#gotta love trigger happy companion

[shatinn]

Fallout 4 - Deathclaw

I guess we keeping the egg then. Love you, you trigger happy tin man.

[spicyclover]

No one can hurt you

Summary : A dinner of revelation and tragedy.

Hope you’ll enjoy it. Let me know in the comment section.

Thank you! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

DISCLAIMER : Rewrite and final version of "All the things you said" | Netflix show: One Day at the Time | Elena’s Story part | Season 3, ep 2.  WARNING: mention of physical and verbal aggression! Su*c*de WARNING !R@PE! WARNING: mention of SU*C*DE WARNING TOUGH CONTENT, BE AWARE

DISCLAIMER:  This story is fiction and has no correlation with reality. All site names making acts, violence or any other type of aggression are used for artistic purposes, and they did not commit those acts

If you need help. Please get help. You are loved, and your life is valued. Even if you don’t see it, you are loved.

The Monaco Grand Prix is in a few days and you will be slowly preparing for tonight’s dinner. Charles decided to organize a small evening for the pilots and their respective companions. It is in a magnificent hotel overlooking the sea that Charles booked the room and privatized the chef of the restaurant. The luxurious life of Monaco in its greatest fullness, you are always amazed by all the secrets that this small principality shelters.

You were third-wheeling your best friend Heidi to that party. She and Daniel invited you after running into you in the afternoon at the marina. Since you were little you know most of the pilots. So you are happy to have been invited to celebrate this new year of racing in Monaco with them. The evening was going well until the subject of the conversation crumbled into something darker.

“I gotta admit, I’m getting kind of confused.” Ends up saying, Checo rubbing his nose with his glass. 

“Oh, my god, me too. What if someone says, “I am not sleeping with you tonight?” And then... an hour later, they’re like, “Eh, fine.” What’s that?” Ask Lando, completely confused. 

“Unsurprising,” Pierre whispers under his breath, laughing. You laugh at with him, ignoring Lando's thunder.

“How many women have said, “Eh, fine”?” Questions Heidi sarcastically. 

“Yeah, I got to make some calls.”

“Now I’m perplexed.” Says Max trying to make sense of everything he heard. 

“I know. It’s confusing. I hate to admit it, but I feel sorry for men. This consent thing is tricky.” Kelly responded and gets up to pour herself more wine. 

“No.” You exclaim annoyed by her comment. “Women always blame themselves, and then the man never has to take responsibility. During rape prevention week at the university, all the signs are aimed at women. “Girls, don’t dress provocatively. Girls, don’t walk alone.” How about, “Hey, guys, don’t rape.”" You look up at Pierre knowing perfectly it will trigger him.

“Oh, my god, why are we talking about that? I took a couple pictures as a joke, and Cece thought it was funny.” Pierre exclaims as he gets up from his chair to get himself another beer at the bar. 

“Did she? Or did she feel like she had to laugh ‘cause she doesn’t know what else to do with your hand on her boob?” Everyone around the table falls silent and waits. You get up from your chair and walk you way to Pierre.

“Ok, sweetie, take it easy.” Adds Sebastian taking your arm and tries to calm the conversation.

“No. He thinks what he did is cute. You are basically a predator.” You accuse, pointing your finger at him. 

“You’re basically a psycho.” Pierre replies, knowing full well it will trigger you.

“Good, call me crazy for defending a woman’s right not to be groped!”

“You’re mad ‘cause the internet told you to be. You don’t know my life or even leave this apartment!” Pierre screams as he approaches you.

“Because of guys like you!” You answer with the same intonation. 

“What are you talking about?” Charles asks, taking your hand for you to sit down.

You and Charles are special. You’ve been like ass and shirt since childhood. You’ve known him since you were six. For as long as you can remember, Charles has always been one of your dearest childhood friends. You have shared so much together. No one has ever made you vibrate like he does. Usually his simple touch makes you calmer and reassuring. But you are no longer able to appreciate this contact that you cherish so much.

“You want to know?” You said, scoffing. “Okay. A couple of weeks ago, Heidi and I were coming home from the movies, and we were holding hands. And we noticed these guys staring at us, and then we changed the sidewalks , and they followed us.” You speak with tears in your eyes. 

“What?” Sebastian says concerned in his voice. His turn your body to him.

“Yes. And they were going, “Come one, you guys, kiss. We really wanna see it. Just kiss.” They thought that was really funny, too.” You continue telling while drinking a sip of your glass.

“It was actually terrifying.” Ends up adding Heidi after Daniel stares at her intently. 

“It was terrifying. And then we finally lost them in a crowd and ran home...” You finish in a huff trying to hold back your tears. Your hand hides your eyes and you try at best to find your calm.

Charles, in his divine goodness, hastens to extinguish you warmly. At first, his touch hurts you and you have only one desire to remove his hands from your dirty body. Yet you cling to him like a lifeline. Deep down, you know it's time. Time to tell what happened that night, a year ago. Nobody dares to speak at your revelation and everyone feels guilty for not knowing sooner.

“Umm... Last year after the Monaco Grand Prix. Lance Stroll raped me. He was my friend, and he raped me in my own bedroom. And then, he threatened me not to tell anyone... but. Why did he do this?” You ask breaking down in tears. “Sorry, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what... I feel.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Sebastian asks tenderly, approaching you rubbing his hand on your back. 

“I tried, but... nobody listened to me.” You respond looking at Lando through your tears. Your eyes pierce Lando’s being. He doesn’t know where to put himself and his cheeks become red. He implores you to keep your mouth shut, but the situation no longer belongs to you. You feel the body of Charles being redeemed against yours and you notice that he followed your gaze.

“You knew.” He accuses Lando turning his attention abruptly towards him.

“I... I.” He tries to defend himself. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Oh, you think she knew what to do either.” He yells, getting up from his chair and grabbing him by the collar. 

“Charles, let him go!” Orders Carlos. 

“You let her suffer silently when you knew what he did to her. I thought you were better than this. T’es qu’une grosse merde.” You’re a piece of shit

“Oh please, like you would have done something? We all know he’s untouchable and has done it before.” Admitted Lando, pushing Charles away. 

“What?” Sebastian speaks up. This is the first time he has heard this from his former teammate. He never thought he would ever see Lance in this light.

“Nothing.” 

“It’s nothing? He raped her, and now other girls too?” Charles advances again, preventing him from fleeing the situation.

“Don't play fouls, Charles. You were in his hotel room at the party in Abu Dhabi last year, and I quite remember your hands on some teenage girls, groping them.” He said suddenly, pushing Charles out of his way again.

“What?” You speak up, troubled by Lando's affirmation.

“It’s not what it looks like.” Charles turns to you, trying to explain himself. You get up from your chair and walk back as you see him approach.

“Don’t touch me.” You say, pushing him away. “Did you do it?”

“I... It’s not the same thing.” He justified himself.

“Yes. It actually is. Did you grope those teenage girls or worse raped them?” You ask scandalized. Charles, your best friend, your confidant, the one you most trust is capable of the same thing as the person who hurt you the most.

“Oui,” he admits in a small voice. “I didn’t want to.”

“You didn’t want to? What the fuck, Charles. What's wrong with you all?” You yell, taking your stuff and leaving as fast as possible. 

The thought of all this happening to so many more makes you sick. How could nobody speak up about this? You walk down the hotel hallway. You can hear footsteps and Charles's voice telling you to come back. When you get to the lobby, you ask for a taxi home. Tears fall down your cheeks, and you look at him as you push the door out. 

You take your taxi and give him your address. All you want right now is a shower. A warm and reassuring shower. To pull away all those memories and thoughts. You want to scream to the world. You want to smash your entire apartment down. You want to stay in bed for the rest of your life. You want to jump off the roof. You want to cut yourself so that the pain stops. You want to be set free.

You arrive at the complex. Your dark thought runs in circles in your head. Like a robot, you open the door, press the elevator, and finally unlock your apartment. You let your essentials fall on the ground with your bag and coat. Like a machine, you take your shoes off and open the lights. 

The sight of your home, which does not feel like home anymore. Since Lance pushes himself into you while you try to make him go away, this place hasn’t felt like home. You can’t even sleep in your own bed anymore. No matter how many times you clean the sheets, change the bed. This memory comes running back into your mind. Invade you like a parasite. 

You go to the bathroom and open the valve to fill the bathtub. You watch the water. You can hear your phone blowing up with notifications and calls. “Why does this world have to be this cruel?” You think, taking your clothes off. 

Your body envelops itself in the heat of the water, and you close your eyes. Your body slips in the bath. You head underwater. You hear focusing on your heart bit. You enjoy this moment of quietness and solitude. 

That’s it. You feel alone since that night he took your joy, your life, yourself. 

You can feel the water pressure you to gasp for air. Your head starts popping your blood. Your heart rises to find oxygen. You struggle. You have been struggling this long. You want to go, and you want to let go. 

You let the water go in, and suddenly, all the scary parts disappear. The explosion in your head fades away, and you’re not scared anymore. You find it relatively peaceful. Very peaceful. 

Strangely, you’re dreaming. Him with you. On a boat. Feeling the breeze in your hair. The warm sun on your skin. His light touches on your thigh. His breath on your neck. His lips are on your breast. You’re daydreaming. Are you? Is your mind trying to ease the pain in your heart? Is it even the day? 

Then. You open your eyes. You try to scream, but your head is under the water. You feel weak but strong. Sick but healthy. Chaos but at peace. You can feel your body wiggling, but your mind is different. No one can hurt you now. Quietly, your eyelids become heavy again, and what a moment ago hurt you the most now makes you feel good.

