#all i ask is even fucking pity level of comfort

[ooffmlsorry]

OP Men When You're Injured

Context: I don't mean mortally injured, I'm talking something not too serious that kind of inhibits your movement like a broken bone or recovery from a surgery

Law, Kid, Ace, Luffy, Zoro, Sanji

Law

A/N: can we get a little commotion for this gif tho?? Why is he so perfect?? 😭

Law as a doctor is perfectly normal about your injury. He knows with some rest and eventual rehabilitation you'll be just fine. No big deal.

He makes sure you're healing well and comfortable, like he would with any patient

Law as your boyfriend is different.

In the case of an injury with no risk of infection, he'll press a kiss to it. Yes, like he's kissing your boo-boo 🥹

Law does not leave your side. He is your shadow. Where you go, he's right beside you or at the very least in the same room as you.

At first he deadass tries to convince you he's not lingering at all and he's the same as he always is.

But you both know he's lying. He practically moves his office wherever you decide to be for the day.

He can't help himself. What if you fall? What if you reinjure yourself? He's so pressed about the worst case scenarios, and given his past, can you blame him?

He quietly grumbles and pouts about his own "irrational" behavior because he knows in reality you can absolutely go about your day. You're a little slower but you're fine. But he just can't let you. As soon as you start to struggle, he's right beside you offering to help.

If you're aggravated by his hovering, he's twice as annoyed by it. He's literally so frustrated with himself lmao, you might end up having to comfort him instead.

Even if he complains (is it really complaining if he's actually happy lol) you're happy because all this extra time around you makes him extra affectionate. Law snuggles close to you, justifying his closeness by explaining how physical affection can lower cortisol levels.

KID

Oh Kid smh 😔he has no idea how to treat you so he just decides to behave like everything's normal lmao

Legitimately though, even if a inanimate object is what caused your injury, he's destroying it. Just out of pure fury that you were hurt.

He'll huff when you fall behind or have trouble doing something, but he just can't leave you to suffer

He's a man of action lol so he'll probably end up doing things for you just for efficiency sake. You're walking too slow? He picks you up. Can't grab or hold something? He'll do the whole thing for you and next time you try to do the same thing you find he's made something to make it a lot easier for you while you heal.

Anything you need to assist you he'll happily build.

If you have a cast or anything like that, he's gonna draw all over it (honestly, the whole crew will. You're gonna have the most bad ass cast ever)

He absolutely calls you a baby for wincing or complaining. He doesn't mean it...mostly.

If he's not keeping an eye on you than Killer is.

It's not like he's worried or anything! Fuck you for saying that!! He just doesn't want to hear or see you whining and complaining. It's annoying. Okay, sure Kid.

He genuinely hate seeing you in pain though, even if it's just wincing it reminds him of losing his arm and he never wants you to experience anything close to that.

ACE

Ace is your little emotional support boyfriend...or maybe it's the other way around 🤭.

He'll curl up at your side while you recuperate and completely dozes off.

He takes looking after you very seriously and asks Marco lots of questions, even if there's not a whole lot he can do.

He doesn't pity you, but he does feel really bad. Even if it was just an accident, he hates seeing you limited in any way.

He might accidentally treat you like you're made of glass.

It's just because he cares a lot, and he really doesn't want anything else to happen to you.

Every single morning he wakes up and asks how you're feeling or if you're in any pain.

There's a lot of people on the Moby Dick and accidents happen all the time, so don't be surprised when he literally clears a way for you to traverse around the ship.

I'm not saying he's impatient buuuut he will definitely glare at whatever part of you is injured and say, "Jeez, can you heal up already?"

He gives you space, but only if you ask for it. He just doesn't want you to feel like you're ever in this alone.

LUFFY

Luffy is neither patient nor gentle lol but he's extremely loyal

He'll goof off and continue to go on adventures, but he's not gone for long

Even his crew is surprised when tells them he's not going to get distracted because he knows you're back on the Sunny waiting for them.

He's always bringing cool things back to you since you can't do as much as you usually can. Just because you can't be right beside him doesn't mean you have to miss everything.

God bless him he's gonna try to bring you some meat so you'll heal faster 🤭.

He'll absolutely forget you're injured at some point and probably tackle hug you.

The last thing he'll let you do is stay cooped up in bed unless Chopper insists that you have to. Even if you need to rest you can do it right next to him on the head of the Sunny, right?

Exactly like Ace he's going to frown at whatever part of you is injured and say, "Jeez, can you heal up already?!"

He gets whatever you need and probably overdoes it. Need a glass of water? He just straight up brings you the whole barrel.

More is better! Besides, you need to hurry up and get better!

ZORO

He's not worried. He's so chill about it, actually. ...Until you start to move around.

The way he switches up is laugh worthy. He goes from nonchalant to overprotective in an instant.

He practically holds his breath as you make your way around the Sunny, watching you like a hawk.

Admittedly, he does tease you a little. He'll grab things for you, but hold them out of your reach or call you a little turtle if you move slower. He thinks it's very cute hehe.

For better or for worse, Zoro's not a hypocrite. He won't hound you to take it easy if you think you're up to a task. Even if Chopper really wishes he would.

He still won't leave you though, unless you're resting and stationary, he's by your side.

Zoro is your attack dog boyfriend. There's no way anyone (*ahem* Luffy) is fooling around too close to you. There's not going to be a chance you could get hurt more or reinjured.

When you're alone he checks in with you to make sure you're okay, not because he's shy about being soft in front of people but more so to protect your privacy.

He kind of likes doing extra things for you, he won't say it out loud but it makes him really happy when he can do things while you recover. He considers taking care of someone he loves to be such an honor.

SANJI

Unless whatever injured you is vitally important (e.g. the Sunny), he's kicking the shit out of it on principle because how dare anything even dare to hurt you lmao

Are you surprised that he dotes on you hand and foot? You shouldn't be.

I think it also goes without saying he is cooking you best meals.

They're gonna have to tie him down when it comes time for your rehabilitation because he wants to do everything for you.

He's such a sweet heart! He leaves you little messages like "you're doing great!" and "I love you!"

Literally this man lives with you on the ship and he still got you flowers, a get well card, and a little stuffed animal like he's not going to see you every single day

He loves carrying you (as long as it's Chopper approved). He's beaming down the sunny with you in his arms.

He makes the cutest little picnics so you can eat comfortably

Sanji's also an emotional support boyfriend lol. In between cooking for the crew and other duties, he's curled up right next to.

He might coddle you a little too much but it's just because he loves you so so so much

[syoounn]

Them trying period pain simulator

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Characters: Chuuya, Dazai, Fyodor, Sigma

Chuuya

Chuuya quirks a brow at your random suggestion. It's an odd question for sure. He blinks, raising his head from the crook of your neck.

“A period pain….Simulator…?” He echoes, confusion lacing his voice. He props himself up on his elbows to look at you a little more directly. “Why on earth would you want me to do that, Doll-“

As soon as you explain the purpose of the simulator, He laid there, relaxed, and let you set up this “pain simulator” thing.

"Fine.. I can take it even the highest level anyway.." He said, sounding cool and not fond of the idea.

Chuuya wasn’t exactly sure of what to expect, but he knew it was going to be bad. He just didn’t know HOW bad.

The moment the simulator turned on, Chuuya inhaled sharply, arching his back with a small groan of pain.

“F—-k-“ He cursed, his hands clenching into fists. The simulated pains weren’t at all gentle whatsoever.

Chuuya groaned again, shifting his body a bit to try and get more comfortable, but in return, the pain only intensified. Chuuya tried his best to muffle his pained noises by pressing his hands over his mouth, keeping his gaze up at the ceiling.

Chuuya then heard you giggling as he raised his head, looking at you. He gave you a look that was simultaneously annoyed but also kind of pitiful.

“Y’think this is funny? I feel like I’m dying, Doll.”

Chuuya let out a sound that was a strange mix between a pained whine and a scoff.

“Not fair,” He grumbles, shifting his body onto his side. “This thing is cranked up t-to 10 in intensity… ain’t ya’ gonna turn it down a bit..?”

"What do you mean? it's only level 4.." You said.

Chuuya froze, his body stiffening up a bit from hearing that. He had thought that the simulator was at the highest level of intensity the whole time, but now that he heard you say that… that made it worse.

“T-this is only f-fucking LEVEL 4?!” He asked, turning his head to look at you with an almost frightened expression.

A few minutes later and Chuuya was already a complete mess. He was clinging to you like a lifeline, his face buried in the crook of your neck, and his arms were wrapped tightly around your body. Chuuya was trying his best to suppress the whimpers and the sniffles of pain that he was letting out. He still had a bit of his stubborn dignity, but he was crumbling quickly, slowly losing the battle against trying to look tough.

"I thought you could do it until the highest level.." you said.

Chuuya groans against your skin,

“H-highest level my a—ass-“ He hissed, his voice shaky and breathless.

Chuuya continued to cling to you, pressing himself against you like a small, clingy puppy. His breathing was slowly returning to normal, but he still was trembling slightly. Perhaps this is the only way to get rid of his "coolness"

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Dazai

Dazai is just clinging to you as he usually does as he tilts his head up at you, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. He’s heard of those things before, though he isn’t exactly sure what it is. He’ll admit he is curious.

“A period pain simulator, huh? What, you wanna see if I can handle worse than you..?” He teases lightly, letting his arms fall from your body as he sits up, turning to face you.

"You think you can handle it?" You questioned.

He gives you a smirk, crossing his arms and nodding.

“Darling, I’m a grown man; I can handle anything life throws at me. I'm not saying I’m not gonna whine and complain while I’m at it, but I’m sure whatever that thing can dish out, I can handle~”

Dazai grins, his words full of confidence. He figures he’s dealt with far worse things in life, so something that’s just supposed to simulate period cramps shouldn’t be THAT bad… Right?

Dazai watches you in silence as you set the simulator up on him, still wearing a smile as he’s sure he’s able to withstand the feeling. But as soon as you turn it on, his entire demeanour changes.

His eyes widen as unexpected pain courses through his body, his jaw clenches at the uncomfortable feeling, and he lets out an exhale that sounds almost like a gasp.

The room filled with Dazai's sound of whimper and groan as you decided to turn it off.. Chuuya lets out a small sigh of relief as you turn off the simulator. He then shoots you a look, his cheeks a little flushed, and he looks rather needy looking.. is this his plan all along..?

You look at him with suspicious look he just smiles. "Ahh..~ I've been in pain.. don't i deserve to have a-..

You then turn on the simulator again. Dazai's eyes widen in surprise as the simulator simulates the cramps again. He lets out another pained groan, his hands clutching at the bed spread as the pain returns.

“Bella- turn it off- ah-“ He groaned, looking up at you through half lidded eyes.

Looks like you’ll have fun torturing him?

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Fyodor

I don't even know how you manage to convince him, and perhaps you can see this other side of him, but anyways... He snickers lightly, seemingly entertained by the idea. A smirk rests on his lips. "You want to see how well I can endure menstrual cramp simulations? How intriguing."

He takes in the sight of the device, his expression neutral, yet his gaze slightly narrowed, as if studying it closely. "I must admit, I am quite interested to see if this simulator will manage to mimic the pain experienced during a woman's menstrual cycle."

"Alright.. I'll start it up, " you said.

A slight wince appears on his face as the simulator begins its work, the first wave of discomfort making itself known. Nevertheless, he remains silent, determined not to let it affect him too, obviously. He does his best to maintain a neutral facade, though his eyes betray a hint of strain.

The simulator's simulated cramps get increasingly more intense with each passing moment, and Fyodor can't help but feel his determination beginning to crack. Sweat beads on his temple, and his pale face flushes with effort.

Yet, he continues to bite back any further sounds of discomfort, refusing to give it the satisfaction. He mutters through clenched teeth, "How much longer...?"

"It's only level 4..." You said.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, a hint of disbelief flickering in their depths. Level 4? He'd barely endured the first few waves of pain. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes for a moment, drawing in a shaky breath. "How many more levels are there?"

"Like 10 levels.." you said.

Fyodor continues to suffer in silence, his eyes squeezed shut, and his teeth clenched tightly together, stubbornly refusing to give the simulator the satisfaction of breaking his composure. The pain is increasing, getting almost unbearable, and he struggles to keep the sounds of strained gasps from spilling past his lips, struggling to push through the immense discomfort that has taken hold of his body.

"Do you want it to stop..?" you asked.

He opens his mouth to respond, then stops, his pride warring with his sense of self-preservation. Admitting defeat is not exactly his style, but the pain is excruciating and nearly unbearable. After a few moments, he grits out, through clenched teeth, "Tch. Very well. Turn it off."

"How was it?" you asked.

He takes a moment to gather his composure, his breathing still somewhat shaky from the ordeal he'd just endured. He runs a hand through his damp hair and shakes head slightly, trying to clear it. When he finally responds, his voice is slightly strained, and he allows just a hint of pain to creep into it. "Quite... intense. I must admit, it was even worse than I'd imagined."

He exhales slowly and lets his gaze drift over to the device, still feeling the aftereffects of the pain. "You certainly chose quite the... interesting way to spend our time together, my dear."

A sly smile twists his lips. "And here I thought you simply desired to see me squirm in pain."

You then got surprised by that.. he totally caught you. He moves a hand to his stomach, rubbing it in a slow, almost comforting gesture. "However, despite the rather... unpleasant experience, I can not help but feel a sense of respect. You have certainly managed to find a way to surprise me, dear."

He chuckles softly, his voice regaining some of its usual calm. "Still, do not expect me to agree to such a thing again anytime soon. That... experience was not exactly how I'd planned to spend my evening."

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his smirk turning more cheeky. "Now, if you're in the mood for more pleasurable activities, I would be more than happy to oblige, my dear."

Well, i guess good luck to yourself tonight...

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Sigma

Sigma thought over it for a moment before responding to you.

“You want me to experience what it feels to have a period?” He asked now, looking at you with a pout, but not saying no.

"You don't have to if you don't want.." you said.

He thought over it again and then finally made a decision.

“Okay, fine, I’ll do it. Just for you, though.” He said before he removed the hair from his eyes and then looked at you with a shy and nervous expression.

You then prepared the simulator he sat down properly on the bed, mentally preparing himself for the pain he’s about the experience, not knowing what he’s gotten himself into.

The pain simulator then started to turn on and Sigma started to feel like something is tightening up inside of him, a burning sensation as the pain started to spread all over his abdomen, he gripped his shirt now as pained groans escaped his lips, looking at you again, wondering if this was worth it.

The pain just started to become worse and worse as time went by, Sigma now started to whimper out quietly, the pain growing more unbearable, he felt like crying now because of the pain, he just didn’t know how you could handle it, the pain and the cramps was awful.

You saw Sigma’s expression as you turned it off and felt bad.. as you spoke.

"Are you okay?"

When the simulation was turned off, Sigma just sat there for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before nodding at you.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine..” He said quietly in a shaky voice, still a bit in shock and surprised at how painful it is.

Yes it was unbelievable to him that you actually had to suffer from this every single month, dealing with the pain and the cramps, and yet somehow you can still act like your normal self, it just makes him want to do everything he can to make you feel better whenever you are going through your period, he just wanted to protect you from everything.

He looked back at you, watching the concern in your eyes. He just wanted to comfort you and make you feel better. He wanted to spoil you.

He then opened his arms to you, signalling for you to join him, which you did. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close in his embrace, pulling you to rest on his chest, nuzzling into you, letting out a quiet sigh as he did so.

As then these few days, you notice Sigma become affectionate and spoil you more, ahh.. he's such a sweetie.

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(Sorry for not updating for a long time! i promise I'll update more soon!!) ( =＾ω＾)

[aleputellasworshipper]

rock bottom ౨ৎ L.W

Leah x Aussie!reader

description; reader hasn’t been showing up to training nor messaging her national teammates so they tell Leah, her girlfriend.

warnings; self harm, depression, bed rotting ig.

౨ৎ

rock bottom.

it means to be at the lowest possible level.

That’s exactly how I feel at this very moment. I haven’t been to training in a week, I haven’t showered in 4 days, and I haven’t messaged any of my teammates in 3. 

it feels impossible to do anything, let alone breathe.

My room was a mess; plates, bowls, knives, forks, and any other cutlery littered my bedside tables. Drinks, such as iced coffee or any energy drinks, were stacked in the bowls.

it felt like i had hit rock fucking bottom.

My girlfriend Leah had tried calling and texting to see what was going on, but I simply ignored her, not on purpose but simply because I didn’t have the energy, and at this very moment, lying in bed, I had forgotten I had given Leah a key to my house.

Well, that was until I heard my front door unlock, open, and then shut again. I didn’t even have the energy to see if I was about to be robbed. All the thoughts racing through my head finally stopped once my bedroom door had opened, and I heard a voice utter a soft

"baby?"

I had turned my body around, facing the door, to see Leah standing there with a bag in hand. There was one familiar look in her eyes after she had looked around my pigsty of a room.

Pity.

God, I hated that fucking look.

Leah walked closer towards me, she sat the bag down on the ground, since that was the only free space, she kneeled down and place one of her hands on my cheek. “We’ve all been worried about you, love.”

I look up into her eyes; the comforting blue eyes that tackled all my problems. “What’s going on in your beautiful head?” she whispered so quietly that I almost didn’t hear her.

I just shrugged, not having any proper words to answer her question. I watched as her gaze softened, she tilted her head.

“are you okay?” she tried again.

i shook my head.

“i will be, though.” i muttered, my voice croaky since i hadn’t had to talk to anyone for a couple of days.

She nodded, not knowing what she could say, but i could see in her eyes, that she wanted to ask a million questions.

“y/n… why haven’t you shown up to training.. and please don’t bullshit me.” her voice was stern, like she meant business. she knew i was going to lie, so it was a stupid question.

“i’ve been sick, Leah.” i replied, hoping she’d buy it, news flash. she didn’t.

“don’t lie, Y/n.”

i huffed, saying very fast. “i’m tired, Leah. so. fucking. tired, so i’m sorry if i had a couple of days where i just wanted to not train.” the way i said it sounded full of attitude and snark but it was the truth, i was tired.

i was waiting for Leah to scold me for the attitude that littered in my words, but she didn’t.

“that was all you had to say.” She said softly, while stroking my somewhat greasy hair. “you need a shower, love.” as soon as she said that, you could see my face change.

“i’ll help.” Leah said quickly after seeing the distaste on my face. all i could do was nod.

Leah pulled back the covers, helping me sit up by putting her hand against my back. I stood up from my bed, watching where i put my feet due to the rubbish that covered the floor around my bed.

Leah and i walked into the bathroom, she was the first one to start getting undressed, her hoodie being the first to go. i stood there, regretting the fact i agreed to shower while she was here.

Not because i didn’t want her to see me naked, but because i was afraid of her reaction to what remained under my clothes.

She turned to look at me, her eyebrows furrowing, clearly confused as to why i was still fully dressed. She went to grab the hem of my hoodie but i stopped her.

“what’s wrong?” her eyebrows furrowed even further, which was nearly impossible. i just bit my lip.

“please don’t be mad.” i forced out, my voice shaky. her face went from rested to confused, she licked her lips. “why would i be mad, darling?”

and with that, my vision blurred over, my eyes filling with tears, Leah quickly moved her hands from the hem of my hoodie to my cheeks, cooing softly. “oh, baby..”

she wiped the fallen tears, leaning forward to kiss my forehead, murmuring against it. “i could never be mad with you, love. never.”

i wiped the tears from my chin, relaxing my arms, leaving them by my side. i nodded at her, telling her, she could take my hoodie off.

Leah obeyed, lifting my hoodie over my head. once she had seen what filled my wrists, her face dropped.

“y/n…” she whispered, grabbing my hand, getting a closer look at my wrists and the cuts that were littered on them.

“i’m sorry.. i’m so sorry, Leah.. please don’t be disappointed.” i rambled out in one breath, she shook her head, croaking out. “why did you do that to yourself?..”

i shrugged once more, tearing up once again, what i didn’t know was that Leah’s eyes were filled with tears, just as mine were.

i expected Leah to scream and shout at me, what i didn’t expect was for her to bring my wrists up towards her mouth, pressing her lips against my scars, it was soft, like she was afraid to hurt me.

“i’m not mad at you, y/n, i’m mad at myself because i wasn’t there when you needed me to be.” she muttered against my wrists, that broke me. i felt like i could cry.

i moved my wrists from away from her mouth, bringing my hands to her cheeks, leaning our foreheads against one another. “it wasn’t your fault, Leah..” i uttered, trying not to cry.

in return, she pecked my lips.

we let go of one another, she hesitated at first but once i nodded, she continued to undress me, my bra, my trousers, my pants and then my socks.

we got into the shower, standing under the shower head, Leah turns the shower on. We stand under the water together, letting it grace our skin.

“i’m sorry for not texting you or showing up at training.” i spun my naked body around to face Leah’s naked body. she shook her head.

“don’t be ridiculous, you’re struggling, don’t ever apologise for struggling, y/n.”

i nodded once again, she smiled at me and i smiled back, probably the most genuine smile of mine in a while.

“i’ve got you, love. you don’t have to do this alone.” Leah stated, wrapping her arms around my waist, bringing our bodies together, i lean my head on her shoulder, uttering a soft “promise?”

to which, she replied with a “i promise.”

[koliejeon]

Tainted by You - JJK

╰┈➤ 𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: nerd yandere jk x queen bee reader!

╰┈➤ 𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: who would have thought that being tainted by the nerd Jeon Jungkook would feel this good.

