#don’t mind the stupid ass smoke effect

[c0smiccl0wn]

it’s sleuth jester eclipse but also halloween art because i have brain rot and want to draw spooky things

(sleuth jesters by @naffeclipse)

[sentientcave]

Fuck-ass Mohawk

Contains: Alcohol, smoking (cigarettes and cannabis), Soap being Soap, Ghost being Ghost, uninvited touching, tall fem reader

Short little thing about Johnny liking it a bit when you're a bitch to him (And Ghost likes it too)

868 Words ~ MDNI

You’d rather stay home and play board games, but Laurie had convinced everyone that it was a good night for clubbing. You hated clubs— The noise, the crowds, the smell of sweat and alcohol and hormones— and spent the better part of club nights standing outside chain-smoking, or crammed into a dirty bathroom stall holding back a friend’s hair as she threw up blue curacao because she didn’t listen to you when you told her to eat dinner before going out. Tonight didn’t look like it was going to end up with anyone puking their guts up, at least. Laurie’s flirting with a gorgeous hunk with a devastating smile, and Alex and Hannah are dancing, so you go out the side door into the alley for some fresh air. Or air, anyway, since the alley’s where folks go to smoke. You light a joint, because at least that will dull the effect that the sound is having on your head. It’s getting close to midnight, which at least means the night is almost over, so long as someone doesn’t drag you along to some weirdo’s house. “Hey, wha’s a bonnie thing like ye doin’ out here all alone?” A voice purrs in your ear. You jump, surprised that he could get so close with out you noticing him, especially once you turn and really look at him. He’s huge, not that tall, probably your height when you’re not wearing boots (You have about an inch and a half on him in your shit-kickers), but broad and way more muscled than anyone has any reason to be, wrapped in a too-tight shirt, and smiling at you, bright blue eyes fixed on yours with unnerving intensity. He pats your shoulder. “Didnae mean to scare ye, lass, just wanted to say hello.” You take a big step to the side, establishing a new bubble of personal space without him in it. “Well, hello,” you say dismissively. “Goodbye.” There’s a snort from a few meters away, a big fellow with a kn95 mask dangling on one ear, his hand up in front of his face, a cigarette clamped between his fingers. “Och, dinnae be like tha’, hen.” “Don’t like it?” you ask, glaring at him. “Go away. Plenty of girls in there’ll go for whatever all this is.” A sweeping, unimpressed glance from his boots and ripped jeans up to his stupid mohawk would usually do the trick, but it only made this fellow smile wider. “No’ enough fer ya? I can sweeten tha deal some. The big fella doesnae mind sharin’ a sweet lass with me noo and again. There’s plenty of ye ta go around.” “Johnny,” the big fellow in question says sternly. His mask is back in place, covering the lower half of his face. “Dun’t look like she’s interested.”

“Tha’s where you’re wrong, LT. She just doesna want to admit it. Hen’s got pride. Wants to make me work for it, right lass?” He winks at you. “No. Don’t like your fuck-ass mohawk.” You puff on your joint, keeping your face still while he splutters, indignant. “Fuck-ass mohawk?” he asks. “What do ye mean by tha’?” “I mean it looks like you have a contentious relationship with your father,” you say. Maybe you’re being a bit mean, but it’s always fun to take a cocky fucker down a peg or two. “I don’t fuck with men with daddy issues. Most of ‘em are cops or military lads.” The big guy— LT?— laughs aloud at that while Johnny’s still looking at you with his mouth hanging open. The side door opens, and your friends pile out, Laurie arm in arm with her hunk, and Hannah and Alex clinging to handsome fellows of their own. “There you are,” Laurie says. “We’re going back to Hannah’s. Are you coming?” “Uh. I guess.” Laurie beams at you, and looks up at her hunk. “Kyle, do you need to find your friends?” “Nah. These lads right here.” He gestures at Johnny and LT. with a grin. “Knew Ghost would be out here, and Soap’s always followin’ him around like the big puppy he is.” “Ah’m no’!” You fall into step at the rear of the group. You’ll probably head home rather than join them, but Hannah’s flat is on the way to your own. Johnny and his handler flank you, matching your stride when you slow down or speed up. Annoying. “So what, is the big guy your replacement daddy?” you ask. “Wha— No!” Johnny says hotly. “He’s just my lieutenant.” “Could be your daddy, if you like,” Ghost says, putting a heavy hand on the back of your neck. “Got a thing for caustic little cunts.” “Oh fuck off,” you say, trying to shove his hand off. His grip squeezes a little tighter, and you try to ignore the way that core clenches around nothing. You channel the heat into anger, and dig your nails into his wrist hard. “Don’t fucking touch me.” He grunts, but doesn’t seem all that affected by your claws. “Look at you, ‘issin’ and spittin’ like a puffed up alley cat. S’cute. But save it for later, eh? Don’t want you to tire yourself out too early.”

[persphonesorchid]

Sativa - KTH | Drabble |

summary: You and Tae get high with your friends, that's it.

genre: fluff (?), suggestive

word count: 1.1k

warnings: Smoking weed; everyone is high. Making out with other people watching, yoongi's hypocrisy, hinted voyeurism/exhibitionism.

notes: I have NO idea what this is or where it came from. What is this behavior, dani?? Hope you guys enjoy!! (Feedback is welcomed and appreciated :))

Master list - HERE

Your eyelids are heavy with smoke, no doubt red and your head feels like it’s miles upwards in the clouds somewhere. A cold bottle of water was pressed into your hands a bit ago and you’re not sure if you’ve drank it or not. You’ve been chewing on the same handful of popcorn for God knows how long, and every time you swallow you don’t ever feel the snack reaching your stomach.

It feels like there’s a bottomless pit where your stomach should be; everything just passing through you.

Your chest and throat burn with a long-delayed cough, almost has you choking on the popcorn and gulping down water. At least... You were sure there was water in the bottle. How long ago was it given to you? When did you drink it all?

You poke a finger into Taehyung’s side with a frown, “Oi.”

He turns his head, a little slowly. He looks just as you’re sure you do; gone. His eyelids are low and he’s blinking at you in slow intervals like a cat, a stupid, crooked grin on his mouth. The warmth of his hand finds your thigh, as though he’d just remembered your legs were over his – or perhaps, just remembered you were there at all. His fingers curl and his thumb presses into your flesh with little pressure.

“Oi back.” He winks, there’s smoke on his exhale and the scent of the weed that’s starting to give you a headache after one hit too many. You were supposed to be sharing the blunt that hangs loose between Taehyung’s fingers, and as quickly as the thought enters your mind it’s gone.

You stare at him because you’ve also forgotten what you had called him for in the first place. His hand moves from your thigh, and you barely resister the light grip at the back of your neck.

“You good?” Taehyung leans closer, a brow raised as his gaze darts between yours. His fingers apply pressure just where your neck meets the base of your skull and you shiver.

There’s a brief passing thought as you nod slowly against his hold, something reminding you that Taehyung and his boys were way more experienced with this than you were. While you're prone to zoning out and giggling at anything that's barely funny, Taehyung and the boys has enough experience to be mellow.

It’s not that you’ve never done it before, it’s just that the effects leave you all over the place, so you don’t do it often. That, you guess, is what always comes back to bite you in the ass. Your body’s never prepared for the numb hot and cold feeling, and feeling like you’re watching events through a pinhole.

The blunt was long passed from Taehyung when he closes the gap, fingers of his free hand pressing into your cheeks to hold you steady. He kisses you quickly and you’re left chasing, leaning forward as he pulls back.

There’s a faint scent of his cologne under the heady scent of weed, and Taehyung doesn’t keep you waiting for long. He tips your head back slightly, slotting his mouth over yours in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else. The hand at the back of your neck moves up to your hair and tugs, and your fingers curl into the rolled-up sleeves of his jersey.

There’s a thud and the couch you’re sitting on shifts. Taehyung barely pulls away from you, and there’s something more than the cannabis that keeps his eyelids low and pupils blown. You tilt your head a little, and through the haze of smoke behind Taehyung on the loveseat across is Yoongi. His foot is still up on the armrest of the couch, and though he’s in the same state that everyone else is in, there’s still a sharpness to his gaze.

“If you guys are gonna fuck, do it elsewhere. No one wants to see that shit.”

He says this and with incredulity, you stare at him. The last time you did this with them, Yoongi had a friend over who’d been sitting on his lap for most of the night. And you don’t mean sitting decently, her knees were perched on either side of his thighs, kissing his neck and his hands were on her ass.

“Dude. You have no room to talk.” Hoseok mumbles, passing the last of the blunt to Jungkook who was busy building another one. His gaze is just as sharp as Yoongi’s, a switch having flipped between hits; Hoseok hiding behind Jay.

Yoongi flips him off, and reaches for the bag of chips that was thrown carelessly on the coffee table.

Taehyung brings your attention back to him, nudging his nose against your cheek, and licking at your jaw. His lips press against your pulse and his tongue and teeth follow. You’re hyperaware of Taehyung’s every touch, his breath against your skin, the way his other hand is squeezing at your hip and damn near pulling you into his lap.

Your lower tummy burns, and maybe it’s the weed, but it’s intense. You’re gripping at his arms, tilting your head back to let him do what he wants. He lets his teeth drag on the spot he’s bruised as he pulls away, you whine and Taehyung chuckles deep in his chest.

“You’re so gone right now.” He brushes a thumb under your eye. He leans forward and you think he’s going to kiss you, but he tilts your head slightly, and you’re met with the gazes of your friends who’s so far been extremely quiet.

“Bet they’d all like a show, hm?” his teeth nip at your earlobe, and even though he says this softly, the room’s too quiet and you’re certain everyone heard. “Bet I can fuck you right here and make ‘em watch.”

Your squirming doesn’t do a thing to help the tingling ache between your legs, and Taehyung’s gaze does nothing but make you whine his name.

Taehyung smiles sweetly, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m not that high.” He winks, “You’re for my eyes only.”

He pulls away, back to where he was originally and you feel as though you’ve stepped out of a bubble. There’s soft trap music playing from Jungkook’s phone, and his ears are red as he passes the blunt he lit over to Hoseok.

Taehyung taps your thigh once and then again, softly, a brief glance your way and then at the others. “Show’s over, stop staring.” He says to no one in particular, but everyone finds interest in something else.

Tagging: @xpeachesncream @eoieopda @euphoricfilter @luaspersona @dontstoptime @allhobbitstoisengard @madbutgloriouspond @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @blog-name-idk @eren-fall

[noro-noro-noro]

keep having dreams butbhavent been able to write them down recently - they're long and detailed and I remember the fact they were long and detailed but when I wake up I don't hold on to them I think "what time is it?" & then just close my eyes and think about not moving rather than thinking "let's start from the beginning"

anyway. I don't remember the beginning. I remember some kind of boss fight with a LARGE glowing purple kind of humanoid if stretched horizontally and all muscle, and had a small face on a hwad that was a bit like a sharkwith wings for ears, and had huge hammers for hands. mostly naked except for some little loincloth or whatever. when I'm telling you this guy was built like a refrigerator with short legs like he was WIDE and maybe twice as tall as me. if I was in the boss area but not officially aggroing him, every 10? seconds or so he'd send a ground wave towards me that kind of looked like whitish purple foam. the boss arena had 2 entrances by the way - one portal on a wall & one portal dark and free standing maybe 3/4 of the way towards the back of the area. the arena itself was an outdoor thing, night time, dirt ground and spooky Halloween trees as the border for the area. there were some piles of dirty - walls of dirt I guess, fairly thick and a bit taller than me, like the badlands or like small plateaus, and I'd use these to peek around at the boss without carcuing his attention. Iwas there with people. one of them was a dude I think named Nathaniel. there was smth where I had to get affected by the foam status effect w/o taking the damage, or try to lead the foam wave rush thing into a certain area, but it was difficult and you couldn't jump over it bc it was tall & also did like 45% of my health in damage. I think the boss was called the mind lord. he spebt mostof his time minding his business unless he saw me, but then he'd just lumber around. not really that scary.

something about a darkened school stairwell. night time. was this through the other portal? who knows, I only remember two scenes.

tiphareth special move was actually using four things in quick succession. heizou was in the team for some reason anyway your first card you needed to use compressed the enemy team into one entity, made of dogs. as you were compressing, 3 random dogs with hats would join and be crushed too. the second move was the do as much damage as their date of birth, (something else for low damage) & date of death. this usually would . something. a weirdfoggy filter would go over the screen, a silhouette of a man smoking a pipe in the bottom right corner where whose turn it was would appear. & then when heizou's turn, he looked older & scruffy in the bottom right corner thumbnail in a way that I personally like & that genshin would never allow bc having stubble is illegal. and it lined up perfectpy with the fog man smoking a pipe. then we get a little cutscnee - it's his dead friend but also in the dream a mentor - ghostly pale, but he throws his arm around his friend & points and they frown and then laugh & the screen goes white, & anything that remains takes a fatal blow. so I was like "oh those are what the datamined frames are for".

had a second dream after going back to sleep. don’t remember much of this either. i was at work, but work was in a different location more like the women’s center, & everyone was louder & rowdier & got alog less well. jaylene was there. i wanted to go home eventually bc there was some stupid ass debate about something or other & i was thinking about sneaking out but then i remembered my flights & was like ahh.... since i was in florida for smereason

[johnnybabymama]

let’s drive away together - johnny suh

pairing: johnny x reader (soft!dom johnny)

explicit warnings: dry humping, spanking, fingering, oral stimulation (giving/receiving), dirty talk, car sex, cum play

summary: it’s friday night - you want to go to a club. you‘ve had the worst week, but now you’re here to have some fun instead. your night takes a turn when a certain man catches your attention.

note: english is not my first language

———————————————————————

9:53 p.m.

the cab stops. you lean foward to pay and get out of the car, ready to forget everything that happened at work this week. your coworkers, your boss, your customers - nothing matters anymore.

before you make your way up to the crowd, you check how you look in the big window right beside the entrance. today your makeup turned out great and besides that you feel quite confident and sexy right now. it kinda shows, because of the outfit you chose for this occasion.

you’re wearing a black tight silk dress with some lace knee socks underneath. those have always made you feel powerful and that’s just what you needed right now.

spontaneously you decide to quickly go for a smoke, to relax your mind, before you enter the club. you turn around and look for a calm place to enjoy your cigarette. that’s when you notice the almost empty parking lot on the opposite side of the street - you walk right over.

you start searching for your cigarettes in your little purse. you pull the pack out, hoping to find your lighter in there.

“fuck, i left my lighter at home!”, you whine.

suddenly you hear a clicking sound behind you. it’s 10 p.m so you don‘t really see anything and you decide to turn your phone‘s flashlight on.

you scream outloud, when you spot a man walking up to you.

„sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you!”, he chuckles. he than pulls out a lighter out of his left pocket, handing it to you.

“uhm, thank you. you seemed a bit scary at first…”, you laugh nervously, not knowing how to respond correctly. you light your cigarette and give it back to him, smiling at him.

“don’t worry, i’d be scared too.” he says calmly, also taking out a cigarette.

now you two are standing there, in the dark, not talking, but enjoying each other’s presence. you turn your head around.

man, he’s a really good looking guy.

you barely see anything, but you can’t take your eyes of him. the way he effortlessly looks good, literally just standing there smoking, is crazy to think about. you’ve always had a little attraction to guys who smoke. you can’t really explain why you feel this way.

after he’s done with his cigarette he looks up to you.

this is the first time you both have eye contact - it’s doing something to you. a loud gulp from you breaks the awkward silence, and it’s just now that you realise how near your standing next to eachother. he probably heard your reaction. it makes you feel embarrassed.

“i’m going inside, you wanna come with me?”, he tilts his head, pointing to the club.

his presence really made you forget what your plan had been in the first place. you wanted to get wasted - forget about everything.

“you can go in first. i’ll be there in a second.”, you say, even though you wanted to go with him. you just didn’t want to seem so clingy.

the guy nods with a stupid smirk on his face, and walks past you disappearing in the dark.

after you make sure he can’t hear you anymore, you sigh out loud.

what is he doing to you? why does he have such an effect on you?

but you turn that embarrassing thought into a good one. maybe it’s fate, maybe he’s just what you needed right now. usually you are not that type of person for one-night-stands. but you think that he’s worth it to try out new things.

somehow you’re excited to get to know him and his actions better. you take a deep breath in, probably the biggest one you’ve taken in all day and choose to enter the club.

———

as you step in, you let soak in all the different impressions. there are more people than you thought there might be. at first it’s hard to even keep your eyes open, because of all the different lights. soon you start to recognise the song that’s playing and you start feel the spirit you’ve been wanting all week long.

“hey, come sit here!”, his screaming voice catches your attention.

you turn around, trying to find out where his voice was comming from. moments later you manage to find him sitting there in the corner.

the way he was sitting made you feel things. he was manspreading.

you walk straight to the table. he places his hand to the spot right next to him, signalising you to sit down.

“i’m johnny by the way”, he looks you straight in the eyes.

“i’m y/n”, you laugh considering the way you just now found out his name was johnny.

“what are you doing here today?”, you ask stupidly, trying to come up with a topic for your conversation with him.

he raises one brow. “i’m killing time, i’ve been bored all day long. and you y/n, what are you doing here?” he’s still staring at you with his playful eyes.

you break the eye contact and look around.

“y/n?” he tilts his head, trying to look at you.

you lean back and get comfortable on the couch - throwing your head back and looking at the ceiling. “i’ve had a rough week, i’m here to dose of, maybe get wasted. i don’t really know it myself.”, you glance at the bottle of wine standing right in front of johnny. his eyes follow your eyes.

“i know something better than that.”, he says confidently.

you roll your eyes back. but on the inside you don’t know if you should find him funny or annoying for saying that.

he seems to notice. because he starts laughing: “i’m not joking though, i’ve been looking at you for a while now, before i called you over here.”

you crossed you left leg over your right one and a bit of your thigh gets exposed. johnny is not really trying to be slick with the way he looks at what was happening. you can clearly see, that he was eye-fucking you.

but you don’t mind.

this is what you came for, right? to have some fun.

“so johnny, what’s your plan?” you ask, trying really hard to not seem excited.

you feel him take your hand and dragging you out. you laugh out loud.

“why are you laughing y/n?” he’s amused and still dragging you out of the club.

“it seems like you’re not willing to wait anymore. you’re desperate.” you smirk.

“watch that mouth of yours.” his expression changes and his grip gets harder.

———

10:27 p.m.

it’s fucking freezing outside, you begin to shiver. your outfit was not convinient.

“johnny, what’s the plan?”, you ask again, because he hasn’t given you an answer yet.

you whine outloud.

“stop whining, y/n. we’re going to my car”, he says with clenched teeth.

you can’t help it - you’re excited. it’s been too long since you’ve had sex.

you need this right now.

it took you 3 minutes to get to his car.

“get to the back seat and undress yourself!”, his voice got a lot deeper.

“wait for me and don’t touch yourself.”, he demands.

you do walk up his car - but you feel cheeky and brave. johnny doesn’t even know you, there’s no need to feel embarrassed. and this is probably going to be a one-night-stand, so you slowly start stripping yourself down in front of his eyes.

firstly you grab your panties. you’re glad you wore a dress, so it’s easy to pull them down.

secondly you bend foward too take off your shoes - both of you know it’s just an excuse to show of your naked ass.

thirdly you open the door and crawl in, again slowly and sexy.

he licks his lower lip, with his eyes glued on your bare ass. a loud and raspy groan escapes his mouth.

you close the door behind you and wait for him to come inside. a feeling of victory overcomes you, because of his facial expressions.

after minutes that felt like years he finally opens the door and sitts right next to you.

“why did you take so long, johnny?” you mutter, grinning at him.

“i’ve been trying to make you desperate, to tease you, but you’re the one doing that to me” he replies.

you can’t hold yourself back anymore and climb on his lap.

his hands immediately find your ass and he squeezes it.

you subconsciously started to grind on his clothed dick and you both groan.

you are so needy for him.

grinding faster you lean your face foward, to kiss his lips. but he stops your actions, when he grabs your chin and lifts it with his left hand, that had just been on your ass. his grip is hard, but you kinda enjoy it.

“do you think i’ll let you act they way you did before? stripping down in front of me, hm?”

you gulp, not knowing how to react. and besides that you’re incredibly horny by now.

“answer me!” he yells at you.

“i-i don’t know what to say.”, you look so helpless right now.

your facial expressions turns him even more on and he breathlessly moans. it’s the most erotic noise you’ve ever heard.

suddenly he smacks your ass, probably hard enough to leave a mark.

“fuck, what was that for?” you scream.

“for your bad behaviour, y/n”, his voice is just groaning at this point. his sadistic ass gets turned on from your reaction to his smacks. so he does it again.

“ah, fuck!”

“you like that, don’t you?” he grabs your hair, in order for you to look at him.

“don’t tease me, just take your clothes of already!”, you try to ignore his question.

he grinns at you, but he also starts doing what you wanted from him.

you get off his lap and sit down right next to him. you stare at johnny, while he unbuttons his shirt. he’s going really slow, probably trying to tease you again. than he strips of his shirt.

your jaw drops and you quickly try to hide it. it would’ve been embarrassing, if he saw you like that. but his defined abs really make you want to slide your fingers upon them.

“you like what you see?”, johnny whispers.

you just nod and wait for him to take off his pants.

when he finally pulls them of, you here a sound. his dick just slapped against his stomach. he really must be hard.

“hm y/n, you really need to take care of my dick right now.”, he’s desperate - you see it in his eyes.

you position yourself on all fours, ready to take him in your mouth. leaning foward you take his right hand and put it on your head. signalising, that you are allowing him to choose your pace.

his eyes widen.

he again tightens his grip on your hair and roughly shoves his dick in your mouth.

he’s big. you don’t even have a third of his length in your mouth, but you already have to choke.

he fastens his thrusts and uses his left hand to hold onto the car. he’s right hand still tucked in your hair. johnny takes a look down on you, he’s overwhelmed from the sight that’s given to him.

you taste his precum far back in your throat. saliva is dripping out of your mouth running down your neck.

he moans louder than you’ve ever heard him before. hearing this motivates you to pick up the pace.

johnny starts twitching in your mouth. he’s breathing heavily. still guiding your head up and down.

realizing he’s close, makes you feel incredibly good. you’re getting really wet down there yourself.

“ah fuck y/n, you’re so good. i-i’m coming.”, and just as he finishes this sentence, he spills cum all over his stomach and in your mouth.

he lets go of your hair, but praises you a bit more.

“fuck baby, you made me feel like no one else did before you.”, johnny mutters.

his fingers slide up his abs, collecting his sticky and warm cum.

he grabs your chin and pushes two fingers inside your mouth. slightly sucking on his fingers you instantly moan, him feeling the vibration on his fingers.

“yea, that’s it.” he praises.

you’re so tensed, your pussy hasn’t been touched all this time. and you need your relief.

right now.

your right hand makes its way down. you press your middle finger on your clit, and this is enough for you to shake.

a chocked moan escapes your mouth, still having johnny’s fingers inside of you.

johnny smacks your ass once again, trying to make clear, that you should stop touching yourself.

“johnny, please touch me!” you cry out.

“oh baby, you’re begging right now - you needy little girl”, he points out.

you’re still on all fours, his hand reaches to your butt again. he caresses and squeezes your cheeks.

but you want more.

you press your wet pussy on his fingers. and he starts to rub you.

“you’re soaking, you’ve been waiting for my fingers all this time, baby.”

you moan in response, than he finally slides two fingers in you.

“oh fuck johnny!” you can’t help but scream right now, subconsciously you started to fuck yourself on his fingers and he seems to enjoy it.

johnny curls up his two fingers, touching your g-spot immediately - he got you trembling for him.

