#and one of her friends has ketchup my BABY

[wileyfern]

I started playing acnh again and marshal came to visit! but he wants to kick out Cheri 😭😭😭

[frenchkisstheabyss]

୨୧ tell me a secret ୨୧

୨୧ Pairing: roommate!hyunjin x chubby!fem!reader x roommate!yeji

୨୧ Genre: fluff/smut

୨୧ Summary: Stuck in the house with nothing to do on a Friday night, you and your roommates decide to play a game called Tell Me A Secret. Similar to Truth or Dare, the rules are simple. Do the dare or spill your secrets. It's just an innocent, fun way to pass the time. Well, maybe not so innocent.

୨୧ Word Count: 2.3kish

୨୧ Warnings: ✨ first and foremost, if you don't wanna be with a girl I humbly thank you for stopping by but the exit is to your left ✨ fingering, oral sex (f receiving & you're the one giving), a lil nipple play, a lil roughness, finger sucking, unprotected sex, creampie, brief mention of masturbation (m & f), hyunjin has listened to you masturbate btw, yeji's a lil jealous, threesome (obviously, babes), the hwangs share you but don't hook up w/ each other, spanking, pet names (pretty girl, baby), low key soft dom vibes, heavy make out sesh.

୨୧ A/N: I received this as a request from a darling anon so here we are. I think it's super sweet that I got this request because I never get them for girl groups so yas kween. Anyway, I hope you love it my sweet anon and everyone else too!

“Aaaah! No way! Ew! I can’t watch this!” Yeji shrieks, covering her eyes with the blanket.

Standing at the side of your bed, Hyunjin swishes a raw egg around in a glass. The three of you had every intention of going to a party tonight but an unexpected storm had other plans. So here you all are, lounging around in your pajamas daring each other to drink raw eggs. 

“You won’t do it!” you taunt, fiddling with the ears of the teddy bear in your lap, “Just tell us a secret.” Yeji stretches out across the bed, resting her head on your thigh. “Yeah, tell us. Did you actually hook up with that girl who works at the cafe?” she asks, scrunching her nose up, “The girl who smells like ketchup.” 

You seize the opportunity to double down on poor Hyunjin. It’s one of the many unspoken rules of the apartment. “She does smell like ketchup. They don’t even have ketchup there.” “Shut up!” Hyunjin huffs, placing a hand on his hip. He stares down at the raw egg, his stomach turning the longer he drags out the inevitable.

Tilting his head back, he brings the cup to his lips and—

“Shit, I can’t do it.” 

“I knew it” Yeji gloats, slyly moving her head further onto your lap. She turns to give you the cutest pouty face. The one that you just know means she wants you to play in her hair. You give in without thinking, that’s what you always do with Yeji. How could you ever say no to a girl like her?

Twirling her silken strands around your fingertips, you try to remind yourself that this is your best friend. Your roommate. Yes she’s been cozying up to you a lot more lately but it’s nothing. Just like the thumping in your chest whenever she takes your hand or kisses your cheek. It’s nothing. 

“Okay, so, uh, I didn’t hook up with the ketchup girl but…” Hyunjin sets the glass down on the dresser and pauses for dramatic effect, “Seungmin did. That’s a secret right?” You and Yeji gasp in unison, the shock of Hyunjin’s betrayal rocking you to your core.

“You did not just—you’re a terrible!” you laugh, shaking your head. “You should be ashamed” Yeji agrees, reveling in the regret on Hyunjin’s face. Hyunjin flips you the middle finger, “Fine then. Fuck you guys, I’m going to bed.” He isn’t really mad, both of you know it, and he isn’t really going anywhere but you entrain his tantrum anyway.

“Jinnie, come on. We were just joking. Stay” you beg, catching him by the wrist as he goes to grab his phone. Yeji’s pouty face may have the power to bring anyone to their knees but so does yours and Hyunjin’s nowhere near immune to it. He doesn’t want to be. 

He forces you to suffer for a few more seconds, a scowl fixed on his face, before giving in. “Fine but it’s your turn now” he says, hopping onto the bed, “Tell us a secret or do the dare.” “Well you have to tell me what the dare is first.” Yeji and Hyunjin turn to each other, striking up a silent conversation only they can understand.

As close as the three of you are, the connection they have is near telepathic and has meant trouble for you since the day you moved in. Yeji sits up, her strawberry gloss tinted lips mere inches from your face, “Kiss us.” 

Suddenly your internal temperature skyrockets, making the room unbearably hot. “K-kiss you?” you stutter, “On the cheek you mean?” Hyunjin cracks a devious smile, “Not quite.” You look to Yeji and back to Hyunjin. Back to Yeji. Back to Hyunjin. This is obviously a joke. “Right, ha ha ha. So funny. You got your joke in, Jinnie. I’m sorry I teased you, okay?”

“He’s not joking” Yeji persists, petting your cheek to bring your focus back to her, “We’ve all thought about it. Don’t lie and say you haven’t.” You could say you haven’t but she’s right, it’d be a lie. One of the biggest lies you’d ever tell in your life. The fantasies you’ve had of being with them, separately and together, are filthy enough to make a porn star blush.

How they look at you, it’s like they know how often you’ve wondered what it’d be like to feel their lips…hands…bodies…on yours. It dawns on you that maybe they can read your mind too. Shit.

“So,” Hyunjin hums, moving in close enough to pin you between the two of them, “What’s it gonna be then?” 

So, what’s it gonna be then?

The kiss.

The tiniest nervous peck on the lips. One for each of them. But you kissed Hyunjin for a split second longer than you did Yeji, she swears it. So one more for her, this one much deeper than the last, her arm coming around your waist to caress the softness of your hips. But Yeji’s gotten too greedy, the excitement of finally having you right where she wants you making it hard to let you go.

So one more for Hyunjin who doesn’t let you catch your breath for more than a moment before he captures you in another kiss, his hands slipping beneath your thin tank top to delight in the fullness of your figure. Yeji plants kisses down your shoulder, pulling your shorts aside just enough to get a peek at the lace panties beneath.

She remembers when you bought those. You were out shopping together and you asked which pair you should get to wear for some guy you were dating at the time. What a waste, she’d thought, that an asshole like that got to have you. You feel her smile as her hands dip into your shorts. It’s her turn to have you now. 

“You want more, baby?” Hyunjin asks, breathlessly, running his thumb across the hardened bud that pokes through the material of your bra. “Mmm, yes. More” you whine, your entire body reacting to his touch. He grins at how sensitive you are, closing two fingers around the bud to pinch it until he’s swallowing your needy moans.

He hears them when you think you’re home alone, the low hum of your vibrator audible through your bedroom door. Standing in that hallway, his cock throbbing in his hand, precum pooling in his palm, all he wanted was to taste those moans as they left your lips. Now that he has, he’s positive he’ll get addicted. They’re far more delicious than he ever imagined.

“Open up for me” Yeji whispers, tickling your inner thigh, “Let me feel how wet you are for us.” You do exactly as you’re told, spreading your legs to grant her fingers access to the juices soaking their way through your panties. “Aww, baby, you’re such a mess” she coos, tucking your panties to the side to stroke your slit, “Jinnie, come here. You’ve gotta feel this.”

With one hand still toying with your nipple, he brings the other between your legs. Yeji drags hers upward, coating your clit in your own arousal as Hyunjin sinks a finger into your warmth. Your back arches, lust coursing through your veins, and any remnants of your former shyness falls away. Your mouth is at Yeji’s again, your tongues sloppily entangled in one another's.

It’s almost rhythmic, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as your hand ventures under her shirt to caress her breasts. Yeji hates bras, she thinks they’re an old world torture device, and her refusal to wear them has always made you happy. Especially now. They’re so plush and tender, fitting perfectly into your palms as if they were meant to be there.

You reach back to trace the outline of the bulge forming in Hyunjin’s sweatpants. He groans when you apply pressure, your fingers wrapping around as much of him as you can. You descend into a sea of moans, ravenously reaching for any part of each other you can. Clothing’s shed between kisses, between glossy eyed cries of ecstasy, until the three of you are completely naked, bodies intertwined.

Yeji lays back on the bed, her head nestled comfortably on your pillow, and watches Hyunjin play with you. He has you positioned on your knees facing her as he kneels behind you, one arm tucked beneath your tits and the other around your waist. He holds you close to his chest, fingering you at a merciless pace. “Jinnie, oh, fuck. So good” you moan, rocking your hips to feel him deeper.

Hyunjin leans into your ear, his breath tickling the tiny hairs on your neck. “Is it good, baby? Hmm? I make you feel good?” His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard, his need for you bringing out an aggression that has you clenching even tighter than you already were. Yeji licks her lips, catching a glimpse of the way your juices glisten on Hyunjin’s fingers.

“Can I taste?” she asks, parting her legs to run her expensively manicured fingers through her folds. What’s between her thighs is nothing short of a work of art. She has the prettiest pussy you’ve ever seen and it’s dripping all over your sheets. You’ll never wash them again. Hyunjin eases his fingers out of your core, raising them to your lips. You take them into your mouth, sucking them clean before leaning down to kiss Yeji.

“Mmm, such a tasty little cunt” she hums, her knuckles bumping your clit as she rubs her own. Snatching her by the wrist, you bring her fingers to your lips and run your tongue over them. She tastes amazing. Good enough to eat. “I’m not the only one who’s tasty” you smile, this new side of you making her blush.

Hyunjin grabs you by the hips, pulling you towards him so that your ass rests in his lap and your face hovers just above Yeji’s core. He slaps your ass one cheek at a time, far too in love with the way it jiggles. “Hyunjin!” you giggle, jumping a bit at the sting of his slaps, “Cut it out. I’m trying to eat here.” He aligns himself with your entrance, stretching you with his thick tip before stopping to watch you squirm.

Yeji snakes her fingers through your hair, her clit twitching in anticipation. You waste no time plunging your tongue into her, your face buried between her legs. She tastes even better this way, walls fluttering around your tongue. Hyunjin thrusts into you and your knees almost give out. “No, no, no. None of that” he scolds, slapping your ass harder this time, “Stay up for me so I can fuck you the way you deserve.”

Another thrust and you’re squealing into Yeji’s pussy. The vibrations are heavenly, heightening the feeling of your tongue flicking at her g spot. Your bodies sync together effortlessly. Every snap of Hyunjin’s hips. Every light suck of Yeji’s clit. Every tug of your hair and moan she sends flowing through the air. Everything builds into the next, taking the three of you beyond your limits.

“Look at me” Yeji mewls, cupping your cheeks to lift your face up. She wishes she could take a picture of you like this, kitten licking her slit with those bright beautiful eyes of yours fixed on her. “I-I…cum…gonna—” You purse your lips around her clit, circling it with the tip of your tongue while you suck it harder the closer she gets.

Hyunjin kisses up your back, pressing so deep into you that you begin to tremble. Your gaze remains locked on Yeji and hers on you. You see her body tense, a fleeting look of shock washing over her face before her body’s spasming. She rides your face, eyes rolling back as she floods your tongue with her cum.

No matter which direction she twists in you try to follow her but it’s hell when every ridge of Hyunjin’s cock is flush against your walls. He throws his head back, finding it difficult to wrap his mind around how good you feel. It’s almost too much. The fullness in your lower stomach grows the deeper he strokes and you just know you can’t hold out any longer. Yeji knows too, holding your hands as she floats down from her high. 

“Cum for us pretty girl.”

“Fuck, yes, let me feel you.”

The sound of their voices melded together is sexier than it has any right being. In an instant you lose control of your limbs, your eyes falling shut as you’re overwhelmbed with pleasure. Hyunjin pulls back a little, sliding you up and down to see how completely coated in you he is. Watching himself disappear into you, your cream decorating his cock, pushes him over the edge.

Just as the fullness inside of you begins to calm down, he’s pumping more than enough cum into you to bring it back twice as strong as before. But you couldn’t handle another orgasm if you wanted to. You’re ready to collapse. Hyunjin rubs your back, comforting your weakened form before his own body gives out on him. You roll over onto your backs, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief of what just happened.

What does this mean for your friendship? Will this change things between you? Or will you just wake up tomorrow and pretend it never happened? As your collective gasps for air quiet, a sense of peace falls across the room. Yeji scoots in closer to you, throwing a leg across your waist and Hyunjin snuggles up to your belly.

“You know…” Hyunjin mumbles, his eyes barely open, “You never actually chose.” Filing through the haze in your brain, you realize that he’s right.

“Uh, hmm, I’ll tell you a secret then I guess.”

“Oh, sweetie” Yeji sighs, playfully pinching your cheek, “I think we already know.”

[justafewsmallsteps]

Another quick art and ficlet for @kagomes-hanakotobamatsuri ! This one focused on Week 3, Fertility and I used the Yellow Rose (new beginnings) as my inspiration flower. I started writing this while I was pregnant 2 years ago, but didn’t get around to finishing it until now.

Title: Potatoes Word Count: 1113 Rating: T Pairing: Inukag Warnings: Pregnancy

Try as she might, Kagome couldn’t help the uncontrollable (and unreasonable) flood of negative emotions that came with her unfulfilled pregnancy craving.

Wacdonald’s, of all things. Of course she was craving one of the most unobtainable foods possible in Sengoku and one of the easiest to find in her modern Tokyo. 

She didn’t really feel regret at leaving the modern world behind, not with Inuyasha and a life of friends and nature to surround her, and yet… 

Kagome found herself seething in angry tears. Angry at her body, angry at her attitude, angry at life. While she was always an emotional person, this hormone-induced storm was driving her crazy. She felt everything stronger, and no amount of logic or sleep was pulling her out of it because when she really really thought about it, it was all so unfair. She was raging at the world for making her choose between one family and another. The past was her future, and the future was now her past. But why did she have to choose? Why couldn’t she have a child with the love of her life and introduce her baby to her mother and grandfather and brother? Her righteous sorrow and her selfish cravings swirled into an indistinguishable mass of feelings. One second there was joy, another pain, the next irrepressible annoyance. She was guilty that she felt this way, upset as a tantruming toddler over a greasy burger and salty fried potatoes. 

And ultimately she was sad to be so far from her mother. 

Her thoughts turned to her poor husband. 

Inuyasha had been very sweet since she’d gotten back, and her pregnancy ramped up his doting completely. From warming her bath, to fetching her the ripest fruits, to building her the most comfortable approximation of a mattress possible, she felt spoiled and grateful. But her pregnancy-addled brain and hormonal body had her feeling so at odds with her heart. She loved being here. She loved her friends and the family they found in each other. She loved Inuyasha. 

Yet she longed for the crepes at the Shinjuku station mall, ice cream from a stand, steak from the grocery store cooked at home… her mouth was practically a waterfall at the thought. But by far the biggest craving was a Wacdonald’s cheeseburger with extra cheese and a side of fries dipped in ketchup. Make that two sides of fries. She could cry thinking about it, which she knew was stupid. 

It didn’t help that so many things made her feel nauseous. She’d helped out with pregnant mothers before, giving them herbs to help, learning from Kaede the rough timeline. She’d given reassurances and her best empathy, but in the throes of morning sickness Kagome wished to strangle her past naivety—and as much as she adored Kaede, the woman never actually had to go through pregnancy. 

Sango helped the most, understanding her anger, giving practical advice to give her the slightest relief. After all, carrying the twins had been an ordeal.

But Kagome was tired of ginger root and plain rice. 

She was tired in general. It has been such a joy to find out she was pregnant, and the first few weeks were a breeze. Then the morning sickness kicked in and subsequently kicked her ass. Morning sickness. God, it was unending sickness. Any time of the day sickness! She huddled under her blanket, willing the fatigue and nausea away. 

Then Inuyasha emerged from the door with her requested pile of potatoes. His look was apprehensive. He wanted to help her in any way he could, knowing that his wife often repressed cries for her mother. 

“I scrubbed ‘em already, and the pan’s good to go.” 

“Thank you, Inuyasha.” 

“I’ll cut ‘em too. It’s supposed to be like sticks, right?” 

She nodded. “Not too thin though.” Her husband was really good with a knife. She might be envious of his skills if he wasn’t such a good partner. 

Before he could start chopping, she stopped him. “Wait! Maybe cubes are better. They’ll move around the pan more easily.” 

“‘Kay,” he replied easily. 

Kagome stifled a groan as she slowly got up. Inuyasha had set the pan to heat already, so all she had to do was add the oil. 

“This look alright?” Inuyasha asked, checking in with her about the size. 

“Those look good.” 

Something about the sound of him chopping away triggered something. Everything triggered some emotion or another—but the domestic simplicity of their lives came at her full force as she heard the rhythmic sounds of their knife hitting their wooden chopping block. 

“It’s wonderful,” she whimpered, tears gathering in her eyes. 

“Woah, woah!” The hanyou turned around in concern, his hand immediately at her back to try to comfort her.  “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” she lifted her head and sobbed, unable to hold it back. “It’s just the hormones, but I do think you’re wonderful. I’m so lucky to have you!” she wailed. 

His entire being was on high alert since she got pregnant, and even though he knew emotional outbursts were bound to happen, he still went into overdrive trying to make sense of it and fix whatever he could. “T-thanks.” 

“Thank you for getting me potatoes so we could try making fries. I’m sorry I’m probably going to hate it or throw it up but it’s the closest thing I have to Wacdonald’s.” She wiped her face with her sleeve and sniffled. 

“I told you, woman, I’ll do anything I can. I’m sorry we don’t got wako’s or whatever here.” 

“I’m being unreasonable.”

“It’s normal. You know it is. I know it is. You shoulda seen Miroku while Sango was having her cravings. Damn near swindled every ingredient from every vendor in every town just to find something she couldn’t remember the name of.” 

Kagome gave a watery laugh. “That makes me feel better.” 

“We’ll make something good, and if you hate it and retch I’ll make you two something else.” 

‘Us two,’ Kagome thought in awe, placing her hand on her belly. “We appreciate you.” She sent him a smile and got on her tiptoes to kiss his jaw. 