╰┈➤ 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 3.3k+

╰┈➤ 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: manipulation, gaslighting, dumbification cock riding, fingering, dom jk, sub! reader, cream pie, squirting, size kink, blackmailing, yandere jk, slightly mean jk, degradation.

You're considered the queen bee of your university, the one who's always seen as the epitome of perfection, with everyone admiring how much of a pretty face and a smart student you are. Being looked up to by everyone on this kind of level really boosts your ego, so it's a shame if anyone would know how much of a  moaning bitch you are while riding the cock of the biggest nerd in school, Jeon Jungkook. 

But It's not your fault that he just fucks you too good... 

He’s just too good at it that you can’t help youself coming back for more, even if you fully knew that this would taint your reputation as a queen bee. I mean, everyone’s expecting you to date someone who’s on your level, and not just a nerd dude with a messy curly black hair and thick glasses that just covers his features. 

But to your defense, he’s not what everyone is thinking of him of. That boy who’s always shy around people, and just keeps himself accompanied with his books has a totally different persona when it’s just the two of you alone. He’s not shy, he’s actually arrogant, mean, manipulative and hot…

Yeah, hot… like how hot the depts of hell could feel like.

It all started last month when your stupid history professor decided to paired you up with him for a project. You didn’t have a problem with it, you thought that with this project, he might open up with you and to others instead of being that awkward nerd guy that everyone hates.

╰┈➤ 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙝

The bell rang as a sign that the class discussion has already ended and that it’s now time for lunch. “You may now leave the class, don’t forget to communicate with your partners and discuss the project” Mr. Lim, your History professor, reminded to everyone as they started packing their things to leave the class. Some replied a simple “yes” to him, while some didn’t bother and just hurriedly leave the room before the canteen seats would run out.

“Y/N, hurry up, let’s go now!” Jennie, who’s one of your friends said to you as she’s waiting for you near the classroom’s door. You smiled at here and was about to say something along the lines of “Yeah, i’m coming,” but you got distracted when you saw the boy in one of the backseats, he looks so lonely in there packing his things ever so slowly – probably taking his time since no one is inviting him anyway to go for a lunch, and for some reason you felt pity for him. “Actually, just go ahead first, I remember I have something to do this time” you lied to her, and she simply just agreed to what you said as she quickly tag along with her other friends.

Now it’s just the two of you alone in the classroom, you awkwardly approach him… unsure of how to start a conversation with him. “Uhm… Jungkook right?” you asked even know the answer is already obvious.  He looked up at you and stared at you for atleast 5 seconds before responding “Y-yeah that’s me” he managed to mutter that out with a little stutter. You thought he was just shy, and you hate it. This is literally the reason why he’s being made fun of by those bullies. You brushed off that thought as you brightly smiled at him, “Great! I’m Y/N, Mr. Lim paired us up for the project. I suggest if we start doing it as early as possible” 

“I’m okay with that” he simply replied.

“I’m free later, are you okay with that? I just don’t know where we can do the project though, My apartment is not that great since it’s small and I’m sharing it with Jennie” You stated, already feeling comfortable in conversing with him even though he’s not literally replying anything and just looking at you. You  guess he’s more of a listener rather than a talker. “Aha! How about we do the project at your place?”  you suggested out of nowhere. The project has to do with arts and crafts, so coffee shops are not the best place to do the project. 

Jungkook eyes seemed to widen from being shock with what you’ve said. He can't even believe it. You want to go to his house??? This is something straight out from his dreams.

“Y-yeah…sure, why not” he was really glad and euphoric that you’ve said that, but his reply came like he was just forced to say yes.  “Great! You can send me your address” you said, and he frowned but not enough for you to notice, what do you mean by that? You don’t wanna go with him together at his house later? “Uhm… lets just go together later” he suggested, and you nervously chuckled, no way your gonna go with him after class, people might see you and probably make fun of you for hanging out with a weird guy like him.

“But-”

“It’s kind of far away from here and you might get lost” he explained without stuttering, while straightly looking in your eyes. Those thick glasses might have cover his intense gaze, but definitely not the tension that’s starting to form in the room.

There’s this something from his aura, it’s like a sudden change that you could clearly figure out, but it surely made you nervous as you gulped. You wanted to say something but you were unable to get the right word out of your mouth, so instead you simply just agreed with him “...m’kay” you said while looking at the ground like a child who got declined by your parents to buy the toy that you wanted in the store. 

Yeah, you wanted to somehow talk to him, but not like this!  You were sulking with the idea and Jungkook found it cute that he smirk at your behavior. He broke the silence by saying good bye to you for now, “So I guess were already settled? I’ll see you at the parking lot” 

╰┈➤ 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙥𝙨 - 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙤𝙩

It’s already 6 PM when I headed in the parking lot as I try to spot where Jungkook might be. Classes are already finished at 5:30 PM but I made sure to be late so that no one familiar would spot me getting onto Jungkook’s vehicle. This almost feels like I’m doing some sort of a crime, even though I am not. After a few minutes of searching he spots me and raised his hand to get my attention. I immediately went into his direction and damn… I just don’t know how to feel.

He’s leaning in a black sedan that I suppose is his with his left hand in his pocket and the other hand holding a cigarette. This is the only time that I’ve noticed he has veiny hands. Just what the actual fuck! It feels like I’m looking at the same person from an hour ago! He’s definitely not the typical nerd you get to see everyday. I mean, a nerd with a sedan who’s looking hot as ever while smoking?! I was basically gawking at the new sight, and I only got out from my delusions when he cleared his throat.

“Let’s go?” He said as he throw the cigarette on the ground and stomped on it. “Yeah” is the only thing I was able to mutter as I went to the passenger side of his car. I buckled my seatbelt on, and he started driving. He was wearing a ripped jeans and a grey Calvin Clien hoodie that he later on re-adjusted, exposing his left arm that is covered with tattoos. Do I even fully know this guy??? It seems like all those school gossips about him are just pure lies.

He was not lying, his house was really a bit far from the University, not to mention the slight traffic on the way. His house was located somewhere inside of an expensive looking village.

“You live here?” You asked after getting out of his car. The house was big, and looks expensive with a modern touch to its’ architecture. “Yeah, my parents gifted it to me last year” he replied like it was nothing as he guided you through the main entrance of his house. What kind of parents would gift their child an expensive house?! For fucks sake he didn’t even graduated yet or is about to get married. His parents must be crazy rich like those in the movies.

“I already have the needed materials, is it okay for you to wait here? I just needed to freshen up”

“Ugh… yeah sure. I’ll just play some music in my phone” I said, and he simply chuckled before opening the television for me without saying anything. I feel poor being here., well yeah my parents are also well-off, but not on this level!  Waiting for him for at least 25 minutes was boring so I just made myself at home as I watched the movie playing in the television. 

“You should take a picture” he suddenly said which caught me off guard

“I- what?”

“You’re looking at me a little too much”

“No I wasn’t!” I tried to deny it even though it was already obvious as my face became as red as a tomato from being so embarrassed, that I choosed to look on the floor, being shy to even look at him” Inside of my head, I was scolding myself for acting that way, he must have now think of me as a pervert!

He started approaching me, and before I knew it, he lifted up my chin as he cupped my face with both of his hands so that I would look at him. We we’re both looking at each other’s eyes, and then everything just happened so fast, I didn’t even know why I let It happen, but we we’re now passionately kissing as both of our tongues fought for dominance in which he obviously won. We were now in his bedroom but before things could  get even more heated, I tap his shoulder thrice as a sign that I want it to stop. Gladly, he accepted my request and pulled back, “This is wrong” I simply told him, and a that made him ‘tsk’ as his face contorted an annoyed look.

“Wrong? Tell me what’s wrong about this Y/N?!” He answered back, he’s clearly not liking what I’ve told him but him. I can’t just answer him by saying that I don’t want to be associated with someone like him, people would make fun of me, and my reputation as a queen bee who’s always been perfect would be tainted. I don’t want them to think that choosing Jungkook was a bad decision, and that I’ve made a wrong decision. But I just can’t also tell that to Jungkook, I don’t want him to feel bad himself even though those are the true reason. I remained silent without moving a single inch of my body, my hand are still in his shoulder while he’s arms are wrapped on my waist. We were standing in the middle of the room, but even though were close enough, I didn’t had the urge to look in his eyes even though I know that he’s  looking at me with burning gaze.

“What? You don’t know how to answer now? Cat got your tongue? Or  you’re stupid little mind can’t just comprehend simple things?!” All his words hurt like hell, I didn’t even realize he could say such mean things to me, when all I knew is that we was that shy nerd boy at the back of the class who doesn’t even know how to fight back from his bullies. “Stupid Y/N, can’t even explain herself” he continued belittling me and it was all to much that I burst out and cry myself in his chest. He was shocked for a while but then embraced me in his arms as he let me cry all my worries while shushing me down “Shhh it’s okay darling, I know you’re little brain hurts from thinking too much, you don’t have to think, that’s my job, and you only have to follow what I say, right? It’s true, my mind was clouded and it hurts, so I just let him embrace me while drawing circles on my back.

It stayed like that for a while but then Jungkook drop the bomb, “I know you think it’s wrong because it would taint your reputation. Their poor queen bee Lee Y/N dating the nerd Jeon Jungkook? Doesn’t sound good to them right?” I look up at him, unable to say anything, and that just made me tear up more. “I’m sorry” I muttered to him as I buried myself in his bare chest, the citrus scent of his body wash engulfing my nostrils.

“Shhh… it’s okay baby, I know how much you love the attention the campus is giving you, it makes your dumb ego grow right? But the thing is, you ONLY need my attention”

“I’m sorry - Y/N’s really sorry” I said, already at my worst point as I continued to cry. I feel like a bad person based on what’s he’s telling me, but that’s the truth, I’m too self-concious of what people will say to me, I’m someone who starved attention, and I just feel bad that Jungkook has to know that side of me, and I’m now thinking that I hurted his feelings because I was too selfish. So I kept on apologizing “Gguk, Y/N’s sorry, please forgive her”

Jungkook smirked in victory, he knew he fully had you in control, oh just how easy it is to manipulate you. To break you into pieces so that he can fix you again, and then make feel like he’s the only one who can fix and save you from yourself.

“Shh… I was really hurt, darling. What you did was wrong, how come you think of me as a person that would taint your reputation when all I do is love you from a far?” that made me feel guilty more…

“But I would forgive you if…

“If what? Please tell me, Gguk, I will make it up to you, I promise!” I said, feeling determined to fix my mistake.

“If you make love with me. Prove me that you love me, that you need me, and that you’re not afraid to be tainted by me” and so, without much thought, I kissed him deeply, I opened my mouth, inviting him to intertwine his tongue in my hot cavern, as he lifted my shirt and carry me on his bed. I am now laying on my back, the tension from both us rising as I hurriedly removed my pants, leaving me in my underwear. The sight infront of me, him hovering above me as he continued kissing me while exploring every inch of my body had me whimpering in his bed. He started attacking my neck, making sure to leave as many hickies he could so that everyone knows I’m his.

His right hand started massaging my breast while the one started licking and sucking my nipple. The pleasure was just too good to be true, and after a seconds, my buds now sensitive and hardened as I continued moaning shamelessly. The pleasure that he’s giving me was just too god that I started unconciously buckling my hips to his hardened dick.  “Too impatients aren’t you?” he teased, and I just whimpered. He took off my panties, looking at my dripping core, already wet for him. “Please hurry,”  “Easy there, princess we have to to adjust your pretty little pussy first so it woudn’t hurt that much, okay?” he’s talking to me as if I’m some dumb kid, it was embarrasing but it makes me more turned on. Two fingers were pushed in my hole, I was shocked at the sudden intrusion but he soothed it by drawing circles on clit. “See? My fingers are even too much for you, how can you properly take my cock if you’re like that?” I wanted to disagree with him but I coudn’t utter a single word as he started fastly moving his digits inside me. “One more,  please” he only chuckled after hearing that, and I’ve never felt so pathetic in my entire life. He must’ve known that I’m  being dumbly determined just to impress him, but I later regret that when he fulfilled my wish. 

“As you wish, darling” the third finger definitely burned my inside like hell, he’s fingers are not just long but also thick. After some time, my moans got louder and louder as I trembled in his fingers, and before I knew it, I squirted a lot, but he didn’t stop from fingering me, until I was begging him to stop “Ggukie…. To-too much please” and with that he removed his fingers on me...

“You haven’t even got the real thing yet. Plus you promised me, you would make it up for me, right?  I was really hurt you know?”

“Sorry, I forgot” I embarrassedly admitted with a pout  and he only chuckled at me “I know, it’s okay, I’m always here to remind you”

“Have you tried riding a cock before?” his question caught me off guard, 

“What??? No I’ve never! Plus… you’re actually my first”

“Good, cause I will make sure that that person would die, if someone comes first on you before me. How about you become a good girl and right my dick, yeah? Prove me that you’re really sorry” I blushed at his statement but I didn’t bother to disagree with his request, I was at fault and I should make it up.

He’s leaning on the headboard right now, and Ii’m straddling his lap, while he lined up his cock in my entrance. I started moving down ever so slowly, but Jungkook was patient enough. But you know what they say, patience can also grew out easily, “What if it hurts?” I dumbly asked him, knowing that it would hurt more after seeing his size. He’s length is around 7 inch and it’s very thick, “It’s supposed to hurt, Darling” and with that, both of his hands pushed me down on his length, it hurt at first, but after a few seconds of adjusting, it felt like a bliss of heaven. I continued to bounce up and down on his length while moaning loudly as he played with my boobs, “Touch your clit, love” I did as what I was told and it was the best feeling I could ever imagine. Later on, I grew tired and cummed on his dick, but he didn’t stop there, instead he controlled my hip movement as he buckled is hips to reach his high and cum deep inside me. I was already pliant as black out after the session.

You may have not seen it, but Jungkook had the biggest grin of victory on his face, as he removed his now soften length inside your pussy. You’re already passed out, so Jungkook took the time to clean both of you as he covered your body with clean sheets. Little did you know, everything was recorded, from the moment the two of you step in his room. Jungkook would surely play the video sometime to jerk on you, and maybe use it for blackmail if you started acting up. But for now, you don’t have to know anything, what the two of you have, the thing that he made you believe, is already enough for him, cause he succesfully tainted you.

[loaksky]

tw : ptsd

hi I love love love your work, may I make a request: abby comforting reader with ptsd after a nightmare/episode 🧸 only if you’re comfy with that of course angel!!

— 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒆 | 𝒂. 𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏

roommate!abby x fem roommate!reader, fluff / mild angst, wc: 2.3k

synopsis: oftentimes when you’re lost in the darkness, abby’s your light.

content warnings: language, sprinkled mentions trauma and implied ptsd ! talks of death, brief mentions of canon-compliant violence. this is set in the tlou2 universe, but is canon-divergent (did i use that term right lmaooo ??), abby & reader get off to a rocky start, but they’re so fucking cute & i wanna write more of them ????

author’s note: sugar !! you don’t even know how excited i was to see you in my inbox bae ! ilysm thank you so much for requesting ! hope i did this justice <3 ALSO this is my first time writing in the tlou universe ?? usually i write modern!aus so i'm like pissing myself lowkey ansjkdnfjasf

main masterlist | tlou masterlist

YOUR PRESENCE ON BASE SENDS a ripple of whispers from wall to wall. The circumstances pertaining to your arrival hadn’t been uncommon, but they were brutal, had people eyeing you with equal parts sympathy and disdain.

Truthfully, you don’t remember much of it, had blacked out after the first death, but the murmurs speculate that your entire family had been ambushed, turned and then picked off in a raid.

You don’t know how true that is.

Abby doesn’t really pay you much mind at first, isn’t all that thrilled when she finds out that you’re taking the spare side of the spacious room she occupies, but she keeps her mouth shut when she sees how fragile you are.

And it’s not like she sees you much, not even in the evenings when most people are turning in for the night. Your bed’s always made, your side of the room in pristine condition. The only indication that you lodge with Abby is the beat up backpack that hangs on the hook by your desk.

On occasion she’ll wake up in the wee hours of the night to find you tucked under the blankets, still as a statue, but come morning, you’re gone.

For a while, she appreciates the distance, but when she sees you only a handful of times in the nearly two months you’ve sought refuge at the stadium, she begins to grow curious.

First it starts as asking passive questions to those patrolling, then she starts briefly combing any areas she enters, but you’re like a fleeting wisp of smoke, gone with a gust of wind.

She happens upon you by chance one night, right as the sun is setting. She’s on her way to the weight room when she notices you. The library is relatively quiet around this time, everyone usually in the dining hall or working on their evening duties.

But there you are, going through a carton of what looks like newly arrived books from the most recent raid.

Abby acts against her own better judgment, door whooshing as she presses her weight against the pushbar.

You’re looking up from your sorting, eyebags still prominent, but the color has returned to your face and you look like you’ve been taking care of yourself.

“This where you disappear to everyday?” Abby asks, pulling an early 2000’s almanac from the shelf to distract herself from the sear of you gaze.

She glances back at you when you don’t respond, finds that you’ve returned to shuffling through the box instead of humoring her question.

She clears her throat, takes another step closer, and you’re looking up at her again.

“Any good titles?” she tries. “I’m kinda in a slump right now, think I—”

“You don’t have to pity me,” you say flatly, voice a lot different than Abby’d expected.

She’s floored, regardless. Doesn’t know what would compel you to say such a thing when she’s barely spoken a dozen words to you since your arrival.

“I’m not following,” Abby admits.

You’re small in comparison, but the look you level her with is mighty, makes her cheeks bloom red because a woman’s never looked at her in such a way. She feels like she’s in trouble, but maybe she likes it.

“I hear what you all say about me,” you say firmly. “That I’m probably batshit crazy, that the patrolling team should’ve just left me to die with the rest of my family, that I’m useless.”

Abby flinches, brows drawing together and lips parting incredulously.

You don’t expect her reaction.

“I’m lost?” she says in confusion, then adds, tone stony, “who’s been saying that shit?”

Frankly, you don’t really look convinced, but your shoulders are relaxing a fraction. Perhaps you won’t admit it, but Abby’s quiet outrage provides some semblance of comfort.

You shrug.

“Doesn’t matter,” you say quietly. “But you don’t have to go out of your way to be nice to me. I’m fine on my own.”

And Abby doesn’t know whose neck she has to wring, or how many for that matter, but despite initially being lukewarm towards you, she wants to squash every single person who’s made you feel like you can’t find a place among them.

“That’s bullshit,” she replies frankly, and you’re looking at her sharply. “People are bored, like to run their mouths. There’s a place here for everyone, you included.”

Such simple words shouldn’t make you feel warm, but you’re pausing, frozen like a hurt pup experiencing affection for the first time. You’re glancing up at her, lips pressed in a thin line.

Abby’s fidgeting because fuck, did she overstep a boundary with this interaction? Should she have left you alone instead? She wasn’t necessarily mad at the distance between you two, but the establishment of having a roommate makes her feel like she’s been living with a ghost recently.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

Abby’s shoulders deflate in relief, chest hitching as she takes in a shaky sigh.

“Have you...have you had dinner yet?”

Abby learns that regardless of breaking the ice, you’re still reserved. It’s quiet breaths of laughter when she cracks a joke, learning how to settle for the silence when the two of you are spending prolonged periods of time together (which is a lot more frequent that Abby had expected), and being the buffer between you and most things you find uncertainty with.

Not only that, but you’re a nocturnal creature of habit that she usually finds cooped up in the library.

It’s half past one in the morning some weeks later when she wakes up and groggily squints over the railing that divides the room to find that your bed is empty.

She’s pulling on a hoodie, slipping on a pair of sneakers and brushing her hair from her face as she slinks out into the hallway. And, of course, you’re in the first place she thinks to look, curled up against the cushions of an oversized chair with your eyes drooping over a children’s picture book.

She enters almost silently, only catching your attention when she’s a few paces away.

“Hey, A–” A yawn pulls from your chest. “Hey, Abby.”

She smiles softly.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

She leans against the armrest of the chair, peers down at you as you flip lazily through the pages before she’s pulling the book from your grasp.

You let out a sound of disapproval.

“M’not done,” you tell her.

“You look like you’re about to knock out,” Abby observes. “Why don’t we get you to bed.”

You yawn again, then sigh deeply.

“I won’t be able to fall asleep anyways,” you admit quietly.

Abby shifts and you look up at her. She notices the glimmer of vulnerability that glosses over your sleepy eyes.

“Is it because...” she trails off, swallows down the rest of her question because she doesn’t want to seem insensitive, but you seem to get the gist anyways.

“Among other things,” you admit.

“Oh,” Abby whispers. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug tiredly.

“Can’t be helped, really.”

And Abby’s learned to really like you these past few weeks, has felt for you and your journey here. It makes something tug hard at her heartstrings, especially when she sees little slivers of peace dawn you for a few moments at a time, only to be weighed down by the gravity of it all.

“Why don’t we go back and you can at least lay down?” she asks softly. “You need to rest.”

And you want to argue, tell her that it really is no use, especially when the darkness can be one of your sensitive triggers. But the look that Abby is giving you is pleading, like she can’t bear the thought of another one of your sleepless nights, so you nod carefully and let her guide you out of the seat.

“I know it’s touchy,” she says after a few silent moments down the hall. “But, you can...you can talk to me if you ever, y’know, need to get anything off your chest.”