“cum for me baby, scream my name when you do it!”, he commands.

and that’s all you needed to hear for you to cum. screaming and shaking on his lap.

johnny pulls you up for the most intimate and passionate kiss you’ve ever had.

you’re both out of breath.

“let’s drive away together”

[acemapleeh]

World Stage

Summary:

Sibling arguments come from the most personal of places. Post-world war 1 tension boils over regarding where Alfred and Matthew see where they stand in this new world that’s come from the rubbles of war.

Word Count: 3010

Read on Ao3

“What the fuck was that?”

Alfred looked towards his offending brother, lighter burning in one hand and a fresh cigarette between his lips. Christ he couldn’t even start a smoke without Matt starting a fight with him. This was exactly the reason he was dreading the steamship journey home. Everyone was in a foul mood after the peace conference; Alfred had thought it went as good as it could have gone given the convoluted relationships Europe had. Really, it was best that an outsider to all that, like himself, got the final word in how things would settle out. Not part of Europe, not part of Arthur’s stupid empire- Alfred was the perfect neutral party to lay out the negotiations. Apparently, everyone had a problem with it including his own goddamn brother.

He finished lighting the cigarette and stuffed his lighter in his interior coat pocket before answering. “Look Matt, I don’t see what the fuck the problem is.”

Matthew held an icy glare and Alfred was painfully reminded of the fact the two were going to be sharing a cabin for the next two weeks. At least the journey would go by quickly if his brother ended up murdering him in his sleep. “You don’t see the problem, Al? Do you want me to compile a list and staple it to your forehead where your massive ego is stored? There’s got to be enough room there if that’s the case.”

There was a long drag of silence as smoke dissipated into the fog.

“No, really, tell me how you thought saying, ‘well jeez, now that we all got that out of our systems, let me fix everything for you guys and won’t fuck any of you over.’”

“I don’t see why the idea of an institute of collective security was so outlandish. If Francis and Arthur would have just listened to me instead of having just their own interests in mind, my plan could have gone into full effect. And I don't know how Vargas had the idea he could speak up as much as he did. Fucker changed sides and I'm supposed to let him get what he wants? Also, how the hell was I supposed to know that everyone was making territorial negotiations in secret?” Alfred let out a long sigh, feeling a headache forming behind his temples. The echoing sigh of leaders long ago reminded him not to entangle himself with European alliances. His government was starting to really care about their image in how they appeared to the rest of the world. He knew now that all this was over, he was going to be back in his country’s definition of isolation. “Francis was being completely unreasonable- hell, everyone was. I felt like I was the only voice of reason.”

“Papa had every right to be furious- it’s the second time in fifty years Ludwig had invaded his country. Alfred, you know how deep history goes in Europe. You can’t just tell them that from now they’ll be negotiating and never go to war again. Why the hell did you think you needed to take charge of this conference?”

Alfred turned his back to the coastlines of France, the summer fog having swallowed it by this point.

“Matt, I’m finally getting the respect that I’ve been trying to accomplish since I became my own nation. I worked my ass off the last half of the 19th century building my economy up. Everyone thought I was a joke when I was at war with myself. I finally have everything that those old bastards kept looking down on me about. You're in the same situation. This war finally let you prove to them your tactics and military are just as good, if not better than theirs. I don’t understand why you don’t feel the same way I do.”

“You only needed a year and a half of fighting to prove yourself; I needed all five to show them and even then, it barely got me a seat on the League.” Even from a sidelong glance, Alfred could see the purple shadows under his brother’s eyes and the redness fogging his normally clear eyes. His voice was thin like he was trying desperately to balance on a taut fishing line. “I don’t want to have to go through this again Alfred. That’s why I’m so mad these negotiations went like crap even after half a year of trying to get them right. I don’t want to find myself cowering in a trench ten or twenty years from now because these idealistic ideas of yours all meant nothing. Fuck Alfred, your own government won’t even let you on the League that you fucking made.”

“You know how you can avoid doing this shit all over again Matt? By leaving Dad once and for all. He’s the only reason you had to be involved with all this shit from day one.”

“Well, I’m so fucking sorry that some of us know what a sense of loyalty and duty still are. Sorry I didn’t have the luxury of showing up four years late after selling my goods to both sides of the war. I’m so sorry that you think you’re better than me because you can go around shouting-”

“I’m sorry- a sense of loyalty? Cut that crap, Matthew. I know you hate getting stuffed up in London when you’d rather freeze your balls off in the Yukon. You are more than fucking capable to be on your own.” Alfred huffed, head lolling back to look at the grey sky above. “I’m not better than you because I made my voice heard over a century ago and do things the way I think is best. I’m better because I don’t have to listen to Arthur and have pretend sovereignty.”

"I earned my spot at signing that treaty as well as a seat at your League of Nations without having done what you did. I’m respected as I am." There was a slight waver in his voice that the American was quick to note. “I understand Dad being against it but you too?”

"I thought Arthur was going to use you as well as the others to just have more counts under his name." Alfred sighed, not entirely sure where to direct his anger. He knew Matt was frustrated but still sat content in his seat alongside Britain, smiling politely and never voicing what had been aching in his chest for years. It would be too inconvenient for others if Matthew Williams spoke his mind.

But back there in that meeting hall, he had done just that. Alfred watched as his brother stood at his full height in front of the room, the delegates arguing around him and not seeming to have noticed. Even Arthur was too caught up in a heated discussion with Francis to notice his son was no longer seated diligently at his side. Matthew’s mouth had moved, voice lost in the chaos. He had tried, again and again, trying to summon the voice that had carried him through the war.

It was Jack’s shout that silenced the room and a knowing look was exchanged between the sons of Kirkland. The two stood together now and Matthew’s voice carried throughout the hall. He spoke of his men who had died, of the sacrifices made on behalf of the British Commonwealth but the blood that soaked the soil was Canadian. His equality was earned on the frontlines of France and a seat in Paris was all he asked for. This quickly lead way to Jack, Charlie, Rajesh, and Marick speaking their own demands of representation separate from Britain. Those weren’t just Englishmen who died and like hell was it going to be remembered that way.

Alfred’s eyes had met Matthew’s when silence fell about the room. It was a silent plea for his brother to support him, that if the United States spoke up in reinforcement… Arthur’s voice was the first to break the silence. His tone was harsh but his words weren’t berating. Alfred knew the various tones his father used, this was his most professional, the fakest. This was his performance in front of the crowd of angry nations. The Brit showed no weakness on the forefront.

Matthew’s hands that had been held tightly in front of him the entire time he had been speaking were losing their grip. The short nail of his thumb scratched at the opposite knuckle over a scar that he had made with this habit.

Alfred had agreed with Arthur’s words back in January. Canada’s independent policies stopped at international affairs, Arthur could sweep in and change their constitution and Matt couldn’t protest, there was no way in hell you could trust collective security to someone at the end of Britain’s puppet strings. Alfred watched his brother’s fidgeting hands freeze as he spoke against him. The room was back in chaos, words drowning Matthew outside and in. Before things got too far, however, the Canadian’s voice rang out. He pleaded again, his back straight and voice unwavering as he demanded proper recognition- the choir of the Commonwealth at his side. Once more the room was quiet and it would be up to Arthur to be the first to speak. It had felt like ages as Alfred glanced at his father, who was seated just at his right, with curiosity. Green eyes narrow, hands a frigid steeple at his chin, and lips a tight line… 

‘I’ll allow it.’

It took nearly another hour for Alfred to believe it and be convinced.

"Just claim independence already. You just spent the last five years proving you can more than handle yourself." The reflective glint in mirrored glasses was still taking time to get used to. "Hell Matthew, what haven't you given up for the sake of proving yourself to Arthur fucking Kirkland. You know all he gave a shit about at that conference was keeping his empire together and taking whatever he could from Ludwig for himself. Did you see what just asking for independence did? Jack shit. You barely have any real international power. Maybe if you actually fought for it you would be standing here on your own free will. You think you can just ask politely again?"

Alfred could feel the tremor of the railing through his spine.

“I’m not an idiot.” Matthew hissed. He sighed, hands letting go before being stuffed in his pockets. “Besides, this war took everything out of me, out of all of us. I can’t believe Morgan is fighting Dad now of all times. I mean- aren’t they just as exhausted as the rest of us? Declaring independence in the middle of us trying to make peace?”

“Honestly- you should be doing the same. It would have been the perfect time to-”

“Are you out of your mind Alfred Fucking Jones?” Matt spun to face his brother, looking ready to toss him overboard and leave him to the depths of the Atlantic. “Start another war? With what men? With what resources? With what willpower and energy?”

“You think Dad’s in any better shape than you are? Matt just take advantage of him! He does crap like that in his sleep!”

“I’ve been a dominion for fifty years and have been perfectly fine! I don’t want anything else right now!”

“Of course you are! You would be happy still being a colony if it meant making someone else happy!” Alfred’s cheeks felt hot and he quickly snuffed out his finished smoke to toss it into the vastness of the sea. “You take a deep breath of that frigid, sea salt air, and then you can tell me that being the British Dominion of Canada sits perfectly well with you. Go ahead, Matt. You royally fucked yourself over just so you can pretend to be Dad’s little golden child. You ran yourself ragged for five years and got yourself killed I don’t even know how many times just to get a pat on the back. How fucking low is your self-esteem?”

The fist that collided with his jaw was almost satisfying but he could tell that Matthew was still holding back for the sake of appearances. His face was still intact and his body was in the confines of the ship. The bruise that was already forming was going to sting for the rest of the way home.

Matthew’s eyes were like icicles in late winter, lethal if caught by the still pointed blades but dripping cold drops as the warm, morning sun caught them in its light.

“I cannot even begin to describe how fucking tired I am. I just want to go home, Alfred. All I want is to go home and stare at my mountains again. I want to feel my snow under my boots, I want to drink good coffee with syrup from my trees, and listen to the French my people speak.” He took a deep breath, hands clutched to fists at his side. “I haven’t been home for almost six years and have been fighting in this goddamn war the entire time. I want to go home and be with my people again.” A trembling hand ran through overgrown blonde curls. “Fuck, I don’t know if it’s just that I’m withdrawn from all the cocaine and morphine they had us on or if I’m just fucking sick of everything.”

Alfred rubbed at his jaw a moment longer, regaining his stance with the aid of the railing. Nervous laughter bubbled up from his chest. He knew the feeling. It was the same all nations felt; that deep connection to the Earth that was every part of them as they were a part of it. From where they were born and where they would return when they would die. The small vial of his own soil felt heavy in his breast pocket. “Canada... what’s holding you back then huh? You’re my brother whether you like it or not. I know you asked for your own seat on the League just out of pride and not because you actually believed in what I was doing. Fuck, you actually spat in Dad’s face in ‘37. I know you got something in you.”

There was a peal of small laughter from chapped lips. “Yeah, no thanks to you or Papa. A small rebellion out of my system for the rest of the century I suppose.” He had reached into his breast pocket for a plain handkerchief, glasses pushed to his forehead as he wiped his eyes. “Fuck Alfred, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I haven’t been sleeping well even though we’ve been in a hotel for six months with real beds and food and I just- I feel like a piece of shit for being able to enjoy that.”

It was the same problem Alfred knew ate at his brother time and time again. Guilt. It never mattered what the situation was. Even when Matthew was asking for basic needs as a child, his brow would be furrowed and he tried to get his words out. That was something that hadn’t changed between them as the centuries went by. For Matthew, everything needed mental preparation whereas Alfred simply spoke his mind. Different times favored different approaches. If Matt could panic over deciding what type of jam to put on Arthur’s toast, Alfred could only imagine the strain he had gone through with making life or death calls. He didn’t know everything he had gone through, just whatever he had felt like sharing which only seemed to happen when his belly was full of rum or wine on sleepless nights.

“We’re going home. That’s all that matters. Why don’t we just forget about all this crap for the next two weeks yeah? This will be the only peace of mind we’ll get for a while. You know… I look forward to a good cup of coffee in my own kitchen too. You think I can get away with disappearing into the Appalachians?”

“Only if you think I can hide out in the Arctic for five years.”

“Matt, you can stand at the mouth of the Niagara Falls stark naked and no one will notice you for at least ten weeks.”

Matt’s obnoxious French laughter was the best thing Alfred’s heard in weeks. It went on for five minutes and only ended when Matthew put himself in a coughing fit.

“Easy there- jeez, I know I’m funny but not that funny.”

“N-no, fuck- I just remembered something.” Matt wiped away new tears and put an arm across Alfred’s broad shoulders. “Do you remember what today is? The date?”

Alfred thought for a moment. His sense of time got jumbled whenever he traveled and the last six months had definitely been a blur. He quickly glanced at his watch and broke out in a grin. “We’re fucking idiots, aren’t we? July 5th.”

“Missed both of our birthdays by a hair.”

“So what do you suggest Mister Dominion of Canada?”

“How much of your medical kit is left? I want to see if I can forget this war even happened. I have Scotch and rationed rum in the room that I was planning on finishing before I made it home anyway.”

“I have plenty of everything, but sadly, no Parisian prostitutes to ease you to blissful sleep.” Alfred pulled out two cigarettes with a shit-eating grin. “How many times did you catch syphilis again? I know enough for Arthur to be really fucking proud of you.”

Matt snatched a smoke and lit it eagerly. “You should try it sometime, but if jacking off to old photographs is all you want, I won’t stop you.”

“Fuck off. I can’t believe how much you take after Francis.”

“And you’re more of a prude than Dad pretends to be.”

They were quiet for some time, smoking and watching the waves of the Atlantic as the horrors of Europe became further and further away.

[cinnaminsvga]

🌷 social media au where y/n posts an advertisement looking for a new place to stay that is closer to campus, causing seven upperclassmen to make it their mission to recruit her into their dormitories 🌷

A/N: THIS TOOK FOREVER AND I KINDA RUSHED IT AT THE END BUT HOPEFULLY IT MAKES SENSE?? anyway, yoongi didn’t do anything stupid (depending on your definition of stupid) so no need to worry about him being cringey,,, i spared you all from the secondhand embarrassment but i won’t be so kind next time!! anyway... enjoy || W.C. 3.8K

prev // part 11 // next masterlist here.

By the time Seokjin’s phone begins to ring, Yoongi can already feel the dread settle deep inside his bones. The familiar coil of anxiety tightens around his throat like a vice, and Yoongi has to remember how to breathe to keep himself from fainting like a corseted Victorian lady. 

“Well, that must be her!” Seokjin chimes, promptly declining your call without a glance. Yoongi catches a glimpse of your contact photo anyway: it’s an unflattering angle of you from below your neck, giving the illusion of a multitude of chins. If it were any other time, Yoongi might have smiled like a lovesick fool. 

“Don’t you dare let her in here,” Yoongi seethes. He tries to sound menacing, but the effect is severely diminished by how badly his voice cracks. He tugs at Seokjin by the sleeve, but the older man refuses to budge. “Hyung, I’m serious. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Are you done live-tweeting your confusion now? Finally got the memo? I always knew you were a smart boy,” Seokjin laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder with his tomato sauce-covered tongs. “Since we’re on the same page now, why don’t you change clothes while I finish cooking? I know your entire wardrobe is composed of the free t-shirts you got from job fairs, but it would do well to wear a clean, unstained shirt.”

Yoongi swipes at him, hissing like the catboy that he is. “You’re the one who wiped shit on me, asshole. And yes, I figured out what you are trying to do. You think you’re so slick, but I know that you’re just trying to embarrass me in front of Y/N!”

Seokjin shrugs. “It isn’t like I’m trying to be slick. I embarrass you all the time. Besides, I’m setting you up on a date with the love of your life! You should be thanking me, if I’m being honest.”

Yoongi stammers, his jaw dropping in shock. “Love of my–?”

Seokjin waves his tongs in his face, silencing him. “Oh, hush. Don’t even try to hide it, Yoongi. I figured out that you like Y/N. Your weird behavior finally makes sense! After years of you avoiding her, I always thought you were just bad at forming human connections, but turns out you’ve got a gigantic heart boner for my best friend!”

“Please don’t phrase it like that,” Yoongi groans, smashing his head against his kitchen counter. He hopes a few brain cells might have died, just so he can stop processing the words coming out of Seokjin’s mouth. “Actually, just please stop talking.”

Seokjin snorts in exasperation as if Yoongi was the dramatic one between them. “Point is, this is a favor that I’ve chosen to grant you from the goodness of my heart! As I said, I’m giving you the love life you deserve! So stop whining and get moving before Y/N gets up here.”

“There isn’t any goodness nor a heart inside of you. And more importantly, when was the last time you did anything for free, you capitalist bastard!”

Seokjin clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Yoongi-chi. You’ve already paid me for my services by offering me front row seats to watch you lose your fucking mind. And that, my friend, is priceless.”

“Aha! So you do admit that this is all just a ploy to humiliate me!” Yoongi shouts. He grabs a knife from his scabbard, pointing it threateningly at Seokjin. He doesn’t even flinch, instead gently guiding Yoongi by the wrist over to the chopping board where he had placed some garlic cloves beforehand. Without prompting, Yoongi’s hand begins to move, his culinary instincts taking over.

“Yes and no,” Seokjin admits as he grabs Yoongi’s cast iron pan from the top shelf (which he has never gotten to use since he bought it, ever since Seokjin had borrowed it once and placed it too high for him to retrieve.) “I’m honestly trying to help you out here, my dude. Besides, even if shit hits the fan, Y/N isn’t gonna think any less of you. She’s too much of an idiot to resent anyone.”

“Speaking from experience?” Yoongi huffs, eyeing him with intense vitriol. “Can’t say I understand how she’s gone this long without killing you.” The next time the two of them are alone together in the wilderness, he can’t promise that his hands won’t find their way around Seokjin’s throat, and it won’t be sexy.

“Hmm. Yeah, definitely,” he says, nodding absentmindedly. As he begins to season the steak, he hands the cast iron pan to Yoongi. “Start preheating this. We need it to be smoking hot before we can place the steak on there.”

“I know how to cook a steak, fucker. And who said you’re allowed to serve my Wagyu steak? I was saving that for a special occasion!”

Seokjin looks up from his ministrations long enough to raise a brow at him. “So going on your first ever date with Y/N isn’t considered a special occasion?”

Yoongi falters, eyes widening. “N-no, that’s not what I mean!” he defends hotly, but he quickly snaps out of it. “Wait, no! This is not a date! Not when both parties did not agree to any of this!”

Seokjin pauses from his cooking to place a perfectly manicured hand on his hip. “I mean, Y/N agreed to it, so are you going to reject her? Huh? Too good for her and my spaghetti?”

Yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No, she did not agree to this. She doesn’t even know you’re forcing her to eat lunch with me.”

“How can you say that with such certainty?” Seokjin challenges, puffing his cheeks. “You don’t even know what I told her!”

Except I do know what you said, Yoongi thinks darkly to himself. And more importantly, I know what she thinks you were implying. He is pretty sure that the words “crush on him during high school” have seared themselves underneath his eyelids forevermore.

But instead, he says, “Yeah, well. If what you told her is as vague as what you told me, I have a pretty good hunch that this is going to blow up into a huge misunderstanding.”

Like the absolute menace that he is, all Seokjin does is shrug nonchalantly. “Suppose you are right… Who cares? It’s not like the two of you are strangers, so I’m sure this is going to go great!”

“What the fuck? She is a stranger! I’ve literally only spoken two words to her in the past four years!” Yoongi seethes, his temple throbbing from an oncoming migraine. 

Seokjin ignores him, as per his want. “Grab that plate, will you? I gotta plate the pasta before Y/N starts calling again to let her into the building,” he says, nudging the tongs into Yoongi’s hands. Yoongi squawks, quickly turning the stove off to keep the food from burning. 

Seokjin tears off his (read: Yoongi’s) apron off, wiping his hands on his jeans with a quick smile. “Great! While you finish up here, I’ll distract Y/N for a bit in my room before I lead her in here, alright? You better hurry unless you want to keep her waiting!”

“Oh, like how you kept her waiting downstairs for the past–” Yoongi checks his wall clock, “–seven minutes?”

Seokjin cackles madly, rushing out the door. “Well, that’s where you and I differ, Yoongi-chi! I give no shits about how Y/N thinks about me, so good luck!” After sending Yoongi three flying kisses for good measure, Seokjin slams the door shut, leaving Yoongi to simmer in his bad life choices.

The worst choice that he’s ever made? Being friends with one (1) Kim Seokjin.

“God, just end me,” Yoongi mutters, placing his $80 steak on his pan. It sizzles deliciously, much like how his (nonexistent) love life is about to get burnt to a crisp.

x x x x x

“Took you long enough.” You watch as Seokjin taunts you with a funny little dance by the lobby of his dormitory, the building receptionist not even batting an eye at his eccentricity. That’s the sad side effect of living in close proximity with Seokjin: you start getting desensitized to most things, not even flinching at the sight of a man without a functioning central nervous system.

Seokjin slides his card to open the door, finally allowing you entry. “Sorry. Got busy preparing your lunch! Which by the way, you should be thanking me for.”

“The moment I thank you for anything is the day that you slip on your own cum and die,” you grouse, nudging past him to get on the elevator first. You punch the button for the 5th floor before rapidly trying to close the elevator door on him. Unfortunately, Seokjin makes it in time before his ass gets clamped by the two steel doors.

“Thinking about my cum? Oh my, Y/N… I know you’ve had a dry spell for too long, but I didn’t think you’d be that desperate for some of my butter,” Seokjin says, leaning closely to wink at you.

Against your will, your cheeks brighten furiously, weakly pushing Seokjin away from you. “You wish. At least I don’t spend my spare time loitering outside the campus gym to ogle all the sweaty hot people.”

“And the invitation to join me still stands by the way!” Seokjin singsongs, leaping out of the elevator once you reach his floor. You walk side by side until you reach his room, but you catch him shooting a furtive glance at his next-door neighbor.

“Is Yoongi joining us for lunch?” you ask, failing to keep your curiosity from showing in your voice. If Yoongi does end up joining you for lunch (which has never happened in the past four years, convincing you that he must have a personal grudge against you), then at least it can confirm to you straight away that whatever this “date” is just another prank by Seokjin. You don’t know if you should be disappointed or grateful if it is just a joke.

Seokjin beams in response, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You know what? He is going to join us, actually!” 

He had been in the midst of unlocking his dorm when he changes direction, leading you to Yoongi’s door instead. He rifles through his other keys, and you notice one of them looks similar to his own house key, except with a Hello Kitty sticker on it. He pulls that key out and promptly unlocks Yoongi’s door without missing a beat.

What kind of weirdo must Yoongi be to give Seokjin a spare key to his dorm? You’d rather shit out a cactus than let Seokjin have free entry to your home whenever he pleases.

You hesitate by Yoongi’s door, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “Um, Seokjin? Are you sure it’s okay for me to–?”

“HONEY I’M HOOOOME!” Seokjin’s loud guffaw cuts you off before you can finish your question. He bursts through the door and leaves you by the hallway, and you watch as he nearly tackles Yoongi to the ground.

Yoongi, despite looking like he’s half the size of Seokjin on a good day, manages to keep upright despite how his back is now bent parallel to the floor. “Get off me!” he yells, roughly pushing Seokjin off of him. 

Seokjin tumbles to the floor, but the shit-eating grin on his face hardly wavers. He points at you by the doorway, a cheeky grin on his lips. “Look, Yoongi-chi! I brought a guest!”

Yoongi spares you half a glance before returning his attention to whatever he was cooking. “I suppose you did.”

Okay, this date is definitely a joke. Why the hell did you even think for a second that Seokjin might have been into you?

“Um,” you stutter nervously. You grind your heel into the carpet self-consciously, your gaze downcast. “Hello, Yoongi. Sorry for the intrusion, by the way…”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi replies, albeit a little curtly. He clears his throat, his face still tilted away from you so you can’t tell if he’s genuinely annoyed or not. 