“Yeah, yeah. If you’re done, I’m going to go finish cutting now,” he brushed off, trying to hide his blush as he turned around. 

“Okay, but we’re following you,” Kagome declared. As her husband resumed chopping the rest of the potatoes, she wrapped her arms around his middle and rested her cheek against his back. 

“I’m gonna be done in five seconds, you know.” 

“Go slower.” 

Inuyasha rolled his eyes, but the quick beat of the chopping slowed to a different, sweeter ballad, and Kagome hummed contentedly along.

[mikachacha]

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 (𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚡 𝙸𝚍𝚘𝚕! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

Synopsis: Bada has been in love with you for three years but didn't have the courage to really ask you out until you accidentally revealed that you're crushing on Bada during the interview you did with Jessi

Warnings: some language and tooth rotting fluff 🤧🤧🫶🫶

(A/N: I'm just trying to get most of my planned stories done because I have a special announcement coming up 🤧)

🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸

Bada sighs as she stands outside your apartment door, nervously waiting for you to come out. She finally found the courage to ask you out for a date. She has been in love with you for three years now but she couldn't make a move since you're an idol and you were prohibited to date. But then everything changed when you accidentally admitted in an interview you had with Jessi, that you are crushing on your choreographer and close friend, Bada Lee.

Jessi was even shocked at your accidental confession. One, everyone thought you were straight as hell and two, she always thought you liked a fellow idol, not your choreographer. When that interview came out, Bada felt like she just won the lottery. Being in love with you for three years and seeing that there's a huge chance for you to feel the same way, Bada threw all precaution out of the window and asked you on a date when you finished rehearsing the choreography for your latest single. You were surprised at first but agreed to go out with Bada because you'd be an idiot if you said no. Plus you're under new management anyways, no one's telling you what to do with your life anymore.

"Hi, how long were you waiting?" you asked when you finally got out of your apartment. Bada's cheeks were warm when she saw you. You looked so beautiful wearing that white dress with a baby blue jacket. It's simple yet it brings out your natural beauty.

"H-hi.. I just got here for a few minutes so it wasn't that long." she says and hands you a bouquet of flowers which you took with a smile. You loved the effort Bada put into this date, it made you swoon. Yeah you dated men before but none of them really made you feel like you're the most beautiful girl in the world. The way Bada looked at you with so much love in her eyes got your heart melting at the sight.

Bada led you to her car, opening the door for you and even securing your seatbelt for you that got you swooning even more. She drove to this fastfood restaurant you picked out because you really didn't want to go to a fancy restaurant on your first date. You wanted the vibes to be chill, to be fun, where you can just laugh with her and eat what you want without worrying way too much.

"This is much better than I expected.." you gasped out as you entered with Bada, arms linked together. She smiles seeing how happy you looked even with simple things. That's what made her fall for you in the first place. Back when you were still in a group, you were the kindest, the simplest and would prefer to stay back and talk with staff, back up dancers like Bada and would even share a meal with them. Then you went for a solo career. Staff and other people who worked with you are always blessed by how caring you are to them then you picked Bada as your choreographer even if she wasn't that known yet.

"You really are adorable." Bada chuckles and leads you to a booth where you were sat across from each other. Both of you ordered your food and while waiting, you took out your phone and took pictures of you and Bada going out on your first date.

"I really wanna cherish this moment. It's not everyday I get asked out by my crush.." you gushed that got Bada laughing and taking her phone out before she took adorable pictures of you.

"It's not everyday that my crush agrees to go out on a date with me so I'm taking lots of pictures as proof that she did go out with me." Bada said and you could swear that you're as red as the ketchup now. You still couldn't believe that you and Bada are crushing on each other. It still feels like a wonderful dream to you.

The date went smoothly, you got to know each other pretty well. Very well that it felt like you've already known each other for 20 years. You shared childhood memories, some stories about your lives and even some embarrassing stories from childhood to highschool life that earned some laughs between you two. You genuinely enjoyed the night you spent with Bada and hoped there would be more.

Ever since that night, both of you only got closer and closer. You'd sometimes crash at her place or she'd crash at yours to hang out, maybe watch a movie while cuddled up to each other. Bada couldn't get enough of you and you felt the same. Rumors of you and her dating has been an ongoing topic on gossip sites but you didn't care. You just let them speculate since you're just enjoying the love Bada showers you with. When you're not too busy, you'd go out on little dates with Bada and you even met her team which was a delight since they're all really nice to you.

"Badaaaaaa I have something to tell you real quick." you called out to Bada and she looked at you, a bit confused. They're all now preparing since they're shooting for Street Woman Fighter's first episode. You were the first to know about the good news since Bada was at your place when she received the email of them being selected to join the competition.

"What is it? You okay?" Bada asked, concerned and you just smiled as you hugged her. It's been a few months since you and Bada started this situation and you felt like you're ready to take it a step further with her. You've never been so sure in your life.

"Bada, I want us to be officially girlfriends now.." you whispered to her and Bada could swear she froze for a moment when she heard those words that she's been waiting for you to say. She then looks at you, then your face to find any hints of you joking around but you looked sincere though very much amused by her reaction.

"Oh my god.. Hold on, let me just process this. Honestly my mind is still processing what you just said." Bada says and you were already shaking from laughter.

"Yeah go ahead and take your time.." you told her and it was after five minutes that the information finally sank in her brain. She hugged you tight and kissed your lips, she's just way too happy that after three long years of being in love with you, she can finally call you her girlfriend.

"Damn I love you so much.. I'll get back to you and we'll talk about this some more after we're done with this. I swear I'll do my best to make you proud." Bada said before they were called for the shooting already. You nodded and kissed her cheek before sending her off.

It has been exactly two months since you and Bada became official that you asked her to move in with you. It was more convenient that way since your place is closer to the studio and a bit bigger so you can let team Bebe crash in as well especially when they finish working so late in the night. Living with Bada has been pure bliss. You loved waking up next to her even if she wakes up really early. It just tied everything together and you couldn't be any happier.

[flowerfan2]

Eddie is different, afterwards.  Dustin doesn’t understand why no one is doing anything about it.  It’s like the spark has gone out of him, except with Eddie it wasn’t just a spark, it was fireworks, and now he’s like the old flashlight Dustin once found at the back of his closet that barely flickered.

When Eddie doesn’t even want to play D&D, Dustin tries talking about it with Will.  He tells him he doesn’t know why Eddie can’t just snap out of it, and Will glares at him like he suggested raising another baby demodog.  In retrospect, maybe he shouldn’t have made light of being trapped in the Upside Down with the only other guy he knows who went through the same thing.

Dustin knows Eddie’s gone through some shit, he does.  But the truth is he misses him, misses his confident swagger, his disdain for people who are afraid to wave their freak flag high.  He misses his big smile, and his crazy faces.  He misses the way Eddie took care of his little lost sheep.

The government gave Eddie and Wayne a new trailer, but Dustin hasn’t seen it yet.  Max spends as much time as she can with El or hanging out at the Wheeler’s, saying the trailer park still feels haunted to her.  Dustin wonders what it’s like for Eddie, still being there every day, in the place he saw Chrissy die.

Dustin goes to summer camp again, and for a while he’s able to put it all out of his mind.  Suzie is there, and being with her is awesome.  For four weeks he tries to pretend that the insanity and terror of living in Hawkins is no big deal.  But then he comes back home.

After a few days of riding around town on his bike and hanging out with the party,  Dustin decides to organize a trip to the arcade.  He tries to call Steve for a ride, but there’s no answer at his house, and when he goes to get the walkie Mike stops him, saying he thinks he’s busy.  Dustin protests for a while, but finally gives up when El tells him that the Byers are having a barbeque that weekend and he’ll see Steve then.

Saturday dawns hot and bright, and Dustin puts on his favorite camp shirt and heads over to the Byers’ new house early.  Joyce gives him a warm hug, like always, and he goofs around with Will until Jonathan forces them to help set up chairs in the backyard.  People start arriving around lunchtime, but it isn’t until he’s eaten two ketchup-drenched hot dogs and an overcooked burger that he sees Steve arrive, Eddie trailing close behind him.

He wants to run over and give Eddie a giant hug, better even than the one Dustin got from Joyce, but Robin suddenly appears next to him and puts a hand on his arm to hold him back.  “Let him ease into it,” she says softly.  Dustin doesn’t know why Eddie would need to ease into hanging out with his friends, but something in Robin’s tone tells him not to argue.

Eventually Dustin decides enough is enough.  He finds Eddie in the house, sitting next to Steve on the couch, talking softly with Hopper who is leaning against an armchair.  They all swivel their heads towards him when he pokes his head in, and Hopper nods and leaves the room, grunting some kind of greeting at Dustin as he goes by.

“Hey, what’s up?”  Steve says, and Dustin stumbles over both his feet and his words as he throws himself at the two of them.  Steve catches him and holds him tight, and he feels Eddie wrap an arm around him too.

“I want everyone to be okay,” Dustin mumbles, feeling like an idiot but not able to really say anything else.

“We’re okay, dude, don’t worry,” Steve says.  “I mean, Hopper’s grill skills could use some work, but generally speaking that’s not a big deal.”

“Really?  That’s what you’re going with?  You know that’s not what I mean.”  Dustin pushes out of their hold and sits on the coffee table.  He looks at Eddie, and then Steve, who exchange a weird glance, and then Eddie leans forward.

“I’m sorry, bud.  It really wasn’t my year, I guess. But-” Eddie’s eyes flash over to Steve, who gives him a wry grin and knocks their knees together.  “Things are looking up.  I’m okay.  Really.”

Dustin realizes that Eddie does seem better.  He’s completely lost that gray haze.  Even his hair looks better, bouncier, like Steve has been sharing his secrets.  “Do you swear?” he asks, his throat tight.

Eddie laughs, and it makes something glad and joyful bubble up in Dustin’s chest.  Steve looks happy about it too, and he grabs Eddie around his shoulders and pulls him close to his side, making Eddie laugh some more and then rest his head on Steve’s shoulder.  “Yeah, I swear.”

Dustin hears Nancy announcing something about ice pops, and he decides he better get out there before all the good flavors are taken.  “All right.  Fine.  See you around?”

“For sure,” Eddie says, and it’s a little softer and quieter than maybe Eddie was before, but Dustin still feels that warmth inside him.  Because the spark is back in Eddie’s eyes.  It’s not quite fireworks yet, but it’s there, and it’s awesome.  

[ashwhowrites]

Bitchy & mean reader

Y/N was a spoiled brat

She got what she wanted

And she destroyed whoever got in her way

She wasn't nice

Popular because people feared her

Never bothered to have many friends

She doesn't do the fake shit

Boys wanted her

And wanted her bad

But she'd ruin them in seconds

Leave them wishing they never tried in the first place

The day she set her eyes on Eddie Munson

She knew he had no option but to be hers

She fucked him on the first date

Had him crying and begging in seconds

He was a gorgeous crier

Didn't bother to listen to the rumours when he came to school, neck covered in hickies

His puppy eyes following her every move

It happened to every guy in the school

Many felt bad for Eddie

Until they noticed he got special treatment

She actually talked to him the next day

Shoving her tongue down his throat in the middle of class

Grabbing his hand and moving it under her skirt in the bathroom stall

He felt like he died and went to hell

This girl was no way making it to heaven

She loved that he was a soft boy

Quickly protecting him everywhere they went

Two boys were shoving each other in the hallway, one ended up smacking Eddie into a locker

He groaned as he held his head

"WATCH WHAT YOU ARE DOING YOU PRICKS" she screamed. Shoving both boys as hard as she could.

Both smacking into the lockers behind them

Her heated glare disappeared in seconds when her eyes landed on his puppy eyes

"you okay baby?"

Or when a girl decided to trip Eddie in the cafeteria

Laughing as he landed harshly on the ground

She marched over to the table in seconds

Grabbing the girl by her hair and yanking her off her seat

"YOU TOUCH HIM AGAIN AND I'LL KILL YOU!"

Her eyes and tone soft as she helped him up

"it's okay baby. Let's go home"

Or when a server had the nerve to get his order wrong

Eddie excitedly took the bun off of his burger, preparing to drown it in ketchup

A small frown took over his face

"baby what's wrong?" She caught on quickly

"it has mustard. I hate mustard" he admitted quietly

Grabbing a knife and preparing to scrape it off

But she snatched the plate away, marching up to the counter

"BABY ITS FINE" he yelled quickly

Not wanting her to cause a scene

Her pink heels clicked on the floor as she waited

"can I help you?" The server asked

With a polite smile, "my boyfriend asked for no mustard. Would you be able to make him a new one please?"

She may be a bitch but she had manners

Unless they didn't have manners back

"I'm sorry ma'am but he never said that"

"you calling my boyfriend a liar?"

Eddie heard her voice getting mad

Quickly sliding out of the booth to calm her down

"baby it's fine" he said sweetly. Kissing her cheek

"no baby. You want no mustard and you ordered it with no mustard" she said sternly

"no he didn't" the server snapped back

"YES HE DID! HE WANTS A BURGER, SLIGHTLY PINK WITH NO FUCKING MUSTARD!"

Another time they forgot his extra pickles

"is your food right baby?" She asked sweetly

Her pink nails holding his hand

He nodded and lied through his teeth

"perfect"

She eyed his plate

"did you get your extra pickles?" She asked, noticing his plate didn't seem to have a single pickle on it

"no but that's okay. I don't really want them anymore"

But her ass was already walking away

Her tiny skirt flowing on her hips as she walked with purpose

Seconds later coming back with a plate of pickles

Free of charge :)

Eddie simply got whatever he asked for

She had money and she'd buy him anything he wanted

The blue guitar he kept seeing at the mall?

She bought it a day later

The leather jacket he tried on but put back when he saw the price?

She yanked it right off the rack, shoving it in her cart

If he wanted three types of candies at the movie theater, her baby got all three

She was a bitch

A stone cold mean asshole

But with Eddie?

That was her baby

And she would cherish him for life

[violetsiren90]

All I Haven't Said | Namjoon/Reader

Table of Contents: Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3 (part 1), Chapter 3 (part 2)

Pairing: idol!Namjoon/f!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU; idol AU; chapter fic; strangers to lovers; a bit of idiots to lovers, tbh; slow burn; eventual romance; eventual smut; angst (life is messy & hearts are complex); OT7 featured

Summary: You found your soulmate - or rather, he found you. Turns out he's an idol of much acclaim who needs you for very real and unglamorous reasons. What could become of two hearts so used to giving of themselves when they are confronted with needing each other?

Warnings: 18+ (minors, dni), realistic depictions of cancer and cancer treatment; mention of unfeatured character death (previous to plot); emotional health growth and development; eventual smut; feelings and dealing with feelings (no, but seriously, so many feelings)

Author's Note: First and foremost - Blame Me chapter 1 will still be tentatively dropping by the end of the week. However, this just literally wrote itself last night after a couple of drinks and several streams of Lonely 💔. It was the thing that just poured out of me and could not be stopped. It's been simmering in the back of my brain for a while, and so, now that it's out here, I'm going to be posting it in tandem with Blame Me, probably on alternate weeks (if I can manage it, 😅). I want to give credit to those whose works I have read which have come to set the stage for my concept of the soulmate au, and who are far my betters in creative artistry: Matchy, author of balls-to-the-walls masterpiece Trip No Further, Fallencairns, author of lovely work of art Turbulence, and @teenagebountyhunter , to whom I dedicate this work 💜 the author of the ineffably beautiful Namjoon soulmate fic Bloom (RUN to read this immediately) - the inspiration for what is to humbly follow below. If you're checking this out, thanks a million for reading, and please don't be shy in offering feedback should you be so inclined! (Baby fic writer here, constructive criticism always welcome!)

Without further ado, chapter one is under the cut.

P.S. Tag list is open. If you want in, let me know. 😊

P.P.S. In case no one has told you today, you're loved and worthy of love. 🧜💜

“When your hands leap towards mine, love, what do they bring me in flight? Why did they stop at my lips, so suddenly, why do I know them, as if once before, I have touched them, as if, before being, they traveled my forehead, my waist?”

~ Pablo Neruda

Chapter 1: The Cure

Diana dipped another three fries in ketchup and popped them into her mouth.

"So, what do you need to talk about that has you desperate enough to buy me lunch?" She smiled smugly and sipped and her milkshake.

You hadn't touched the burger in front of you, even if you probably should be absolutely relishing in it, considering your future prospects. You picked up a sweet potato fry and stared at it absently.

"I found my soulmate," you stated flatly.

Diana's jaw dropped mid-chew, unpleasantly framing the masticated remains of a mouthful of turkey club.

"Wait, are you serious?" she pressed, round hazel eyes wide and unblinking.

You dipped the fry down into the little cup of ranch and swirled it around slowly.

"Actually, he found me. Well, his people found me," you continued. 

"Huh? So is he some kind of a big deal - wait...they found you? What does that even mean? Wait, no - you have a soulmate?!"

You smiled ruefully. It was kind of nice to see someone else freaking out about it for a change. You had known your little sister would react strongly, which is why you had waited until now give her the news.

"Y/n, ANSWERS," Diana demanded leaning forward to flick your forehead. 

"Ow!" you protested, rubbing the throbbing spot on your brow. "Keep your pants on, geez!"

You sighed. After having relayed this story to your mom, your doctor, a specialist, legal advisory, your best friend, your brother and his wife, and your very disappointed boss, you had gotten pretty good telling it. Yet, somehow, each time the burden of it's truth felt a little heavier. You ate the fry. It was pretty good. You wished it had sucked so it wouldn't be one more edible thing you missed the prospect of.

"So apparently, a couple of years ago a university in Switzerland found a way to match soulmates using DNA testing. Don't ask me about the exact science of it - I do not understand it. What I do know is that it's illegal to use this technology to locate your soulmate in the US."

"Why?" Diana had abandoned her food and was listening with rapt attention.