The water fills your lungs, and you sink more and more into the darkness. Nobody seems to pull you up. The seconds pass, but you no longer find the courage to go out. The bathtub disappears, and you find yourself in the sea. In a warm and welcoming sea; The Mediterranean. An infinity of blue. An infinity of sweetness. The noises are only deaf sounds, and you feel your brain more and more calm. The sun’s rays pass through the water, and you move further and further away from it. Your eyelids become more and more stretched.

Then you see beautiful blue eyes through the water. No fair. You can’t reach them but can’t stop staring at those ocean-blue eyes. Suddenly, you feel scared. Scared to leave those ocean eyes. You’re afraid, and you’re drowning under the waves of words you haven’t said to them, to you. 

You try to fight back this peaceful state, but darkness is an easier path than light. Suddenly the silence suffocates you, and you miss the sound surrounding you. 

Then comes the darkness.

When you leave the apartment, Sebastian watches Charles running after you. He can’t believe what has happened. He doesn’t want to consider it. How could he? He sees and goes to the door, and Charles is defeated on the ground. He passes by without a look and walk his way to the lobby. 

You have always been a fragile child. Even when you were a child. You were always this little fragile and precious porcelain doll. You’ve never been afraid of anything growing up. Sebastian always loved to see you grow up with him. Despite your age difference, he always considered you his little sister. The little one who needs to be protected from everything and at any cost. Knowing that you are suffering so much hurts him.

In the hallway, the walk seems long and endless, his thoughts wandering toward your shared memories. He remembers many summers spent in the countryside. At your grandparents' meadow, there was a vast field with a few horses grazing on the fresh grass. He remembers that beautiful-eyed little girl running in his direction.

You had dirt all over your clothes. Your hair was braided, and he still remembers the grass sticking in it. He remembers your laughter, which lit up the prairie thousands of miles away. Hearing you laugh has always been his favourite thing about you. Lost, it’s only when the doors block his way out that he remembers he has to go looking for you. He runs through the night towards your apartment.

Charles is devastated. Everything he tried to build with you has just broken in a moment. He feels lonely and ashamed. He wants you to know how much he loves you. How much you mean to him. How much you have become the center of his universe.

Before you, there was racing, and that was it. When you became something more his life change. It was as if you had lit the dormant fire in him. You have extinguished the flame since the death of his best companion, his father. You have given meaning to this quest. The stakes are not won but won for you.

He still remembers the first time he took you to his garage. You were with Sebastian. He was showing you around the Ferrari factory, showing you the different facilities, different parts. You were so captivated by his words, and your eyes were shining like stars in the sky. 

He remembers the moment when your eyes landed on him. The smile you had, and the dress you wore and the clip in your hair. He counts you. Unable to say anything. Captivated by your beauty.

“Hi, Charlie.” You said in your beautiful voice. 

He stuttered and blushed heavily. You laughed gently before putting your lips on each of his cheeks. He likes a kiss, and no, he likes your kisses. 

A hand falls on his shoulder, and he sees Pierre. Tears in his eyes prevent him from distinguishing himself perfectly, but he recognizes his friend.

“Don’t worry. She’ll come back.” He says softly. Taking him by the shoulders to lift him up and bring him back to the room. 

The others are still there. Confused and shaken, no one speaks. Silence reigns in the room, and no one knows what to say. Charles opens the patio door and leaves the fresh night air in the room. The city slowly began to calm down, and he heard the waves regularly hitting the harbour.

Daniel gets up and gets rid of the table. Putting this party away may make us forget the events that occurred. Heidi and Kelly help him while the others put orders in the room. No one dares to go to see Charles.

The hour passes quickly, and some decide to leave. They quickly greet the last remaining. Pierre observes his friend, who has not moved, and still looks at the sea.

It’s only when Charles' phone starts ringing that he looks away. He calmly enters the room and answers.

“Hello?”

You always liked the fields. You always loved hiding in the big wheat fields surrounding your grandparents' house when you were little. This stretch of yellow was as far as the eye could see. You liked feeling the stems between your fingers, the seeds melting to your touch, and the particular smell of wheat.

You remember a hot summer day. Lying on a tablecloth after a picnic, nature calms by this overwhelming heat, especially the calm of this yellow and green nature. You remember the farmer who held the farm. You spent days watching him working. Helping him through the mould. Watching him turn wheat powder into cereal. You remember this great man, always with a grain of wheat in his mouth that was constantly chewing.

You remember the hum that bees made at work. From wheat to wheat, pollen is harvested. You remember the nests in the hives that you created one summer. Your grandfather, with his jumpsuit, would go every morning and inspect the nests, and you loved watching him do it. You also loved to taste honey with each harvest. Honey is good. It’s sweet. It’s sweet. It’s wild.

You remember Sebastian. His blond hair, his smile, the sound of his kart engine. Many hours passed in his company at the track with his dad. You remember your big brother, following him and Sebastian all day long, like the annoying little sister you were. You remember falling from a tree after the boys thought it was a great idea to climb it. You see your brother jumping down the tree to get to you and hear Sebastian running back to the house to get help. You spent the night at the hospital. You broke your arms that summer, and you had a commotion. Your parents were furious and punished your brother for the rest of the vacation. 

You remember your first winter in the mountains. Mornings skiing, and afternoons making snowmen, eating maple syrup, drinking hot chocolate, just playing in the snow. See your happy brother’s face after he managed to get the last pancake.

You remember Sebastian’s victories. To see him move up from category to category. You remember his encounter with Hanna. You love Hanna. She is so sweet and kind. You remember your great jealousy towards her from the height of your twelve years. She who steals your Sebastian. She who steals your second brother. Oh yes, you were jealous, but she knew how to win your heart, and after all, she stayed.

You remember the Ferrari years. Everyone was in red. You saw the world with red glasses. Red like love. Red like anger. Red as the colour. Red as blood. It’s kind of at this time, when adolescence really starts that you start to change. Physically, mentally, and spiritually, you were no longer the wise little girl your parents admired and your brother despised. No, you grew up making mistakes, a lot of mistakes, until you met him.

Him. The golden boy. The one destined to be great.

You remember his perfume, his smell, his laughter, his mimics, his way of speaking, his way of being and his way of simply being. He intimidated you so much; this guy was destined for something big. Whereas you, we never expected much from you besides being pretty, lovely, not disturbing, quiet, and reserved.

Quiet. 

Reserved. 

Pretty. 

In those words, your brain falls into the dark side of your life. The darkened side of time. Painful and unhappy memories. The memories of him, the one who once was your best friend. He who once was your confidant. He who once saw fit to r*pe you.

To find you after the Grand Prix, in your apartment, in your house, in your home. To be a little too drunk, surely. To hold you firmly. To put his lips on yours. To hold your wrists. To put all his weight on your body. To force you into bed. To beg him to stop. To cry in silence. To feel it in you. To feel dirty. To feel unloved.

To feel alone, so lonely, too lonely. 

To find yourself curled up in a ball in a corner. To wait until morning for him to leave. To want to end your life. To end your nights. To seek help. To be abandoned. To be alone. To be dirty. To be silent. To be reserved. To be pretty.

To be pretty. 

To be pretty. 

To be. 

Silent is all you ask for. 

It’s been a long night. The hours have been staggering. The noises of monitors, nurses, doctors, and ambulances invade their ears. No one speaks, and no one dares speak. It is as if a white veil covers the weighing atmosphere and borrows all those present.

The wait is long, too long. They wait patiently for the outcome of this atrocious night, something that does not happen. Sebastian holds his head in his hands, tears have finished flowing, but his eyes are still red. He feels bad. He feels immense guilt. This mixture of shame, sadness, contempt and anger is eating him increasingly as the hours pass and pass before his eyes. He blames himself for not coming sooner. He blames himself for not holding you back. He blames himself for not seeing. He blames himself.

Full of life and ardour, this little girl was smothered under this icy water. Frozen in time. Only the repetitive sound of drops escaping from the pipe disrupted this freezing scene. She hides all her problems behind her smile. Never in his life has he thought of having this vision of you. This pure horror vision of an act yet so courageous. Because it takes courage to think about yourself before thinking about others. It takes courage to put yourself forward and not others. It takes courage to achieve what others have likely failed to achieve.

The roar of the machines stifled Charles. He closed his ears in the hope of silencing them. To see you with your tubes hanging around you, in you. On this hospital bed, this white bed, this room that feels the end. Eyes wet, Charles looks at your pale, serene face. The doctor’s words are dry and not encouraging. Your parents arrive a few hours later, a flight later. They cry. Your brother has tears in his eyes. Sebastian collapses in a corner. Hanna is there; a veil of sadness covers his eyes. Heidi cries in the arms of Daniel, who looks again in the eyes of Charles. Charles holds your hand, your hand. Your hands are cold, frozen by the consequences. Lando doesn’t dare to come in. He feels guilty because he refused to believe you, to reach out to you, see you, and see your distress. He preferred to become blind rather than awake. It haunts him.

Charles, sitting next to you, is watching people walk by. To say goodbye to you, goodbye, forever. He doesn’t want to. He can’t. You’re still breathing. Your heart is still beating. So why do you have to leave? Why did you choose to go?

“Why?” He mumbles one more time, his head against your ear. “Why are you not fighting?” 

“Cha... we have to go.”

“No... I-I-I can’t. I can’t leave her.” His voice breaks in a sob.

“Charles,” Pierre says, putting a comforting arm on his shoulder. “Let her go.”

“No...” Charles pushes him away, gripping your hand tighter. “She’s going to survive. She’s going to live. She has to live. You have to live.” He prays, kissing your cold skin.