You don’t mean to, you’re just caught up in the moment and Abby has a way of making you feel safe, but you’re grabbing gently at her fingertips as the two of you walk down the corridor.

“Thanks, Abby,” you swallow.

If Abby looks hard enough out the window, she can see the beginnings of the sun as it starts its ascent. She’d spent the latter half of the late evening murmuring to you in the dark, hoping that maybe the sound of her voice would lull you to sleep.

And it does, miraculously, she thinks to herself, when she hears the light puff of your steady breathing. She stays still for moments that bleed into several minutes, monitoring the tandem of your breaths. She doesn’t even realize how much time has passed until the sky begins to ooze from midnight to burnt swathes of orange.

She hadn’t slept a wink, too busy wanting to make sure that you’re snoozing well enough in the short period of time since you’d laid your head down. So she decides to get dressed in the dark, is in the middle of sliding her belt through the loops when she hears it.

It’s most imperceptible, the murmur that slips from your lips, but Abby’s been hyperaware recently. She thinks that maybe she’d been a little too loud, jeans rustling a little too hard, belt buckle clanging too much. But even as she stills in the dark, she hears the whimper that echos against the exposed rafters.

“Please...” Abby freezes, lump lodged deep in her throat.

Your body jerks, mattress squeaking under the sudden movement as your sheets rustle once, then twice.

“No.” Your breath catches so hard in your chest, Abby’s worried you won’t take another.

She’s crossing the room quickly, pawing around your nearby desk for the small lamp. The dim bulb casts a yellow glow over the surroundings and Abby finds you damp with a sheen of sweat.

“No, no, don’t—”

When her hands find you, you’re shooting up, shoving her away with so much force, she’s knocked to her ass. Before she even blinks, you’re straddling her, dagger she hadn’t even known you had on you, drawn.

“Hey,” she whispers shakily. “It’s me.”

Your eyes are wild, cheeks streaked with tears as you take in your surroundings. You touch base with your senses to ground you; the sound of your ragged breathing, the smell of Abby’s pine-scented soap, the taste of blood on your tongue, the feel of Abby’s shirt bunched in your fist, and the sight of her rigid frame clearing from the fog.

“Fuck,” you choke. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You’re dropping the dagger, fist loosening as you scramble to climb off of her. But her fingers are closing around your wrist to stop you, mooring you to place.

“It’s okay,” she says breathlessly. “It’s fine. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

Her hands slowly come up to brush over the sides of your arms comfortingly, and when you don’t flinch away, she’s reaching up to smooth the hair from your face.

The softness of her touch makes you melt, makes you wrap your arms around her shoulders and fall into her as her arms wind around your waist.

“I’m here,” she assures you quietly. “You’re safe.”

And when she feels your body shake against hers, her chest is squeezing, feels all those tamped down emotions from a loss that feels like such a distant memory resurface with every quiet sob that wracks your body.

She feels like she’d processed her grief well enough over the past few years after losing her dad, was buoyed in a consistent state of anger that manifested in a deep-seated need for vengeance as of late. But this makes her sad. Makes her want to take away everything that’s ever made you feel hurt in the world.

She’s squeezing you so tight, nose nestling into your hair as she rocks you gently.

Abby still doesn’t know how much time passes, but your heaving breaths turn into spaced hiccups as you sink further into her hold. She doesn’t realize that the exhaustion has crept over you until one of your hiccups fades to a sigh, until she’s pulling away to see that your cheek is pressed against her shoulder and your wet lashes brush the apples of your cheeks.

For once, it seems like one of those slivers of peace has found you in a moment of sleep and Abby wants to preserve it.

She’s shifting your weight, arms banding tight around your waist so that she can slowly stand. And when you stir, she cringes in defeat. But your breath puffs against the column of her throat, and while your proximity makes her cheeks burn, she can only focus on settling you back into bed.

“Abby,” you whisper groggily, as she sits on the edge of your bed to kick her shoes off. “Don’t leave, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assures you softly, leaning back against your pillows and taking you with her. “I’ll be right here.”

True to her word, when you wake up, she is, one arm propped underneath her head, the other splayed between your shoulder blades.

The sun sits high in the sky, analog clock reading well into the morning and nearing the afternoon.

“Oh, fuck!” You’re leaning up abruptly, jostling Abby from her slumber and she’s gazing up at you with bleary eyes.

“Shit, are you okay?” Abby asks, voice thick with sleep.

“They’re probably looking for you,” you say frantically. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I—”

The hand on your back hasn’t left yet, rubbing slow circles there, the other mapping across your shoulders to pull you into her chest.

“S’okay,” she reassures you. “They won’t miss me for a day.”

“Abby—”

“Shhh,” she mutters. “M’sleeping.”

And you want to cry. Equal parts because of embarrassment and equal parts because Abby’s showed you the most kindness you can remember anyone ever showing you and it makes your heart swell in your chest.

“Abby?”

“Yes, ________?” she grumbles.

“Thank you.”

She squeezes you tighter.

neng © 2023

[streetlightyeri]

the misspoken chapter ; scott miller

chapter I of the 28 series

“you took a train to the south side of boston, you showed me where your old man stayed.”

w.c: around 7000

warnings: misogyny, extended writing of being trapped in an elevator, mention of pregnancy in medical setting, not well proofread.

-

Aspen rested her head on Scott’s shoulder as the Red Line railcar thundered back up across the Charles River. His arms were folded across his chest for the beginning of the ride, but his sleepy girlfriend had wedged her arms through his, intertwining her fingers into the hand closest to her. He busied his other hand with grabbing the sliding tupperware of leftovers her parents weighed them down with. It was a short train trip; Scott wasn’t sure how she was able to fall asleep and get so comfortable so fast. It must’ve been her plan from the moment he saw her heavy blinks after dessert.

When they finally got to their stop, he flexed his hand she was holding before shaking it, the movement making her grumble and lift her head. He pressed a chaste kiss to her hair before standing, her arms still wrapped around his. “This is our stop.”

She stood and let him guide her back to the street where the cool air started to wake her up. He let go of her hand to reposition himself on the outside; he flexed his hand in the absence of hers, but her warmth found him again quickly, without him having to ask.

They finally made it back to their shared apartment, their soon-to-be alma mater shining in the distance.

-

The two met when she overheard him bitching at an undergrad she was just helping about how he messed up a line of code and didn’t deserve the second chance to correct his homework for something as simple as a parenthesis. When the student asked what he could do to learn from his mistake, Scott looked through stacks of paper and pulled out a piece with lines of letters and numbers printed on it. “Find whoever this is, and hope they have pity on you to teach you.”

Aspen scoffed from behind her computer screen, recognizing the paper. She never understood why they had to print out coding homework, but Dr Muher was weird. Scott’s eyes narrowed in her direction; the other two students using Dr Muher’s TA’s Study Hour quickly gathered their things and bolted out the door.

“I’m sorry, is another student’s struggle funny to you?”

Aspen stopped typing and shut her laptop as though she had all the time in the world. She interlocked her fingers and rested her chin on them. “No, just that you’re using my work as an example and you don’t even know what I look like.”

Scott looked between the paper and the girl and before letting out his own scoff. “Yeah, I will not believe this is your work.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Why not? Please enlighten me.”

“This is too advanced to be a junior’s work.”

“This is a junior level class, is it not?”

“Yes, but-”

“The name on the paper is Aspen Lee, is it not?”

The TA’s hand tightened around the paper in anger at being defied.

She stood, palms resting on the table. “Why don’t you say what you’re thinking? That it can’t be me because I’m a girl. You’re the TA, why is it my job to teach my peers? I know the army doesn’t pay you shit, but that isn’t my fault. You don’t see my name on a fucking building here, and I’m not making it someone else’s problem.”

She zipped her backpack and wrapped her laptop in her arms. Just before she was out of the door she turned back, hand on the doorknob, “And by the way, his work is missing a bracket, not a parenthesis.”

-

A few weeks later, after very fiery glances being thrown between the two, Dr Muher called the two to her office hours. She sat with perfect posture as she looked across to the two biggest headaches of her entire teaching career, both with their arms crossed and scowls set deep in their faces. “I will not have my TA and my highest performing pupil glaring each other down every second of my class! I do not care what animosity you have for each other, but your rivalry is causing a rift to form in my classroom. You will both give apologies in front of the class for the way you two have behaved.”

Scott went to speak, but the stone coldness of Aspen’s voice lowered the temperature in the room, “No.”

Dr Muher pulled her head back in a mix of surprise and disbelief. “I’m sorry Ms Lee, but did you just say ‘no’?”

“I’m not apologizing when this is his fault.” She jutted her thumb in his direction.

He let out a groan, “What are you, five?”

Aspen rolled her eyes and swallowed hard, standing from her chair and throwing her bag over her shoulder. The professor held her hand up to Scott, warning him to stop, before turning her gaze back to Aspen, freezing her in place. “Ms Lee, I will not tolerate the environment you two have created in my classroom, you must understand this.”

Aspen’s voice was throaty, years of anger seeping into her words. “Why is it me who always has to ‘understand’? And speaking of ‘understanding,’ I thought you of all people would! You are the only woman on this goddamn computer science faculty, you know what it’s like having to prove yourself, downplay yourself, humble yourself, just to make the very essence of you palpable for the men in this field. You’re trying to tell me my work was good enough to rub in another student’s face until he saw that it was me who did it? And you expect me to just lay there and take it? I will not apologize to my peers for something that is not my fault, especially when I have yet to hear an apology from him! And if proving the point that the woman always gets the worse end of the deal requires me failing this class, that is something I am willing to do.”

-

Seven days later, Scott had not apologized and neither had Aspen. She was missing from all three following lectures. Just seeing her name as he transcribed attendance from everyone’s clicker made him grip his pencil to near breaking. After that third lecture, Scott was sitting at his desk in Dr Muher’s office, grading freshman coding assignments. He nearly threw his laptop after the 4th student in a row couldn’t make a circle turn 360 degrees. When Aspen walked in, he pressed the 0 key on his keyboard so hard that the student’s grade input as 000000000/10 and tanked their grade to a negative seven.

Her backpack hung off one shoulder, and she had a single piece of pink paper in her hand. She didn’t acknowledge Scott as she handed the paper over to the professor.

Dr Muher pulled her glasses off her head and perched them on her nose, pretending as if she needed to read what the paper said to know that the Pepto Bismol pink paper was a drop slip. She dropped the paper on her desk with a sigh, “Ms Lee, you are aware that dropping my class this close to the end of the year will impact your financial aid and your transcript?”

“This class isn’t even for my major, I took it as a free elective.”

The professor blinked, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, “Remind me again why you are taking junior level C++ and are a . . . what major?”

“I’m here for coastal engineering. My programs are in MATLAB and Python. I just needed the A from this class. I’ll get it elsewhere. So, can you sign the slip?”

Dr Muher sighed again and sprawled her signature onto the slip. When the door shut behind Aspen, she turned to Scott, pointing in the direction Aspen disappeared to with the end of her glasses. “Fix this.”

-

The first flurries of winter were falling around Aspen as she made her way across campus and into the student union. The snow was a month early; it was only the beginning of November. It was early morning, the first class section still multiple hours away. She paid for a coffee and redirected herself to the elevators to go to the study rooms on the top floor.

An irritatingly tall man in a military uniform walked up next to her, freshly showered but still flushed from a workout. “May we talk?”

Aspen gave him a side glance, refusing to turn to him and have to look up, continuing to walk down the breezeway. “No.”

That made him falter. Scott pursed his lips and took a deep breath, summoning all of the patience he never knew he possessed. He took two steps to catch up with her, shoving his hand in the door of the elevator she had already made it to. His teeth were grit as he spoke, “Please, may we talk?”

“Why, Dr Muher threatened to give you a bad review to your Lieutenant?” She made eye contact with him through the mirrors that surrounded them as the elevator slowly ascended.

“You have to be such a dick all the time?”

Aspen finally looked at him, eyebrows lifted and eyes widened as if to say “oh, I’m the dick?” but couldn’t finish her sentence, the jolting of the elevator before it stopped prevented her from finishing. The fluorescent light above them flickered; the two turned their heads up towards it. “You have got to be fucking joking.”

She was nearest to the buttons, the two having left enough room for a squadron of kindergarteners to stand between them. Aspen pressed the open door button, hoping the stop was a fluke and the pair just hadn’t realized they were already at the 3rd floor.

The door did not open.

“Shocking.”

Aspen swung her head to glare at him. “And if we pressed the emergency call button and hadn’t pressed that, what would we have done if that was the fix?”

Scott narrowed his eyes back at her, shooing her away from the buttons. She tried to resist but his arm pushing her backwards against her shoulders was too strong and she stumbled to the corner he just vacated. His finger hovered against the emergency call button. “No smart comment about how I might tell whoever answers that there’s only one person who needs help?”

“What would they do when they came? Pry open the doors to get you out then snap them back shut and cut the cable line to let me fall to my death?” Aspen swiped open her phone with her free hand but only an SOS signal shined back at her.

Scott mumbled out a Jesus Christ at the morbid quip before pressing the button. The two sat in tense silence for a few seconds before a voice cracked through an unseen speaker. “University Police Department, what’s your emergency?”

“This is Staff Sergeant Scott Miller, a civilian and I-” Scott saw Aspen mouth civilian to herself and quietly snort out a laugh, “are in an unmoving elevator in the student union breezeway.”

Aspen rested her head against the wall with her eyes closed while he continued the call. The mirrors reflecting off each other creating infinite Scotts was too much for her to handle.

“Please prepare to be there for up to multiple hours, as we need to ensure there is nothing wrong with the wiring due to the weather. It is pertinent that you do not open the doors from the inside; the elevator may resume working on its own and can be deadly if one of you is caught between a floor and the elevator.”

The voice clicked off just before it could hear the two of them say, “Hours?”

Then the light went out.

-

It took only a half hour for Aspen to suck her coffee dry and begin to lose body heat. The breezeway elevator shafts were connected to the outside, meaning whatever temperature was outside translated to the inside. The box was slowly becoming an ice locker. Scott was still warm, fully dressed in his three uniform layers that kept in his body heat from his post-workout shower. Aspen looked through her bag multiple times, hoping to find an extra scarf or gloves but was out of luck each time. She breathed into her hands and rubbed them together before putting her hands in her armpits. She kept her head down to blow warm air onto herself.

A camouflage jacket hit her body before falling to the floor. She looked at Scott, who was sitting on the opposite corner of the elevator, feet planted and knees up. She lifted a brow in question.

“Put it on so you don’t die of hypothermia. If I get saved and you’re dead, the military police are going to have my ass.”

-

Aspen was still shivering under Scott’s military jacket. The metal of the elevator was absorbing more of the cold air from outside and turning the cube into a certified meat locker. She pulled out her textbooks and stacked them on the floor so the two of them could avoid putting their cores near the cold metal. She didn’t want to admit that it was Scott’s idea, but he had little to offer for them to sit on aside from cold, sweaty clothes in his duffle bag.

She curled into his jacket, trying to seal in any warmth left from him. Her knees were pulled to her chest and she dipped her head to meet them so her hot breath warmed up her skin through her pants.

After a few minutes, Scott noticed a decrease in her shuddering breathing movements. He nudged her side. “Are you still alive, Lee?”

She let out a grumble. “Yes, Miller. I think I am alive because if I was in hell, it wouldn’t be this cold.”

He snorted, “Going to hell, eh?”

She peaked out of her cocoon, only one eye visible to him. “If I die and you’re there, then yeah, I’m in hell.”

-

“What were you going to say?” Aspen asked, her voice muffled.

“What?”

“What you were chasing me to say.”

Scott sat in the silence that followed for a while. “I wanted to apologize.”

She pulled her head out the cocoon she made, brows knit in surprise.

It looked like it pained him to say it, but Aspen could tell there was sincerity in his words. There was no need for him to be as truthful as he was being. “I was an asshole to you that day in study hour, but I feel like you put words in my mouth. It made me angry - livid, so I figured if you saw me as the bad guy, I might as well let myself play the part.”

“What words?”

“You said I inherently valued your work less because you’re a woman - it isn’t and never was true. I knew that whoever Aspen Lee was, she was a woman, or at least identifying as one, according to MIT’s gradebook. The part that I couldn’t believe was that you were already there, helping him. I heard the way you spoke to that student, the way you pointed out his mistake but didn’t make him feel bad for it but didn’t baby him either. You knew that you were right and were unapologetic about it, but not mean. I’ve spent my entire time in the STEM field learning to cope with being belittled and scolded for a mistake. I think it’s why I do so well in the army - it’s the same shit.

“The company I work for outside of the military wants me to recruit talent in coding, C++ specifically. When I first saw your work, I thought you had to be a graduate student. I think that belief, that refusal to admit that someone younger than me could be so good at something I do day in and day out, prevented me from finding you. I’ve been trying to figure out who you are for months now. Dr Muher refused to introduce us, said something like we were too alike and would either bite each other’s heads off or . . .” Scott trailed off and cleared his throat, blinking away whatever memory came with what he just said, “All of that being said, I understand why you took what I said the way you did, especially here, at this school, but I would never devalue someone’s work based on their gender. What you heard in my voice wasn't misogyny. It was jealousy.”

A sudden wave of guilt washed over Aspen, causing her to hide her face again. She spent so many hours burning with hatred over him only to be wrong. “I guess I’m so used to being seen as someone who’s here to meet a rich man then do nothing with my degree once I graduate that I struggle to see people’s true intentions. And, there’s nothing wrong with doing that, but I’m just so tired of people seeing me and thinking they know my future while my male peers get asked what their aspirations are. Dr Muher is such an inspiration for me, and I felt so betrayed by her, like she was doing exactly what everyone else had. When I was in elementary and high school, I was in a STEM magnet school, and I felt so out of place, but when I’d go visit my grandmother in Oklahoma over the summers, I felt like I couldn’t belong there either. So, I’m sorry for my reaction. I think a lot of my anger was projection. But I am not sorry for the emotions I felt after."

Scott nodded, taking in her words. He extended a hand, “Truce?”

She wiggled her hand back into the sleeve of his jacket and shook it. “Truce.”

-

The door creaked and the elevator rumbled after a man shouted what Aspen thought was gibberish or possibly a German sneeze. SNECF. Her head shot up while Scott was already fully up and standing. She followed suit. The doors started to pry apart, the butt of a crowbar sticking out; whoever was prying was grunting with the amount of force it took. Scott kicked his steel toe boot into the crack the man made and positioned himself to push one side out, forcing the mechanisms in the elevator to open the other as well. The face of a plump man in a fire suit peered down at them. He was belly down on the ground, only a small sliver of the elevator was open to the 3rd floor. The rest of the door was blocked by the shaft.

He reached his hand out and waved her up, “Come on, Miss. We’ll get you up first.”

She abandoned her belongings but tried to take the jacket off herself to hand back to Scott but he shook his head, nodding in the direction of the fireman. “Least of my worries right now, come on, get up.”

She understood this was not a time for joking, nor was she in the mood for it, watching as Scott held open her only exit with his body. Aspen lifted her hands and the man took hold of her forearms, pulling her up with the help of another fireman. When she made it out, she felt like she entered a sauna. The heater on the third floor was working overtime, and she was thankful for it. She breathed out a sigh of relief, but her brow knit when she noticed the man who helped the fire chief get her out pick up an industrial fire extinguisher and take a few steps back from the elevator.

All she could see was Scott’s head, but through a tiny sliver of mirror she had access to, she saw a million versions of Scott take a shaky breath and reposition himself in the elevator doors, starfishing himself through them, palms out against the doors. Aspen looked between the two firemen, one who was not helping and another who was face to face with Scott and only held a crowbar between the doors. She quickly made her way over to the doors, but before she could grab a door and help keep it open, the man with the fire extinguisher grabbed her by the oversized jacket and flung her into the opposite wall with his full force. Her temple collided with the drywall, the thin material crumbing around her head as she collided with the stud. Scott leveled him with a glaze that Aspen couldn’t tell was anger or thanks. “If you two aren’t going to help, at least let me.”

“It is too dangerous, Miss.” The man who grabbed her said.

“You guys said you wouldn’t get us until it was clear.” She rubbed at her temple, grimacing as she pulled back and saw her hand coated in red.

No one responded.

Scott hoisted his legs up, holding the doors open with nothing but his hands and the crowbar, his knees rising to his chest. He took a second to breathe before lifting his legs to the patch of floor and sliding his body out, belly down on the floor. The second he let go, the doors snapped the crowbar in half with a ferocious thunder. Then the elevator fell down the shaft with a deafening crack, leaving a gaping hole in the wall. Aspen quickly wrapped her hands around Scott’s bicep, helping him off the floor, opting to not mention the bloody handprint she left on his shirt.

“Jesus Christ, you’re freezing cold.” Aspen immediately shrugged off his jacket and tried to hand it back to him. He dug in his pants pockets and pulled out a cloth, pressing it to her temple, hard. The two firemen were calling in the rest of UPD and whoever else the school deemed in need to handle the fallen elevator. The man who flung her earlier took position at one end of the hallway while the chief took position at the other to direct any passersby away.

He grabbed her by the shoulder with his free hand and walked her away from the gaping elevator shaft. He finally took his jacket from her as she took over applying pressure, sliding his arms through and trying not to react as the smell of cherry vanilla perfume filled his senses and as though there wasn’t a patch of her blood on the collar. Scott barely had time to zip his jacket back up before a man rounded the corner, shouting Scott’s name and title. It was clear he knew who was speaking; his feet shot together as he pivoted, his posture correcting itself, his chest puffing out, and his hands coming to his side.