"Something about privacy rights. Though they've dealt with that issue in Switzerland - people interested in finding their soulmates join a biological registry. I'm sure our government is just waiting to find a way that big pharma can exploit it before they facilitate the process. Anyway, somehow, I ended up in a foreign registry. I guess there is a black market for soulmate data..."

"Oh my god, could I be on the black market?" Diana gasped, slapping her hands over her mouth.

"I guess anyone could, provided they've ever been treated at a hospital, or given blood, or anything of the sort...but calm down! It doesn't even matter unless you have a match, which is rare."

"So he found you on the black market?! That's so fucking sketchy, Y/n."

"It was his company, actually. I got a visit from representatives of an organization called Hybe. They are some kind of South Korean entertainment conglomerate. One of their employees, a musician, is dying of cancer. Seeing if he had a soulmate was a last-ditch effort to save his life. Now everything is banking on me and my cooperation."

You flicked your eyes up to your sister. Her expression had morphed into something far more somber.

"Heavy..." she whispered.

You nodded.

"What are you gonna do?"

You took a bite of your burger. She wasn't going to like your answer. Diana's face changed again, this time registering alarm and indignation.

"No," she murmured, "No, Y/n. You're just gonna do it, aren't you? You're gonna go be the fucking hero! You're going to traipse off to Korea and save his sketchy, ungrateful ass!"

She stood up, her chair screeching back over the concrete and drawing the attention of other diners on the patio. You glanced around apologetically.

"Diana, sit down! And how do you know if he's grateful or not?!" you hissed.

"No!" she countered defiantly, yanking her hand away from where you had reached for it. "You always do this! You never, ever think of yourself. And now you'll be gone forever...is this even safe?"

Tears had started to well up in her eyes, and the glances around you had turned into stares and whispers. You stood up and pulled her into a hug.

"Hey, hey, it's okay! Lets get out of here and I can answer all of your questions, alright?" She sniffled.

"Okay. But you're not leaving me." You smiled and huffed out a laugh pulling her toward the parking lot.

You had anticipated that Diana would disapprove of your decision, and it being as difficult a situation as it was, you had decided to make all the arrangements and choices necessary before telling her. She loved you so fiercely, she would have watched the world burn before letting you break a nail, if she could help it.

After your father's death nearly twenty years ago, you had become protector and provider to Diana and your younger brother Henry, three years her senior, in ways your sensitive and unworldly mother seemed unequipped to shoulder. If they had both not been so established and secure in the trajectory of their adult lives, you would have made it clear to Hybe that you regrettably had nonnegotiable responsibilities right where you were. But Henry was settled into a suburb with a lovely wife and year-old daughter, Diana was set to finish undergrad and head off to nursing school, and the deal with Hybe had actually allowed you to leverage for your Mom's retirement, so you were boarding a flight to Korea next week to take on a new set of cares and concerns.

You tossed your keys on the table on your way into your apartment and collapsed onto your comfy red couch. While Diana rooted around your fridge and loudly complained about the lack of hard seltzer, you sorted through the mail and made a mental note to add a forwarding address on a few of your accounts and subscriptions, including the one supplying you with Nightwing comics. You set the mail aside and took a moment to look around you.

You loved your little apartment. The kitchen was small, but the big window with the spider plant hanging in it made it one of your favorite rooms - the herb garden on the counter and the fully stocked bar above the fridge did nothing to make you like it any less. The earthy brown walls of the living space were littered with shelves full of candles and living plants and quirky curios, and in and amongst them hung framed watercolors of flowers and herbs that you had painted yourself. The record player sat at the ready in the corner by the wall dedicated almost exclusively to books and vinyl. There was a small tv over the stone-lined fireplace. Over your shoulder your soft, queen sized bed with sheer canopy cozily called your named from the single bedroom. 

The whole place smelled like citrus and cinnamon. In every corner, there was you. It was going to be hard to leave the hobbit hole you had so lovingly curated for yourself over the last half-a-decade...especially since you wouldn't be going "there and back again", but just...there.

Diana plopped down next to you,  breaking your reverie.

"So, you're NOT going, but tell me about the huge mistake you ALMOST made," Diana prompted as she side-eyed you, taking a sip of the wine she had poured herself.

You set the comic book you had been thumbing through aside and drew your knees up to your chest as you swiveled to face her impatient stare.

"Last week, a these three people showed up at my door, two men and a woman, and they said they were from a company called Hybe based in South Korea. One of their employees, a singer named Kim Namjoon, has stage 4 liver cancer. I guess they caught it pretty late in the game, so even the most aggressive treatments aren't doing much good. Back in April the doctor gave him two months to live."

"Damn," Diana interjected softly.

"Yeah, that's why all of this is happening so fast. He needs me as soon as I can get there."

"We need you, too," she whispered, reaching out to loop her finger into the top of your sock. You smiled affectionately.

"I know, Di, but you're a grown woman now and you can take care of yourself. You're going to have to and I know you can. Life really won't be that different - you'll be off to school in San Diego anyway! Most of our hangouts were going to be over Facetime...now you'll just have an excuse for a little international travel."

She heaved a stuttering sigh.

"Speaking of travel...Johnny broke up with me," she mumbled.

Your mouth hung open in shock.

"Oh my god, Di, I'm so sorry! Why didn't you tell me?"

She downed her remaining wine and stared into the empty glass, twirling it between her fingers.

"I was gonna, but when I told mom last week she said to wait to talk to you about it because you were dealing with something stressful. Now I know what she meant."

You shook your head.

"Ugh, Mom..."

Your sweet, nonconfrontational mother, while you loved her deeply, was a horrible communicator. Whenever she got involved things like this always ended up worse. You looked at your sister twiddling with her wine glass. She looked so small. And Diana, while she exuded many things, very rarely seemed diminutive. You grabbed her and pulled her to you, and she instantly snuggled into your chest.

"I'm sorry you've had to hold that in all this time," You said softly, stroking her hair, "You really could have told me. How are you doing? Was it bad?"

She shook her head against you.

"Nah, it wasn't so bad. He's going to travel before starting grad school and wants to 'sow some wild oats'," she answered, flashing air quotes.

You couldn't see her face, but the acerbic nature of her tone told you just exactly what she thought of that concept. You snickered. Atta' girl. You'd never liked that guy much, anyway.

"What an asshole," you remarked.

"Yeah, he better not hit me up in a couple of months when he's done fucking his way through Europe."

"Fuuuuuck that," you commiserated. 

"Yeah, so I thought this summer would be our last hurrah. You know, no guys, just you and me...like old times" Diana mumbled in a voice that was all sulking and bottom lip. 

"Ahhh," you said with a smile, "So that's why you are so disappointed. Well, we still have a few days - we can make the most of them!"

Diana lifted her head from your chest and glared up at you.

"Boys ruin everything!" She whined.

You smirked softly.

"Usually I would agree with you, but the one I'm leaving for seems kind of decent, actually."

Diana frowned.

"How do you know? Did he call you or something? Wait, you never finished telling me your story!"

You hummed in assent.

"I mean, there's not much more to tell. I agreed to move out there to bond with him and begin treatment. I signed a really basic contract that will be revised when he is well enough to think about the future - or in a year, whichever comes first. They were pretty quick to meet my terms, I guess they didn't really have much choice since I was the one holding the all the cards."

"What does any of that have to do with him being a good guy?"

"Oh," you blinked, "It doesn't. You see, when they met with me they talked a lot about him. It was almost like a job interview or something. They talked about his accomplishments, his net worth, the importance of his work, and his worthiness as a person. One of the guys was actually one of his bandmates, and he had come specifically as a character reference. They had initially wanted me to sign the contract right there and then - and let me tell you, that kid they brought with them almost convinced me with his giant puppy eyes alone - but in the end I had asked for forty-eight hours to consult legal advisory and think it over. The first thing I did when they left was look him up. You actually probably already know who he is - I think I might have been the only person in the world who didn't. Have you ever heard of BTS?"

Diana jumped back like she'd been stung, clutching her chest.

"Are you about to tell me that your soulmate is a member of the biggest band in the world?" she whispered, her eyes impossibly wide.

You smirked. 

"Not just a member, Di...their leader." Diana shrieked, leaping up off the couch.

"RM??? Your soulmate is RM???" 

Your sister stared at you, agape, while you threw your hands up in indignation.

"I was the only person!"

"Oh my god..." Diana staggered back, demeanor having deviated sharply from disapproval to elation, "My roommate is obsessed with them! She has all these posters - but her favorite, I'm sorry, her bias, is Suga...holy shit, I can't WAIT to tell her she's gonna-"

"Diana," you interrupted her firmly, and her eyes shot up to you.

"Yeah?"

"You can't tell anyone."

Her face fell as she leaned back against the wall beside the fireplace. Clearly this was going to be even more of an emotional roller-coaster for her than it was for you, you thought in amusement. Typical.

"Everyone who I tell has to sign a gag order. You included."

Diana slid down the wall into a slump and knocked her head back.

"This situation keeps harshing my vibes, dude," she whined.

"Well, I'm exceedingly sorry about your vibes, but I'm sure they'll recover," you rejoined sardonically.

"But woah, Y/n, your boyfriend is hot. And rich. And super famous. Your wedding is going to be fucking LIT..." 

"Woah, Nellie!" You cut her off, waving your hands as if you usher her train of thought into the landing strip of sanity.  "Slow. Down. Wedding?? What happened to 'sketchy, ungrateful ass'?! He is NOT my boyfriend. He's supposedly my soulmate. According to some Swiss pseudoscience. We haven't even bonded yet. And if we do in fact bond, that doesn't mean we're a couple."

Diana popped her head up and fixed you with the most incredulous of stares.

"Um, excuse me...soulmates have to touch each other to survive. And I heard that the soulmate connection is better than sex. You're telling me you have the opportunity, nay, the duty, to be up in the business of one of the sexiest men alive, and you're just gonna platonically kick it for the next seventy years?"

You rolled your eyes.

"I mean, if that's what he wants - if that's what I want. Soulmates doesn't automatically equate lovers. I've been reading about people's experiences and there are some soulmates who bond platonically. Some people are already with romantic partners when they meet. Some don't share a sexual orientation that makes them compatible as lovers..."

"Oh my god, Y/n, could you please not kill the sexy by going all nerd on this?" She asked you in exasperation as her finger swiped at her phone screen.

Suddenly she shoved the phone out toward you, while tapping frantically with a neon yellow acrylic nail on the image she had summoned. She was saying something humorous and complaintive but you weren't listening. You were looking at the man in the photo.

You hadn't seen this one in your superficial search-engine dives. It was a headshot. His hair was a light brown, full at the top and styled away from his face. His skin was darker than in many of the other images you had seen, emanating a beautiful golden glow. He was smiling just enough for his right dimple to softly grace his cheek. His features were strong, masculine, and incredibly handsome. All of that was already striking, but his eyes, oh, his eyes - they were staring directly at the camera, irises only half visible under his lidded gaze, warm and sincere, so incredibly intense.

The hair stood up on the back of your neck and your breath caught in your chest in spite of you. You closed your eyes and sucked in a breath. You needed to calm down. He was just a person. Good looking? Yes. Charismatic? Obviously. But you had a job to do, and no time to screw around with schoolgirl daydreams. He probably had a girlfriend. No, definitely, he definitely had one. And hey, he was just a person, like you. No need to be star struck.

Diana had been continuing her rant, completely unaware of being ignored, when she had let out a high pitched squeal of laughter.

"Oh my god...oh my god!" She shrieked.

"What?" You snapped, your hormone-wrestling train of thought cut off abruptly.

She stared at you, lips pressed together as if she was trying to contain more loud giggles.

"What??" You demanded impatiently, your limit for her antics very swiftly approaching.

"RM. K-pop superstar, probably one of the coolest people ever born, gets YOUR dorky ass as a soulmate, HAH!"

"Hey!" you deflated, unimpressed with what she considered to be so vastly comical.

"Oh that poor man!" she pushed dramatically, "That poor, poor man. You're the least graceful, geekiest person in the western hemisphere. What will you even talk about? Good thing you don't speak Korean, you'd probably bore him to death! Shit, at least you're pretty..."

You folded your arms over your chest defensively.

"Hilarious. But actually, he's fluent in English. And I read somewhere that he likes art..."

"Y/n, he's rich," she interrupted condescendingly, "All rich people like art. It's a huge flex to own an original. If I was a billionaire I'd 'like art' too. Oh my god, I just can't believe this is happening. Like he's crazy famous..."

"And very, very sick," you reminded her softly.

Her expression fell into something contrite.

"Oh, shit, I forgot," she murmured.

"I'm glad you're excited for me, Di. It really made me feel a lot better about the whole situation seeing you get some kind of joy out of it. But I can't stress enough that this isn't a fairytale. Who knows how he feels about resorting to this. I guarantee you this is as hard for him as it is for me."

Diana crossed over to the couch and skooched in next to you.

"All jokes aside, he's lucky to have you, Y/n. You love at a thousand percent. Even if you guys just end up being soul-buddies, or whatever, he hit the jackpot," she smiled at you, that sweet smile that made you rethink everything for one split second.

Now it was your turn to try to hold back tears.

"I'm gonna miss you," she murmured, "But I respect what you're doing."

"Now that he's famous?" You prodded with a teasing smile.

"Yeah, now that he's famous," she conceded. 

You pulled her into a hug. The silence that hung around you was pregnant but comfortable. Diana finally broke it with a soft question.

"So you're really going to give your whole life away for a total stranger next week?" she whispered.

"Mmhm," you hummed somberly into her hair.

"Why you always gotta be like Dad?"

A familiar lump began to form in your throat, but you swallowed it back. You always did. And Diana fell asleep in your lap one last time. You stroked her hair as you thought back, rather emotionally exhausted, over your conversation. It seemed like people thought of the soulmate connection as some kind of miracle. You didn't believe in those. People made choices, and those choices governed reality. You had just made the biggest choice of your life, and if it was like any of the other roads you had taken, it would require much of you. 

The following day was your last at work. Your coworkers had greeted you with pizza, cake, flowers, and hugs. It was touching to realize how much you would be missed. Your boss, Shauna, hovered as you gathered you belongings from your desk. 

"Damn it to hell, I'm gonna miss you!" She mourned for the umpteenth time.

You smiled as you tucked your little philodendron into the box, placing it next to the canvas speckled with daisies that read "You Matter" in curly green letters. 

"You have an amazing team here, you guys will do great," you insisted, patting her hand where she leaned on your desk.

"Um, a great team of people you trained!" she said, consoling herself with a swipe of frosting from what had once been a beautiful red velvet cake with white buttercream.

You leaned beside her on the desk, joining her in sadly picking at the dessert remains.

After you had graduated with your degree in social work, you had landed an internship in a program which Shauna was running. The two of you quickly discovered you had similar passions and community goals, and the following year had left the program to start Magnolia Village, a one-stop shop for women's services sadly unprecedented in your area. While the startup had been rough, your passionate duo had believed in the need and refused to say die, and from your mutual blood, sweat, and tears had blossomed a cornerstone of the local community. Over the years it had grown and extended its reach to thousands in need of support. Many of the staff were women who had first come through the door seeking services, and were now your partners in providing the aid they had found empowering in their hour of need.

You were immensely proud of what the two of you had built, but leaving the Village was bittersweet, as you were more confident than ever that it had grown into a well-oiled machine powered by lovely, capable people who could keep it going at full tilt without you.

"This place basically built itself, we just propped up the scaffolding," you remarked, glancing around the building fondly - what had once been a residential fixer-upper was now a cozy space of offices, a nurse's station, six emergency beds, sanitation services, and a food pantry

"Bitch, you know very well that I am the bulldozer and you are the heart and soul of this place. We are going to feel it when you leave. You better come back and visit us. Mirabell is going to do a good job filling your shoes, though. Watching her step up to the plate has been something else." 

"It has," you nodded, "She's going to kick ass. You might just forget I was ever here by the end of next week."

Shauna turned uncharacteristically tearful eyes toward you.

"I will never forget you," she choked.

Then suddenly you were being crushed in a bear hug. You returned her embrace until you thought you might actually pass out from lack of oxygen.

"Okay, I love you, but I'm about to asphyxiate!" you wheezed, slapping her on the shoulder.

She let you go, but grabbed your arm and looked at you seriously.

"I want you to promise me one thing," she said, holding your gaze.

You cocked your head to the side. Shauna released your arm to clasp both your hands in hers.

"I want you to promise me that when you get to Korea, you find something that you're gonna do for yourself."

You started to respond but she stopped you.

"Something for yourself. It doesn't matter what it is, but it can't be for your soulmate, or your family, or anyone else however deserving...just you, okay?"

You looked at her quizzically.

"I do stuff for me..." 

"Don't get swallowed up, baby girl. Find someone to ground you, to remind you that you're worth more than what you have to offer."

You scoffed.

"I'd like to see someone try and swallow me..."

"Y/n,"

"What?"

"Promise me."

"Okay," you nodded, "I promise."

Shauna squeezed your hands, then went back to chipping away at the mass of red crumbs and buttercream.

A little twinge of worry twisted in the pit of your stomach. You were strong. Resilient. No one could bounce back like you, could survive like you. People knew this - they had been telling you so since you were ten years old. So why was everyone acting like you were being cast out to sea without a life preserver? 

You had spent the weekend with your family. Henry and Mercedes had even driven down, Elena in tow, to have one last Sunday dinner and see you off to the airport. Hugs and tears and small parting gifts had made leaving even harder than you had imagined.

When you finally boarded the plane your eyes were red and your head was throbbing. After the plane had gained enough altitude to allow you to unfasten your seat-belt, you had slipped into the restroom to rinse your face. You returned, plopping down next to the man who would accompany you during your first few days of transition.

"I'm getting booze when they wheel it by, Matt, so don't try to stop me," you huffed, gesticulating in mild threat with the book you had extracted from your carry-on at the suited figure sitting in the window seat.