You point a glare at Seokjin, who looks shamelessly pleased with himself. After taking a deep breath, you take your first steps into Yoongi’s home before gently closing the door.

As you look around at your new surroundings, you notice that his home is a lot cleaner than you would have expected, though you’re not exactly sure what you should have expected in the first place. It’s minimalist, but not in a barren type of way; it’s seems like Yoongi is fond of simple designs more than anything. It’s certainly a nice change of pace compared to Seokjin’s abomination of a room, with his vaguely yellow-stained bedsheets. 

The smell of freshly cooked pasta and meat being grilled catches your senses immediately. You watch as Yoongi flips over a hefty piece of steak, the aroma causing your mouth to salivate instantly. 

“I… What is… Huh?” you start, not knowing what to ask. You catch Seokjin snickering quietly to himself, but promptly shuts up when you mime punching him in the dick.

“It’ll be finished in a second. Why don’t you sit down?” Yoongi announces quietly, his gaze still fixed away from you. Confused but left with no other choice, you tentatively make your way to his couch, unable to relax as your spine remains ramrod straight and your jaw stays clenched. 

You hear Seokjin shuffling behind you until he eventually makes his way to sit with you, plopping onto the couch as if it were his home. “Ah… I’m soooo hungry. Smells good, doesn’t it?” he asks you, his brow wiggling too much to be considered normal. Either that, or he was having a stroke.

“Yeah, it does,” you say, greatly uncomfortable. You peek at Yoongi once more, who is still dutifully attending to the steak. Making sure he isn’t looking, you twist Seokjin by the nipple, causing the elder to let out a high-pitched squeal. To an outsider, it might have almost sounded like he was being pleasured. 

“Ouch! What the fuck was that for?” Seokjin whines, rubbing his tenderized nipples. 

“You know what that was for,” you hiss, keeping your volume low. “What the hell are we doing here? Why are you making Yoongi cook for us?!”

“For us? It’s for you!” Seokjin snaps back. “Didn’t you say you would only come over if you got fed? Well, this is how you get fed!”

“I was under the assumption that you would be feeding me, not him!” you seethe. You check back on Yoongi, who still hasn’t looked your way once. “The poor boy… No wonder he doesn’t like me! He must think I’m as bad as you!”

Seokjin snorts. “Of course he likes you! This whole lunch date wouldn’t have even fucking happened if he wasn’t assdeep in lo–”

“Lunch is finished,” Yoongi interrupts loudly, his spatula rattling loudly against his pan. The sudden noise makes you jump away from Seokjin, who appears vaguely triumphant. 

“T-thanks,” you stutter, standing up and resisting the random urge to shake his hand. Everything about this situation is so tense and awkward that it feels like you’re being filmed for a prank Youtube video or something. Knowing Seokjin, the odds of that happening are great. 

“That’s my cue to leave then! Bye! You guys have fun!” Seokjin says, jumping to his feet. 

You vaguely hear Yoongi gasp quietly when you launch yourself at Seokjin, just narrowly keeping from escaping. “Oh no, you don’t! Who said you could leave? You’re not going anywhere!”

But like the slippery snake that he is, Seokjin manages to wriggle out of your arms and hop over Yoongi’s coffee table to get to the door. “Too bad! I have classes to get to, so I gotta blast! Use this time to get to know each other or whatever it is that kids do these days,” he says, winking salaciously. With one final sputter of (evil) laughter, Seokjin makes his exit, leaving you and Yoongi to fester in some good ol’ fashioned discomforting silence.

“Um,” you say, just as Yoongi opens his mouth to say something too.

“No, you go first–”

“You go ahead–”

The two of you pause mid-sentence, staring at each other. You grin sheepishly at him, motioning for him to speak first. 

He returns your smile half-heartedly. “So, um… I just wanted to say I’m sorry for letting Seokjin rope you into this. I tried stopping him, but… You know how he is.”

You laugh, sounding a little crazed even to your own ears. That’s the longest sentence you’ve ever heard him speak! 

“Yeah, believe me… I am intimately aware of how he is. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t,” you joke. 

Amazingly, your little quip makes his smile widen, his cheeks puffing up imperceptibly. “Glad we can agree that Seokjin has the amazing ability to ruin people’s lives. It’s almost welcoming to find solidarity in a shared experience.”

“Shared experience? Try shared trauma. That dude is a walking serotonin sucker,” you say dryly. 

You don’t think what you said was remotely funny enough to warrant a laugh, but it causes Yoongi to let out a loud snort regardless. But the amusement on his face is short-lived, his cheeks going red in embarrassment. He slaps a hand to his mouth, breaking eye contact once more. “Oh fuck, that was so unflattering,” he groans, clearly mortified.

His blush, multiplied by his shy demeanor, makes you want to coo at him, but you doubt he’d take that too kindly. So instead, you change the subject to save him. “So, uhh… The food? You don’t have to give me any, by the way. I wouldn’t want you to waste your lunch on me or anything.”

Yoongi snaps out of his previous embarrassment, returning to the more familiar stoic expression you’ve come to associate with Yoongi. “No, that’s fine. Seokjin–er, rather… I made enough for two people, so it would be a waste if you didn’t eat at least some of it. But I don’t care either way if you want it or not.”

For two people? you wonder. So Yoongi had known Seokjin wasn’t going to join for lunch?

“Oh, if it’s fine with you…” you trail off, meekly making your way towards him. The spaghetti and steak look absolutely delicious, though you don’t need to tell him that when your stomach speaks for you. “Oh shit, that’s so embarrassing,” you say, your cheeks heating up this time.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head. “Haven’t eaten breakfast yet, I assume? That’s pretty stupid if you ask me. Don’t you have class until 5? How the hell would you have survived until then?”

You choke in surprise. Where did all that sass suddenly come from? “Excuse me? I’m not stupid! I would’ve been fine with a sandwich from the cafeteria if you must know!” you say indignantly. You’re too busy being offended that you don’t fully comprehend his words, failing to notice how he had known you had class until 5 in the first place.

“Sure, whatever you say.” Rolling his eyes, Yoongi starts shifting through his cupboards and pulling out a pink tupperware. He begins to load them with food, nearly overflowing the containers with how much he tries to stuff in them.

“H-hey! What are you doing?”

“Packing your lunch. You have class in a bit, yeah? It’s almost 11:50 and it takes around 15 minutes to get to the main campus. You won’t have time to eat here and make it in time,” he says, pointing you with a look. “Wait. Did you have coffee this morning?”

“Yeah? So?” you ask, defensive. “Are you gonna call me stupid again for not having caffeine or something?”

“No,” he grunts. “If you’re caffeinated, then that means it should only take you 7 minutes to get to class.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” you exclaim, but you can’t help letting out an incredulous laugh. “Wow. You’re kinda weird, did you know that?”

“You barely even know me, so how would you know?” he retorts. He finishes placing food into the tupperware and promptly clicks the lid in place. He offers it to you, smirking slightly.

You huff, but your ire is all for show. You aren’t actually annoyed by him–he’s just… different from what you expected. A little shy, a little rough around the edges… but you can tell he isn’t a bad guy. You understand why Seokjin loves to torment him; he seems like a fun person to tease. 

“That can be amended,” you respond, taking the tupperware from him. Your fingers graze the backs of his hand by accident, causing him to quickly retract his hand as though he’d been burned. You nearly drop the container in surprise, but luckily your reflexes save your precious food just in time. 

“Sorry. About… you know.” Yoongi gesticulates wildly, his gaze darting anywhere but at you. 

You smile secretly to yourself, amused. Ah. He’s like a human seesaw. Blushy one second and grumpy the next. “No worries, Yoongi. I’ll be sure to return this container soon, so don’t you worry.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Keep it if you want. I don’t care either way.”

Says the guy who has an entire cupboard full of color coordinating food containers. “Roger that, Yoongi.”

Yoongi walks you out the door, pausing outside the hallway with you. “Do you…” he hesitates, swallowing loudly enough for you to hear. “Do you… want me to walk you out?”

His sudden offer almost makes you want to laugh, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t find it amusing at all. Instead, you just shake your head with a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t get lost. I think I remember where the door is.”

He pouts, his lips jutting out cutely. “Yeah, well. I was just trying to be nice, but you do you.”

You giggle lightly, patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You were more than nice,” you say, winking for added effect. It does more than you thought it would, causing Yoongi’s cheeks to bloom once more.

With one last wave, you make your way out of the dormitory, your heart a little lighter than before. 

“Huh. That was weird.” You glance at the pink little tupperware in your hands, its warmth keeping your hands safe from the winter chill. As you walk to class, your thoughts are filled with nothing but a shy boy with soft hands and even softer cheeks. Maybe Tuesday isn’t going to be so bad after all.

[maddiwrites]

Secret Lives

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: You and JJ never got along so your friends trap the two of you on a boat in the middle of the marsh to work it out. Only it doesn’t go as planned.

Note: Hi guys! This is my first writing piece. I tried not to do a two parter for my first one but it ended up being so long. Sorry! I would love to hear your feedback so feel free to leave me a message! Part two will be posted soon. Also I have completed a rewrite of the show with a JJ x Routledge sister pairing so keep an eye out for that! Also wanna shout out @skiesofthesketchy​ @malfoyfarms​ @collecting-stories​ because they were some of the first masterlists I read and I loved them and it inspired me to write my own. So thank you!

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Language, angst, very slight mentions of abuse

Part 2

Y/N Y/L/N. That’s you. Or as some like to call you, Hannah Montana. You live the best of both worlds, living it up on Figure Eight and wearing hundred dollar dresses to fancy dinners and parties, sneaking expensive mimosas to brunches with your friends, and getting biweekly mani pedi’s with your sister. Meanwhile, when you’re not rolling around in the luxuries of Kook Life, you’re rolling around in the dirt with your Pogue friends, baking in the sun on a dirty small boat while drinking the cheapest beer one of the boys’ could get their hands on. Most Kooks hated you even when they wanted to be you. And most Pogues didn’t trust you even as they tried getting in your pants.

One of them being JJ Maybank.

Kiara introduced you to her group of friends right after freshman year. The two of you were the black sheep of Kook Academy. Both your families have money, sure. But you weren’t jerks about it. You enjoy a little pampering here and there, but you’re not tone deaf and superficial like the rest of your peers. You were so grateful that your science teacher paired you two together for that year’s science fair. You instantly clicked with the curly brunette and spent most of the class talking about whatever came to mind instead of actually brainstorming project ideas. After working together for months on a science fair project with a shared passion of wanting to help save the environment, Kie finally introduced you to her best friends.

John B and Pope immediately made you feel like one of the group. Sure, they were curious about your life but you never felt like you were being interrogated with questions. They included you on inside jokes and even gave you the nickname ‘Sassy’ after proving to them that you can hold your own in a verbal fight.

Thanks to JJ.

From the start he claimed to never like you. He hated where you were from, who your parents were, and that you never had a job. He hated that you didn’t even have to try to get people to like you. In his eyes, everything was handed to you on silver platter. You had a picture perfect life and all you had to do was bat your eyelashes and show off your pearly white teeth. He couldn’t stand you.

Yet, he was dangerously attracted to you.

He loved the way your hair shined against the setting sun, he loved that you didn’t wear makeup every single day like every other Kook on the island, he loved how your white jean shorts perfectly shaped your curves, and he loved how your temper was as equally as short as his because it made you fighting with him that much hotter.

Last night was no different than every other night with you and your friends. It was quiet, spent around a bonfire in John B’s back yard. You sipped on cheap beer from the can while the smell of JJ’s marijuana smoke wafted through the air. Kie lightly strummed the strings of her ukulele while Pope and JJ bickered about the pros and cons of smoking weed.

This was your family. You had friends on the other side of the island too but you weren’t as close as you were with the Pogues. You would do anything for the people surrounding you. Even JJ. You tried to tell yourself you hated him just as much as he hated you, but you couldn’t help but feel like every other girl on this island, falling for his ocean blue eyes and golden locks. His wit and his charm. His loyalty and protectiveness of his friends. How he looked with his shirt off. How he would wink at you when he caught you staring. You wished you didn’t, but you loved him.

“Hellooo, Y/N?” John B waved his hand in front of your face. You hadn’t even realized you’d been staring.

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

John B smirked but didn’t say what he was thinking. He always thought you and JJ were acting dumb when it was clear as day that the two of you were attracted to each other. He always caught you two staring at one another when the other wasn’t looking. You two would always ask about the other person when they weren’t there even if it was just to throw a sharp jab behind their back.

“I asked you what you were up to this weekend.”

“Oh,” You shrugged. “Probably run some errands, babysit my neighbor’s kids...”

Just like Hannah Montana, you also lived a secret life. Your life wasn’t as perfect as everyone thought it was, but you’d never admit to it. Your mother would be crushed, your friends would find you stupid and pathetic, and you would hate yourself even more than you already did.

“Good. Sunday we’re going to check out the surfing competition on Seasill Beach. JJ’s trying to qualify for it next year.”

Your smile immediately dropped. “Sunday. Oh.”

“Already got a spa day planned, Princess?” JJ smirked from across the way.

“I, uh,” You tried your best to fake a grin. “I’m sorry. I can’t go. I already have plans.”

You held you breath as you waited for someone to respond. This was the third time this month you flaked on your friends without a good explanation. You never knew what to tell them, only that you had plans. You were afraid if you said anything else, they’d find out you were lying.

“Again?” Kie stopped playing her ukulele to look at you. “Seriously. Is there some secret boy we should know about or something?”

You scoffed. “No.”

You felt the most guilty lying to Kie. After all she was your best friend. The one you were supposed to be able to share everything with, even the stuff you couldn’t tell your parents.

“Kie’s right. You bailed on us last week last minute too,” Pope said.

You opened your mouth to say something, but your head wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie.

“We all knew this day would come.” JJ’s smirk was gone. He flicked the butt of his joint into the fire and claps off the ash from his hands. “Hannah Montana dips her toes into the wild life. She feels free and independent long enough to decide she’d rather go back to her cookie cutter life and live with all the privilege that daddy has to offer.”

The word ‘daddy’ physically made you flinch. Your eyes narrowed in a tight glare as you dug your fingernails into the palm of your hand, hating that this was the way JJ thought of you.

“J...” John B tried to warn him but JJ didn’t listen.

“No, seriously.” JJ stood up. “I bet the reason she’s not telling us what all her ‘plans’ are is because she knows you’ll all be disappointed. Me? Well, I couldn’t care less whether you hung out with us or not. In fact, I’ve been praying for it. So tell us, Y/N, what are you doing that you won’t tell us? If it’s not some dude, then maybe you decided you’d rather be a Kook. Are you going to fancy lunches and riding yachts across the ocean? Maybe you’re spitting in the faces of the people who work to make your life easier. Maybe -”

“JJ!” Kie yelled.

You stood up, your vision turning red and your skin going hot. Usually you could take JJ’s insults. You were use to JJ throwing your family’s money in your face, trying to make you feel bad for something you can’t control, but this was too much. Because now he was calling you out on your loyalty to your friends. And he was so far from the truth.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” You said. The other three stood up when you took a step in JJ’s direction. John B stood close to you. He didn’t know what you were going to do, but he’s never heard your voice so low and threatening in a long time. The other time was with a Kook who was giving JJ shit. Ironically. “For me to just leave.”

“I didn’t stutter, did I?”

“Well I hate to break it to you, but I’m not going anywhere. In fact, because I’m such a nice friends, I’m going to give you some free advice. First, the last thing you want to question me about is my loyalty to the people who’s lives I would put before my own. Second, I would suggest removing that stick up your ass because it seems like your way too uptight to handle it.”

JJ glared at you and didn’t move to respond. A part of you was surprised he didn’t have anything to come back with and the other part of you was relieved.

The thick tension between you and your friends was suffocating. Your night had been effectively ruined by a simple question. But the sad part is, you didn’t even know who to blame. JJ, or the other man causing most of your guilt and grief.

“Y/N/N...” Kie tried stopping you as you gathered your stuff to leave.

“I’m out of here.”

You stormed out of the backyard and into your car. There was only so much you could take until you broke. And you were not going to give JJ Maybank the satisfaction of seeing you break.

                                            ***********************

You couldn’t fall asleep last night. JJ’s words kept replaying in your head like a bad song stuck on replay. You wanted to hate him. You wanted to blame him for not trusting you. But instead, you hated yourself. Because you’re the reason he can’t trust you. Cause you have secrets you don’t want shared.

Your thumb hovered over his contact. Not JJ’s. The man who’s made your life a living hell for the last sixteen years. You wanted to scream and cry and slap him in his face. But instead, you stayed frozen in fear. Like the little pathetic girl he says you are. And you hated yourself more for proving him right.

Your attention was taken away when someone busted through your bedroom door out of breath. Kie immediately went to your drawers and pulled out the first bathing suit she could find and threw it at you.

“Kie -”

“We need to go,” She said. “Get dressed.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Pope and John B ran out of gas doing grocery runs for Heyward. We need to get them with the HMS Pogue.”

“Where’s JJ? Why can’t he help you?”

“He’s working,” Kie said quickly. “Come on.”

                                           ***********************

You and Kie found Heyward’s boat stranded in the middle of the marsh like Kie said it would be. John B and Pope were waiting for you on the back and thanking you both for coming to help. You hold the gas as they helped you onto the boat. They directed you to the tank while they helped Kie.

As soon as you made your way to the front of the boat, you heard the engine of the Pogue rev and take off. You dropped the gasoline gallon and sprinted to the back of the boat where they left you. John B and Pope waved back to you as Kie drove them back to the Chataeu.

“What the hell?” You yelled at them to come back.

“You and JJ need to work your shit out!” John B yelled back to you.

“What...” You mumbled to yourself before you heard the sound of heavy footsteps running towards you. You gasp in surprise when a sweaty JJ passed you to glare at the boat that’s getting smaller and smaller by the second.

“What the fuck?” He screamed.

“There’s food and blankets in the cabin!” Pope yelled back.

“We’ll come get you in the morning,” Kie said.

You clenched your teeth together with frustration. JJ looked just as pissed off and small part of you was disappointed with that. He turned around, cursing to himself and hitting random shit in his way.

This was going to be a long day.

                                           ***********************

After four hours, you and JJ still hadn’t spoken to each other. He took over the cabin while you laid out on the back of the boat. Your head was running with different thoughts. Should you try to make up with JJ? Should you just continue to ignore him? Should you tell him why you can’t go to the surfing competition tomorrow?

You didn’t know what to do but you knew you couldn’t sit here in silence anymore.

You reluctantly stood in front of him with crossed arms. He was smoking a blunt and looking out into the setting sun. If you were friends, you would take a picture of him right now. The pink sky painted his skin perfectly.

“What?” He said without looking at you.

“Seriously?” You raised one brow. “We’re asked to do one thing on this boat and that’s all you have to say?”

“I’m not sorry for what I said last night.”

“Neither am I.”

“Fine.”

You rolled your eyes. The problem with both of you was that you’re both stubborn. But if the problem with JJ couldn’t be fixed today, you didn’t know how much longer you would be able to put up with his rude remarks and assumptions about you.

“What the hell is your problem?” You said.

“My problem?”

“Yeah. Your problem. You’ve been treating me like shit ever since Kie introduced me to you. What could I have possibly done to make you hate me so goddamn much?”

JJ shook his head in annoyance. “I’m not doing this.”

He got up and walked to the back of the boat where you were sulking not even five minutes ago. You followed him like the stubborn person you were and you continued to grill him.

“I’ve tried so hard to be your friend. I’ve bought you drugs, I’ve even done yours and JB’s laundry. I put in a good word to the tourons who ask about you at boneyard parties. I laugh at your jokes, even when they’re about my friends. I try so hard to be on your good side and you still want nothing to do with me!”

“Because you’re a Kook!”

“So?”

“You have everything. Money, family, friends, a future. I don’t trust you because I don’t know what the hell you want with us. What do we possibly have that you can’t get on Figure Eight? Hm? Are you trying to prove a point to your mom that you don’t need her? You trying to prove to your dad that you’re a tough girl and don’t need his money or protection to keep you safe? Huh?”

“You know what your problem is? You don’t listen! I’ve told you time and time again that I don’t care about any of those things. I hang out with you guys because you are my friends. I have a good time when I’m with you. Why is that so hard for you to get?”

JJ scoffed. “Please. You don’t think I see you constantly checking your cell phone? Making sure no one can see who you’re texting? If we’re such good friends, why won’t you tell us what you’re doing tomorrow? You always have ‘other plans’ and then you never tell us what they are.”

“Because that’s none of your business!”

“If my friends are going to get hurt because of some lying bitch then it is my business!”

You were breathing so heavily, you were basically panting. Your blood felt like it was boiling under your skin and your head felt fuzzy with lack of thoughts. You didn’t know what to say, truly lost for words.

JJ took another step closer to you. You’re so close to him, you can feel his breath on your face and see every mark on his skin. You never knew he had a scar right above his brow or a freckle under his ear. He smelled like weed and sun sunscreen and his breath like mint. Had you not been fired up with rage, you would have thought he looked hot and maybe even made a move.

But now it was the last thing you wanted to do.

“I’m sick and tired of you spoiled brats getting everything you want. You’re nothing but a spoiled rich kid who doesn’t even know the kind of privilege she has if it hit her in the face. You can’t relate to anything we have to go through. You don’t have to get dirt underneath your fingernails to make a buck. You don’t have to wonder where your next meal is coming from. You wouldn’t last a week on the Cut because you’ve never known what it’s been like to live the life we do!”

“You don’t know anything about me!” You snapped. The heart in your chest felt like it was being shredded to pieces by a rapid wolf. You felt like you were being torn apart one by one with each insult he threw in your face. Little did he know, he was wrong.

“I know enough to never want to see you again. I will never accept you into our group of friends. Don’t you get that? So you can stop playing the nice girl act around me and go back to Sarah Cameron and the other Kooks that you still hang out with despite knowing everything they’ve done to us. To Kie!”

Bringing up the fight between Kie and Sarah was a low blow and JJ knew it. It was something you always struggled with because you continued to be friends with both of them separately. At first, they were both mad at you but then accepted your friendship when they came around to loving the idea that you would fight for both of them. You tried getting them to talk and make up, but both of them refused. Maybe you should just stick them on a boat in the middle of nowhere and force them to work it out.

Although, clearly your experience with it wasn’t going so well.

“That’s not fair.”

“Yeah, well life’s not fair sweet heart. But you wouldn’t know about that.”

You thought the fight last night was bad. But this one took the icing off the cake. You wished so desperately that Kie had just trapped you both in a locked room, so at least you had the chance to break out and run away from the darkness that was clouding around you.

You were most upset that this was how JJ thought of you. You didn’t know if you would have the same devastating reaction if someone else had said these things to you. You wanted so badly to be friends with the blonde Pogue. You saw the way he interacted with his friends and you wanted to be a part of that small circle so badly, you would almost do anything to be in it.

But you didn’t think you could last another second of being belittled and tormented with JJ’s outspoken feelings towards you. You wished there was a rewind button so you could go back to bed and hopefully never wake up and you’d lock your door so Kie couldn’t break in.

You swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall and admit your defeat. You wanted to find the nearest corner and crawl into it and escape the murderous glare of JJ Maybank. JJ was wrong. You didn’t have everything. Because in this moment, you still wanted him. And you were just realizing that you never will.

“You judge me by the surface. You’ve never once tried to get to know me. You don’t ask. You just assume that I’m like every other kid on Figure Eight. You don’t know where I’ve came from. What I’ve been through. What I live with. You don’t know my plans for the future or my hobbies or even my favorite color because you didn’t ask!” Adrenaline pushes through your veins like a wave of energy. You’ve never felt so powerful but so small in your life.