Aspen took a step back as a man in his mid fifties approached. When he was about 6 steps away, he spoke again, “At ease, soldier.”

Scott’s hands came to rest behind his back and Aspen averted her eyes. It felt weird seeing Scott so obedient, so tame. Her wandering eyes found the elevator shaft; if she focused she could feel the cool breeze coming up it. It was pitch black in the gaping hole in the wall, the other elevator sitting pretty and untouched. No doubt there was caution tape already put up in the breezeway. She was certain that there would be crazy rumors about the incident on the school’s YikYak page.

But as she stared at the shaft, all her brain could play was different imagingings of Scott pulling himself out of there a second too late and going down with it. Her mind conjured up scenarios that made no sense: him headless, him bodiless, all different ways of him dead. All because he let her out first. She must’ve been staring for a while because when someone touched her arm, she blinked hard and turned to see Scott looking down at her. 

“Sergeant Miller, bring this lady to an urgent care. No school affiliated doctors.” He turned to walk away but hesitated, turning back to Scott. “Get yourself checked too, while you’re there. Report back to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

She tried to protest, but his commanding officer had turned to another soldier who came up, giving orders.

“You okay?” He glanced between her and the elevator shaft.

She gave a half-hearted smile and nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I think so. You really don’t have to bring me to urgent care. I’m fine. It’s just bleeding a lot because it’s on my temple.”

He pursed his lips, eyes flickering from hers to the drywall dust sitting in her hair and the roll of blood down her cheek. He didn’t think she was aware there was a strip of blood on the exposed stud. “I cannot ignore an order from a commanding officer.”

-

The urgent care physician had eyes the size of saucers when he was taking down the reason for this visit. He started with Scott who kept a clenched jaw and flared nostrils nearly the entire time. He received a clean bill of health and a hand written and signed note stating he was allowed to continue duty as needed. Aspen on the other hand was given a doctor’s note excusing her from classes for the rest of the week for a minor concussion, only after a few too-nosy questions.

“I do want you to avoid screens and long periods of staring at boards and notebooks, so I’ll write a note excusing you. But Miss, are you pregnant?”

“I was stuck in an elevator for four hours, not an orgy.” Aspen was annoyed. She had already told the nurse that she was not pregnant and had to deny a urine test.

Scott let out a choked sound in the back, but the doctor pushed. “Exposure to the cold for that long can have an effect on a fetus. Are you positive you’re not pregnant?”

Aspen let out a scoff of disbelief. “Exposure to the cold that long can have an effect on me. How many times do I have to say I’m not pregnant until I’m believed? So unless you’re about to get on your knees and pray over my virgin womb for the second coming of Christ, then just write the fucking note.”

Scott gave her the keys to his truck once the doctor finally discharged them. He swiped his card as she climbed into his passenger seat. He joined her a minute later, their printed visit notes in hand. He handed her hers and she glanced over it and snorted before reading out loud, “Miss Lee presents to the clinic today with complaints of a possible concussion and extended cold exposure. Voiced complaints of mild double vision, ringing in bilateral ears, and nausea. Denies any slurred speech. Upon examination has poor eye tracking ability and has laceration on left temple. Cleaned and bandaged.”

“Sounds normal.”

“Yeah, until: Patient is argumentative and vulgar. Pregnancy status remains unknown.”

Scott took his hand off the gearshift, turning to her. “No way.” He’d glanced over his report earlier and the doctor had referred to him as ‘pleasant,’ something he hadn’t been called since his great-grandmother was alive.

Aspen held out the paper for him.

“You’re sure?”

She let out a belly laugh, shaking the paper for him to grab, “I think we were one more ‘are you pregnant?’ away from you watching me have a pap smear. No, I don’t care if you look.”

Scott looked over the report, “I’m taking you to a different urgent care.”

She waved her hand to dismiss the idea, adjusting in her seat to try and escape the beaming sun that came from behind a cloud. He reached out and pulled down the visor before producing a pair of sunglasses. “I’m fine.”

“If MIT sees this, they’re going to try and weasel out of any blame. You need to see a doctor that isn’t going to write off valid points as you being argumentative.”

She inspected the sunglasses, trying to tell if they were actually going to stop UV rays. “If MIT wants me to piss in a cup to prove my unborn child didn’t stop the elevator, I will. But right now I just want my bed.”

“You need to see a-”

She turned to him, fast. “What I need right now is to be alone because quite frankly everytime I see your face my brain plays the sight of you almost dying this morning all because you let me out first. I am holding onto my composure with the thinnest thread of humor right now. Please just take me home.”

She turned back in her seat and put the sunglasses on, hoping it would hide the welling tears in her eyes. Scott didn’t quite know how to react, so he just let her direct him to an apartment building near campus. When he parallel parked, she took a deep breath and went to take the sunglasses off.

“Keep them.”

She lowered her hand back down. “I just realized all of our stuff was in that elevator.”

“I’ll see if anything was salvaged and see if I can get it to you. You have a way to get in?”

“Yeah, my roommates don’t have class until 10, so at least one should be there. I’m in that one.” She pointed to a window on the 3rd floor with a Christmas tree in the window despite the fact it was nowhere near the season for it. A beat of silence passed. Aspen couldn’t find the courage to look at him. “Thank you. For everything, I-”

He held his hand out. “Don’t.”

More silence followed that Aspen didn’t know if it meant she was to leave.

“See you next Monday?”

She gave a small smile before nodding, “Yeah, I guess see you next Monday.”

-

She was freshly showered and no longer smelling like Scott Miller’s stupidly attractive cologne. She swiped open her phone and lowered the brightness, busying her mouth with biting her thumb nail, and typed in what she hoped was the spelling of what she now knows was a command.

SNECF

Nothing besides a few Polish articles about sunscreen.

SNECF command

Nothing aside from dog training and a targeted ad about Polish sunscreen.

SNECF military

Jackpot. But in a bad way. Aspen locked her phone when she saw it and processed what it meant. 

SAFETY NOT ESTABLISHED, CIVILIANS FIRST. This command is given amongst first responder and military personnel when a situation may be dire or serve as a threat to life and/or property, but civilians are present and informing them of said situation may cause panic that would worsen or in some way prohibit the ability of personnel to adequately perform safety evacuations or further assessments.

-

She saw Scott before the next Monday. He knocked on her door three days later. One of her roommates opened the door and waved him in. He wasn’t sure if that meant this girl had no sense of self preservation or if that meant Aspen had explained what he looked like - or possibly even shown the horrible photo of him on the MIT ROTC webpage - to them. The apartment was clean, if a little dilapidated. They had a small Roku TV as the centerpiece of the living room, a tapestry of a shirtless Marvel or DC or some other superhero pinned above the couch with thumbtacks. The area above the cabinets in the kitchen were decorated with empty liquor bottles. It reminded him of the house he shared in undergrad. “She’s in the room with the pink door.”

Sure enough, down the hall, there was a room with a hot pink door decorated with My Little Pony stickers. It didn’t seem to match any of the other door styles in the apartment and didn’t fit in the doorframe currently. The edges of it were sawed and sanded down poorly. He knocked.

Aspen’s voice responded. “Why’d you knock? Just come in.”

Scott assumed she thought he was one of her roommates. It wouldn’t have been fair to walk in. “It’s Scott.”

Shuffling ensued, but after a few moments the door opened to Aspen, still dressed in her pajamas. She gave an uneasy smile, “Hi.”

Scott held up her backpack and smirked, his dimple popping, as he tapped her door with his knuckle, “Hi Pinkie. I was able to convince UPD to give your things back from evidence.”

“My roommate’s boyfriend fell through my door, and I got the Landlord Special. Be careful, Pinkie Pie will give you a splinter.” She took her bag from his hand and opened the door more to let him in. She sat on the edge of her bed, motioning for him to sit wherever. He opted for her desk chair. Aspen pretended to not notice the way his legs spread and his arms crossed. “UPD has an evidence locker?”

“It was mostly confiscated scooters, but yes.”

“God, the only thing UPD does that benefits this campus is infiltrate the scooter gangs. I shouldn’t have to fear for my shins walking to class.”

“They do also save people from elevators.”

She snorted, still sorting through her bag to make sure everything was there and undamaged. “The fire department did that.”

“Then the fire department threw you into a wall so hard you cracked the drywall and got a concussion.”

“My mother would classify that as a symptom of my hard-headedness.”

“She’s got that right.” He muttered. Scott was met with an attempted pillow to the head. Instead, it grazed him and knocked down her pencil cup. He pivoted in the spinny chair to clean it up and to gather his thoughts as he was once again clouded by her scent. He should’ve just given the backpack to her roommate and left, but no - he needed to see her. And good thing he had.

“Just know that hit the other you I see.”

His brows furrowed. For a mild concussion, she should’ve been far on the mend by now. The weeklong excuse was liberal to ensure she was fully healed. “Still have double vision?”

He turned back to her after putting the cup back in order. She shrugged, placing her laptop back in its home at the charging dock on her nightstand. “Nothing worse, just continuous symptoms. double vision is only for stuff not in front of my face, though.”

“So most things on Earth?”

She placed a finger to her lips and shushed him. She went back to looking through her bag, squinting at different items such as chapstick and lip gloss. The room was only illuminated by a floor lamp by her bed, casting the entire room in a warm glow. That response wasn’t good enough for him; he stood from his spot and walked over to her, arms crossed as he hovered over her. When his shadow cast over her, she looked up, head tilting all the way back to take him in. He held a small flashlight in his hand that he produced from one of his many pockets. “Hello?”

“Let me see your eyes.”

She jokingly tucked her hair behind her ear. “At least buy me dinner first.”

“Aspen.”

She gave a little pout but repositioned herself so her feet were touching the floor as he widened his stance to bring himself closer to her. He reached a hand out but stopped short of her jaw. “Are you okay if I touch you?”

She nodded, too nervous to give him her usual snarky comeback. She had curled herself into his jacket in a broken down elevator and was half asleep in his passenger seat after the urgent care, but this was somehow the most intimate moment the two shared. His hand was warm and calloused, rough against the skin Scott was sure she had a 10 step skin care regimen to maintain. He turned the small flashlight with the other hand to the lowest setting he could manage. He slowly ran the light over her eyes, watching her left pupil fail to shrink, staying wide. He tried to ignore the two butterfly bandages on her temple. When he finally let her go, she could barely see his jaw tense amidst the white splotches in her vision from the light. She blinked and looked around the room, trying to escape the splotches but they followed wherever she looked until they dissipated a few moments later.

“You need to go to the doctor again. A real office, not an urgent care. ER preferably.”

She huffed, “Not this again.”

“Really? ‘Not this again?’ Your concussion is bad. You need a CT scan.”

She laughed out loud at that; his expression stayed serious. She held her hands out around her room. “I can’t afford to live in an apartment where I have a normal bedroom door. You think I can afford an ER visit for them to tell me that I need to rest for the next couple of days?”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“What? No. I’m fine. And speaking of-” She reached to dig in her bedside drawer, producing a wad of twenties. She held it out to him. “For the urgent care copay.”

He shook his head, his arms crossed across his chest. “It was $60 dollars. And I’m definitely not taking your money for it when I think that doctor’s a total quack.”

She ran a hand through her hair, “Please take the money, Scott.”

“Not unless you go to the ER.”

She leveled him with a stare. “I’m not saying this to be difficult. I do not think I need to go to the ER. My symptoms haven’t gotten worse, just persisted, which isn’t unheard of from what my Harvard premed roommate tells me. They check on me periodically and make sure I haven’t asphyxiated in my own vomit. Please just take my word.”

He took a deep breath through his nose to ease his emotions. He didn’t understand why he was so concerned about this girl he considered his number one pain in his ass a mere 4 days ago. All he said was “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a business card that had his name and ROTC office phone and scribbled his personal phone number on the back and placed it on her nightstand, next to a full glass of water and a pack of gum. “Call if anything happens.”

She blinked at him, reclining back on her palms on the bed. “Where do you get these things from? A cloth, then a flashlight, now a business card? And you kept your wallet in your pocket and not in your duffle bag that day. Very convenient. Very Mystery Mousekatool of you.”

“It’s called being in the military. Everyone should have that on them, sans business card.” He took a seat back at the edge of the bed, showing he was only staying for a few more minutes.

Aspen nodded. “Speaking of being in the military, why’d you join?”

“As you so eloquently put it, my name’s not on a fucking building. And Kansas isn’t really known for its rich families who can send their kids to MIT as legacies.”

She sighed, understanding all too well. She readjusted to recline against her pillows. “Too bad you didn’t get stuck in an elevator before the recruitment officer found you. I got a refund check for the semester’s tuition already, along with a promise of all-costs-covered for the next three semesters.”

He sat with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “You civilians have it so easy. I got a letter stating it was a ‘hazard of the job’ for me, so they will be providing a refunded copay for the urgent care visit that may take 6 to 8 weeks to process.”

She had to suck in her lips to keep from laughing out of shock. The two talked for another few minutes, Scott skirting the topic of what he reported back to his commanding officer (there was no way he was going to tell her that his captain asked how his “girlfriend” was doing and when informed that they were in no way a couple, was told “she should be - she makes you a lot nicer”). They got a few more subjects in before Scott noticed her responses getting slower and mumbled, her eyes fluttering open and closed, fighting sleep until she couldn’t. He quietly stood and turned her lamp off, making sure not to touch the edge of the door before he shut it behind himself.

The same girl he saw earlier was still in the kitchen, prepping her dinner. Another girl in maroon scrubs sat in the chair at the bar, a piece of pizza in one hand as she scrolled on her phone in the other. Both girls glanced at him when he closed the door before making eye contact with each other, having a silent conversation that Scott knew was about him. He figured if they were already talking about him, it didn’t hurt to interject. “Has she been doing okay?”

The first girl pointed her knife at the girl in scrubs, deferring to her. She put her pizza slice down in the box. She nodded as she finished chewing. “Yeah, for the most part. But if her symptoms stay this prominent for another day or two, I’m taking her to the ER.”

He raised his eyebrows, feigning as though he hadn’t tried to talk her into going a few minutes earlier. “ER?”

“I’m more concerned about the vomiting and nausea. She can’t keep anything down. I’m scared she’s dehydrated.”

“If she needs to go, call me, my number is on her nightstand. I’ll take her. I can tell them what happened.”

She tried to subdue her lifting brows and growing smirk. “Will do.”

Luckily, Aspen was on the mend the next day, her vision combining into one big picture again and her nausea slowly subsiding. She was back in class the next Monday and back in Dr Muher’s class for the first time in a while. Students murmured when she walked in, but settled quickly. She gave Scott a smile and took her usual spot four rows back and eight seats in. As Scott graded papers during the class, he found himself searching the faces of the massive class, continuing to land on Aspen’s, except instead of trying to incinerate the other with their gazes, she gave a small smile before turning back to the lecture. After everyone filed out, Dr Muher walked over to his desk, her heels clicking deafeningly on the tile floors. “I told you so.”

Scott fixed her with one of his famous glares.

She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Just remember what I said, you’ll-”

He shooed her away with his hand. “‘-either bite each other’s heads off or get married.’ Yeah, yeah, I remember.”

[californiaboytoybilly]

Chasing Shadows (in the grocery line)

This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! (@harringrove-relay-race)✨

I was passed the baton by the lovely @imsodishy, and I'm honored to close out the relay race with this piece. I've loved seeing all the beautiful creations coming out of this event and I'm blushing at even being considered alongside creators like these. summary:

What had he done to deserve this?

Billy's chest grew cold and achy as he stared at a tousled blonde head of hair, looking at his mother for the first time in years. Except she wasn’t his mother. Just a woman who could be her long-lost twin, if not for the color of her eyes — a cold gray compared to his mother’s ocean blues. tags: pre-relationship, post s2, panic attacks, implied/referenced child abuse, billy sees a woman who looks like his mother and doesn't handle it well, steve harrington is a sweetheart, emotional hurt/comfort, billy hargrove needs a hug word count: 3.4k

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Hawkins Indiana had been personally designed to be Billy’s own realm of hell, he was sure of it. 

It had been one thing to shoulder the previous levels of misery this town had to offer. The simpering girls with jelly spines in their pastel sweater sets and Indiana’s hilly, woodsy stretches of land with not a drop of saltwater in sight. Did it matter that every single house looked like it had been popped out of one of three molds? He only had to tolerate this place until the day he turned eighteen, at which point he intended to jump in his car and drive until he got back to California. 

It wasn’t worth bothering to ask why he would have earned such a punishment. He was at least self-aware enough to know he wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of kindness and social grace- he was sure plenty of people had quietly wished him to fall into the flames on more than one occasion. 

But this… what had he done to deserve this?

His chest grew cold and achy as he stared at a tousled blonde head of hair, looking at his mother for the first time in years. 

Except she wasn’t his mother. 

Just a woman who could be her long-lost twin, if not for the color of her eyes — a cold gray compared to his mother’s ocean blues.

His breath caught in his throat, bile lingering on the back of his tongue, but he couldn’t look away. It was like the supermarket tiles had grown vines, wrapped around his legs until he couldn’t have moved even if he’d been on fire. 

The woman was around the same age his mother had been the last time he’d seen her, too. Her face was youthful, untouched by age or stress or misery. Features soft in a way only reminiscent of the version of Dianna Hargrove that came out when Neil was away. 

The pounding of his heart was making him dizzy, the woman he couldn’t tear his gaze from utterly oblivious to the damage she was doing to him on a molecular level by simply existing here, in this place, at the same time as him. 

Panic was creeping up his throat- or maybe he was going to be sick. That was also a strong possibility. His vision was starting to pulse at the edges. He needed to get out of here; he needed to—

A hand clasped down on his shoulder, warm and firm, and Billy couldn’t control the violent flinch it earned from him. The hand moved immediately at the jolt, lifting in a gesture of surrender. 

Wild blue eyes followed the arm attached to the hand towards its owner. He took in spattered moles that itched at his brain but couldn’t quite connect why through the wash of panic until he turned his gaze up the rest of the way. 

Steve Harrington stared at him with eyes that were too soft, too big and concerned. He wasn’t used to seeing that expression on Harrington’s face and the perceived pity made him bristle. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” He muttered, but it lacked the bite that may usually have been present. Billy hated the way his voice trembled like a scared little kid, keeping his gaze as far away from the dairy aisle as he could now. 

Harrington paused, brows furrowing in the middle, and he let out a little sigh in response to Billy’s order. Less irritated by his attitude than normal, more resigned, like a toddler had poured juice on his shoe. He wiggled his fingers as though in reminder that they were nowhere near Billy now, which made the blonde grit his teeth together. 

Then- in a voice a little too gentle- he spoke up. “Sorry if I made you jump. Just ah… looked like you were going to barf. Thought I’d make sure that you were–”

“I’m fine.” Billy interrupted, but the last syllable was weak, to say the least. “I’m fine, I have to go.” He dropped his full basket on a nearby shelf, ducking past Steve as his cheeks started to burn red with humiliation.

He’d be lucky if Neil didn’t kick his ass for not getting the groceries like he was instructed, but he couldn’t stay in this store even one minute longer if he wanted to preserve even a shred of his pride. Bruises would heal, they always did. 

At the door, in his hurry to get out, he almost smacked right into one of Susan’s friends. Cindy, if he wasn’t mistaken, was a brunette with hair bigger than a minivan and a gossiping tendency to match.  

“Well hello there, Billy.” She said in a sickeningly sweet voice, unknowingly just barely avoiding being told to fuck off. He had to remind himself that if he did, she’d run home and tell Susan and then he’d have a lot more problems than a panic attack and a few bruises to deal with today. 

He greeted her kind of flatly in response, but tried to smooth his face into something less shaken and more charming when she raised an eyebrow at his tone. “How’s the husband?” He tried again, even if his lungs still felt like they were in a vice grip.

She sighed dramatically with an eye-roll. “Probably sleeping in his recliner, as usual. Pretty sure he’d rot in that thing if he didn’t have to get up to eat.” 

Billy regretted asking immediately but nodded sympathetically, internally begging her to just fuck off and go do her shopping already. “Can’t live with him, can’t live without him, huh?” 

Cindy scoffed and twirled her hair, eyeing him a moment too long. “Oh, I’d do just fine without him. Unfortunately, the house is in his name.” 

Billy inched towards the door, just barely shuffling his feet an inch at a time to put more space in between them. Just when he was trying to think of an excuse to leave without having to pretend he cared about her shitty marriage, another shrill voice called out her name and she spun to find them.

Sandy, not Cindy. At least he didn’t actually call her by the wrong name out loud. 

Using her distraction, Billy all but threw himself through the glass doors and walked as fast as he could towards the alleyway between the store and the hair salon next door. An employee in a red store vest was smoking a cigarette against the wall, but Billy’s fracturing grip on his emotions must’ve resulted in a slightly terrifying expression on his face.

Dropping his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out, the teen- who Billy thought he vaguely recognized from school- faux casually booked it out of the other side of the alley before Billy had to yell at him to do so. 

Finally alone, Billy dropped down to sit on the red metal bench they’d thrown back here to rust away and put his head in his hands. It was barely three seconds before a strangled sound, not entirely unlike a sob, dragged itself painfully out of his throat, his shoulders curling into a hunch. 

With his eyes closed, he saw the woman again. The way the fluorescent lighting had sat so harshly on her corn-silk hair, the glint of silver rings on slender fingers. A shudder rolled down Billy’s spine as the version of her in his mind's eye turned to face him, eyes blue now instead of gray. 