The handsome older gentleman smiled, not lifting his eyes from the copy of the Korean Herald in his hands.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he responded, flipping a large, thin page.

Matt Anders had been many things to you in life. Before you were born, he had been your father's best friend. He had been the best man at your parent's wedding. He and his wife, Rebecca, had cared for you and your siblings during your mother's sanitarium stay. He had tutored you for the SAT score that had earned you a full ride to the university that had saddled you with a BS in social work and minor in English literature. Today, he was your attorney. Matt, who had an IQ of 146, had learned basic Korean so that he could translate for you and make sure that your interests were looked after as you settled in. Having him there made you feel one hundred percent more secure about the process. He, for instance, had been the one in negotiations to ask for the very cush business-class fight accommodations you were new settling into.

"Whatever you would do for him, you'll do for her. I want an equality of treatment clause added with no addendums."

You smiled to yourself as you remembered his exchange with the Hybe's representation. He had asked for things you would have never asked for yourself, and you felt better having access to them knowing that he felt you were deserving.

The flight attendant sweetly asked if you would require any refreshments. You asked for two whiskey and cokes, and handed one over to the man beside you. You took a long, refreshing sip.

"Damn it, I wish I had appreciated food more," you sighed, looking ruefully at your glass.

"What are you going to miss the most?" Matt asked before sampling his own beverage.

"Cheese. I can't believe I'm saying that, but in the end I just love cheese. And there are so many kinds I haven't tried. Do you know there's this Italian cheese that comes in the shape of a pear? It's super expensive because of the breed of cow the milk is sourced from. It's supposedly suuuuper creamy. But, hey, now I'll never know if it's as rich and complex as they say..."

You took another sip of your drink.

"Caciocavallo Podolico," Matt remarked casually, returning to his newspaper.

"Excuse me?"

"The cheese you described, it's called Caciocavallo Podolico," he reiterated.

"You know, I should be used to it now, but I'm not. Don't think I'll ever be. How on earth do you know this stuff?" you insisted incredulously.

"Read it once," he shrugged, "And it's actually pretty famous as far as cheeses go."

"Catch-a-vayo Picadillo..." you murmured.

"No," Matt interjected succinctly. "Anything you want to go over again? We have the time, Lord knows."

You sighed.

"Can't think of anything right now. What did you think of the list of questions I sent you?" 

"Very good," he nodded, "I'll be adding a few of my own, that I think should come from me, if you don't mind."

You swirled the ice in your plastic cup.

"Of course not. Thanks again for coming with me, I'd be pretty lost without you."

Matt smiled at you again, reaching over to squeeze your arm.

"You'd do just fine. But you would be flying coach."

You smirked and cracked open your book. As you flipped to your marked page, a colorful, sturdy rectangle of paper fluttered to the ground at Matt's feet. He reached down and picked it up, regarding it with a curious eye before you could snatch it quickly away and tuck it back between the pages of My Antonia.

"New bookmark?" he queried.

"Something like that," you murmured.

You thought he might press you further about the Hangul characters he had surely noted on the back, but just then the captain's voice crackled over the intercom reiterating the weather conditions in Seoul and you took the opportunity to bury your nose back between the pages. You glanced clandestinely over at Matt, who had settled back into the Korean Herald, before pulling the little watercolor card from between the pages where it had been hurriedly concealed. Your eyes traced over the purple clematis trailing elegantly across the illustration as you wondered if 12 hours was, in fact, a millisecond or an eternity.

-End Ch. 1-

[gojoscloset]

Coward pt. 2

Gojo Satoru x Reader angst

Warnings: Angsty , not proof read, written at work, sexualized themes / NSFW

Continuation of Coward pt. 1

————————

Please read before we continue:

Hello Angels it’s been a long long time I know I know I’m really sorry! Every time I get my creative juices flowing the world brings someone into my life that only wants to fuck with my emotions and then I stray away from creative things and yada yada it’s a never ending cycle honestly! Originally the chapter was going to be a lot longer but I felt bad that I’ve been leaving some of y’all hanging without a hint or context so I split it just to give you guys something for now and hopefully I’ll bring more to the table next chapter! (^: I’ve actually been reading hella fanfic so it’s gotten me back into my zone and I know I always say this but hopefully I’ll get back into the swing of things! Much love, hope you all have a good day and enjoy! Also if it applies, happy holidays ❤️

Let’s continue shall we?

——————-

“Here you go baby, this one’s on the house. You look like you could use a little pick me up.”

You snapped out of your thoughts and watched the waiter as she placed a to-go cup of coffee in front of you.

“Also, we closed a few minutes ago, but take your time darling, no rush.” She gave you a knowing smile and left you alone to return to your thoughts. You managed to thank her before she headed to the back, assuming she was finishing up her cleaning duties before going home.

You finally looked up and around the diner, it was empty and quiet with the exception of the soft music playing in the background and sounds of cooks and servers cleaning up in the heart of the house. You arrived around midday, but the sun set long ago, how long have you been there?

You gathered your things and cleaned up your booth a little, placing a nice tip underneath a ketchup bottle before walking back home. Moments like these were not unfamiliar to you, well at least not anymore. You thought about all of it on your way home and how the lines blurred drastically after Gojo left. Your days felt meshed together and it was hard to separate the happier emotions from the negative. Everything that normally felt good felt plain. Bland. Numb. To say Gojos absence shook your world was an understatement.

The world continued to spin but your world felt like it was falling apart for weeks now, yet You were forced to live life normally when all you wanted to do was lie down for a long long time and let flowers bloom from your chest. But of course, this was real life, and the show must go on.

Your immediate friends and family knew about the situation, (albeit not in detail). They tried their best to get you into better spirits. Invitations to outings, being forced out of your home for drinks and the occasional club.You knew they meant well with all the drinks and parties and outings, but god you hated it. You hated having to get ready, and hated when you would have to re-blend your makeup, or redo your lashes because you started to cry halfway through.

Or when you would constantly remind yourself not to unfocus your eyes and dissociate in front of your friends. Or when someone would say something funny and you had to fake laugh and fake match the energy your friends were putting out so you wouldn’t accidentally let it slip how bad you were actually doing.

Pretending to fix your hair or makeup in the restroom just so you could look at yourself a little longer in the mirror. Well rather the shell of you.You tried your best to mask it all, but everyone knew the look, heartbreak was a universal thing. You could cloak your sadness with alcohol and cheap thrills but everyone knows at some point the party has to come to an end.

In other words your friends knew, and you knew they knew. How could they miss it when you yourself would look in the mirror and see a fake bitch looking back at you? You felt just as fake as the man who did this to you. You had the same lifeless look in your eyes, you looked just like him.

—

“Everything alright?” A voice called to you from the bottom of the steps of your complex. It was your neighbor, Jun, casually smoking what looked like a USB port.

‘Damn, when did I make it home?’ You thought but smiled at him

“Yeah, um I was thinking about work, but I’m doing alright, thank you .”

“Positive? Because I haven’t seen you or the tall one in a while. I don’t hear y’all laughing when I walk my dog anymore.”

You cleared your throat, temporarily getting rid of the lump forming, just enough for you to speak without sounding like you were going to cry.

“Ha….yeah …Let’s just say he’s not in the picture anymore.” There was an uncomfortable moment of silence after you said that.

“He didn’t deserve you anyway” Jun had no idea what the situation was, but you could always tell he was for the girls, apparently having been raised in a house full of women. (Information gained after knowing him since the day you moved to these apartments.)

You fake laughed and shook your head. “It is what it is, I suppose. But you know, life continues.” You gave him another smile and watched him take another hit of his vape.

“True. But also” he exhaled the smoke blowing it away from your direction. “You don’t have to pretend with me. Breakups aren’t easy, especially when you’re alone. I won’t pry, but if you need to talk about it, like really talk about it, you know where to find me.”

—

You actually ended up accepting Jun’s offer a few nights later. It was another one of those days where you had the mighty strong urge to drastically change some part of your life to feel like you were in control. You suggested going bald. Jun, however, suggested you look for another job, one that ‘wasn’t remote so you could interact with other people, rather than being locked in your home for days at a time.’

You also mentioned to Jun how you felt like you were going crazy constantly thinking about Satoru. How he would plague your mind 24/7 and you felt like a psycho for always thinking of him.

“We’ll if you feel like you’re going crazy, do something crazy. But obviously not something that will hurt you or others. But whatever you choose, get out of your comfort zone.”

And that you did.

If someone told you a few months ago you quit your remote job to work as a bartender at a bar that caters mainly to the ‘male gaze’ you would probably look at them crazy and offer them a number to a hotline, yet here you were

“Frozen or on the rocks?”

Working your charm at the bar, something you hadn’t done since before you moved to Japan. It was a leap of faith, and a damn good one if you do say so yourself.

Despite it being a very risky decision, to you this has been one of the most refreshing decisions you’ve made in a while. Sure you hated going to places like these with your friends in efforts to forget about Satoru, but it was different when money was involved. You finally felt like you paved a way to healing, everything felt great, for the moment.

You knew the few shifts a week would turn into being scheduled for the whole week. But you didn’t mind, the burnout felt good as hell as it was a socially acceptable form of self harm. But what you liked the most was you rarely had time to think about Satoru. It was always Wake up, get ready for work, work, go home, sleep,repeat. There was no time to think of boys, only time to think about what drinks were next in queue.Ticket after ticket, tip after tip the money came fast, and you spent it slow. Sure, sometimes you would be tired,or you would have to miss events you were interested in, but when the money talks, you listen.

—-

Working at the bar had its perks financially, sure however there was something else you slowly grew a liking to, one that unfortunately motivated you just as much as the money.

Attention.

You swore up and down that you were only doing it for the money. That your flirtatious choice of words were simply to sway your customers for your own gain, but there was much more behind your coquettish behavior.

It definitely made you feel guilty at first, like you were still somehow tied to him. Nonetheless you talked sweet to men because you knew you attract more bees with honey, and you were your sweetest if they were handsome, or if they looked like they could hand-some money over. Money was cool for a while but the validation?The attention that you gave to other men? It did something to you.

Secretly, the flirting and constant attention was a form of revenge for you. One you felt was harmless but actually had consequences.

In the moment where you knew you had someone around your finger your thoughts moved to Satoru. For a split second you would think about how much it would hurt him if he knew, and it felt good even if it was just for a few seconds. What you didn’t know was revenge actually releases dopamine, something you’ve been lacking for a while now which is why it was easy to get hooked on this rebound behavior in attempts to fill the void money stopped filling. The desire also influenced your appearance, having you invest in a number of things from Acrylics to lashes and tattoos, to expensive perfumes and hair extensions. Small things that made a big difference in how men treated you, and how they tipped you. You saw the difference it made, and you wanted more. The flirty conversations at the bar top soon turned into heated (but safe) one night stands with whoever you chose, continuing to fuel your petty reasoning.

Shamefully when the alcohol hit and things got nasty you would daydream about Satoru walking in on you and whoever you were with so he could see what he left behind, so he could hurt like you were hurting.

Even if you knew this was all in your head.

—

It was one of the busiest nights at the Bar, nothing you weren’t used to. The music blasted in the building putting you in the zone, like you were on autopilot.

You timed and coordinated everything to ensure a good shift, you organized the drinks, socialized with the customers and made sure everyone was happy, it was your job after all.

On top of everything it was a themed night at the bar, lingerie night to be exact. The girls wore their best lingerie, nothing that would have their bits all on display, but pretty damn close! And you were no exception, you wore your best embroidered lace set, tight ribbons squeezing your torso and thighs to give your figure the ‘squishy’ look. You knew they were a sucker for lace and ribbon. You did a darker western makeup look this time, something sexy and bold to stand out a little more.

——

Two tall figures approached the bar top, and you turned to them, multiple beers pressed against your chest and you popped them open back to back quickly “hey babes! I’ll be right -“ you froze in place and almost dropped everything in your hand.

You made eye contact with Geto and smiled, shaky but it counted. You didn’t even have to look at the other man to know who accompanied Geto, the two were attached at the hip, but you did so anyway, catching a glimpse of the face you’ve been trying to forget. But how could you forget a face like his? A face that was proof that God does in fact have favorites.

“I’ll be right with y’all!” You smiled again and turned to the other side of the bar, tossing coasters in front of the gentlemen like frisbees. You placed the beers down, your hands and feet ran cold, fingers shaking slightly. Your heart was definitely in your ass by the time you placed the last beer on the coaster, you cleared your throat and tried shaking it off mentally bracing yourself for impact.

“Hey, how ya doin’? What can I do for you boys ?” You smiled, focusing your gaze on Geto, trying your best to look at Gojo as little as possible without being rude.

But of course he was the first to speak, pointing at the menu.

“Which one do you recommend? I’m more of a sweet over bitter kind of guy?” He looked at you through his shades and gave you HIS smile. Then it hit you. They either probably had no idea who you were or they were pretending. But Gojo wouldn’t pretend in a scenario like this.

“Hmmm, anything from this particular page is good, and the first three are our top sellers!” You flipped his menu a page over and pointed a shaky finger at a boxed area containing the bar's popular sugary drinks.

You could smell his cologne when you got closer to take a look at the menu in his hand. Satoru was a man with expensive taste, and he never chose scents everyone else had and as hard as it was to admit, he smelled delicious. Your body remembered his scent, and you had to take a small step back to gather your bearings.

“What about you handsome, what can I get for you ?”

You turned to Geto, using him as a way to get away from Gojo momentarily. You could feel the heat rise to your face and the familiar lump in your throat coming fast, momentarily things felt like they were moving fast but nothing was happening at all.

“Hmm I’m not sure, do you mind if I continue to look?”

“No go ahead, take your time babe! I’ll be back in a sec to check up on y’all.” You smiled and quickly made your way around the bar.

Many tried to flag you down while walking out of the bar area, but you ignored them, it’s not like you could see them anyway, everything was in tunnel vision.

‘No no no no no’ the interaction made your whole body cringe, everything felt dreamy, as if this was an out of body experience and not in the good way.

“Kagi.I have to go. Like right now right now.” You spoke into your head set letting the manager for the night know you were about to dip. Quickly unclasping the headset from your hip and wrapping the wire around the walkie talkie, just in time for you to hear a static “Locker room” from the other end. You quickly rushed to the Locker Room and grabbed your items from your assigned locker, Kagi walked in not long after, approaching you as you frantically put your sweatpants and hoodie on over your outfit.

“Hey what’s wrong?”

You shook your head in response while closing your locker.“ I can’t talk right now, but I really need to leave. Please split my tips amongst the girls and tell them I said I’m so sorry” you zipped up your backpack and made a b line to the door. Kagi had questions, but she let it slide only because this was very out of character for you, she figured it must’ve been urgent and would ask questions later. You pushed Past the doors and past the guests, catching a glimpse of the Snow White hair amongst the crowd once more before rushing out the exit.

—

It was evident you longed for Satoru, yet you found yourself at the doorstep of one of your favorite Booty calls. The door clicked open and he smiled down at you, confused but it was always good to see your face since he knew what you wanted and he knew exactly what to give you. You wasted no time, crashing your lips against his, you needed to feel something, something other than that heavy feeling you constantly carried in your heart.

It was messy and rough. This was probably the nastiest you’ve gone with him, and the roughest he’s been with you. Aggressively grabbing at your body, leaving his markings on your neck,wrists and chest. You did the most in his bed, putting on a show like you would for Satoru, but instead for a man you knew didn’t deserve to see this side of you, but it didn’t matter in that moment. You did it to forget, and to ease the pain away, even if it wasn’t helping. Of all the millions of trillions of things you could think about, all you thought about was him. How easily he seemed to forget about you, and how easy it was for him to give beautiful smiles to others.Things you weren’t jealous of before burned your insides at the thought. You wondered why out of all the bars he chose that bar in particular, though you had no right to judge him when you worked there.

—

The ride from his place to yours was silent. You managed to catch the last train before the stations shut down for the night, and thankfully you were alone.

You took a good look at yourself in the reflection of the windows ignoring the familiar scenery that whizzed by to get a gander at your physical form. You knew you were looking at yourself but even you couldn’t recognize the person in the reflection. You honestly felt like you shouldn’t even be surprised that Geto and Gojo didn’t recognize you back at the bar.

You were quite disappointed in yourself to say the very least. You have been practicing in your head for months what you would say and do if you ever came across him again and clearly it didn’t go as planned. The script you wrote in your head was thrown to the wind, the same wind that blew your cover. You weren’t a hot and sexy ‘boss bitch’. You were overworked and over sexualized, utilizing male validation as a form of escapism.

You turned your head revealing the deep purple bruises all across your neck in the reflection. You grabbed the strings of your hoodie and pulled them tight, hiding the marks as best as you could, you didn’t want to see them, they made you feel disgusted.

The train arrived at your destination and you quickly made your way back home to your apartment. You climbed up the stairs , mentally wishing Jun was home so you could talk your feelings out , but alas he usually worked nights on the weekends, so no luck there.

You pulled your keys out as you reached the last of the steps, wanting to just go home and shower everything off, but you halted immediately when you looked up and saw the devil himself, nonchalantly leaning against your door.

“There you are…. I’ve been looking for you”

[moonbeamwritings]

“This can’t be real.” You whine, your face suddenly feeling hot, the collar of your costume tightening around your throat. Had the elastic strap of your stupid squirt bottle cap hat always been this uncomfortable under your chin? “This is a nightmare. Pinch me. Please, put me out of my misery.”

“A nightmare!?” Your friend whispers incredulously. “This is a dream. Look at him! His friends look hot, too.”

You take a big gulp of your tequila. “I can’t talk to him like this. It’s humiliating.” You gesture to the cheap, ill-fitting ketchup bottle costume you’d adorned for this night out, your life choices coming into sharp, dizzying focus. Why couldn’t you have just worn a revealing costume like a normal person? It’s times like these where committing to the bit isn’t always a good thing.