Pierre sight and get out of the room. His family, her family, his friends, and her friends are here waiting for him. The visiting hours are almost over. Everyone wants to go back to their house and sleep a bit. They haven’t slept all night. Charles hasn’t slept all night. Pascale enters the room quietly. Staring at his son. 

“Charles. We need to let her rest. Will come back in the morning, d’accord mon bébé?” She says, taking him in her arm. 

He acquires at her request despite himself. Unable to fight anymore, fatigue slowly eats him away, and he knows that he is of no help if he is exhausted. He leaves the room not without a last kiss, a last look, a last goodbye.

On the following day, Charles came. Staying for hours next to you. Stroking your hair, mumbling your name, praying for you to wake up. He can't take you out of his brain. He can't take you out of him. You're haunting him. We realize how important it is in our life when we lose someone we take for granted. Charles looks at you as a friend until he realizes he loves you. Is it too late? Were you supposed to be?

Sebastian came a few times, only a few minutes. He can't unseen what he saw. He plays and plays the night in his head over and over again. Wondering what he could have done differently.

The doctors are not really optimistic about your recovery. Your body is tired. Your mind is exhausted. They did all they could do. All we have to do is wait. Wait for you to come back. Wait for you to fight for your life. How could you fight if you're not even awake? It's painful.

Strangely enough, he came. The rapist. The abomination of your life. You came late at night when everyone left. He felt bad. "It's too late to feel bad," you think when you feel his hand and you. You wanted to cry, to scream, but nothing. He left shortly after. Looking at you one last time. Looking at what he did to you. You hear from Lando a few days later that he got arrested. Other girls spoke, and there were enough accusations to start a trial. Even more strange, it did nothing to you. Well, how could you feel? When he toked everything you got and smashed it in a million pieces?

Sometimes, you can feel the warmth of the afterlife tingling your skin. You feel it right near you, calling you. Calling you to answer the call. You want to feel this feeling of peace, this quietness. You don't know how to feel. You just want to float. You forgot how to be happy. How to be. Why fight if you may never find yourself again? What were you made for? You wonder to yourself.

Time flies. A couple of weeks passed. You made some improvements for the doctors to feel optimistic for you to wake up eventually. You're stabilized by all those machines. Your parent finally arrived a few days after you were admitted. You can feel your mother's tears on your cold hands and the soft kisses of your father on your forehead. You can smell the sunflower Heidi brought you every time she comes to see you. Sometimes you want to react. To show her you listen. But you can't. Or you don't want?

The feeling of loneliness passed. You can see now how much you're loved. How they love you. You love to hear Arthur talking about your favourite series. You love to hear Sebastian remembering childhood moments whenever he found the courage to come. You love to listen to your mom singing your favourite songs. You love to hear Daniel telling dad jokes, hoping you'll smile in your sleep. You love hearing Lando talking about his latest Quadrant adventures or Twitch lives. You love to listen to Charles saying how much he loves you. How much his life is plain without you. You can't imagine somebody else cared so much about you.

That makes you cry. You can't show them you can hear. You can't show them you love them too. You can't show them how grateful you are or will be. More time passed, and the more you could slowly feel you were losing yourself. All you need to do is happen your eyes, but for some reason, it seems an impossible task to do.

"This is impossible," Alices says in disbelief at the creature rising upon her.

"Only if you believe it is." The hatter whispers, scared of the outcome of all this adventure. But wasn't this all the point of this madness?

"Sometimes, I believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

"That is an excellent practice." The hatters says. "However, just now, you might want to focus on the Jabberwocky."

"Six impossible things. Count them, Alice. One, there's a potion that can make you shrink. Two, and a cake that can make you grow. Three, animals can talk. Four, Alice, cats can disappear. Five, there's a place called Wonderland. Six, I can slay the Jabberwocky."

You feel yourself falling into the rabbit hole, and you have been in Wonderland all this time. That's it! You can do it. Six impossible things before breakfast.

"One, you will get a major in architecture."

"Two, you can drive an F1 car."

"Three, you can be happy again."

"Four, Y/n, there's a place for you in this universe."

"Six, I will fight for my life."

At this, though, he feels darkness rising upon you. Everything fades away slowly. You can hear the constant beep of the machines around you. You can feel Charles's hands against yours. You can smell the hospital room you're in. You can see the light shutters again you close your eyes.

Then... you breathe.

Feeling the grass on your feet. The autumn breeze cools down your spine. For the first time, you appreciate being alive. To fill your lungs with air, to hear the water crash against the rocks, to feel the sun warm up your skin, and to taste food again.

You feel a hand around your waist, and Charles brings you closer to him. He sticks you to his bare chest. He holds you firmly for fear that you will disappear again. It makes you smile to see him so loving, so gentle, and so attentive. You turn your gaze from the blue horizon to meet his emerald eyes. He smiles tenderly. His eyes sparkle with a thousand lights when you return his smile. You hold these eyes a few moments before you look wandering towards his lips.

If only it could be true.

If only you could be with him.

______________________________________________________________

Hi! Hope you enjoy this final version of the story. It took me sometimes to get back to writing but I'm getting there. I know some of you really like it and it's fill my heart with joy <3

Tag List : tyna-19 dessxoxsworld ynbutbetter alexander-hamilhoe honethatty12 janeholt3 mloyer karmabyfernando omgsuperstarg laura-naruto-fan1998

[luxsea]

🤝 nothing bad will ever happen if we never finish the game (i did as many side quests n stuff as possible in ffxv before triggering the second act because i didn't want anyone to die 👍 HASJHSJAAH)

UGH THIS IS SO REAL🤝 i'm also a stickler for side quests, i gotta do every single possible thing before proceeding the main quest (playing in this order actually caused a bunch of characters i wanted to save to die in my game dksjfnkj?? 😢) so i made my character's personality super "fuck around and find out" to fit my completionist play style :')

(bg3 spoilers for karlach under read more just in case :3)

but ugh the thing about karlach being my absolute favorite, like i dont think i've been this deeply moved by a character in a long time, is that her good ending was scrapped from the game! and i found out this spoiler mid romancing her, i went thru every stage of grief!! I MADE A DIVORCE PLAYLIST. the writing handles her processing her inevitable death really well, like inspiring so, it's an incredibly heartbreaking but realistic analogy to coping with a terminal illness and how it changes ones outlook on life. she just wants to savor every moment she gets to live now that she's finally free from the war she was forced to fight in for a decade and just wants to focus on doing the things she loves with the time she has left and i love her so much for it. there is no cure sometimes! but she deserves so so much better. it makes me feel very salty bc to my knowledge all the other companions can have a happy ending and the fact that hers was written and considered... and fucking scrapped due to time constraints (from what i know vaguely bc i'm avoiding more ending spoilers) is that the only options for her ending are for her to die violently, become a squid or return to the devil that enslaved her. what the actual fuck. it's really really cruel and would be my characters villain origin story if not for the fact that karlach wouldnt want them to go on a revenge tirade for her sake. *wipes tears*

[caparrucia]

1 and 23

1. favorite fic you wrote this year

The best fic I wrote this year is resurgence (Malos-centric, Malos/Jin, Xenoblade Chronicles 2), which I know is a niche fandom and a niche story, but it's dear to my heart just because it really IS the best thing I've written in quite a while, like prose-wise.

But my favorite fic as far as "this is my baby" feelings, it's gotta be so we made the hard decision (Regis/Aulea/Titus, puppyverse AU, FFXV), which is a fic no one asked for, and therefore not a lot of people cared about, but goddammit, I've been meaning to write about that OT3 for literal YEARS and I finally got around to it. It's my favorite ship and my favorite OT3 dynamic and there's a lot of fun thoughts about disability, polyamory and just a ton of biting from three dysfunctional dipshits that, nonetheless, really fucking love each other. They deserve their happy ending even if their happy ending is full of biting each other til eternity.

I'm currently very happy with maelstrom soul, heart of stone (Zhongli/Childe, dragonheart AU, Genshin Impact) and a lot of it is "current fic" syndrome, but it's shaping up to be one of my favorites, too.

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t

I'm treating this as a haven't yet, as a opposed to a didn't and never will: but there's companion fics for the other Genshin regions, that take place in the sake universe as the Zhongli/Childe fic. I started on the Zhongli/Childe fic, but once I'm done with that one, I'll pick up any of the other four.

The 4ggravate polycule fic I'm really looking forward to, mostly because Wanderer+Kaveh friendship is hysterical and Wanderer accidentally forcing the polycule to include Alhaitham without really realizing that's what he's doing is hilarious. It also includes my favorite scene which is Kaveh wholesale defenestrating Alhaitham right in front of Cyno, who always really thought if he ended up arresting a lover, it'd be Tighnari's ACAB ass.

There's an Inazuma fic I've been chewing on that's mostly Ayato casually dismantling the tricommission system to basically bully Ei to actually do her job and actually fucking RULE for once, and it's mostly a back and forth between him and Yae with the entirety of the Inazuma cast unwittingly or unwillingly playing the role of chess pieces. It also features a really fucking hilarious Ayato/Kokomi political marriage subplot and no one can't tell who started it or if they're pro or against it or if at any given time they're working towards or against it, and it's driving Gorou and Kujo Sara to drink heavily.

I have a few ideas for a Fontaine fic, but I'm waiting for the archon quests to wrap up before I start figuring out where the pieces go. Mostly it's about Neuvillette needing quite a few hugs, Wriothesley and Clorinde being the definition of BBF (Bisexual Besties Forever), Furina getting to be a person and failing miserably before she gets the hang of it and an eventual sappy, ridiculously saccharine Navia/Furina that triggers the "must protect!!!" instincts of anyone who happens upon it.