“Billy, baby? Is that you?” She said so softly, voice lilting in surprise. She reached out a hand towards him, her own basket dropping to the too-white tiles as the eyes she shared with him welled up with tears and–

“Hey!” She spoke again, but her voice was lower. Too deep, not her voice at all. It wasn’t until the third repetition that the illusion shattered, careful footsteps on the concrete snapping him free. Billy’s head shot up immediately, pulse picking up speed, only to see Steve Harrington once again. 

“Don’t you have anywhere better to be?!” Billy snapped, his bitter attitude flaring up to protect the oozing, throbbing hole that had been torn straight through his abdomen. “Or are you so fucking obsessed with me that you’ve decided to follow me around and be a pain in my–” 

“Damn it, Hargrove. Just… take a breath. I’m not going to fight you.” Steve sighed and moved closer, like he wasn’t even a little afraid of Billy’s temper. As though Billy hadn’t left him a bloody, bruised mess in a fit of anger barely six months prior.

“What do you want, Harrington? I’m not in the mood.” He said finally, all the fury draining from his voice. He just didn’t have the energy to fight right now.

He was tired and sad, his chest felt empty, and he missed his fucking mom.

“I know you said you were fine, but you’re clearly not.” Steve said, hovering around the edge of the bench. He shifted back on his heels, heavy-looking plastic bags dangling from his fingers. The tears he’d shed embarrassed Billy. He could feel them clinging to his cheeks, but he couldn’t stop them from falling even now and it was too late to hide them. 

“Why do you care?” Billy muttered bitterly. “I’m an asshole to you. You hate me, I… I hate you.” That last one was a lie, and he knew it, but he wasn’t willing to acknowledge that to himself right now. “Shouldn’t you find this funny?” 

Steve set the bags down, using his knee to nudge Billy out of the way before sitting down on the bench like he belonged there. Billy eyed him warily, lip hauled between his teeth now. 

“Who said I hate you?” Steve said, tone still soft but with an edge like a teacher asking him for the date in history that the Old White Man of the Week had died. Billy felt any answer he may have so much as considered die in his throat. 

“And even if I did hate you- which I don’t- I still wouldn’t find you being miserable funny.” Billy wanted to protest the description of his mood, but it was more accurate than he wanted it to be. 

Eventually he managed a half-reply, “Didn’t mean you had to follow me.” 

Steve shrugged and settled further into the bench, leg just barely pressing against the blonde’s own. “Yeah well. Like you said before, I had nothing better to do.” There was a small smile audible in his voice, and when Billy peeked back over at him, he figured out that Steve was trying to lighten the mood. 

He didn’t exactly know that Billy was bleeding out beside him in slow-motion, so he had no way of knowing a joke wouldn’t patch it up. But the attempt was… oddly nice, even if Billy was still struggling to accept his presence as genuine at all.

“Just having a shitty day. It doesn’t matter.” Billy breathed, turning his gaze towards the gravel-strewn alley ground once more. A soggy flyer was balled up by his feet, which he aimed a kick at to get some of his tension out. It bounced off the rim of a rusted coffee can full of cigarette butts and then rolled off down the alley. 

Beside him, Steve made a buzzer sound under his breath and even as his chest gave another dull throb, Billy found himself snorting a quiet laugh. 

“I can still kick your ass on the court, missed shot or not.” Billy said defiantly, but his voice conveyed an attempt at reciprocated humor, even if it sounded a little flat. Steve just shrugged again. 

“Eh, you’ve got me there.” The brunette acquiesced instead of even playfully fighting him and damn it all, why the hell did that have heat flooding back into Billy’s cheeks? 

He knew why, but again, now was not the time. 

“Can’t believe Steve Harrington spends time buying his own groceries. What, give the staff a day off?” Billy said before Steve could inadvertently compliment him again, picking at the skin of his palm as a tactile distraction. 

“These aren’t mine actually, and believe it or not, I clean my own house, too. I know, shocking.” Steve drawled in a dry, light tone. Had he shifted closer? Billy could swear that he could feel more of Steve’s leg against his own than he had a minute ago. 

“You do grocery shopping for other people?” Billy cocked his head. That was an even more bizarre concept, for some reason. 

Steve shook his head, but his answer was no less cryptic. “Not often, just… sometimes I make an exception.” 

“Ooookay.” 

They both trailed off, silence creeping into the alleyway once again. Billy wasn’t sure when he stopped crying, but when he lifted a hand to wipe at his eyes, his face was dry. 

Maybe Steve wasn’t a horrible distraction.

Billy opened his mouth to speak, anything to fill the silence. He’d always liked silence; silence was the opposite of everything home was. But for some reason, he hated it right now. 

The problem was simple- what did he even say? He was still residually embarrassed and worn out. They’d never had a genuinely friendly conversation before- and Billy doubted this one counted as that either, at least not at the beginning- and he was genuinely grasping at mental straws trying to find a topic. 

Hey man, while we’re having a somewhat normal conversation, mind telling me what was in that syringe my shitbird sister stabbed me with? 

Also, I just casually hallucinated my mother in the grocery store because hey, if there’s a God, he loves taking his morning shit in my cereal. 

Yeah, he was sure that would go over super well. 

Billy’s hand lifted to rub over the spot on his neck that the needle had gone into, a slight shiver running down his back. That had been a weird fucking night. 

Steve seemed to notice his movement, because he turned his body towards Billy a little more. Billy suddenly felt very observed, and he shifted in place before digging into his pocket for a cigarette. 

As he inhaled a deep drag, he felt a little of the rigidness leave his posture. Even with the blonde woman still faintly burned into the edge of his vision, it was helping considerably. 

“Hey uh…” Steve started, then trailed off. He clearly also didn’t know how to break the silence between them. “Are you going to Jennifer’s party?” He said finally. 

Billy couldn’t help but smile at the obvious grasp of a topic, letting smoke curl out between his teeth. “Nah. I have to babysit.”

The displeasure in his voice was obvious. Even if he and Max were still in a weird, post-syringe purgatory phase of their hot and cold relationship, he didn’t exactly enjoy sitting at home and doing fuck all nothing but trying to keep her from sneaking out again. 

“Max?” Steve probed, but it barely sounded like a question. 

Billy raised an eyebrow at him. “You think I’d willingly watch any other snot-nosed kid in this town? If I needed money that badly, I think I’d be happier scrubbing out public toilets with a toothbrush.”

Steve choked on a laugh, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. Billy may be a little into the way he looked when he was angry, but he was unfairly attractive when he smiled like that. Fuck. It made Billy want to piss him off just so his brain stopped turning all useless and fuzzy. 

“Mm, yeah, that’s fair. Can’t really imagine you playing tea party.” 

Billy made a disgusted sound, forcing himself to look away from that smile. “Yeah, I’m good. No thanks.”

Steve rubbed his palms on his jeans, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “I should… get going.” He said apologetically, getting to his feet. “I have to get to… uh. Well, a job interview. At that new mall that just opened up.” He scrunched his face, looking disinterested in the concept as a whole. 

Clearly, this job interview wasn’t his idea.

Billy attempted to conceal his disappointment with the loss of body heat at his side, already sensing a small amount of the calm that had settled into his chest fading away. He cleared his throat. “Alright..”

Steve looked at him for a moment longer, then glanced over his shoulder towards the opening to the alley. Was Billy imagining things, or did he look as disappointed as Billy felt?

Though trying to get the words out felt like dragging a sandbag through four feet of water, Billy eventually managed to get out a quiet- “Thanks… for ah- coming out here.” He said slowly, not looking anywhere close to Steve while he did so. He heard a quiet hum in response.

Steve was smiling again when he looked back up and Billy felt that damn fuzziness start creeping back into place. Fucking Harrington and his stupid, pretty smile. 

“Not a problem…” Steve said, sounding genuine. “For… what it’s worth, I hope your day gets a little better.” Billy had to bite his tongue not to laugh sarcastically at the sentiment. He knew deep down it would only get worse. 

But he’d long since gotten used to evading the truth when it came to stuff like this. 

“I’m sure it will.” He lied, fingernails biting into the palm of his hand. 

Steve didn’t look convinced, the corners of his lips twitching downwards. If he did know Billy was lying, he chose not to call him out. Billy appreciated it. He’d already been far more vulnerable in the last half an hour than he liked. 

“I’ll… see you around, Billy.”

Billy. Not Hargrove or an insulting name. He was Billy now. It made his nerves skitter sparks, fingers twitching. 

Steve started to walk away, slipping his hands into his pockets. It was that movement that made Billy realize something. “Hey, Steve–”

The brunette turned to look back at him, waiting. 

Billy gestured lamely to the grocery bags on the ground. “You forgot your bags.” 

Steve looked a little red in the face, but he simply shrugged. “Like I said… they aren’t my groceries.” Then, like he hadn’t just thoroughly confused Billy, he left the alley entirely and vanished around the corner. 

Regardless of whether they were his or not, he was sure whoever Steve had been shopping for would’ve liked to actually get their groceries. He was surprised he had even managed to get all this. Wasn’t his basket basically empty when he’d approached Billy in the store...?

Billy blinked, eyes snapping to the bags on the ground with a new level of focus. Steve’s basket had had nothing but a jar of sauce in it. He was sure of that now. There were far too many bags sitting around his feet for Steve to have had time to get all of it and go through the checkout in the time Billy had been held up by Sandy at the doors. 

He hesitantly reached down to the one nearest his foot, pulling it open. As he scanned the contents, Susan’s grocery list flashed through his mind. By the second bag, his mouth was hanging open a little, and he abruptly realized what Steve had done all at once. 

“What the fuck?” He muttered, a little breathless. 

Steve had bought his groceries for him. He’d grabbed Billy’s full basket off the shelf, and he’d gone and fucking–

Billy’s face pinched into something conflicted as he tried to battle back the wash of confusing emotions now flooding through his body, fingers shaking slightly on the handle of the bag. Relief, gratitude, confusion, and something soft and warm and terrifying. 

Without even knowing the punishment that would’ve awaited him when he came home empty-handed, Steve had waltzed right in and somehow saved him from it.

He looked back towards the opening of the alley, even though he knew Steve was long gone now, with a dangerous fluttering taking over his chest. There was no coming back from this moment in time, that wave of warmth now far too strong to battle back even with his carefully honed talent of repression.

Steve Harrington had a terrible habit of messing up Billy’s plans- and brain- but this was a whole new level. This time, he’d gone straight for the heart.

Oh, Billy was so fucked. 

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 16

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: Rape, torture, gore, violence

Jetsam

Between ransacking the girls' extra clothes and collecting the pants owed to you, a decent outfit was finally made, complete with undergarments to boot! You had a dark-gray, sleeveless crop top, a pair of green, baggy pants with a lot of pockets, and some old, worn boots. You would have preferred if the pants were waist level. They sat low on your hips. Beggars can't be choosers. Honestly, you were surprised they were small enough to stay up on their own. In anticipation of getting your gun back, you also fastened your holster. You tied your hair back in a low pony to keep it from sticking to your face while you were working. 

Currently, you were fixing some knots halfway up in the rigging that weren't up to your standards while the sun beat down on your back. You had been avoiding Killer since yesterday. A few more days and you would be free to do as you wanted. 

"That's not your job, Rookie," Wire shouted up at you. 

You hopped to the deck with a solid thud. "Do you want the sails to break free? " You folded your arms. "Your deck crew needs work." 

Wire looked at you with an unreadable expression. "I'll double check them." He didn't trust you as a person. However, your deck work was immaculate. Wire knew he would probably find that you were right when he checked the ropes later. Even when he wanted to give you a hard time, there were no mistakes to harp on. "Captain requires your attendance in his workshop." Well, there was one mistake. Wire noticed that the knots you used on deck were the kind taught to marines. No pirate he knew tied knots like that. He almost pitied you, knowing you were walking into the lion's den.

Wiping your brow, you knocked on the door to Kid's workshop. You glanced towards Mini, who was sunning herself on the deck. There was a slew of metal tinkling sounds followed by a crash, then after a few curses, the captain's voice told you to come in. Looking around, there wasn't anything amiss. Must have cleaned it up with his Devil Fruit. "What do you want, Eustass? I'm busy keeping this ship afloat, since apparently no one else knows how." 

He gave you a funny look. "That so?" He tapped the corner of his workbench where your gunblade and log pose.

Your eyebrows shot up, shocked that he actually gave them back to you. You swapped out the glass eye you made with the log pose, after a quick spit-shine. Setting down the eye and picking up the weapon, you tested it in your hands. "You fucked with it."

"Hah?! I balanced it perfectly! Ya should be thanking me!" 

You frowned deeply. "Thanks for fucking it up. That better?" Flicking your wrist, you checked to see if it was loaded. It wasn't. "Didn't even load it for me," you mumbled. You spun it around your finger, nearly losing control. The weight was all wrong. You groaned and rolled your eyes. It was going to take practice to regain your finesse with it. You shoved it back in your holster and looked back at Kid, whose darkened eyes gave you a black look. This was different from other times he's glared at you, with playful, enticing, bright, embers. This made you uneasy. This made all the hair on the back of your neck stand up and your mouth to get dry. It was a foreign feeling, feeling like a prey animal. You were no longer questioning why he gave you back your weapon. It didn't comfort you to have it. What was it going to do against him? He only took it in the first place until he knew you would play nice with his crew. 

In a low voice, Kid asked, "How did ya fix Killer's mask?" He rolled the small glass eye around on the table. "And this.. ya made this. How?" He held it under his thumb, crushing it without much of an effort. 

Watching your right eye be pulverized under his thumb triggered something in you. Your fists tightened until your nails dug into your skin and your heart was pounding. How many pieces of you had to be destroyed? It was traumatic enough when it had been taken from you the first time. Your teeth clenched so tightly that your jaw popped. The frightened look in your face was replaced with a resolute one. "Why the fuck does it matter?! Nothing about me has anything to do with you or your crew, so stop trying to pry information out of me. All I wanted was to be taken off that island and put on a different one. I didn't do anything wrong! I didn't hurt anyone who didn't deserve it! Fuck sake, did I not save Killer's life? And do you want to know something else? I did it the same way I fixed his mask!"

"Oh, but yer mistaken," Kid taunted, getting up from where he sat and stalking towards you. "Ya did do somethin wrong." He wrapped his hand around your throat, in spite of you trying to block his hand, and pushed you against the door, hard. "Ya lied to Eustass 'Captain' Kid."

You threw a punch at him that was swiftly caught with a scrap of metal. The same thing happened when you tried to kick. "Go to hell! I CAN'T WAIT TO GET OFF THIS FUCKING SHIP!" You spat at him, struggling to get out of his grasp.

Kid's grasp tightened until you saw spots. "YA SPYING MARINE BITCH." The door gave way behind you. In only a matter of steps for him, you were at his mercy over the ocean as he held you by the throat above it. "Ya want off so bad?!" His lip curled. "FINE!" He didn't let go. A flash of uncertainty came across his expression. 

"Do it, coward." You had already done this song and dance once before. You weren't scared, disappointed that you didn't get to carry out your revenge, but not scared. It was hard to talk when you were barely getting enough oxygen as it was. "My name is F/N L/N." The brief interval where Kid processed that information was enough to wrap your unrestrained hand around the wrist holding you. There was a yellow flash at the contact and you were falling. Bull-headed until the end, you were going to go on your terms, not anyone else's. 

The water hit your back so hard that it seemed to burn your skin. Maybe it had peeled off, the way the chill seeped into your flesh and directly to the bone. Even if you could swim, the way the ocean sapped your energy left you unable to even hold the remainder of air in your lungs, which were already searing their way out of your chest. Silver bubbles pried themselves from between your lips. Less and less light was reaching your eyes as you sunk toward the blackness below. With your last conscious thoughts, you pictured Minerva and hoped they wouldn't hurt her.

You sat in the dark, on a damp floor, breathing heavily, but trying not to. Every labored breath caused blood to seep from the bullet holes in your side. You slipped from consciousness periodically, usually being brought back to something horrible being done to you. Once it was a knife being twisted into one of the bullet holes. Another time it was being kicked in the head, in the gut. Other times your pants were around your ankles and someone was on top of you. They learned quickly to stay away from your mouth, after permanently disfiguring someone's manhood. It was truly a blessing that you couldn't stay conscious for long. 

Your skin was more blue and purple than your actual skin tone. And even if there were unbruised areas, they were probably encrusted with the deep maroon color of old, dried blood. It was agony just to roll onto a different side of your body. It was impossible to say how long you had been down there, in the brig of your own ship. It was impossible to say how long your crew had been plotting against you, if or when they were bought off. You had to believe they were bribed somehow. To admit to yourself that maybe they weren't would be devastating. Did they hate you that much? Were they ever truly loyal? You had been asking yourself these questions throughout your misery.

Boot steps echoed in the hallway, getting louder as they approached. The creak of the cell door made you tense, unsure what to expect. You were jerked up by your hair and forced to look at the man in front of you, already made difficult by your nearly swollen shut eyes. It was Von Kossa. He wasn't the mastermind behind the clandestine trading operation you had unwittingly discovered, but he was the meanest of the upper ranking participants. 

"You know it's really a shame you're so much trouble." He ran his thumb over your bottom lip. "We could have sold you for a pretty penny," his grip on your hair tightened, bringing tears to your eyes. "But you can't behave and now you're starting to look quite unattractive, so it's not even worth keeping you alive." Keeping a tight hold of your hair, he dragged you through the open cell door and along the wooden floorboards, towards the deck. The wood scraped your skin. You could barely feel it since your body was in a constant state of pain anyway. "Your screams are just so satisfying, I think I'd like to hear them once more before you're gone. How's that sound?"

Your hands and feet were tied so you couldn't struggle, not that you had the will to. "Sounds bad, Captain Fuckass." The hoarseness of your voice startled you. His swift kick to your stomach had you vomiting blood. 

"See you just don't know when to quit." He made a noise of disgust. "Look what you've done. Got blood on my uniform." Red specks sprayed the white of his marine uniform. 

On deck there was a mix of what appeared to be pirates and marines. You knew now that it was a collection of purely marines. For an instant in time, maybe they had stopped being marines, though they were certainly back to their roots. Von Kossa had intercepted your ship, and you let him. What was unexpected was that the second you made a move to attack, your crew was not behind you. Physically, yes, they were behind you, and about to help subdue you. Figuratively, they stopped being behind you whenever Von Kossa had persuaded them to his side. 

He dragged you to a basin with some kind of liquid in it. You didn't want to guess at what it was. You knew you would find out shortly regardless. He lifted you up like a prize-winning fish. "Let this be a lesson to anyone who thinks they can interfere with our business. Even the 'Marine Killer', 'The Sea Snake', or as we know her Ex-Captain F/N L/N was only a mild hindrance. Look at her now: a worthless, ruined, shell of a person." He dropped you to your knees, coming to one knee himself next to you. 

The reflection you saw in the liquid was unrecognizable as you. It some other person there, some other person that was getting their head pushed down into it. So why was it you that felt excruciating, white-hot pain on half of your head? Was it the other person screaming or was it you? Your voice was so different, you couldn't tell. The pain vanished as quickly as it had appeared. You saw pieces of skin and floating Y/H/C tendrils in the liquid when you were pulled out, though not for long, as they disintegrated. Blinking, you tried to open your right eye. It was open, you felt with your fingertips. To your horror, it felt sticky, goo-like. There wasn't a lot of time to process what had just happened before blacking out. After that, you only remembered darkness, being cold, and then waking up on an island. 

Next

[slowburningechoes]

Sub! Spencer and making him wear a plug in public (bonus points if it vibrates and you have the remote 👀)

no words - except yes, yes I can // MINORS DNI!!!!!! cw: 18+ content (nsfw/nsfm), sub!spencer x dom!reader, pegging, exhibitionism, toy usage, ma'am/mommy kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, breeding, praise and degradation, anal stimulation, porn no plot word count: 1.7k

hushed

"I'll go slow, okay, baby?" you reassure, using your hand to gently part Spencer's ass cheeks.

"P-promise?" he whines beneath you, his legs already shaking from the thought of what was to come next.

"Yes, I promise, pretty boy," you say, pressing a trail of kisses down his spine before leaning up to coat your thumb with lube. "I'm going to start with my finger, okay? You just tell me if it's too much."

"Oh - okay, yes ma'am," Spencer agrees, bracing his forearms against the pillow propped under him.

You gently rub your coated thumb around the rim of his entrance, eliciting muffled cries from his lips. As you press your finger into him slowly, the most corrupt and guttural sounds fell from him. Spencer's body tensed up under your touch, so you massaged his lower back softly with your free hand.

"Relax," you comfort, slowly pushing into him further until he consumes you.

His whimpers are so pitiful, but they ignite something feral inside of you. You pump into him slowly, his backside moving with the same motion. Eventually, you feel his muscles relax and his cries turn from one of muted pain to hushed pleasure.

"I'm going to work it in now, alright?" you ask for his permission, grabbing the small item from beside you on the comforter.

"Y-yes, please," Spencer sobs, perking his backside up and spreading himself open with one of his hands.

That sight was almost enough to make you flip him over and use him like your own personal dildo, but you knew that he would look even prettier stuffed with the fancy new toy you had bought. You squirted the lube onto the narrow part of the plug before lining it up with his swollen hole

"Ready?" you inquire, wanting him to be fully prepared for the new pressure he would feel.