“Hey,” she scolds, clicking her tongue at you, “ketchup can be beautiful!”

“Not enough to talk to- to that!”

Across the room, in all his beefy, athletic glory is Bokuto Koutarou — your calculus deskmate and occasional study buddy. Someone you’ve had a crush on all semester. Your eyes scan his figure and you realize that no amount of tequila or cheap beer could give you the confidence to go say hi to him. Not like this.

He’s wearing a baby blue crop top, one that’s a size too small and tugs across the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, squeezing at his massive biceps. Drawstring shorts in the same color expose the meat of his thick thighs and for a moment, the breath catches in your throat. What the fuck is in the water for these volleyball guys?

His two friends are in much the same state, red and green get-ups matching Bokuto’s own. The Powerpuff Girls. Bubbles has never looked so intimidating.

“I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die in front of the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, and I’m wearing a fucking ketchup costume.” Tequila angrily sloshes in your cup, threatening to spill.

Your mustard counterpart rests a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I’ll drag you into the yard. Give you a little dignity.”

You nod solemnly. “Thank you.”

Unbeknownst to you, your costume hasn’t escaped the ever vigilant gaze of the famous superpowered trio. In the opposite corner, Bokuto bounces on the balls of his feet.

“That’s them! The one from my calc class!”

Kuroo’s (Buttercup’s) head whips around to follow Bokuto’s gaze. “The witch?”

“No,” Bokuto responds, mildly offended. “The ketchup.”

“Ohh, right. Should’ve guessed.” Kuroo’s eyes roll.

Akaashi (Blossom) chimes in to add, “They were looking over here earlier.”

“They were?”

“I mean, it’s kinda hard not to notice,” Kuroo gestures to the three of them and their lack of clothes, “all of this.”

Bokuto downs the rest of his beer in one, resolute chug, confidence emanating from his very being. “I’m going over there.”

You’re in the middle of lamenting about how ridiculous you look when your friend reaches out to grip your elbow. “He’s coming over here.”

Your face drops, anxiety thrumming through your veins as your heart pounds. “No. No, don’t say that.”

“Oh, look!” She calls, glancing anywhere but at you. “It’s...... that girl that I know! I’ll uh... I’ll see you later!”

You open your mouth to tell her to get the fuck back here, that this is truly an ultimate and bitter betrayal, but the words die in your throat as Bokuto approaches. He beams as he comes to a stop in front of you, like you’re making his night by simply... existing. The sight brings heat to the apples of your cheeks.

Bokuto has to bend a bit to be heard over the music, and you can feel his breath ghosting over your ear as he says, “Hey! How’s it going!?”

“Good! How are you?”

With how close he’s standing now, not only do you get an even closer look at his defined pecs (which seem even bigger up close), but you also notice, much to your amusement, that his spiky hair has been pulled into two pigtails, wrapped together with little blue bows. How someone can manage to be cute and hot at the same time is equal parts infuriating and fascinating.

He smiles like he knows something you don’t, a hint of mischief sitting in the corner of his upturned lips. “I’m good! It’s not every day you get to talk to your favorite condiment.”

You put a hand to your heart as a surprised, teasing grin over takes your face. “Who? Lil’ ol’ me? You’re flattering me!”

“I’m only speaking the truth!”

“Well,” you start, any anxiety you felt before melting away the longer you spend in his presence (and the more the tequila settles in your stomach), “if you must know, Bubbles was always my favorite Powerpuff Girl.”

Bokuto seems thrilled at this, shifting a little to bump his arm into yours. “You’ve got good taste.”

Conversation flows easily after that. You talk about class – he hasn’t done the homework yet and he’s not ready for the test, don’t ask. He asks what your drink of choice is (it’s tequila) and how you landed on ketchup for a costume of all things (it was a joke that felt funnier at the time than it is now). It’s comfortable and breezy, and you regret not coming to these stupid house parties sooner.

You open your mouth to ask if he’d want to study together, and maybe the alcohol had loosened your tongue enough to ask if he’d want to grab coffee too, but you’re interrupted by Buttercup.

Buttercup eyes you for a moment, his eyes flickering between you and his “sister” before a smirk pulls at his mouth. An expression crosses Bokuto’s face, one you can’t read, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“I hate to interrupt,” he interjects, “but it seems we have a situation in the upstairs bathroom. Mind giving me a hand?”

Bokuto sighs, his gaze shifting to yours apologetically. “Sorry, duty calls.”

You smile, a half-hearted thing that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Bokuto. “Go save the city, ladies.”

“I’ll uh-” he pauses as if he’s really considering his next words before a little twinkle alights in his golden eyes, “I’ll ketchup with you later.”

As he turns to leave, you swear you hear his friend shout over the music, “Dude, that was terrible.”

Having lost your condiment companion and your superhero crush, and with no one else to talk to, you decide to venture outside, hoping that the cool October air will help to ease the flush on your cheeks.

You can still hear the music from out here, can listen in on the gossip offered up among friends sharing a smoke at the table in the yard, but now that you’re separate from the party, looking out into the backyard, you can’t help the doubt that creeps into the back of your mind. It’s a blink of a thought, a wisp of smoke in the wind, and you suspect it’s only because you like him so much, but you wonder, idly, if someone like Bokuto could ever be into someone like you. You deflate, dropping your cup on the deck railing and pulling the stupid bottle cap hat off your head. Sighing, you feel stupid all over again.

You spend another few minutes in relative silence before the back door slides open and an excited “I found you!” sounds from behind you.

A hand presses into the small of your back. “I was looking all over for you! I came back downstairs and couldn’t find your little hat in the crowd anywhere.” The thought of him seeking you out again makes your head spin. “I brought you another drink, if you want it.”

Bokuto offers you the cup with a cute, almost sheepish quirk of his lips, and you take it gingerly. A smile forming to mirror his own. You take a sip and it’s the exact drink you had before, mixed to perfection and made all the tastier knowing Bokuto brought it for you. “It’s perfect! Thank you.”

He’s all too pleased by the praise. “I’m glad! I practically had to wrestle the last of the Sprite from some drunk dude in the kitchen.”

His expression and the hand resting on your back make your legs feel like jelly. “My hero.”

“I do what I can for my people! You wanna sit?” He gestures vaguely to the stairs leading to the yard and you nod. Before you can sit, you try, and fail, to pull your costume over your head. It isn’t exactly the most forgiving fabric for anything but standing, and you huff when you can’t bend your arm enough to pull it up and over your head.

“I hate this.” You grumble, dropping your new cup onto the railing right next to your old one. “What the fuck?” You try again and when it doesn’t budge, the annoyance only seems to mount. “This costume is cursed, I swear.”

You bring your hand up to angrily pull at the offending fabric, but Bokuto stops you from tugging again by placing his hand over yours. “Want some help?”

“Please.”

Bokuto needs all of about five seconds to get it over your head, and in that time, the costume drags the fabric of your undershirt up, exposing a sliver of your stomach. His eyes widen and he feels like those memes about Victorian men getting a glimpse at a woman’s ankle.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when you breathe a sigh of relief, plopping the costume onto the ground behind you. “Thank you. God, that was so much easier to get on.”

You collapse onto the deck stairs and pull your cup back into your grasp. Bokuto follows your lead, and when he puts his free hand behind him to rest against the wood, it ends up on top of your own. You don’t move a muscle and neither does he. The moon hangs bright and brilliantly yellow in the sky, painting Bokuto’s face in shadows that bring out his eyes and accent the high points of his face. For the umpteenth time, you think about how pretty he is and the chaos it’s causing in your heart.

You’re broken from your revelry when his eyes meet yours and, unable to hold his curious gaze, the tree in the distance suddenly becomes far more interesting than his side profile. When you’re not looking, Bokuto’s expression is struck by unabashed lovesickness. God, if Kuroo could see him now he knows he’d never hear the end of it.

In the comfortable silence that follows, and free from the confines of your condiment prison, your unasked question from earlier sits on the tip of your tongue. Do you wanna get coffee with me? The question plays over and over again as you rehearse the words and imagine them leaving your mouth. It can’t be that hard, right? People in cheesy rom-coms make this part seem so easy.

As if sensing your hesitation, you feel Bokuto’s hand curl a little tighter over yours. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You’re convincing yourself more than you are him, and it shows. His brows furrow and he seems to lean a little closer to you, awaiting an explanation. “I was just...” You sigh, collecting your nerves. “I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee with me this week? I could help you with the homework, too, if you want?”

Bokuto’s head tilts to one side, and before he can think to stop himself, he asks, “Like a date?”

He watches as your eyes widen. “I mean- I-...” You flounder, your face hot under his gaze. “If you want!”

The grin that overtakes Bokuto’s face is downright blinding, and you’re certain it’s the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen. And, for the first time, you catch a glimpse of his dimples. It should be illegal for one man to be this handsome.

“I’d like that. I don’t have practice on Tuesday. Wanna go at 11? I can pick you up from your dorm and we could go to that place down the street. Get off campus for a while before hitting the books?”

Your nod only spurs his smile to widen, his dimples to deepen. You have to fight the urge to reach out and pinch his cheek. “Sounds good to me.”

“Now,” Bokuto says suddenly, plucking your hat off the ground and fixing it over his pigtails as he moves to stand, “I’m freezing my ass off out here. Get that costume on and let’s go dance!”

With his free hand, he pulls you up. His hand only leaves yours for the second it takes you to pull your costume back on before his fingers are intertwining with yours again. And as the colorful lights of the living room bounce off his face, his laugh ringing out over the music as he pulls you close on the makeshift dance floor, you can’t wait for Tuesday.

[powderblueblood]

the king of hawkins high

hawkins, indiana. 1960-somethin'. al munson reckons with the reality of his brother being shipped off to vietnam, and carries on a years-long tradition of swapping a ring with his best friend, ray doevski. which could mean nothing. cw: swearing, mention of criminal activities, era-typical misogyny and implied homophobia, guys is it gay to wipe motor oil from your homie's face when they've possibly just set a heinous crime in motion, murder but kind of not really. i didnt proofread this i am really just running on the fumes of vibes atp wc: 6.1k. what goes on. tagging @slowdancer, without whose continued interest in the old man yaoi aspect of hellfire & ice, this would not be possible. i appreciate you more than you know part of the hellfire & ice universe

He comes to with his head against the tile. 

Comes to as in wakes up or comes into jettisoned back to sobriety by the force of his own piss stream, he’s not sure, but he is here and he’s awake. 

With his dick in his hand. 

Al’s mouth feels like a fucking shag carpet. Every bud on his tongue has grown its own ecosystem after the amount of beer and whiskey and tobacco and ketchup and mustard and sugar and salt and smoke and someone else’s spit he’s let populate there. 

It’s been a long… however long it’s been, cooped up in this clubhouse on the outskirts of town. 

Undesirable types like to hole up here and pretend it’s a bar, but it functions more as a halfway hovel. Some genius calls it the Hideout. 

Al just about keeps himself steady as he shakes the last drop out (more’n three and you’re playin’ with yourself), zipping his pants back up with a hop that he instantly regrets. A knife slices right through his temporal lobe. 

The tubular bells have begun to ring and remorse starts to churn in his stomach. 

Time’s up, party’s over, away we go home.

Staggering back out into the front bar, Al catches a fond sight–a shapely, tanned rump lying bare across the pool table. Given that he’s missing a shirt, he figures he must have been splayed underneath that body before nature had called. 

God given miracle he’d made it to the bathroom in whatever state he was in.

One of Al’s hands reaches out and caresses a perky, round cheek, giving it a squeeze. A grumble from the mouth it belongs to, buried under a mass of blonde curls. 

“Kar-ennn,” he sing-songs, voice sputtering like a fuckin’ chainsaw, “It’s after ten.” 

“Mmnff.”

“On a Sunday.” He bends, bringing his mouth to the peachy mound. Teeth sink in. “You’re gonna be late for–”

“--church!” yelps the blonde, darting up and rolling over in this mad scramble to get her frilly old halter dress back on her body. “Shit! Shit-shit-shit!”

“Oh, slow down,” Al says, his brain moving a little slurrier than he’d anticipated–which is to say, he’s still polluted. He cages his arms around Karen where she’s sitting, leaning his perspiring forehead into her chest which stills her in an instant. “God ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“Yes, but my mother is,” she grabs him by the ears, yanking him to her eyeline–woof, way too much movement, “gonna kill me.”

“Proposal,” Al mumbles, leaning for her mouth but landing on her neck, “I tell your mama that we’re gettin’ married. Tell her the next time you enter the house of God it’s ‘cause you’re gonna make an honest woman outta me.” 

“Al,” Karen sighs, shoving him off and dismounting the pool table. This bouncy blonde, this head cheerleader apple pie type… Al had her nailed the moment he walked into her homeroom that first day at Hawkins High. Stacked to the ceiling, her gorgeous baby blues stuck on him like a fly trap. 

He hadn’t expected to stumble across a babe like her in this glorified cornfield of a town. 

“You’re very cute, and you’re a lotta fun. I mean, we have,” she shuffles in her little skirt; so cute, scandalized by herself by the light of day, “a lot of fun, but no matter how many times you ask, there’s no way I’m marrying you just so you can avoid shipping out.” 

He adopts a slump. “But what if I said I loved ya?”

“You’d be lying!” Karen cries, a phosphate giggle. She manages to find that letterman jacket she came in here wearing and slides it over her shoulders. Lobs a guilty look over her shoulder at Al.

Like he’s supposed to share in some reverent moment of shame, like he should feel bad that he’s giving her what that Wheeler meathead can’t. 

Guy’s graduated and still insists that she wears his letterman jacket. It’s sad. 

“Look, are you coming to that Gomes chick’s party, at least?” 

“Gomes? Gloriana Gomes?” Karen’s gone all incredulous on him. “Al, I’m going to have to try and sneak past my mother after being out here all night–you really think I’m going to risk my neck going to some greaser cookout?” 

“Tell them you’re goin’ to Bible study. Repenting and all that.”

Her mussed curls shudder as she shakes her head, heading for the door with her tennis shoes in her hand. “See you at school. Last week of senior year!” 

—

To Al’s shock and delight, someone’s been paying the phone bill at the Hideout–he wonders what kind of bootlegging operation necessitates a phone line, but he’s thankful for it all the same. Lets him punch in one of the only numbers he knows in this shitheel town and bark, “Bring the Caddy ‘round, Jeeves!”

Forty minutes, his found shirt and a flat beer later, a battered, rusted truck kicks up dust outside of the Hideout. 

“Thought you were dead,” a clipped voice echoes out the driver’s side. 

Al takes his time ambling over. He reaches through the driver’s window and chucks Ray Doevksi’s chin with his ringed hand. 

“Wished I was, more like.”

The greased slick of Ray’s pompadour catches an offensive amount of light, and Al’s got to shield his eyes. He throws himself into the passenger side and lets Ray size him up with customary disapproval.

“Christ, you smell like Corn Nuts and pussy.”

“Take a big whiff, Doevski!” Al rifles through the glove compartment before Ray shoves a soft pack of cigarettes at him. “Might be the last one you get for a while, seeing as you’re liable to strike out tonight.” 

“And what makes you say that?”

“Because you’re sniffin’ after a girl whose big brothers are known Hawkins heavies,” Al scoffs back a mouthful of smoke, more to curb the ever-present craving than anything else. “You don’t got the stones to see a thing like that through.”

He catches Ray’s sidelong glance at him, the line of his hardened jaw with the shiny fucking hair on top. A dollop of oily black, showing up starkly against his pristine white t-shirt. Ray is crisp and calculated-looking, without the starched strangulation of looking like some prep. Ray looks like they peeled Jimmy Dean off the blacktop and reinflated him, gave him a Presley dye-job. 

Brought him back wrong. 

See, Ray Doevski, Al’s best friend, he looks like the sensitive type but he’s all mean streak. 

Al, ever the other boy’s foil, looks like exactly what he is. A hick with a perpetual hard-on and a mouth too smart for his brain to catch up with. Luckily, Al sucked up all the charm in his gene pool; Hawkins has been a cakewalk ever since his folks moved him and his sullen older brother down here from the good ol’ hills of Appalachia. 

In fact, Ray was the first person to step to him about that. Make some crack about they got running water up there yet? Or y’all still bathin’ in pig spittle? 

‘We haven’t quite gotten to experience the spoils of modern plumbing, but your mama was kind enough to let me wash off after I balled her into oblivion.’

Up went the scuffle, and they were immediate friends after the fisticuffs were thrown. 

Since then, Ray’s led Al into the underbelly. The doper contingent that Ray’s foster family has connections to, the bikers trafficking shit through places like the Hideout. The only exciting thing about a town like Hawkins is how many secrets it can hold, and there’s not a whole lot, but enough to keep them entertained for now. 

Ray has designs on fleeing to business school after they graduate. 

The only designs Al has on are his boxer briefs. 

Speaking of, he scratches his crotch. 

“Don’t get crabs on my passenger seat,” Ray monotonously scolds him.

“This passenger seat’s a ward of the state,” Al grumbles. Translation: he knows this truck is stolen. 

“Am I driving you home, then? Is your tail sufficiently tucked between your legs yet?” 

Al hates when Ray acts like he’s his own personal O. Henry story, reading him down to the last punctuation. 

See, his last three lost days on the tear with Hawkins’ grimiest and all their passers-through had been the result of some family problems. Well, not problems. Consequences. Of living as a part of the greatest country in the world. 

Al’s brother Wayne had been drafted. Ticket up, number called. Death certificate as good as signed. 

You’re next, boy, Al’s father had said, If they can find any goddamn use for ya.

 “I’m conscientiously objecting to the whole thing.”

“Shit. Didn’t know you had one of those.”

“Just trying it on for size. I can still return it for store credit.”

The rubber on Ray’s tyres squeal onto Philadelphia, stopping dead outside of the Munson household. Clapboard. Best they could do on short notice–needs a lick of paint that no one got around to sticking their tongue out for. But it’s home. 

