bottle of Sertraline, there might be other prescription meds in his bathroom or in his children’s.” You added your own theory.

The overhead announcement of another car crash was ignored as your focus was on the man in front of you. Unconscious but evident with everything you wished wouldn’t be the truth.

Mel immediately held onto the ultrasound wand, watching the monitor for any changes from the inside.

“No blood in the belly, no pericardial effusion, and lungs are up.” Mel continued. 

“Hemocue’s good, 15. BP 84 over 58.” Princess added.

“Okay.” You nodded. “What’s your plan, Dr. Langdon?” You turned to Frank now.

“Um, push dose epi, 0.1 milligram. Foley for urine, stabilize for CT.”

You nodded allowing him to administer but your eyes somehow always ended focused more on his hands more than the patient. Epinephrine hydrochloride was not considered an addiction, but no matter what you still had your inkling of doubt about what was made and what could be taken if she wasn’t careful when it comes to Frank. He betrayed your trust just as much as he did Robby’s.

“Systolic back down to 90.” Princess announced and you crossed your eyes watching Mel check Denzel’s limbs.

“Another 0.1 of Epi.” Frank announced.

“Flaccid paralysis of all four extremities.” Mel observed eyes roaming throughout the patient’s body for any clue they were missing.

With a syringe of cold water, Frank had sprayed water through the inside of Denzel’s ear, eyes focused on his eye pried open for any possible reaction.

“No eye movement with ice water.” Frank continued.

“So no brainstem function.” Mel concluded.

“Due to what?” You asked brows raised at the duo.

“Hypoxic injury, massive hemorrhage.” Frank responded before turning his attention to Mel. “Mel, please escort him to CT. Bring a drug box with you.”

You nodded thumbs up knowing that they were working in the right direction for this case.

“We want to rule out anything that he could have possibly taken. So please have a full screening for the drug test for him, bloodwork and urine if possible.” You added turning your eyes back to another gurney being pushed towards the available bay.

“We got it here, Sunny.” Frank reassured you.

“Please call me if you need me. Thank you.” You sighed pushing open the door as you slipped off your gloves.

You have barely even stepped foot out of the door before Perlah had made her way towards you. A grim look on her face.

“Dr. Sunny, the wife and son of Francis Martinez are here.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, craning your head back for a moment before opening your eyes and nodding towards Perlah, knowing what was expected out of you. A part of you was regretting requesting for Dana to field all Vet-related cases to you if she could, it also meant all of the responsibility of the inevitable was on your shoulders now, weighed and crushing against it all for you to take alone.

You didn’t want to make it hard on Jack, nor Robby. Not today if you could.

“Okay. I’ll be right there.” You nodded thanking her.

Walking towards the children’s ward, you were halted by a familiar pair of hands and you put on the best smile you could mustered knowing the inevitable of the day was for you.

“You good?” Jack had inquired, eyes darting up and down, inspecting for anything that needed his worry. “Put this on.” He muttered pulling off the sweatshirt he wore. “You’re fucking cold right now.”

You didn’t fight him as he practically placed his sweater onto you. The warmth of him and his scent momentarily eased the heaviness you were carrying.

“Thank you.” You smiled at him, hand cupping his cheeks. “Are you alright?” You asked him instead.

“I’m good.” He answered but his eyes darted away from you. “One step at a time.” He added.

“Tell me if you need to breathe or stop and we can ask Shen or Parker to come back.”

“Please choose Shen, I want to ruin his day.” He groaned.

You giggled, kissing him gently on the lips before making your way to the children’s ward where Francis Martinez’s family were. Watching their braindead husband and father and thinking of what the next steps would be.

~

Robby had watched it from the safe distance of the nurse’s station. How easy it was for you to pull Jack into a kiss and how unbothered everyone in the staff was for the momentary display of affection both you and Jack had shown. There were smiles and smirks from the nurses, but not once did anyone begin to gossip or even complain about it–how wrong he was to ever believe they would.

“Still can’t believe how Sunny was able to catch Jack’s heart like that.” Dana muttered, making Robby turn to look at her.

“More surprised with how Sunny could stand Jack.” He muttered.

“Don't act all surprised now, Cap.” Dana snorted. “They compliment each other. It's a good thing Jack has someone to look forward to in life.”

Robby wanted to deny such a fact but you always had a way in seeing the good in everyone you interact with. Case in point: Robby. Years of being together even when he had constantly insisted on keeping things private and his own needs constantly going above your own, you tried your best to understand him. You knew he was going through something and everything all at once.

“You’re right.” He blinked, turning away from the scene that only broke his heart more than it already does. His eyes landed back on the board. “Still a fucking mes.” He said more to himself than Dana.

“Sunny already cleaned up most of it before she started her shift. Practically ran over Shen and Parker wanting to get most of the heavier load for the day.”

Robby’s eyes narrowed for most of the names on the board.

“Is she cherry picking?” He asked, he always had a hard stance that no one in his department is allowed to cherry pick cases. You get what is more urgent, not what is more interesting.

But the difference this time was the fact that you were doing the opposite. All the heavier patients were under your control. Drug Overdose. Gunshot Wound. Drowning. All vets. All having that kind of day with what the day meant to them all.

“She wanted to make sure neither you or Jack deal with the mess that’s gonna be happening today.” Dana explained looking at Robby, arms crossed. “You have your bad days and more often than not you choose not to come into work. Jack doesn’t get that privilege and you know how he is during 4th of July.”

Of course Robby knew. He was always the one that would make sure that he would call him when midnight struck and before the day ended. He had nightmares, far too many for all he has lost while serving, of the people he lost and the parts of himself that he could never get back.

“The only difference is Jack accepted his girlfriend’s help when she offered it to him and here they both are. Sunny is making sure to be the steady force Jack can lean on.”

Robby nodded knowing fully well how you were like. How you did the same thing when he came in to work with him on Adamson’s death anniversary. You stayed, kept an eye on him all throughout the day and all he did in return was destroy you until you had no other choice but to move to the nightshift and into the arms of his friend.

“Where is she now?” Robby asked instead, vanishing the memory of the night in the rooftop all those months ago.

“Talking to Martinez’s family, but it seems like no one is ready to let him go.”

The irony of Dana’s word cuts deep into Robby more than he was willing to admit.

[pittrabbit]

house of cards.

content: andrew cody x reader, fix it fic for season three of animal kingdom, reader is meant to be 25-30, reader is deran's friend, mostly canon compliant, A LOT of world building, reader occasionally takes place for a few pre-existing characters, frequent switch of povs, dark themes, murder, show-compliant crimes, SPOILERS for seasons 1-3 of animal kingdom, uses transcripts of dialogue from the show, starts up immediately from last part, way more smut than necessary lol, sub!andrew, softdom!andrew, shower sex, oral (f), finishing in pants, unprotected p in v sex, etc etc etc.

summary: just when andrew finally got you, his life continued to spiral out of control, losing his brother, having smurf back in his life, and with dcfs threatening to take lena away. but even then, you were there by his side, becoming the only source of light in his life.

word count: 13.4k

note: again, this follows the plot of season three of animal kingdom so it contains a ton of spoilers and some parts might not make sense unless u've watched it!!!

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"You want a sandwich or something? I can make you breakfast."

You didn't dignify that with a response, instead humming as you rolled on your side, snuggling into Andrew's bare chest and kissing the skin mindlessly. A strong arm remained wrapped around you as he laid face up, fingers tracing down your back.

"Still tired?"

"You kept me up all night." you teased. "Not complaining, but I need at least another hour."

Andrew leaned to the side of the bed, checking the clock on the bedside table to confirm the time. "It's 6. We got til 7 til we gotta get up and get Lena to school. I think Baz and Lucy just left her here last night."

"Assholes." you said, referring to Baz and his girlfriend. "But he gets a pass for getting my Andrew back home to me."

He twitched at that. Your Andrew. Those weren't words he'd ever heard paired together. He couldn't bring himself to acknowledge them either, knowing he'd probably say something stupid or mess up and make it so you never said them again. And he wanted you to say it again, wanted it to be a fact of life. Because he was your Andrew. The events of the past few days only confirmed it.

"I'll get up." you groaned, earning a matching groan from him when you left his arms, beginning the trek to get up.

When you stood up from the bed, stretching, making noises that confused Andrew's body, he looked to you, taking in the sight of your nude body as you got up to pick up his clothes that he'd given you off the bedroom floor. Meanwhile, he admired you, shifting on his side to get a better view of you, feeling a little perverted, but encouraged to keep staring when you smiled teasingly at him, making a show of walking around to purposely rile him up.

"Gonna shower before we go drop Lena off at school. I'll take some clothes from your closet til I can go back to Deran's to change."

He sat up, hand rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and nodding.

"Yeah, okay. I'll, uh, I'll go make us some breakfast."

But you walked back to him, rerouting from your path to the restroom and pulling at his arm as he sat against the bedframe.

"Or," you dragged the consonant. "you could take a shower with me. Saves water and all."

You took a few steps back, his hand still on yours, lightly pulling him closer to getting up.

"That's ... that could be dangerous."

"I live life on the edge." you joked, forcing a small chuckle out of him, you giggling along.

In the end, he could never say no to you. Specially not as he saw you standing there, naked, looking to him with a teasing glint in your eyes, lower lip trapped by your frontal teeth. And so he stood up, sheets falling off his body and leaving him just as nude as you.

As he warmed up the water for you, you brushed your teeth, shameless as you eyed his backside through the mirror and winking at him when he caught your eyes on him. He looked down, blinking hard a few times before joining you in brushing your teeth.

Finished, you made your way to the shower, opening and closing the clear glass door as you allowed the steamy water to dampen your skin, arching your back as it rained down all over you and giving Andrew what felt like a life-ruining view from the mirror.

He spit out his toothpaste, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and marching to the shower, harshly opening the door and slamming it shut before cornering you against the shower wall, welcomed immediately by your arms and by your tongue, which wrapped around his within half a second of his mouth being on yours.

Greedy hands rubbed at your skin, antsy and frustrated first thing in the morning. One hand wrapped around your thigh, wrapping it around his waist while the other held onto your hip, making sure you had a good foundation and wouldn't slip on the wet floor.

This was the fourth time within the past 48 hours in which Andrew had had you naked and at his mercy, hard dick weeping at a chance to find a home inside you. But he'd quickly learned that he just couldn't help himself around you. Just one look from you, one tilt of your head or one bite of your lip and his fingers burned to be on you, to mead the skin of your hips, grip your thighs and fold you in whichever way necessary to make space for himself inside you.

He continued kissing you, hips rolling against your own, killing his own sanity as he ground into you, hardness pressing onto your weeping cunt, creating a friction that had you gasping his name into his lips. The stream of water made it so he could enjoy your sounds without worrying that J and Nicky would hear you from the other room attached to the bathroom.

"Please, Andrew." you licked his lips, nibbling at the bottom one, dragging a grunt out of him. "Want you to fuck me. Please?"

"I will." he promised, tongue trailing down your jaw, moving onto the water droplets on your neck. "Just give me a second."

You let him have his fun, let him suck hickeys all over your chest, bite you to the point he almost drew blood. You let him scratch at your skin, leaving red marks on your legs and hips as his hips began losing control during the torturous grind he'd set. You let him have anything he wanted, rewarding him with sighs of his name, with hands playing with his hair, with your hips matching his rhythm.

"Turn around." he said after he'd had his fill, strong hands already working you to face away from him before you could do it yourself. "I want you like this."

A whine left you, as if him wanting you was something you just couldn't handle. He still couldn't understand that reaction, couldn't understand why you wanted him as much as he did you (and he still wasn't convinced that was really possible). But he pushed those thoughts aside, grabbing onto his dick and pressing into your opening, sighing your name when you arched your back, pushing your hips back, showing him how much you wanted him.

"Oh, god, Andrew ..." you cried, and Andrew wished he could see the look on your face now, could see your eyes rolling back in the way he'd gotten to witness a few times already just mere hours ago.

"I know." he grunted, forehead digging through your hair and landing on your shoulder, heavy breath landing against your skin.

He began hammering into you then, groaning as you'd push back against him.

Without meaning to, he lost himself in it, pushing you harder against the glass, making your hands fall off the glass and lay to your sides, your breasts now pressed up against it and his thrusts making it vibrate with the intensity in which he fucked into you. His grunts and your whines filled up the room, overpowering the stream of the shower hitting the floor.

Cries of his name left your lips, growing louder by the second. His eyes rolled back at the sound, at the feel of you squeezing around him, begging he keep going, begging he fill you up and mark you as his again and again.

"Is it good? Huh? Tell me." he huffed out.

"S-so good, Andrew." you moaned. "Don't stop. Fuck, don't stop. I need- need you to- Oh, oh fuck, Andrew."

He groaned one last time, letting go, releasing in you for the nth time since you'd first let him get his hands on you. A broken cry left him, head burying in your shoulder and biting there again.

Desperately, his hand rounded your body, index and middle fingers reaching between your legs and finding your clit, circling it harshly in eight's so he could get you there with him.

And when you came, you cried his name again, fogging the glass in front of you, smearing it with drool and purring when he gasped at the way in which you squeezed him as you came.

It took a few moments for the two of you to catch your breaths, but Andrew immediately turned you back around, chest still contracting and relaxing deeply as he leaned into you and kissed your forehead, mumbling soft words to you.

"Wasted a lot of water there, huh?"

"Yeah." he chuckled. "Bad for the environment."

"But good for me." you rebutted, reaching behind him to grab his shampoo. "Can I use this? Wanna smell like you."

You said it so casually, making him swallow before he nodded. He stepped aside, giving you some space to rummage through his things in the shower, which you did freely. Grabbing the things you were going to use, you turned back to him with a grin.

"C'mon, turn around. I'm gonna wash your hair first."

"You don't have to do that-"

You shook your head, petulant. "I've been itching to get my hands on those curls. Please?" you dragged the 'e', batting your lashes at him and giggling when he nodded reluctantly.

The two of you spent about half an hour in there, washing each other's hair, gathering suds of soap on each others bodies and sharing a few kisses in between.

Your fingers on his hair had him in heaven. The occasional kiss landed on his back, on his shoulders, making his eyes flutter shut due to the softness behind your every touch. He almost felt himself falling asleep as he stood there, taking your every affectionate caress and purring when you started humming some tune, filling up the otherwise silent bathroom.

By 7:08, the two of you were ready to start the day, with you heading over to wake Lena while Andrew made a quick breakfast for the two of you, being talked into making some extra for his brother when you walked in and kissed his cheek, taking pity on a hungover Deran lounging nearby.

➽──────────────────❥

As it usually went in Andrew's life, things couldn't stay as serene as they'd been that morning for long.

He had a true first taste of what a domestic life would feel like. He'd woken up with the love of his life in his arms, being kissed and touched as you practically begged him to fuck you. He'd made breakfast for his family, having you jokingly feed him a pastry and kissing the smeared jelly off his lip. He'd driven Lena to school, with you on the passenger seat while he listened to the two of you talk, giggling with each other.

And then he'd arrived home, opening your door and leading you off the car reluctantly as he spotted the police officers waiting for the two of you there.

At first he'd believed it was some benign issue. Maybe last night's party had gotten too loud. Maybe a neighbor had complained.

But it wasn't that.

Baz was dead.

His voice shook as he asked for confirmation, his body trembling and only finding fortitude when your hand reached out to him, holding onto his arm as the officers spoke to you, offering some silent support as you also took in the news.

Andrew wanted to break down, wanted to scream, break something, take his anger out on the messengers, to make matters even worse by losing his mind. But you provided an anchor for him, worried eyes and frowny lips showing him your concern, but not voicing it, giving him space to feel everything he needed to feel without attempting to deter his emotions.

With you, he rushed to wake Nicky up, being perhaps meaner than he needed to be as he dragged her along with the two of you into his truck and went to look for J, asking you to call Deran and Craig as he drove J back to the house for a family meeting.

"How?" Deran asked, distraught.

You all gathered together in the living room, with the exception of Craig, who had run off to Mexico with Renn sometime the previous night.

"Cops only said he'd been ... he'd been shot."

"By who?"

"They didn't say."

"You didn't ask?" Deran raised his voice, though you knew it was out of sadness rather than frustration.

"Of course I asked!" Andrew yelled.

"Baz is dead?" Nicky whispered, shocked, sad.

"Where's Craig?" Andrew had been kept out of the loop.

"He took off last night with some money and the Scout."

"You try calling him?" Andrew paced around the room, not knowing where to look, where to stop.

"Yeah. He's on his way to Mexico. Probably doesn't have any service."

J interrupted. "Did he leave around the same time Baz got shot?"

This caused both Andrew and Deran to halt, avert their eyes and look to J with disdain in them.

"What's that supposed to mean, J?" you could hear the grit in Deran's voice.

"He didn't mean it like that." you finally interjected, getting up from the couch and stepping towards Andrew, holding his hand wordlessly.

"Yeah, well."

"You need to find Craig. They could be looking for him too." Andrew warned, hand squeezing yours.

"Who's coming for Craig?" Nicky's tone was worried, exasperated.

"Smurf is in jail for killing Javi, sweetie. You don't think his crew's gonna have something to say about that?"

The room fell silent at Andrew's cold intonation, everyone growing more worried by the second. The silence was sharp, bitter, making your heart race and the feeling of dread gnaw at you.

"What about Lucy?" Deran wondered out loud.

Andrew ignored him, looking down on him from his spot sitting on the couch. "Find Craig now."

Later in the day, all the brothers were called down to the police's station, the requirement of individual interviews coming up due to the nature of Baz's death. You remained quiet through it all, not knowing how to comfort Andrew, feeling inadequate at Deran's icy glare.

It was a strange feeling, feeling so out of place as the two men mourned their brother, as J shared your inadequacy, never having been too close to Baz. They discussed theories of Baz's death in front of you, clashing with each other about what to do with Smurf, how to get revenge from whoever killed Baz, who'd take care of Lena.

But looking at Andrew, you knew that in the end all these burdens would likely fall on him. You knew that no matter how much you cared for your friend Deran, how much you'd grown to respect J, that Andrew carried a big weight as the eldest brother. In your eyes you could see his worries, sharing his dread for what was to come next in Lena's life.

You gave him space, not wanting to be too much for him at that moment. While Andrew planned his next move, you went to Deran, hugging him, kissing his cheek, caressing his hair and silently crying at your friend's sadness. He'd told you to do the same for Pope. That he'd need it once he fully processed what happened.

When Andrew asked you to stay home with Nicky while he and his brothers went to give their statements, as he went to tail J as he visited Smurf, you agreed, not many words exchanged between you.