“All right. So tell me,” JJ said. “Tell me whatever story you can think of that will change my mind about you.”

You paused, standing there face to face with someone who will never accept you. You were suddenly overcome with so many emotions you didn’t know which one to choose from. Anger, sorrow, fear, confusion, shame.

You couldn’t believe you even thought about telling JJ your story. A story that you haven’t even told Kie. The story about how you were actually born and raised on the far end of the south side. How your dad use to abuse your mother right in front of you before she managed to escape when you were eight. For six months you lived in her car before she got a job as a housekeeper at a cheap motel used mostly for hookers and their cliental. Her employer let you live rent free if your mom accepted a cheaper pay check. During one of her shifts, your mother ran right into Andrew Y/L/N. No, he wasn’t one of the hooker’s clients. He was actually on the property looking to buy out the place. Even though he was a Kook, he looked through the housekeeper’s uniform into my mom’s heart and loved everything about her. He took her on a couple dates, then less than a year later, married her. You changed your last name to his because you didn’t want any relation to your father anymore. You thought the man was scum and deserved to rot in hell for everything he put your mom through. You hated him and even wished for him to die. Sometimes you even thought about doing it yourself. But then you saw him again. At a gas station in the middle of The Cut. You couldn’t believe he recognized you and you were even more shocked he had the audacity to talk to you. And you listened. He told you how sorry he was. How he never meant to hurt your mom. How he missed his baby girl and wanted to be in her life again. You fell for every word because a part of you you didn’t know existed missed having a biological dad.

That was your biggest mistake.

He didn’t change. He was still the same bastard he was eight years ago, using violence and threats with people much weaker than him to get what he wanted. He loved guilting you with your new luxuries. How you now had everything right under your fingertips after you left him to wither away with nothing. He said you owed him. Because you were his daughter and you were supposed to love him unconditionally. And you fell for it every time. He never hurt you like he hurt your mom. A few slaps here and there but nothing to leave a mark to get your mother questioning.

So now you were trapped - trapped in his world and in his life. Using your own money that you actually worked for, little did JJ know, to pay for his bills, his drugs, and sometimes, even his bail.

You didn’t tell anyone about this secret life because you didn’t want anyone to make you feel any more pathetic and weak than you already felt. And most importantly, you didn’t want to hurt your mother by telling her you’ve been supporting the one person she’s been trying to protect you from.

And you were about to risk that by telling someone who probably still wouldn’t care about you even after hearing what you had to say. You are who you are. If JJ didn’t like you now, he shouldn’t like you after telling him your story, anyway.

“No.” You shook your head.

“No?” JJ scoffed. “I’m finally asking you tell me something and you’re saying no?”

“Because you don’t care, JJ! Not really. You think knowing my sob story is going to get you to like me? I don’t need a pity friendship. I am who I am because of shit I’ve had to overcome. And this is me now. So if you don’t like it, then fine. We’ll do it your way and call it quits.” JJ didn’t say anything as you turned around to find somewhere to pass out in hopes of getting morning to come faster.

You found a blanket deep into the cabin and pulled it over your body, shielding yourself away from the world. You hoped the darkness would sweep through your head so you wouldn’t be plagued with torturous thoughts about your past or what’s going to happen to tomorrow. You cried - you cried because even after JJ ripped into your like a zoo animal, he still hated you.

JJ was wrong. You didn’t have everything. Because you didn’t have him.

                                           ***********************

Surprisingly, the sun rose sooner than you expected it to. Sleeping on the swaying boat wasn’t as awful as you thought it was going to be. In fact, it was kind of peaceful with the stars above you and the sound of moving water right under you.

The morning wasn’t so calming. You were slapped in the face with memories of the night before. Your stomach twisted at the thought of being face to face with JJ again. You knew what you had to do and thinking about it made you sick and depressed.

You pushed yourself up and checked the time on the radio. 8:03. Anxiety instantly flooded through you. You only had two hours to get home to be ready in time to run ‘errands’ with your dad.

You looked out to the back of the boat where JJ was looking into the horizon, probably waiting for your friends to come.

Fresh set of tears pricked your eyes at what’s to come. You loved your friends and you even loved JJ. But you couldn’t stay with the Pogues. You didn’t want to make JJ any more uncomfortable than he already was and you were afraid the constant fighting would push your friends further apart. You didn’t want to be the reason for that.

You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders and walked next to JJ. Without a word, you looked out in the same direction he was looking and admired the morning sun.

Surprisingly, JJ was the first one to speak. He looked at you and instantly felt guilty all over again. He tossed and turned all night contemplating on whether he should wake you up to apologize or just wait until morning. He knew he wasn’t being fair. You’ve done nothing but tried to earn his trust since day one. You accepted him for all his flaws and he couldn’t do the same for you. Yeah there was the phone thing and not telling the others what you’re up to, but it wasn’t like you were constantly in his business. If you see him with unexplained bruises, you don’t pester him about it. If he comes back to the Chateau in a pissy mood and blames it on a fight with his dad, you try to make him forget about it with a distraction instead of making him tell you what the fight was about. Why couldn’t he give you the same respect?

Truth was he wasn’t so much worried about his friends getting hurt as he was getting hurt. He liked you more than a friend should which would make your departure from your friends that much more heartbreaking for him. He never felt this way over a girl, let a lone a Kook and he tried so desperately to hate you. But it didn’t work. Instead, it made him feel like the biggest asshole in the world. He wanted to fix what he broke. He told himself he still had time left. His friends weren’t back yet to get him.

“Listen, Y/N -”

“It’s fine, J,” You sniffled. This time you couldn’t stop the tears from running down your cheeks. You tried blinking them away which only made them fall faster. You hated crying in front of people. Your dad always said it was a sign of weakness and you believed him. You wouldn’t be surprised if JJ laughed in your face right now and called you a loser. “It’s done.”

“What are you talking about?”

JJ’s heart physically broke when he saw your tears. He had never seen you cry. Not even out of joy. He couldn’t believe he was the cause of this. That he had made someone as beautiful and as kind as you actually feel bad about herself. He wished he could take back time and start over. He wished he gave her a chance from the beginning. He wished it wasn’t too late.

You both looked up when you heard the engine of the HMS Pogue. In the distance, you could hear your friends laughing and calling out to you, not yet realizing their plan went to shit. You had to make this quick.

“The last thing I want is to get between you and your friends. You don’t have to worry about me hurting anyone, especially Kie. I’ll back off.” You said, making JJ’s brows furrowed in confusion and his heart raced with worry. “I’m giving you what you want. I’ll stay out of your life.”

JJ couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe he drove you to do the one thing he actually never wanted you to do. “Wait. You’re leaving?”

You looked JJ in the eyes and he wished you didn’t. Because for the first time, he didn’t see the light behind your eyes or the little crinkle in the corner when you smiled. They were dull and lifeless, making him sick to his stomach.

“I didn’t stutter. Did I?” You used his words from the other night and it felt like a stab in the heart to JJ.

JJ was left speechless which almost never happens. He wished he could say something, anything, to make you feel differently, to tell you he was wrong and sorry. But nothing came out. He could barely breathe.

“Hey you crazy kids,” Kie’s voice pierces the air, jokingly and airy. If only she knew that wasn’t how you were feeling.

“Missing a key or something?” John B joked alongside her.

“You should have called us sooner!” Pope added.

When the boat came closer to yours, they finally got a look at the two of you. They were shocked to see you silently crying and looking like all the life had been sucked out of you. JJ looked mad but they couldn’t tell whether he was mad at you or them or himself.

The three of them went sick with anxiety, suddenly wondering if this was a bad idea. Kie tried to get you make eye contact, but you wouldn’t look at her. You couldn’t look at any of them - afraid you might actually break completely if you did.

“Y/N/N...” Kie said softly.

“You guys okay?” John B asked wearily.

JJ helped Pope tie The Pogue to Heyward’s boat and hopped on right after. Pope traded spots with JJ and came up beside you and stood there awkwardly. He didn’t know what to do either.

You looked up at him before he could come up something probably stupid to ask. “Can you drop me off please?”

Pope glanced back at his friends and nodded. “Uh, sure. John B will probably get you there faster though if you -”

“No, it’s okay,” You said. You didn’t think you’d be able to handle being in an enclosed space with JJ for another minute. You just wanted to go home and forget the past two years ever happened. “I’ll stay here.”

Pope shrugged at his friends when you trudged back into the cabin and curled yourself into the corner. You didn’t know what the next few weeks would be like, but you hoped they go better than the last twenty four hours did.

[marigoldwitch]

Let’s Talk About Elitism in the Witchcraft Community

It always seems to come back to this but I want to talk about witches in the community who give confusing, and often times misguided, advice to new comers in an attempt to separate themselves from the “soft” or “baby” practitioners.

I’m on witchtok (a community on an app called TikTok, in case you were unaware of what I’m talking about) alot and there’s something I noticed about the witches there; something I’m sure alot of you have noticed too. There’s 2 major groups of witches on the app. The ones who post “easy” and “simple” spells and information, and the ones who post up reactionary spells and information.

There seems to be this need for witches who feel better than or more educated (in their opinion) to posts videos in response to or in direct opposition of other witches. Usually these other witches are seen as newbies to the craft. And if they aren’t new (as in they’ve been practicing for a while) they’re considered uneducated or unwilling to learn.

The “why aren’t witches reading books anymore?” and “I think it’s them being more worried about aesthetics than actually learning.” comments are frustrating and reveals a huge disconnect and sense of privilege within our community. I’ve also seen comments / videos specifically criticizing the popularity of spell jars in recent years. The funniest thing though is that a lot of them are suggesting doing charm bags instead... as if that’s not just another form of a spell jar.. except it’s in a bag... not a jar :/ They want so badly to be “other” and “better” that they’re actually giving advice that’s basically saying “hey instead of using X container to hold your spell, have you tried using Y container instead?? If you read books and not just get your info from Tik Tok blah blah blah.” As if they’ve suggested something grand or much different than what someone is already doing.

Let’s Talk Privilege 

First lets be clear that privilege doesn’t mean you haven’t had “hard times” in your life. And being privileged in one way doesn’t make you privilege in every aspect. You can have class privilege while also experiencing hardship in relation to another aspect of your life. I am white, I have white privilege. I’m also a poor high school drop out. Which means I don’t have class privilege. It’s important that I make this clear because I know some people are gonna identify in someway with one or more of the under privileged groups that I’ll be talking about and that’s normal. That doesn’t mean that you can’t also identify in someway with one or more of the privileged groups that I’ll be talking about. 

Why don’t you just read more books? / Why don’t you just experiment with more tools, supplies and options like crystals, candles, herbs, tarot etc? / Why don’t you just invest in better tools and supplies? 

This falls under class privilege. Not everyone can afford to spend money on these things. “Well the library is free” not everyone can afford to spend time on these things. And I know, to someone who has the money and has the time, these sound like excuses to just not work “hard enough” (which we’ll get into why this statement is ablest in a minute) but it’s legit the reality for a lot of people. Let’s also remember that public libraries in underfunded poorer communities are.. well under funded and don’t offer the same selection that a well funded library would. Also the cost of going to and from that library (or a much better one with a better selection). Personally, I live in what is known as the bible belt and my local (underfunded) library has 5 books on witchcraft. 3 are reference books and can not actually be checked out. The other 2 require a 10 dollar deposit to check out. I kid you not. You have to pay to check out those books.

I saw a comment that said “crystal grids and crystal magic is very beginner friendly and easy, why don’t more witches do this?” And I want to shake them and scream “crystals cost money you doodoo head!!” LOL.

Supplies and tools are expensive. Yes, there’s plenty of information online about how to use what you have on hand... and those same witches sharing cheap and easy alternatives to supplies and tools are also sharing cheap and easy alternatives to spells and rituals. Hence how spell jars became so popular.

“They just don’t want to put in the effort” / “They aren’t working hard enough” / “They’re just in it for the aesthetics”

This falls under ableism. 1. Expecting other witches to match your energy and effort is hella ablest and you should stop. Not only is it unrealistic to assume we’re all on the same page, it’s unhealthy to project your own expectations on to {most likely} complete strangers just because you share one interest [witchcraft] with them. 2. Some people are visual practitioners (whether they’re ND or not) and so they need to and work better with seeing what they’re doing. It’s obvious that the type of witchcraft lots of ND people use is the type that is overly criticized in our community. (ND = Neurodivergent)

Physical disability is also something to keep in mind. Not everyone is physical able to do all the things you can do. Personally I experience hand tremors. Basically using an herb bundle to do a smoke cleansing is a huge ass mess for me and is more headache than it’s worth. So I opt out of smoking cleansing that way. It doesn’t mean that I’m not trying hard enough or that I’m not putting in the effort to make it work... it means I have a disability that makes it more difficult and I’ve found other ways to do these cleanses.

Also, witches are allowed to like pretty things. Like pretty things and valuing the beauty in your practice is all perfectly fine. There’s nothing wrong with wanting your space, yourself or your practice to look “pretty.” 

I Need To Mention Cultural Awareness

Another reason something might not make sense to you is because it isn’t for you, literally it has nothing to do with you or your practice and so you’ve chosen to put it down rather than mind your business. That’s really all I can say about this as I practice a fairly common form of folk magic and the practice, as well as the culture in which it’s derived from is open. So there’s nothing I do that’s really considered for specific cultures only. I’d rather someone else with more experience talk about this in more detail. 

Misguided Information and Superiority Complex 

When sharing information and experiences it’s probably better to do so without needing it to be in reaction to someone else’s information and experiences. I don’t think there is anything wrong with sharing other forms of magic or witchcraft. I think most of us want as much information to be as easily accessible for as many people as possible. The issue comes from only sharing this information and experience because you think the oppositions is/are wrong. Not because you want the help people learn. And actively putting down certain information because it was shared via social media, while also insisting that your information is the actual correct information.. while also sharing it on the same social media platform.

“Don’t believe everything you see on the internet.... except me. You can believe me.” Is what it feels like. And I think what gets to me the most is the amount of UPG that is sprinkled into a lot of the information that these “I know better” witches share. Thinking you know better or know more because you’ve been doing it longer or doing it different, doesn’t actually mean you do. 

I’ve said this before: No one is sharing their entire practice online

“Why are you only doing spell jars?” why do you assume that the only time they practice witchcraft is for a video / photo that they post online? 

Better yet, why are you demanding they share more than they’re comfortable with sharing? Why do you feel entitled to know everything about their practice? 

Just because a witch’s Tik Tok, Instagram, Tumblr etc is only filled with pretty spell jars and aesthetic photos of teas, doesn’t mean that’s their entire practice. That’s the part they’re willing to share with the world. And even if it was their entire practice, why do you care? Why is it your business? When did they ask you to tell them what you thought of their practice?

In conclusion

Before you make that post or make that video about how X witches aren’t doing Y thing right because I did it Z way, remember we’re all different. Times change. And something being popular doesn’t mean it’s not effective or useful. Something being mainstream doesn’t make it bad or stupid. And witchcraft becoming more and more modernized doesn’t mean it’s losing it’s roots or that the next generation of witches are gonna be “sissy babies with nothing but a bunch of pretty jars.” and even if they are, it’s non of your business.

[spiltscribbles]

Im so excited!!!! Here’s a little “It’s always been you. You and only you.” sprinkled in with Green-Eyed Epiphany

~Notes: OMFG bubby!!!! You are so beyond adorable! Thank you So SO much for the sweetness!! I really hope you like this XS and fingers crossed  this fits the promptXS <3 <3 <3

.-

Prompt Smash Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜   |  A Reblog Is Like A Huge, Warm Hug!!!

.-

~R: my mom’s working the night shift at the clinic👀👀

~S: Kinky😏

~S: I can be there in 15

~R: make it 20 and get Chinese x

~S: sometimes I think ur j using me for the food

~R: and bring henny😈

.-

It’s seventeen minutes since Remus sent the last text when the front door of his modest ranch house begins to thump with a familiar wrapping that’s three quick knocks followed by two slower ones, and he has to wrestle down the eager grin from his face when he swings it open to find one of his closest friends standing at the threshold in that customary  weathered, leather jacket that he found two summers ago when Remus had taken him thrifting for the first time, and an impish sort of smirk that definitely would look ridiculous on anyone else, but only makes Sirius all the more maddeningly attractive. 

“What took so long?” Remus asks mildly, pulling him indoors by the sleeve and gesturing for him to set the goods on the kitchen counter once they cross the small foyer.

“You wound me, Lupin.” Sirius retorts, quick-silver eyes flashing before he pins him against the island and puts his hands on either side of his waistline with more gentleness than Remus would’ve expected before they began this whole sorted affair— Okay, maybe that’s the wrong word for it?

It’s not an affair, or tryst, or carrying on or whatever the fuck else Lily says when she’s teetering on the wrong edge of tipsy and thinks it’s her right to call Remus out on his bullshit— on his stupid, beyond obvious crush he’s been fostering for one of his closest friends since junior high.

It’s none of those things— It’s not nearly as dramatic.

It’s just— Just that yes, Remus has been harboring a tiny infatuation  for Sirius ever since that first day of the seventh grade  when he had moved to this tiny, coastal town after his parents divorce. But how could he have not? Sirius is hilarious, and a genius, and so gorgeous that sometimes it feels like his insides are twisting up whenever he glances over at him. And on that first day, he had just caught Remus’s eyes from across the library shelves before classes begun, and smiled in that uniquely electric way of his, and asked if Remus could put slime in a very specific locker, (Snape’s), for a very specific reason, (Because he kept following Lily around like a creep), on account to no one suspecting the new kid. And yeah— Remus was lost on him an embarrassing amount from then on. 

Sure, it can be regarded as kinda pathetic on Remus’s end— kindling this nest of emotions so close to the chest— but also it’s not as if he’s been lovestruck by his crush, like it’s some sort of waterlogged scarf he’s got dragging him down. His attraction towards Sirius is like a soft melody that’s swelling in the backdrop of all their interactions, nothing overwhelming— not a flood plane, not yet at least. It’s warm, and it’s familiar, and it’s persistent like a flutter of a humming bird’s wings.  And Remus doesn’t mind pining over someone as fantastical as Sirius Fucking Black.

Graciously, in some strike of incredible luck, Sirius never caught on to Remus’s silly feelings, not until that night when they were watching an old movie in Remus’s basement while James and Lily were celebrating an entire year together— save for all their sudden stops and just as speedy starts— and Peter was visiting his grandmother in Tampa Bay. It was the first time they had been alone together since Remus broke up with Caradoc for the final time, and Sirius just looked so fucking good in that casual, white v-neck and his skinny jeans that make him look like some echo of James Dean on his best day. And Remus isn’t sure who exactly moved forwards first, or how the fuck Meg Ryan wandering the Seattle streets was some sort of aphrodisiac, or why Sirius— who could have any guy he would ever want— was actually humoring him, but one second they’re lying down on the sofa— Remus caged between Sirius’s expanse and the cushions behind them— and the next he’s tasting PBR on Sirius’s lips, and has got a fist full of his dark hair, and is thrilling at the feeling of Sirius’s thigh between his legs. And yeah— it just happened like those sort of things are want to do, and by the end of it they were sticky and breathless and diffident in ways they never been around one another, in ways Remus reckons Sirius has never been around anyone.

But the next weekend, when Sirius’s latest sorta— but not really— boyfriend had canceled on their dinner plans, Sirius wandered over to Remus’s bedroom window and it was another tumbling of frenzied hands and loosen buckles and thrusting hips. And then it just became an easy release— a sort of poetry, an understanding in all but name.

And that’s fine. They don’t have to talk about it. Remus knows that Sirius isn’t the type to settle down with a partner, to go bowling for a date, or texting countless messages that amount to nothing at all at the end of the conversation, or putting up with another dude’s parents taking photos of them before leaving to prom or homecoming or whatever the fuck else. And Remus is sorta sick of the idea of love, of trying so hard only to end up heartbroken and eating a gallon of Chubby Bunny in his favorite sweats and cursing John Hughes for pretending Hollywood romances can happen to ordinary high schoolers. 

So yeah— This thing they’ve fallen into with each other is good. They’re friends— best friends— and they have fun and they’re apparently really fucking good in bed together, and Sirius never looks at Remus with pity when he spots him gazing at his profile absentmindedly, and he doesn’t mind when Remus traces invisible designs against his skin when they’re soaking in the after glow, and he never treats him  any different. Sirius still slings his arm around Remus’s shoulders when they walk down the halls, and he still buys him his favorite chocolates when he feels poorly, and he still faces Dorcas's disapproving wrath when he drags Remus out of the library to have a little mischief— whether it’s smoking a blunt in the abandoned skatepark in town or playing some stupid prank on those assholes in their year. 

For all intent and purposes, they still behave the same they’ve always acted around one another, but just with the miraculous addition of mind-blowing and dulcetly ductile sex.

This is good, this is fun, this is completely untethered from the bull shit of romance.

And if Remus mouths against the juncture of Sirius’s neck a little too intensely— trying to pry off the memory of the hickey Sirius had been sporting after spending the weekend with Gideon Prewett— Well no one has to be any the wiser, and by the sound of Sirius’s hitched breaths, he seems not to mind even slightly.

“Except my apology?” Remus asks, more coy than he ordinarily acts as he drops his arms around Sirius’s neck, and leans on the balls of his feet to whisper against his temple.

“Oh, you’re such a bastard,” Sirius retorts, labored as all get out, kneading his fingers into Remus’s ass that’s only covered by the thin layer of his plaid pajama bottoms. “You are going to have to do a lot more for me to forgive the lip.”

Remus laughs in a stammering sort of way as Sirius tugs him along, walking backwards to his room that he’s become incredibly intimate with since the first time they did this three months ago. 

“Sirius, the spring rolls— they’re gross if we have to heat them up again.”

“I’ll postmate us knew ones,” Sirius insists, covering Remus’s mouth with his own with fervor. “C’mon babe, do not tease me like this.”

Sirius must’ve caught his mistake, because he suddenly goes as red as Remus feels— The pet name was to close for comfort considering their strictly friends with benefits nature, but Remus is already half hard, and he really does not want to end this, so with a sly wink, he returns to nipping at Sirius’s jawline, rutting against him in a very unambiguous way. “Fine, if you really don’t think you’ll need the nourishment for your stamina?”

The words have their intended effect, and Sirius makes a small growl deep in his throat before practically tearing off Remus’s shirt, and dipping beneath the waistline of his pants, scooping him up and racing to the bed.

And they get lost in one another beneath the pale glow of Remus’s lamplight and the moon spilling through the window, relearning each others every patch of skin for minutes on end that wax and wane like the delta of ocean waves, unspooling into something tangible and tantalizing with every kiss punctuated with teeth that Sirius trails across Remus’s collarbone, and the way Remus palms greedy hands up and down Sirius’s back until he gets the hint and undresses.

“Well come on, you’re not an invalid, Lupin.” Sirius jeers and Remus chuckles as he follows suit until they’re both finally, blessedly nude. And with an easy assurance of them having done this more than a dozen times now, Remus crawls into his lap and kisses him straight on the mouth, preening how Sirius moans against him— canting up wantonly and grabbing at his hips with a sort of intensity that will probably leave bruises in the shape of the pads of his fingers, and Remus absolutely adores the idea of that, feels something hot and needy and desperate unfurl in his gut as he presses their mouths more forcefully together, going buzzed when he gets to relish in the sensation of their tongues running against one another, and the taste of the ridges on the roof of Sirius’s mouth, and the slide of the soft skin of his inner cheek— gasping when Sirius pulls away abruptly, panting an almost reverent, “Mother of God, Remus,” and tackles him flat on his back before they commence, with the addition of both their hard,  leaking cocks thrusting against one another and Sirius’s hand in Remus’s hair pulling that bit more forcefully while his other one roams the dips and planes of his side— skirting against the divots of his stomach muscle before he wraps it around the pair of them and begins to pull in earnest, to the rhythm that Remus swears was strung from the heavens above.