All Spencer could manage was a mumbled "mhm" and his hand reaching desperately for yours. As you intertwined your fingers with his, you pushed the glistening purple toy further into his entrance. Every centimeter caused Spencer to moan deeply, squeezing your hand tightly as he is stretched out more and more. As the plug bottomed out at the grip piece, he let out a sigh of relief.

"How do you feel, sweetheart?" you ask, admiring the view of him.

"G-good, so full," he whimpers, his words breathy.

"I'm going to turn it on now." you press down on the button in the center of the grip until a light beep sounds. "Sit up now, pretty boy."

Spencer gathers himself and begins to shift to an upright position, but he hesitates. "I-It's going to feel so strange, ma'am."

"I know," you console, "but you'll adjust, baby. Just think about how good the pain stings."

A hummed groan buzzes in his throat as Spencer sits up properly, "Fuck."

"Now," you reach to grab your phone from the bedside table, "let's see how it does."

You open the app connected to the plug via Bluetooth and move the vibration level to the mildest setting, but it is enough to make Spencer fold. His still-hard dick slaps up to his stomach and twitches and he bites down on his bottom lip firmly.

"It feels s-so good, mommy," he cries, gripping onto the comforter.

You can't help but smile devilishly at his struggle and you add another level to the vibration which elicits a sudden guttural moan. "Now you know you have to contain yourself when we're out at dinner, right?"

"Y-yes, yes ma'am," he sobs, looking at you with wide and needy eyes. "I'll try my best."

"You don't want your team to know how desperate you are, hm?" you tease. "Don't want them to know that you're stuffed with a plug and the stimulation is edging you close to coming in your pants."

"Holy shit - uhgn, no, I'll be good," Spencer says desperately.

"That's my good boy," you place a kiss on his cheek and turn off the vibration for a moment. "Now go get dressed."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Do you want something to drink, y/n?" Penelope asks cheerfully.

"Hm," you glance up at the waiter, "a negroni, please."

"Anything for you, sir?" the waiter looks to Spencer, who is trying so desperately to control himself with the low buzz massaging his prostate. "Sir?"

"Hm? Oh, n-no thank you," he blurts in response, downing a gulp of his water.

"Damn, you good?" Derek inquires jokingly, slapping Spencer on the back of his neck.

You look at your phone resting in your lap and begin to move the vibration back and forth from mild to moderate, which makes him gasp suddenly.

Embarrassed, his face flushes pink and he begins to talk quickly, "Yeah, I'm good - it's just a little crowded in here don't you think? I'm burning up."

"I'll say," Emily giggles. "Your cheeks are as red as a tomato."

The waiter returned with your negroni, which you sipped on before flashing Spencer a mischievous smirk and reducing the rhythm that stimulated him. His body instantly relaxed and it made conversation easy for the next ten minutes or so, until you saw the perfect opportunity to make him writhe.

"I think you've had enough, Emily," JJ insists, tipsy herself.

"No - no, I haven't even drank that much," Emily responds, bringing the wine glass back to her lips. "I'm fiiiiineeee."

"This is your fourth glass, Em. Spence, don't you have a statistic or something about alcohol consumption?" JJ queries, attempting to pry the glass from her grasp.

Oh, you wanted to see him fumble over his words for such a simple statistic so badly. As he opened his mouth, you begin to creep the vibration up slowly.

"On average," he's off to a strong start, "the typical bottle of wine holds..." he pauses as the buzz begins to massage inside of him stronger. "a-about five glasses, but consuming t-two within an hour is enough to produce a BAC above... the legal-"

Before he can finish the last word, the level reaches the threshold of "high" and Spencer shoots up from his chair suddenly.

"You sure you're good, pretty boy?" Derek asks, genuinely concerned this time.

The uncorrupted usage of the nickname and the stimulation was enough to make Spencer go stiff. "Uh - yes, bathroom. Be right back."

You couldn't help but to take into account his cock rigid in his khaki pants before he took off for the back hallway.

"Whatever the hell that was about," Rossi chuckled.

"I think I'll go check on him," you state, sitting your napkin onto the table and walking in the direction that Spencer went.

Only one of the two private restrooms was open, so you knew he was in the one that was locked.

You knocked firmly against the heavy door and called out to him. "Spencer? Spencer, baby, it's me."

The door swings open quickly and he yanks you inside by your forearm before you can even fully process the motion. When you are stable, you look at him up and down, realizing he had stripped himself of his pants. His heather gray boxer briefs barely held in his erection and precum had stained the fabric.

"P-please, I'm so close," Spencer begs, palming himself.

"Oh, poor thing," you comfort. "Did you almost cum in your pants?" You move to replace his hand with yours, his length filling your hand.

"Y-yes," he sighs, relieved at the attention you were giving him.

"Mmmm, you did a good job, baby," you kiss along his neck. "I think I'll let you cum inside me."

"Fuck - yes, please mommy," Spencer mumbled, hiking your dress up in the back and gripping your ass cheek.

You quickly strip your underwear to the ground and kick them to the side, moving to sit on top of the sink counter. Spencer follows behind you and pumps his bare cock in his hand before lining the tip up with your soaked entrance.

"You're already so wet," he said breathlessly.

"I like seeing you squirm," you tease, spreading your legs open further for him. "I love being in control."

"And I love you being in control, ma'am. God, it felt so fucking good," Spencer agreed before sucking gently on your neck and sliding himself into you.

He filled you perfectly, making restrained moans fall from both of you. Spencer thrusted into you gently at first, but as the vibration inside of him made his orgasm creep closer, he picked up the pace. You couldn't help but thread your fingers into his chocolate waves and scrape your fingers down his back as he fucked up into you and made such desperate noises.

"Ma'am," he managed to huff out. "I'm about to cum. Can I? Can I please?"

You couldn't resist him when he begged like that. "Y-yes, pretty boy. You can cum for me. Empty yourself in me, baby."

As he reached his climax, his thrusts became deeper but sloppier. The hushed mix of groans and curse words fell from his lips and buried into your neck. You reached down to stimulate your clit as he coated your walls with his cum, motivating your own high shortly after his. You threw your head back and tightened your walls around him as you came, pulling every last drop of his seed from him. Your entire body was warm with pleasure and your clit was numb from all the stimulation. The same was true for Spencer, the buzzing still continuing to vibrate against his prostate which drew more cum from him than he expected.

After he removed himself from you, you turned off the stimulation from the app and moved to kiss him deeply.

"You did so good, baby," you assure, rubbing his flushed cheeks.

"It felt amazing," Spencer said in agreement. "Being full of a plug, the vibration, having to contain myself -"

"Well, I definitely want to try it out again sometime," you smirk up at him.

"Whenever you want, ma'am," he offered like the good submissive he is.

"That's good to know. Now, we've got to get dressed and get back out there. I may be done with using the vibration, but remember that you're still stuffed with a toy, naughty boy."

"Fuck, trust me, I won't forget," he leans down to kiss you once more. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too, sweetheart," you concur, placing a stinging spank against his ass before walking out of the bathroom pantyless.

"God, you're going to be the death of me," you catch him say before the door shuts behind you.

requests are open!

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

https://www.tumblr.com/sokkastyles/635072206757560320/azula-and-the-mirror?source=share

I love your analysis, I'm very interested to hear your thoughts on this post.

As usual with this motherfucker, their bias shows pretty fast.

"People read it as a sympathetic moment for Azula, but I'd say it's toxic" Newflash: it's both. Yes, she made Ty Lee cry by being mean. But she holds all the power in that relationship. She can just tell Ty Lee to stop making a scene and Ty Lee would obey.

Instead Azula apologizes, something she rarely does, because she genuinely felt bad. And while Azula likes being praised, she does NOT like being comforted, because comfort implies that she failed somehow or was weak enough to let something get to her. There's a reason she immediatelly dismisses her own confession about her issues with her mom with "she was right of course" and saying that she "doesn't have sob stories.

Azula. Doesn't. Like. Pity. How could she? She was raised by freaking Ozai. Her admiting her jealousy towards Ty Lee is part of the episode's theme of "Ember Island reveals your true self." Behind that selfish, cruel, egotistical princess, there's a confused, lonely, insecure child, much like there's a frightened, hurt young boy hiding behind Zuko's hostile exterior.

"We will never know what Ursa herself really, truly thought about Azula"

Except we do. We see her spending alone time with Zuko, but not with Azula. We see her explaining to Zuko what he did wrong when he threw a huge chunk of bread at a turtleduck, hurting it, but with Azula is just "We don't speak like that" and "Not another word" followed by "What is wrong with this child?" Ursa's character description even full on states Zuko is her FAVORITE.

If we take the comics into account, it's even worse. We see Azula burning flowers to anger her mother so she would stop paying attention solely to Zuko, and Ursa reacts like she just killed someone.

Ursa woke Zuko up to say goodbye, but didn't do the same to Azula, letting her daughter think she wasn't worthy of something so basic as one last moment with her mom.

It's pretty clear that, in Ursa's eyes, Azula was the "problem child." Does that mean she'd ever treat her the way Ozai treated Zuko? No, but there's a clear unwillingness to ask herself why Azula is the way she is, if there's something she can do about it, if she's contribuiting to it somehow, etc. There's a reason Zuko, the one never hesitates to pick up a fight, doesn't argue when Azula says their mother liked him more and thought of her as monster.

Questioning whether Azula's feelings about her mom felt about her are connect is the on the same level as questioning if Zuko was right about their dad favoring Azula and hating him. The problem is staring everyone in the face.

"That part of herself with the part of herself that was taught right and wrong by her mother" Casual reminder: while Ursa didn't approve of hostility and violence within the family, she was as much of an imperialist as Ozai. She laughed at Iroh's joke or burning Ba Sing Se to the ground. She never questions the war. Ursa might be a better person than Ozai, but she was still DEEPLY flawed, and it's not surprising that Azula, a CHILD, could not understand why her mom was totally okay with genocide, but would be horrified if Azula said "Grandpa is old and will die soon."

Ursa's teachings are contradictory. Ozai's are vile, but consistent. Azula is 14-years-old, raised in a society that normalized violence so much that even her mom, descendent of an Avatar, was affected by it deeply.

Being raised solely by Ursa, with no contact with Ozai ever, would not magically make Azula a saint because Ursa was no saint. She did NOT always know right from wrong, and her inconsistent stance on what counted as "bad behavior" made it nearly impossible for Azula to figure out what the fuck her mom expected from her - once again, making Ozai look better by comparisson because what he wanted was vile, but was crystal clear.

"She blames her mother for the person she is, instead of herself" She doesn't. She literally says Ursa is RIGHT about her, but merely admits that she is sad that meant she couldn't be loved. How the fuck is that saying "She made me the way I am"?

Azula would blame herself a billion times before blaming either of her parents - even though, as the adults who taught VERY poorly, they hold far more responsibility than she does, because she's still a child.

Why is Zuko recognizing that his father's abuse messed him up a winning moment of him coming into his own, but Azula trying to process her trauma about her mom needs to twisted into "blaming her for who she is"?

"Azula doesn't want responsibility or redemption" Neither did Zuko for most of the show. They're characters. They go through ARCS. Not wanting her to have redemption is a valid narrative choice, but acting like it's IMPOSSIBLE when the show itself says that even freaking Ozai could potentially change someday is ridiculous. Ehasz himself said they were toying with the idea of redeeming Azula. People didn't pull that out of thin air just because she had a sad story.

"She is harming the image of herself due to self-loathing" *one sentence later* "She imagines her mom again because she never blames herself for anything and always takes her rage out on others instead" I don't even need to point out the blatant contradiction here, do I?

[queer-overwatch]

hihi! loveee this blog god bless both of you i'm tweaking waiting for venture to come out 😭😭 might be a bit odd but if it's something either of you feel comfortable writing about, could i request them with an audhd masc reader who's really struggling with executive dysfunction? like they're struggling to do anything and feeling really down and ashamed about it (⁠me rn T~T) thanks!!

Venture w/ Audhd!Reader!

It's not odd at all! We both get the same way fjsofndk, have some hurt/comfort for ya <3 -Frisk & Xorn

══════ஜ▲ஜ══════

(Good lord we need more Venture gifs-)

══════ஜ▲ஜ══════

This was stupid, you were stupid, having a job was stupid- everything was stupid!

It's so easy, all you have to do is just get up, grab a pencil, and write a few words! It's quite literally the easiest assignment you've ever gotten from the Wayfinders! Ever!

Yet for some stupid, unknown reason you just- couldn't. No matter how much you yelled at yourself or cried, feeling useless, you couldn't get up. It was pathetic, sad, pitiful, everything you didn't want to be and yet, were.

You were sure your partner would be able to do this, anyone would be able to do this, so why couldn't you!? Groaning, you desperately wish to push yourself up and out of bed, yet make no movement to do so.

Stuck in your own head, you don't notice Venture knocking on your door, or stepping into your room after a few minutes of waiting. You only acknowledge them after they scare the shit out of you by grabbing your shoulder.

"What the fuck-!" You're finally able to move, even if it wasn't thanks to the best circumstances-

"Sorry! Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!" They laugh slightly, cheeks a bit darker than usual as they bend their knees slightly so they're eye level with you as you sit up in bed.

They slowly look you over, drawing their own conclusions as to how you're feeling and gently pushing you so you're on one side of the bed before grabbing something from the desk on the other side of your room and snuggling up next to you.

"So I'm gonna take just a wild, crazy guess here and say you haven't done any work today?" They hold out what they'd grabbed, apparently it was your assignment from the Wayfinders. Just seeing the paper sucks any energy you had left out of you as you groan.

They laugh pitifully at your misery, patting you on the back and setting the paper down on your lap. "I'll be honest, I haven't gotten a whole lot done today either. I'm a bit of a slacker myself from time to time!"

Venture throws an arm around your shoulders pulling you into their side softly as they nuzzle your cheek teasingly. "Buuut I've still gotten more done than you, so I'm on a winning streak technically! Though I guess I could be the best partner ever, which I already am, and help you out a bit."

Of course they'd turn it into a challenge, if there was one thing Venture adored, it was winning something. You could imagine their smug look already, as adorable as it was, you simply couldn't hand it to them that easily. Plus..the paper was already there, maybe you could just do a little, just so you would have it out of the way faster.

As you take the assignment from Ventures lap, you slowly start to write a few words, finally getting something done as Venture talks your ear off about how awesome they were.

About halfway through, it hits you that this was their attempt at helping, at getting you motivated. It was always easier to do things when they were around, and they knew it.

They still ended up with a stupid, adorable, smug smile on their face at the end of the day.

Hiii here are some headcannons to add on <3 -Xor

First of all it just sucks , wanting to do things but not being able to will yourself to do them is actually just awful.

Venture makes it a point just to generally check in on you and make sure you're feeling okay overall.

They then immediately delve into "how can I help you?" Asking you what you want or need to do but just can't seem to.

If it's something personal then they'll leave it to you unless you want their help. However if it's not then they ask you how you would perform the task and try to help you out with it.

The whole time they're really understanding and encourage you, not to do things but so you don't feel horrible about not doing them.

They try to find ways to interweave things you really enjoy doing along with said tasks , trying to help the tasks seem bearable in a way.

And if you simply can't, then it's a good time to relax and work out a half plan, for anything that needs to be done and try to do it layer.

They aren't going to push you to do anything just gentle yet loud encouragement and a couple nudges in the right direction.

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (24)

part 24 of ?? | 672 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

By the time Eddie wakes up, it’s not a private room anymore. He looks blearily over to his right, sees Steve lying still and quiet in a hospital bed of his own, and immediately tries to sit up. Wake up, I don’t like this.

24.

By the time Eddie wakes up, it’s not a private room anymore. He looks blearily over to his right, sees Steve lying still and quiet in a hospital bed of his own, and immediately tries to sit up. 

Wake up, I don’t like this. 

“Oh motherfucker,” Eddie groans at the immediate wildfire the motion starts through his core. He feels like he’s being split open down the middle. 

“Easy son, easy—” By the time Wayne’s intercepting hands reach him, Eddie is already falling back the inch or so he’d managed to rise with a pained whine. It’s jarring to see Wayne in a hospital setting again, but, well. Tables are pretty damn well turned now. And while the man looks stressed and worried, that's nothing to the gray, haggard ghost of himself that he'd been while sick.

It takes Eddie several minutes, a button that sends painkiller straight through his veins like a cold bath from the inside out, and a pitiful mouthful of ice chips to compose himself again.

“Steve,” he wheezes finally. “What happened?”

Wayne snorts. “Dumbassery.”

Eddie manages a weak smile. “Be more specific?”

“Looked like he got chewed on by the same thing that spit you out, only he didn’t get it looked at. Took the time to save your life first, though.” Taking the cup of ice chips away for later, Wayne sits back in his uncomfortable visitor's chair with a sigh. “The hell’d you get yourself mixed up in this time, Ed? First I come in here to find the Harrington boy watchin’ over you and you’re handcuffed to the bed. Then he keels over, and half an hour later Jim Hopper comes back from the dead to uncuff you and say the government’s covering all the medical bills.”

And the drugs might play a role here, but Eddie tells him. There’s no ‘you’re not gonna believe me,’ not with Wayne. 

He tells him everything. Chrissy, holding a broken bottle to Steve’s neck, the Upside Down and its monsters, everything. Even the blackmail part. Even though it takes him several tries over at least a whole day because he keeps drifting in and out, quality drugs and sheer exhaustion dragging him down into much needed rest.

When he’s done, Wayne regards him with a measured look—and in this case, the measuring cup is heaped full with are you fucking kidding me.

Eddie braces himself. (Mentally, anyway. Physically, he can't do shit.) The being gay, the dealing drugs, the murder charges—none of that did it, which is good, but he’s not entirely sure that Wayne won’t finally kick him to the curb for taking some poor guy’s wallet for a ride. Especially the guy who just saved his life, and who his uncle seems to have taken a liking to because of it.

“Son,” Wayne says, blunt as ever, “as soon as that boy is conscious again, you need to talk to him. You need to apologize.” There’s a long pause, and this is it, this is the part where Eddie is expecting to hear that next he should pack his bags— “And then tell him thank you.”

Another long pause. 

“Is that all?” Eddie asks weakly, because he has to be sure.

Wayne nods. “That’s plenty. Want a pen and paper to plan it out like one’a your game campaigns?”

On some level, Eddie recognizes that his uncle is making fun of him. On another . . . yeah, he actually kind of does, just to scribble out the jumble of thoughts in his head, not only about Steve but about everything. On every possible level, his eyes well up.

The sleep he’d gotten since almost dying was, perversely, the best he’d had in months. Since before Wayne had gotten sick, all the way through to the end of the worst Spring Break in the history of the world.Eddie chokes out a laugh as the first tears begin to fall, a comforting old hand finding its way to his shoulder as he has a long, long overdue breakdown.

[keouil]

we are each our own culture alive

it takes a village to convince oikawa to do a bake sale with shiratorizawa. 5k. seijoh/shiratorizawa. fluff. also on ao3.

“Absolutely not.”

Iwaizumi groans. “I’m not even done—”

“Nope! No! Negative!” Oikawa shakes his head woefully from side to side, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest. “Absolutely not and under no circumstances and over my dead body and—”

“Oi Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi cuts him off harshly. “At least let me finish first, will you?”

“What is there to finish, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa blinks at him innocently. “Captain meeting adjourned! Morning practice commence!”

Except no one moves from their spot.

They all stay rooted in a circle around Oikawa and Iwaizumi, watching their two captains verbally spar for the past hour. Mattsun and Makki both looked three lifetimes done with it. The second years just look amused. The first years look like they’d rather bury themselves into a hole than be caught in their tug of war, fully knowing Iwaizumi is the logical, practical, safe choice if and when it comes to a divorce; but that Oikawa would also likely blow up the entire school if he knew his first years had favourites that wasn’t him.

He often liked wielding them against Iwaizumi sometimes, also knowing full well how particular Iwaizumi got in treating the first years with as much patience and delicacy as possible. 

Case in point:

“Kindaichi-chan,” Oikawa calls out suddenly, gesturing for the nervous first-year who’d so far been looking back and forth between them looking torn. “I think our Iwa-chan here woke up on the wrong side of the bed and lost all his basic comprehension skills. A pity, but what can we do. Can you read aloud the text I sent the team group chat before practice?”

Kindaichi looks like he’d rather shove rocks into his mouth. He glances around nervously for an out, making pleading eyes at Kunimi next to him who has damned him all to hell by finding the floor so damn interesting all of a sudden, until his gaze finally lands on—thank God—one of his other senpais. 

“M-makki-s-senpai—”

Oikawa is quick to end his lifeline with a too maniacal grin. “Oh, no, Kindaichi-chan!” he tsks, blocking his view, the hand on his shoulder gripping him a little too tight for comfort. “They can’t save you now. No one can. Isn’t that right, Makki? Mattsun?”

“Leave the kid alone, Oikawa,” sighs Mattsun heavily, far too like a middle-aged corporate slave than someone in their last year of highschool.

“How about you leave all of us out of this marriage spat you guys are having,” Makki levels Oikawa and Iwaizumi a scathing look. “Some of us just want to play volleyball for God’s sake.”

Oikawa ignores all of them. He just smiles at Kindaichi expectantly, gesturing at his phone, waiting.

The third years groan some more.

Kindaichi clears his throat once, twice.

“T-to my lovely S-seijoh,” he starts shakily. “A t-treason has been reported in A-aoba Johsai. I-I repeat: a treason has been r-reported—”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Iwaizumi swears under his breath.