He was acting cold, detached. It made you feel out of place, gave you whiplash from how affectionate he'd been just a few hours prior. But you understood. You held your ground, kissing his cheek, hugging him and telling him you were sorry for his loss, that you were there for whatever he needed.

And when it came to be the afternoon and Andrew came home from picking up Lena, you found yourself agreeing at his request that you move in with him to Baz's apartment. Something about Lena wanting to stay there, liking her home and him wanting to give her that stability now that both her parents were gone.

He'd been shy about it, easy to read in how he was beating himself up about it, likely thinking himself an inconvenience.

"I ... I know it's soon." he started. "I know we've only been together for- not for long." but then he corrected himself. "I don't even know if we're together-"

You interrupted, grabbing his hand. "Hey." he looked to you then. "We're together. And I'll go. I'll tell Deran I'm moving out and I'll go stay with you and Lena."

Andrew swallowed, looking down.

"Are you sure? If it's too much, I understand."

Shaking your head, you smiled at him again, light, small. "It's not too much. We'll do this together, okay?"

He kissed you then, for the first time since you'd left the bathroom together that morning. He sighed against your lips, letting himself get a little more carried away than he'd hoped before forcing himself to pull away.

"I love you." was the last thing he said before grabbing your hand and leading you to his car.

➽──────────────────❥

Six months passed since Baz's death.

Six months since you and Andrew took up the responsibility of raising Lena yourselves.

Six months since you'd been holed up in Baz's old apartment, playing the domestic game of a family together as you tried to keep Lena afloat.

Six months since Andrew had been dealing with his grief, trying and failing to find out who'd killed his brother.

The two of you struggled to keep Lena from wallowing in her grief, something she was still too young to really understand. Getting bullied at school over her family's reputation, she stayed up all night, didn't eat, refused to go to school. And you took on the responsibility of being there for her, becoming the closest thing to a maternal figure and as much of a friend to her as you could be.

After getting her into a private school, Andrew would begin disappearing during the days, spending a few hours parked outside as he waited for her day to finish, the rest being used up in investigating Baz's murder.

The domestic bliss was dystopian at times, not what you'd pictured, and Andrew could tell. Yet he couldn't help himself in becoming obsessive with every issue that began to arise. Smurf still didn't know about you, which was the only silver lining in his life.

Things began to look up after Lena settled into her private school, somewhere around the same time Craig came back from Mexico and J started lining up new jobs for them. Things were still muddled, with too many issues left to fix for Andrew to count, but as he came back home with well-earned money in his pocket, finding you with his shirt on and cooking dinner for him, he couldn't help but see the good in life.

In the past six months of living together, Andrew became a little better at physical affection. He was still a little awkward, not knowing when it was acceptable for him to touch you (always) or how it was acceptable to touch you (in any way), but you'd always smile at him, eyes wrinkling in amusement at how he'd fumble even after all this time.

He approached you from behind, mumbling a low 'hey' as he pondered whether or not to do that things couples did where the guy would come up behind the girl as she cooked, wrap his arms around her and press up against her. It seemed domestic, like the type of thing he'd be expected to do (and the type of thing he craved to do), but he faltered halfway, instead reclining against the counter.

But you weren't like him.

Instead of taking a simple 'hey' and welcoming him home with one in return, you turned down the heat of the burners, turning around and meeting him where he stood, placing your arms on his shoulders before sneaking them back to the back of his head, finding the curls there and tugging at them softly. You leaned up for a kiss, humming when he tried to pull away and licking his lip for an entrance.

"Missed you today." you mumbled between kisses, sighing when he finally let his guard down and laid his hands on your waist, light hold as if he was already pushing it.

Your hands moved his own down to your ass, chuckling when he grunted at it, mumbling that he'd missed you too, but barely able to get the words out between kisses.

"Job go well?"

He nodded. "Yeah. J came up with a good one today."

"That's good. You look like you're in a good mood."

"I wasn't, actually. The guys are still fighting. But I feel better now."

You smiled, biting your lip. "What, cause you came home to me?"

"Yeah."

You kissed him again, a little harder now, purposely moaning into his mouth just to get a reaction out of him and succeeding when his fingers flexed, squeezing at the meat of your ass. Pulling him closer, you arched into him, licking his mouth and murmuring his name when his tongue sucked on yours, creating a squelching sound that had your legs pressing together.

"Let me ... let me take you to our room." he interrupted, mumbling a couple of words in between kisses, unable to fully separate from you.

"What if I want it here?"

You were teasing. You knew of Andrew's aversion to disorder, well aware that fucking in the kitchen was something he just could not bring himself to do. It was something that'd be deeply uncomfortable for him, but he knew you were teasing, knew you liked to rile him up a little, to get things going by making him fight with himself before he could truly have you.

"It's dirty. Sex shouldn't be had in the kitchen."

One last kiss was delivered to his lips, with one following in tandem on his nose, and one on his chin.

"Then take me to bed, handsome."

With minimal effort, he lifted you, wrapping your legs around his waist as he took a few steps towards the stove and turned off the burner before dragging you along to your shared bedroom. There, he laid you down at the edge of the bed, not hovering over you as per usual, but instead kneeling on the floor, looking up at you with hooded eyes, with his chest heaving as he struggled to control himself.

It never took long for you to break him down into this state, into a mindless mess that sought out your body like a lifeline. One look, one touch, was all he needed to lose himself and seek pleasure from your body like his life depended on it. And everything about you gave him pleasure. He could bury himself between your legs for hours, meet his completion inside his boxers as he rocked his hips into the mattress while you cried his name. He could hammer into you with endless need, reach his end as you dragged your nails down his back. Or sometimes he could lay back, falling victim to your seduction, to the breathy whispers against his ear begging that he let you take him in your mouth, arguing against all his refusals (refusals born out of low self esteem, out of feeling like he didn't deserve that sort of self-serving pleasure) and whimper your name as you toyed at him for hours on end, only letting him cum after tears dampened his cheeks.

Even as he'd grown used to the carnal bliss you gave him time and time again, Andrew could never handle how you made him feel. Even now as he knelt before you, hard and bursting through his pants while he stared up at your bare thighs, — your shirt having already been thrown off as he reminisced of every time you'd filled these walls with cries of each other's names — he groaned as he lowered his lips down to your foot, one hand holding onto your foot and holding your ankle up to his mouth.

You were sitting up, looking down at him with a lustful heaviness in your eyes. You inhaled deeply when he began kissing up the length of your legs, sucking hickeys all throughout it, not caring about the atypical spots in which he was leaving marks (next to your ankle, your calves, your thighs). He got off in knowing he could have you losing your breath with kisses in non-erogenous zones, losing his own at every sigh that left your lips, silently begging for more.

"You've been so patient with me." he whispered between kisses to your thighs. "You've put up with too much." every few words were punctured with a kiss, a suck, a lick.

His hands gripped your legs, sitting up on his knees and lips reaching your panties while your eyes fluttered.

"You're everything to me." he kissed your cunt then, tongue sneaking out and licking at your clit through the lace of your panties.

"You're everything." you whined, brain already empty as you corrected him.

Andrew groaned, burying his head in your cunt, licking harshly at you despite the fabric and rubbing his nose against your clit. It took him a while to grow desperate enough to lick you raw, ripping off your underwear carelessly, breathing you in deeply when he finally had your cunt right in front of him.

His hands reached up, grabbing your hips and scooting you over closer, looking up at you as he licked, eyes begging silently, hoping you understood what he wanted.

And you did. You needed no words to understand Andrew, just as you always had.

Your grip on his hair tightened as your hips gyrated against his face, practically riding his tongue. This provided Andrew with the prettiest view, with your mouth agape and your eyes rolled back, a hand on his hair and the other rubbing at your nipple. Andrew whimpered against you, cried your name despite knowing it'd get muffled by your cunt.

"Oh, f-fuck, Andrew ... That's it, that's so- Oh ..."

Cries of his name filled up the room, and then he lost his mind. He gripped at your hips again, sitting up straighter and pushing you to lie back on the bed, head now hovering over your cunt as he tongued at it with a complete lack of finesse. He shook his head back and forth, licked in patterns, out of patterns, rubbed your clit, lined your entrance, he did everything that his lust-filled heart wished to at that moment, stealing an orgasm from you without bothering to stop.

"Andrew, baby, that's- that's enough. I can't-"

"Please." he mumbled, almost inaudible.

And he was taking advantage, really.

He knew by now that you had a hard time saying no to him. It was rare for him to use this privilege, to even ask for something from you, but he couldn't help himself in this moment.

You'd been the first light in his life ever since Julia had been taken away from him, ever since Cath's rejection really dawned on him and he'd been made to get rid of her. You were the only person he'd ever loved like this, the only thing he needed to exist. He'd grown to a point where he knew that he could take anything coming his way as long as he had you, the one and only person who looked forward to seeing him, who kissed him goodnight and couldn't fall asleep unless he laid beside you.

At some point during his internal monologue, he'd began humping the bed, aggressively pressing his hardness against it as his hands gripped you with a bruising capacity. He was groaning into your cunt, creating a mess of your juices and his saliva while you screamed his name above him.

You couldn't speak anymore. No words left you, making Andrew lightheaded at realizing that his name was the one and only thing you remembered while in complete delirium.

When you came a second time, he followed right behind you, almost biting at you at the sudden burst of pleasure, the liquid squirting inside his pants and making him grunt at the feeling. But it was really the last thing on his mind. It wasn't something he could concern himself with at the moment because, see, Andrew could be pretty one-track minded sometimes, and right now you were the only thing on his mind.

He crawled up to you, well aware by now of how touchy you'd get after orgasming, finding you already stretching your arms towards him and making grabby hands while you attempted to catch your breath.

"C'mere, Andrew. Wanna taste."

He landed on you, mouth first and tongue ready to be received by yours. Even with his aversion to germs, he couldn't find it in himself to mind the mixture of fluids being exchanged by you at that moment. Instead of feeling antsy, his eyes rolled back as you suckled shamelessly at his tongue, moan vibrating against him when you caught a taste of yourself.

"Go change your pants, handsome. I know you're probably itching at the feeling."

"Sorry." he gave you a light smile. "I wanted to do it with you, just-"

"Don't apologize. It was hot." you bit his lip one last time before getting up with him, guiding him to the bathroom with a silent promise to help him wash up.

➽──────────────────❥

The following day hadn't gone as well for Andrew.

He'd had his usual routine, one that you'd grown used to sharing with him, tending to it every morning with little variation in between.

Andrew knew he had some issues, that he was unlike others when it came to order. He knew he could be hard to deal with, just a little too intense when it came to the simpler things.

But you'd never once expressed any dislike towards any of his habits. You'd never questioned him for anything other than clarification, wondering why he liked his sandwiches made a specific way and copying his method next time around, joining him when he folded his clothes and asking him to teach you his method, allowing him to make the bed every morning to his liking, giving him a kiss on the cheek accompanied by a 'thank you' for taking on the task every time.

And today, he'd done the same thing, receiving his kiss and heading out with you and Lena, dropping her off at school before leaving you at Deran's bar and heading his own way for some other job orchestrated by J.

The job went as well as most others, with very minimal issues and a large sum of money acquired by the end. And as per usual, they'd all decided to head back to the house for a celebratory meal, one which you'd offered to cook since Smurf was now gone from the house.

But before Andrew could walk inside, bask in the fact that he had a girl that was crazy about him waiting for him and his brothers with food on the table, he was met with an unknown car parked in the driveway.

The person that stepped out of it was Billy.

Billy, as in Deran's deadbeat dad.

Immediately, Andrew grew angry, yelling at him to get the hell out of his property, practically threatening his life in the process.

None of his brothers had any idea who he was, having been too young to recognize his face from the incredibly short amount of time he'd been around. This meant that Andrew was the only person present who was aware of Billy's heinous behavior while he was just a kid. He was the only one who knew of the endless times in which Smurf had to kick him out, of the shady men he brought around that caused trouble for Julia, of the time in which he'd locked him in a closet for three days.

But even with his anger and insistence he be kicked to the curve, his brothers were reluctant, Deran too curious about his dad and Craig just bored and nosy. J was indifferent, and you were angry along with Andrew as soon as you'd caught wind of the way he'd treated your boyfriend when he was a kid.

Sadly, it was three votes against two, meaning Billy did stick around for longer than Andrew would've liked. Him, and his companion Frankie, who Craig had gained interest on upon laying eyes on her.

Things only got worse for Andrew as DCFS started to snoop around Lena's life, questioning her, raiding your shared home, making thinly-veiled threats of taking her away. All while Deran made plans for a job with Billy, a job that required an extra man, meaning that Deran was eyeing you for the task, creating even more tension in Andrew's life.

That's how you found yourself driving a truck of cargo for them a few days later, agreeing to participate as long as you didn't have to do anything overtly illegal. Andrew was still bothered by it all, but your presence helped him despite the general worry of things going wrong and implicating you with their crimes.

You were driving contraband — as in hollow basinets in which Deran and J would hide, waiting for you to deliver them onto a cargo plane that would then take them to their final destination. After you finished your part, Andrew picked you up on his truck, driving Billy and Craig along as you all headed towards the final meeting point in the middle of the desert.

You sat in the back, diagonal to Andrew as he drove, next to Billy and behind Craig.

"You do any funny shit and I'll kill you." Andrew had warned Billy as soon as he saw him eyeing you, bothered you'd be sitting in the back with him, but knowing Craig was more needed at the front, more experienced.

"Damn, Pope. This your girl? Didn't think you had it in you."

All you could do was ignore him, look out the window and try not to laugh when Billy had reached to the front to turn on some music, only to have his hand slapped away by Andrew, being threatened with getting thrown off the car if he tried again.

At some point you parked, getting out of the car with Andrew as you waited, attempting to calm him as he argued with Billy about benign things, some of which grew more serious as they both irritated one another further.

"Remember the time you lit a fire in the RV?" Billy chuckled, wiping his sunglasses as he paced around in boredom.

"Oh, I remember a lot of things, man. A lot of things."

Billy groaned, as if already fed up of Andrew. "Jesus Christ, like what?"

"Like the time you locked me in a closet and you went to score and you forgot about me for three days?"

You interrupted, scoffing at Billy. "What the fuck? Why would you do that to a kid?"

Andrew shook his head in disbelief, annoyed to relive it.

"Okay, first of all, that never happened." Billy started. "It was a day and a half. But I was a kid, what'd you want me to do?" he continued to pace around while you and Andrew leaned back against the car, Craig napping inside it.

"I was the kid. You were ... You were an adult. You were ... You were 25." Andrew grew exasperated, likely the outcome Billy wanted.

"Yeah, well, technically, the male brain doesn't mature until age 26, okay? So we were both kids."

"I guess you haven't gotten there yet, have you Billy?" you interjected, rolling your eyes at him.

Before he could respond, you grabbed Andrew's hand, taking him away from what was clearly an stressor for him and guiding him to the car with you. Billy continued complaining outside, only getting back into the car to ask Craig if he had some oxy or some blow to kill the time.

Your wait lasted longer than expected, with J calling you guys up and telling you their side of the plan had a detour, that they'd landed at the wrong spot and needed you guys to drive all the way over there, round the mountain past over 60 miles and pick them up from there.

Annoyed at having to share the car with Billy for longer than expected, you bit your tongue, hoping Billy would do the same and leave Andrew alone.

But his silence lasted mere seconds, with him insisting he needed a stop, that he needed to score, or maybe make a pit stop so he could have a few minutes with a hooker to take the edge off. Through the whole ordeal, he and Andrew argued, with Craig annoyingly taking Billy's side in wanting to stop for a piss, or to join Billy in scoring some drugs.

"Yeah, right, he doesn't mind if you piss your pants." Billy started once again when Andrew refused to pull over. "Cause he was in diapers till he was 6." he cackled, enjoying the humiliation he was dawning on Andrew. "God, I remember that like it was yesterday. The doctor said he was regressing."

You could see Andrew's form still from the rearview mirror, posture erect and eyes looking down, likely avoiding meeting anyone's through the reflection. And then Billy continued.

"Personally ... I think it was cause he liked the feeling of Smurf's hands between his legs."

That's when you tensed. You side-eyed Billy, not daring look to him directly, but still eyeing him with anger from your peripheral vision. You felt bile forming in your liver traveling all the way your esophagus and burning at you to burst, felt yourself start to fume at Billy's insistence in humiliating Andrew. Beneath you, your fingers graced at the knife Deran had given you before you'd departed from home, telling you he didn't want you carrying a firearm just yet, but insistent you keep at least one concealed weapon just in case.

You didn't feel anything as you considered your options, anger taking over while you looked to Andrew, taking note of the tight grip he had on the steering wheel. Craig laughing along didn't help matters.

It was when Andrew's embarrassed eyes found yours in the rearview mirror that you really felt like you were about to blow up. He looked away immediately, the car's path wavering slightly, a clear indication that what Billy was saying was getting to his head.

Billy nudged your shoulder with his, urging you to join in on the laughter. "I'm serious. I can't tell you how many times I was banging their mom and we'd feel like somebody was watching us. We'd look up and there'd be Pope. Little Pope just staring at us without even blink- Argh, fuck!"

You couldn't really explain what came over you as you did it, but before you could even consider it, you'd already pulled out the knife from it's hidden spot under the leg of your jeans, bringing it up swiftly and cutting a straight, vertical line down Billy's thigh, deep enough to cut his pants and draw blood out of it — Hell, deep enough it was likely to require stitches.

At that same moment, Andrew swerved the car, coming to an abrupt halt as you all held onto yourselves to not slam your heads against the car seats due to the rapid and sudden movement.

"What the fuck was that, you crazy bitch?" Billy hissed, hands coming to his thigh and pressing on the blood there.

You didn't respond, ripping off your seatbelt and stepping out of the car, your door slamming in the process. Andrew did the same, though instead of rounding the car as you had, he went straight to Billy's seat, pulling the door open and fisting at his shirt, dragging him out before slamming him against the side of the truck. You were standing beside him within seconds, knife still in hand.

"Woah woah, everybody calm down!" Craig said from his seat, peeking back to look at the commotion but not getting off the car.

"Talk to her like that again. I dare you." Andrew huffed, almost nose to nose with Billy.

"You control your bitch. Do you see what she did to me? What, am I not supposed to defend myself when your psycho bitch goes after me like- God, Fuck!"

A punch landed straight to Billy's abdomen, interrupting the spit-filled sermon he'd been delivering. He keeled over, but was immediately slammed back against the car by Andrew.

"Do it. Beat my ass, Billy." you dared him. "Deran will kill you. He'd run you over like roadkill before he let you touch a hair on my head." you looked to him with disdain. "That's if Andrew doesn't do it first."

"You cunt-"

"Yeah, I wouldn't say that if I were you." could be heard from Craig from his spot inside the car.