And there's of course the MondsDONT polycule shenanigans which is halfway done, and it's mostly Diluc navigating the codependant mess that is his partners, their partners, and Venti. Oh god, Venti. Fuck him. It's a mess. Beds are literally set on fire. Twice. It's fine.

[tiredassmage]

4,6,16 for whoever is on your mind

I think we should harass Len. I think we should make him be social. xD

[OCs as NPCs]

4. Where would you recruit them from?

Setting aside considerations of the how, likely Taris or Tatooine - in general, somewhere where the law of the land is a bit more... nebulous, or, at the very least, probably somewhere that's contested. The thick of things is often where the best credits (and best action) are to be found and you're unlikely to find him anywhere else. Unless it's the cantina. Then you could be a fine sport and buy him a drink.

While he definitely runs more freelance these days, you'll still likely find him on Imperial lines. He might've left Black Ops behind, but he's far from having swapped sides.

I suppose as a sort of bonus because I can't quite uncouple the set, regarding 2 & 3, he would absolutely be a class companion (and exclusively an Imperial class, though I'd table considerations for probably any of those 4) and he is not showing up to help you with Zakuul unless you were already acquainted from vanilla. You couldn't pay him enough to cozy up with a bunch of Republic dogs otherwise. Lensan's really ride or die once you actually earn whatever... weird ideas of loyalty he does have, but until then, you're a job and he's just here to punch his ticket and move on to the next one.

He's still gonna gripe your ear off about growing soft or something, but he supposes he'd owe you that much of a favor, after everything.

6. What would be their original recruitment outfit?

Hmmmm. A little tricky since I'm parsing generally without too much thought into exact backstory and how you'd run into him, but I do love any excuse to play dressup with my idiots, lol.

Probably something like so? Len's admittedly a bit reckless and probably doesn't wear nearly the amount of armor you'd think he should for someone who prefers the guns blazing approach.

16. What’s their idle chatter like? Do they talk a lot (when you arrive on each planet) or do they suddenly say something in some strange places?

Probably on the less chatty side. More likely to drop you a random gunslinging tall tales in the middle of nowhere. [Insert Ratatouille "I once killed a man with THIS THUMB"]. He might drop you a war story comment or two at a few of the spaceports based on his service with Imperial Black Ops - likely something when you pass through Corellia about the Empire's mission there. Particularly on Tatooine or Rishi, you might get a comment about swindling some of the locals out in a game of cards and some good drinks - or maybe you should just shoot them? That's faster. Gotta show you mean business, after all.

He's also probably got a smart remark or three for visiting Alderaan's nobility. He prefers action to boring diplomacy, so what dialogue he does give you probably reflects that. xD He's maybe a touch trigger happy, but you've got an image to maintain as some of the biggest badasses in the galaxy, right?

I'd also like to imagine he'd ask what kind of credits you think the Sith are willing to dish out when you pass through the Citadel in Dromund Kaas. "Whatever you're thinking, probably double it. With the right client." It's a little obscene what Imperials are willing to dish out for a professional to keep things nice and quiet. 💅

[goggles-mcgee]

Totally Normal Day At Wayne Enterprises

Doors bust open and men crowd in holding guns. One shouts: "Bruce Wayne's kids! You're coming with us! If you don't, well, me and my boys might just get a little trigger happy."

All the Bat bros just standing there before turning and looking at one another. Tim: "Yeah I have a meeting in ten minutes it's going to have to be just you guys this time."

He turns and hands the closest gunman a card. Tim: "I was hoping I could save that for a day off or something but a CEO never sleeps, right? I'm using my 'Get Out of 1 Kidnapping With No Consequences Card.' Effective immediately."

Criminal #1: "You have got-"

Criminal #2: "Woah, woah, woah, man. That things legit. Every top Rogue signed off on those things like 2 years ago. I didn't think there were any left. I know for sure Riddler discontinued printing them."

Dick: "I knew I recognized you! David right? You were one of Riddler's question dudes! Good to see you got out of that but really, I gotta say man, this seems like a downgrade."

Criminal #2, David, looking embarrassed: "Hey Pretty Boy. I had to leave man, Riddler discontinued giving us "lower level" goons dental and with the amount of times Batman and the Birds show up? It just wasn't worth it."

Dick nodding: "Oh yeah totally understandable. Plus didn't he only give promotions to people who could solve his riddles?"

David now putting his gun down to shake his head in frustration: "Don't even remind me about the stupid Promotion Riddles. Once, our checks were given to us in little locked boxes that could only be opened if we figured out the sliding puzzle on the top!"

Criminal #1: "Goliath...or David...whatever...could you not...y'know, act like this is fucking brunch!? We're trying to kidnap these boys! Get your head in the game!."

Jason, Tim, and Dick snicker. Dick: "Wait Goliath? Is that your new "goon" name because I love it. It's so witty!"

Criminal #1: "Shut it Calvin Klein! Now hands behind your backs! All of you!"

Jason: "Damn dude. You're not much of the romantic type are you? The least you could do is take me out to a nice dinner before you decide to get freaky."

Tim: "You mean everyone except me! I have a card."

Damian: "Todd, what does a fine dinner have to do with your hands being tied behind your back? I fail to see how the two correlate. And if Drake is not being kidnapped then I most certainly will not be kidnapped either. Today I have to restock the animals food."

Criminal #1: "String Bean has a....I guess legit??? It's really legit? Wow...okay....a legit reason to not be kidnapped. And Mini-Me, you need to get food for your pet? You really think that's more important right now?"

Damian: "Of course. I have to buy not only dog food for two big dogs, but cat food, turkey feed, cow feed, and recently I just found and have adopted an injured bat. Bartholomew will require food and other things."

Jason: "Gremlinnnnn, you already named it? B said no more pets!"

Damian: "He is not a pet! He is a companion!"

Dick: "Oh actually Dames, can you get some food for Haley? I brought her down so Bruce could meet her."

David: "Damn....what, do you guys have a zoo somewhere in Wayne Manor?"

Criminal #1: "Not the point Goli-David!.....but yeah....that's a lot of animals."

Jason: "Oh hey, I just remembered, I can't be kidnapped today either, I'm babysitting for Roy tonight. I promised."

Criminal #1: OH COME ON!! This. Is. Not. A. Negotiation. You guys are being kidnapped!"

Tim: "You mean 'you guys' but all but Tim right?"

Criminal #1: "......"

Everyone in the building watching or taking part: "......"

Criminal #1 shaking his head and throwing his hands up in the air: "You know what!? No one is getting kidnapped! No amount of money is worth you guys!"

Criminal #1 turning around and making a circular motion with his finger pointed: "Let's go boys. I need a drink."

Dick: "Bye David!"

David waving before Criminal #1 grabs his hand and pulls him along: "Don't respond David!"

Everyone left in the building: "......."

Jason: "Bets on how long main dude lasts here?"

[oftenderweapons]

Apple Of My Pie (7) — Jin

A Small Town Swoons story 

Chapter 7. 

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Buttercup)

Wordcount: 7.1k words

Genre: non-idol!AU, Baker/Café owner!Seokjin, University student!reader Flatmates!AU, Friends To Lovers, Fluff, slightest angst, smut

Rating: 18+ (NSFW content)

A/N: Hello my sweet poppies! Welcome to the Small Town Swoon Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: Jin and Buttercup finally reunite, and although the real world tries to interrupt their small idyll, Seokjin has the strength to finally impose his needs and confess his feelings. The evening proceeds in the best of ways.

As I mentioned before, this episode made me write things I didn’t know I had in me. Also, this will be the final episode for their storyline, however you will see more of Jin and Buttercup on future stories, mostly in small apparitions here and there. I might come back to this story someday, maybe with some drabbles or some small headcanons, however, I think that now it’s time to let Jin and Buttercup live their special moments with in their own privacy and make up for lost time.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: this is filthy. There’s swearing and light alcohol consumption (wine at dinner, both are pretty sober afterwards). Now, about the filth. Degradation kink, breast worship (involves kissing, licking, biting, grabbing), breast slapping, nipple pinching, one (1) spank, foodplay involving ice cream (so mild temperature play), dom!Seokjin, slightly bratty!reader, grinding, masturbation (both male and female receiving), brief mention of oral (male receiving), cumplay, cumeating, creampie, unprotected sex (please don’t do like them. The right way to go about this would be to use condoms and/or dental dams until you and your partner get the results of the test and are 110% sure you’re clean. If you have any questions, please head to Planned Parenthood’s website, they have wonderful webpages about safe, sane and consensual sex, plus anything you need to keep your sexual health in check. If you can’t check their website, please feel welcome to reach out to me through DMs, I’ll try to help 🥰💜). Also reader is kind of excited about Seokjin being circumcised? And these two have a latent impregnation kink that will show up someday. There are slightly angst discussion about past partners and feelings, but nothing extreme.

Remember to vote for next prompt (check the link in my bio) and in case you need it, here’s my masterlist 💜

In case you need it, here is the music companion

Enjoy ✨💜

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

Seokjin woke up with the ringing of a phone.

He appreciated the warmth and weight next to him, half on top of him.

He looked at you. He allowed himself to do that only for a couple seconds.

Your phone was ringing, and he needed to pick it up before it woke you.

Your face had been so scared and tired when he first saw it at the front door.

He stood and picked up the call just in time.

“Oh, thank God, Buttercup where are you?” Jeongguk’s voice came from the phone.

“It’s Seokjin. She’s with me, at the apartment. She’s sleeping.” He replied, his voice gravelly after being under the cold rain and sleeping for almost two hours.

“She’s with you?”

“Yes, she’s here. She’s sleeping.” Seokjin repeated.