It always will be. Al understands that might be why his heart feels like it’s sinking. 

He feels Ray watching him as he stares out the passenger side. A dry swallow. 

He doesn’t want to go back in there. He toys with the idea of telling Ray to hit it again, to keep driving til the wheels come off this thing, so he can stay unmoored and un-privy to the disappointment dripping down the walls of that house. Those stains don’t lift. 

They never will.

“Pick me up at eight, sugar?” Al snaps back into character, simpering with Donna Reed sweetness at Ray. He rolls his eyes under long-lashed lids. 

“If you survive ‘til then.” 

A heave to the rustbucket of a door and Al’s hopping out of the truck. 

“Al,” Ray calls, gunning the engine back to life. “If I make it with Gloriana Gomes tonight…”

“Mighty girthy if.”

“... that calls for a changing of hands.” Ray gestures to the rock on Al’s finger. The Hawkins High class ring, the big brass bastard with its imitation emerald. Green and gold, the colors of their proud and mighty cowpat of a school. It had been Ray’s originally, seeing as how Al had all but dropped out at this point. But there were few things Ray had that Al didn’t want, and vice versa. 

Balls. Charisma. Something big and ugly and shiny. 

Something to be proud of. 

So one day Al goes, ‘Bet your ring I can’t aim this stink bomb clear through O’Donnell’s classroom window,’ continuing his habit of torturing the newest faculty member. Ray’d said sure, because Al’s aim was reliably shitty– except for that day. Bullseye. Screaming. 

Ray had reluctantly handed over the ring. 

Then, at the derelict drive-in where they’d watched On the Waterfront together, Ray’d said, ‘Bet your ring I can’t shake down the candy shack for whatever’s in the register.’ 

A made-up kid-choking emergency and fifty-odd dollars later, Al was handing the ring back.

It went on like that, the bets increasing in risk and moral soundness. The ring bearer was dubbed the King of Hawkins High, a stab at the squares that actually gave a shit. Al lived for it. Not because Ray was easy to best, he wasn’t. One really had to get creative, or not be afraid to be hauled in by the heat. Ray was a worthy adversary. 

Made Al feel like he could accomplish things. 

“That’s a little tame, don’t you think?” Al says. The stakes had crawled up a little higher than balling some chick, no matter how white hot her family supposedly was. Unless, this is Ray really trying to prove something.

The Gomes brothers were the number one name in town for racketeering, gun thuggery, speed distribution… you name it, they had dominion over it. 

If he won over their princess Gloriana, eased into their good books… that’s the making of a man. Al knows that. 

Ray knows Al knows that, leveling him with a steel-edged stare over his sunglasses. 

“See you at eight, sugar.”

—

The Munson household is dark and quiet, thank Christ, allowing Al to slink into the bedroom he shares with his elder brother and catch some well-earned hungover shuteye. 

Sleep sinks him quick, his exhausted, wrung out form hitting the mattress without so much as kicking his boots off. His dreams are vivid and vague, parched and sweaty, indecisive and arresting as they always are after a sleepless bender. In the one he can recall the best, he sits behind a cartoonishly large wheel of a cartoonishly small van. He’s driving around labyrinthian turns, around a trailer park that he vaguely recognises from the outskirts of town. 

Gravel crunches underneath, sounding like bones cracking. Grinding teeth. 

He wants to get out, but he can’t find the lot that he’s looking for. Someone’s yelling at him from outside the vehicle; and he can’t exactly turn his head to see, but he’s vaguely aware of a baby girl lying in the passenger seat beside him. She’s crying and he’s hushing, promising that they’re almost there. 

It’ll all be okay, honey bear! Al’s gonna fix it.

The window of the van is slung low, and hailstones begin to rain in on him and the baby, pelting him in the forehead–

Takes him a minute or two to come to. Wayne stands, a shadowy figure in the doorway with a handful of peanut shells. 

“Dinner,” the elder Munson grumbles. 

“I’m comin’! Jesus!” Al whines.

“No, this is your dinner,” Wayne keeps tossing the shells. “You wanna run off and join the circus, you better get used to circus food.”

“I’d sooner crawl inside of a lion’s asshole than bend over and take it up the chute for Uncle Sam, I’ll tell you that,” kid brother grumbles into his flat, yellowing pillow. 

“Real nice, Allen.”

“You know what,” Al, annoyed now, rustles up in bed, furiously blinking his bleary eyes at Wayne, “When did you go and get so fuckin’ patriotic anyway? Far as I know, your greatest contribution to society was teaching me how to boost a car on my sixteenth birthday.”

Wayne scoffs, tossing the last of the shells onto the floor. “Yeah, and a fat lotta good it did. Still got that… Doohickey pansy chauffeurin’ you around, huh?”

“Christ, you really fell out the sad bastard tree and hit every branch on the way down, huh? Just ‘cause you ain’t got no friends, man–”

“Allen.”

“--doesn’t mean you need to go buzz your head and get a rifle about it, I mean, my god–”

“Al.”

“I think it’s really pathetic, y’know, real pathetic that you’re gonna go play stooge for a system that wouldn’t piss on folks like you or me or Ma or Pa if we was on fire–” 

As if Al really gave a damn about the system.

“Al, you’re gonna have to grow up pretty soon. You know that, don’t you?”

That plugs him up fast. Al’s vision has unbleary’ed itself. A cold jolt arcs through him, one he tries to scoff away. Wayne always does this, drags out the stoic shit because he knows it’s a surefire conversation ender. He’s so solid that way, this living full stop Al has to call a brother. His way or the highway. His way or the chopper. 

Wayne was always telling Al no, always telling Al do this and do that and take the fall, they won’t care, you’re the youngest, they’ll go easy on you and watched as their father snatched a knot into Al’s head that a navy man couldn’t untie.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

Wayne leans a little heavier on the doorframe. Al can see paint chips loosening where his shoulder presses. 

“Means I gotta go and do this because Ma and Pa won’t be able to survive if I don’t. Not if they got you leechin’ off ‘em still. Which, signs point to,” Wayne gestures to their shared bedroom. A harsh split down the middle; Al’s side is a ragged explosion of dirty socks, underwear, records, comics, cigarette butts. Wayne’s side is so orderly, Al bets he could bounce a quarter off the bed. 

Like he’d been waiting to ship out his whole life. 

“I’m warnin’ you, boy,” Wayne’s tone darkens. Al wishes it didn’t make him flinch on instinct, but it does. “You better clean up your act. Get some kinda life together. Otherwise, you’re gonna end up in prison before your ticket’s even drawn.”

He lets it simmer for a minute, drawing out the silence that he’d usually feel like he has to fill. It’s so muggy, it has been muggy, this quiet between them since Wayne decided he was the kind of person that wanted to do the right thing. Do what he’s told, more like. 

Another knot of a different kind tightens in Al’s sternum. Fear. He doesn’t look at Wayne because to look at him, he would know. Wayne would see it in Al’s face, and Al would see it in Wayne’s. They’re terrified, the both of them. 

Munsons are no heroes. They don’t pull out of things like this. 

Even if Wayne uses all the right moves, likelihood is he catches a stray bullet or blowback from a bomb and goes down. Stupid for him to think anything else would happen. 

Every time Al looks at him, he knows it might be one of the last.

Then again, what else has Wayne got? He wasn’t happy about being dragged by the ear from Appalachia to Indiana. He couldn’t shake the stubbornness to make friends in town. Left school before he even broke tenth grade. He couldn’t hold down a job for nothin’-- Hawkins decided they didn’t like the smell of hick shit that the Munsons were dragging through the place. Their father was barely hanging onto the gig he’d moved them here for, drinking what little he did make. Their mother was catatonic most of the time, drinking twice as much as their father did. 

Wayne is floundering, if not practically dead in Lover’s Lake already. 

Might as well die someplace tropical. 

But where does that leave Al? Al, the spitfire kid who needs Wayne to anchor him so he doesn’t spin completely out of control. He gets this notion of speed, thinks he’s capable of beating God at his own game–not in small part spurned on by Ray Doevski. Gasoline, matches. He needs Wayne, needs his big brother to remind him that the ground below him is hard, not soft. What goes up must come down, and all that shit. 

So, how dare he. 

How dare he choose Vietnam over Al. 

“Well, brother mine,” Al says in a tone smooth as silk, rolling onto his back and stretching his wiry arms up like a languid cat. Smug beats stoic. “Just so happens that army green ain’t really my color. I’ll take my chances.”

—

Hastily scrubbed and half a shoulder of stolen bourbon deep, Al kicks rocks in his shoddy driveway. If he had a watch that wasn’t broken, he sure would check it, then drunkenly shake his fist at the sky and curse Ray Doevski’s tardiness. 

Just as that thought occurs, of course, Ray hits his mark. Skids up to the facade on Philadelphia with a little more urgency than usual. 

“Don’t burn that rubber too fast, now,” Al says, almost missing the step as he climbs in, “You know how tyres are a bitch to lift.”

“Ain’t you gonna offer me a drink?” Ray’s voice is a little reedier than usual–that usually means he has something on his mind. Something cooking. 

Through the encroaching fog of his inebriation, Al gives him a little once over. He’s got a smudge of motor oil on his cheek. 

Al wipes it away with a clumsy hand and feels Ray stiffen. His dark, delighted eyeballs seem to jitter in his skull before he jerks his head away from Al’s hand. 

A moment throbs, and Al pushes the booze towards him. He doesn’t totally understand and it shows as much on his face. 

“S’goin’ on with you?” 

He watches as Ray mechanically reminds himself to relax, chill out, they’re headed for a party. Like the gears are clicking behind his face, evening out his expression.

“Lemme ask you something,” and that vibrancy is back in Ray’s voice, “Your folks still on your ass about gettin’ a job?”

“Like flies on shit.”

“What if I told you I had an opportunity that would make them very happy?”

“Happier than they are with my brother, the Colonel?”

“Way,” Ray’s teeth gleam in the late Autumn sunset, the bodacious orange twisting the planes of his face into a handsome Jack o’ Lantern. “Real cash. And fast.”

Al slugs a little whisky and slouches further down in his seat. “Can’t be any dumber than the bullshit I’ve already heard. Hit me.”

“You’re gonna fuckin’ flip,” Ray shakes his head, “The Gomes brothers wanna cut us in on a deal. They, uh, they’ve gotten familiar with us. Told you it was worth showin’ your face at the Hideout every once in a while.”

Every once in a while, sure… Ray and Al skulking the parking lot, chainsmoking and playing marbles like a couple of errant kids in order to get familiar with the local heavies. Prove they were trustworthy. That they’d see shit, but they wouldn’t say shit.

Flies on shit.

Al jerks forward as Ray steps on the gas. 

“A deal, huh?” Al finally manages. 

“Distribution,” the gentlemen’s term for slinging dope. Speed, hash, benzos. Whatever. “This is a real business, Munson. With real payout. We make the right connections, there’s no tellin’ what we can do with it.”

Ray’s just about frothing at the mouth; Al’s never seen him so jazzed about something before. Similar to Wayne with that cool as ice, hard rock front. It’s unnerving to see it crack. Al’s stomach winches. 

Prison before your ticket’s even drawn.

Then again, what else has Al Munson got going for him?

Ray’s shark eyes reflect a bolt of lightning that doesn’t appear in the sky. 

Al’s groan sounds like thunder. “Fuck it. Sure.”

“Thatta boy! We gotta be at the pickup spot at midnight sharp, Cinderella.” Ray’s hands drum against the wheel, and Al could swear that he sees his bare ring finger twitching. “And–listen, Al. Don’t go spreadin’ this around at the party, alright? Especially to the boys. Mixin’ business and pleasure… just puts a bad taste in people’s mouths, y’know.”

“I’ll behave.”

—

Easier said than done. 

Al wobbles through Gloriana Gomes’ backyard with the grace of a newborn gazelle, but at the very least he can make almost falling into the band’s drumset look cute. Lantern lights above him triple, quadruple, and he’s wondering just what the hell the bruiser bitch put in this punch. 

“Munson.”

“Ah! The lady of the hour,” Al manages almost coherently. “Lemme get look at you.”

He squints through one eye to take in Gloriana’s shapely figure, packed tight into a halterneck catsuit that would make any man shed a tear and cry glory to God. She’s stunning, this chick, with her blunt black bangs and her lacquered cherry lips and her spike heels–but by god, is she lethal.

Al needs exactly this amount of Dutch courage to even fathom speaking a full sentence to her. 

He heard she keeps a switchblade in her bra, which is how she’s won so many pageants. Pure intimidation.

He wants her to shave him bald all over with that very same switchblade.

Lurching forward, his lips brush her bouffant and almost swallow her earring. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“It’s not my birthday,” Goddamn, he can feel her nails dig into his bicep. Whisky dick is being rendered a myth with every passing second. “It’s just a party.” 

“Thassa damn shame, ‘cause here I am with this biiig ole gift for you,” Al’s choking on the chemical tinge of her drugstore perfume and the copious amounts of hairspray she wears. This, the girl with always has a lit cigarette perched in her fingers… walking fire hazard. White hot. 

Al’s hand slides over Gloriana’s hip, only distantly aware that he’s likely in Ray’s direct line of vision–that man rarely takes his eyes off the baddest Betty Hawkins has to offer. 

“You wanna see it? S’in my pocket…”

Those Dutchmen are really onto something.

Her nails dig again and Al wonders, with a throb to the crotch, if she’s drawing blood yet. 

“I’m gonna do you a favor, creep,” Gloriana hisses into Al’s ear, “I’m not going to slap the shit out of you in front of my brothers and their friends, because I don’t feel like helping anybody chop up your lousy little body tonight. I just did my nails fresh.”

“I can feel that.”

Gloriana lightly but politely shoves him off. Her face curls up into this charm-offensive, butter-wouldn’t-melt smile, which is completely at odds with her tough girl appearance. Still, it’s like a cherry nipple on a milkshake tit. Just perfect.

“You and that foster home freak are made for each other,” she says to Al, and he sees two pairs of ruby red lips instead of one. She makes it sound like she’s being friendly. Foster home freak—that’d be Ray’s calling card. Hawkins loves to remind Ray and Al that they don’t really belong here.

And then she’s gone, and Al feels a hand physically propping him upright. It’s dinky, bony and feminine so it can only belong to one person–

“Joycey!” he bellows into the young Maldonado birdy’s face. Now, Joyce is a gal that Al has always had a minute for and vice versa. She was always good for a smoke and a jaw about nothin’, as was he, but he didn’t love having to share his stash of finely toasted tobacco with that lug Jim Hopper she’s so goddamned fond of. 

Joyce flinches at the greeting, wiping a little of Al’s spittle off her cheek. “Jesus H., Munson, wake the neighbors muchly?” 

“Oh, between me and Dick fuckin’ Dale over here,” he gestures in the vague direction of the garage band that belongs to one Gomes or another, he’s sure, “they’ll be up all night. What’s shakin’?”

Joyce digs around her grubby jeans for her smokes, doing Al the honor of both putting it in his waiting maw and lighting it. She shrugs in that tight-shouldered way that she has, always wound up about something or other. She’s so twiggy, this girl–probably why Al’s never tried to put a move on her. He’s scared she’ll have a nervous breakdown or something. 

“Just wanted to see how you were.”

That’s the other thing. Bleeding heart Maldonado, always checking in on her good pal Al. Ever since he’d broke the news that Wayne was Viet-bound, she kept looking at him sidelong, all sadlike. 

“Me? Spiffy, sweetheart. Just darling, if you must know,” Al says, volume and theatricality increasing. “Any day now, I’ll have a full bedroom to myself. Ain’t that exciting?”

Joyce snorts, a puff of smoke coming out of each nostril like she’s the world’s most anxious dragon. “Gonna invite Karen over for a sleepover?”

“Ixnay on the aren-kay, Joy-say! My god, we can’t have the whole of Cherry Lane know I’m balling a cheerleader,” hands cup around Al’s mouth, cigarette still dangling from it, “It’d be just about my ruination!” 

Joyce giggles all big and unbridled, which Al likes because he likes when she loosens up, but it’s swiftly cut off as Al finds himself stumbling into the nearest deck chair–which is to say, into the lap of the person sitting on it. This lucky customer happens to be one Leonard Gomes, affectionately nicknamed Lurch. Guy’s built like a brick shit cathedral, not just a house, with a selection of fascinating prison tattoos covering his neck. Al can’t make ‘em out, even up close.

“Myyy sincerest apologies, big boy!” Al slurs, but doesn’t get up right away. Lurch’s little black eyes are blackening and blackening. “But hey, I’ll catch you later. For our big date, right? Right? Can ya gimme any clues for what we’re movin’, can–” 

Oof, hauled up by the front of his ribbed tank! Only Ray Doevski in full crisis management mode could manage such a feat. 

Just kidding. Joyce could probably do it if she put her mind to it. Al’s about a hundred pounds soaking wet. 

“Hey, this is my favorite shirt, man! Don’t stretch ‘er out!” 

A seething Ray hauls him all the way to the front of the house and about heaves him into the truck. Al complies pretty limply, not hating the feeling of being puppeteered around. His limbs were getting heavy. 

“Daddy’s givin’ me a time out,” Al pouts. And promptly leans out the passenger door and pukes. It’s all bile, three or four days of full bender bile. He’s barely eaten. It scores his nostrils and steams up on the pavement. 

Ray stands just out of the splash zone with his arms folded, waiting for Al to let up. 

When all the blood has been sufficiently drained out of his face, he does. Slumps against the seat. 

Ray doesn’t exactly look at him with anger. Or annoyance, even. There’s a pillowy nature to the way he stares him down, before he walks over to the Gomes’ garden hose and turns it on, stretching it so it’ll reach Al. 

He laps at the water gratefully. A hound. 

Ray digs a vial from his pocket, the kind that comes complete with its own little spoon. Something he’d lifted from some foster kid he’d lived with, he had told Al before. This little number is a sight for sore eyes. 