No more words were exchanged as Andrew's fingers tightened back up around the bunched fabric of Billy's collar, dragging him and pushing him with enough strength he tripped and fell on the sandy field of the desert. Quickly, he led you back to your seat, pushing Billy down once more when he tried to get up and proceeding to get back to the driver's seat, driving away as he ignored the expletives yelled out by Billy as he created distance between you.

When you arrived to the meeting spot, you found J and Deran being dropped off by some unknown woman, questioning her presence until being told to shut up by the latter and letting the two boys into the car.

"Where's Billy?" Deran asked as soon as he settled in beside you, with J to the other side of you.

"He was being an asshole so Pope threw him out." Craig explained.

"Are you kidding me?" Deran looked to you. "We can't do that, man."

You shrugged. "He called me a cunt. I'd say he got off easy."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, after you stabbed him." Craig chuckled.

Deran's eyebrows furrowed, "You what?"

"I didn't stab him, I cut him-"

"We have to go!"

"This is bullshit, we gotta go back for him. This is his job!"

You all spoke over each other, with Andrew interrupting in a low tone, "I told you the cops were onto us. Are you out of your mind?"

"Alright." J gave the final word. "It's fine, let's just go."

Deran sat back, clearly angry at the situation, eyes throwing daggers at the back of Andrew's head until you punched his leg, huffing at him.

It was uncharacteristic of you to act the way you had, and you knew that. But Billy was bad news. Not only was he bad news to Andrew, bringing back painful memories and unnecessarily going out of his way to put him down, but you also knew that on the long run, he'd be bad news to Deran too. He was just too blind to see that, with his mother now in jail and an unspoken want to get to know his father.

Getting back home, you made a stop at a storage unit, unbagging all the cargo from today, the near $1 million dollars the guys had scored on the job. The mood quickly lifted as the guys unloaded stack upon stack of cash from the bags.

"That's a good haul." Andrew praised, receiving a squeeze of his arm from you in silent congratulations.

"Hell yeah, that's a good haul."

"It's almost a million dollars!"

"It's almost 158 grand each." J calculated.

"No, it's 130 each. We're six, remember?" Andrew corrected, gesturing over to you.

You could see both J and Craig faltered at that, looking to each other with a hesitant look.

"Uhm, nah, it's 158 each. I'm not taking anything." you corrected, drawing all four pairs of eyes on you.

"What are you talking about? You helped, you deserve your share." Deran interjected.

You shook your head, eyeing the large stack of money, but not caring much for it otherwise.

"I only did this for Andrew. And, well, for you. I don't want any money."

They stayed silent for a second, looking to each other silently before J nodded, prompting the same response from Craig and Deran. Andrew remained pensive, a sort of frustrated look on his face.

"Listen, this will take a while to clean, so, how about we start with 9 grand cash each?" J suggested. "Here, at least take the 9 grand." he handed everyone a small stack, including you.

Taking it, you weighed it on your hand. It looked very small, comprised of 100 dollar bills, appearing to be less than what you'd expect that amount of cash to be.

You shook your head again, throwing it back onto the larger stack in the middle. "Give my 9k to Lena. I'm sure you guys must have some trust fund for her or something." you knew Andrew did, but you didn't want to be obvious in case the guys weren't aware. "Her parents are gone, you should put this aside for her."

Andrew cleared his throat, taking a quiet step closer to your side, hand silent as it reached yours, thumb running over the back of your palm. It was subtle, unnoticed by the guys as they each put away their money.

"She's right. She's family." Andrew reminded them.

They all looked uncomfortable by the implication, knowing this would create a pattern of cutting an extra share for Lena, but none of them said anything. You made a mental note to talk to Deran about it later.

-

After dropping you and Deran off at the bar, Andrew kissed you goodbye, heading back to the Cody house with the other boys. You didn't really like staying there, considering it enemy territory, still unwilling to be associated with Smurf in any way even during her absence. Andrew understood.

You hung around the bar for a while, until you spotted Deran walking to the back with Billy, who had somehow made it back to civilization after you'd left him stranded back at the desert.

As you walked into the kitchen of the bar, you heard their conversation, not caring to eavesdrop and instead just walking in.

"—a little piece of, you know, fatherly advice. You guys shouldn't do any more stuff with Pope, dude. He's- he's crazier than he's ever been, dude. He's gonna get you guys killed."

You rolled your eyes, making your steps louder so he'd hear you coming.

"How's the leg, Billy?"

He groaned to Deran when he saw you walk in.

"Or this psycho. Did she tell you what she did to me? This crazy bitch and her boyfriend?"

Deran sighed, frustrated, not really caring about the gash on Billy's thigh he'd spotted when he walked into the bar. There was some dry blood on it, but Deran could tell it was a superficial cut, nothing serious.

"Don't talk about her like that, man. From what I'm hearing you deserved it." it was his subtle way of defending you against his dad. He didn't like to take sides, on anything really, but he made sure you knew he wasn't against what you'd done.

"Also." he turned to you. "Smurf's back from jail. I'd steer clear of the house for a while. She'll lose her shit when she finds out Pope's dating someone."

Your eyes widened. The name alone making you groan internally, already looking into the future and all the dumb shit that was about to unfold due to her return. You'd never met her, and you'd never wanted to. Being friends with Deran didn't give you any reason to get to know her, seeing as they all had friends they kept out of her reach. Even being close to him hadn't made your paths cross.

But you were now best friends with her youngest while dating her eldest. There was now a ticking time bomb until you were forced to be in her vicinity.

Things only got worse for Andrew upon Smurf's return. He pulled away from you once the DSFC dropped in on you a day after your return from the job, deciding it was in Lena's best interest if she were placed with a foster family. This on its own destroyed a fundamental part of what your lives had been for the past six months. It made Andrew spiral, with him out of the house at most times, arriving home after you were in bed and only mumbling something about how he'd been looking for Lena all day when he'd return.

You gave it a week before giving up on giving him space. You were worried about him, about Lena. And you really seemed like the only person who shared these concerns. From your understanding, not even Smurf was up to date (nor interested) with what was happening to Andrew.

And so you went to look for him at Smurf's.

Deran had begged you not to, saying that as soon as you met Smurf, your relationship with Andrew would never know peace again. He'd made sure Smurf never knew of Adrian, never allowed her close enough to poison the relationship.

When you got there, having the door opened to you by Frankie, you walked into the pool area. There was some commotion.

There was Andrew right on top of Billy, beating him to a pulp. You saw Andrew shove Billy's head into the pool water, saw Billy pull out a blade and saw Andrew smack it right out of his hand. Everyone gathered to watch, silent and in shock.

J spotted you, and so did Frankie and Craig, but you could only pay attention to Smurf, who had a smile on her lips as she watched her son beat her ex boyfriend to near death.

And just when Andrew was about to land a punch straight at Billy's nose, you spoke up, uttering his name and immediately halting his actions.

"Andrew."

Everyone looked to you then, even Smurf, whose smile dropped and eyes narrowed in your direction.

Andrew got up, landing one last kick at Billy before walking your way only to be received by your open arms.

"Go on boys. Get the groceries from the car." Smurf broke the silence, eyes still on you as you joined the guys in unloading the trunk.

➽──────────────────❥

Smurf hadn't quite acknowledged you just yet, but things were slowly falling right back into place for her.

She'd taken Andrew for a drive, making a few calls and finding out where Lena's foster home was, getting Andrew right back under her thumb with just that bit of information. The same had happened with Deran, whose father had robbed him of his safe at the bar, causing a distressed Deran to come back home for the time being.

You joined Deran and Andrew, staying at their house, steering clear of Smurf under their request, but still having to deal with the looks of annoyance she'd throw your way. She didn't bother much with the facade of niceties she usually pulled, having figured you out as Andrew's girlfriend from the moment your call of his name had been enough to get him to calm down — a skill only ever before being possessed by Julia and Smurf.

"How long you staying here for, sweetie?" she'd asked one day, flipping a pancake.

"For as long as Andrew's here, if that's okay with you." you decided to be civil despite how much you already hated her from mere word of mouth.

"Any of Andrew's friends are our friends." she'd said with a saccharine tone that made you sick.

The reality was that she had bigger fish to fry at that moment. You were a temporary problem she'd be dealing with after she dealt with Lucy and her crew.

She'd been pushing at her sons and grandson to work on Lucy and her guys, trying to convince them that they'd killed Baz and that they'd stolen the money Baz had stolen from her. Somehow she'd been able to make them believe that she'd kept that money as insurance for them, and that Baz had stolen it and hidden it with plans to run away with Lucy to Mexico. You knew it was a partial truth, but were still grateful the guys were at least apprehensive of her words, that they wouldn't fall blind victims to her lies.

But even then, Smurf was able to get them involved in her schemes without much effort.

She'd hired Pete's guys to track down Lucy's brother, Marcos, kidnapping him and using him as leverage to get her to give back the 1.4 million dollars she'd stolen in exchange for his safety.

And just like that, they'd agreed on a time and place to meet. The guys were reluctant, equipping themselves with bulletproof vests and hidden weapons just in case. The job was a simple yet deadly one, which led to your insistence in going.

"The hell you are." Andrew scoffed when you'd suggested it.

"Andrew, I'm not waiting at home to get a call that my boyfriend got killed in a shoot out. I'm going."

You were in the living room of the house while all the guys packed up the truck with weapons. You'd pulled Andrew aside, telling him of your demands.

"Are you crazy? I don't even wanna go. I'm not putting you in harm's way. These guys are dangerous." he huffed, angry at the mere suggestion.

"I'll wait in the car, outside, a block away, I don't care. I'm going. I already spoke about it with Deran."

That was coincidentally when the rest of his family made it back into the living room, eyeing you curiously at your defiant stance. Smurf had an amused look in her eyes.

"What's up?" asked Deran, patting your shoulder absentmindedly as he passed by you on his way to the coffee table.

"The hell do you think you're doing telling her she can come?" Andrew growled at Deran.

Deran shrugged. "She can just wait in the car. We need someone manning the truck in case we need to run fast anyway."

"He's right, baby. Let her come. She wants to help, isn't that right?" Smurf interrupted, making Andrew narrow his eyes at her.

"Mind your own business, Smurf."

"Guys, this is just wasting time. Let's just go. She'll drive the getaway car if things get to that, okay? She did fine with the truck for Billy's job, it's fine." J surprisingly interjected.

You said nothing more, at least glad you could be there for Andrew, already making a promise with yourself that you'd be more present in his life, no matter how dangerous the things he got up to were.

Andrew continued to sulk, complaining and angry everyone would go against him like this, but in the end he had to force a nod, agree and move on.

-

Once there, Craig parked the truck inside the warehouse in which you'd all agreed to meet. You moved onto the driver's seat when they all got off, getting one last kiss from Andrew as he walked away from the car.

"If shit goes south, you just drive, okay? Leave me behind if you have to."

You shook your head. "Anything that happens to you happens to me."

He sighed, but understood you wouldn't change your mind and kissed your lips, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment before joining his family as they waited for Lucy's men to arrive.

From your spot in the car, you couldn't really see much. They were all behind you, standing at a few feet away from Lucy and her men. You could, however, make out some of the words they exchanged. Your hands remained on the wheel, ready to go as soon as they got back into the car. It was unlikely you'd have to actually drive them away, as they were supposed to be able to collect their money and load it in the trunk calmly, but Deran and Craig had insisted you be prepared just in case.

They exchanged Marcos for the suitcases full of expensive jewelry, seemingly not having the entirety of the money owed to Smurf. You could see Andrew and Craig load them up into the trunk of the car as you waited for them to be done, but then there was a voice that suddenly broke out.

"You think this shit is over?" Marcos growled when one of their men took off his mouth gag. "I'm gonna blast all you punk asses tomorrow, watch!"

"Shut up, Marco!" Lucy yelled.

"You sicko bitch. You're done. All of you!"

Andrew was on his way to deliver the last bag into the trunk when Marco suddenly yelled again, pulling a gun out of the man's belt and shooting in Andrew's direction, causing him to fall.

You had no time to react before everyone started shooting, ducking while in the car as they began shooting at it, shooting at Smurf and J who'd jumped behind it to hide.

Craig and Deran pulled out guns, hiding behind anything they could find and shooting in Marcos' and Lucy's directions. Glass shattered from their bullets hitting the car, making you lay sideways across the front seats of the car to avoid getting hit.

Before anyone could process anything, Lucy's guys had already dragged Marcos, who'd been shot on the stomach by Craig after he'd shot Andrew, into their car. They drove away as Deran and Craig continued to shoot after them, and only when the guns seized were you able to get out of the driver's seat, rushing as you'd believed to have seen Andrew become collateral damage.

They all went to check in on each other, asking if everyone was okay, if anyone'd gotten hurt. Meanwhile, you looked around frantically, not even taking note of the various shards of glass that had cut your arms, some even your face. Your chest heaved as you began to hyperventilate, unable to spot Andrew anywhere.

"Where's Andrew?" you cried out, calling everyone's attention.

Deran knelt down, defeated while everyone else's eyes widened, gazes scouting the area but not spotting him anywhere.

"Where- where is he?" you asked again, hand clutching at your chest.

Deran went to you, holding onto you when he realized how heavily you were breathing, trying but failing at soothing you.

➽──────────────────❥

You all made it back home soon after that.

The driving had been left to Craig, as you were in no position to do so at the moment. Deran's passenger seat had been given to Smurf as he sat in the back with you, holding you while you muffled your cries for Andrew.

It had been hard for Deran to convince you to go back home. You'd been adamant, nearly hysterical in you screams to go get him back, to at least try and tail the car that had taken him. But they all saw reason better than you did at that moment. They'd done this before, knew that it was not only impossible to follow them, but also a waste of time. They knew that now you'd just have to wait.

You made it back to the Cody house, everyone quiet with remorse at what had happened. Some surely believing about the chance that Andrew might've been dead by now, having been shot and not treated, or perhaps that he'd been taken and tortured as revenge for Marcos.

They all argued with each other as soon as they sat in the living room. Craig immediately lost his cool, screaming about how they needed to go after him, that they needed to head to Mexico, to act now and get him back before they could begin hacking away at his limbs. Deran seemed more defeated, sitting you next to him as you practically dissociated, head lowered and tears still rolling down your cheeks. You said nothing while they yelled at each other, sat there completely defeated as anger brewed inside you when Craig brought up the reason they were in that situation in the first place.

Smurf.

"Stop. We're gonna get him back, but we need to keep our heads and think it through." she said to Craig.

You scoffed.

"Oh, think it through? Is that what you did when you went behind our backs and took Marco in the first place?" Craig argued back.

"I did that for the family and you know it."

"Oh, yeah, I bet you did." Craig was fuming, something you completely understood.

"Bullshit. This was about you." you interjected, looking to her with the most hatred your eyes could muster. She looked back in a similar fashion.

"You did this shit for you." Deran added, huffing.

"If we had let Lucy steal from us, we would be finished!"

"Finished?" you sneered back. "None of them wanted to do this in the first place! Not Craig, not Deran, not Andrew!"

"You watch your mouth." she warned.

"No, she's right, Smurf." Deran growled, getting up and walking towards her seat. "If Pope is dead. this is on you. This is on you!"

They continued yelling at each other, with Craig accusing J of knowing Lucy's guys while Smurf screamed at them to calm down. Deran kept quiet, but you could still see the anger in him. Eventually you all dispersed around the house, attempting to catch your cools in order to formulate a plan to get Andrew back.

It took hours until Smurf walked into the living room, finding you all sitting around, still fucked up by all that'd happened within the last few hours.

"I'm going to meet Lucy now. Alone." she spoke up. She looked completely destroyed, a look you were sure was brand new for her sons to see.

"Is Pope alive?" Deran asked.

"I don't know."

"I'm coming with you." Craig interjected, only to get shut down by Smurf.

"That's bullshit-"

"You can't go alone, Smurf. It's too dangerous." J reasoned.

But it all ended the same. No rebuttals from any of you could change her mind about going alone. And she was right to do so. There was no way Lucy or her men would ever let a third party interfere, so you all reluctantly agreed. Despite your heart beating right out of your chest, you stayed down, quietly sitting next to Deran as you watched Smurf leave.

It took hours for them to get back. You sat there for hours, rejecting every offer for a drink to ease your nerves coming from Craig and matching every pensive look J had adorning his face. The hours passed as you sat there, immovable, slowly trying to make peace with the fact that maybe Andrew would never come back, that the last words you'd spoken had been a lie.

'Anything that happens to you happens to me.'

Yet you'd remained inside the car, hidden, not even seeing when or where he'd gotten shot, having no idea he'd been taken until after the fact. You hated yourself for it. It was unrealistic to think you could've made any difference, but knowing that Andrew had been taken without a single person putting up a fight to prevent it made you sick to your stomach.

You ran to the bathroom to throw up, with Deran running after you and patting your back to offer you some comfort at what he knew was the worst moment of your life.

Once the sun had set, you finally heard a car pull up in the driveway. You'd stayed stationary in the living room all day, waiting and refusing to go to sleep when the guys had insisted, telling you they'd go get you when they came back. If you missed the moment he came back, you'd only beat yourself up about it even more than you'd already been doing. You couldn't even muster it within yourself to consider the possibility of Smurf returning alone.

The three of you stood by the entrance as the car parked, unable to make out if there was someone on the passenger's seat due to the headlights blaring in front of you.

But then the passenger door opened, and out came your Andrew.

His two brothers stood there as they watched him walk over, but you couldn't hold yourself back from running to him, arms wrapping around the back of his neck and bringing his head down to your shoulder, that space in the crook of your neck he always loved to nuzzle when you held him. His arms wrapped around you within seconds, engulfing you in his large frame while he breathed you in deeply.

"Andrew ..." you cried.

"It's okay. I'm okay, I'm sorry."

You shook your head, fingers running through his hair to soothe him.

"Don't apologize. None of this is your fault, Andrew. Just ... Fuck, just stay like this for a minute."

The guys let you have your moment, with Smurf walking past the two of you hugging and stepping into the house without a word. If she looked angry, you couldn't tell, because your mind was entirely occupied by Andrew as you held him.

When you finally let go, the guys had their turns giving him a hug, eyes teary as they expressed their gratitude for his return, their sorrows for letting him get taken.

"Come on, help me pack some stuff. We're not staying here tonight." Andrew said after you'd made it to his room.

"No? Where are we-"

"Deran's. I already told him. I don't want you staying here with Smurf, it's not safe anymore."

You didn't question him. He was already decided, not even giving himself a minute of rest before he shoved a few things in a duffel bag and grabbed your hand, letting you kiss Deran goodbye and hug Craig and J before leaving. The brothers found your affection strange, but returned it nonetheless.