“Be quiet, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa hisses at him. “Don’t silence the boy!”

Kindaichi darts his eyes back and forth between them for a moment before continuing, still shaky.

“I-I’ve just been informed t-that our once honorable and e-exemplary team now h-has a traitor in our m-midst. W-who, y–you might ask? Well, c-color your captain shocked, i-it’s none other than our p-precious Iwa-chan himself!” 

Kindaichi tries reading it with the same kind of villanistic enthusiasm he thinks Oikawa wanted to project, but instead it just comes across quite pitiful and floundery. Half the team can’t even look at him properly, Yahaba shaking his head dejectedly. 

“Y-Your dependable vice-captain, a good shoulder to cry on f-for when Yuda gets into a-another one of his regularly scheduled m-mental breakdowns a-and a reliable senpai for when K-kunimi inevitably fails another exam by sleeping right through it, i-is disappointingly, b-but unsurprisingly not as upstanding as we all thought he w-was.”

Kindaichi glances around the room nervously. Passive faces, bored faces, amused faces; and ever consistent, the same saccharine smile from Oikawa and the same leering expression from Iwaizumi. Clearing the lump in his throat, he continues in a clearer voice. 

“And I know, I know; everyone’s curious, you all have your questions. How can the great Iwa-chan who has known Oikawa-senpai all his life from basically the sandbox betray his trust so easily just like that? What ever could have happened?” this Kindaichi says with a dramatic infliction, earning him a thumbs up from Oikawa and a look of what could only be described as pure disgust from Kunimi. 

“Well, my lovely and adorable kouhai and Yuda, I’ll tell you what happened,” he continues. “The day your lovely captain had a physical exam scheduled and was absent for the day, someone from an affluent but assuredly fraudulent good-for-nothing-but-raising-horses school representative approached our coach for a potential collaboration. Coach Mizoguchi, obviously bearing no consideration and regard for me whatsoever since I accidentally spiked that ball into his face a few months ago, signed off on this potential collaboration and urged said representative to also get the captain to sign. Do you see where I’m going with this, my lovely Seijoh? Do you see the picture I’m trying to lay out for you all?”

Iwaizumi makes a noise of contempt. Kindaichi hears someone threatening him to shut his mouth, probably Oikawa, probably Makki, probably both.

“While your captain was out there being poked to death, your vice-captain just signed us off on a day of forced co-habitation with the very same people who have prevented us from going farther than we ever should. He has so liberally and without remorse, signed us all off to our deaths so now we’re not just forced to mingle with the thieves of our glory, but also pretend any of us have even the slightest idea on what the difference between a pastry brush and a paintbrush is. And so when you’re knee-deep in mixing sticky dough as we inevitably sweat to our deaths in the Tokyo heat like subway rats, I urge you all to remember, my lovely Seijoh: that it was your vice-captain that put us all there in the first place.”

Kindaichi finishes, breathless and a little ran through. Yahaba passes him a bottle of water, expertly maneuvering him away from the Oikawa-Iwaizumi Region of Marital Spat and safely tucked him behind Kyotani and some of the other second years.

Iwaizumi doesn’t even bat an eye at all this. “You done now?”

Oikawa huffs, repugnant and even more annoyed at the desired effect not reaching its target audience. “Tch.”

Mattsun is the one who pieces things together from the Shakespearean monologue, and once he does, looks unbelievingly at Iwaizumi. 

“A goddamn bake sale,” he deadpans. “We’re doing a goddamn bake sale with Shiratorizawa?”

Iwaizumi nods. “Just until we reach our goal for next year.”

“If the coaches already agreed to this,” Makki furrows his brows, glaring at Oikawa. “What are you still yapping about?”

Oikawa has his mouth open to retort and cry crocodile tears again, but Iwaizumi beats him to it. “Shiratorizawa offered us a ride on their bus.”

“Okay,” Kyotani nods along with the rest. “And what’s the issue with that?”

“The issue with that, Mad Dog-chan,” Oikawa almost hisses at him, unused to being silenced. “Is that not only do we have a perfectly serviceable bus available to us at any time here in Aoba Johsai, but that by riding in Shiratorizawa’s bus, it also means riding with Shiratorizawa.”

A beat of silence.

“I still don’t see what the issue is,” Kyotani presses.

“The issue is that Ushikawa is a soul-stealing, youth-ending, glory-thieving, absolute behemoth of a man! He’ll crush our spirits before we even get to Tokyo!” Oikawa insists, almost yelling. 

Makki picks up his phone. “Yes, hello, Shakespeare?” he says. “Your lead actor has been isekai-ed as Japanese.”

Oikawa doesn’t relent. “He probably doesn’t even know the first thing about baking!”

Iwaizumi scoffs. “And you do?”

“No, but you do, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa quips back easily, waving him off. “And we’re basically a package deal so remember to do good in representing us both. Yahaba and Kyotani can cook, too.”

“Ushijima was the one who extended the offer to ride with them,” Iwaizumi reminds him. “He didn’t have to but he did. He really doesn’t sound that bad.”

“To you,” Oikawa mumbles, looking away and huffing and pouting. “He’s not the president of the Oikawa Toru Is Not A Genius Fanclub for no reason…”

“We’ve debunked that like three times already,” Mattsun runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “That’s not and never was a thing. It’s all in your head.”

“It’ll be fine,” Iwaizumi assures him, clamping a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder. “If either of you end up killing each other, then that just means none of us are going to Nationals.”

-

The bus ride to Tokyo, however, is decidedly not fine.

As soon as the Shiratorizawa VBC bus sign came to view—Oikawa made Kindaichi stand by the entrance to wait in the sweltering Sendai heat, much to Iwaizumi’s annoyance—most of the Seijoh members’ anticipation had died down into a pale imitation of casual resignedness. The idea of sitting in an air-conditioned bus for eight hours was far more enticing than backing up their captain’s one-sided dispute with a rival team that is, for the most part, self-inflicted and unrequited. Most of them were cordial with the Shiratorizawa members, maybe even friendly.

Most of them except, of course, Oikawa.

“Oikawa,” Ushijima began as soon as they stepped on the bus, standing up from his seat to greet him. “Thank you for—”

“Hear something, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa looks around dramatically, feigning ignorance and very pointedly looking anywhere but the man literally standing before him. “Sounds like loser to me!”

Iwaizumi ignores him and tells Ushijima as much, “Just ignore him.” He glances around apologetically at the rest of the Shiratorizawa team as they make their way along the aisle. “He gets cranky when he doesn’t get enough sleep.”

“Oh,” Ushijima says, slightly frowning. “I am sorry to hear that. Adequate sleep and nutrition is important for athletes. I hope you get enough rest on this trip.”

Oikawa looks positively affronted at the words coming out of his mouth. But of course, he’s never going to acknowledge that, and so Iwaizumi does instead. 

“Thank you, Ushijima-san,” he says genuinely. “We’ll try not to make too much noise.”

Tendou, beside Ushijima, waves him off easily. “No worries, no worries,” he beams. “We don’t have a lot of first years for Goshiki to play around with, and truth be told, I think he needs to socialize with more people his age.”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi trace his line of vision to a few rows behind them. Goshiki was busy gesturing animatedly at something on his phone to Kunimi who was looking on in interest, Kindaichi enthusiastically nodding along to whatever’s on screen.  

Oikawa looks torn between softening that his first years are finally interacting with people outside their anti-social two-man bubble, and horrified that it just had to be with someone from Shiratorizawa. 

Instead he settles for a cough, still decidedly looking at anyone but Ushijima who looked uncharacteristically less intense looking back at their first years. 

“Well,” Oikawa raises his chin stubbornly. “I guess Goshiki-chan is the lesser evil of you guys.”

Iwaizumi smacks him over the head. “Don’t say that!”

“What?” Oikawa hisses back at him, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s true!”

“That’s not the point—”

Tendou raises a hand to stop them both. “It’s okay,” he says, voice still lilting and the smile in his eyes still present. “It’s true. Goshiki is the best of us. Even our ace here agrees. Right, Wakatoshi-kun?”

Ushijima, much to Oikawa’s utter shock, does exactly that. Nod his head along. Without a hint of malice or sarcasm or holier-than-thou attitude. 

Ushijima actually acknowledging himself to be inferior and responding to basic social cues? Oikawa notes all of this in alarm, this realization only leading up to one thing in his one track mind: The world is ending.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa hisses under his breath, yanking him forward. “They’re plotting something. Grab the first years. We still have time. We can take the bloody shinkansen to Tokyo if we have to—”

“Oh good lord,” Iwaizumi just sighs, dragging him with him instead to the last few seats at the back and forcing him down on it. “Just shut up and get some sleep, Shittykawa. You will not be the cause of terror for anyone on this 8-hour road trip.”

-

“What do you guys think about a boyfriend rental service?”

“A what?” Semi shrieks, wrist-deep in cookie dough batter. 

Ohira slaps a face mask on him before flicking his forehead. “Safety first, you idiot!” he scolds. “Don’t get spit all over the dough!”

They’re in one of the community center’s various kitchens, baking and molding and kneading and cooking. Several of the members have been assigned different tasks, all of them scattered around the area like worker bees flocking from one table to another. Yahaba and Watari look skeptically into the bowl Semi was in charge of, none of them brave enough to point out that the lumps were still lumping after half an hour of Semi’s amateur and lazy kneading. 

Tendou takes pity on them and shoves Semi out of the way. “Sorry, what was that?” he turns to Goshiki. “A what service?”

“A boyfriend rental service,” Goshiki explains, using the back of his hand to wipe away the flour on his forehead. “I overheard some girls in my class talking about it at lunch the other day. It’s supposed to be an easy way to get cash as fast as possible, like those maid cafes popular here in Tokyo.”

“What do you know about maid cafes?” Soekawa asks at the same time Mattsun clicks his tongue disappointingly, “You guys let your first year watch too much anime.”

Goshiki blinks. “I—” he doesn’t even know where to start, who to address first. “I—”

“I think it’s a great idea!” Tendou pipes up, holding a bowl steady as Yahaba sifts through flour. “Tokyo has a good market for this too! We can do a buy-ten-get-a-free-date package deal! Or do an auction on who can pay the highest for one!”

Now it was Iwaizumi’s turn to get flustered. “Sorry, what's happening?” 

Semi considers this with a hand on his chin. “That’s actually not a bad idea,” he nods along, eyes lighting up. “One member each team then? Ours will have to be Wakataoshi, of course.”

“Of course,” parrots Ohira, and surprisingly, Mattsun. 

They all look towards Ushijima expectantly, leaning by one of the cabinets. He was still trying to level his breathing after carrying majority of the ingredients up five flights of stairs. He gives them a casual, one-shoulder shrug.

Good enough.

“Who are we pimping out, boss?” Kyotani slides an arm around Iwaizumi’s shoulder, overhearing the conversation and immediately dropping the stack of potatoes he was ordered to clean and pawning it off to Kindaichi. “I wouldn’t mind scoring a few dates myself,” he finishes, smirking.

Iwaizumi shoves his head away. “No minors,” he declares. “It will have to be Oikawa, then. He won’t mind.”

“That’s settled then?” Tendou peers around the room, murmurs of agreement and half-hearted efforts to volunteer themselves instead—namely Semi and Kyotani—all being harshly shut down by Ohira and Iwaizumi. Oikawa was somewhere by the front, reading off a recipe to Goshiki who was painstakingly following each step much to his amusement. “This is going to be good.”

“But, Tendou—” Ushijima turns to face him, frowning. “I’m—”

Tendou is quick to pat his back, smiling in that carefree way. “All good.”

Ushijima scans his face for a few seconds. “Okay.”

Iwaizumi, halfway through picking up a box of food coloring from the pantry, watches all of it unfold. 

-

“They’re making Tobio do what?”

Goshiki sputters a little, unused to the sudden attention. “Um—ah—” he begins, inching closer to Semi. “Hinata told me they’re planning to offer their first 30 customers a free picture with him. Or Kuroo. Still undecided.”

“But—” Oikawa frowns. “Tobio is like, what, twelve.”

“He’s sixteen, Oikawa, god,” Iwaizumi flushes, facepalming. “He is literally the same year as Kindaichi and Kunimi!”

“Who are also like twelve,” Oikawa gestures impatiently. “What's your point? They’re all children as far as I’m concerned.”

“Not to Kuroo,” Makki snorts in amusement, shifting the chairs around in the community hall. “That man puts snake oil salesmen to shame.”

“Their captain disapproves of this, right?” Oikawa turns to Iwaizumi, still frowning. “Sure his receives are shit and he’s basically raising the next generation of Satan worshippers, but he didn’t seem like the type to exploit his first years like that?”

Goshiki looks over at his phone again. “Hinata just texted me. Suga-san apparently put his foot down and, he quotes, There is absolutely no way in hell you are letting this child show a sliver of skin or so help me God, Kuroo, you will barely make it out alive when I’m done skinning yours.”

“Refreshing-kun?” Oikawa arches a brow, impressed. “Damn. Okay. At least someone in that team is using their head right.”

“I did not know you knew the Karasuno setter well,” Ushijima remarks offhandedly. “You appear concerned.”

Oikawa snaps out of it just like that. 

“I am not,” he insists, huffing as he storms his way back to the kitchen, ignoring all the amused looks from Seijoh and ordering Goshiki to follow him. “I don’t know that boy at all! I’ve never heard of a Kageyama Tobio in my life!”

Even Ushijima didn’t look convinced.

-

Tendou is, surprisingly, not the best at this.

“Iwa-kun~” Tendou coos, peering down at the glistening melon pans Iwaizumi just brought into the hall. “I didn’t know you were such a good cook!”

“Thanks, I think,” Iwaizumi places the tray on the table. “But no, I’m not a good cook. I’m just an only child who had 2 full-time working parents growing up.”

“Huh,” Tendou muses, strolling over to his side as they start gently transferring melon pans into containers. “What do you know? I’m an only child too.”

They were a few hours away from opening, just a few last minute touches left to iron out.

Oikawa and Ushijima were somewhere by the entrance, arguing about which strategy was best to entice as many auctioneers as possible. They will come either way, Ushijima argued. Easy for the Olympian to say! hissed Oikawa. Goshiki and Kindaichi were busy mopping the floor spotless, literally spotless, going so far as to get down on their knees to pick at every miniscule speckle of dirt that ultimately Ohira puts his foot down and drags them off the floor. Semi was decorating cupcakes with Kunimi, both of them amazingly adept at forming ribbon icings.

The rest of the team were existing in a surprisingly amicable fashion, none of them have so far threatened to kill the other over so much as breathing the wrong way.

With what Goshiki has been updating them from time to time about Karasuno and Nekoma’s bake sale the next building over, they were surprisingly off to a good—maybe even great—start.

Tendou gestures at one of the more deformed melon pans, from Iwaizumi’s earlier test batch with Shirabu that didn’t make the cut. “Do you mind?” he reaches for a napkin. “Goshiki’s about to get upset soon if he doesn’t get a treat around this time. Growing boys and their sweets.”

Iwaizumi gestures for him to go ahead. “My boys are the same,” he agrees. “Tobio once bought out an entire shelf of milk yoghurt and refused to share it with Kindaichi. We had to put them both on time-out for a week.”

Tendou raises a brow. “I thought that freak setter was in Karasuno?”

“He is, and Oikawa will never admit it,” Iwaizumi sighs. “But he basically taught the kid everything he knows. Next time you play against them, watch out for Kageyama and how he moves. He’s basically Oikawa’s protege.”

“Huh,” Tendou muses. “Well what do you know? Wakatoshi said the exact same thing.”

-

"Slowly, Makki! You're gonna gauge my eyes out!"

Makki makes a face. "Shut up! I'm not an expert in this!” he lines the eyeliner dangerously closer to his eye. “Aren't you the one with the sister?"

"There's only so many things I can do and am already doing," Oikawa drones on, bringing a small mirror up to his face and fixing his bangs for the nth time. Makki very nearly nicks him in the eye with all his constant shuffling about. 

"Just do it slowly,” Oikawa tells him. “And make sure to accentuate the wing. I hear cat eyes are all the rave nowadays, Goshiki-chan told me so."

Semi and Shirabu snap their heads at Goshiki, accusing.

“I did no such thing!” shrieks Goshiki, hiding behind Kindaichi, who had been holding up said vanity mirror for the past half hour his hands were starting to shake.

Semi shakes his head, shuffling his attention back to Oikawa and Makki perched on the makeshift vanity they set up in the kitchen. "Is that—" he gestures vaguely at the scene. "Do we also have to—"

"You think Ushijima-san is letting us put eyeliner on him willingly?" Shirabu shrieks.

“Does he even need it?” Semi asks. “He already looks intimidating enough.”

"Someone does need to coach him on what to say," Shirabu reminds them. "Or else he's just going to make a girl cry again."

Semi snaps his fingers. "Goshiki," he starts. "You're popular with girls, right?"

Goshiki wants to tell them that being able to hold a conversation with another human being that just so happens to be female and just so happens to not be related to volleyball is a very low bar for what constitutes as popular these days, but he so rarely had personal wins in a team as Spartan as his, and so takes the win whenever he can.

"I—" Goshiki steps out from Kindaichi’s shadow slowly, clearing his throat. "I-I get letters, yes." 

From family, Hinata, a middle school classmate he’s sure is only sucking up to him because of his close connection with Ushijima; but letters nonetheless. No one needs to know.

“Great,” Shirabu rounds on him, looking far too diabolical for his taste. “You get to be the one to school our captain on Social Etiquette 101 this time. And please don’t die before you do, we still need another ace for next year and Yunohama is still shit at receiving.”

-

They make their goal within the hour. Another half hour in, they’ve made it twice over.

Oikawa is only more than happy to be the center of such undivided attention, all the oohs and ahhs from nearly every corner of the gym aimed towards him just fueling his narcissism higher and higher.

Well. Nearly every corner.

“Ushijima-san!”

“Wow, an actual Olympian!”

“He’s even taller than I imagined! And that jaw!”

“Let’s get his autograph!”

Oikawa’s hold on the pen he was gripping was growing tighter and tighter, the smile on his face straining by the second. The girl waiting for his autograph was blissfully oblivious to his growing dissent.

“Makki,” Oikawa hisses under his breath, painstakingly writing out his autograph line by line. If the ink bled through the paper a little too much when he handed it over, the girl doesn’t notice and bounces happily away. “Blush. Give me more blush.”

Makki in turn is only too happy to assault his face with even more powdery, glittery, shiny things that by the end he looks more like a children’s doll given to a child that had a seriously disturbing and inaccurate image of what a doll should look like.

Iwaizumi eyes him knowingly.

“What?” Makki shrugs. “This is how my sister does it.”

“Your sister needs therapy,” Mattsun notes, peering closer into Oikawa’s face to look over his highlight. “Or Oikawa is just really, really ugly not even make-up can save him.”

Oikawa bats Makki’s hands away that were getting a little too pecky and not dabby. “Alright enough!” he hushes them. “Makki, I swear, if I look like that goddamn Annabelle doll your sister loves watching—”

“I,” Makki breathes out slowly, clutching the blush brush closer to his chest to resist the urge to poke someone’s eyes with it. “Am doing my best.”

“And how wonderfully you do it, Makki-kun!” strolls in Tendou all of a sudden, leaving behind a scent trail of freshly baked bread and apple pie. “Looking good, Oikawa-san!”

“Well that’s not good,” Oikawa remarks in alarm. “Not good at all. I’m not trusting the opinion of someone who dyes their hair red. Willingly.”

“He does rock the red,” Mattsun says offhandedly.

“That he does,” Makki readily agrees.

“Me now!” Oikawa cries out. “Attention on me! I’m the one in crisis!”

Yahaba sighs, already regretting having to ask, “How do you figure that?”

Oikawa looks at Kunimi. “Kunimi,” he says. “What’s the tally?” 

Kunimi rolls his eyes exasperatedly before bringing up a wad of paper, haphazard numbers scribbled in. “About ¥57,000 for you so far. Ushijima-san at ¥60,000.”

Oikawa gestures wildly, maniacally, unhingedly as if everyone was supposed to get it and be as infuriated as he was. Iwaizumi thinks he must’ve inhaled too much hair spray earlier and the fumes got to his head. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“See!?” Oikawa whines, voice rising an octave. “See what I mean?! We’re behind on our goal!”

“We’ve already made our goal, you glutton,” Makki pokes his head with the brush. “Twice over. You and Ushijima alone brought in enough money to last both teams a year.”

Oikawa doesn’t even care about that, and tells them as much, “I don’t care about all that,” he declares. “The goal is to beat Ushijima’s numbers. We’re getting that extra ¥3,000 yen or so help me God I’ll have all of you do suicide runs every day for a year.”

A number of groans are all he gets in response. 

None of it fazes Oikawa in the slightest.

“Am I at least prettier than Tobio?” Oikawa turns to face his team properly, hands on his hips. “Tell me honestly. I won’t be mad.”

Oikawa makes the mistake of looking at Iwaizumi first.

Iwaizumi makes the mistake of not hiding his grimace fast enough.

Oikawa gasps. “No,” he bemoans, whipping his head around to look for anything reflective. “No, no, no. Tell me I’m at least prettier than Tobio. Tell me that at least. Good grief, Kindaichi, bring the mirror.”

Kindaichi is jolted back into action, already making to sprint back to the community hall, before Mattsun and Makki plant a hand down each of his shoulders. 

“You look fine, you fool,” Makki rolls his eyes.