“The smelling salts. You shouldn’t have.”

Al huffs a bump up each nostril and shoves the heels of his hands into his eyeballs. 

Whammo. Slowly coming back to reality. 

“Sorry.” 

“S’alright.” Ray’s head swivels around, evidently spotting the Gomes brothers heading to their hot rod. His voice comes out tight and he bolts for the driver’s side of the truck. Moves so fast he makes Al dizzy. “We gotta move anyhow.” 

“Midnight already?”

“The witching hour.” 

—

His head wedged into the corner of the open window, Al breathes deep the dusty night breeze on Holland. On the drive out here, you can count down the seconds until you smell the lake. 

Five, four, three, two… Cannonball. 

They drive in an imbalanced silence. Tense on Ray’s end, nauseated on Al’s. But he’s just about starting to come to, starting to clock into the reality of their situation. 

Al had tossed around a little grass before; he came by it easy and could move it even easier. An operation like this, however, with clandestine pickups under the cover of night, with the armored Gomes vehicle tailing them–this is serious. 

Wait. 

Hold on. 

Al cranes his neck to get a look out the back window. They’ve lost the Gomes’ headlights. Nothing but dark, dark road beyond the reddened back beams of Ray’s truck. That’s funny. Guys of that caliber, big pieces of gristle and meat, they’re hardly going to be tardy to their own drug pick-up party. 

“Where’d they go to, Ray?” Al’s voice is a croak when it comes out, fighting against his burning throat. 

“Shut up, Al.” 

“Ray–”

“Shut up, Al.” 

Al shrinks down in his seat, a child admonished. Ray’s hand flexes over the wheel, a man desperately trying to keep control.

They pull around to this shitheap looking place on Lover’s Lake, so bent it’s practically sliding down the embankment. A van already sits there. Black, sleek. The kind a serviceman would have or something. 

Ray kills the engine and some force from beyond prompts Al to grab at his arm before he can jump on out. 

“Ray.” 

“You’re doing this for your family,” Ray seamlessly reminds him, the gaze he turns on him empty. There’s not a waver in his voice. Like he’d been preparing this little bon mot of encouragement. “I’m doing this for mine.”

“But w–”

“Doing it for love. That’s honorable,” Ray nods. His features have taken on this waxy sheen under the moonlight that threatens to bring Al to a dry heave. He’s like a ventriloquist doll, down to the wooden way he’s moving. “I’ve done things for love that you wouldn’t believe. Now get out of the fucking truck.”

Beat for beat, Ray exits the truck, Al exits the truck, then a guy in overalls appears from the shiny black van. All of it moving in this rhythm that’s making Al’s head swim–feels like an unreality. Feels like he’ll blink, be behind the wheel of that van with a crying baby to his right. Feels like a dream. 

Al, for once, clams up. Doesn’t say anything at all, because it’s the only way he can mask the nervous twitch his face takes on when he’s this piss-pants scared. 

But it’s funny. It’s not like a drug operation he’s ever dreamed of. There’s no real shadiness to it. Guy just opens up the back of his van and tosses Ray a brick wrapped in brown parcel paper. 

“Lurch and Palo on the way?”

It’s incredible. To Al’s knowledge, this guy, this guy with all the drugs in the back of his fucking van, has never seen Ray before but implicitly assumes he’s taking point on this deal. What if he had been a cop?!

But Ray Doevski does have this thing about him. Gives you one good, meaningful look and he has you shackled for life. You can’t help but trust him. 

Still waters, man. Just like Wayne, Al thinks and feels something different rise in his throat. 

“Lurch and Palo got caught up. Car trouble.” 

Overalls guy just shrugs and helps load the rest of the packages into the passenger side of the truck. Al, he just stands there. Rooted. Watching him. Ray doesn’t pass any heed; like he’s not even there. 

“Not much of a talker, your guy?” Overalls jerks his head in Al’s direction. 

“Nah,” Ray grins in the briefest of flashes. “Strong and silent type. Right, Munson?”

A light flashes on at the porch of the half derelict looking house. Al can spot a hulking figure in the window, obscured by what has to be clouds upon clouds of smoke.

Ray raises a hand in the form’s direction, as howdy doody casual as a fucking neighborino.

“Who is that?” Al hears himself ask.

“Rick. I’ll introduce you next time. You two’ll like each other.”

Next thing Al’s physically aware of is the pile of packages at his feet as Ray guns the truck to life. This insufferable smirk curls up the corner of his mouth, the kind that Al has an immediate instinct to slug right off. 

A bad feeling, a terrible feeling twists up his guts.

It’s justified about fifteen minutes into their drive back. 

Al sees the flames licking around the plumes of black smoke first, easing up into that inky sky stabbed through with needlepoint constellations. He sees mangled hot rod hardware wrapped around a great big tree. He sees blue lights, he sees red. He sees an ambulance. He sees two stretchers and two body bags. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he spits, his lips feeling loose and panicky. “Ray, Jesus, we have to stop!” 

“You wanna stop?” Ray laughs, voice so light you’d swear Al had asked him to pull in so he could take a piss. “You’re sittin’ on a small fortune of narcotics and you wanna stop? Don’t be such a morbid little rubbernecker, Munson.” 

—

The untimely passing of the Gomes brothers brought with it a varied reception. The angle from one end of town was that it’s great when God deals with hoodlums before the law has to. On the other, someone had to pick up the slack and keep the seedy underbelly of this wicked little place nice and satiated. 

Ray Doevski didn’t leave Gloriana Gomes’ side from the moment she got the news about her beloved brothers. She’d broke down wailing in his waiting arms, her red lipstick bleeding at the edges.

Those same brothers who regarded the scheming nowhere kid with such distaste that they’d never let them anywhere near their sister, or their business. 

Over their dead bodies.

The only reasonable move was to remove them from the picture entirely, and step in gallantly. The hero. A picture of suave severity, backroom business acumen seeping from his blacktop hairdo. He’d fill the hole, he’d keep the cash flowing.

When he got the time to cut the Gomes’ break lines, we’ll never really know.

Al couldn’t fathom pulling off such a stunt. 

Ray never admitted to it, of course. Can’t show your hand. Not to anybody, not even your best friend. But there was always this sense of knowing… even if he didn’t do it, he was capable of it.

Once he got over the shock of it all, how quick and seamless Ray had made that elimination, Al was overtaken with admiration. Tinged with latent fear, of course, but admiration all the same. 

When Ray dropped him off at the house on Philadelphia in the wee hours of the morning, Al pressed the Hawkins High class ring into his hand. 

“Well played, my liege.”

“Couldn’t’ve done it without ya,” Ray smiled. “Pleasure doing business.”

Business was right. At Al’s feet sat serious cash. Cash he could use to pull his weight around the house. Cash he could use to get out of Hawkins entirely. Cash he could rub in Wayne’s face, show him, hey! I’m not nothing! I can move this, I can be part of something huge and heavy! I can run this fucking town!

But he didn’t have any clear designs on doing anything without Ray’s say so.

The only designs Al had were on his boxer briefs. 

He was only really sure of one thing. He’d spend his entire life trying to best Ray Doevski. Trying to get that ring back on his finger.

Just for the love of the game. 

[glorious-imagines]

Nosedive

Sequel to Crushed

Jason had messaged her multiple times since their breakup. Mostly, he was blocked. He knew it was unfair of him to want to communicate with her. He just couldn't help himself. He, at least, hoped they could be friends again.

A cup of coffee was sat in front of him. "Girl, troubles?" His favorite waitress asked, light tone trying to hide her worry.

He gave her a sly smirk. "Are there any other kinds of trouble?"

"You alone make up half of them." She joked as she wrote down his usual order and handed it to a passing waiter.

"You wound me, Gabby." He feigned hurt, wrenching his shirt in one hand.

"So," she slid into the seat across from him. "Tell mama Gabs all about the girl that has you all up in your feelings."

Jason chuckled, "I'm not in my feelings."

She raised a brow, "Jay, you've been staring at your phone with that hit puppy look since you got here."

"Whats wro--"

"You've been here for over an hour." He finds he can't deny her claims. "If I didn't have a shift, you'd have been kicked out. You didn't even order anything."

He sips his coffee. "Thanks, Gabs..."

"Now, tell me what happened."

Jason huffed and sank further into his seat. "Her name is Y/n. She's the most amazing woman, I've ever met." He told her everything that happened.

"What the hell, Jay? Did you fucking cheat on her?!"

"What?" Jason sneered.

"I swear to fucking god, Jason, I will kick your ass--" she threated.

"Gabs, I would never cheat. You know me better than that." They stared each other down before she relented.

"Fine, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. But this timeline isn't making sense."

"Thats because it was supposed to be a one night stand. It was before Y/n and I even got together. She said she was on birth-control..."

Gabby nods along, piecing things together easily. "So you put your... gunk in her?"

Jason bursts with laughter at this. "Gunk?"

"Well, I don't like thinking of you like that. It's gross." She feigned a baby barf.

He shakes his head with a smile. "Anyway, she took it upon herself to keep said gunk swirling around in her." She throws a ketchup packet at him.

"Without talking to you?"

He shakes his head solemnly, fidgeting with the ketchup packet. "No, she did, but what was I supposed to say? 'Get an abortion?' That would make me a piece of shit. She even gave me an out."

"So, why didn't you take the out?"

His smile became dejected. "How could I, Gabs?"

"Even at the cost of losing the woman you truly love?"

"If I leave the kid, I know I'll regret it. Now, isn't the right time to have a kid. Especially not in my line of work. But I couldn't say that I'd stop. It would never be the right time. I can't abandon this kid. Leave them wondering what they did wrong..."

"Jay..." She said quietly when she noticed his eyes becoming misty.

He takes a moment to collect himself. "I love Y/n, but I'm not about to leave my kid high and dry. It'll be hard to balance work and home but I know I can do it."

His food arrives, interrupting the flow of the conversation. Gabby can tell when Jason is done talking. She leaves him to eat but keeps an eye on him until he leaves.

...

Y/n had thrown herself into work. Both hero and not. She took many extra missions and when she couldn't she worked overtime at her day job. There was hardly a moment to think. And she preferred this.

Currently, Y/n was on her way back to work from lunch. She sipped her favorite boba and scrolled through her phone. She immediately noticed when someone was following her. Their steps were light and shakey, unsure. They weren't there to harm her, apparently.

Before she knew it, the steps had retreated. Whoever it was, they weren't a threat. Maybe they just thought she was someone else.

Her phone vibrated in her hand, John Stewart's face showed on the caller ID. She debated if she wanted to answer or not. If she did she'd probably have to leave work. She sipped her boba.

"You were just going to let me go to voicemail?" Green Lantern floated down to her.

She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Next time, just come thru with a whole ass blimp and some fireworks. That'll really get peoples attention."

He powered down his ring, choosing to ignore the sarcasm. "I heard about the breakup, Y/n."

Her face pulls into a scowl, "You're about three months late on that, G."

"Well, excuse me for having intergalactic duties." He puts a hand on her shoulder, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No. I'd rather forget it ever happened." He raises a brow. "Yeah, obviously I'm not gonna forget or use magic. So, I'm doing the next best thing."

"Keeping yourself so busy that you neglect your health?" He chided her. "Y/n, everyone is worried about you."

"For what?!" She snapped, "I'm fine! Just like when his ex showed up and they had a private conversation. Or when he told me that she was fucking carrying his seed. And even now that we're not together anymore… I'm. Doing. Just. Fine."

John pulls her into a hug. "Listen, kid, it's okay to not be okay. It's okay to be angry and hurt… and even to still wanna be with him." He gently stroked her hair. "Your feelings don't somehow make you less and no one gets to tell you how to deal with them."

"Even if I decide to kill them?" She mumbled against his chest.

He chuckles, "I could leave'em on a deserted planet if you want."

"As if his family would let that happen. It's a nice thought, though."

A woman cleared her throat behind Y/n. "E-excuse me, can I have a moment with Y/n?"

With the way Y/n went so rigid in his hold, John could guess who the woman was. "I don't think--"

"And let's keep it that way, G." Y/n interrupted, her frown finding its way back. "I'll contact you if I need anything." At his hesitancy, she made him a promise and he flew off.

Y/n stuffed her free hand in her pocket to keep from punching a pregnant woman. 'Her face isn't pregnant,' her thoughts retorted but she shut the impulse down.

"I sent a text, but…" Isabel trailed.

"If its one thing bitches gon' have it's the motherfucking audacity."

"Excuse me…?" She faltered.

"Obviously, you're blocked. What the hell gave you the idea that I wanted to talk to you?" She crushed the boba cup in her hand causing it to spill over and making Isabel jump a bit.

"I-I only came to apologize--"

"For what? Destoying my perfect relationship?"

"Jason deserved to know. It was his decision to be a father."

By now, Y/n was beyond pissed. This bitch was just asking to be smacked up. "You didn't come here to apologize. You came to absolve yourself of your guilt. And I am not going to help you with that."

"I was trying to be the bigger person but you're too childish. Jason choosing me was the best decision he's made."

"Bitch--!"

Y/n was about to tear into Isabel when a hand was on her shoulder. "You're making my friend angry. And that makes me angry. Leave before I forget you're pregnant."

"Fine but Jason will hear about this." She stomps off like a toddler denied candy.

"Ugh, I need a drink."

"Me too, I'll buy."

"Thanks, Shana. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Apparently, threatening pregnant women." Shana turns to her, brow raised. "Who the hell is that?"

"I'll explain on the way." Y/n tosses the destroyed boba in the trash.

At some random bar Y/n finishes explaining her life's current events. "Anyway, she sucks, he sucks, and I will never love again."

"Or, and hear me out, maybe you need someone to help with the process a little?" Shana smiles at her suggestively.

Y/n frowns, dread filling her stomach. "Oh no, what are you thinking?"

"The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, duh." Shana rolls her eyes like Y/n should've known that. "I came to ask for help for a mission but shirking my responsibilities is more fun."

NEXT

[hysteria-things]

sfw :)

on and off matt who likes to explain some random video game or movie lore to u and sounds 100% serious about it as if its real

on and off matt whos 6 months or a year younger than u (idk he just gives off the vibe of being younger 😭)

on and off matt who listens to u vent about ur problems and always has the best advice for u

on and off matt who sends u cat videos saying "us?"

on and off matt who likes to spam u tiktoks of random funny things or animal videos he sees on his fyp but its never cute couple videos which makes ur bf so unique 😭

on and off matt who prefers being little spoon and being ur baby during cuddling

on and off matt who likes to ask u for a kiss after saying "lets go" humbly after getting a victory on fortnite

on and off matt who loves ur cooking and fucks that shit up LMAOOO

on and off matt who does the laundry and cleaning for u

on and off matt who takes care of u as a moody mess on ur period

"i love u please dont ever leave me"

"oh u dont want me to leave u?"

"no"

"gotcha, won't leave"

on and off matt whos always in ur comments after u post urself on instagram or tiktok

on and off matt whos always in ur photo dumps

on and off matt who's very clingy and loves ur personal space

"give me a kiss"

"matt-"

"give me a kiss"

"matt ur pissing me off"

"one kiss"

"*smooch* okay get the fuck out"

*proceeds to shimmy away*

on and off matt whos always doing something stupid around u

*tries to handstand and ends up making a picture frame fall off the wall*

"*gasp* matt-"

on and off matt whos always attached to ur hip anywhere u go (ex: shopping together as u push the cart)

*holds up a bra and acts as if hes got it on* "think these are my size?"

"matt those are d cups"

"??? no these are bras"

"no- ykw, okay!"

on and off matt who squeezes ur tits and goes "honka honka" 😭😭

on and off matt who gets jealous and petty when u tell him about all the guys who tried to get with u after u guys broke up

"oh and- *yap yap yap*"

"hm right"

"and then- *blah blah blah*"

"hm right. so u wanna know how that makes me feel?"

"what?"

"like idgaf"

on and off matt who sees it coming everytime u hit him with a "ykw? we're over"

"shi, alright, can i get a kiss before i leave tho?"

on and off matt who has patience with u and refuses to yell at u back everytime u guys argue

on and off matt who has to deal with his girl friends trying to flirt with u (tara yummy and madison beer) but he prefers it rather than some random dude doing it

on and off matt who hearts ur stories or posts even after u guys break up

on and off matt who lowkey stalks ur social media over and over after u guys break up

on and off matt whos still cool with ur parents and siblings after u guys break up

on and off matt who daps up ur dad and side hugs ur mom in front of u after u guys break up and they invited him over for dinner without being aware of it

on and off matt who helps ur younger sister with her school homework even if he kinda forgot some things he learned in school and calms her anxiety while she stresses out about it

on and off matt who yaps about superhero lore with ur younger brother and is actually so engaged in it that he forgets hes actually here for u

on and off who always has to be warned whenever u whip out ketchup in front of him 😭😭

"look away im gonna put ketchup in my plate"

*immediately freaks out and covers his entire face* "are u done?"

"yep all good :)"

*sighs in relief as if he just faced the hardest thing in the world* "man. thank u"

on and off matt who gets severe separation anxiety to the point he makes u pee with the door open while he either lays in bed waiting for u or stands in the doorway while u get lecture him about this behavior 💀

*giggles*

"😐 i'm not laughing"

on and off matt who burps in ur face despite the fact that he hates chris doing it 😭

and lastly to top it off, whatever this is...

*yapping*

"wait"

"what?"

*farts*

"bro"

YOU ARE SO CREATIVE WITH THESE I LOVE THEM

[0oolookitsme]

A Day Made Better

Type- Blurb

Verse- Marvel-Actress!Y/n x Marvel-Actor!Harry and Marvel-Actor!Tom Holland

Warnings- None that I can see, but please do tell me if there's any I should put!

Word Count- 912

A/N- I'm slipping back into writing a lot now. Like, I've literally got two more fics saved up and ready to be posted in my drafts and I'm onto working another one. You believe me now? Good. I hope you enjoy reading this <3

Description- Y/n isn't having the best day of her life, Tom can't seem to stop falling and Harry is just too good at making people happy with his little jokes.