The drive was a short one, making it to Deran's bar and upstairs to the small apartment within less than fifteen minutes. It was silent, but not tense. Andrew held onto your hand the entire drive, bringing it up for kiss its back at a stop sign when he noticed some tears still in your eyes.

By the time you arrived, you were both exhausted, letting the day get the best of you and practically dragging your feet upstairs. The silence did not help matters, making him feel unnerved about everything when you'd entered the apartment and simply stood in the middle of it while looking down at your hands.

"Andrew ..." you called his attention, sniffling.

He took a few steps towards you, letting the duffel bag fall off his shoulder in the process. He spoke first.

"If this ... If this is too much for you, I understand." he began, exhaling, "You shouldn't have to put up with this- this bullshit. You shouldn't be putting yourself in dangerous situations, waiting for me to get back, or, fuck, joining us when shit goes south."

You shook your head as he spoke, not even entertaining the motion of what he was implying.

"Stop- stop saying that. I don't care, Andrew. No matter what happens, I don't care. I'm staying."

He sighed, looking down and finding your hand reaching for his. He couldn't deny you, not even as he tried to convince you to break up with him, to run and not look back.

"You can't say that. You cant ... You can't keep doing this to yourself. It's not worth it. I can't let you do it."

"Hey." your hands lifted, dropping his and cupping his cheeks instead. "I love you. Anything I have to do to be with you is worth it. Do you understand?"

Your voice was stern, a tone Andrew had never heard from you. In other circumstances he'd feel scolded, duck his tail between his legs and avoid your eyes. But despite your tone, despite how serious and furious you sounded, your eyes were still full of compassion for him.

Without a response, he nodded, letting you pull him down for a kiss and wrapping his limp arms around your waist, holding you to him as he'd done when he first arrived back at the house. The kiss ended after a bit, but your embrace continued for a while longer. Andrew felt you shudder in his arms, frowning at the realization that he'd made you cry again.

Andrew led you to the shower, undressing you and himself, holding you under the water for a few minutes before even bothering to move to get yourselves clean. But your nails dug into the skin of his forearms, and he just couldn't bring himself to pull away. He laid kisses on the wet top of your head, chin eventually finding its home on your shoulder and lips turning every so often to kiss your skin.

When he went to grab some shampoo, your hand reached out to his wrist, stopping him before he could continue, and looking into his eyes with a look that made his heart break. It was the most vulnerable he'd ever seen you, a girl he'd always known for her outspoken confidence, her lack of trouble when holding his gaze in a way not many others were able to.

"Please ..." you pleaded. "I want- I want to feel you. Please, Andrew? I need to ... I need to know you're here."

Your voice destroyed him inside out. It was so meek and broken, lacking any confidence — as if you were scared he wasn't real, that he'd get taken away again if you made your needs known. It was either that or a belief that he'd ever reject you, that he'd ever be offered a way in which to take care of you and decline it.

"Okay." he nodded, leaning down and kissing your lips again.

You cried against his lips, needy hands reaching to his hair and pulling him closer. His own lips opened, seeking you out, taking control and letting himself have you.

It was easy to let go while he had you in his arms. The short time he'd been away, you'd been the only thing on his mind, the one regret he had leaving behind. And he kissed you like so, like he couldn't breathe without you, like he needed to prove just how much he regretted ever being taken away from you. Because this was the only place in which he belonged. He'd come to learn that that feeling was mutual, and he couldn't handle the thought of taking this away from you, of having it be taken away from him.

One of his hands slid down your body, already familiar with the song and dance to get you into position, get your leg lifted, wrapped around his waist so he could slide inside you, neither of you caring that it was too soon or that you needed more prep.

Your shared groans of relief landed in each other's lips, your noises of pleasure making it almost impossible to kiss, but still fighting the battle to try.

Andrew almost lost his balance at the pleasure of being sheathed inside you, one palm slamming against the glass door behind you to recover his balance. He pounded into you, not aggressively, but with every pent up feeling inside him. He let himself loose, liberally groaning and whining your name in between expletives, declaring himself to you.

"Please. Please don't leave." he cried. "I need you here."

It only made you cry louder, nodding your head aggressively and attempting a few syllables in between moans but failing. All you could do in between the crying and the noises of bliss were blabbers.

"Can't fucking do this shit without you. D- don't make me stop."

Your ankle dug harder into his back, pushing him even deeper inside you in a silent plea for him to never stop.

"Don't, oh fuck, please don't stop." you sighed out, head falling back.

Licking at the exposed skin there, he grunted into your neck, sucking on an old hickey he'd left there earlier in the week. He couldn't let it fade. Needed it to be there as a reminder for the two of you.

A chorus of his name hit his ear when you came, pulling him into heaven right with you. But even as you finished, now filled with his essence, he stayed inside you for a while. He kissed and loved on you, something you usually did to him instead. He wasn't sure what'd changed when he'd been abducted, but he just couldn't help himself. It grounded him.

The shower was slow, the warm water somehow lasting all throughout the near two hours you were in there taking care of each other.

He washed you while you washed him, hands soft and slow in their movements. Not many words were exchanged, but those that snuck in between the silence were vows of affection that couldn't help but leave your lips.

When the two of you finally made it to bed, Andrew laid back, positioning himself the same way he always did to engulf you in his arms. But you stopped him, finger gesturing at him to turn around.

"I wanna hold you tonight. I need to make sure you're still here."

And he couldn't disobey that request.

It felt better than he'd ever imagined.

He'd never been held like this by anyone who wasn't Smurf or Julia.

His back was too wide for you to lay down while nuzzling into the crook of his neck like he did to you, so you opted to kiss at his back, mumbling something about wanting to give him a kiss for every freckle adorning it.

"It was her." Andrew whispered after a while of being doted on by you.

"Who?"

"Smurf." he clarified. "The person who killed Baz."

"Did Lucy tell you that?"

You believed him. You just wanted to give him space to keep talking, get it all out of his chest.

"Yeah. A few weeks ago, when she called me down to Mexico. Said Smurf hired some girl to kill him."

"I'm sorry, Andrew."

He shrugged, as if it was no big deal. But you could tell it was. You could tell that if you prodded too much, he'd break.

"I think I need to take care of her." he said after some silence.

"What do you mean?"

He gave you a pensive hum before responding. "I can't tell you. I don't wanna implicate you."

You nodded to yourself, kissing his back one last time in affirmation.

"Okay."

The two of you fell asleep quickly after that. And when you woke up, you chose to spend the next few days holed up in Deran's apartment. It was a way for Andrew to heal from everything he'd been through the past few days, The only worry on his mind was Lena, but you assured him that she was probably fine with her foster family, that you'd help him with whatever he needed after he took rest for a couple of days.

➽──────────────────❥

Things continued to spiral.

Andrew was happy with his alone time with you, away from Smurf and all her pretenses for care for her family.

But when he went back home to discuss Lena with her, he'd found some unprecedented news.

Lena was coming home, but she was coming home to Smurf, with her becoming her primary guardian due to Andrew's record.

She'd used this to rope Andrew into moving back home with her, which he reluctantly accepted after your reassurance that you'd join him if he asked you to — which, despite his shame, he did.

Immediately upon Lena's arrival back home, it was obvious to you and Andrew she did not want to be there. She'd had a taste of a good foster family, one with a daughter her age, looking to adopt a girl just like Lena, and she'd finally found some of the stability that'd been robbed from her when her mother died.

It took everything in Andrew to make this decision, but he ultimately gave in, deciding he'd do everything he could to get Lena back into her foster house, even if it meant dealing with Smurf.

You accompanied him to the foster house, sat back while he talked to Lena as they sat on the swings, apologetic as he shared his struggles when he was her age. He told her about how he was always angry, how kids would push him around, that he'd defend himself and the teachers would get mad, never once punishing the other kids like they did him. He told her about how they all thought he was terrible, even Smurf. He admitted to how awful he thought himself to be, but at least he had someone who was nice to him — his sister, with Baz being the second, and Cath the third. He told her how he promised them he'd take care of her. He cried, knowing this was the final goodbye and shared one last hug with her before getting up and walking back to you.

Your heart broke when you heard him share the intimate details of his childhood with Lena. It made bile fill your stomach, made you shut your eyes close to prevent the tears from trailing down. And when the two of you walked out of the house, you held him, letting him cry in your arms at the sacrifice he'd made.

Back home, Andrew made a deal with Smurf.

He'd give Lena away to her foster parents and keep Smurf's secret about what she'd done to Baz. She argued back, claiming he was in his head, that everyone was worried about his behavior and that she needed him to stay home with him where she could take care of him.

With hesitance, he agreed, knowing that if he didn't, Smurf would go after Lena and the cycle would repeat. He couldn't let that happen to Lena.

"What about Lena?" he'd asked.

"I'll forget she ever existed."

"And ... and what about her?" he asked, referring to you.

Smurf smiled at him. "She's not staying anywhere near my house." she got up, patting his arm lovingly. "Now, you pull yourself together and come join the party."

-

Andrew spent the next three weeks in almost complete isolation in Smurf's home.

It was never explicitly stated, but it was heavily implied that Andrew was not to leave the house, that he was not to step out of line, or else Lena would pay the consequences.

Andrew hadn't seen you in those three weeks. He'd heard from you through Deran, living in turmoil at the thought of being away from you for so long. He hoped you understood, tried to believe you when you said you did, but he was still terrified that you'd one day have enough and run off.

Within those three weeks, Andrew had once opened the door to some woman, a hooker Smurf had sent for him. She'd told him he seemed stressed lately, that he needed something to take the edge off. This only angered him further, making him panic at the thought of this getting back to you.

After sending the woman away, Andrew couldn't help himself, getting in his car and rushing to Deran's bar, no shirt or shoes on due to his rush.

When he finally arrived there, he knocked on your door, tears welling in his eyes and lips quivering. You opened the door within a few seconds, taking him in and immediately rushing to him and cradling him in your arms. The two of you crumbled to the floor as he cried. His hands gripped you harshly, terrified of letting you go and having you disappear forever.

"I'm here, Andrew. I'm here." you comforted him.

"I'm- I'm sorry. I miss you so much. I miss Lena. I miss- I can't do this."

And you cried with him, telling him you missed him too, that you'd be waiting for him until things with Smurf calmed down and enough time passed to make it harder for her to take Lena away from her foster parents. You told him that as soon as she was officially adopted, you'd drag him out of that house yourself, keep him all to yourself and never let him go.

➽──────────────────❥

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series masterlist

note: okay this one was sadder than the last one but i tried my best to give andrew some sort of happy ending lol ill have one for season four done within this month!!

[bistrocatxx]

dbf!toji x reader ⋆ ★

things heat up when you return home and meet your dad's new friend 18+ mdni 2.5k words

The first time you saw him, you were just stopping by. You’d forgotten something at the house and had to turn back for it. You were home for the summer after graduating college, taking a few months to relax before starting a new job in the fall. 

His truck was in the driveway, the bed filled with all kinds of tools and tarps and bags of soil. 

When you walked in the kitchen, he was there– beer in hand, laughing with your dad about something you probably wouldn’t understand, let alone find funny.  

Still, your lips curled slightly as you looked him over. Tall, built– his fitted black tee looked like it was about to rip in half. Sharp green eyes. A scar on the side of his mouth. No ring.

A hand slapped you playfully on the back, pulling you out of your thoughts. You didn’t even realize your dad had moved right next to you.

“This is my daughter, the one I was tellin’ you about.”

You introduced yourself politely, the way you were always taught growing up. Though you had a feeling this man wasn’t one to care for niceties. Everything about the way he was looking at you was telling you to run, but you couldn’t, or more like you didn’t want to.

“Name’s Toji,” he extended a hand out, which you took gingerly. 

He held on longer than he needed to, brushed his thumb across your skin. It wasn’t soothing, wasn’t comforting or innocent. It was sneaky, just out of your father’s eyeline. It was arrogant and presumptuous, something your dad would’ve been appalled by, had he seen it, but Toji didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

Everything about him lit a fire inside you, the space between your thighs burning the brightest.

You gave his hand a light squeeze. “Nice to meet you, Toji.” 

His cock twitched at the sound of his name dripping off your tongue, like honey, so sweet. A smirk spread across his face, complementing the glint in his eyes. You were going to be a lot of fun. 

“Friend of your dad’s. I’m gonna be doin’ some work in the yard this summer.” You were fidgeting, squirming under his intense gaze as his eyes shamelessly slid over your figure the second your father turned to open the fridge for another beer. 

Part of Toji knew he shouldn’t have been thinking about you that way. Forget the fact that you’re young, you’re his friend’s daughter for fucks sake. 

But then again, he knew you were thinking the same thing. He saw that same fire in your gaze, noticed the way you were shifting your thighs– fuck, your thighs. 

Those little cutoffs you were wearing, a sorry excuse for a pair of shorts, they should be illegal. And the crop top you had on, bikini straps poking out the neckline, belly ring shining under the kitchen light… he’d never been a fan of warm weather, nor was he a religious man, but he sent a prayer out to God that day, thanking him for the sweltering heat. 

Days passed since then, and soon weeks.

It seemed like Toji was always around– or maybe it just felt that way. You were looking for him when he was there, and thinking of him when he wasn’t. Secretly hoping you’d find him in the kitchen again, in the backyard, in the driveway when you got home. 

Your summer was made up of tension fueled interactions, riddled with lingering touches and stolen glances. The kind that made your core ache, but seemed innocent enough to anyone else. 

Only because they didn’t know. 

They didn’t know the way he’d undress you with his eyes. The way his hand would always find the small of your back, even when there was more than enough room to get around. The teasing lilt to his voice when it was just you two, like he was trying to gauge how far he could take your shared little game– and you loved every second. 

It was like you were starving and didn’t even know it until he started feeding you. And then, the craving was irresistible. You needed his attention, needed him. 

You pranced around in your cutest pajamas– the ones where the soft fabric would make the shorts ride up, and the top was cut just a little too low. You’d playfully lay a hand on his arm when he cracked a corny dad-joke, squeezing ever so slightly before pulling back. And, of course, you wore your skimpiest bikinis to go lay out, but only on the days when you knew Toji would be around. 

And that’s where you are now– laid out on a lounge chair by the pool, overlooking the lawn. Ice clinking in your glass, you sip leisurely on your lemonade as you admire the view, gazing longingly at the object of your desires.

Toji’s working hard. Dirt and sweat paint his tanned skin, muscles rippling whenever he moves. His white tank top is damp and clinging to his chiseled torso, bunched up around his abdomen. Faded jeans hang low on his hips, there’s a trail of dark hair poking out that leads your eyes down. 

It was unfair. Or, at least it would be, if you weren’t already driving him insane.

Every time he came over, he had to try to focus on his work while you were there, your mere presence taunting him. He can tell when you’re trying to get a rise out of him, but even when you’re not– shit– he almost can’t control himself. 

It’s a constant battle, with him fighting to subdue the feral side of him that wants to just bend you over the counter and fuck you until you’re screaming his name, your parents be damned. 

And he’s mostly been able to keep himself in check… But this? 

This little, black bikini you have on now, just barely covering your nipples. Your dewy skin, droplets of water from the pool making it shimmer under the sun. Your glossy lips closing around the straw in your glass. All he can think about is what it would feel like to have that pretty mouth closed around his cock instead.

Toji notices the way your eyes stalk him, tracking his every movement, like you’re daring him to do something, and the devil on his shoulder keeps reminding him that today, it’s just you two at the house.

You shift in your seat, sit up, and raise an arm to casually wave him over, a coy smile on your face. 

“Tojiii,” you sing-song when he gets close. “Rub this sunscreen on my back for me.”

He knows what you’re doing, you both know you’re being obvious. But he’s not going to pass up this opportunity– no, this sunscreen would have to be pried from his cold, dead hands before he lets that happen.

“Turn around, doll.”

Every time he speaks, the baritone sends a shudder through your body. But that pet name? He’d never called you that before. 

Your skin is so soft, warm from the sun. Not like the calloused hands gliding across your back, rough from age and years of manual labor. Every movement left a trail of goosebumps in its wake, small shivers sent through your body despite the temperature outside. 

The sunscreen’s already absorbed, but Toji doesn’t stop. Fingertips sliding under your bikini straps, dipping into your waistline. Light squeezes to your waist before traveling lower, to the swell of your ass, grabbing the flesh there and making your breath hitch as you arch into him. 

Toji lets himself roam further, wrapping his arms around you, trailing his hands along your hips causing your stomach to flutter. 

“Can jus’ tell me next time you want me to touch ya.” His voice is low, husky, as he speaks into your ear. “Been waitin’ for so long.”

“Didn’ know how to ask you.” All it took was a few light touches from him and you sound breathless already.

“S’alright doll, it’s easy. Say Toji, I want you to fuck me, please.” You hesitate for a moment, breath caught in your throat from the sudden crassness. “Go on, know a lil’ girl like you didn’ forget her manners.”

“Please, Toji, I want you to fuck me.” He groans, deep and gravelly at the velvety sound of your voice as you begged for him. 

“See? Now that wasn’t so hard.” Toji slides a hand in your bottoms, the other planted firmly on your hip. He descends further and further until he finds the wetness pooling between your thighs, rubbing gently up and down your slit.

“You’re drenched, baby, turns you on havin’ an old man touchin’ ya?”

You blush, embarrassed by his words, because it’s true, you couldn’t deny it but still you’d try. “You’re not that old…”

Toji laughs at that, “sure doll, whatever you say.” He’s old enough to be your dad, hell, he’s literally friends with your dad, but he knows you’re aware of that fact, just trying to make yourself feel better about being so into it.

His fingers gather your slick before moving to your clit, rubbing tight, punishing circles. It’s like he’s had years to study your body, to learn what makes you squirm, applying just the right pressure, the right speed.

You’re panting softly, a sheen of sweat returning to your forehead as he works you towards your climax. 

“Close already? Poor thing,” he tuts, “bet you’ve never had a real man touch ya before.” Your legs are trembling already, because he’s right, it’s been a while since the last time you’d been with anyone, and even then, no one had been as good, as precise, as Toji.

You reach back, thread your hands in his hair, gripping hard to ground yourself as you feel like you’re slipping away, getting lost in the familiar feeling tightening in your core.

“T-toji, gonna– ah!

He cuts you off when the fingers that were rubbing you move to your sopping entrance, easily being pushed inside. His thumb replaces them, circling your sensitive clit. You can hear it over the sound of your heavy breathing– the obscene squelching that comes with every curl and scissor of his fingers when he prods at that spongy spot inside you, when he spreads you open so you’re oozing down onto his wrist.

“Fuck- Toji, Toji–” You don’t last long before you’re clenching around his digits, moaning his name repeatedly as you cum all over his hand.