“Kim Seokjin. I am going to kill you!” Yoongi said, stealing the phone from Jeongguk. “We were all looking for her. Poor Jeongguk was in a panic. Are you stupid? Outright dumb? What is it, both your two miserable neurons decided to throw a strike today? Did they accidentally crash and perish? Did they finally decide to end their suffering?”

“Yoongi. Stop,” said Spice from a distance. “She’s safe, stop acting like an overprotective parent.”

“Is she okay? Is she hurt?” Yoongi asked.

“No. I found her here, taking her stuff away.” Seokjin said, his body tensing at the thought. “Is she leaving? What is going on?”

“She’s going to the cottage with Namjoon. They’re leaving on Monday.”

Seokjin rolled his shoulders before exhaling. “How has she been in the last few weeks?”

“A mess. Sad, miserable. And it’s your fault.” Yoongi spoke with vitriolic hostility in his voice.

“I’m gonna fix it, Yoongi. I promise.” Seokjin said, his voice extremely emotional as he looked at you. Your eyes were open and you had the tiniest smile on.

“Are you gonna talk to her? Actually confess? Tell her you love her and be done with all the insecure, selfish bullshit?”

“I’m gonna talk to her.” Seokjin replied, still looking at you. “I’ve got a bunch of stuff to come clear with. And I’ll tell her I’m in love with her. And that she’s not going to Namjoon’s. She’s staying with me.” He winked. “She needs to eat and regain some strength before she goes to the woods, if she still wants to go. I’ll tell her ‘Buttercup, I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for four years.’” His voice broke. “‘I don’t want to spend one more day without you’, that’s what I’ll tell her.”

You were still incredulous, completely still under the blanket.

“And then I’ll ask her to be my girlfriend, and if she turns me down, then it’s alright. I’ll take it like a gentleman. I’ll let her be. But if there’s even a tiny, minuscule part of her that wants to say yes, then I won’t let her go until she agrees to become my girlfriend.” Seokjin explained, with determination filling his voice.

Yoongi got emotional. “Go tell her before you change your mind.”

“She’s right in front of me. She heard every single word.”

“Then I guess you have more important stuff than stay on the phone with me.”

Seokjin chuckled. “Hopefully kiss my new girlfriend, if she lets me.”

You didn’t even understand what was going on before you nodded energetically.

“She said yes. I gotta go.” Jin’s mouth shaped into a large, proud grin.

“Sure. Stay safe. I’m too young to become an uncle.” Yoongi teased with a snicker.

“Goodnight uncle.” Seokjin replied before closing the call.

Your stares stayed locked together as he placed down the phone.

His expression turned serious but kind. “You’re awake.”

You blinked and licked your lips. “I am.” You took a pause, inhaling. “And I want to kiss you.”

He mirrored your action, his tongue slipping out, wetting the seam of his mouth, directing your glance there. “I want to clear things up, before that.”

You closed your eyes, trying not to lose your patience. “What is there to clear up?”

“I just wanted to explain stuff. About Grace and all of the rest...”

From the insecure, agitated look in his eyes, you realised he was scared. You patted the sofa, inviting him to sit beside you. He followed your lead. “I’m listening.” You reassured him, placing your hand on top of his knee.

“When I started dating Grace, I was convinced I could never stand a chance with you. And though Yoongi insisted on the fact that you had feelings for me, I was too shy and too scared to risk it. And after living with you and being so… united. So domestic… I couldn’t handle my feelings anymore.”

You rubbed his arm comfortingly, sitting up, trying to reassure him, to heal him from all those months of insecurities and silence and denial.

“I tried to suppress them. And Grace looked so kind, so respectful. And she’s a beautiful young woman. I could see myself falling for her.”

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder. You still had to realise that such a gesture had a deeper, somehow different meaning, that from then on you were allowed to do that and more.

“But the closer I got to her — and the farther I got from you — the more it all felt wrong. And I don’t even know why I did what I did that Saturday — well Sunday, you know what I mean anyway. I think some part of me was angry because of Edmund or something, or because I thought that I could stop thinking about you if I found someone else to think about and that makes me an absolute idiot—”

You interrupted him. “Don’t hide from me. Ever.” You cupped his face and made him look at you. “You were hurt. And I took similar decisions. What I did with Edmund was somehow similar to what you did with Grace. It’s just that you two had feelings for each other while—” The idea of him being in love with someone else squeezed your lungs until you felt empty.

“I’ve never felt someone as deeply as I feel you, though. I’ve never felt so many things for anyone else beside you.” He said, his eyelashes fluttering as he looked at your lips.

“I love you.” You murmured. There were no other words you could use. “I’m in love with you and I’m not angry that you tried to forget and move on. It doesn’t matter that we fucked or made love to other people. I don’t care that you didn’t tell me. The only thing that matters is that you’re here now and I love you so much.”

He repositioned himself so he could look at you without getting a crick in his neck. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, soft and delicate, worried even.

“Because I couldn’t think about losing you. Because I didn’t even realise I was in love before you started spending time with Grace. Well, I knew I was attracted to you and that I considered you my friend, but I had never really allowed myself to consider I could have more. I was happy with what we had, and I never realised I could lose it, or that someone else could have it instead of me.”

He touched your hair.

“I was okay with what we had. Asking for more felt selfish. Like I was being greedy.”  You lowered your eyes, his gaze too intense for you to resist.

“I want you to be greedy, Buttercup.” He whispered, his hand cupping your jaw. “I want you to take all of me and not leave a crumb for anyone else.” His body felt closer, hotter. “I love you, Buttercup. And not in the friendly way. I love you in a very passionate, very hungry way.” His thumb traced your lower lip as he gazed at it heatedly. “Do you love me too?”

You nodded recklessly, almost snapping your neck. “I love you. In a very unfriendly, very sexy way.”

He smiled. “Good.”

His mouth lowered gently, reaching yours, his whole body inching forward until your eyes lost focus and closed. It was a good kiss. Not perfect but good.

Jin’s lips felt soft against your mouth, maybe a bit too delicate, still, definitely pleasing. With just a pinch of mischief, you pulled at his lower lip lightly, biting it delicately.

The growl he emitted had you smiling before you repeated your teasing move, drawing him in. He exhaled and opened his mouth, sucking your upper lip past his teeth.

That felt better than good, leaning to perfect.

What actually made it perfect was his body completely caving in as he manoeuvred himself on top of you, holding himself up with one hand as his hand explored your body deliciously, caressing your hair, your shoulder before reaching your waist.

Helpless and desperate, you pressed the tip of your tongue against his lower lip, pushing it into his mouth.

His hips pressed sinfully against your thigh as he groaned and tangled his tongue with yours.

You moaned and he whimpered in return, a growl vibrating deep in his throat.

His hand moved under your shirt, stopping abruptly.

Dammit.

Your stomach rumbled noisily, making Seokjin part from you. “You’re really hungry.”

You blushed and looked away. “Yeah.”

He hid his face into your neck, snickering. His breath tickled you. “You feel so good right here.” He said, snuggling closer. “But I have to feed you first.” His fingers dug into your sides. “You’re thin.”

Your nails raked against his back. “I had a bit of a hard time in the last few days.” You mentioned casually.

“Can’t have you like this.” He parted from your body, studying your face attentively. “Let’s get you fed.” He whispered, pecking your lips and standing up, heading to the kitchen.

“You’re kidding, right?” You stood up on wobbly legs and followed him.

He looked back at you. “Not at all.” Jin theatrically opened the fridge and lifted an eyebrow. “Chicken wraps. Salad. An abundant dose of ice cream. I need you sugared up.”

You looked at him with a pout.

“It’s the quickest meal I can arrange, Buttercup. We can have dinner in forty and then cuddle and make out. Dinner is non-negotiable.” He said, getting the chicken strips and the large tortillas, together with cherry tomatoes and cheese.

“Can’t we just… postpone dinner?” You said, too caught up in your grovelling to bring up memories of him and Grace in the kitchen.

“Why would we need to postpone dinner?” He asked, slipping some butter into a pan, together with some garlic, moving the chicken strips onto the pan and roasting them quickly with a random — and a very delicious-smelling — mix of spices.

You dragged your foot against the floor, trying to look demure. “You know why...”

He snickered devilishly. “We’ve waited for four years. One more hour won’t hurt you. Cut the cherry tomatoes, please.”

“Especially because we waited for years we should be forgoing dinner.”

He laughed. “I won’t have you fainting on me. Dinner, then whatever you want, Buttercup. Cut those tomatoes, you’re postponing the fun.” He said, adding a spoonful of chicken broth to keep the meat in the pan soft and tasty.

“Now I remember how insufferable you truly are.” You said, starting with the cutting.

He smirked. “You’re stuck with me from now on, doll.”

“I’m revoking the love declaration.” You muttered.

“Are you revoking your undying lust for me too?” He asked, turning towards you with a lopsided, cocky grin.

You just looked at him with the most insulting look you could muster before returning to the tomatoes.

“Such a good girl. Still cutting those tomatoes to get her reward.” He joked.

Once, this kind of nagging was absent minded, innocent and playful. Now it was outright sexual. Especially since the praise had a shiver running down your spine.

“Don’t tease if you’re gonna make me wait.” You groaned.

He bent and kissed your cheek. “I’m doing it for your good, Buttercup.” He moved to your earlobe. “You’ll thank me later, doll.” He nibbled on the soft skin. “I promise it will feel so good, Buttercup.”

You stretched your neck to the side, offering him the expanse of taut, corded throat.

He grazed it with his teeth, drawing the purple-greenish line of your jugular.

“I bet you taste so damn good,” he murmured, sucking at the base of your throat.

“Jinnie.” You called delicately.