Kindaichi raises a hand hesitantly. “I-I think you look great, Oikawa-san!”

Mattsun promptly shoves it back down. “You also think his cooking is good,” he murmurs. “Nevermind all of us got food poisoning that one week he made us bentos.”

Iwaizumi hears another round of excited yelps in the distance and decides he’s had enough of this.

“Quit yapping,” Iwaizumi storms over to grab the back of Oikawa’s uniform forcefully, dragging them back to the activity area. A new group of girls were already making their way over to Ushijima. “You could wear a garbage bag over your head and these people will still think you’re the second coming of Christ with that K-pop hair. Now smile, pretty boy, we have Nationals to fund.”

-

The bus ride back to Sendai is surprisingly pleasant.

Iwaizumi expected, much like he does in matches, for the adrenaline that powered them through most of the day to die down as soon as everything blew over. For nearly 10 hours, they’ve been on their feet cooking and baking and entertaining and even sometimes acting as bodyguards for when some of the customers got a little too frisky with any of their captains. Goshiki and Kindaichi, in particular, took it upon themselves to trail after them like dogs with a bone. Ushijima looked used to it, while Oikawa in full knowledge Kindaichi was never going to let him out of his sight no matter what he did, begrudgingly let himself be followed. 

All of their efforts in totality paid off, and well, what a pay-off indeed.

“Nearly ¥280,000 in total,” Shirabu gushed at them while they were cleaning up, taking it upon himself to be their treasurer. “And that’s not counting private donations from today, too.”

Oikawa looked only to be too happy in that revelation, smiling confidently at the knowledge he was able to secure that measly ¥3,000 yen in the end.

“That is good to hear,” Ushijima said, his measured tone expressing absolutely nothing of the sort. “We all did good today.”

But it was enough for Shiratorizawa. They clung to that single piece of feedback like fishes out of water, grinning to themselves and clapping each other on the back. Tendou congratulated Ushijima for his patience in dealing with as much people as he did, and it’s only then they actually saw a ghost of a smile grace his face.

“It couldn’t have been easy for him,” Mattsun observed, stacking chairs on top of each other while the rest put away tables. “Ushijima-san strikes me as someone uncomfortable with too many people around.”

If he was, Iwaizumi thinks back on it, then Ushijima handled everything with as much grace as possible. Shiratorizawa seemed to function in full knowledge of this, too; if any one of them being miraculously present whenever huge crowds form around Ushijima was any indication. Tendou, in particular, was almost always within distance. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t think much of it until he finds himself seated next to him on the bus, Oikawa and Ushijima forced by the coaches to sit and strategize on how best to divide and spend their earnings. 

“So,” Iwaizumi says, looking over at Tendou munching on leftover meringue cookies. “What was that about earlier?”

Tendou pops another cookie in his mouth before replying. “What was what?”

“The boyfriend rental thing,” Iwaizumi snags a few cookies into his palm at Tendou’s offering. “Am I mistaken or did..” he pauses, choosing his words carefully. “Did Ushijima actually ask permission from you?”

Tendou huffs a little laugh, still sweet and light as saccharine. “Who knows?” he looks over at Ushijima a few rows in front of them, in deep and—thankfully—mild conversation with Oikawa. “He’s not the best at reading the room sometimes, so he always tends to ask way more questions than normal.”

“I see,” Iwaizumi hums. “But why’d he have to ask you about it?”

Tendou shrugs casually, before saying just as indifferently, “Probably because of the boyfriend thing.”

“What boyfriend thing?"

“As in, that we’re a boyfriend thing.”

“What do you mean you’re a boyfriend thing.”

“I mean, we’re boyfriend and boyfriend.”

Iwaizumi almost chokes on the cookie he was chewing, sputtering about messily. Tendou is quick to offer him a water bottle, gently patting his back after. 

“W-what—” Iwaizumi coughs once, twice. “Y-you mean you guys are—”

“In a relationship? Together? Boning?” Tendou supplies, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Iwaizumi nods unsurely, still trying to get his throat to settle.

Tendou thinks fondly on the question. “We don’t have a label,” he finally says. “Truthfully, I don’t think we love the same way other people do, or even think of romance the way you expect to see it play out in traditional relationships. I don’t mean straight or gay or anything like that… just, love, I guess. As a person. As consideration. As loyalty.”

At the confused expression on Iwaizumi’s face, Tendou explains further, gently.

“I’m waiting for him to figure it out, and granted I could be totally wrong,” he leans in, making also Iwaizumi lean in. “But I think Wakatoshi is aromantic. Maybe even asexual. Doesn’t matter to me either way. Love for me, I think, is knowing at the end of the day I’ll have someone accept me unconditionally.”

Iwaizumi feels tongue tied. 

He can’t think of a single thing to say, still letting the words flow over him and sink himself into the gravity of exactly what Tendou is telling him. At what he’s still trying to figure out himself.

“Thank you for telling me,” is what Iwaizumi settles on first, and most importantly, on. When he feels like the gears on his head working again, looks on earnestly at him, and says seriously and genuinely: “You guys look happy together.”

The smile Tendou gives him then is nothing short of breathtaking. “That we are,” he grins. “And isn’t that all matters in the end?”

There is a stripe of sunlight cutting through the bus, Iwaizumi notes, that lands softly at the side of Oikawa’s face and dousing it just golden. And as if Oikawa can feel him looking, like he always did, flickers his eyes just briefly so at him; and winks. 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says, breathless like the wind. “This is all that matters.”

[bitchofdarkness]

Title: 5+1: Unlucky Seo-jin Pairing: Kim Yeong-hu/Kang Seok-chan Rating: Teen and Up-Audiences Word count: 2,7k Summary: Five times Min Seo-jin accidentally saw Kang Seok-chan and Kim Yeong-hu all couple-y and one time he went looking for it.

Excerpt:

1. A successful mission meant a week of freedom. Seo-jin had planned to use it for gaming and partying– meeting up with his friends outside the military and of course to spend time with his family. Unfortunately Dong-jun had managed to piss off his parents enough for them to outright refuse to let him come home and Seo-jin took pity on him out of the goodness of his heart.

This was how they ended up in a bathhouse to relax. He was scrubbing his legs ferociously when he heard something on the other side of the wall parting the washing stations. 

“Babe, I'd appreciate an answer,” the guy said, whose voice he recognized from somewhere. Now, it wasn't unusual to call your close friend babe, but to do it in a bathhouse was next level comfortable. “Come on, Yeong-hu-ya, do you rather want to eat tteokbokki or jjajangmyeon?” The guy said and Seo-jin unmistakably identified him as Seok-chan, who apparently was on a very informal level with Sergeant Kim. 

Without looking, he slapped Dong-jun next to him and then motioned for him to stay silent, when he was about to complain. He pointed at the wall and then his ear to convey he was supposed to listen. 

“Will you be the one who cooks?” The Sergeant asked and even the tone of his voice had changed drastically. Seo-jin's eyes were bugging out and he could see Dong-jun had a similar reaction and even went as far as standing up to look over the wall discreetly. 

He instantly sat back down. Eyes wide as he looked at Seo-jin, “Dude!” he whispered. 

“I know!” Seo-jin whispered back. 

“Do you see a ring on this finger?” Seok-chan replied in such a sassy tone that Seo-jin could only sit and stare to digest this information. “No, I was thinking tteokbokki and grilled meat at this small restaurant we went to last time.” Seok-chan continued, “You can buy me some beef.”  

Seo-jin could hear the sergeant grunt in displeasure and then there was splashing of water and a shocked exclaim from Seok-chan. “Why am I the one buying you beef again?” 

AGAIN? Dong-jun mouthed at Seo-jin. 

“Simple, Yeong-huya, you're the one with the higher salary,” Seok-chan replied matter of fact. Seo-jin was flabbergasted and when he looked over at Dong-jun the guy wasn't doing any better. 

Seo-jin was about to just rinse himself off and go to the tubs to relax and forget he ever heard anything of this, when the sergeant suddenly thought it was a great idea to give him a full tmi. “I'd rather get a massage after this. I don't think the water will do much.”

Seok-chan sighed, “Why didn't you say something earlier? We could've picked a place that got both.” 

“Not that kind of massage.” Yeong-hu told him and Seo-jin could feel his world view collapse. Everything else could've been just shenanigans between friends, but this was pretty fucking gay. 

“Oh.” Seok-chan sounded less shocked and more excited. “Perhaps I should cook after all.”

“Perhaps you should, Seok-chan-ah.”

Yeah, they were in gay love and now Seo-jin and Dong-jun knew without any clue how to react to that newly found info. How weird it was to know your two comrades– one of them your superior– were going to fuck today and probably any other day too. 

He distinctly remembered that it was considered a felony within the military and decided to just forget about it. Seo-jin hoped Dong-jun would do the same. 

Really, he just wanted to not think of those two for as long as he could. 

Read on AO3

[thecameronchronicles]

Yours

TW: Public sex. Smut. Language. Spanking. 

SUMMARY: Your confession leads JJ to act.

WORD COUNT: 1400

REQUESTED:

Can you pls write JJ x Reader, JJ asks what do you want.. and you say “I want to be yours..”meaning his. It leads to him picking you up and making you fully his.. lots of smut because possessive JJ is the best!! He loves that you came to him asking him to be his.. since your always flirting but never coming across the line. Between being friends and more. Thank you so much, love your writing ❤️❤️❤️

Yours 

"JJ!" You called after him, watching him storm away from the section of the Boneyard less crowded, continuing still until you were completely alone. 

"Don't let me stop you, princess. Don't want to be the reason you give another random touron fucking blue balls, God knows you're good at it-" 

"Would you just talk to me?! Why are you so mad?" You pleaded, frustrated at how he seemed so possessive over someone who was just supposed to be a friend to him. But in truth, it had been a long time since the existence between you was solely platonic. If it ever was. 

"What's the point?" He suddenly spat as you called his name in repetition, his steps suddenly bringing you to face him as he was close enough to feel the heat from his breath. 

"You're just going to tell me I'm reading too much into it because you don't know what the hell you want." 

"Yes I do..." You explained in more of a whine as he crossed his arms. 

"This outta be good then. Tell me. What do you want princess? The attention of every guy from Kook to...crab? Because you've got it. Just like you always do. Like you always fucking have!" 

"You! I want you!" 

"No you dont." His response made you aggravated for a multitude of reasons. But nothing more than the fact you'd finally been able to say those words and he had rivaled you. 

"YES, I do!" 

"No, you don't. You feel bad for me. You pity me, you don't-" You silenced him, rushing across the brief distance between you and pressing your lips aggressively to his. 

"I want to be yours, JJ. It's all I've ever wanted, all I-" He dove back into you. Any semblance of reservation dissolving with each kiss until you felt him strengthen the eroticism with a tongue brushing your bottom lip. Once you parted your lips further, due to his tease, this acted as the final validation he needed as he raised his hand to your breast. 

"JJ-" 

"You want to be mine? Then that means I get to have all of you..." He explained, gripping the clasp of your bikini top in one hand until he could pull the fabric beneath the weight of your breasts. A greedy mouth warmed one as the other would find comfort in his warm but tight grasp. 

"It also means every one of those fucking moans from here on out belong to me, right?" 

"Yes-" 

"And every time you come. That will be because of me. Right?" 

"Please. Yes. Please." You spoke quickly as he bit onto your nipple, kneading it with his teeth as your fingers dug sharply into his muscles. 

"Oh my God!" You gasped as a hand now made its way into your jean shorts and panties, a smirk from him having broken your attempt to kiss him. 

"And you will only ever be this wet for me...Anyone else even tried and-" 

"Only you, JJ...please. Make me yours." 

"You have no idea what you're in for..." He growled as he watched your expression twist in response to his fingers tessing your sex. 

"Then show me." He lifted you around him, leading you to one of the decrepit trees lain forgotten on the beach, before you were set level with him. 

"Always teasing me with these goddamn suits...gonna kiss every inch and leave my mark on every part of you so you can wear whatever the fuck you want, but everyone knows only I get to touch you...." You nodded as he removed the bikini top completely, your exposed back clawed by his fingers, before he returned a hand between your legs. 

"JJ!" 

"You've yelled my name a lot...But something different about you doing it when you wanna come. So fucking desperate. Hot. Sexy..." 

"Yours." 

"Everything?" He teased as you nodded. A ringed finger finally granting you access to pleasure as you rode softly into him. But the presence of a second finger bent to join the first at the edge of your g-spot, had welcomed him with a feeling of arrogance to know how easily he could control you right now. 

"Those little whines? These perfect tits?" He asked, a second hand groping that soft skin, a kiss brought around those nipples once again, as you gasped in the heat of his kiss mixing with the heat he caused between your thighs. 

"This ass?" He asked, tearing you down from the trunk and facing you away from him. 

"Yes." 

"Then let me see what's mine, sweetheart. All of you. Just for me." You were shameless and bold, unabashed from his words, as you undressed for him. 

"Oh my God...But what will it do for ME? I already know you're stunning. I already know everyone else wants to fuck you. But what will your perfect curves and body do for ME?" He asked with a smirk as you felt him press you onto the tree. 

"Better do something fast or you'll freeze, princess." You turned quickly, fingers softly at his chest. 

"Whatever you want." 

"Show me how badly you want to be mine then. Show me what you're willing to do for it." You took his hint as he set his fingers beyond your cheek and into your hair, the same wrap remaining as you would then look up at him with doe eyes contradicting in sin and innocence. 

"You keep those eyes on me. I want to watch how much you want it." You nodded, removing his belt, resending the button of his shorts, and taking him beyond your puckered lips. His eyes rolled immediately as he pulled you along along him as he now used the tree as a means for stability. 

"Just like that..." He endorsed. 

"Fuck..." He became lost in the perfection of how you took him. Drool and tears mixed into a drip down your chin, breathless gasps and gags disregarded, all unified to offer him the pleasure in proving you truly wanted him. 

"You really do wanna be mine?" He asked, looking down to you, face almost in a wince or even angered, as he pulled you off of his cock, making you gasp, before he took hold of your jaw. 

"Then you're gonna let me come so deep inside you, you'll be dripping with me for days...weeks even." You nodded. 

"Please!" 

"Turn around. I wanna feel that ass against me." You obliged as he aligned himself onto your sex. 

"You're gonna be so fucking tight, I already felt it." He wrapped his hand at the back of your neck. 

"But you're gonna be loud for me, too. Let everyone know just how proud you are to be mine." Before you could speak even a word, he was inside of you, forcing you into the rough bark of the tree. But the mend from pleasure by his cock and fingers, you forgave him quickly. And in repetition as these battering pounds continued. 

"I thought we agreed you were proud to be mine?" 

"I am!" 

"Then why the fuck can't I hear it?" 

"Harder!" He slapped your ass, taking you against his shaft in hard bucks. Sporadic strikes to either cheek would echo between your pleas for 'more' as JJ was quick to oblige. But with each battering came the acceleration of his speed. 

"That's it isn't it baby? My cock's gonna make you come, isn't it? So close aren't you?" 

"F-uck-" You shuddered as he scoffed. 

"You're so fucking close, I can feel you clenching for me...But I need it all. Because I'm proud to be yours too, baby...And I'm gonna go back with you worn on me too." You nodded. 

"I'm gonna come, JJ-" 

"My girl's gonna come for me?" 

"Yes! For you, JJ!" 

"Then come, princess. All over this cock, all reserved for you-" Your eyes rolled as the pleasure surged through you. Buck after buck and pound after relentless pound continued through your high as your inner convulsions clenched him into his own. 

"Jesus fuck-" He managed before turning you to face him. 

"Mine, huh?" He asked, helping you redress as you nodded. 

"Yours…"

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

[karisomk]

Attorney! Attuma x Ex Mob- Wife Okoye AU Pt. 1 (Possibly teaser?)

Characters: Attuma x Okoye but mentions of W'kabi prior relationship. Child from their prior relationship. Tags: Angst, Romance, some fluff moments, alluding to abuse and some verbal. Possession. Manipulation. Comfort and possibly death later.

Author's notes: So the muse hit me with this one a while back but I never posted it. I AM VERY AWARE that it is not realistic. But that's fine. I re-read it and still like it. So I'm sharing it afterwhile. And IF you would like to see PART 2 OR more etc. Let me know! Summary:

Attuma A. A well-known attorney for the mob gets a client that needs help with a custody case. W'Kabi desires to take his daughter away from Okoye just to show her he's unhappy about being divorced and because he gets what he wants.

Attuma looked up from the folder he was slowly building for his new client, the urge to show his annoyance was becoming vastly difficult. He should have known how W'Kabi's assistant, argued with his front desk operator this morning, that he was going to be a pain in the ass when here. The soft jazz music that was playing in the spacious office, could be heard by overhead speakers in the front sitting area.  The lulling sound of bubbles, from his built-in wall large aquarium filled the silence in his office. The office was spacious, decorated with a black leather lounge that looked brand new near his aquarium. Two large cherry oak wood bookshelves, filled with various books along with a few small office plants. Various oil paintings of the sea were hung up on the wall around his office, fitting the water theme he often favored.

"So just to make sure I heard you correctly, you want full custody of your daughter even though you work seventy hours a week?" Attuma questioned.

"Yes."

W'Kabi's response was quick yet so smug in regard to talking about his daughter with his ex-wife.

"May I ask why when you spoke about how she has more time for your daughter anyway?"  Attuma lifted a brow, tapping his pen on his desk.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't fucking aware that the fifty thousand dollars check, that cleared into your account needed an explanation as well!" W'Kabi snapped.

Attuma stayed silent but merely looked at W'Kabi over his small black rectangle glasses, unphased by the insult. But part of him should have shut the folder right then and there. And advised him, the money that was processed will be given back to him promptly.  But instead, Attuma straightened himself leaning back into his black plush leather chair. W’Kabi’s attitude wasn’t new to him after all he worked with several clients that served the mob, but this level of spite was a little different.

"Mr. W'Kabi this is more in regard to the judge. He or she will ask you the same question so it is better to tell me now or at least tell me what you would like to tell the judge."

This seemed to cool W'Kabi's flaring temper, the brief scowl on his features now replaced with a smile. "My wife. Well, my ex-wife, she insisted on pushing for.  Wants to file for full custody and says that I do not have the time for our daughter."  He started to explain.

"I am filing for full custody because I want to. Because I get everything I want.  And because my fucking ex-wife needs to learn, it was a mistake for even divorcing me. So, until she recognizes that, my child will be staying with me.  And if she changes her attitude then maybe she can see her daughter.  "  The spite filled in W'Kabi's words made Attuma's skin crawl, his grip on his pen tightening slowly while he fought to be stoned face.

This wasn't his first time being selected to be a representative in a post-messy divorce and wouldn't be his last. But this pitiful excuse of a man beforehand chooses to hurt his ex-wife by using their own child.

"Understood, so the true answer to the judge would be that you are the better-fit parent in other words. Rather it is by being there more financially. But the judge will not hear any of this if you are not showing proof of being there for your daughter. But I am sure the judge can be convinced that you are now working a lighter schedule by the first hearing."

W'Kabi hummed in approval, "See and this is why you are the most recommended legal firm here in the city. If you get Namor and his gang out of lifetime sentences, this should be a breeze for you".

Attuma hated that W'Kabi was at least correct about that, with the right evidence or holes in cross-examinations he always got cases thrown out with ease.

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

After an hour of debriefing with W'Kabi, Attuma was ready for a drink if he heard one more story about why his beautiful ex-wife didn't want him anymore. He was going to toss this man out on the street and his folder.  Any information about Okoye, left little room for him to argue in court about how she was a unfit mother.  W'Kabi knew that Okoye did everything for their daughter, she was the one that took her to school and practice. She was the one that their daughter preferred living with even as W'Kabi offered for her to stay with him.  The two didn't want anything to do with him, so this entire case was just sheer pettiness.

And yet somehow, W'Kabi expected Attuma to argue this down and have the judge favor him.  Attuma mentally called to Chacc, asking for patience for himself and for dealing with his fool of a client.

Once his contract of service started with W'Kabi, a notion was filed to get a peace officer to serve Okoye.  This settled the disgruntled man, after leaving his assistant's desk number and his personal line for Attuma to call him he left the office.

Attuma’s gaze was on the manila folder that still sat on his desk, his gut twisting in knots about his discussion with W'Kabi. Warm brown eyes flickered up once a soft knock was heard.  An elder dark-skinned woman stood in the doorway, dressed in a dark blue blazer with matching pants.  Her blouse of a cream color that matched her cardigan that was thrown over her shoulders.  Her grey coils were styled in a pixie cut.

"I don't mean to bother you and you know most of the time I do not pry. But you didn't just really take that man's case, did you?" she quietly asked. 

"I did, Mrs. Gia and hopefully you don't mind but I think we should close early today" Attuma sighed softly before moving to get to his feet.  Turning away to close the blinds in his office, he knew she was still watching him.

"Mr. Almehen-" Gia started to say, that familiar tone typical to that of what a mother takes before scolding their child.  A tone he knew well whenever he came into work sick, or just simply overworked himself.

Attuma moved to grab his briefcase afterward, still avoiding her gaze before he finally looked at her. And just as he knew from the tone, that light glare was in place.

"I could hear him in the front, that was how loud he was and the way he spoke about his wife." Gia gave a frown and shook her head. "Look, this should be an open and shut case no matter what Mr. W'kabi thinks. The sooner the cases start the better and then I won't have to see him anymore. Now please lock the doors for now until we’re both ready to leave, so no more inquiries for today.”