“That’s it, baby. Gotta get ya nice and wet so you can take my cock.”

You mumble a quiet mhmm as he slides his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his mouth, groaning loudly as he swirls his tongue around, licking them clean. 

He’s been dying for a taste of you. He wants to eat you out, have you ride his face until your shaking thighs clamp around his head and he feels like he’s gonna drown in you, but later. Another day. Right now he needs to feel your tight pussy suck in his cock. 

Toji makes quick work of your bikini bottoms, untying the sides and letting it fall to the ground between your feet before moving to free his own stiff cock. It’s painfully hard, pulsing in his jeans. It feels like every drop of blood in his body rushed down to it the minute his fingers disappeared inside your puffy folds and he needs to feel some release.

You’re glancing over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of it, and you’re not disappointed. If anything, it’s intimidating. Long and girthy, there’s precum dripping from the flushed tip, and veins trail up the shaft– your mouth waters.

His signature lazy smirk returns to his face as he watches you admire his dick, pumping it slowly. “Gonna take it all, aren’t ya?” You swallow loudly and nod your head as you look back up into his eyes. “Atta girl. Now bend over f’me.”

As your shaky hands meet the cushioned lawn chair, your mind keeps replaying that image of his cock and shit, what have you gotten yourself into? 

Toji lines himself up with your entrance, one hand gripping his base. The other hand on your ass, he spreads you open for him and taps the tip against your folds, a loud sticky sound each time as your cum coats the underside.

You crane your neck to shoot him a glare which pulls a chuckle from him, though it morphs into a moan when he starts to sink inside you. “mmf-fuck baby– greedy fuckin’ pussy.”

You cry out, sharp and high pitched, when he snaps his hips forward, tired of going slow, he’d been nice enough to prep you with his fingers after all. 

“Sure you ain’t a virgin or some s-shit? Squeezin’ me so t-tight, doll, gotta relax so I can fuck ya the way you wan’ me to.” He’s stuttering, the words barely getting out as he grits his teeth together, his jaw clenched, breathing forcefully through his nose.

“Toji more, wan’ you s’bad.” More. He’s been ready to give you more. He was just waiting to hear you say it.

The pace he sets is nothing short of brutal. 

Borderline pornographic moans fall from your mouth as your poor pussy cries from the way Toji’s bullying it. Your arousal seeping out around his pelvis, onto his balls, the chair beneath you.

You let yourself get lost in him, surrendering to him completely, he’s giving you everything you didn’t know you needed.

His cock was made for you. Reaching that perfect spot inside you every. time. 

“So wet f’me. Such a naughty girl– moaning cause she’s gettin’ split open by her dad’s friend. Fuckin’ filthy.”

If only you had half a mind to care about what he was saying. All you could do was whimper in agreement because it was true. It was all true. 

“Pr– shit– pretty lil’ thing though.”

Toji’s voice is strained, his movements losing rhythm as he feels himself getting close. 

A hand slides around your waist, finding your clit again, he’s determined to make you cum again before he does. Not going to let himself cum before you like he’s some frat boy, he thinks you probably know enough about that.

The coil in your stomach winds itself tighter and tighter, your muscles tense, eyes shut and mouth frozen in the shape of his name, you feel yourself approaching that cliff, closer, closer, until– 

“C’mon, doll, wanna feel ya cummin’ all over my cock.” 

And you do. You cum hard, loud, messy, the kind of orgasm that leaves your lungs empty and your body tingling, and Toji follows right behind you. 

All ten digits now digging into your hips, he slams you back onto him with a loud grunt, one last thrust buried to the hilt, before pulling out of your slippery hole and decorating your ass with hot, white streaks. 

He drags a hand tiredly over his face as you both catch your breath– the reality of your situation setting in. The aftermath of weeks of pent up tension and flirting. You’re so fucked.

a/n: eee this was rotting my brain for a few days im so happy i finished it and hope yall liked it

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

[sc3ptre]

Hii, I was wondering if I can request a Drew Starkey fic, were the reader and Drew Starkey do Truth or Drink interview together, like how Madelyn Cline and Madison Bailey did, and they’re baicly flirting the whole time and the chemistry is just so good, and yeah. I hope you have a great day!!!

Y/n Y/l/n and Drew Starkey play Truth or Drink

Pairing: Drew Starkey x fem!reader.

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

A/n: Changed the blog's name a few days ago! Hope you guys stick around 🙂

Genre: suggestive fluff

Warnings: suggestive comments, flirting

Word count: 0.7k

The rules were simple: ask your partner an uncomfortable question. They either answer it… or take a shot.

You were seated across from Drew with a tiny table between you both, cluttered with cards, shot glasses and just enough alcohol to make bad decisions feel fun.

“Alright,” the interviewer smiled off-camera. “First up, just for the people at home, who are you two and how do you know each other?”

Drew leaned forward, his smile already smug. “I’m Drew… Y/L/N.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “And I’m Y/N… Starkey, I guess.”

The crew laughed. Drew looked over at you, eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. “Y/N, care to answer the question?”

You turned to the camera with a grin. “Before we played enemies on Outer Banks, I actually crashed into his car on the way to the audition.”

“No way,” the interviewer said. “I thought that was a fan-made rumor.”

You both shook your heads. “I wish it was,” you laughed. “But hey…great icebreaker. Also, great way to get someone’s number. Highly recommend.”

“Don’t say that,” Drew groaned, laughing. “Car crash statistics are gonna spike next week.”

You giggled as he reached for the first card. “Alright, Y/N,” he said, holding it up like a threat. “Might wanna fill that glass.”

You groaned, pouring your shot. “Here we go…”

Drew smirked. “What’s something I do that annoys you?”

You paused. “We’ve lived together.”

He added quickly, “With other castmates too.”

Your eyes met his, thankful for the quick assist. “Yeah, during the pandemic. So I know his darkest secrets, like, blackmail worth material,” you teased, looking toward the crew. “Is this PG-13 or…?”

“As clean as you can keep it,” the producer said.

“Right.” You took the shot. The crew erupted with laughter.

“That bad?” Drew asked, amused with his eyes a little wide.

It was a mix of things, really. He used to narrate his scenes in his sleep which was terrifying but quickly became comforting and he also had a habit of singing off-key very early in the morning which made you want to smother him with a pillow but now, it was your favorite kind of concert before breakfast, even better when it was a duet. Then, when you became a couple, it was the moaning while eating food you cooked, the walking around half naked when your A/C broke and the dirty talk he didn’t realize he was doing, muttering “Fuck, you look hot” even when doing mundane things, all things making you horny 24/7.

You gave a coy shrug. “I’ve grown to love it, I swear but some stuff just isn’t for the internet. I’m protecting your legacy, Starkey… even if I do love seeing you in the mornings.”

He smirked. “You love seeing me all the time, admit it.”

“I plead the fifth.” You reached for a card. “Okay. Who would you want to be stranded on a deserted island with?”

Drew didn’t hesitate. “I’d say Chase… but we’d be dead in a day and a half, he doesn’t like to cuddle and he’s mean when he’s hungry.”

You snorted. “He refuses to cuddle?”

“He does, so I’m picking you.”

“Of course.” You grinned. “You ever seen The Blue Lagoon?”

His eyes darkened slightly and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “That one shot got to your head quick.”

“About time for a remake, don't you think?” you teased. “It’s a classic. Sand, sun, morally confusing tension…”

“Sounds familiar,” he mumbled, eyes locked on yours.

“Yes, it does…let’s see,” You looked away, cheeks hot and grabbed another card but Drew beat you to it. 

“If someone wanted to date me, what would you warn them about?”

You turned toward the camera. “Well… he’s a big guy…he eats a lot.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Eats a lot?”

You smirked. “Like… a starved man, especially certain… things.”

The crew howled with laughter. Drew leaned back in his chair, grinning wide. “What kind of things, Y/n?” he asked innocently.

You made a show of thinking. “Mmmm…tacos?”

More laughter erupted while Drew filled your shot glass and his. “Good save but for that one we’ll drink together.”

“Cheers to tacos,” you said, clinking glasses, both knocking them back in unison.

When the round wrapped up, the producer leaned in. “Final thoughts, what was it like playing Truth or Drink together?”

“Great for me,” Drew said, shooting you a look. “Y/n?”

You giggled, cheeks flushed and eyes warm. “I think we need a ride home but I had a really good time,” you added, looking at Drew with a smile that didn’t need translating.

He smiled back. “Yeah. Me too…in the mood for some tacos?”

[mifvyfilms]

── .✦ ZORO RORONOA: the direction to my heart .ᐟ

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ IN WHICH, his sense of direction is terrible—but that’s what makes him, him .

⊹ fluff ᝰ zoro x fem! reader

──────── ୨୧ ────────

── "THERE’S TREASURE on this beach?" you questioned. you had just joined the straw-hats a few days ago, and their next mission was to take a break and go to the beach.

"of course! why wouldn't there be any?" nami handed you a map of the island. "you and zoro can go find the treasure while the rest of us tan in the sun!"

"GREAT THINKING, NAMI!" sanji shouted, running to jump on her—but she moved out the way and he fell off the ship.

"why do i have to go look for treasure?" zoro complained, not even glancing in your direction. at least he didn't complain about finding it with you…?

luffy jumped off the ship to go get sanji, and everyone glanced down from the railing. "i can go search with you guys!—"

"uh, no. you have to stay here. you’ll get in trouble, and we're here to relax," nami told luffy, and he sulked. but she threw him a stick of meat that sanji made earlier, which instantly cheered him up.

"what are you guys still doing standing there? go find the treasure!" usopp pushed you and the samurai off the ship and onto the sand.

you landed on your butt while zoro landed on his feet. he grabbed you by the back of your shirt collar to help you stand up. "where do we go first?" he asked, examining the area.

you glanced down at the map in your hands. "that way," you pointed left.

and what did zoro do?

go RIGHT.

"WRONG WAY, ZORO!" you saw him stop running on the beach. he turned around, dumped the sand out of his shoes, before running left.

you sighed before looking up at the ship, noticing robin glancing down at you while smiling. she waved at you guys, and you hurried to catch up to zoro, who was slipping out of your view now.

"oh, shoot." you sighed, glancing around the area. "i lost him."

zoro had run off, leaving you behind. the fact that you had the map made you question why he was running off somewhere without telling you.

you wandered around this town, not too far from where your ship was docked. you tried to think of where zoro would head off to, but his sense of direction is way too bad.

you ended up giving up and decided to go find the 'treasure' on your own. you decided to search in a cave but ended up running out after a bat started chasing you.

"it’s so hot..." after dumping sand out of your shoes, you cupped your cheeks, feeling the sun's warmth radiating your skin. you didn't bring any water with you, so your mouth was getting dry.

you wiped the sweat trickling down your temples and slowly walked to the next town.

"hey, pretty."

a hand was placed onto your shoulder. you sluggishly turned around, noticing three guys suspiciously smiling at you. "you look a little lost. do you mind if we help?"

you took a step back, but they only took a step forward. "i’m good," you swallowed.

"really?" one of them grabbed your wrists, and you weren't able to yank them away.

however, you kicked them hard enough for them to finally let go; they went flying, crashing into a pile of barrels. "don’t touch me!”

"BOSS!" they shrieked.

he opened his eyes and looked at you. "oh, you're gonna pay." he was about to lunge at you until you felt a pair of hands grab your waist.

and the next thing you knew, you were being carried onto someone's shoulder. "z-zoro?!" you exclaimed, as he was helping you get away.

"were you lost or something? you disappeared, and the next time i see you, you're getting harassed." he bit his sword, and you deadpanned.

"you left my sight! don’t go running off like that!" you cried, watching the three men chase after you both.

zoro stopped running and turned around. "hang on," he told you, and you suspected he was going to fight these guys.

"you can put me down now—"

but within a second, the three guys were slashed and on the ground. "we gotta go."

the relaxing beach day to find treasure and take a break? it turned into the straw hats getting chased by a group of rookie pirates.

"I KNEW I SHOULD'VE GONE WITH (NAME) AND ZORO!"

"YOU WOULD'VE MADE IT EVEN WORSE, LUFFY!"

"IF YOU'RE GOING TO SEND PEOPLE AFTER US, AT LEAST BRING BACK TREASURE?!"

"THERE WAS NONE!"

"WAS THERE AT LEAST COTTON CANDY?!"

"NO!!"

──────── ୨୧ ────────

© MIFVYFILMS ( pls don’t copy my works, repost it as your own, or translate ) MASTERLIST

[cheeseceli]

Their celebrity crush

Pairing: ot7!BTS × gn!reader

Genre: headcanons, fluff

Request: Could you write one where Ot7 are dating their celebrity crushes?

Warnings: they are idols, mentions of fans and rumours, mentions of Hybe (?), jungkook's reader has been working for longer than him

A/n: I have another version of this, one way more delulu and cringe, but I couldn't find it so here we go | daily click

Jin

I believe he would want to keep the relationship private in most scenarios

That's not one of them though

Everyone and their mothers are going to know about this

First, everybody already knew you were his crush

Bro has no filter

He probably said it with all the words

So once you guys actually date

Man, he's not gonna shut up

Obviously he wouldn't do anything of that if you're not comfortable with it

But in the end he's just a fan

Yoongi

Oh he's so cocky about this

100% bragging about it every time

I don't see him as someone who has a lot of celebrity crushes

You'd be like one of the few

Maybe even the only one

So he only had one chance and STILL managed to date you?

Goat

You're also never knowing that lmao

Yes, he'll brag about dating you but you'll never know he was your biggest fanboy ever

And as he already assumed to write fanfics when younger

Imagine him reading fics about you before dating you 😭

J-hope

I am a firm believer of social butterfly hobi

Meaning he knows everyone

Including you

Even if you are or aren't from the same industry

What matters is that he knows you

And he tries to keep it cool and pretend everything's fine

Because he finally managed to talk to you

He doesn't want to scare you off

But

Rumours go that he is your celebrity crush

Since feelings are mutual

Who is he to lose a chance like this

Right?

Namjoon

Bro really really really is tryna keep it shut

Like he's doing his best to not open Vlive right now and just say

"yo, guess who's dating y/n"

And he's 100% aware that this is a horrible move

But he wants to do it nevertheless

Honestly, at this point he's hoping that you will slip up so he can finally bring it up

But fans already know something is up

I mean

It's kinda hard not to when he is so obviously in love in his songs

And oh, is that a a very clear reference to you in his lyrics?

Jimin

This would definitely start the wrong way lmao

The ever so friendly and flirtatious Park Jimin is going viral for... not liking you

Or at least that's what netizens think

The truth is that Jimin and you get to be special MCs for a program for once

And you see, he's used to being people's crush

Now he is the one having a crush

In order to avoid being obvious about it and making rumours up, he tries to avoid you overall

And now people think he hates you

Let me tell you that he PANICS when he finds this rumour out

So imagine when his apologies to you work and, after a while, you're dating

The shock the internet (and him) would feel

Taehyung

He's literally the opposite of Namjoon

Namjoon is trying his best to not spill the tea

Taehyung is trying to spill it without people noticing

At this point he thinks of it as a game

Let's see how close to insanity he can bring the dispatch staff

Seriously though, he just admires you so much

And he's so proud of you

It's not fair to expect him to not overflow with love

If he sees the green light coming form you, better believe he will make Hybe do some damage control

Jungkook

This one was funny

You were his crush before he was too famous

So he was like

"Imagine if we were famous and I met Y/n?"

A boy can only dream, right?

Except he didn't dream, he manifested

Then one day BTS becomes famous

He becomes famous

And the next thing you know is that Jungkook is finally talking to you

And you better bet that he's shooting his shot when he finally gets to see you

Masterlist | you'll probably like: I'm not letting go

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @butnotmontana @sheraayasherrecs @queenofdumbfuckery @lezleeferguson-120

Dividers by @cursed-carmine | images 1, 2 and 3

[kaisentine]

LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE

mydeimos x reader ⚡︎ modern au (there’s no prophecy), cipher is cipher, spoiler alert : mydei is the true liar, everyone is probably on something or something, profanity, poorly written with little proofreading ⚡︎ sticky note . heh . . . was writing smth and realized i referenced something that is a way better idea

maybe you should’ve seen it coming with cipher laughing hysterically beside him, not even trying to stop herself from slapping her thighs from laughing so hard. you’d probably have the same reaction if you were in his situation.

“dear kephale, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” obviously you’re exaggerating his real expression (his face is stone cold and his stance is nothing more than him crossing his arms in what seems to be annoyance).

he looks at you and from where you’re standing, it looks like he’s a strict parent lecturing a child.

cipher has stopped laughing like a maniac but the soft giggles never cease, even when she speaks up. “oh, jeez! you should’ve been here like three minutes ago! we could’ve been laughing buddies.” she says in between gasps of air.

you raise an eyebrow.

what could mydei have said or done to get this reaction out of cipher? sure, it doesn’t take a lot for her to start laughing but you didn’t think you’d live to see the day that mydei could make her laugh.

“. . . why? what happened three minutes ago?” you gaze towards her in confusion. “ugh! if you were here at that time, i wouldn’t have to explain it to you . . .” she sighs a whine while shaking her head.

“i could probably laugh along with you if you’d just tell me . . .” you shake your head as well.

mydei doesn’t look too pleased with the either of you. if looks could kill, there would probably be crime scene investigators on spot right now.

cipher takes notice of his expression. “i’d so love to but your little boyfriend would probably kill me along with you.” what is she talking about boyfriend? never mind that—little? it’s funny because he towers over the both of you which is much more obvious with cipher by how she’s standing next to mydei.

now his gaze is solely on the cat-like woman. “for fucks sake, let that go already . . . don’t bring them into this.” you realize that’s the first time you heard his voice this entire conversation and it takes you aback for a second, it’s like you haven’t heard his voice in a million years.

“if you guys are just gonna keep me in the dark, i’d rather go to phainon or something.” it isn’t an empty threat because you were planning to visit him anyway but you couldn’t really call it a threat either way.

there’s contemplation glazing over cipher’s look.

.

.

.

“your little boyfie actually likes you!”

and she’s off running into another direction before you and mydei could even react. she’s already out of sight when he flinches with wide eyes. “don’t listen to a word she says, got it? she’s a dirty liar!” there’s something dark (betrayal) in his voice and he almost screeched that last part.

honestly, you don’t give it another thought after he starts chasing after her.

you wouldn’t put that lie past her. she’s lied about a million things and this is probably just another one of those lies.

sad, you wish it were true.

“uhm . . . okay.” you whisper to yourself.

you’re now with phainon at this cafe he wanted to try for a while. there isn’t much to talk about because you guys have talked about everything (you think) under the sun at this point.

then you suddenly remember what happened with cipher and mydei a few hours ago. “oh yeah, everyday i’m reminded cipher is a funny liar.” you quietly chuckle.