“Oh— Oh, yeah— Sirius,” Remus breathes out in a haggard sort of way, words that he refuses to ever call a mewl even if they’re stretched out and crackle with emotion.

“Yes—, just say that again,” Sirius practically demands, his mouth completely covering his ear in a wet, hot heat— his teeth scraping against the soft shell. “Remus, baby, just say my name, tell me you want it.”

And God, Remus is feeling so heady— like he’s floating and he couldn’t possibly come back down— that he probably would’ve listened to anything Sirius asked of him, especially if he does that thing again, when he squeezes the slick length of them with a tad more force than they usually play at. “Sirius, Sirius. Sirius, please, I’m close,” Remus shrills in an unsteady staccato— his normally smooth tenner going pitchy and pleading, and he can feel his toes curling, can feel the eminent release coming— What he does not expect is to feel something poking at his entrance, didn’t expect to be struck dumb by the sensation of the tip of Sirius’s large, dry finger poking right there, right against the fluttering hole, while he’s still pumping them in tandem, and the second it hooks inside Remus goes a startling sort of static , sees blasts of white blotching his vision and his head thrown back and his dick spirting out heavily against Sirius’s deliciously defined torso.

And he’s just breathing heavily now, during the come down, can barely make out anything  through the heavy weight around him, the one  cushioning his head— but he does graciously feel Sirius’s cock fucking into his own hand against Remus’s thigh and then idly the feeling of his come splattering him, but then after that he can just barely hear the distant padding of feed against floorboards, followed by a wet washcloth being dabbed against his skin. So when he finally forces himself to focus, he sees Sirius cleaning himself off, wrapping it into the pair of joggers Remus was wearing earlier and tosses it to the corner of the room. 

“Rude,” he scolds with no heat, shuffling closer to him when Sirius lies down besides him once more and circles an arm around his torso.

“THat’s what you get when you’re acting like a lazy fuck,” Sirius counters, smug as all get out while he threads a hand in Remus’s hair.

“Hmm, didn’t see that in the papers recently. Is it a new law?”

“Yeah, actually just past on the senate floor.”

“Interesting… Well considering that only one of us has a senator for a father, I really have to ask to see the power-point you shared with him to get this bill through the stalemate,” Remus’s head bounces against Sirius’s chest from the force of his laughter at the barb.

“Oh, stuff it, Lupin.”

Hiding his smile into Sirius’s skin, Remus does as told, and they both just lie there, as if everything’s gone suspended just for the pair of them, just so Remus can count out the beats of Sirius’s heart pulsing against his sternum, and can feel the way their legs tie into one another, and can feel Sirius mouthing against his temple, blowing his curls with every exhale. 

And Remus thinks that he’d do anything to remember this exact moment for every single day from here on out.

But then the quiet is abruptly and permanently punctured by the sound of his phone chirping, and he has to breathe in deeply before separating from the warmth of Sirius, and fishes down for the device that’s still crammed into the side of his bed from where he had hidden it after that initial text.

“Is Dearborn still on your ass to try again?” Sirius asks, a bit stilted.

Remus wonders if he’s just imagining the tension twisted in the question, but reasons that Sirius’s never been Caradoc’s biggest fan, so he just shrugs it off— really doesn’t want to get into some stupid argument about his asshole of an ex when he’s still feeling so content. “Nah, ’s James. Still trying to force me to go to the homecoming dance with you guys.”

“Oh,” Sirius retorts, lips pinched while watching Remus redress. “You should go, Marls is pregaming and you know she always gets the good shit.”

Remus shakes his head while puttering over to find a new pair of sweats and a sweater. “Nah, just not feeling it this year— Erm, you’re taking Gid I assume.” He’s not sure why he asks it, supposes he’s always a glutton for some pain and shitty feelings to inspire his playlists habit, but also maybe it’s him trying to sober himself. Trying to remember that despite this— despite everything they just did and  how easy it’s always been for them to fall into step with one another— Remus isn’t good enough to be seen with Sirius in the light of day. He’s probably not handsome enough or cool enough or something else that makes Sirius absolutely revolted from the thought. Probably that he’s beyond bookish, and looks painfully virginal and isn’t nearly as sly or snarky as his other conquests.

Truly, Remus should just be thankful that Sirius wants this at all, he shouldn’t be so crazed over the why nots of the situation— it’ll only kill him trying to be something he never could actually affect with any credence.

Schooling his features to something passably indifferent, Remus pivots to face him again, is startled when he finds Sirius still naked and staring at him with a burning sort of intensity in his storm cloud eyes. 

“He hasn’t said anything, but I guess he’s assuming as much,” he finally says, running a hand through his overgrown fringe, that familiar twitch of the corner of his mouth grabbing Remus’s attention. The one that tells him Sirius is actually irritated about something he’s not letting himself say out loud. 

“Erm, good? Gid’s a decent guy.” Remus mutters, head ducked once it gets to a point that he can’t stand Sirius looking at him like that— Not after how blissed out and ferocious he had been groping every inch of Remus only moments ago. “You guys are nice together.”

And it’s like the breath before the worst of storms when his words collapse between them, making the pregnant silence go suddenly suffocating.

“Right,” Sirius intones once Remus levels their gazes, hurriedly standing and collecting his own clothes, fracturing the moment completely. “Right. Whatever, yeah. I’ll go to the fucking dance with fucking Gideon Prewett. That’s good.”

“Sir—“

“No, it’s fine. You can just stay home, and mourn over that douchebag Dearborn some more, even though you ending it with that dick was the best decision you could’ve made, Remus, and I’m not even saying it just because I’m petty. He is a prick, and you need to finally get a clue how much better you deserve, damn it!”

Remus’s head feels like it’s swimming. Why is Sirius so angry all of a sudden? Does he not like Gideon? Why can’t he just cut it off like so many times before? And why the hell is he petty over Caradoc? The entire situation feels like someone’s just handed him a wedge of Swiss cheese and told him to knit it back together. 

“What is up your ass?” He decides is an appropriate enough question for his floundering, and shutters back only slightly at how fuming Sirius looks when he rounds on him— clothes disheveled and fearsome glower heavy on his face. 

“Whatever Remus, if you can’t see that Dearborn is bad news—“

“I’m not pining for Dearborn,” Remus interjects, really doesn’t feel like listening to one of Sirius’s ridiculous diatribes about him, not now. Not when he’s still so bewildered by everything else. “Why would you think that?”

The fire in Sirius’s eyes vanishes as quickly as someone blowing on a candle, and it’s his turn to gawk, gaping at Remus, shoulders dragged down and eyes wide. “Wait— You’re not?”

“No…. I haven’t even thought about him for weeks.”

“Oh.” Sirius looks contemplative for a moment, before the righteous anger that only he could ever wear with such conviction, melts over him once more. “All right, then what the fuck is this?”

Remus stiffens, feels his veins lace with ice, an his breath catch somewhere in his throat, really does not think he’s ready for this conversation. “This?” 

“Yes, Remus, this!” Sirius demands, sounding harsh in comparison to the barely croak Remus had spoken with. “Listen I don’t care if you want me to wait some more, if you need to lick your wounds or whatever. But why are you like pushing me on other people? Why do you want me not to be around? why do you  want me to go out with other dudes?”

Remus lies back on the chest of drawers now, feels beyond dazed. “What the hell are you talking about, Sirius?”

Sirius clenches his teeth right then, the hinge of his jaw going taught 

before he skulks closer, not letting Remus drop his gaze. “Is it me? Is it that you just can’t see me that way? Are you just stringing me along or something? Because I really didn’t think that was your style, but if it’s that, then Remus—“

“Stringing you along?” Remus asks in a voice barely above a whisper, just needs to feel his lips forming the absolutely risible words, even if it makes it so something dark passes across Sirius’s beauteous features.

“Remus, I swear to God! Stop repeating everything I’m fucking saying!”

“Then start making  some damn sense!” Remus snaps, suddenly heated as he straightens and pins him with a proper scowl. “What in holy hell are you going on about?”

“God! Do I have to spell it out!” Sirius barks, cutting the final step dividing them and grabbing for Remus’s shoulders with a tight squeeze. “I know you just wanted to fuck around with someone after Dearborn showed his extreme dickitude, and listen, I was so fucking ecstatic that you wanted me for it. But I can’t do this in-between shit anymore! I’m sorry, but I can’t! And I get if this is annoying, but I’ve been crazy for you for so long. And I just can’t keep myself at an arms length anymore, not now that we’ve really had each other, not after you let me actually touch and taste and fuck you and— Damn it, this isn’t coming out the way I wanted, all right! Damn it, maybe Evans was right and I should’ve made queue cards like some dumb ass— But then James pointed out how unromantic that was, and Marlene said—“

Gently, Remus puts his shaking fingers against Sirius’s lips, effectively killing off anything else he’s about to say. And slowly, everything is beginning to slot into place, and he’s so spiteful over how they’ve been such idiots this entire time— swears to put salt into Lily’s coffee next time he sees her. 

“I didn’t know you actually were into me Sirius.”

Stunned, Sirius’s dark brows hike up to his hairline. “How the hell didn’t you know?” He demands against Remus’s fingers, thunderous and insulted looking.

“Because you never fucking said as much!” Remus defends himself, feels a mangled sort of laughter squirming out. “God, we’re idiots.”

“We’re?” Sirius asks, hesitant and red faced before Remus moves his hand to peck softly against his mouth. 

“I’ve been half in love with you for years you absolute ass-wipe, it’s always been you! You and always you.” Remus tells him breathily, still fighting down the last remnants of his actual, god forsaken giggle— like he’s thirteen again and getting buzzed off his mom’s peach wine coolers. “I only never said anything because I never thought I’d have a chance with someone like you— Someone so— so— Someone so amazing.”

The smile Sirius favors him with right then is something absolutely incandescent, and his eyes shimmer with a very distinct sort of joy that Remus wonders if anyone besides him has ever witnessed. “Then you’re definitely the biggest idiot between us, Lupin.” Sirius declares, knocking their foreheads together, and lacing his hand into Remus’s own before squeezing meaningfully.

“Fuck off,” Remus snorts, presses forwards for another languorous kiss, not feeling in danger of being swallowed whole any more— finally letting himself drown and knowing that Sirius will be there to pull him back up no matter what. 

“Oh, I could get used to this,” Sirius smirks, snakes his arms around Remus’s waste that bit tighter.

“Hmm, there is the problem that I usually don’t put out until at least the third or fourth date,” Remus says mildly.

“Pff, ‘s fine, Lupin,” Sirius insists, grinning beatifically. “I like you being a hussy for me!— Oof, careful with the merchandize, you were speaking some real exaltations about that part of my anatomy not too long ago.”

Moving his knee from the point at hand, Remus sticks out his tongue at him. “See if you ever get any ever again, Sirius Black.”

When Sirius laughs, it sounds like the strike of lightening against unmarked land, and the honey cloaked side of a knife’s edge, and like everything splendid Remus has ever known. And he thinks that yes, he could get used to this right back.

.-

[bakusdumptruck]

Bakusquad Crack Post

Sup bitches 🤩how’s your day been? hope its been good! Anywayyy i was listening to a “Rolling joints with Sero Hanta” playlist and this popped up in my mind sooo here’s a little Bakusquad scenario 😏

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Pairing: aged up Bakusquad x GN Y/n

Warnings: Use of marijuana, swearing, injuries

Summary: A smoke session with the babes turned into a chaotic mess 

Ights sluts lets get into it 😈

Sero Hanta is the stoner of the group. Period. 

He taught everyone how to roll up just incase he was too high to function and wanted to smoke more

One night he texted the gc asking if everyone wanted to have a smoke sesh before they had to study for exams 

You all agreed and went over to his dorm together

All except Bakugou.

He called all of you “idiots” and “dumbasses” for getting faded before studying, but all Sero had to say for him to come was

“Ight bakubro, if you can’t handle it you could’ve said that instead of making excuses 🤷🏻‍♂️”

Bakugou showed up within 5 minutes.

Once everyone was together, tape boy had everything set up

There were 4 joints lined up, hella snacks, drinks, video games, and movies

He even had the LED a n d Galaxy lights on

Lordy it was gonna be a long ass night

NOW ON TO THE FIRST ROTATION 🤩

You know how I said Sero is the stoner? yup uhuh he got the MF GAS.

The rotation was Bakugou, Kiri, You, Mina, Denki, then Sero

You all have a high tolerance so after you saw Bakugou coughing up a fucking lung, yall knew you were in trouble

Everyone coughed... except Sero. He just busted a lung laughing💀

So the joint is finished and you’re all feeling fuzzy

yes you’re high, BUT its not enough to get you guys staring at the wall thinking about space and aliens

Just high enough where time is slowed down and your body feels light

Denki randomly shouted to play video games and everyone agreed

Guess what you’re playing 👀

Ju-on. The fucking grudge game. 

Why did Denki choose this game? oh he just wanted to see if it’d be a scarier experience if you’re all faded

It was 😃

Kiri volunteered to play the first stage to show off his Manliness 😤

So there he goes walking into the abandoned building 

yall know how you can use another wii remote to trigger jumpscares? 

yeahhhh Kiri didn’t know about it... and Bakugou was in charge of that

Everyone was chillin, lowkey feeling at edge to prepare themselves for anything about to pop up

Here comes the scene where he opens the door and scary bitch is on the other side waiting to grab him 

K: “Uhhhh this doesn’t feel right... am I supposed to go this way?

B: “No shit dumbass, its telling you go that way isn’t it? What are you scared or something 😏 I thought you were too manly for this game”

K: “I-I’m not scared... just making s-sure.”

M: “Hehe you’re stuttering kiri”

K: “...I’m just cold”

Right before he grabbed the door handle (I kinda forgot how the game went oops 😅) bakubitch tiggered a jumpscare

K: “Okay here I g- what the fuck 😃”

It didn’t work.

K: “Oh that wasn’t too bad! The games gonna have to try harder if it wants to scare m- JESUS FUCKING CHRIST WHAT THE HELL IS THAT”

Scary bitch popped up outta no where and grabbed him

S: “DUDE FUCKING RUN AWAY”

Y/N: “KIRI THE BITCH IS RIGHT THERE WHY AREN’T YOU DOING ANYTHING”

K: “FUCK- CAN’T YOU SEE IM TRYING”

B: “BITCH SHAKE THE CONTROLLER. YOU HAVE TO SHAKE THE CONTROLLER”

K: “AHSJHS WHY ISN’T SHE LETTING GO”

D: “I-IT”S TELLING YOU HOW TO SHAKE IT. GO LEFT, NO NOW RI-”

Kiri accidentally punched Denki in the face 🙃

All: “...whAT THE FUCK AHAHAHSHAH”

yeahhh so thats how the game ended 😭

Denki was laying on the floor staring at the ceiling wondering what the hell just happened and why everyone was laughing at him

D: *in his head* “I just got punched square in the face 😃 and they’re laughing at me 😃 This is fine. 😃”

K: “B-bro are you okay 😭 iM sorry AHAsh its- its just everyone was screaming and AhahhAHAHA IM SORRY 😭”

Sero let him start the second rotation as an apology for laughing instead of checking up on him 

Honestly yall don’t know if you can go on to the third

Everyone was hella faded at this point

Eyes red, dry mouths, and hungry stomachs

Mina ordered TacoBell knowing everyone was gonna want to eat more than the snacks and you all sat on the floor munching away

You all started talking about stupid stuff:

S: “So like... what happens when we get scared half to death twice”

M: “👁👄👁”

B: “👁👄👁”

D: “👁👄👁”

Y: “👁👄👁”

K: “👁👄👁”

D: “I’ve been scared half to death multiple times... im fucking immortal.”

After a few more high conversations Mina suggests to make tiktoks 

Have yall seen the tiktok where Mina and Y/n do the trend where they wink at the camera and all the boys are watching and Baku comes up to kiss Y/n? 

yup you do that BUT

When Bakugou grabbed your cheeks and went in for the kiss he missed and fell flat on his face 💀

*Cue everyone falling on their asses crying*

Best believe the tiktok went viral 🤩

After the third joint yall decided that the room was too suffocating and went out for a walk 

It didn’t seem like a bad idea... until you all got outside

Denki and Sero were singing “Milkshake” at the top of their lungs while wall twerking on the trees

Kiri and Bakugo were racing to see who’s the fastest but kept tripping over their own feet

You and Mina were recording everything those dumbasses were doing.

All of a sudden yall found yourselves in a clear area a bit far from the dorms

Bakugou laid in the grass staring up at the stars and you all joined getting into a little cuddle pile

At this point the effects of the joints hit at once and everyone was out of their heads

They felt like their spirits were floating out of their bodies

*BOOM*

M: “...did you guys hear that”

All: “yes”

M: “should we go check it out?”

B: “Hell yeah. What if it’s a villain? I bet I can beat their ass in less than a second”

Y: “First, thats literally impossible. Second, We can barely fucking move. How do you expect us to fight a villain 🙂”

A Nomu popped up in front of you

D: “Uhhh aye Bakubro... you think you can beat his ass in less than a second?”

B: “FUCK YEAH WATCH THIS YOU FUCKING EXTRAS.”

...

HE FUCKING MISSED Nomu: “ERRHSJAKFjhuSGHD”

Y/n: *shoots up on their feet then falls over immediately* “DAMNIT I CAN’T STAND UP STRAIGHT WHAT DO WE DO”

Everyone started to use their quirks

Sero shot tape to the nomu

Denki sent 1 millions volts

Mina just kept shooting acid out

Kiri hardened up and threw punches like his life depend on it

Bakugou was screaming “die” and kept exploding shit

and You were also using your quirk to the best of your ability

K: *heavy breathing* “guys... i think we got it”

B: “Ofc we did... we literally went bat shit crazy on it”

When the smoke cleared it was still standing in front of you guys... unharmed...

AND IT MULTIPLIED

K: “����RUN AWAY”

you all started running back to the dorms

well, tried running back to the dorms

Everyone was bumping into each other and tripping

S: “WE’RE GONNA DIE”

Y/n: “WE’RE NOT GONNA DIE JUST KEEP RUNNING... FUCK THEY’RE GETTING CLOSER

Denki ended up facetiming Aizawa in hopes that he would help

A: “Denki, its 4am what do you w-”

D: “SENSEIIII NOMUS ARE CHASING US. SEND HELP.

A: “Why are you guys out of the dorms? aND WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME USE YOUR QUIRKS. YOU HAVE YOUR HEROS LICENSE FOR A REASoN”

D: “WE TRIED. WE MISSED AND IT MULTIPLIED. WE’RE ALSO HIGH AS FUCK BUT WE’RE NOT GONNA TALK ABOUT THAT”

A: “... did you say you were high?”

D: “IRRELEVANT. SENSEI WE’RE GONNA DI-”

The nomu caught him.

A: “Denki... Kaminari... hello?... *sigh* you guys are gonna be the death of me.”

You all ended up getting knocked out by the nomus and taken to the League of Villains hideout 

B: “...Never thought i’d be here again”

S: “ I still have the last joint in my pocket... ya’ll wanna smoke?”

Dabi and Shiggy stared at him like he was crazy but agreed anyway 🤪who’s gonna pass up a free joint? not them. 

So everyone got high again and chilled until the Pro Hero’s saved your asses :)

Oh and also don’t think Aizawa let you guys off the hook. 

You all got house arrest and extra BRUTAL lessons for the next 2 months 

The End :)

Yeahhh idk what this was but I hope you all enjoyed it!! I really wanted to write something angsty but as I was writing I couldn’t take myself seriously and ended up making jokes 😭

[illyaana]

Hey... Could you maybe... Could you make a oneshot consisting of Bakugou's older sibling reader (I'd prefer it to be gender neutral with a more masculine style, however you prefer) x Midnight? 🥺🥺 I love her so much and Horikoshi did her dirty. You can do whatever oneshot that you want/comes to mind, I just want something fluffy. Thank you UwU

Udk how much I squealed getting this as my first ask!

(also whoever you are you made my day/week/month (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ)

I agree, Horikoshi did her dirty. She had some moments but that was IT. I tried my best, hope you like it!!

(it's more of a you being a hero and being in a relationship with Nemuri rather than a one-shot surrounding your relationship, but there's a bunch of fluffy stuff at the end, so gehe-)

Tags: Midnight x Bakugo's Older Sibling! Reader, Binaural, Fluff, Minor Cursing, Mentions of Blood

Your Quirk: Liquid Maker - You conjure a liquid in your hands (smtg like sweat) when you want to and it can become anything. Name it, you got it hun <3

Synopsis: You are a hero (obviously gehe-) and you were catching some villains. Suddenly a huge explosion came from the middle of Musutafu and you headed straight to the crime scene.

Word Count: 2163

SFW Masterlist ◍ Navigation ◍ Requesting Guidelines ◍ Ask here!

You woke up to the sweet smell of smoke coming from the living room. Groaning, you got off your comfortable bed and raced to the living room to stop Bakugo from his daily antics.

"You really got to stop doing this in the morning, Katsuki," you told the younger male, "It's literally," you looked at the clock, "8 am in the morning and my half-asleep self could've gotten hurt stopping you from breaking all hell loose."

Katsuki scoffed while looking at you. "Why aren't you at work yet? As you said, it's already 8 am."

"Later shift today! I only start at around 10 am."

"Wow, aren't you lucky?" Katsuki said as he walked towards the stove, "I'm making pancakes, but I won't make even one for you until you go bathe. You look disgusting."

"Okay, okay." You say, raising your hands and rushing to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

After bathing, you head back into your room and began to wear your skin-tight hero suit.

You groaned slightly as you slowly pulled the form-fitting clothing up your body.

"I swear to God this isn't getting easier."

"You are literally a fatass, so I'm not surprised," you heard Katsuki scream from the kitchen, "I pity Midnight. The fact she needs to be around a literal piece of garbage who doesn't even look good."

"At least I have someone, unlike your childish ass."

"I am a child," he retorted.

You sigh as you open your room door and head back to the kitchen.

"One day, you're going to wish you were nicer to the people around you."

"Maybe," Katsuki said while passing you a plate with a stack of three pancakes, "...but I am pretty sure you aren't going to be one of them, judging by how much you baby me."

"But you are a child! Didn't you say so a few minutes ago?" you say as you pinch his cheeks, earning a growl from him, "Woah, calm down dog."

"Shut up and eat, fatass."

You chuckle at his words and proceed with the order given by your younger brother.

You loved getting later shifts on Fridays. These were the quieter days in the Bakugo household. Mom usually took her extra days off on Fridays like today, extending her weekend. Dad left for work earlier on Fridays but he'd always buy some spicy thing for Katsuki and you to have in the morning. Something to wish us a good day, I presume. And to top it all off, you and Katsuki would have these "sibling" moments, which mostly consisted of you annoying him to the point he'd lash out at you.

"You're a really good cook, Katsuki. These pancakes keep getting better!" you compliment the 10-year old.

And there it was: you entertainment of the day - Katsuki trying to say thank you but failing miserably thanks to his own pride as a "man".

"T-than- that's obvious, isn't it?" he ends, a blush present on his face, "I make pancakes every single time you have a later shift because you like it. If I'm getting better, that means you've been getting more later shifts. That means you've been slacking off, you stupid Pro Hero!"

"...how did you even get to that idea?"

After calming down a raging Katsuki, you put on your gear and head to the entrance of the house.

"Have a good day at school, Katsuki. Don't do anything you'd regret," you playfully warn him before leaving the house.