He parted from you abruptly. “Dinner. First, dinner.” He reminded himself. “Dammit, you’re such a tease.” He complained, picking up another larger pan to heat up the tortillas. He also added a light sprinkle of flour to the chicken, to give a creamier texture to the sauce made by the broth and the butter. Once the first tortilla was warm, he placed the chicken on top, mingling it with the tomato pieces and the cheese while you prepared the salad.

Dinner was ready in twenty minutes, the wonderful smell of spices filling your nostrils and making your mouth water as you sat and stared at your tortilla, waiting for Jin to sit down himself. He also added an interesting bottle of white wine to the mix, matching the chicken.

“Enjoy.” He exclaimed before digging in himself.

Your whole mouth was feasting at the taste of the food.

It could feast for something better, your hormones reminded you, but you let that slip.

Dinner was uneventful, the both of you too busy and hungry and tense to start a conversation.

While you were thinking about how to tell Jin you wanted him to ram you into the mattress and slap your tits, he thought whether it was okay for him to want sex already. Okay, technically you had been friends for years, but maybe you wanted to wait, go on actual dates, be a couple, in an official relationship before letting him make love to you.

It was pretty clear that any kind of conversation between such two people would evidently elucidate any semblance of doubt, but it would also be a minefield of misunderstandings and potentially very embarrassing bushes to beat around.

So you both stayed silent, completely oblivious to the lessons you had learned roughly an hour ago.

By the time he stood and prepared a small bowl of plain milk gelato, topped with his special wild berries sauce, doubt had nagged at him enough that he was ready to speak.

He placed the bowl on the table. A lovely royal blue bowl. It was his favourite. Maybe because it was his mother’s favourite. He sat down and patted his hands against his thighs. “Come here.” He murmured.

You obliged, settling on his lap contentedly. He took a spoonful of dessert, making sure that he got some sauce in it before offering it to your awaiting mouth. “Eat up, doll.”

You opened your mouth and enjoyed the refreshing feel of the gelato against your palate.

“I need you to listen to me, Buttercup.” He started. “I know we confessed our feelings and that we’ve been attracted to each other for a very long time.”

You nodded, watching as he offered another spoonful as soon as you opened your mouth.

“I just want you to know that I’m dying to make love to you tonight, but we don’t have to. It’s okay if you want to… I don’t know, get physically intimate a bit at a time, or if you want it to be something special, or—”

You interrupted him. “I want to make love to you too, tonight.”

Your eyes followed him as he licked his lips. “Shall we bring this to the bedroom then?”

Nodding you stood up, going for the living room and grabbing the comforter, walking down the corridor and looking at him from over your shoulder. “What are you waiting for?” You asked before disappearing into his room.

He shook his head in disbelief before grabbing more wild berries sauce. Maybe, hopefully…

He took the bowl of ice cream and a spoon, taking his time before entering his room.

You were already laying on his bed, head to toe a vision.

You had already removed your yoga pants and you were laying there in an oversized t-shirt.

“Tell me how you want me to treat you, Buttercup.” He asked, studying you as he took a mouthful of gelato to his mouth.

“Undress first. Then come here. Feed me that delicious dessert and then feed me your cock.” You said, completely unashamed as his burning gaze explored your naked skin.

“I won’t feed you my cock, sorry doll.” He said, placing the bowl on the nightstand together with the sauce. “I’ll need to suck on your pretty tits first.” He took off his sweater in a flash, your eyes reacquainting with his naked chest, bathing in the glorious width of it. It was really breathtaking, with its plains and slopes and dips.

“You’re gorgeous.” You murmured, looking at him while your hand went to your breast, palming it and teasing the peak while he took off his sweatpants. Watching the delicious shape of him from over his boxers had you moaning just slightly, whimpering weakly before your hand slid under your shirt to grab at your flushed, overheated chest.

Seokjin caught your wrist vigorously, pulling it out. “Those are mine to touch, doll.” He reprimanded you. “All mine.” He repeated, straddling your waist, pinning your hands up.

You looked at him with a wicked smile. This, this, was your best friend, the man you had loved for years. And here he was, pinning your wrists, ready to mark your breasts, to own them.

“Keep ‘em there.” He ordered, letting go of your wrists before stretching his fingers to completely hold your breasts, kneading them lightly to test the texture.

“Fuck, they're so soft.” His eyes closed as he felt them up appreciatively. “I can't wait to suck these.” He said, and his unashamed comment opened another new world to you. His thumbs found your nipples, rolling them under the plush pads of his fingers. “You like this?” He asked, looking in your eyes.

You nodded, stretching toward the bedside table and switching on the small lamp there. “Wanna see you.” You explained, looking at him, waiting for a reaction.

“Are you sure? You okay with me watching?” He asked, just as your eyes closed and your back arched, your breasts pushing against his palms, your throat emitting the shyest moan.

“Oh, you like this a lot, don't you, Buttercup?” He snickered, bending down to kiss your neck. “Let me hear how good it feels, honey,” He murmured, sucking at your skin gently.

“Please, I want my shirt off, Jin.” That's all you managed to say, squeezing your thighs together once you realised he wasn't giving you anything to grind against.

“You want me to touch your naked skin?” He asked, making you grow even more desperate.

“Please. Jin…”

He looked at your face. It was absolutely adorable as it scrunched up in disappointment, a lovely pout making your lips rounder, softer, plumper. He kissed them briefly. “Sit up, lovely. Let's take this shirt off.” He murmured with a deep baritone timbre.

The shirt was gone in a second, his mouth latching on a nipple before you could even take off the shirt completely.

His hips ground against your belly, his erection pressing hard against your navel while you laid back down, his front arching away from you as his mouth stayed attached to your chest.

“Please, gimme…” You tried to speak, needing something to ease the pressure between your thighs, where your throbbing clitoris felt unforgivably neglected.

“What?” He asked, parting from your breast and looking so blissful and confused, like he didn't even know what was going on, like your breasts had given him a total reset and all he could remember, all he could ever want and do was to stay there and suck, completely oblivious to anything but the object of his lust.

“Need you down there,” was all you managed to say, still too high from the promises of pleasure.

He grinned *hazily. “Down where?” He asked, teasing and unforgiving.

You exhaled and whimpered. “I need you between my legs.”

“Between your legs where, Buttercup? Don't be shy.”

At that you snapped. “If you intend to keep sucking my nipples could you please kindly press your thigh against my clit? I need to grind on something and you're being too fucking uncooperative.”

He laughed almost hysterically. “Of course, Buttercup. See, was it so hard to ask?” He commented, almost too patronising.

“You're making me want to shut your mouth.” You replied, pushing your hips up and finally meeting his hard thigh, giving a low moan.

“Too bad that would keep me from doing this.” He said, sitting up slightly, grabbing the spoon from the bowl and pressing the cold metal to your areola, spreading a thick layer of ice cream there while your hot skin made it melt and dribble down.

“Fucking hell.” You said, watching as his tongue slid out and collected the rivulet of cream that was dangerously rolling down towards the sheets, almost staining them.

His eyes found yours and he grinned. “Feels good?”

You nodded. “Do that again, please.”

He obliged, this time reaching the peak and sucking it, his mouth opening wide as he tried to suck away as much dessert as possible.

Your left hand went to his head, holding him against your breast while your right one went to his ass, pressing it down so that your pelvis and his met, grinding against each other deliciously, his mouth leaving the sucking motion to release a heavy exhale.

“You have the most beautiful tits I've ever seen and touched, Buttercup. They feel so soft and warm and good.” He murmured, so aroused it almost felt painful. “I love them so much.” He confessed, pressing them together and dipping his face in between, moving it side to side. “I love you so damn much, ____.”

He gave a few thrusts with his hips, before pressing his cock harshly between your bodies, your skin feeling so sensitive that you thought you could feel it throb against you.

“I want you inside.” You whispered, grinding into him in response. “Tell me you used a condom the other time.”

He nodded. “I always have.”

You nodded in reply. “You sure you’re clean?”

“I got tested before Grace. And she’s clean.” He said, slowing down at the mention of his ex.

You nodded. “I got checked after Edmund, for peace of mind. All safe.”

“Thank fuck.” He commented, biting the underside of your boob. “I can’t wait to feel you raw on me. If you’re okay with that.”

You confirmed, bobbing your head so energetically you thought it would detach from your neck. “Want to feel you cum inside.” You murmured while he bit his lip and got more ice cream, covering your other breast, the cold of the food and the spoon making you keen and purr. “Is this what you were doing while she made those sounds?”

He tutted and shook his head. “I’ve always wanted this with you. It would never please me as much with anyone else.”

You rolled your eyes. “Liar.”

He arched an eyebrow and stopped his licking and sucking motions, sinking his teeth into your flesh, eliciting a gasp from you, leaving his position only once he was sure he had left a mark. “What did you say?”

“That you’re a liar. That you like this more with me than with anyone else,” you replied, cocky and bratty.

Without thinking twice, he slapped your left breast violently, not even trying to be delicate.

You squealed, your whole body flinching before your fingers gripped the sheets tightly.

“You think I would do this with just anyone?” He asked, almost angry, the hard bite in his voice scaring you just a little.

He eyed the other breast meaningfully, placing his hand there but not slapping the full curve until you shook your head yes, giving him permission.

The second blow had you losing your mind completely, your cunt so sensitive that you felt a heavy gush of arousal drip out of your entrance. “No, Jin.”

“Grip the headboard and stay still.” He said, sitting up and tugging your panties down, the fabric almost ripping at the aggressive movements. “Maybe you don’t get how much you turn me on, Buttercup.” He grinned, looking at you finally naked in front of him.  “Do you know how many times I saw those perky nipples under my shirts? How many times I thought about covering them in any food imaginable?”