“what happened?” phainon looks up from the food he was very intensely eyeing. “she told me mydei likes me. her lies just get worse and worse to the point where i just find it funny.” you won’t even mention the way she calls mydei your boyfriend.

phainon’s lips press together like he’s trying not to laugh.

“oh no, yeah . . .” he takes a bite and continues talking with food in his mouth. “cipher is a really good liar. she could be telling the truth, though.” he shrugs. “i doubt it, mydei would probably bodyslam me with no hesitation. plus, if you knew, you’d probably tell me about it, right?”

“. . . uhhh sure.”

[saturntosatoru]

you take my breath away! || gojo satoru x f!reader

summary: Sex with Gojo is suffocating.

warnings: explicit content (mdni!)

a/n: Just a quick lil smth to get back into the swing of things! Sorry for disappearing for a few weeks—I was on vacation with my family and wayyy too busy (and tired) to write anything. Please accept this humble peace offering 🙇‍♀️

masterlist

Fucking Gojo was stiffling—hands clawing at any available expanse of skin, teeth scraping against tendons, licks and murmurs filling any of the negligible space between the two of you. His body would press you into the bed, desk, wherever you two were going at it, and you’d feel every inch of his body, infinity encapsulating both of you.

He always joked the sweltering heat of your “passionate rendezvous” (his words, not yours) was just a palpable tension, your physical chemistry manifested. You argued it was gross and you needed to breathe lest you passed out.

It doesn’t take Six Eyes to see what was going to happen one day.

Satoru’s got you nestled between his arms, forearms bracketing your head, while he drills into you. Your legs wrap around his waist, ankles crossed behind his ass to press him deeper into you. Your smaller hands push weakly against his shoulders, trying to gain some breathing room, but Satoru ignores your efforts, curling around you and whispering filthy nothings into your ear.

“’T-Toru,” You whimper, head tilting back to try and gasp in some air.

“Yeah, baby?” His teeth scrap against your ear, latching onto the sweet spot behind your ear that makes you lightheaded. He tilts his hips down to compensate, squashing his body harder onto your chest.

The new angle makes you see stars, a steady heat building up within you. “’Toru, I can’t—Oh, fuck,” you moan. “There, yeah, baby, don’t…don’t stop—w-wait no, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can baby,” He coos, pulling back a bit while you gasp in fresh air. “You can take it, sweets. You can take everything I give you. Just trust me.”

His hand creeps down, thumbing over your clit and your back arches harshly, bending into Satoru’s body. “There we go, that’s it.” He watches you thrash around, trying to escape the pleasure wracking your body. Your lips part in a silent scream as he angles his hips up, aiming for gold.

A tear streams down your cheek. Jackpot.

Your body tenses as you climb your ascent, eyes locked on Satoru’s but seeing nothing, hazy to the world. The tension sags as he draws out, offering a brief relief as you involuntarily whine in protest. Strong hands grasp your hips, flipping you over so your head is cushioned in the pillows, back arched neatly for Satoru as he enters you again.

He hisses through his teeth as he reenters you. “Fuck, you’re even tighter like this, huh?” You babble something into the pillow below you. “Shit, n-not gonna last long like this.” Satoru sweeps his hair back, refocusing on getting you two to the end together before withdrawing slightly and thrusting back into your heat. He experiments with a few angles, watching how your body tenses or relaxes with each one.

He finally settles on a rhythm that makes you grip the bedsheets tightly, gasps being forced out with each thrust. “Too—fuck, oh—too much, ‘Toru, I can’t breathe oh my god fuck…”

His body drapes over your back, pace unaffected, as he tucks his chin over your shoulder, face right up next to yours. All you can process is him, his hand that’s resumed attacking your clit, and the building pressure within you.

“What was that, baby?” He croons at you. If you were any less overwhelmed by the onslaught to your body, you’d pick up on his furrowed brow and tight expression, his resolve slipping and hips picking up speed as he also approaches his peak. “Couldn’t—ghh—couldn’t quiet hear you. W-wanna try one more time for me? One more round after this?”

“No no no, please no more, I ca—” You cut yourself off as the pleasure keeps building, Satoru’s fingers speeding up by the second. You see white behind your eyes as it all becomes too much, the coil too tightly wound within you, and then you’re gushing around Satoru’s dick, his thrusts becoming jerky as he tries to work you through your orgasm while he also finishes.

It’s silent in the aftermath, the only noise in the room Satoru panting as he pulls out. He collapses next to you, using his lingering grip on your hips to shift you into a more comfortable position on top of him.

“Damn, babe. I think we should scrap our dinner plans tonight and get takeout at this point.” Satoru exhales, breath finally caught, before his gaze shifts to you. You’d said before, in between heated kisses, that you both were going to miss your reservation if things escalated. Normally, you’d pipe up with an ‘I told you so’ that invited Satoru to kiss the pout off of your lips.

Now, however, there’s silence on your end. Satoru cranes his chin down, trying to get a better look at you. Gently sweeping some hair stuck with sweat to your forehead, he gently tilts your head up, seeing your lifeless form. Cold shoots through his veins, and he doesn’t waste a moment in teleporting you both to Shoko’s infirmary.

notes:

Shoko immediately freaked out upon seeing both of you—not because you were passed out—but because you were both buck-ass naked in the middle of her infirmary. Fortunately, waking you up was just a matter of getting some liquid IV in your system and a cold compress to the forehead. Unfortunately, Gojo warped into the room when she was helping a few first years after a skirmish against a Second-Grade curse.

This became your ultimate ‘I told you so �� moment for the next few years. However, Gojo felt so bad about you passing out that he instilled a safe word for breathing. Unexpectedly, the only time it ever got used was one time you were riding his face and he forgot to breath, pussy-drunk as he was. (You used it out of fear of his safety.)

Funny story for brunch aside, Gojo lost a decent amount of respect that day in the infirmary, but you gained even more once Shoko saw how much Gojo was packing. On three separate occasions afterwards, she’d offered either a gift card to a massage parlor or to check that your insides were holding up, because Gojo looked like he put you through the wringer.

© 2025 saturntosatoru on Tumblr, all rights reserved

[andy-15-07]

first of all i love love love your fics you’re literally carrying the fandom on your back at this point anywho

joaquin x reader where reader is really close with sam and bucky to the point they’re like father figures so reader goes with them during the tfatws situation and during, they meet joaquin and start dating after without bucky and sam knowing until one day they figure the two out

Secrets and Soft Landings

PAIRING: Joaquin Torres x Reader 💋

WORD COUNT: 1266 ✍️

REQUESTS: Open! 💌 (send yours my way — I love writing them all!)

🌟 Danny Ramirez Masterlist 🌟

You’ve known Sam Wilson since you were seventeen and way too stubborn for your own good. You’d been the kid always hanging around the old VA center, poking your nose into anything that looked like it might help someone. Sam had taken one look at your wild hair and sharper tongue and decided you were his new problem to deal with.

Then came Bucky , gruff, skeptical Bucky , who, despite his “I’m not your babysitter” attitude, always seemed to show up whenever you needed backup. Together, they’d become the closest thing to family you had.

So when they called you about some “Flag Smashers mess” and asked you to tag along, you hadn’t hesitated.

Now, you stand on the tarmac next to the borrowed plane in Munich, arms folded as you watch Bucky glare at Sam for the hundredth time that morning.

“Are you two gonna bicker all day, or are we actually doing the job?” you call out.

Bucky’s eyes flick to you. “Stay out of it, kid.”

Sam raises his eyebrows. “Stay out of it? They’re the only reason we haven’t killed each other yet.” He grins at you, and you shoot him a thumbs up.

You’re about to throw back a joke when you hear a voice behind you.

“You must be the famous troublemaker.”

You turn and find yourself looking up at a fresh-faced guy in fatigues and combat boots, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. He holds out a hand. “Lieutenant Joaquin Torres. I’ve heard… a lot about you.”

You narrow your eyes at Sam, who’s trying , and failing , to hide his grin. “All good things, I hope?”

Joaquin’s smile widens as he shakes your hand. “Depends on your definition of good.”

You snort. “Great. Another smartass. Just what this team needs.”

Bucky mutters under his breath, “We’re a magnet for them.”

A few weeks later

You hadn’t planned to fall for Joaquin. Not really.

It started with late nights at makeshift bases, the two of you perched on crates or cheap folding chairs, watching grainy feeds of suspicious trucks or sketchy border crossings. He’d talk , about his mom back home, about growing up, about the day he first met Sam. You’d listen, tease him a little, but somehow he’d always get you talking too.

Then came the missions. The moments you’d catch his eyes through the chaos, the way his steady presence made you feel safe in a way that surprised you.

You kissed him once, outside a safe house in Riga, while Sam and Bucky were arguing inside about jurisdiction and moral high ground and who was sleeping on the lumpy cot. Joaquin’s hands had been warm on your face, your laugh muffled against his lips when he whispered “We probably shouldn’t…” , and then kissed you again anyway.

Now, you’re back stateside, sitting on the edge of his tiny bed in his tiny apartment, half dressed in one of his shirts. He’s standing in front of you, grinning while you poke at the bruise blooming under his collarbone.

“You need to be more careful,” you murmur, tracing the edge of the bruise with your thumb.

He catches your wrist and presses a kiss to your palm. “You say that every time.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t listen every time.”

He laughs, pulling you closer until you’re tucked against him, your legs dangling off the side of the bed. “Can I tell you something stupid?”

You glance up. “Always.”

“I keep waiting for Sam and Bucky to kill me.”

You snort. “You’re not that bad at your job.”

He rolls his eyes. “No, for this. For… us.”

You go quiet. He’s right, of course , you haven’t told them. Sam calls every other day; Bucky drops by unannounced sometimes, usually with coffee and a gruff “Don’t tell Sam I brought this, he’ll make fun of me.”

But telling them you’re dating the kid they half-bullied through intel reports and drone surveillance? Yeah… you’ve kind of been putting that off.

“Soon,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck. “We’ll tell them soon.”

“Soon” comes faster than you plan.

You’re at Sam’s place , his sister Sarah had invited you for dinner. Bucky’s there too, feet propped on the coffee table like he owns the place. You’re leaned back on the couch next to him, flipping through your phone, when there’s a knock at the door.

Sarah lets out a “That must be Torres!” before you can react.

Your eyes widen. “Wait , Torres is coming?”

Sam looks up from the kitchen, where he’s helping Sarah chop vegetables. “Yeah. I invited him to dinner. Figured we’d all catch up.”

Bucky snorts. “Didn’t think you’d mind, since you two got along so well.”

Your heart does a funny flip. “Uh-huh. So well.”

The door swings open, and there he is , Joaquin, fresh haircut, casual jacket. He sees you immediately. His eyes flicker: surprise, delight, panic.

“Hey!” he says brightly. Too brightly. “Hey, everyone.”

“Hey, Torres!” Sam calls. “Grab a beer from the fridge.”

Bucky eyes him. “You look nervous, kid.”

You’re desperately trying to communicate Don’t be weird, don’t be weird with your eyes. Joaquin’s grin twitches. “Nervous? No, man. All good.”

You get up and head to the kitchen to help Sarah, hoping to put some distance between you and the impending disaster. But it doesn’t help much.

At some point, you feel Joaquin slip behind you, brushing his hand across your lower back. It’s a tiny thing, but Bucky notices. You know Bucky notices , you can feel his stare burning a hole through the back of your skull.

Later, you’re all sitting at the table. Sarah’s telling some story about Sam fixing the boat. You’re laughing. Joaquin’s laughing. It’s all fine until Bucky, deadpan, cuts in:

“You two wanna tell us when you started dating, or should we just keep pretending you’re real subtle?”

You freeze. A piece of cornbread halfway to your mouth. Joaquin chokes on his drink.

Sam blinks. “Wait , what?” He looks at you, then Joaquin. Back at you. “You’re dating?”

You open your mouth. Close it. “I… uh… surprise?”

Joaquin tries to salvage it with a bright smile. “Hey, at least you know now!”

Sam drops his fork with a clatter. “Now? How long is now?”

You glance at Joaquin. He glances at you. You both say, at the same time: “A few months?”

Bucky lets out a bark of a laugh. “I knew it. You two are terrible at hiding things.”

Sarah just rolls her eyes and pats your shoulder. “About time they figured it out.”

Sam’s still staring at you. “You , you didn’t think this was worth mentioning? Me? Your favorite?”

You reach across the table, squeeze his hand. “I love you, Sam. Please don’t kill my boyfriend.”

Joaquin raises both hands. “Yeah, please don’t kill me.”

Sam sighs dramatically. “You know I’m gonna haze you for the rest of your life now, right?”

Joaquin grins. “I’d expect nothing less, Captain.”

Bucky claps Joaquin on the back , a little too hard. “Relax, kid. If you mess this up, I’ll just make sure you disappear quietly.”

You smack Bucky’s arm. “Don’t threaten my boyfriend at the dinner table!”

Sam leans back, folding his arms with a smug grin. “Dinner just got a lot more interesting, huh?”

And despite your mortification, you can’t help but laugh. Because Joaquin’s warm hand finds yours under the table , and you realize it’s not so bad. Not when your family, weird threats and all, is exactly where you belong

[forbiddenforestofdesire]

tw: stancest

Stan sipped the last few dregs of his coffee as his eyes glazed over the Gravity Falls Gossiper. Toby was still running stories on “the mysterious floating incident,” but from what he’d heard, the townsfolk were chalking it up as a hurricane to get their insurance payouts. Guess that was more believable than the woodpecker. He gnawed at his last soggy strip of bacon and his toaster waffle. The gas line was cut from the whole…Portal thing yesterday, it was a miracle he could still use the microwave.

Stan heard a thump as he almost jumped out of his skin, and the sounds of the kids running down the stairs. Dipper was running headfirst with a butterfly net, while Mabel followed after him. She briefly stopped, skidding on the back of her shoes to a halt. Mabel grabbed the waffle off his plate and shoved it in her mouth, chewing as she talked. 

“Hi Grunkle Stan, we gotta go! I'd bother trying to come up with an excuse but the thing that ate all our Summerween candy stole Dipper’s Wendy stuff. We’re taking Soos’s truck to chase him down. Ok, love you! Bye!” 

She waved and ran off, while Soos sheepishly popped his head into the kitchen.

“So, Mr. Pines. Uh…”

“You can go, Soos.” Stan grumbled. “Not sure why I pay you if you're gonna go look for Spookums with the kids. Take the day off.”

Soos smiled. “Thanks, Mr. Pines! Hey, Dipper, wait up dude!” 

Stan sighed. There was going to be a lot of work to do before the Shack was ready to open again. He wondered if he should start looking through the classifieds, but didn't want to think about what would happen after the Summer.

“Good morning, Stanley.” 

Stan looked up to see Ford carrying a giant rolled up tube. It looked familiar, but it was covered in dust.

“Whatcha got there, Sixer?” 

“Oh, I was merely trying to retrieve any of my past experiments you carelessly threw out. After asking Dipper what happened to Experiment 78, I made my way to the dump. I still have a few trials for this project.”

“Huh. That looks like that hideous carpet in your room.” Stan noted. “I was doing you a favor, that thing’s an eyesore.”

“The design was optimized to provide a consistent electrical current for an even transfer. And at the time, it was very chic.” Ford huffed.

“I can assure you, Sixer,” Stan replied mockingly, “That turquoise and mustard monstrosity was never chic.”

Ford threw the carpet on the floor and unrolled it. “Maybe I will do a little redecorating, how about that? It's my house after all.” 

He looked at Stan, as their eyes met, Stan could see that smug look on Ford’s face. Stan furrowed his brows and scowled. 

“You better move it.” Stan ordered. 

“We’ll see.” Ford said. He squinted. “Has that light been flickering this whole time?” He pulled up the other chair and placed it on the carpet. 

“Take those boots off, you're not getting mud in my house.” Stan snapped. 

Ford frowned. “You mean my house. Very well, mother. I’ll humor you.” 

He undid his muddy boots, placing them on the plastic table, next to Stan's breakfast. Stan growled. 

Ford stepped onto the chair. He balanced himself, towering over Stan as he reached for the bulb, unscrewing it.

“I'll get some bulbs from the store later.” Stan declared,  flipping his paper disinterestedly. 

“No need, I have a prototype I've been meaning to try out that I invented in the Sconce Dimension.” Ford said, his chair wobbling back and forth.

“Will it make the room look any uglier?” Stan asked. He furtively looked back at Ford, who was sticking out his tongue in concentration. He stopped, pulling out a screwdriver.

“Hmm, this screw looks loose.” Ford said, adjusting the fixture. “At any rate, I doubt I'll make my house any worse than how you redecorated, Stanley. Even without my input, it looks like…what did you say? An eyesore?”

“Hey!” Stan shouted. “It's got character.”

Ford gave a hmph. He winced as he felt a spark run up his fingertip and snapped his hand back. He placed index finger in his mouth to reduce the pain, only to see Stan staring at him. He put it back down in the pocket of his jacket. “It's no matter, I'll fix this after you leave.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Yeah? You can keep your cruddy lights. And the house. I put in the work to keep this place afloat after you defaulted on the mortgage. I can take Mr. Mystery on the road. Been meaning to start over anyway.”

“Oh? Care to enlighten me, Stanley. What's so special about Mr. Mystery?” Ford asked. “He's a charlatan and a joke.”

Stan rolled up the newspaper, lifting it above his head. “Do you want a piece of me?”

Ford jumped down from the chair, striking a fighting pose.

“Oh, d’you know Kung Fu now too, Sixer?” Stan scoffed. 

“No, I learned the art of defensive fighting from the Dalbraxian system that incorporates strength, mental discipline and…”

“Got it.” Stan charged at Ford, tackling him to the ground. Ford struggled as Stan climbed on top of him, hitting him with the rolled up newspaper. 

Ford shoved him, taking the paper out of his hand and throwing it to the side. He pushed Stan to the ground as they rolled on the shag carpet. Ford kneed Stan in the stomach as Stan snarled, pulling Ford’s hair. Stan felt Ford grab his hands, trying to restrain him as they kicked each other, Ford swinging his left leg to one side, his right across the other, straddling over Stan as he pushed Stan onto his stomach, his hand pressing Stan’s face into the carpet. Stan writhed underneath him, the heat of their movement warming the fibers as sparks started to zap through the thread. Ford clamped his thighs tighter against Stan’s body, trying to maintain his grip as Stan squirmed ferociously. 

“You got something to say, Stanley?” Ford asked through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, bite me!”