The streets of Musutafu were usually peaceful. Ever since All Might became the Symbol of Peace, the crime rates have dropped extensively. Yet, there are always one or two little naughty kids that wanted to play with their quirks - or in simpler terms, people who act like kids and try to do minor crimes using their quirks.

Using the liquid formed in your hands, you aimed at the legs of the two running males in black and wrap their legs together. Within a second, the liquid instantly formed into a rope and bounded their legs together, forcing them to fall face down.

"You both gave me a good morning run, thanks for that!" You say as you place two handcuffs around their wrists, "But you should seriously think about another hobby besides stealing."

From afar, you heard a loud boom coming from the middle of Musutafu.

In an instant, you formed another bunch of rope and tied the two males around their waist and pushed them to the corner of a building.

"Run away and you'll get more than just jail time," you say as you rush off to the scene.

The minute you reached the scene, your eyes widened in fear.

Endeavor was the reason behind the whole catastrophe here?

From behind, you felt a pair of soft hands touch your shoulder.

"I know what it looks like, but trust me it isn't," Nemuri started, "A villain that has a mind control quirk is controlling Endeavor from a distance. I've been trying to locate them, but no luck."

You smiled, looking at your girlfriend.

"You managed to get all of that in a few seconds?" you ask, amazed, "I got a good one, didn't I?"

You felt Midnight pinch you from behind.

"As much as I appreciate the compliment, now isn't the time to flirt with me," the female hero said.

You nod, washing away the playful smile.

"You get all the civilians out of here and contact the heroes through the network. I'll try to get him down and knock him out," you say. Nemuri nodded and began to gather the civilians away from the scene.

"Now," you turn to face the 2nd best hero, "How does one take down someone much, much more stronger than you?"

You slowly gathered your liquid in your palm, allowing the fluid to grow in volume.

"You defeating Endeavor would be a sight to behold, not going to lie here," the villain said through Endeavor, "But I am willing to test out that theory."

You lunged at the fire user while creating a fire-resistant rope to tie him down in your hand. In the other, you managed to conjure a Haladie sword - a sword you've trained with ever since your days in UA.

Using the sword, you managed to propel yourself above Endeavor and cut his back. Using the momentum you built, you used both your feet to hit the back of Endeavor's knees, forcing him to kneel.

You immediately stabbed his dominant hand, preventing him from reacting quickly.

With a snap, the Haladie sword transformed back into its liquid state and wrapped around his left hand.

"I was never planning on defeating Endeavor but merely securing him, dear villain of mine," you say as you transformed the liquid around his left hand into a quick-cancelling glove, "It’s one point for Y/N, right now. No point for little Mindy over here."

You began to build up more liquid in your hands to hopefully form another Haladie sword or at least a blade.

The controlled Endeavor began to get up slowly and turn to face you.

"I didn't peg you to be a dumb one, Y/N."

You felt a blade pierce through your stomach.

A civilian sobbed as they pressed the blade deeper into your body, your blood dripping onto their office coat.

"I can't believe you let your guard down so easily. It was your fault to assume I could only control one person at a time, little hero," the controlled civilian said midst crying.

"And that will be your downfall," Endeavor said as small flames began to grow from the palm of his right hand.

The knife that once was in your body was violently ripped out of your body by the controlled civilian and then used to kill themself by piercing their heart.

Tears fell as you saw the now lifeless male bleed to death right beside you.

"Oh don't worry," Endeavor said, "I'll make sure you also go with him, too. That small wound won't kill you, I know that."

You saw Midnight running towards you along with Eraserhead and All Might.

"You know, I always pictured you crying over a dead Nemuri Kayama whilst bleeding from your stomach, have you?"

Your eyes widened at the statement.

There was no way you were going to let that villain kill her.

"Eraser," you screamed, "Erase his quirk and get Midnight out of here."

'Please don't fail on my now, buddy,' you told to your body as you ran towards Endeavor, 'You still have to live for the people you love.'

You quickly formed another Haladie sword and vaulted from the floor towards Endeavor.

You managed to grab the hand aimed at Midnight and pushed it towards you. Using the remainder fluid you had, you formed another quirk-cancelling glove on Endeavor's right hand.

You could hear a sigh of relief from both Nemuri and Shouta, making you smile.

From afar, you heard All Might saying that he caught the villain that was controlling both the civilian and Endeavor. You were shocked when you heard the number one hero's laugh of victory.

You were amazed at the skill the male had.

A villain that took two people to search for was found by him in a few minutes.

Soon, the wound formed by the dead civilian began to take effect as your vision became hazy.

Before you could lose consciousness, you felt Nemuri's hands wrap around you, catching you before you fell.

When you woke up, you heard the sound of hospital monitors beeping. You felt a small hand gripping around your left hand.

"Why did you let them stab you, idiot," you heard your younger brother say, "Don't go teaching me a lesson with your death - it won't work."

You chuckled, looking at the younger blonde. "If this doesn't work on you, I don't know what will."

Katsuki began to sob on your blanket while gripping on the four fingers his small fingers could grip.

"It's okay, Kacchan," you saw a green-haired boy patting his back, "He is here and he is alive. That is all that matters, okay?"

You smiled, looking at the greenette.

"What's your name?" you ask him.

"I'm Izuku Midoriya! I'm friends with Kacchan," he says with a beaming smile.

"Kacchan, huh?" you tease, "You are really close friends with Kacchan, aren't you?"

Before Izuku could reply, you felt Katsuki pinch your leg.

"I don't even know why I care for you, you fatass."

"Oh, how you wound me," you feign sadness as the ten-year-olds left your room.

You smile at the sight of the greenette consoling your brother as they walk out of the room.

You look up to the ceiling, sighing.

"You are a bit too young to be sighing so loudly, Y/N," Nemuri said as she slowly opened the door, "I saw what you did there. Don't tease Katsuki so often, he is quite mature for his age, you know?"

You smile, looking at Nemuri with her hands on her waist.

"He's growing too fast. I need small moments like this to remember how innocent he is before he becomes the raging little twit I know he'll become."

"Woah, Woah, Woah," she says, laughing, " 'Raging little twit'? You really are a bad brother."

You begin laughing, "I have to be the playful one or else the Bakugo's would be a family of three brooding people and one peaceful man."

"True."

Your eyes widen.

"You aren't supposed to agree, you know?"

"My mother taught me not to lie," she says, smiling.

"Well, white lies aren't bad."

She sits beside you and holds your hand. Tears slowly escape her eyes as she looks at you.

"You are okay, right?" She says, sniffling.

You slowly wipe off her tears and put the palm of your hand on her cheek.

"I'm fine, Nemuri."

You slowly move towards her and place a kiss on her forehead.

You pat the empty side of your bed, "Want to join me?"

She slowly nods as she walks to the empty side of the bed and gets in. Her legs immediately wrap around your left leg as she places her head against your chest. Her left hand extends around your waist and hugs you.

"What are you, a koala?" you joke.

"What can I say? You are a comfy tree."

"Well, I am glad to be of service."

Soon, Nemuri goes to sleep. Soft snores can be heard from her as she rubs her head against your chest.

'The koala became a cat,' you thought to yourself.

Your right-hand goes to the top of her head, ruffling her hair.

"I love you so much, Nemuri Kayama. I always will. If I had to, I would gladly lay my life down so that you'd be safe. I know you're asleep and probably can't hear this, but you are the most important thing in my life - don't forget that," you tell her sleeping figure as you fall asleep.

[ramen-rambles]

Bottom Bitch

Kinktober Day 1: Sex Toys

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

Warnings: 18+, tw: drugs, weed/marijuana, sex toys (double edged dildo, vibrator), scissoring, anal, rimming, spit play

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: Quarantine fucking sucks. And unfortunately, your boyfriend’s birthday just so happened to be in right in the middle of this pandemic. With the end of the world seemingly drawing near, you suggest to do something you two have never done before. Who knew that Oikawa would turn into such a needy bitch when he was high? 

A/N: Ahahahaha I’m sorry I haven’t written anything since February LOL. And also, I’m sorry for randomly disappearing for literal months. Uh, please accept this as an apology… I feel like I’ve been a little rusty but I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy Kinktober! 

♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。.

Today was July 20th! Which means that it was Oikawa’s birthday. 

Every year, you and your boyfriend usually did what every couple did to celebrate. A cute date, a nice dinner, a rough fucking — you know, the works. But this year you two ran into a bit of a problem. Unfortunately, due to the mandated self quarantine orders, you couldn’t really do that. But you still wanted to make the most of the situation. 

Just before all the non-essential shops temporarily closed, you were able to make a stop at your local dispensary. You figured that since it seemed like the end of the world was drawing ever near, why not indulge yourselves in some of mother nature’s best gifts? 

The hardest part of this whole thing wasn’t even the fact that you were stuck inside for Oikawa’s special day, no, the hard part was going to be convincing him to get high with you. He knew that you smoked. For fuck’s sake, all of his friends did too. During your high school days, the Seijoh third years were notorious for blazing it up (Matsukawa and Hanamaki, especially). Even as adults, there were times when you would all find some free time just to have a relaxing smoke sesh and catch up on each other’s lives. As they say, old habits die hard. 

So, you wanting to get stoned was no surprise to him. He, on the other hand, was not an avid participant. 

Currently, the two of you were laying down in bed, watching whatever was on television, not that you two were really paying attention. Your mind was more occupied on how exactly you were supposed to bring up this little idea of yours. Getting Oikawa to agree to anything was hard enough as it is, let alone something that seemed so out of his comfort zone. 

“Hey, happy birthday again, Shittykawa. I love you so much, you know that?” You said, looking at him lovingly and nudging him on his side, placing a sweet kiss on his lips. 

“Who are you, Iwa-chan?” He scoffed. “But I love you too, baby. And you know you’ve greeted me almost a million times today, right?”, eagerly returning your gesture.

“I can’t help it! I’m sorry that our usual birthday plans got ruined because of this stupid quarantine. I wish I could make it up to you.” You pouted, looking up at him with pleading eyes. 

“I have a couple of ideas that would more than make up for it,” he teased, grabbing your ass before giving it a loud smack, “but have you got anything in mind, princess?” 

“I actually have something in mind that I really wanted to do with you…” 

“Oh? And what could that be? You going to let me eat that cake of yours?” He said, sitting up on his elbow, with a shit-eating smirk plastered all over that pretty face of his. 

“Well… I was actually hoping that we could get high today… You know, since it seems like the world is ending and all.” You said, nervously scratching the back of your head. “I thought it would be fun to celebrate your birthday in a way we’ve never done before!” 

You sounded doubtful. You had a feeling that he was going to refuse, but his answer came as a surprise. 

“Okay, deal.” 

Did you hear that right? Did he just agree with you? Did your stubborn boyfriend say yes, with absolutely no hesitation?

“R-really!? Wow, I didn’t expect you to be so on board with it! I thought I was going to have to convince you way more.” You cheered, hands wrapping him in a tight embrace. 

“Whatever, it’s not like we can go anywhere anyways. Might as well go wild!” He said with a smug smirk on his face. 

You excitedly hopped off the bed and ran towards your closet, grabbing the goodies you bought. You had bought quite a few products — some edibles, a couple prerolls, and a brand new wax pen. 

“Jesus christ, how much shit did you buy? You must have spent a fortune.”

“Money is no object when it comes to you, Tooru. Also, you don’t really do this kind of thing, so I just wanted us to have some options. In all honesty, I didn’t even think you’d say yes to doing this.” 

“Well, let’s get this party started, princess.” 

You smiled eagerly and laid out all the products in front of him, “So, what do you want to try first? Birthday boy gets to choose.” 

He immediately went for the wax pen, taking a long drag and inhaling the smoke, making sure to keep it in his lungs for a bit before grabbing the back of your head, and forcing your lips to part open before he exhales the smoke into your mouth, as if he was an expert at it. For someone who didn’t do this often, he sure as hell didn’t look like it. 

“Someone seems a bit excited, huh?” You teased, before crashing your lips together in a heated spit swapping session. 

You made your way on top of him, mouth never leaving his, running out of breath as he starts sucking on your tongue, drool spilling out the side of your mouth as it dribbles down onto his face. 

“Fuck. You nasty bitch, you just spit all over my fucking face.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you breathed, “you act like you practically weren’t drinking out of my mouth just a second ago.” 

The both of you consistently took turns taking hits off the pen. Inhaling and exhaling the delicious smoke as if your lives depended on it.  

The two of you started feeling the effects of the drugs get to your head. Lightheaded. Spinning. Intoxicating. But it wasn’t enough. You wanted to feel more. No, you needed to feel more.

You went for the edible and shoved the cookie into your mouth, leaving half of it hanging out. You fed Oikawa the rest of it. He took it willingly, watching a shiver go down his spine as he shuddered from the bitter taste go down his throat when he swallowed. “That tastes like shit. How the fuck do you eat this crap so often?” You let out a small giggle, admiring how cute his inexperience was. “Oh calm down, it shouldn’t take long for you to start feeling it kick in.” 

“So, c’mon birthday boy, let me take care of you.” 

You started kissing over his jawline, licking and letting your teeth bite down on the soft skin of his neck. You nuzzled your face closer, leaving marks and bruises painted all over him.

You continued straddling his waist, your clothed cunt rubbing ever so slowly against his growing erection. Teasing, dragging out the sensation of his cock throbbing over your slit, feeling yourself get more and more drenched with desire. “Are you doing okay, Tooru?” 

“I feel so fucking good. You make me feel so fucking good.” Hearing him sound so desperate and needy caused your cunt to clench. “F-fuck, can you suck my cock, princess? Can you do that for me, please?” You had never really seen this side of him before, but the tables were turning and you were more than willing to give him what he wanted. 

You pulled his shirt up, making your way down his torso, licking and kissing all over his toned abs, sucking on his sensitive little nipples. You slipped your hands under the waistband of his underwear, stroking his hardened cock. You quickly rid him of all his remaining clothes. You followed suit. Now, with the both of you completely naked, the fun was just about to start. 

Gently, you licked a stripe along his head paying close attention to the prominent veins that adorned his massive length. His cock was already dripping, the head beading with his precum. Spitting on your palm, you languidly stroked him, watching his toes curl and a small moan slip out of his mouth. You looked up at him and his eyes were screwed shut, he used his free hand to find purchase on the back of your head. Fisiting your hair, he moved it to the side to make sure he got a good look at how well you sucked his cock. He pushed you further down his length, causing you to gag as he hit the back of your throat. 

You could tell he was close, but just before he could finish, you pulled away. “Shit. Fuck. W-why’d you stop?” 

Aw. He sounded so disheartened. 

“Get on your hands and knees, baby. I want to try something new.” You said with a devilish grin on your face. He looked hesitant at first but his head was spinning so much that he just did it with no resistance. 

You roughly pulled his ass up in the air, your small hands spreading his cheeks apart, exposing his tight, puckered asshole. You let your spit pool in your mouth, teasingly letting it string in between your lips before allowing it to drip over his ass. You circled the pad of your tongue around his rim, prodding it slowly in and out of his tightness. Continuing your assault, you sneaked your hand in between his thighs, stroking his cock every time you pressed inside of him. Oikawa’s hands were fisted into the sheets and his face looked hot to the touch, a red tint glazing all over his body. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, and rubbed your thighs together at the ideas that were brewing in your mind. You reached underneath your bed and grabbed your box full of sex toys, pulling out lube, two vibrators and a thick, purple, double edged dildo. The look of Oikawa getting off to having his ass ate made your cunt pulsate with lust, and so the mere thought of him having him stuffed with a toy had your head fucking spinning. You wanted nothing more than to make a wreck out of his pretty little ass. 

Oikawa was still face down on the bed. His mouth was hanging open, panting heavily as he tried to control his breathing. He was so blissed out, his head seemed to be somewhere in the clouds. 

“Tooru, hey, are you okay? Lie down for me.” You squished his face in between your fingers to get his attention. When he finally turned to you, you could tell he was high beyond belief. “Mhm. Just feeling weird. It feels like the room is both spinning and still at the same time.” He huffed, moving onto his back, resting against the soft satin sheets. You giggled at how he turned into such a needy little boy, practically begging to be fucked into absolute senselessness. 

“Look at me, baby.” You brought one end of the dildo up to your mouth, slowly sucking it off as if it was Oikawa’s cock fucking your mouth instead. He could feel his dick twitch at the sight in front of him, his asshole involuntary clenching thinking about how it might feel to have it inside him. Inching closer to him, you held the dildo in between the two of you and guided the other end of the toy up to his lips. Parting them slowly, he began copying the same movements that you were doing on the other side. Pulling away momentarily, “Shit. You look so fucking hot when you suck cock, baby” you say, letting your free hand roam down to his hardened nipples, pinching and tweaking them, illiciting small moans to escape his lips while he choked on the toy in his mouth. 

“As much as I love seeing you suck on that pretty toy, I know a place to put it that’ll make you feel real fucking good.” Taking the dildo out of his mouth, you slide yourself down towards his lower half, spreading his thighs apart to see his hole that glistened with your spit, and his cock that oozed precum. You pressed wet kisses along his length, tongue stroking his balls, allowing yourself to slither over his perineum, causing him to writhe underneath your touch. You brought your fingers up to his mouth, collecting saliva around your digits before gently pressing them against his tight hole, slowly inching them deeper and deeper inside of him. 

He winced at the intrusion, making his face contort in pain. But surely, that burning sensation of you prodding your slim fingers inside his tight hole began morphing into a euphoric pleasure. He let out a small moan, bringing his fingers up to his lips and biting down on them to suppress the noises that were coming out of his mouth. You paused what you were doing to him to look up and whispered “Aw, c’mon baby, don’t be like that. I want to hear all those pretty noises you’re making while you act like such a little whore.” 

“So be louder for me, sweetheart” you snickered sinisterly as you continued your ministrations on his overly sensitive hole. 

If you weren’t high earlier, then you definitely were now. The effects of the marijuana elevating your sense of reality as the two of you drift into a state of pure fucking bliss. 

You started feeling more impatient, more needy. You needed to get off and you need it now. And Oikawa felt just the same. The look on his face was confirmation of that. Panting heavily, drool escaping the side of his mouth, and wet tears decorating his red cheeks — he looked like he was about to cum without even trying. 

With no delay, you grabbed the dildo and the lube from the side of the bed and began to slather the cold fluid over both ends of the toy. You positioned yourself in front of him, placing one end up to his tight rim while you lined the other side against your dripping wet pussy. You hadn’t even realized how wet you had become because you were so focused on Oikawa — you didn’t notice that your cunt was practically leaking all over you. 

“Haaah. Look at you, baby. Your pussy is begging to be stuffed. So wet for me. So fucking b-beautiful.” Oikawa shuddered, his speech slurred as he was still utterly fucked out because of your incessant teasing from earlier. His words caused your cunt to clench, your eyes closed as you shakingly breathed out, “Please, T-tooru…” 

You started to ease the toy inside of Oikawa — slowly but steadily sliding the thick purple dildo into his stretched out hole. He flinched as you finally got half of the toy into his ass, letting out a sinful moan as the head involuntarily hit against his prostate. “Ah, f-fuck! That felt so fucking good. Baby, please…” 

His eagerness sparked a flame within you, and so you hurried to shove the rest of the toy inside of your own hole. You let out a sigh of relief as your pussy was finally getting some much needed attention, after being neglected for so long as you focused on pleasing your boyfriend. 

You started to move slowly, rocking back and forth against each other as the two of you got used to the sheer size of the toy that connected the both of you. To help ease the pain, you grabbed one of the vibrators, held it up to Oikawa and said, “Here you go, baby. Put it against your cock and show me how you make yourself feel good.” 

He took the vibrator from your hand and followed your instructions like a good boy, letting out a loud whimper as the strong vibrations on his cock made his head spin. As he let his sense of control run loose, he started rutting faster against you as you placed your own vibrator on your sensitive clit. This caused the toy to simultaneously hit your g-spot and Oikawa’s prostate, and so the two of you both let out a loud moan together. 

“F-FUCK! Tooru — shit. That feels so fucking good! Go faster, I need it so bad. C’mon baby, please, I need you to make me cum!” You panted, circling the vibrator faster against your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the orgasm that you craved so much. 

“Oh fuuuuck, princess.” Oikawa moaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he ditched the vibrator and tightly wrapped his hand around himself so he could fist-fuck his weeping cock. 

A collective string of “shit” and “oh fuck” escaping your mouths as the two of you rutted against each other faster and faster, the dildo pounding in and out of your tight holes — each thrust causing the tip of the toy to slam against both of your sweet spots at the same time.

“Fuuuuuuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!” Oikawa groaned as he stroked his cock one final time before he came hard all over himself, his chest painted white as his cum came out in hot spurts.

Seeing your boyfriend’s blissed out face was the final push you needed to set yourself over the edge. Your cunt clenched down on the toy as you came with a loud whine, your juices squirting out of your glistening pussy — making a slick mess all over your thighs and on Oikawa’s lower half. 

You were so spent that the whole world felt still, the both of you trying to catch your breath and recover from one of the most intense orgasms you two had ever had. 

As you came down from your highs, you slowly pulled the dildo out of your abused cunt and Oikawa’s gaped asshole, lazily leaving the toys on a mess of sheets. 

With what little ounce of strength you had left, you got on your knees and crawled up next to your boyfriend. After grabbing a tissue and gently cleaning up the mess you two had made together, you placed gentle kisses along his shoulders and collarbone, wrapping yourself up in his embrace. 

Now, whether it was the drugs or the intensity of his orgasm, Oikawa looked like he was about to pass out. And honestly, you felt like you were about to knock out too. Not that you could really blame him. 

“Hey, wake up, sleepyhead.” You whispered quietly, gently poking Oikawa on the cheek to nudge him awake. You might have been used to handling your high, but Oikawa was still inexperienced when it came to these kinds of things.

“Did you have a good birthday this year?” You asked him, as if you didn’t already know what he was going to say.

“Hi, baby~ Of course I did! I feel so goooood right now! Best birthday everrrr!” He said sheepishly, a tiny grin spreading across his face as he let out a breathy chuckle. 

You decided not to question him anymore, knowing he was too far gone to answer anything coherently. 

“I love you so much, Tooru. Happy birthday.” You whispered to him before the two of you began dozing off into dreamland. 

♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。.

[fromthedeskoftheraven]

Visions of sugarplums

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x female reader

Content: Pining, workplace romance, fake dating if you squint, oh no we’re snowed in, mention of food, kissing, making out, mostly-non-explicit sex (under-18s, jog on), so many sweet pet names you’ll get cavities, romantic Jack because apparently I'm a sucker for that

Word count: ~4800 (yeah. Jack is a demanding muse)

Prompt: “Hoping one day you’ll make a dream last” (Let Her Go, Passenger), for @yespolkadotkitty‘s follower celebration writing challenge 🎉

Note: I said canon Whiskey who? This cowboy drinks respect women juice.

Part two: Kentucky welcome Part three: Just say you will

Taglist (if you’d like to be tagged, un-tagged, or make a request for future fics, feel free to let me know): @writemessystarwars @keeper0fthestars @flightlessangelwings @yespolkadotkitty @emesispo @songsformonkeys @beccaplaying

-----------------------------

A whirl of snow stings your cheek like a slap as you hurry through the grounds of the posh ski resort that sprawls across the valley, dotted with cozy cabins and million-dollar chalets.

Your sheer stockings, low-cut dress, and teetering heels are no match for snow bursts and the wind that cuts through you like a  knife. Inwardly cursing your alter ego and her penchant for skimpy fashions, you tug your thin coat more tightly around you.

This mission was supposed to be a piece of cake. A few days at a luxe resort, posing with your partner as an arms dealer and his girlfriend to get close to your target, and everything was going swimmingly...until your search of the target’s study during a cocktail party was interrupted by two of his security staff making their rounds ahead of schedule. The adrenaline rush of your narrow escape is still humming in your veins.