You shook your head. “Maybe I wanted you to lay me on top of the kitchen table and shove your cock in my cunt and bruise my tits all over.” You replied, batting your lashes innocently. “Maybe call me your dirty little slut. Throw in a couple spanks.”

He stopped everything he was doing, entirely frozen.

“Is that how you like it?” He asked, completely focused on your reply.

You licked your lips. “With you I might like that, yes.”

“You want to be my dirty little slut?” He asked, staring into your eyes, quoting your words exactly.

You inhaled and nodded.

“You want me to degrade you?” He asked again, settling between your legs and rubbing your thighs.

Again, you shook your head yes.

“What if I called you my cockstarved whore?” He said, slightly hesitant.

You smiled and closed your eyes. “Why don’t you do that while squeezing my cheeks with one hand and slapping my tits with the other?”

He snickered. “You really are a filthy animal, uh?” He slapped your breast and bent down to your face. “You want me to use you like a fuckdoll, mh?”

“Yes, please.”

“I need to stretch you first, though, love.” He said, softening for a second. “Now, out of our little game here, I don’t want to hurt you like that, yes?”

Your mind sobered up for a minute as you listened to him.

“Listen to me now, Buttercup. We need a safeword, love.” He said, touching your face. “You okay with colours? Green is good, yellow is slow down, red is stop.”

“I’m good with that.” You replied, trying to reach his face with yours. “Can you kiss me, please?”

His expression turned longing and fond before he took his time, making love to your mouth with his, his kiss so deep and demanding and passionate until he felt how wet you were against his thigh.

“You’re drenched, doll.” He said, smirking at you. “I want to feel your pretty hand around my cock, Buttercup. Stroke me while I stretch you, love.”

You nodded, your hands leaving the headboard lightning fast sliding into his underwear with speed you doubted you could muster in any other circumstances.

“Fuck, you’re thick.” You said once your fingers wrapped around him.

“That’s what the stretching is for, Buttercup.” He grinned as he looked down at you. His fingers slipped into your slit effortlessly, your inner muscles gripping him immediately.

“And you’re tight. So damn tight.” He replied, bending down to lick at your chest, suctioning your areola into his mouth, shaking his head, making your whole breast bounce in a movement that was too mild to cause pleasure, weren’t it for the incredible amount of arousal circling in your bloodstream.

“Please, Jin. Inside. I’m begging. Please.” You pleaded, stroking him, feeling how long and thick and hot he was, filled with ridges and veins. And he was circumcised. None of your previous partners were.

You explored the differences with your fingers, the lack of skin there so interesting and unusual.

“You like that?” He asked, gritting his teeth as he felt his cock flutter, a drop of precum leaving his slit.

You nodded as you caught his arousal, spreading over the soft, spongy tip, completely undisturbed by foreskin. “I want to see it.” You said before a long moan left your lips, his fingers hitting a sensitive spot inside you, rubbing it with slow movements of his index and middle finger, hooking them and pressing intensely against the smoothest patch of skin. “Oh, god.” You murmured, your eyes fluttering shut as he added his thumb on your clit.

“Cum on my fingers, Buttercup.” He growled. “Then I’ll let you see my cock. You need to cum first, though. Cum for me.”

While your hand stroked him lightly, absentmindedly, the rest of your body focused exclusively on the feel of his digits inside you. ‘I’m close’ was all you managed to say before your hips started following your high, your body becoming completely unresponsive to any semblance of control your mind tried to impose.

“Cum, love.” He said, and your whole being responded, your hand stilling, your breathing stopping, your eyes opening wide before closing again while ecstasy possessed you.

“Yes, love. That’s it. My filthy thing. Show me how you do it.” He spurred you on, watching your body contort in pleasure.

“Jin.” You whined, the first sound you managed to emit since you came apart for him.

“Yes.” He said, removing his thumb from your clit and adding another finger inside you, stretching you wide before you called a yellow.

He extracted his fingers and laid them flat against your mound. “I think I promised you my cock, uh?”

Grinning wildly, you agreed, trying to tug his boxers off. “I want it. I earned it. Give it to me.”

He snickered, cleaning his hand against your breast before collecting your taste and what was left of the gelato with the flat of his tongue. “How demanding.”

“I’ve waited four years. Can’t you just do me already?”

“We could have waited way, way less.” He said, taking the bowl with only a spoonful of molten ice cream, tipping it teasingly over your torso, drawing a line that went from your belly button to your mouth, which you opened wide, letting the liquid dribble in.

Seokjin stared in wonder, imagining something else spilling into your mouth. Once there was nothing left, he placed the bowl back on the bedside table, bending down and licking up the line of cream he had drawn, slowing down to make sure he didn’t leave too much of a mess.

By the time he reached your neck and chin, he was ready to explode with want, his whole body needing to claim, own, possess.

“Is my little slut ready?” He asked, lingering over your face. “Or does she need to learn some more patience?”

You shook your head, licking his lips. “Please.” You begged, your nails raking down his back.

“That’s a good slut. You’re begging for my cock?”

You nodded.

“And you’re so dumb for it you even lost your words?”

You nodded again, grinning.

“She’s the smartest little bean and still gets silly for my cock.” He smiled fondly, almost insultingly. “That’s my pretty fuckdoll.”

He laid down beside you, finally freeing his cock as he arched his hips off the bed and removed his underwear.

Your eyes focused on his dick immediately, the shaft so beautiful, covered in veins just like you had imagined when you had felt it underneath your fingertips.

“Dammit. It’s...” You bent over him, getting your hands on him, bringing your face closer to his crotch, wanting to learn every single detail by heart. “Jin.”

“What.” He replied before throwing his head back, his fingers going to the pillow and gripping it, his hand leaving the fabric to press his palm to his mouth.

You had teasingly taken his tip into your mouth, his skin feeling so smooth and hot, salty, your cheeks and tongue eager to squeeze him tentatively, feeling just how spongy his flesh felt.

He moaned sinfully. “You’re really hungry, aren’t you, my naughty slut.” His hand reached the crown of your head, caressing your head before pulling you off. “I wanna cum in your dripping cunt, Buttercup. Come up here.”

“What if I wanna blow you?” You teased, arching an eyebrow.

“Maybe I’ll let you do that for round four or something, come up here, let me fill that tight warm cunt.”

Closing your eyes, smiling slowly, you straddled his hips. “You’d better keep your mouth on my boobs in the process.”

He giggled. “Wouldn’t have it any different. Come here.” He opened his arms and you propped yourself on your elbows. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You cupped his cheek and waited for him to kiss you.

He obliged. “Feels so good to taste me on your tongue.” He murmured, stroking your back.

“I haven’t even properly taken you in my mouth.” You quipped, slightly petty.

He smiled and grabbed his cock, placing the tip against your entrance. “I’ll make up for it.” He kissed your cheek. “Take your time.”

You nodded and lowered yourself slowly. Taking the first few inches was blissful, the lack of barrier making him slide easily.

“Fuck, it feels good.” He growled. “You feel so warm and tight, love. You feel fucking amazing.”

You purred as you took some more, the stretch becoming more difficult. Your inner muscles contracted, making you come to a halt.

“Holy fuck.” He murmured, his hips pushing in before he managed to control himself. “Sorry, Buttercup, so sorry.” He apologised as you flinched. He kissed your face repeatedly. “I’m so sorry.” He touched your cheek.

“It feels good, but I need to—” You took more of him. “Go slow.”

He nodded and felt your breast against his palm, hanging heavy, right there for him to reach and touch and fondle and suck. “Sure thing, love.” He looked into your eyes. “Tell me how I can make it better.”

You shook your head. “Just hold me, please.”

He wrapped you in his arms just as you took all of him, sitting on him. “Yes, ____. You are so perfect.”

You closed your eyes, breathing in through your mouth. Slowly, you started rotating your hips, feeling how his cock filled you, pulsating inside you. “Jinnie. I love you.”

“I love you too, Buttercup.” He spoke gently, assisting you as you started riding him, his fingers gripping your hips gently.

“You’re so hot.” You whined, biting your lip, watching as his face contorted in pleasure. “I love you so much,” you said with a whimper, your inner walls constricting around him.

“Stop getting tighter, it feels too good.” He whispered, chuckling in desperation.

“Don’t you wanna fill me up?” You looked at him, batting your eyelashes. “I want you to. Please.” You spoke through a pout, moving faster on him.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to keep himself grounded.

You slowly rose to a sitting position, leaving the warmth of his embrace. “Don’t keep me waiting.” You provoked him, spreading your tiny hands over his insanely wide chest, your nails teasing him just a little. “I know you want to watch me drip in your cum.”

He exhaled heavily before giving a deep, breathy laugh, like a short series of hiccups. “You think you deserve my cum, you dirty slut?” He licked his lips, observing your tits shake right in front of his face before slapping them, earning a moan from you. “You really like them slapped, uh? Let’s see if you like spanks too.” He taunted before landing a heavy smack on your ass, enjoying the squeeze of your kegels. “And that pussy likes to clench me so tight.” He grinned, watching as your hand reached your clit, your eyes closed, your hair messy around your face. “Yeah, touch yourself, Buttercup.”

Your gaze met his, your chest blushing as your high approached. “I’m close.”

“It’s okay, keep touching yourself, love. I want you to feel good, honey.” His hips thrust in from beneath, making the stimulation more intense.

“I’m cumming,” you whimpered, leaning even more into your hand as your angle shifted, his cock hitting all the right spots inside you.

As soon as your body crashed on his, Seokjin caught you, holding you close while his throbbing cock kept pistoning in and out of you, focusing on making your orgasm last as he started zeroing in on his own.