Stan wriggled out of Ford’s grasp, his wrists free as he rolled back onto his stomach, grabbing Ford into a headlock. Ford pushed against him, both of their legs kicking the air as they rubbed against the carpet, shouting like they were kids. Ford reached out his free arm, trying to slap Stan and toppling over his fez. Stan noticed, reaching for it with his own free hand, but it was out of reach, brushing against the carpet. Ford made one last push, freeing himself from the headlock, making one last move to pin Stan’s wrists again. He reached forward for Stan’s wrist, but missed. He felt his fingertip brush against Stan’s and felt a brief, painful surge of static shock. 

Ford blinked. Stan blinked. Stan was surprised to see him back on top again, and looking back down at…Stan?

 Stan screamed, as his own face looked back at him in annoyance. He took off his glasses (his glasses) and pinched his nose. 

“I should have expected this might happen. Please stop screaming, Stanley. It seems we’ve created a temporary electron transfer.”

Ugh, it was his voice, but it had Sixer’s intonation. 

“You mean you knew this freaky friday shi…shenanigans could happen and you didn't warn me?” Stan shouted. He moved away from himself and grabbed the table for support, standing up. It was like Wax Stan all over again. His center of gravity was off. It seems Ford had a hard time standing up from the added bulk and the back pain. Stan could hear him groan and knew what that was. 

“It's only a temporary problem. We just need to touch each other once more, and we will switch back.” 

“You mean I'm currently Stanford Pines. For real this time.” Stan noted.

“No, you're still Stanley, but in my body.” Ford replied in irritation, holding his hands behind his back and staring him down.

“I doubt body switching holds up in court if you're trying to throw me out. You're not taking me alive!” Stan shouted, his voice cracking through Ford’s deep timbre.

Stan ran towards the door, grabbing his car keys. He was surprised how fast he could run in Ford’s body. He almost made it, until he was tackled back onto the floor. The weight of Stan's body hitting him like a boulder. 

Stan pushed Ford, only for Ford climb on top of him and restrain him. Ford pinched him on his abdomen, as Stan doubled over in pain.

“Ah!” Stan yelped. “What was that?”

“Got trapped in an organ harvesting farm during my travels. They regrew, but the incision mark never healed properly.” Ford replied neutrally.

Stan gave a low whistle. “Been there.”

Ford looked at him curiously, then shook his head. “Why did you try to hijack my body, Stanley?”

“What can I say? I'm not good with confrontation.”

“That's putting it mildly.” Ford muttered. 

Stan paused. He felt suffocated underneath all the layers of clothing Ford wore. “Why didn't you thank me?” 

Ford rolled his eyes. “Not this again. Why should I thank you, Stanley? Why should I be beholden to something I didn't ask for?”

“You did though!” Stan retorted. “You asked me to do something, remember? When you got sucked in that…thing!”

“Honestly, Stan, it was such a blur I don't remember anything of what I said.”

“Well, I do.” Stan declared. “It's all I could think of, all these years. You, telling me to do something. So I did. I thought about it every day for thirty years.”

“You didn't do it for me, you did it for your guilt.” Ford replied. 

“It's one and the same.” Stan said bitterly. “You know, I imagined these past few days going differently. I thought maybe we could patch things up, put it behind us. That's what's kept me going, you know? Not the money, or fame. All this time, I was doing this for you.”

Ford softened. It was bizarre seeing his own face contort in that way Sixer’s did when he was embarrased. 

“Stanley…” Ford said. He paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “I never stopped thinking of you. I can't expect you to understand me, I know I certainly don't understand you. But, I guess I can see where you're coming from.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, I…Stan, even in my darkest moments. No matter how much I wanted to push you away, I couldn't. I wanted to hate you for what you did, but I never could. I…oh, I don't know!” Ford cried out in frustration. “I just don't know what I feel anymore.”

Stan looked at his brother, then examined his six fingers, wiggling them. 

“You know, I always used to wonder what it’d feel like, having six fingers like you. If it felt any different being special.”

“And?” Ford asked.

“It feels no different than my own.” Stan replied, giving him a smile. “High Six?” 

Ford smiled back. “High Six.” 

Their hands clapped together, and nothing happened. Ford laced his fingers through Stan’s hand, as they held on.

“Hmm. the static should have sent us back into our own bodies by now, but it didn't.” Ford noted, rubbing his free hand on his chin.

“So what do we do now?” Stan asked. He enjoyed the feeling of closeness as he gripped Ford’s hand against his.

“We will need to go back to the carpet. If we try creating more friction by moving our bodies against each other, we’ll be able to create more static.” Ford suggested, pointing his finger in the air for emphasis. 

Stan chuckled. “Buy a guy dinner first, will ya?”

Ford looked at him in amusement. “We both know you're too cheap a date for that.”

Stan rubbed his thumb across Ford’s. He could see his brother shiver. “You know, if you wanted to fool around, you could've just asked.”

Ford leaned over. He rested his forehead against Stan’s, then went in for a kiss. They winced as they felt a spark shoot through them. When they opened their eyes, Stan could see he was back in his body, holding Ford’s hand. Ford noticed, hastily letting go. He coughed, looking away. 

“Well, it looks like that is resolved. Good work, Stanley.”

Stan bent down, and picked up his fez, putting it back on his head. “The kids won't be back for a few hours. Do you still want to uh, experiment some more?”

Ford looked at him curiously, then gave him a grin as he pulled out his journal from his coat. 

“I don't see why not, for science, of course.”

Day 163

What if Ford’s and Stan’s fight happened in Ford’s bedroom and they switched bodies?

Submitted by @fefe-the-cat

[alloftheimagines]

abby anderson | smoke & tears, part ii

masterlist | part i

words: 3.6k warnings: 18+. mentions of violence, trauma, injury, hints towards physical & sexual abuse, post santa barbara!abby x firefly!reader, guilt, whump, hurt/comfort, so much angst but with a hopeful ending, jealous!abby, a man (gross),i think that's it synopsis: After Abby hurts you during a nightmare, the two of you head back to base &, with a little push from our good friend jealousy, long suppressed feelings are finally revealed. 

Abby holds back as you approach the Firefly base after days of hunting for supplies. Days of pretending the bruises on your neck aren’t there. Since her nightmare, she’s been more withdrawn than ever, try as you have to remind her that you’re okay. You’ve kept the marks hidden as best you can, but they’ve turned from a pale yellow to a faded purple, and the shadows lining the edge of your jacket collar are impossible to cover in your current clothes. 

Now, she curls her hands tight around the straps of her backpack, and you turn, confused. “You okay?”

“They’re gonna…” A gulp. “They’ll see.”

You soften, reaching for her hand, but she’s quick to pull away, as though the very idea of touching you sickens her. It makes you ache. You thought after the night she’d spent sifting through your hair and tracing the lines of your face, you might have gotten somewhere, but the opposite has happened. When you woke the next day, her eyes only ever snagged on your bruises, never your face, and the conversation has been stilted, as though she can’t bear your presence at all. 

She hates you, or hates what she’s done to you: right now, those seem one and the same. 

“I’ll tell them it was raiders,” you promise. “They don’t need to know.”

Abby scoffs, pushes ahead with a rough shoulder that almost sends you stumbling. “Don’t lie for me. They should know.”

“Abby—”

But she’s already disappearing through the opening gates, leaving you to trail behind. Your heart is sore, and you wonder if any hope of connecting with her has finally been dashed. If that quiet, timid thing between you was destroyed before it could bloom. 

When Lev greets her at the entrance, she doesn’t light up as usual, trampling right by him to hand over her loot and then marching away. 

Gone. Like everything you said that night meant nothing. 

Like there is nothing on this earth you can say to make her forgive herself. 

***

Abby keeps her head down as she collects her food in the cafeteria with Lev. Her legs are tired from days of walking, but her stomach and heart is worse. She’s been… disoriented since the nightmare. She doesn’t know when this one became different: when she was dreaming of dirty hands all over her body, or if it was the after, the hurting you, that has left her scars open and bleeding again.

Her mood is affecting Lev, and she hates that, but she still feels like a livewire. Dangerous. Not in control. 

It gets worse when you sit down opposite her, mostly because, when you talk to Lev, he becomes this sweet, carefree kid who’s never had to worry. You bring out the light in him, even after seeing the darkness in her. 

“Did you guys run into many Infected this time?” he asks, wide-eyed. Always concerned for Abby, always asking her to let someone else go. It isn’t in her nature to hide from patrols and supply runs, and as soon as you volunteered, she was there, knowing the other option would be that asshole doctor who keeps trying to catch your attention. Luke, he’s called, always hovering around you like a bad smell.

Including now. As you tell Lev no, there were only a few Clickers you managed to avoid for the most part, Luke sits down, leaving the flimsy cafeteria table rattling. 

“Hey. I see you got back in one piece,” he says, only to you. Abby’s potatoes begin to taste acidic in her mouth. There’s something about him she doesn’t like. Something that definitely isn’t jealousy. She doesn’t think. Even if Lev is inclined to argue otherwise.

“Yeah, it went pretty seamlessly.” Your smile is forced, and when you flinch against his outstretched hand, she wonders if it’s because you don’t like him, or because you’re still rattled from what she did to you. 

If Luke catches on, he doesn’t show it, grabbing your neck as though he’s entitled to it. It makes Abby’s fingers curl in her palms, but she has no right to defend you. You’re capable of doing that yourself, but never have. 

“Holy shit,” Luke whispers. “Someone had you in a chokehold. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You pull away, pretending to be interested in a pea rolling off your tray. 

“Why didn’t you come to the infirmary?”

“Because it’s a bruise, not worth any supplies or time. Doesn’t even hurt.”

If your voice wasn’t still hoarse, it might have been more believable. Abby keeps her head down, heart leaping erratically. She still feels that memory pressing in on her. The confusion as she woke not in her bed roll, but on top of you, your sinew and softness crunching beneath her knee and hands. The wide panic in your eyes. The shudders that rolled through you like after shocks. 

There are thousands of people she could hurt without blinking, without caring, but you? God, she never wanted to hurt you. And it’s worse, somehow, that you forgave her without question. She deserves to be hated. Deserves to be yelled at, maybe even thrown out. The only reason she hasn’t turned herself in is because she knows Lev would go with her, and she won’t ever let him roam without community again. This is the safest the two of them have ever been, and she intends to make it last. She might not be able to let go of the past, but he can. He will. 

“You could have damaged your oesophagus,” Luke continues, pressing the bruise. You wince. “Who did this to you? Must have been a powerhouse.”

Your eyes fall to her, then dart away again just as quickly — but it doesn’t matter. Luke sees it. Looks at Abby like she’s scum on his shoe, which to be fair, isn’t a change from usual. Not every Firefly gave her a warm welcome when they showed up emaciated and traumatised last year. She didn’t tell them who her father was, because that version of her was long gone. 

“Did she do this?” There’s a warning in Luke’s voice. 

Lev looks at Abby, a question in his gaze. She avoids it. 

You’re quick to huff, “No, Jesus Christ, Luke. We ran into raiders. That’s all.”

He relaxes, hand smoothing an errant curl from your face. You don’t move, frozen with your cutlery suspended in midair. 

“Come to my room later. I’ll check it out properly. Give you something for the bruising.”

Yeah, Abby bets he fucking will. She stands up, sending the plates clattering again when her thick thighs hit the bench. She doesn’t want to hear anymore about how he’ll take care of you in a way she can’t.

And she certainly doesn’t want to keep hearing you defend her like she deserves it. 

Later, Lev will try to sleep in her room. She will say no. Never again. She refuses to hurt another person she loves.

***

Abby doesn’t mean to find a spot to sit so close to his room. It’s just the only place where nightwatch won’t bother her, and there’s a balcony that overlooks the sea beyond base. She never goes too close, the taste of sea salt bringing her back to being tied to the pillar, left to dry out and die. The lapping of waves reminds her of Ellie, having her head dunked under water as she wondered whether this would be the time she finally lost. The Rattlers had taken any strength that might have ended that fight. All that was left was a pure, desperate drive to get Lev away. 

You probably don’t remember, but you were the first kind face she saw after. She journeyed through city ruins swarming with Infected and stealthily led the way through the camps of militia she didn’t trust, but the first smile she saw after Santa Barbara was yours. 

And she has been clinging to it like a lifeline since. 

Your face is behind her lids again, afraid as you look up at her after she'd leapt back in shock. Sorrowful, too, because your empathy is a well that never runs dry. She saw it first when she arrived with Lev, how you would visit her every day for weeks to make sure she was eating (she wasn’t) and sleeping (never again), your voice hushed like you knew she’d had enough rough yells and deadly screeches to last a lifetime. 

Like you knew. You didn’t try to touch her like the others. You never forced her. You lured her out of her shell slowly, sitting in silence with her some days. It was Lev you won over first. His trust in you made her want to trust, too. 

She never deserved all that time and patience and care. 

She squeezes her eyes closed, tugging at her hair until her scalp stings. She has hated herself often, but never like this. She doesn’t know how to keep going, knowing falling asleep could end in someone else’s death. What if she was paired with someone else on patrol? Someone who would sooner her shoot her in her fucking face than tell her it’s okay, she’s okay, she didn’t mean to hurt them. 

A door behind her creaks open and shut. Her back prickles with the feeling of being watched, and she holds tighter to the cold metal railings of the balcony when she recognises your light footsteps. Walk on by, she begs silently. Don’t fucking talk to me anymore. Hate me like I hate me.

But if she really wanted that, she wouldn’t have come to this corner of base. Her jealousy, it turns out, is just a tad stronger than her self-loathing. And she doesn’t trust that asshole anymore than she trusts herself, so maybe she just has to make sure you get out okay. 

She turns around, bile rising in her throat when she sees that your boots are in your hands instead of on your feet. One of your vest straps has fallen, too. 

“Hey,” you greet softly. “I thought you’d be spending time with Lev.”

“I don’t trust myself around him,” she says through gritted teeth. “Doctor Luke was very thorough with his check-up, huh?”

You sigh and place your boots down to stand beside her. She’s not sure if it’s the cool breeze of the night or your presence that sends goosebumps up her arms. “He saw the other bruises on my chest. Wanted to make sure.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

You frown. “I didn’t tell him, Abby. I told you already. And if you want to bunk somewhere else tonight, you know I wouldn’t mind sharing my room.”

“That’s a joke, right? You’re not actually that stupid?” She doesn’t know why she’s suddenly so fucking angry, only that she’s imagining Luke’s hands all over you, greedy where hers were biting, and it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that her twisted subconscious has ruined any chance she might have had to…

To what? She’s never let herself get too close. Never will. Has something really been taken from her, or is it just that she wishes she could be someone like Luke? Someone who you could be with, peacefully, and it would make sense. Someone who can take care of you and the fucking bruises she left. 

Maybe the ones she’s leaving now, because your recoil like that word, stupid, is a bullet. “I trust you. I know not to touch you when you’re sleeping, now. It won’t happen again.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that if it did, we’d handle it.” 

You try to take her hand, but again, she refuses it. Always refusing it. 

Tears glisten in your eyes, reflecting the full moon’s light. “I care about you, Abby, but I can’t pull you out of whatever anger this is. I want to. I really fucking want to. But…” You rub your face. “But I’m tired and I don’t know what I can do.”

“Why are you so fucking desperate to fix me?” She throws out her arms. “Maybe there is nothing you can do. Maybe the best option is to go back in there and tell your boyfriend that I’m a fucking liability.”

Another flinch as you look at her, perplexed. “He’s not my boyfriend, and you’re not a fucking liability, Abby. Do you honestly think that nobody else on this base is a little damaged? We’ve all survived something. I’ve survived something.” 

Her nostrils flare as she digs her elbows back into the railing. She can’t bear to think of what you might have endured.

You deserve more than this world has given you is what you told her that night. If that’s true of her, it’s devastatingly, triply true for you. You are good. You are kind. You are strong. She’s just a few fragments held together by shitty glue wrapped up in muscles that no longer feel like hers.

“I think that you want me to punish you, still,” you say finally, quietly. “I’m not going to. For Lev’s sake if not for your own, you should stop punishing yourself, too.”

She scoffs. “Right. Did you read that in one of Doctor Luke’s therapy books?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snap finally. “What are you trying to do? Imply that I’m, what, sleeping with him?”

“Are you?” she can’t help but retort, because all she sees is that damn strap curled around your bicep instead of on your shoulder. 

“Why? Would it help if you knew the woman you strangled was a bit of a slut? Would I maybe deserve it if I was fucking our resident jackass?” 

Abby is finally rendered speechless. Her face slackens, life draining from her. She’s so fucking awful, and this? This is worse than hurting you physically. The crumpled expression on your face isn’t something she ever wants to cause again. 

“I’m done, Abby. I don’t know what you want from me, but if it’s to hate you, I might be capable of that after tonight.”

Abby feels her insides shatter. You walk away, disappearing down the hall. And if she was better, she’d let you go. That way, you’d be safe, and she wouldn’t have to keep feeling like this. 

But she’s not better. She’s just yours. So she chases you, calling your name. You keep your chin jutted high as you take the stairs, Abby skipping after you. 

“Please, just stop,” she begs.

There are tears rolling down your cheeks that she put there, and she can’t let them keep falling. Not if there’s a way to stop them. 

You’re almost at your door when she says: “You’ve saved me a thousand times." 

You stop, hand on the handle. A “What?” flutters out of you, wispy, barely there. 

“From the minute we got here, you saved me from myself. Over and over. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve to be anywhere fucking near you, not before and definitely not now.”

It’s like you haven’t heard, and her stomach drops — she never knew it could just keep dropping, never finding a bottom — when you unlock your door. 

Only you nudge it open and motion for her to step inside. 

She does, into your darkness.

You flick the light switch on, a dim, flickering thing that runs on the base’s solar panels like every other appliance in this place. She’s never seen your room before: it’s bigger than hers and Lev’s, but not by much. Your patrol clothes haven’t made it to the laundry basket yet and there’s a book strewn open on your desk, one that surprises her with its flowery title. 

Your bed is rumpled, lived in, and everything smells like you. Like baked cinnamon and rain and soil. Like peace. 

She’s just the looming beast threatening to disrupt it all. 

“You gonna keep talking?” you ask. “Because I don’t really know what you’re trying to tell me.”

“I was being an asshole because I hate myself,” she says. “But also because I don’t like the way Luke looks at you, touches you, like he has a right to. You flinch sometimes.”

“He isn’t great with boundaries, but he isn’t dangerous, and he wouldn’t do it to you. You don’t need to worry.”

“I’m not worried about me.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, because you still don’t get it. “It’s you. You and Lev, you’re all I care about. I thought the Fireflies would be the thing that saved me, but what happened to me in Santa Barbara rewrote everything I wanted and needed. And I get here, broken and lost and fighting like hell to find Lev a real home, and there you are. You’re… You’re beautiful, and you know what I need without asking, and you make me feel like I can breathe.”