It'll be a lie if they were to say that they 'didn't even try' to keep Harry from joining the duo of Tom and Y/n.

Cause they did, they really did try their best. Alas, sweat broke on their foreheads as they lost the unconfirmed battle. But that doesn't mean they are at peace now, oh that's such a no. Perhaps that's why they were gatekeeping Harry, to save them from any greater number of chaotic plans plotted against them.

Every morning, Harry is the first to arrive at the set. Followed by eating-something-Y/n and then a disheveled Tom. And everyone loves their presence but somedays they want nothing more than to tie the three up and throw them in some random deep pit.

Today, majority of the marvel actors are on the set because of some random interview filming which apparently required to them to be on the set. This made the lot who wasn't in the camera view feel annoyed- not sure with the interviewers or with the ones who are being interviewed.

Whatever the option, Y/n is most definitely annoyed with both.

She's been asked to come on set at 5am in the morning, since the last two weeks. Well, everyone has been. But today wasn't like just any other days, no. She had gotten her periods last night, which she blames to make her cry last night. In the morning when she woke up, she was met with her unpleasantly puffed-up eyes, causing her to cry almost again especially when her hair wouldn't get in a proper braid.

At the end, she washed her face with cold once again, looked away from the mirror and threw her hair in a hand curated bun. And, as expected, it looked better than anything.

Then when she arrives on set, she sees Tom on the ground looking like an embarrassed five-year-old, and Harry who's standing right behind him, clutching his stomach and laughing his lungs out while providing his friend with his arm for support.

That did turn the corner of her lips up a tad bit. But when she was told how there wasn't going to be any shooting done today because of interview she and the other two are not a part of, she felt like ripping her hair off her scalp.

She had asked if they could go back then, but the answer she received might be the reason she's sitting in a corner as she registers the fact that this day was going to go down the sink of moodiness.

"Let me tell you a joke," Harry came to sit down beside her, his thigh touching with hers and y/n's not sure if it's because his love language is physical touch or just an unintentional thing. Either thought makes her smile a little. "But you'd have to participate in this one- just once!"

"So, a papa tomato, a mummy tomato and a baby tomato were walking down the street. The baby tomato was walking too slow and got a little behind the parent tomatoes. That made papa tomato mad, and he squished the baby tomato, telling him to: 'ketchup!'" Harry shrieked at the last word and started giggling himself before fixing his eyes on y/n's mouth to see if it made her smile even.

It's like she's laughing, but she doesn't want to laugh- like she wanted to remain sad. Which makes Harry bump his shoulder with hers and laugh along.

Y/n feels something brush on her back before the third musketeer's voice follows. "What's so funny, eh?" He asks as he tries his best to sit down in his kinda tight skinny jeans. "Tell me too, my day hasn't been very heartful either. It's been rather hurtful," he continues himself, squeezing out an unexpected laugh by the other two.

"He's been falling on his ass all morning long," Harry tells y/n as he calms down, still giggling every once in a minute. Though when he sees y/n frown in amusement, he goes on full tryna-convince-her mode. "Like literally!"

"I've fallen what, three times? And what did you do about it, other than wheezing huh?" Tom defends himself from the other side.

"What else could you expect me to do? Massage your arse??"

This snatched a wheeze from y/n's lungs as her body shrinks down. Clutching her stomach, she rises back up and starts to clap while still laughing hysterically.

"Shut up," Tom mumbles, the tops of his cheeks reddening as if someone pinched them.

Harry sputters out laughs as y/n and Tom tell him more about the pranks they have pulled on the rest of the cast members before. But none of them pulls a laugh as loud as the can toppled over Tom's head does.

"Should I throw the other two too, or are you guys coming here to get them?" Sebastian shouts from quite afar with two more cans in his hands.

"No wait! We're coming!" Y/n manages to string the words together in the middle of another wheel of laughter, all while Harry helps her up and Tom cusses out Sebastian.

With the cans finally in their hands, they come back to sit back at their spots. The time followed by goes like that, Y/n spilling her drink as she opens her can, Tom almost slipping over the same drink as he stands up to enact a scene from his favourite movie he was describing and Harry throwing lame jokes here and there.

Tagging- @onecrazydirectioner @tatehuxley222 (you both requested for a part 2 :)) | @marvel1dhp @eloquentree (you both asked to be tagged in all the works <3)

Feel free to reply under any of my original posts or send in an ask requesting to be added in the tag list <3

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Comfort in Goodbye

Summary - Part 48 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends), Garth x Bess

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: Sorry this one’s short again, I've been so busy with family stuff and so focused on the Christmas imagines that Friday snuck up on me. I hope you enjoy this chapter regardless. If you need a little extra Dean or Jensen fix you can check out my Christmas Imagines.

Once Destiny is finally feeling a little happier and settled you all go into the kitchen to have breakfast as a family. By now it’s all cold so you reheat the food and make new coffee. Destiny tries a little bacon with her cow heart; she’s slowly getting used to trying out different human foods just so she can taste new things and have something that you can give her in public if necessary. She still needs the hearts for nutrients and to fuel her body and you and Dean are both coming to accept that and even get used to it. The oozing blood is still a little unsettling, especially dripping down her cheek or chin, but you try to compare it to the ketchup that Dean smears all over his face when eating.

With so much being said in the bedroom, none of you feel the need to talk anymore, so you share your yummy, if not slightly greasy, breakfast in comfortable silence. Once you finish you clear the table, Dean starts the dishes and then Destiny helps to dry up. You brought an old wooden stool in from one of the backrooms so she could reach the sink more easily to help. She loves to be helpful and join in the domestic things with you and Dean. As she finishes drying the dishes she hands them to you so you can put them back in their rightful home. The three of you follow this routine almost daily now so it’s almost like a well-oiled machine; it just feels right. 

With the dishes washed, dried and put away Dean finally goes to find his brother while you take Destiny back to her room to brush her hair and get changed out of her pyjamas. You then leave her to play in her room for a few minutes while you get ready yourself.

As you’re tying your hair up in a ponytail Dean walks in and sits on your bed. “So, uh, Sam found a case…”

“I know. He told me, and I told him that you should go.”

“What? I thought…”

You take a seat beside him, facing him, and take his hands in yours and place them in your lap. “You’re unsettled, restless and starting to unintentionally take it out on me and Destiny. I can handle your outbursts, I’m used to them. She can’t. You need to be out there. We agreed on weening you off the hunts. Cold turkey doesn’t work for you, that’s become abundantly clear.”

“I said I wouldn’t. What about…”

You kiss his cheek. “Dean, Baby. It’s okay. You need to go let off some steam and it’s better you unleash it on a real monster that’s doing real bad than our family or our little girl who’s trying her best to be good. I love you and it’s okay. I know who I married.”

He leans forward and kisses you softly. “Only if you’re completely sure?”

“I am. It’s okay. I just have a couple of requests…”

“Name your price, Sweetheart, anything.”

“Be careful and come home safe.”

He kisses you again. “I promise.”

“Good. Then you go out there and make our world a little bit safer.”

“I love you.”

“You prove that every day. But I do love hearing it too. And I love you.” This time you lean forward and kiss him. You both make the most of the fleeting privacy and make out for a while before he pulls away. 

“Think she’ll be sleeping in her own room by the time I come back?”

“No promises.”

He sighs. “I have to pack and go before I change my mind and stay here with you in this bed.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Good.” He kisses you again and then drags himself off the bed to pack his duffle which has been sitting abandoned in the back of the wardrobe. He stuffs in a few days' worth of clothes and then heads down to the armoury where you’re now storing all the weapons to gather everything else he needs. 

While he packs you go into Destiny’s room and carefully explain that Sam and Dean have to go away for a few days. You sit on her bed as she’s playing with dolls like a normal child. 

“Hey, Sweetie.” She puts the dolls down and crawls over to you. “Are you ready to go out? Get some more stuff to make this room feel more like you’re own. Maybe get some nice new outfits?”

She nods and stands up quickly but you softly grab her wrist and pull her into your lap. “For the next few days, it’s just gonna be you and me, okay?”

“Where Dean going?”

“He and Sam have to take care of something out of town. But they’re gonna come home as soon as they can, okay?”

“Like a hunt?”

You nod. “Yeah, it’s a hunt. But what they’re hunting is doing real bad. It’s hurting people. So they’re just gonna go check it out and see what they can do.”

“Okay…”

“I know you’re still adjusting here, so are we. But Dean needs to do this so he can continue to adjust. So, we’re gonna have a few girls' days! Shopping, makeup, slumber parties, baking, all the fun stuff that Dean grumbles out. How’s that sound?”

“Fun!”

“Awesome! Once Sam and Dean are ready to go then we’ll head out as well. Come on.”

You stop by your room to grab your jacket and handbag before leading her out to the garage where the boys are packing the Impala. Once Dean shuts the trunk he looks up and sees you and Destiny standing in the doorway.

“Look at this, Sammy, we got ourselves a send-off party,” he says with a smirk. He wanders over and kneels down to hug Destiny first. “You be good for Y/N now, won’t you?” She nods. “Good girl. I’m gonna miss you kid, but I’ll be back soon.”

“I miss you too,” she says as she hugs him. 

He kisses the top of her head before standing up and focusing on you. He pulls you in for a tight hug and then kisses you deeply. When he pulls back he whispers, “I love you, Mrs. Winchester. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You smile and blush. “I love you too, Mr Winchester. I’ll be waiting. Stay safe.”

“Always. Especially now that I have something to come home to.”

You kiss him again before pulling away and pushing him away towards the car. “Now go on, we have a girls' weekend to start,” you say with a smile to hide the pain of saying goodbye.

Dean smiles at you as he gets in the car. “Come on, Sammy!”

“You stay safe too, Sam,” you say and you pick Destiny up and sit her on your hip. You both stay there and wave until they’re out of sight. Then you grab the keys to the red car you love so much and drive into Lebanon. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff, @shadow-of-a-cloud, @slut-for-buck, @iprobablyshipit91, @sassy-pelican, @fallenlilangel99, @heavenlyhopeful0, @nelachu2423, @ladysparkles78, @canyouimaginethatstory, @mrlonelycat

[paintedscales]

digimon au idea / headcanon rambles

nothing really too set in stone, just loose stuff to maybe make more coherent later

teiamon is a rookie level digimon based on meteion, and her overall evolution chart would be:

digiegg -> lifomon (baby) -> kotorimon (in-training) -> teiamon (rookie) -> starbirmon (champion) -> meteiamon (ultimate) -> starfall metiamon (mega) / endsingermon (dark digivolution; would definitely be one of those movie special antagonists)

gonetomon is a rookie level digimon based on dravanians in general leaning toward nidhogg, and his overall evolution chart would be:

digiegg -> korumon (baby) -> ornmon (in-training) -> gonetomon (rookie) -> wivremon (champion) -> nidhogumon (ultimate) -> dragonfire nidhogumon (mega)

names are...being workshopped, tbh. anyway...

deciding that 'Eye of Nidhogg' is actually just some nu metal band that estinien listens to and wears some merch of -- yes, i'm totally justifying the eye of nidhogg shirt i drew for him on a whim. idk, i just put nidhogg imagery on him in my aus like i put ketchup on my hot dog.

most of estinien's digidestined friends are largely in france and there's ysayle (crest of light), haurchefant (crest of friendship), aymeric (crest of reliability), lucia (crest of knowledge), and francel (crest of sincerity). estinien is their holder of the crest of courage.

nomin's are in london with her (for the most part). nomin holds the crest of light. there's arik (crest of friendship), lorha (crest of knowledge), minfilia (crest of love), and tataru (crest of kindness).

nomin wears wigs...at least until her hair grows back in. so she has a small collection of both natural color hair and unnatural color hair that she swaps between on occasion when going out. she's actually really shy about being seen without a wig or a cap while she's no longer receiving chemo.

just because it would have been a pain in the ass for me, digimon are only okay, by law, if they're with their partner humans. so as long as teiamon is with nomin, teiamon gets to stay in the hospital with her. and though it is an unusual occurrence, teiamon doesn't get in trouble when she has traveled along with estinien when picking up stuff for nomin as opposed to when she traveled alone.

japan's not the only one that has outlawed digimon, though, tbh... there are plenty of other places. i want to believe that the americas and the uk are probably the most lax about it so long as they're with their people and clearly not causing issues.

more to come eventually, but for now, i gotta draw.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Gale Reviews: ML Season 5 episode 5 Illusion

(Spoilers below)

-XY is me. I’m sick and confused by all the name changes

-MR. BANANA is an expert. But considering Bob roth is considered one too… He might be overqualified.

-Glad Alex is keeping the wigs

-Alex went from Simon to Paula in one season (for those that get that reference.)

-As always Mr.Banana is known for his Expert opinion. Truly the intellectual Paris needs at this time

-Plagg having fun with the alliance ring. Adrien being annoyed that he is an NFT

-I just realized how TERRIFYING this actually is for Adrien. He Litterally has no control of his image and voice. Before he was tricked in his ads, now… yikes my dude

-Adrien sounds so shocked that his father wants to see him in the kitchen

-I will say this, Adrien’s horror and confusion over seeing his father is the reaction I had in passion. I too would be very confused.

-Adrien right now

- Gabriel is so f***ing manipulative. My dude like I can’t.

-The only genuine emotion seems to be when he got burned

- Gabriel is actually really good at manipulation. If I didn’t watch the last 4 seasons I’d almost believe he’s trying to be genuine

-Alya’s theory about Fetch being used makes sense. We know better but it’s a nice idea.

-Nino being left out again. Pass my boy a bone please

-THE RESISTANCE! Nino my guy. I love you dearly. He planning a resistance group

-COMRADE MAYO! Adrien being the token White guy. I love it. Also @xhanisai probably frothing with joy over this

- Nino is shocked that Adrien can have lunch with them. I agree

-Baby boy never been to a cafeteria. That’s adorable.

-DAMN ADRIEN, you gonna kill that girl with your kindness

-Nino, can you give the boy one day to have lunch like normal?

-Nino being an absolute dork and I love it.

-Wait beurre Maître d’hotel (Butter hotel supervisor?) I think he meant butter. XD

-Chloé’s speed is super human

-Nino outted Alya and him to Adrien and Marinette (hilariously they both know)

-Alya is like wtf?

-Nino has a point

- Marinette is mortified tho

-Nino telling them Adrien knew, and Adrien being awkward

-Nino is taking Ls today

-oh and there’s Lila

-Marinette being feral protective

-Nino committing to the bit

-Lila posting social media pics of Adrien. That’s… so like her

-Damn, Nino picked up on the powers thing. He did that BY HIMSELF! Points for Nino. Respect the hustle

-Nino’s plan makes sense tho. But it is a dick move.

-Comrade Béchamel? Cool name

-Adrien really can’t have nice things

-Nino has a conspiracy board. Also I see Alya is rubbing off on him

-Nino is completely right. It is a stunt, but Adrien wants to believe it isn’t

-Nino realizing he went too far. That’s a good friend for apologizing

-And Lila overheard it and is probably gonna tattle

-I did like that quick exchange. Gabriel keeping his cool. But now he knows

-Gabriel acting like a parent… it’s so wrong

-And here comes the plan

-They had Marinette be the klutz. Did they seriously do the PIZZA BIT?!

-All over his White suit. Damn

-But no reaction. To be fair, He was expecting it. But only Marinette’s clumsy is experience

-Adrien… baby boy looks so awkward.

-Walks in, just Pastas his dad. Like not even making it look like an accident

-Now it’s Alya’s turn. I’m embarassed for all of them. Like Marinette could get away with it, because… it’s such a Marinette thing.

-Alya doesn’t even try hiding it. She’s like “this is dumb, yeet” no emotion

-I’m getting such squidward vibes.

-OH S*** He’s taking Adrien out of school. And for once… I can completely understand why. (The dietary food but was HILARIOUS tho)

-Nino went too far, I feel like Adrien is gonna be akumatized more than Gabe.

-Oh… Adrien can’t catch a break

-AND IT WAS A BIT! Gabriel you SOB

-GABRIEL YOU F***ing bastard! I hate and love how brilliant this is. It’s like Collector but crueler

-The plan worked… but it didn’t. Clever bastard

-WHY CAN WE SEE HIS EYES!

-So the bit allowing him to vanish is teleportation.

-Comrade Ketchup. Nino commits to a bit

-Monarch REALLY being petty

-Pollen, Nooroo and Kaalki… oh dear…

-AND CHICKEN! Noooo

-The rings make it so he doesn’t get I’ll from the effects!? Boooo

-he can use Sublimation to make himself INVISIBLE! Omg!

-“Grated Cheese?” “Plagg would be happy?”

-clever move monarch

-BUT NOT CLEVER ENOUGH!

-DEFEATED BY RATS! Amazing

-Dude just faked falling into the sewer.

-So pro, cool strategy, con beaten by sewer rats… I’ll say he broke even

-Magic lightning bolt? Nino honey… no

-But they did get to appologize to Gabriel but… Gabriel being manipulative

-COMRADE TARTER SAUCE. As funny as this is, this now makes the resistance useless.

-Gabriel you manipulative bastard

-This heartwarming scene brought to you by the letter M. FOR MANIPULATIVE F***!!!

-Nino added more sauces

-And Lila… now it’s detrimental

-Comrade sweet and sour oh! Cause she is TWOFACED. Clever 🙄

-And Tomoe is in on this but maybe more than we know

____________________________________________

8/10

I think it’s solid. It has some cringe but I thought the plans were clever. Nino showing how Alya has rubbed off on him is interesting. Though I swear Gabriel’s kindness is F***ing disturbing. And I’m loving it. Gabriel now is starting to feel more like a villain to me.

Adrien also getting some freedom is nice.

But it’s all fake. An illusion.

I am intrigued