Beside you, long strides making quick work of the path, Jack Daniels has transformed himself from intelligence agent to wealthy gun runner with the world on a string. The cashmere overcoat that cost more than your first car is the perfect finishing touch to his sharp suit, and his dark good looks stand out even in the hazy moonlight.

Rounding the corner of a chalet, Jack slows his steps to a stroll. A strong arm pulls you flush against his side as he walks, letting an easy laugh float on the wind like you’ve said something witty. Before you have time to wonder what’s going on, another couple materializes in the pool of light from a lamp, squinting against the gusts that throw fresh powder into the air like confetti.

“Evening,” Jack says with a tip of his hat and a winning  smile, the very picture of a genial Southern gentleman. “This weather sure is pickin’ up, ain’t it?”

The couple mutter their agreement  and hurry on their way. Once they’re out of sight Jack’s hand slides to the small of your back, guiding you as you both quicken your strides again. Your teeth are chattering by the time the wind blows you onto the porch of your own cabin, and in a fumble of hands on the doorknob you step together into the blessed stillness of the spacious room.

A  cheerful whistle pierces the air and you turn to find Jack brushing snow off of his black Stetson and favoring you with a lopsided smirk. Even damp with melting snow he manages to be striking, all sultry eyes and dashing mustache and wayward strands of dark hair curling over his  forehead.

“Nothin’ like a little skirmish to get the blood pumping.” He carefully sets the hat on the fireplace mantel to dry. “I feel like...”

“...A tornado in a trailer park,” you finish with him, earning one of those wide, dimpled grins that always dazzles you a little in return.

“Just so,” he says.

“That’s another one in the ‘win’ column.” You try to suppress a shiver as you pull the flash drive that might as well be a smoking gun from the cleavage of your dress. “A few bumps in the road, but we got what we needed.”

Jack ignores the congratulations, stepping close to take your chilled hands between his large ones. His hands aren’t much warmer than yours, but the thrill that trickles down your spine has nothing to do with the cold.

The frown lines between his brows deepen. “Darlin’, you’re colder than a well-digger’s belt buckle. Go on and have yourself a hot shower while I get a fire started and check in with HQ.”

“I can wait, I’ll help you,” you offer.

He shakes his head, already moving toward the fireplace. “Don’t you worry, sugarplum, ol’ Jack’ll have this place snug in no time. You just get comfortable.”

Helpless against the lure of hot water and fuzzy socks, you rummage in your suitcase for a change of clothes. Still, you stop at the bathroom door to look back at Jack where he’s stacking logs with the same determination furrowing his brow as when he’s reviewing dossiers or cleaning his guns.

The two of you have been almost inseparable for the year that you’ve been working for the Statesman agency. Even your code name was assigned with your partnership in mind, a little inside joke Champ never gets tired of telling when he introduces the two best agents in the New York office: “...Because you can’t have a Manhattan without Whiskey and Vermouth!”

Jack comes on as strong as his namesake liquor, but you’ve seen the  steely nature under his flashy Southern charm, the practice behind the effortless shows of skill, the tender heart he hides with bravado.

And he has no idea you’ve fallen in love with him.

As though he can feel your gaze, Jack looks up, his stern expression relaxing. He gives you a wink and waves one hand to shoo you along before getting back to his task.

With a sheepish smile, you duck into the bathroom and turn on the shower before you can do something stupid.

Like asking him to join you.

***

"Mission report, Agent?”

Champ’s projection flickers into the armchair across from Jack, looking like some kind of Halloween effect with the flames dancing over the logs in the fireplace behind him.

“We’ve got all the intel we need.” Jack adjusts his glasses, stretching his legs out in front of him with a sigh. “Agents ready for pickup.”

“Glad to hear it. Where’s Vermouth?”

Jack glances toward the sound of running water. “She’s just showerin’ to warm up. We got caught in a snow flurry coming back to the cabin.”

“That so?” The ghost of a smile flits over Champ’s face. “I thought you’d want to be the one warmin’ her up.”

Jack’s not sure if he’s more annoyed by the teasing, or how quick he is to take the bait. “Champ, this ain’t a Fourth of July picnic. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m on a delicate mission with my partner.”

“Now, don’t get your feathers ruffled, son,” Champ says mildly, reaching for a highball glass. “You confided in me about your feelings, and I’m just givin’ you a little nudge of encouragement.”

“I did not confide in you.” Jack leans forward to jab a finger at the hazy image of his boss. “You tested Ginger’s new truth serum on me.”

Champ’s grin is distinctly unrepentant. “Well, you looked like a man who needed to get somethin’ off his chest. ‘Sides, I won twenty bucks from Tequila for being right.”

Jack only grunts, slumping on the couch again. “Your granny’s special mint julep recipe, my ass.”

“Jack, she’s a pretty girl. Smart as that whip of yours. You think you’ll be the only one to notice? Anybody can see Vermouth thinks the world of you, but one of these days she’ll be wearin’ another man’s ring if you don’t stop pussyfooting around and make good on all that flirtin’ you do.”

That idea settles in Jack’s stomach like a bad oyster.

Of course, Champ has a point.

You are pretty. No, scratch that...beautiful. You’re a hell of a good agent -- the quickest route to Jack’s bad side is to suggest otherwise -- but you’re so much more than that. Your sweetness and spirit are more than a man like him can hope to deserve, but damn if the way your eyes light up when you smile doesn’t thaw something long dormant in his chest.

If he’s been hell-bent on keeping things professional between you, his dreams are anything but. When he closes his eyes he sees you, soft and yearning and his. His to have and hold until he wakes up aching, with your phantom touch lingering on his skin.

He’s starting to forget why professionalism was so important to him in the first place.

“Champ, you got anything else related to this mission? Been a long day here.”

“Matter of fact, I do.” Thankfully, Champ has the grace to go along with the change of subject. “That storm’s kickin’ up too much snow to get a jet in there. You’ll have to hunker down and wait for a pickup in the morning.”

Well, if the universe wants to hand Jack another night in your company, who is he to argue?

“Copy that,” he says out loud. “We’ll await contact in the morning.”

Champ smiles. “Plenty of time for any long-overdue conversations you might want to have.”

“You’re startin’ to break up. Whiskey out.” Jack pulls off the glasses and tosses them unceremoniously onto the coffee table, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Sparing a glance at the darkening sky outside the window, he hauls himself off of the couch to put another log on the fire, trying not to think about how Champ just might be right.

***

When you emerge from the bathroom in a cloud of fragrant steam, Jack is lounging on the couch in front of a crackling fire. He’s traded the designer clothes for jeans and a faded button-down shirt and managed to tame his tousled hair. You know he takes pride in his trademark hat and bespoke suit jackets, but there’s something about him when he’s dressed down and softer around the edges that tugs at your heart.

He looks up when you come into the room, cheek dimpling with a smile. “Well, don’t you look like a new woman? Thought you were fixin’ to turn into an icicle on me for a minute, there.”

“Here’s hoping our next assignment involves sandy beaches and umbrella drinks.” You hug your sweater around yourself. “What’s the word from Champ?”

“Looks like we’re here for the night on account of this storm.”

As if on cue, a gust of wind rattles the windows, making you jump.

“Come and have a seat by the fire, sweetheart.” Jack picks something up from the coffee table and waves it at you. “Got a protein bar and some water for you. I don’t know about you, but a handful of damn canapes ain’t going to see me through to morning.”

“You sure know how to wine and dine a girl, cowboy,” you tease, dropping onto the couch.

His laugh is as good-natured as ever. “When we get back home, I’ll cook you the best steak you’ve ever had.”

“The best steak since the last one you cooked for me?"

“Well, a man should always be improvin’ his technique to keep a woman happy.” His dark eyes twinkle with mischief, and you roll your eyes but can’t quite smother a laugh.

The protein bar tastes something like chocolate-flavored chalk but you’re hungry enough to make quick work of it, washing it down with gulps of water. Jack nudges your shoulder and you find him offering his flask with a wry smile.

“’Fraid it’s all I've got in the way of dessert.”

The whiskey inside burns its way down your throat and mellows to spread its warm glow through your chest. With a sigh, you hand back the flask, watching Jack’s throat ripple with the swig he takes before reattaching it to his belt.

The liquor’s fire contrasts with the chill of the day in your bones, setting off a shiver that shudders through your shoulders and arms.

“Honey, you still cold?” Jack’s voice is rough-edged with weariness and whiskey.

“Well, I like a nice walk in the snow as much as the next girl, but I was half naked in that ridiculous outfit,” you say dryly.

One corner of his mouth quirks upward. There’s something unreadable in those fathomless eyes as he watches you for a moment before opening one arm, arching a brow in invitation.

Some tiny, winged creature takes up residence in your chest where your heart should be, and you immediately scold yourself. Jack’s your partner and your friend. Of course he has the decency not to want to see you miserable after a long, cold day.

So you tell yourself, even as you go to him, nestling into his side and letting his arm come around you to hold you close. His hand is relaxed on your shoulder, his thumb trailing back and forth in a gentle rhythm.

“Better?” he murmurs.

You feel like home, you think.

“Better.”

With Jack’s heartbeat steadfast and comforting under your palm, the last of your reserve dissolves. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck and melt into his warmth, breathe in his scent, musky and tinged with leather and sandalwood.

Quiet descends on the room, fleece-soft and a little sleepy, as you stare into the fire and let your mind wander. The hypnotic trace of Jack’s thumb over your shoulder is the only indication that he’s still awake.

You sneak a look at him. His eyes glitter black in the gathering dark and his profile is regal, carved into the stern dips and hollows of a Roman sculpture by the play of light and shadow from the fire.

He’s beautiful. You wonder if anyone’s ever told him.

“Jack?”

He hums in answer, almost the purr of a contented cat.

“Do you ever think about retiring?”

A soft snort of laughter rumbles against you. “You callin’ me old?”

“We both know I’d punch anyone who did,” you scold, giving his chest a playful swat. “I just mean...do you ever imagine doing something else? Something more peaceful?”

“Well, I’ve got a patch of land in Kentucky with a farmhouse. One day I suppose I’ll give up the apartment in the city and trade the Silver Pony in for a ridin’ mower.”

You frown. It’s a jarring reminder that after all this time, Jack still has his secrets. “You do?”

He nods. “It’s been in my family for generations, my granddaddy left it to me. Always thought I’d raise a family there. Houseful of kids, dogs, the whole nine yards,” he says ruefully.

He doesn’t have to tell you why he never did.

The tragic loss of Jack’s wife and unborn son is no secret in the agency, and you might know better than anyone about the hole they left in his life. It’s always broken your heart for him, but the idea of this family home that sits empty but for his ghosts makes it suddenly, achingly easy to imagine Jack building a cradle in the barn and reading bedtime stories and teaching little ones to ride their first horses.

“Maybe it’s not too late,” you offer. “You never know.”

He squeezes your shoulder for an instant, a silent recognition of your kindness, before going on with a breezy sigh. “What about you? You fixin’ to go plant yourself by a pool somewhere with a fancy drink in one hand and a book in the other?”

“What, and not get to play fake criminals at cocktail parties with you?” you scoff. “Not a chance.”

His smile is sharp and sweet as molasses. “Well, I'm always happy to escort the most beautiful woman in the room.”

There’s something so plain and sincere about the sentiment that you’re taken aback.

Jack throws around compliments like other people talk about the weather. But you know when he’s just greasing the wheels of conversation, filling the space between words...and this isn’t it.

Ignoring the rush of heat into your cheeks, you default to the safety of humor. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Agent Whiskey.”

The smirk, the laugh, the sly innuendo you’re expecting don’t come. He shifts to look at you, so close and so handsome it hurts, and the naked admiration in his eyes makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Ain’t flattery, sugarplum.” His thumb travels fleetingly to the bare skin of your neck above the collar of your sweater. “You’re as pretty as a Kentucky sunrise and twice as bright, and that’s the truth.”

“Jack, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me...that anyone’s ever said to me,” you blurt out, and mean it.

His dimple deepens, and a dash of his usual devilish charm flashes across his face. “Well, if we’re bein’ honest with each other, I must confess to thinkin’ lots of complimentary things about you.”

You can barely hear him over the hammering of your heart.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls. The flicker of his glance to your lips is so quick, you could almost miss it.

But you don’t.

Maybe it’s the whiskey, maybe it’s the wind wailing in the eaves, maybe it’s the thrill of almost being caught by the bad guys, but something prods you on, dares you to play with fire. Your hand shifts almost imperceptibly on his chest, letting the tip of one finger find the warm, tanned skin at the open neck of his shirt.

“And what are you thinking right now?”

Something hot and swaggering flares in his eyes and you know, you know he’s picked up your gauntlet.

“Well, sweetheart...” His hand moves from your shoulder, trailing lazily to the nape of your neck. He tilts his head to watch goosebumps erupt in the wake of his touch before turning that smoldering gaze on your face again. “Right now I’m wonderin’ what you’d say if I were to kiss that pretty mouth.”

“I’d probably ask what took you so long.”

You barely finish the sentence before his hands cradle your face and his lips are on yours, stealing your breath with their plush softness.

Nothing in your experience of lukewarm flirtations and flaky boyfriends has prepared you for Jack’s affections. He’s a force of nature, possessive and generous by turns, and his approving hum when you open for him and the hot slide of his tongue against yours have you clinging to him like you’ll drown if you let go.

It’s only when you’re nearly dizzy that you break away for air. “Jack,” you whisper, sinking a novel of emotions into one syllable.

His lips brush your forehead. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. My beautiful girl.”

“I’ve always been your girl, Jack.” You rest your forehead against his, closing your eyes against the glaring, shimmering audacity of the words. “I love you.”

The exhale that fans over your cheek is your name. Your real name, the one thing he almost never calls you. His hand is gentle, tilting your chin up. “Look at me.”

You gather the nerve to lift your eyes to his, only to find them soft. Happy.

“Honey, I love you.” His dimple makes an appearance with an apologetic smile. “Hell, I was smitten from the first handshake. But you were a new agent, and things were workin’ out so well, I never wanted to upset the applecart by tellin’ you so.”

Your laugh is breathless with relief. “Well, then,” you say, toying with the button that stands between you and his bare chest. “I guess we’ve got some lost time to make up for.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.” With the agility of his training, he hooks one hand around the back of your knee and the other around your waist and moves you to straddle his lap. His big hands splay across your back to pull you snugly against him as he traces the line of your jaw with his nose. “Now where were we, darlin’?”

Your head is spinning with the nuzzling of his nose over your pulse point and the broad warmth of his chest pressed to yours and the growing hardness under the tight denim of his jeans.

“You were--” You break off in a gasp as his teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck. “You were kissing me better than anyone else ever has.”

“Baby, I’m gonna make you forget about ever kissin’ anybody else.”

You don’t bother telling him you’re way ahead of him.

Jack’s hair is soft and thick when you weave your fingers into it like you’ve always wanted to, stroking where it hints at curling at the nape. When your hand slips under his collar to shape the strong column of  his neck, caress the vulnerable skin under his jaw where his pulse is thundering in time with yours, the low growl in his throat sends heat spiraling straight to your core.

He surges up to capture your mouth again, a hot, demanding crush of lips and tongues that makes you move restlessly against him, wanting more. He doesn’t miss it, and when he slides one hand to your lower back to press you even closer on his muscled thighs every nerve in your body lights up.

“I want you, Jack,” you plead between kisses. “Need you.”

His hands slide underneath your sweater and come to rest, warm and calloused, on the soft skin over your ribs. When you least expect it, he gentles the kiss into something almost chaste and when he pulls away, just enough to look into your face, his eyes have gone solemn.

“Tell me to stop, sweetheart. I will.”

You could burst with love for this man.

“I’ll strangle you with your own lasso if you do.”

Jack barks out a surprised laugh, lighting up with a grin before he goes in for another kiss. “Gonna take care of you, sweet girl.” His voice is silky against your lips. “Gonna give you everything you need.”

His hands move, bringing your sweater with them to whisk it over your head, and you feel the weight of his appreciative gaze roving over your bare skin and sheer bra.

“I can’t remember when I’ve seen anything so gorgeous.” His hands are back at your sides, fingertips teasing at the edges of the purple lace that leaves little to the imagination. When his eyes meet yours again, they’re blown dark and deep with desire. “And I reckon you’d look even prettier spread out for me on that big bed.”

That’s all it takes to have you scrambling to your feet, shimmying out of your leggings and socks as you cover the handful of steps to the luxurious bed that faces the fireplace. You reach for the clasp of your bra, but a click of Jack’s tongue halts your movement.

“Slow down, there, honey.” There’s a hint of command bleeding into his voice that you know well from missions, the sound of him giving orders and expecting them to be obeyed that always kindles a flame in you. “Let your man unwrap his gift.”

A blush warms your cheeks and trickles down your neck as you drop your hands to your sides and wait for him beside the bed, anticipation tingling in your limbs.

Jack has beautiful hands, as graceful as they are strong, but they’ve never been so mesmerizing as they are now, making quick work of his shirt’s buttons and carelessly shedding it to the floor.

You’ve seen him shirtless before -- it’s hardly avoidable when you spend most of your lives together -- but never like this. Never when you’re openly staring at his broad shoulders and lean waist and the smooth planes of his chest, all bronzed in the glow of firelight. And certainly never when he’s calling himself your man and looking at you like he’s starving and you’re his favorite meal.

His arms slide around your waist and the heated press of his skin against yours tears a soft whimper from your throat. He catches it with his mouth, blends it with his own hum of satisfaction in a searing kiss.

He keeps his lips on yours even as he eases you back onto the bed, laying you down on the fluffy comforter with his hand cradling the back of your head. He stands again for as long as it takes to shuck off his jeans and kick them away before he’s crawling over you, settling his warm weight over your body and into your welcoming arms. You’re so swept up in the kiss that reunites you that you barely notice the skillful flick of his fingers that frees you from your bra...until he bends his hot mouth to your breasts and lightning spikes through your veins.

“So perfect,” he praises against your tender skin. “So good for me.”

He’s perfect. Even more than you’ve imagined on the lonely nights when you give yourself over to fantasies just like this, of Jack pressing you into a mattress and murmuring sweet sentiments in that liquor-and-honey voice while his clever hands find you more than ready for him.

A whine escapes you when the cool air of the room suddenly replaces the heat of his body, leaving you bereft.

“Don’t you worry, honey.” Jack’s voice drops an octave, even as a smirk coaxes his dimple out of hiding. “I said I’d take care of you.”

Warm hands slide your panties down your legs and off, and he strips off his own boxers to come back to you in all his naked glory.

His strong biceps cage you in and his mouth finds yours again as your hands roam greedily over golden skin and taut muscles and the hot, hard length between you.

“Jack, you’re so beautiful,” you sigh, over his panting breaths into your neck. “I’ve wanted this. Wanted you, for so long.”

He raises his head to look at you, lush lips parted and eyes blazing. “Honey, you’ve got me. For as long as you’ll have me.”

He kisses you like he’s sealing a promise.

And then he’s inside you, like he belongs there. Maybe he always has.

Every surge of his body, every stroke of his hands, every gritted curse and word of praise pressed to your skin makes stars burst behind your eyelids, and when you’re clutching blindly at his back and keening his name like an incantation, his voice is a desperate rasp in your ear.

“Let go, sweetheart. I’ll catch you.”

You do. And he does.

And when he grips bruises into your thigh and shudders in your arms and buries a broken declaration of love in your hair, you know beyond a doubt there will never be anyone else.

***

If there’s a heaven, Jack’s pretty sure he's died and gone there to be lying in a cloud of down comforters with you tucked close to his side, head pillowed on his shoulder and legs tangled with his own. The bare skin of your back is petal-soft under his stroking fingers as he watches the firelight dance on the ceiling.

“I love you, Jack,” you murmur, and his heart swells too big for the prison bars of his ribs.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He laces his fingers with yours on his chest, brings them to his lips. “You know, I dreamed about this,” he confesses.

You raise your head, resting your chin on his chest to look at him. “You did?”

“I did. Felt a little guilty about it, if I’m bein’ honest, but I don’t guess I could help it.”

“I won’t hold it against you.” Your eyes sparkle at him in the dim light. “Did I live up to your dreams?”

He smiles, sweeping a stray lock of hair away from your face. “Oh, honey, they couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing.”

You look pleased with that answer, nuzzling a kiss into his neck before settling your head on his shoulder again.

“I can’t wait to get you home,” he muses. “Have you in my own bed.”

He feels you smile against his skin. “As many nights as you want, cowboy.”

“Careful, there. I might take you at your word, you’ll go home and find movers at your place.”

You sigh out a laugh that’s music to his ears and draw idle shapes on his skin with your fingertips in the quiet.

“Jack,” you say again, soft as a peach blossom.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Will you take me to that farmhouse sometime?”

His greedy heart can already see you there, breathing life into the place.

You, perched on the kitchen counter, feet swinging in time with your chatter while he cooks for you. Sitting with him on the porch swing to watch the sunset splash its tapestry of pink and orange and lavender across the sky. Soft and sweet underneath him in the big cherry wood bed, greeting the pale glow of morning with sleepy eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

A backyard wedding.

Tiny, mewling cries in the night and your silhouette framed with moonlight from the picture window while you nurse a baby who has Jack’s eyes back to sleep.

The peace that washes over him is too good to be true, too hopeful for his battered heart, too honest for his life of compromises.

He closes his eyes, drinks it in anyway. Claims it. Squeezes you a little closer in his arms.

This is the dream that lasts.

“That’s a promise, sugarplum.”

[etheravie]

Where the Green Grass Grows

Chapter 7: Quiescent

· · ─────── ·🙜· ─────── · ·

       Again Technoblade hummed, and it was glass against the strained hearing that a firework had once broken through. He stopped and turned to him with a newfound fury not unlike the one the piglin had carried minutes before. "You know damn well that this wouldn't be happening if you didn't break him out. Fuck your favors. Was putting Tommy through death a hundreds times and back a part of the fine print? Because if that's so hard to read, then maybe you deserved to be in that prison of a place for three months."        Techno remained stoic. "I'm a man of my word, Tubbo. I can't leave a man who saved my life on his own will to die when he needed me."        "He didn't need you to save his ass, you son of a bitch. He was perfectly fine rotting in there like he fucking deserved, and now he's going to make us pay for his stupidity now that he's out! How can you even live or sleep at night knowing that he's out there because of you? You don't know what it's like to be targeted by him. You don't know what it's like for him to be scared shitless knowing that that bastard is out there on the hunt for him. He could be after me next. What will you do then?"