“Abby…” You’re crying again. So is she. 

“So when I hurt you, it’s like destroying the last thing that was good about me,” she says, voice small. “And when I see you with him, I think maybe it makes sense, and I fucking hate that, because he’s no good, and you deserve someone who will love you the way you want to be loved, not the way he wants you to be, with his greedy fucking hands and superiority complex. But he’s still the better option, because I fucking hurt you, and what's worse, I had no control over it, which makes me even more dangerous.”

Minutes pass in silence. She doesn’t know how to pull you out of whatever thoughts you’re having. Doesn’t know if she should just leave, only you’re blocking the door anyway, so she can’t.

“Abby, Luke isn’t the better option," you decide on. "He isn’t even an option. I don’t like him that way.”

“Okay.” It’s a relief, one she isn’t sure she’s allowed to feel. 

But then you go to her, cupping her face in your hands the way you did nights before — not without a look of asking, palms landing gently in case she doesn’t want them there.

She always wants them there. 

“You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit,” you say. “Nobody should have endured what you did. The good in you was there long before me, and it’ll be there long after.”

“Don’t.” God, she doesn't want to think about an after. She doesn’t want to outlast you the way she did Yara, Owen, Mel, Nora. Her dad.

“I didn’t… I didn’t even know you felt that way,” you admit. “I just saw something in you that’s also in me, and I wanted to be there. You deserved someone to be there.” 

“You don’t know what it meant. I haven’t been able to say it.” But now, the alternative is losing you, and she won’t do that. So she will bear her soul, even if it’s rotten, even if it hurts. “I just…”

“What, love?” You gently brush her hair from her eyes, always that one strand trying to escape its braid. She thinks that if it means you touching her like this, she might keep letting it.

“I’m just so fucking sorry,” she says, and crumbles. You wrap your arms around her tight, catch her tears with your shoulder, and this is who she was before — not before Santa Barbara, but before everything. Before she lost her dad. Before her path of revenge and fighting was set. When she was just a child, and she was allowed to cry. Allowed to be sad and broken, because there would always be someone to sit with her through it. 

Like there is now. 

And she only realises then that it’s the first time she’s let someone hug her since the Rattlers. The first time her body hasn’t tried to leap from its skin at the sensation. She is safe. Your touch is not like theirs. 

When you pull away, she rests her forehead against yours. You wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Do you think maybe you can lie next to me for a while? I’m just… I’m so tired. And I don’t want you to leave yet. You don't have to get close, or even... You don't have to.”

It terrifies her to let herself get near enough to hurt again, but she already knows she won’t fall asleep, not when there’s you to look at, so she peels back your duvet, blushing when you slip off your jeans to get comfortable. Your underwear is basically shorts, but it’s still as bare as she’s ever seen you and it’s impossible not to want more. 

She might never be ready for that, but it doesn’t stop her from imagining. She kicks off her boots — something she rarely does, always afraid she might need to hop into action in a moment’s notice, but tonight, she is changing. She slides in beside you, and you nuzzle against your pillow, all tears and pink splotches and softness. 

She can admit to herself, then, that she’s in love with you. Might always have been. She doesn't think she’ll ever deserve to say it out loud, but she’ll try. Even if it means she never gets to fall asleep beside you, even if she has to leave as soon as her lids grow heavy. 

When she’s away and you’re here, that violence is so far out of reach, she can barely remember it’s taste. 

You look up at her out of groggy eyes, and she plays with your hair. “Sleep, sweetheart.”

“I don’t want to,” you admit. “You’ll be gone when I wake up.”

“There’s always tomorrow. Not going anywhere, okay?”

Your hands intertwine atop the duvet, rough callouses chafing from years of fighting too hard. Years of losing. 

But there’s none of that tonight. The world is calm, and by some miracle, so is Abby, able to go on even when she doesn’t want to because you’re here, walking with her. Holding her damn hand. 

She’s afraid she might never let go.

[lush-escape]

Please Stay

Based off of this prompt

wc: 843

You can't even remember what the fight was about now. Something, you think, about how you were going to lose your mind if Jason didn't stop staining your carpet with blood - even if he did pay to have it professionally cleaned. It was something stupid and small but filled up pent up stress they both of you had been holding in for weeks instead of talking about like you usually did.

But between work, Jason's patrols - and how he was getting hurt more often, school pick up and drop off along with sports and practices, there was next to no time to actually sit and talk. And while you were normally so careful about not arguing in front of your daughter, this time she caught the tail end of it.

The tail end where Jason told you he needed to blow off some steam before talking to your “dramatic ass” before leaving the house for the rest of the night. And even though the two of you have since made up she was still moody, short with her responses and quick to anger.

It was a quiet morning with Jason waking up before everyone else in the house to make breakfast.

“Morning,” Jason flips a pancake without looking over his shoulder, recognizing your daughter's footsteps as she enters the kitchen. She doesn't respond.

“I'm makin’ pancakes, want any before school? I put chocolate chips in ‘em the way you like.”

“No. I'm not six anymore, Jason. I don't want chocolate chip pancakes.” Her response was short, voice tight but filled with that teenage attitude.

Jason stiffens for a split second before turning the stove off, turning to face her. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares her down as she grabs a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Alright. What's your deal?” He wasn't one to beat around the bush.

“I don't have a deal.” But she refuses to look at him.

“Obviously you do. You've been giving us attitude for days now.”

“I don't have an attitude! There's no attitude!” Her voice grows in anger. She's turning to face him now with a scowl on her face.

“Oh, bullshit.” He scoffs with a bitter laugh.

“You've been walking around the house like no one else exists. Giving your mom so much grief she's about to rip out her hair, giving me enough sass to put me back in my grave.” He's beginning to pace between the stove and the kitchen island.

“I mean - Jesus, kid, what do you want from me?” Jason's at his wits end, he's throwing his hands up in defeat, the exasperation drips in his voice.

That's her breaking point.

“I want you to stay!” Her eyes are wet and her voice cracks on that last word as her tone raises to meet Jason's.

Jason stops his pacing, his hands on his hips, and he turns to face her. His expression is still firm, guarded, but there's a softness to it now.

“Stay? What do you even mean?” He asks. The thought of leaving is so foreign, so asinine, to Jason that he doesn't even see it as a possibility.

Your daughter sniffles and Jason's heart breaks at the sight of her crying. He softens even more as the anger visibly deflates from his shoulders.

“I mean stay.” She repeats. She sounds like a little kid, the same way she did when Jason first met her. Small, innocent, fragile. Not the strong, fierce, stubborn teenager that she's grown into over the years.

“I don't-” she wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “I don't want you to leave like my dad did.”

And then he finally understands. She's convinced herself that he's going to leave - walk away like her dad - just because the two of you had a fight and he took off for a few hours.

He understood too well.

“Kid…” his voice is so soft and gentle, like he's trying to soothe a scared animal. “You think I'm gonna leave you and Mom just ‘cause we had a fight?”

“You left-” she sniffles again.

“I left to get some air before Mom whooped my ass for staining her carpet again,” Jason tries to joke but it falls flat. “We both needed space.” He walks toward her and puts his hands on her shoulders.

“Look at me.”

She does with tears in her eyes. Jason pulls her into a firm hug, protective and warm.

“‘m not leaving you. Ever. You or Mom. Got it?” He whispers against the top of her head. She nods frantically, crying into his soft cotton shirt that she's holding onto for dear life.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He rubs a hand over her back before pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

The two stand in the middle of the kitchen hugging until she finally calms down enough to pull back and look up at Jason, broken and fragile and scared but full of love and trust for her dad.

“Now, how ‘bout some chocolate chip pancakes?” He asks with a soft smile.

[x-prettyboy-x]

Can we have a fanfic of Erik with a goth girlfriend, maybe? The two stay inside together and just have a comfy day with each other.

Beautiful Darkness

You absolutely can🫶🏻 but be warned I know nothing about the goth scene, Ive always just been a emo/alternative person so forgive me if its not 100% accurate. Also this is short as fuck, my apologies, my lack of creativity really failed me on this one

Pairing: Erik Campbell x Goth!Fem Reader

Contents: You and Erik arguing over what movie to watch, Erik loving to watch you do your makeup.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, but its in a movie, and its grave encounters so.. yay Alex Wright🎉

Wc; 772

Masterlist

Erik had been dumbfounded the first time you walked into the tattoo shop, dark over exaggerated eyeliner, and a black lip over a paper white base. All black in a leather corset and lace skirts, platformed boots to match.

You'd had to repeat yourself when he didn't hear you the first time, the man just dumbfounded by the wonder that was.. you.

"I'm sorry.. what?" He'd asked softly, you smiled.

"I was hoping to get my tongue pierced?".

He had quickly apologized and fumbled for the paper work, handing it over to you with shaky hands.

That was a little over a year ago, and several piercings and tattoos(that definitely weren't just an excuse to see him) later, and a few dates, you guys had made things official. And you both couldn't be happier.

Erik had fallen into the routine for when you guys were gonna go out, he'd get ready in 10 minutes then sit with you for 30 minutes to an hour while you applied your makeup and tried to decide on an outfit.

Not that he minded, he loved watching the process. He'd even let you put eyeliner on him once or twice, staring up at you while you sit in his lap focused on your craft while he held you close with his hands on your waist.

And he had more photos in his phone of you doing your makeup than he could count.

But today, neither of you felt like doing much of anything. So that's how you ended up here, sitting on the couch with snacks thrown about the coffee table while you argued over what movie to watch,

"Like I said, scream! It fits perfectly with what we both wanna watch!"

"Baby.. we watch Scream like once a week. I love Billy Loomis as much as the next guy, but cmon. Grave Encounters 2 would be perfect!"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, "No! I hate that movie, Alex is a prick and the entire movie is so shit."

Erik put a hand over his chest as if you had just cursed his entire family line with that one sentence.

"You take that back! That movie is a master piece and Alex is a visionary, he can be a prick if he wants."

-

Eriks movie pick ultimately won, Erik arguing it was only fair since you've made him watch Scream at least 25 times, and you've only watched Grave Encounters once.

Erik was sat back against the couch, one arm laid across the back of the couch and the other playing with your hair where your head laid in his lap.

"See? This is what I'm talking about. All his friends are begging to leave and he's more worried about being in debt because of those stupid cameras." You complained, already beyond annoyed.

"Well yeah? I wouldnt wanna be in debt for that shit either." Erik tried to defend his beloved character, but it just earned him a quiet laugh.

"I hate to break it to you baby, but he's already deep in debt. He's a college student."

Erik rolled his eyes and playfully covered your mouth.

"Shh.. Just watch the movie."

-

It only took another 30 minutes before you were completely over it, bringing your entire makeup bag into the living room and sitting on the floor to do your makeup while he finished his movie.

You glanced up at the screen just as you finished the white base for your makeup, seeing Alex's final descent into madness as he beat his girlfriend to death with his camera.

You hummed under your breath and focused on your mirror again, starting your eyeliner.

"I damn sure wouldn't have stood there while you talked about killing me, that girl is beyond dumb."

Erik sighed in defeat, pulling his attention away from the tv screen to look at you with a small smile.

"Alright, fine. I'll give you that, she is dumb. But that kill shot was bad ass, you gotta give me that at least."

"Yeah, that might have been the best scene of the entire movie. That and his little.. 'Theres nothing there' with that smirk at the end. He kinda looks like you when he does that."

"Oh fuck off, he does not. You're just saying that to make me happy." Erik laughed, watching intently as you finished your eyeliner on one eye.

"No, I'm serious. He has the same eye color as you, and when he smirks? That's all you, baby."

"And here I thought you hated Alex."

"Hey, I said he was a prick. I did not say he was bad looking."

[mifvyfilms]

── .✦ SHINJI, SHUNSUI, URAHARA: your baby .ᐟ

(a/n): not a big fan on how i wrote this bc i was lwk half awake but i hope you like it (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )♡

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ IN WHICH, you’re a little cranky… but that’s just ‘cause you’re pregnant—and you have to break the news to them .

⊹ fluff ᝰ shinji, shunsui, urahara x fem! reader

──────── ୨୧ ────────

SHINJI HIRAKO ᝰ.ᐟ

── "HAHHH? why are you so mad today?" he cocked his head, studying your expression. he reached out to pinch your cheek, stretching it playfully, but you swatted his hand away.

"shut up, shinji. your voice annoying." you plopped down on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking under your weight, and rested one hand on your forehead and the other on your stomach. "you’re making me nauseous."

the blond's smile faded into a frown. "why? what did i do to make you so upset?”

"…i’m pregnant," you blurted out, the words just tumbling out unexpectedly. at first, a smile started to spread across his face when he heard the news.

"oh? since when did you make jokes when you’re mad?" a sly smirk played on his lips as he tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear.

you shook your head. "i’m not lying. you’re going to be a dad."

his eyebrows shot up. "and that's why you're so angry...?"

"mood swings, maybe." you sighed, leaning back against the bed. "i’m just nervous."

shinji stretched out on the bed next to you and gently rubbed your stomach. "want me to cook some food for you?"

"i’m not really feeling hungry," you replied.

"good, because i didn't feel like cooking anyway—"

you gathered the last of your strength and smacked him upside the head before drifting off to sleep.

TWO YEARS LATER

“SHINJI! why are you holding our son upside down?!”

“i’m welcoming him to the inverted world.”

SHUNSUI KYORAKU ᝰ.ᐟ

── "WOAH, WOAH, WOAH, well aren’t you worked up today?” shunsui had to hold your hair back as you leaned over the toilet, throwing up.

it had been a few days since you started acting this way—and you finally figured out the reason. you were pregnant. with his child.

"tell me what's wrong." he kept his voice steady and calm while you felt like you were emptying your entire stomach. "did ichimaru pull some prank on you? or did kurotsuchi ask to run tests on you?"

you sighed, finally done throwing up. "i took a pregnancy test the other night."

his eyebrows shot up. "is this going where i think it's going?"

"if you think i’m pregnant, then yeah."

he helped you stand up, your body weak, and guided you to the bed.

"wow, i’m a dad now? i wonder how yamamoto will react when he finds out i’m going to be a dad," shunsui mused, grabbing a few pillows to help make you feel comfortable.

you chuckled softly. "you’ll always be a baby in his eyes."

"well, you're about to have one now."

"WE are.” you corrected.

EIGHT YEARS LATER

“(nameeeeee), she’s complaining that i braided her hair wrong.”

“it’s not supposed to look like an ice cream swirl, shunsui!”

URAHARA KISUKE ᝰ.ᐟ

── "I’M PREGNANT," you announced unexpectedly.

urahara blinked before giggling and changing the subject. "haha, funny joke, (name)! now, what were we saying before?"

"i’m being for real, kisuke," you whispered, fidgeting with your fingers. you didn't know what to expect—especially, his reaction.

he fanned himself with the fan in his hand. "come again?"

you facepalmed. "i said, i’m pregnant, kisuke."

"and it's mine?" he muttered. he then noticed your grumpy expression after he had said that. "I'M GONNA BE A DAD?!" he shrieked, unsure of how to react.

he would've jumped on you, but now that there's a baby growing in your stomach, he couldn't. instead, he gently rested his head on top of your belly.

"this little guy will ruin our cuddling nights," he complained jokingly. you leaned your back against the couch and ruffled urahara’s hair, now that he was on your lap.

"i have a feeling you're going to be a bad father…" you mumbled, and he caught that.

"no, i won't!”

SIX YEARS LATER

“okay son! go tell your mom that your dad is the better parent!”

──────── ୨୧ ────────

© MIFVYFILMS ( pls don’t copy my works, repost it as your own, or translate ) MASTERLIST

[luvyuuma]

Omg can u do “you put your arm around me and I felt my knees buckle it’s pathetic” with maki x reader. But the reader isn’t like the most physically affectionate person

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hiii! here it is <3

SYNOPSIS / in which you miss maki a little too much during exam times.

TW / none! just fluff

WC / 0.6k words

PAIRING / maki x gn!reader

Maki + "You put your arm around me and I felt my knees buckle, it’s pathetic"

Maki knew you weren’t physically affectionate when you started dating. It was something you warned him about when entering your relationship. You let him know that you liked that he was but oftentimes, didn’t know how to react to it. Growing up, you didn’t like doing it. It was not how you responded in the face of love. You did it through other ways—gift-giving, acts of service and words of affirmation. Touch isn’t your go to. So when Maki constantly had his arms around you, holding your hand, grabbing your waist, you short-circuited often. It’d give him an ego boost knowing he made you feel that way just from the tip of his fingers but he wishes you’d initiate more.

The day came sooner than expected.

Finals are here. 

You’re studying for your exams, barely seeing each other. One thing about you, you were locked into your studies. When that happens, no one can distract you from the grind. Procrastination fears you even.

You were trying to concentrate during a late night study session. You had two more exams next week, both your hardest subjects. Concentration is a must! However, you couldn’t. 

No amount of energy drinks, aesthetic notes and practice questions could stir your mind from Maki. Not seeing your boyfriend swallowed you whole into a deep darkness. And Maki, he’s a walking light. A light you turned off.

You couldn’t do this.

You reach for your phone.

A lapse of judgement passes you. 

What if he’s busy? What if he doesn’t want to see you?

His smile passes your mind, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of hearing your voice. Pressing call, you place the phone at your ear, humming to the ringing sound. It’s funny how quick you forgot about your two exams.

Who cares?

You could take one night away from practice questions to see your boyfriend.

“Hey,” Maki picks up. “I was gonna call you when I finished studying for the day.”

“I miss you,” you say instantly. You barely let his words process. “Come over.”

“Woah.”

“Not like that,” you reply, in amusement. “I wanna see you.”

“Man, fuck these practice questions. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

He didn’t take fifteen minutes. It must’ve been seven at the most. 

Maki is knocking at your door in no time.

The moment you open the door, you want to collapse. Your arms instinctively wrap around his shoulders, squeezing him tight as if he was going to disappear into thin air. You couldn’t let that happen, could you?

Spreading kisses all over his face, you pull him into your apartment and then, pushed him against the door so it would close.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” you ask, pulling back in question.

“You put your arm around me and I felt my knees buckle!” he exclaims. His voice tones down a few octaves. He takes in your stressed state—glasses on your head, loose strands of hair and baggy clothes. Maki brushes the hair out of your face and holds your cheek, “It’s pathetic. How you make me feel.”

“Yeah?” you ask.

“Mhm. I missed you too, by the way.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“I didn’t know you were a big hugger,” he points out teasingly as he holds your waist.

You hit him on his chest, “Shut up. I’ll take it back.”

“No, don’t. Don’t ever do that.”