· · ─────── ·🙜· ─────── · ·

       Hoofsteps ventured into the room, and neither of the two spoke when doing so or immediately after the door was shut to effectively trap the cold back outdoors and away from the gilded cage. Techno had shrugged his shoulders backwards to adjust his cape from the winds that had once tried to tarnish his appearance, and nothing was said when Tubbo observed Techno's eyes meandering about the corridor.        "I see Ranboo's money went into good investment."        The comment provoked a snicker that Tubbo was too late to stop, and he couldn't help but to feel sheepish for the smile that refused to leave his face. "He commissioned this place long before that, Boss Man. It's just me and Michael, now."        Technoblade hummed, and any playful whispers of the air that had managed to seep in through the cracks of the wooden doors were shunned away as soon as the noise was made. It now threatened to choke them, and Techno was winning the battle with his own suffixation.        "So... you mentioned you had regen pots?" Tubbo brought up, wincing at his own voice.        Techno raised an eyebrow. "Are you just asking that because there's nothing else to say, or..."        "Maybe that. But, really. And if you say it's for my growth, I will just slice your head off."        "Maybe that," Techno parroted, and the expression that he received in return from the sheep was unreadable. Whatever glare he felt piercing into his mind from beneath the curtain of the brunette's bangs was ignored with a simple wave when the piglin brought up his inventory panel. A familiar glass bottle dropped easily into the palm of his hand within a stream of pixels, its contents shimmering with a gentle pink liquid that pulsed with power. "But I figured that you would need it. Phil wouldn't let me in if I didn't."        Tubbo would have laughed at the comment had he not known the Blade for longer than he did. Interactions had been sparse in the past, but what he did know about him was hard to forget. He always did leave a trail of smoke in his wake wherever he went. "Right... anything else?"        "If you're just going to ask more questions the whole time, I'm not going to have enough time to give you everything."        "What else am I supposed to do when you show up at my door unannounced and after Puffy's told everyone to basically piss off for a while?"        "A while is a vague term, Tubbo."        The sheep rolled his eyes and reached up to take the potion offered, motioning for the taller hybrid to follow as he trotted towards the kitchen. He had more potions and supplies stocked up than anyone in the server did (or, at least, nearly every barrel within the mansion was filled full with similar things), so there were no complaints to be spoken from the shorter. Instead, he said, "How has Michael been?"        "I don't think it's healthy for him to be constantly holding a wooden sword." Technoblade answered.        Tubbo protested. "He's a ziglin. What do you expect?"        "For him to try to trash the place and be forced outside when we spar so Phil doesn't have to replace everything in the house."        This time Tubbo let himself laugh freely as he slid open the cover to one of the containers, peering into the slot before moving onto the next in search of some empty space. "You can thank Tommy for that one. He looks up to you, you know."        "I'm pretty sure that everyone does."        Tubbo bit his lip to contain his retort towards his executioner, glancing once to him before turning back to the barrels. The string of words warded off any further tension while simultaneously tightening the knot. "I actually wanted to ask the same to you. He kept cryin' for you whenever he went to bed. Tubbo, you... you don't know how many stories I had to tell on the spot. Improv is not my forte, Tubbo."        The smile didn't leave his face when he brayed, his ear flicking. "Well, I've been asleep ever since we got home and I only now woke up today. He's been good, though, as far as I can tell. Told me off for being gone for so long, but he looked decently happy to have Tommy back."        "I didn't know that it was possible for you to sleep for more than eighteen hours."        Half of a pale crayon was thrown towards the piglin, an action which made him snort while Tubbo continued to search undeterred. "The more you know. Maybe you'd actually learn if you don't stay cooped up inside your house."        "Blizzards are a menace. Don't even try to argue with me on that."        "Damn right they are. Can't argue with that," agreed Tubbo with a nod.        It was then that again the two fell into a silent standstill. This time, however, it wasn't as suffocating nor as awkward as it had once been. It wasn't too difficult to tell that one wanted to say something to the other and they in return, but neither felt the need to. Whether this was out of fear for the reaction or from pure comfort of being able to be in one another's presence without too much fear of the other snapping for a memory long passed yet still in the flesh neither could say. Neither wanted to.        "Tubbo-" Technoblade began, making his way forwards before stopping mid-step. His boot had landed on something that crinkled, and looking down, he only took a step back. When next he placed his foot back down, a small smear of blood stained a new part of the wooden floorboards. When he looked up the sheep was staring at him, and though his mouth now was pursed in a straight line, he didn't need to see his eye to see the stare. "Well, it's not what I was going to ask, but having spare blood around in your house probably isn't a good thing."        "It's a long story," said Tubbo slowly, shaking his head once and turning back to the barrels. "Just an accident."        "It must be a pretty long accident for it to be a pretty long story."        "In a way, yeah. It was just a small misunderstanding."        "...I don't think-"        "I get it! Look, just... agh, fuck. Forget the potion. Say again why you're here."        "Will the third time get to your head?" asked Techno.        Tubbo winced when he heard the smile. "Piss off."        "The other two. I know you wouldn't send Michael back to Ranboo, otherwise he'd be trying to get into my room the first thing in the morning again."        Tubbo took a deep breath, steeling himself against the invisible wall. He lowered his head as though he were pressing against it, ignoring the other male in the room. He wished it were easier done than said.        Wordlessly, the shorter moved back towards the corridor, turning to the staircase. The hoofsteps that carried greater weight behind him were a dull thud behind as they ascended to the second floor that was touched by a greater chill than that of the first, the fire from the living room having a more difficult time in reaching what the smoke couldn't touch.        "His room is the first door down that hall and to the right on the right wall. Try anything and your crown won't be the only thing to fall."        "I wouldn't dream of it."        When Tubbo left to return back downstairs, he didn't doubt the promise

"Hey, Boss Man. How's your finger?"        As expected, no response was given no matter how much Tubbo yearned for one. But there was no way to make him speak, as not even the most painful injury in existence didn't make him flinch. It had been but a simple pierce, but Tommy had yet to flinch or even acknowledge that it had happened. Regardless, no matter how much he longed for any kind of reaction other than an eternal stare that never seemed to cease, he wasn't going to test his theory. Tommy had suffered more than he deserved to in a lifetime within the span of a few months. The silence was killing his friend, and he didn't even seem to care. Maybe he just wasn't showing it enough.        "Techno's here. I know that you heard us," Tubbo commented as he took his seat on the other side of the couch where the eburnean sat, staring into the fire. The dancing light held no concern as to who is performed to, listening to its own crackling as it never stopped sending sparks into the air. It was always pretty until you tried to intercept its dance. The backlash was searing.        The scars of a different fire that branded half of Tubbo's body contorted little to none when his eyebrows furrowed and he looked from Tommy's eyes to his injured finger. He had broken contact with the flickers to instead look at Tubbo's, his sights zeroed in in his own intact one. At least that much Tommy could remember.        He began to reach out before retracting his hand as though he had been burned. The phantom pain felt like it, but this time it wasn't throughout his whole body like it was the majority of the time when he awoke with the pain of the impact that had been but a dream. Instead it was focused on his shoulder where a pale hand had placed itself. It was harder than it should have been to not look at the bandaged finger.        "What's this for?" whispered Tubbo quietly, his ear lowering and a gentle bray escaping him. Behind the crackle of the fire, hummed voices were heard from above. A happy squeal sounded threatened to make Tubbo smile before the conversation resumed again. He knew that he wouldn't get anything from the boy beside him, and the hope that he had once tried to hold onto did nothing in proving him right. The disappointment was a muffled itch beneath his skin that drove him insane. "Why?"        When Tommy's mouth didn't move it felt like the world betrayed him yet again. He had lost his trust in it long ago. His own teeth made no move to bite his skin to keep himself from spilling his guts out but still an acidic taste flooded his mouth that hurt worse than any pierce, blood, or lie could ever make him feel. He had tasted it once, and it never got any better when it returned.        The two watched each other for a moment. Neither made a move to blink or break eye contact. One eye looking into two revealed less than two looking into one, and for a foolish moment, the sheep would have thought that it would be easier. He didn't want to say. Maybe Tommy couldn't. The movement of the eye was as silent as a whispered promise that both parties knew would be broken. A sound that shattered glass into pieced that embedded themselves into ones skin to never be removed again no matter how many attempts at reconciliation were made. No matter how much of a success or a failure it was.        "Am I interrupting something, or..."        Tubbo huffed and shook his head, motioning with a partially-gloved hand for the piglin to enter. The warrior did with a wary gaze that only pushed Tubbo further to the tip of the sword when already he was having difficulty treading the edge. "No. Make yourself at home."        The teen held his breath at the notion that Techno, too, was feeling the effects of merely being in the same room as Tommy. In knowing that he was only nearby. That he was only steps away.        "Uh... Tubbo? I don't think bandages can fix this," he commented.        "Well, it's better than letting him hurt worse than he already is."        "I didn't think that Dream was a fan of staring contests."        "When you're trapped with that bastard for that long, I'd assume you'd get to know a lot about him."        Nothing further was said when Techno seated himself on one of the chairs angled towards Tommy's side, and the trio were silent when the taller hybrid slipped off his cloak to place it on the back of the seat. The fire that provided a gentle warmth with its soothing hum had turned the room into an inferno, and again the serene silence was shattered in a reluctant exchange for that of suffocation. The urge to run out of the room was tantalizing, and so was his surprise when he caught the blade's eye looking towards the archway that exited back into the corridor more than once while the two struggled to grasp onto the rope of words.        "So, uh... Tom-"        "He can't talk, I don't think," Tubbo interrupted, intending to spare Techno the mercy of wasting words. The look that was cast to him was difficult to decipher.        The piglin pressed. "At all. No... no words. Zero. None."        "Nope."        "Okay. When Puffy said that he was bad, I didn't think that he was this bad."        "The more you know."        Techno drew in a breath, and Tubbo didn't hear the exhale. He didn't realize that he had pressed himself further into the corner of the couch until the pink-haired male had stood and walked in front of Tommy. Even without his cape the blood was visible to nobody but the victim. "I... understand you've been hanging out with Dream. That can't have been fun."        He ignored the razor-sharp glare this earned him. "Whatever's under those bandages can't be fun, I'm guessing. Tommy... you've been gone for a while. You remember who I am, right? You remember Tubbo and Michael, from my understandin'. Are you... in there? Somewhere?"        Tubbo had tugged up the collar of his vest as far as it could go, his elbow resting on the armrest of the couch. His palm was clamped over his mouth, and he had yet to shut his eye. Whatever Techno was doing; standing, grasping, or leaving, he didn't want to know. He had proved countless times that actions were his love language, and he hadn't needed to know Techno for long to realize that lightning had caught his tongue.        The Blade's breath hitched before he let out a soft huff. Tubbo forced himself to look up slightly, willing his heart to maintain the rhythmic beating that he had so hard tried to keep. The body language of a piglin was no exception to that of a piglin hybrid, depending on the traits they inherited. Deceit was common with all. "Techno-"        "Don't worry, Tubbo. I'm not going to try anything," he said simply. His sights on the teen lingered on him, knowing that he was regarded with extreme skepticism. Either old habits died hard, or Tommy wasn't the only one that was making things seriously wrong.        Technoblade looked back to Tommy and was as unreacting as he was, glaring into the empty eyes that now stared back at him. When he moved, Tommy's eyes followed. "Get up for a second. I just want to see something."        Tommy didn't do as commanded, and Tubbo swallowed thickly. "He doesn't move on his own. Let me-"        "No. No, you're fine. Get up, Tommy. I know you're listening."        The silence spoke volumes, and when the sheep stood to guide Tommy to do the same, Technoblade didn't object. The eburnean was led around to face the piglin, and luckily, didn't need to have his head manually tilted for him to properly look up to the male. The twitching in Tubbo's tail didn't allow him to sit back down, and if he did, he would have shot back up. He flinched for Tommy when a hand was placed on his shoulder, in which the ivory-haired boy only looked to it then back to Techno's eyes when he said, "Come on, Tommy. You're too much of a nuisance to ignore everyone like this. I just want to know this: Is this really you right now? Or is Dream still keepin' you?"        Before Tubbo could try to comprehend the meaning of his words, a harsh thud made him jump to his hooves. The blood from afore suddenly dried and turned into rose-tinted ice, rendering him frozen in place and unable to breathe not unlike to how the winter winds outside stole the breaths of those who tried to trek its treacherous terrain. If he could move, he wouldn't be able to pry away the hand that had wrapped itself around Tommy's throat, pinning him to the wooden wall behind him. A fury was in the piglin's eyes that burned brighter than any fire ever could, shimmering farther than any effervescent lava could. His voice shook when he fumed, "Quit staring and say something!"        His prayers were left to drift above in wait for a response, because the only one that he did get was for the eburnean to simply stare at the opposite wall. It was only a few seconds after when he looked down to Techno's eyes in delayed reaction, causing his own to widen with the same petrification that was frozen onto Tommy's face from a frore nobody else on the server had ever experienced.        Technoblade's next movements were mere whispers when he removed his hands, stepping back from Tommy as though he were the monster that he had unleashed from Pandora's box.        He didn't even flinch.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."        "You didn't warn me."        "Michael is gonna kill me for leaving him alone with Tommy again."        "I'm sure he can handle a few minutes. He can handle seeing his uncle stab himself with a thumb tack in the thumb. ...Too far?"        "..."        The wind that howled through the tundra had long drowned out any familiar crackling from flames surrounded by brick and stone, and the remembrance shunned away any further cold that had nipped at him that his vest couldn't protect him from. The gentle sting of the air against his eye socket was uncomfortable, but the icicle-shaped arrow that hit him through the heart still left him frigid. He had declined any attempts at apologies, and still Tubbo was conflicted on whether the lie would be a better sentence to hear or if it would only bring him more misery. The truth that hit him full force before still left him winded, and the cold in contrast helped him to keep his breathing steady despite how it tried to claw away the oxygen from his lungs. If the Blade beside him was having the same difficulty, he was having no difficulty in hiding his shivers, either.        Tubbo's words came in the form of a visible breath of air. "Puffy said to just leave him alone; let him figure it out himself. He can't do that when Dream's out there."        "Did you see him out there?" the pink-haired male questioned.        "He isn't dead, so probably not."        Again Technoblade hummed, and it was glass against the strained hearing that a firework had once broken through. He stopped and turned to him with a newfound fury not unlike the one the piglin had carried minutes before. "You know damn well that this wouldn't be happening if you didn't break him out. Fuck your favors. Was putting Tommy through death a hundreds times and back a part of the fine print? Because if that's so hard to read, then maybe you deserved to be in that prison of a place for three months."        Techno remained stoic. "I'm a man of my word, Tubbo. I can't leave a man who saved my life on his own will to die when he needed me."        "He didn't need you to save his ass, you son of a bitch. He was perfectly fine rotting in there like he fucking deserved, and now he's going to make us pay for his stupidity now that he's out! How can you even live or sleep at night knowing that he's out there because of you? You don't know what it's like to be targeted by him. You don't know what it's like for him to be scared shitless knowing that that bastard is out there on the hunt for him. He could be after me next. What will you do then? Are you going to make it up by saving my ass, too? Because if that does end up happening, I'll let you know right now that I'll be more than glad to call on you to help me kill the man that started all this."        "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."        The pause that cut through the air split the world apart, and the snow beneath them covered the grass that once rested. It, too, had lowered to a hush in anticipation. What quiet ensued neither knew was an invitation for the other to go on or from the lack of words. The clouds of mist that emitted gently from their faces with each seething, chattering breath arose into the air to await further instruction.        "I'm sorry. And the only reason I say this is because, when you say that you're sorry, you won't do it again. Tommy and Michael aren't the only ones that we lost. You weren't there to see it, but it wasn't fun, Tubbo. I have people that I miss, too. By my blade or not.        "We aren't pals like you think we are. We've talked about this. I don't forgive him, and he doesn't forgive me. I realized what he was trying to do too late. You aren't the only one who got the messages."        A feeble bray left the brunette, silencing anything that tried to exit Techno's mouth beyond this. "So what do we do? Nature takes too long. It's been over a month, and he only started to move and do basic things on his own a few weeks ago. Regeneration hasn't done shit. Health hasn't done shit. I can't do shit."        "So then why are you the only person he reacts to? Puffy didn't tell me otherwise."        Tubbo didn't try to say anything more. Denying the truth never felt more like climbing a mountain than it did now. "I don't know, Techno. I can't even ask him to find out."        "Well... he can move on his own, can't he? There's gotta be something that you can do. I'm not the Tommy expert here."        "What makes you think I am?" asked Tubbo with a hint of desperation.        Technoblade raised an eyebrow, and the sheep groaned in an internal agony. "Alright, alright, I get it! So then I find out how to get through to him. When he does talk, what do I say? Will that fix everything?"        "I'm not Puffy, Tubbo."        "What does that have to do with anything!?"        "I'm not your therapist, Tubbo."        Any beads of water that tried to prick at his eye were frozen in time before they fell, and the crystal shards drifted to the ground as slowly as the other frozen crystals that drifted down to only accumulate more. The thought of empty eyes watching them from afar made Tubbo shiver. Technoblade let out a sigh. "This is why I'm not good at heartfelt things... look, Tubbo..."        "I thought you weren't my therapist."        "Oh, yes, Tubbo. Excuse me for trying to comfort my friend that just told me off for returning a favor."        The attempt at a kick to the shin was easily deflected, but the sheep wasn't deterred. "I'm getting there. Give me a second. Okay... aheh, wait. Wait... okay."        "Since when were we friends?"        "Bruuh."        "..."        "Since I wanted to get rid of Dream, too," said Technoblade softly, the tone landing on the snow.        The snowflakes stopped falling, freezing in place from what was spoken with the confidence of a ruler sending his troops to their demise.        Tubbo balked. "What?"        "Now, he's no government nor is he a part of one. I don't think, anyway. But if this man has more power than me and uses it to terrorize the entire server like it is one... if he does decide to set up one, it'll be hard to take him down. The whole server has already tried, and you saw how that went."        "Because of you."        "Because of him," Techno defended. "I've done a lot of things people don't agree with, but I don't spawn withers for no reason. I don't take kindness and loyalty and not return it. Dream gave me one of them, and I gave him the other. He messed up what I wanted, and I think it's only fair to mess up what he wants."        "He's already gotten it, Techno," said the shorter. The crack split through the air, making all of the snow in the sky accumulate on his shoulders. The frozen water was suffocating. "Go look at him again. Maybe you'll see after a second glance."        "I don't want to see him any more than you do," said Technoblade, taking Tubbo by surprise. "Not until I see change. I'm not the one that can fix that. Either way, he's not the only person he's gotten to. There's still one more left; he's told me ten hundred times. Well... more like forty, give or take, but it's the same person. I don't want to be the responsibility of two orphan children."        Tubbo's tail hung low as did his head when he hugged himself, his hands holding his arms as they crossed. He brayed slowly, hesitating. "Those are some bold words, Boss Man. He's stronger than everyone."        "And Technoblade never dies. I think we're even."        Tubbo huffed curtly, forcing his eyes to meet Techno's. It was common to see them not filled with bloodlust, something which Tubbo couldn't be more thankful for than he was now. "I think Philza's growing on you."        "I'm just not ready for the responsibility. I'd still have an old man to take care of either way. I have a family of my own to take care of."        "Steve?"        "Steve."        A melancholy laugh left the honey-streaked brunette, vaguely aware of the sun that tried to illuminate what it could despite the curtain of clouds that obscured it from meeting the ground. "I should probably get back to him. He's going to be worried that it took me an hour to deliver each potion," said Technoblade as he scratched the back of his neck.        "He'll understand," eased Tubbo with a nonchalant shrug.        "That I was being soft? Tubbo... Tubbo, please. I can't let him have this."        "Give it here, then. I'll find a place."        The potion exchange was made in silent, each glass bottle placed easily within Tubbo's inventory slots. Even after the brief exchange, neither were phased by the same silence that sank into the snow. It was a rare feeling, but now he felt the confidence he needed to dust off the snow that covered the precariously placed path. The chill still sank in despite the roof, and this time, it didn't take too much thought to imagine that a wooden one was over their heads.        The sound of steps that began to trail away left him with a hollow feeling that was foreign. He knew what it was, which didn't ease the pain. The snow had been shaken off of his shoulders but he was still left in a stupor, the gears of his mind louder than being the victim of a lightning strike. He wanted to wish that it kept him paralyzed. Would that make him selfish?        "Techno?"        "Yeah?" said the blade as he stopped, turning halfway to peer over his shoulder. Even from here Tubbo could see himself being scrutinized, and the knowingness that his mind was now open didn't leave him as fearful as it had once been.        When his nod was returned the two shared a smile before continuing to part ways. The quiet was calming, and the world continued to spin.

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Do you love a feral Tubbo? I love a feral Tubbo, so let's have a feral Tubbo. He needs some comfort so let's give him some comfort.

Didn't think I'd be writing a Techno-Tubbo interaction, but I'm not complaining! they both have their similarities and differences, so now that they're just about neutral in canon, I'm stealing this boat and driving it into the sunset. They've got their quarrels but they've got their commons.

Before I end it off here, I want to thank you all again for so many kudos' and hits. It's amazing to see just how many people I've made happy and that enjoy my work, as well as simply taking the time to read this. You all are amazing, and I don't plan to stop doing my best anytime soon, either.

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Eburnean!Tommy AU belongs to blublu_by.

Any similarities between this work and another are purely coincidental; everything written here comes from my own mind, and any inspirations taken will be listed within the notes of the corresponding chapter. Please contact me if there is an issue that can be resolved relating to this.

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

Currently batting around the idea that Silco is biromantic gray/ace or demisexual that prefers to give than receive. Like sex is sort of whatever to him, a function other people do that he’s rarely interested in because all of his libido is dedicated toward Zaun. Man has the sex drive of a tired parent lmao. He’s not disgusted or repulsed by sex—it’s something that in the right contexts he could allow himself to make jokes about if he has that sort of reporte with someone, it just doesn’t have the same draw or allure as it used to when he was younger.

Buuuuuuuuuuuuut…I do see two sexual versions of him, they being:

1) Hella Dark Silco

I can only describe it as a(n abusive) dominating streak triggered by anger, when someone who he knows is sexually attracted to him is being a pain in his ass by challenging his authority or being insubordinate in a way that gets under his skin that he needs to correct it. I will be generous and say Silco had a light Brat Tamer bent Before the River, but that playfulness was killed alongside his tolerance for bullshit that night. Now, he takes smartass challenges to his authority from everyone but Jinx as a threat and a dare for him to do something about it, and he does so with the same energy as a kid who chucks ice and rocks at peoples’ heads during a snowball fight. He does not want a repeat of the behavior, and he does enjoy instilling lessons in people with a finality that brooks no further discussion. He gets off on the control, of getting someone with a strong will to admit defeat and be pacified, to recognize him as both their torturer and salvation. He admires spirit, but he wants it to be channeled properly, i.e. not to his detriment. And admittedly he’ll repeat the lesson as many times as needed before it finally sinks in. He’s patient in that sense, but he is so effective that he is confident that his punishments will work after only being used once or twice for that offense. He wants them to think twice before they decide to, wants them to remember what his lesson felt like, and then back away from the edge because they do not want to displease him. Obedient. Mindful. Loyal. And to this Silco’s credit, he’s not going to split hairs unnecessarily and look for an excuse to torment someone if they are genuinely trying to behave, but he expects them to learn from past mistakes and not repeat them. And yes, he does reward good behavior, but it’s going to happen sparingly and when it’s least expected it and never at another’s request unless they get really good at begging and looking pitiful and hopeless.

2) Light

Soft Silco. A man that is respectful, gentlemanly, quiet, thoughtful. Very Pride and Prejudice. Definitely holds hands during missionary sex. Absolutely no choking. The sort of man that will remain inside a person after coming to enjoy the heat of them a little while longer. Sexily smokes a sweet-smelling herbal cigarette once he’s done. Almost always wakes his partner up with teasing touches that often go nowhere. Can last a loooooong time holy shit. Kisses on the back of the hand sort of shit. Loves to have his thigh or knee ridden while he’s sitting at his desk. Soft, knowing looks. Protective, but also trusting of them being able to keep out of trouble, because he WILL get angry if they go off and do something stupid. Really angry. A whole lecture complete with him requiring a three page essay called “Why I Will Never Do That Again” on his desk by morning. Will follow up with ‘I am angry-resentful-worried-angry-relieved’ sex. Unapologetically blind to his love’s glaring flaws [Will Smith presenting.jpg], “I don’t see what the problem is” even when someone gives him a 20 slide powerpoint of what exactly the problem is. Pillow talk is limited because he likes to move after sex and do something productive. Will not be able to convince him to shirk his work for sex. He’s firm about not indulging himself like that, and until Zaun is independent he is not going to settle for a peaceful domestic life like Vander did.

In both cases, cheaters, liars, and betrayers are turned over to Singed for vivisection and important medical experiments. So don’t fuck it up! :D