“Keep it up, love,” he growled sternly while he felt his restraint slip, “I’m gonna get my slut sloppy with my cum, then I’m gonna lay her on her back and keep it plugged inside her while I fill her up some more.”

You only sobbed and squealed as you felt him get absolutely wild, growling as he gave messier strokes before sinking in deep and staying there, his cock pulsating and spilling his release inside your sensitive walls.

“Goodness, fuck, love. Never had a cunt this good.” He growled, holding his position for a minute, both of you exhausted and breathing heavily.

“Are you really going to do that?” You asked as soon as you came to your senses.

He blinked. “What?”

“The flipping on my back and going for round two?” You asked, parting from him just enough to look him in the face.

“Am I soft?” He asked you, arching an eyebrow.

You squeezed him with your kegels, his lower lip disappearing between his teeth as he felt you get impossibly tighter. “No.” You replied, looking into his dark gaze.

“Then you have your answer.” He smirked before executing his power move, your back hitting the sheets while he adjusted himself on top of you. “Grab the headboard. Hold on tight.” He said before sliding out and snapping his hips forward, his dick hitting the deepest corner of your sex.

“Oh, damn.”

He chuckled ruthlessly. “Damn right.” He replied cockily, slamming into you again, setting a fast, angry pace, watching your lips open wide, his cock coaxing cry after cry from your throat. “Are you gonna cum for me again? Milk this cock with your juicy cunt?”

You nodded helplessly, arching your chest up, trying to get his attention on your nipples.

He bent down obediently, giving you exactly what you were silently asking, his tongue laving your left areola in lazy, teasing licks. “Touch your clit.” He commanded, feeling his edge come around.

While his cock kept ramming in and out of you, his mouth went to your throat, biting you, his neck contorting as he tried to pay more attention to your sensitive skin.

Your fingers reached your clit just as he sunk his teeth in the soft curve of your bosom.

“Jin, please.” You croaked, your hips meeting his while the room filled with the sound of skin smashing against skin, the headboard thumping against the wall, the feet of the bed scraping against the floor, his laboured breath interrupting once you felt his cock spill inside you again with the strange, pleasurable sensation of his cum spurting against your walls.

You whimpered, hoping you could still cum one more time, but ready to give that up, if need be.

“Come on, Buttercup. One more. I know you can.” He said, staying inside you, arching off of you and slapping your breast again. “I know you’re still hungry for my cock. Give me one more, my lovely little slut. Gimme more, love. I’m waiting for you.” He said, watching your fingers work your clit furiously.

“Again, Jin.” You whimpered, your voice breaking.

“This?” He asked, hitting again.

“Yes, Jin, Yes. Please, Seokjin.” You begged. “Please, I love you, please, make it good. Please, please, please.” You cooed and chanted, so lost in pleasure you felt your high peak and before it shoved you tumbling downhill, pleasure making you soar and precipitate, like a small bird in a storm.

“Oh, you’re cumming, Buttercup.” He observed delivering small hits to your nipples before pinching one, then the other, tweaking them energetically but carefully.

“Jin.” You whimpered in a long moan.

“Oh, yes, ____. It’s me love. You’re with me, love.” He said, just as you tried getting closer to him, your hand resting on your mound while your other arm wrapped around him.

“I love you.” You whispered, your breath calming down. “I’ll never stop saying it.”

He rolled the both of you on your sides, looking at each other.

“I love you too, Buttercup.” He whispered, bringing you closer to him. “We’re both so messy.”

“The ice cream got so sticky.” You complained sadly, giving him a tired look.

“We should shower.” He considered, kissing your lips.

“You really feel like standing up?”

He eyed you eloquently. “I haven’t even slid out of you yet.”

You hummed. “Don’t want you to.” You mused, nuzzling into him.

“We need to clean you up.” He said, stroking your hair fondly. “My adorable messy slut.” He said with the expression and tone of the most affectionate praise.

You purred under his touch, feeling something flutter in your guts. “Don’t say it if you’re not going to torture me afterwards.”

He chuckled. “Let’s clean you up and get some rest. I’ll give you round three if you behave.”

“And then I can blow you for round four?” You asked, eyes bright and inquisitive.

He outright laughed, the sound making you laugh too. “Maybe.” He said, cupping your cheek and pulling out of you slowly, grabbing his boxers to clean you up as delicately as possible before you both stood and walked to the bathroom.

Seokjin woke up around five am, his alarm telling him it was time to get ready for Sunday shift. He would come back in time to make you breakfast — and maybe make love to you afterwards.

Switching off the alarm, he slid out of your grip, your arm thrown possessively around his waist.

He caressed your face before kissing your forehead and stepping away, knowing that it would take a catastrophe to take himself away from you if he lingered for too long.

Your eyes opened when the alarm stopped, watching his back as he disappeared into the bathroom.

When he came back, he was fully dressed, only his shoes and coat missing. You opened your eyes as he pressed his lips to your cheek. “Bakery?” You asked. “Don’t you have someone for the morning shift?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been considering getting some help. At least for a couple mornings a week.”

You hummed and nodded. “I can come along if you need.”

He denied. “Stay here. I wanna find you sleepy and cosy when I come back. Remember round five?”

You smiled and hid into the pillow. “Yes, please.”

He smiled along. “Good. Go back to sleep, Buttercup. We’re going on our first date today.”

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

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

Masterlist

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Lockscreens (ch. 4)

tw: Insecurities, feelings of loneliness

Word count: 3.2k

Genre: Angst, fluff

All trigger warnings will be tagged and posted at the beginning of each chapter! This will have *manga spoilers*

Pairings: Bokuto x fem!reader, Kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: Nearly four years ago, Bokuto left the love of his life for volleyball. Despite all the time, he’s still very much in love with her. He comes home to a major surprise leaving him wondering…What happened while he was gone?

Masterlist | prev | next

ch 4: alone (14 weeks)

14 Weeks “So? How’d it go?” (Name) had just barely gotten into her car when her phone had rung. 

“I got the job!” She squealed, grinning. 

“I knew you could do it, kitten.” Even though she couldn’t see him, she could just hear the smile he had on his face. “This calls for a celebration!” He declared. “Be ready at 6, I’ll pick you up, okay?” 

“Oh, Kuroo, you don’t have to do that.” She bit her lip.

“Too late, I already have the reservations booked! See you at 6, darlin’.” The phone beeped as the call ended. She stared at the screen a moment longer. It was a picture of her, Yaku, Kai, and Kuroo at her graduation party. Kuroo was slightly behind her, putting bunny-ears behind her head, whereas Yaku and Kai were standing right beside her, arms thrown over her shoulders. She glanced at the clock. It was only two, she had plenty of time to get ready. 

A few hours later, she stepped out of her house. A navy blue peacoat covered her cream turtle-neck dress. Black, high-heeled shoes donned her feet. “Wow, don’t you look beautiful,” Kuroo teased as he opened the door for her. 

“Well aren’t you being chivalrous today,” she smirked. 

“I’m always chivalrous,” he retorted. Kuroo started the car, and adjusted the fans so that the wind wasn’t blowing directly onto her. 

“So, where are we going?”

“That’s a secret.” He tapped her nose playfully before he focused on driving.

As they arrived at their destination, her eyes widened. “Kuroo! You didn’t have to take me here.” He pulled up into the front, turning off the car. Kuroo quickly went to her side, opening the door with a cheeky smile. He extended a hand, gently guiding her out of the car. 

“I wanted to.” He looked at the valet, handing them his keys. “Thank you so much~!” They walked in together, past the white marble columns; she was still in shock. “Reservation for Kuroo Tetsurou.” 

The lady at the booth smiled, “right this way, Mr. Kuroo.” She guided them to a private table nearby the balcony. 

They thanked her and she quickly walked away. Kuroo pulled the chair out for (Name), waiting for her to sit down before he pushed the seat in. As he walked to his own seat, her eyes roamed his figure. Kuroo was wearing a dark grey dress shirt that matched his coat and pants with a navy blue tie. “You’re drooling,” he teased as he took off his jacket, carefully draping it over the back of his chair. 

 Her cheeks glowed as she averted her eyes. “I’m just surprised.” She shrugged as she scanned the menu, mouth starting to water at all the options. “Too used to seeing you in red and black, I suppose.”

“Do I look good?” (Name) raised her head to see his cheeky smirk. 

“You look presentable,” she replied with a blank face. She’d never admit it, but he definitely looked better than just ‘good’. She scanned the surroundings. “I never thought I’d be dining here.” Her eyes narrowed at him. “This is too fancy for just a reward for a job interview. How did you even get a reservation here?” 

 Kuroo held his hand up, shrugging. “No thank you to the greatest best friend in the world?” He teased before giving her a soft smile. “How about a belated graduation gift and a reward for getting a job?” He leaned his cheek into his propped up hand. “Don’t worry about the specifics, sweetheart. I’d do anything for you.” 

Her eyes softened. “Oh you big dummy,” she murmured affectionately. Her hand reached across the table to grasp his. “What on Earth did I do to deserve you?” 

“Manage my dumbass for years.” His thumb rubbed against her knuckles. “That, and carried me in English and history.” He shot her a cheeky smile. At that, she let out a breathy laugh. A wave of guilt coursed through her body. It was Kuroo, they had always been familiar with one another. They’d practically grown up holding hands. But why did it feel different now? 

“I suppose you do owe me for all that work,” she teased. 

“So don’t worry about this, okay?” He pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “Just enjoy your meal, and I promise I’ll take care of you.” Warm smiles were exchanged before they slipped into their usual conversation. 

****

Laughter filled the air as they exited the five-star restaurant. Kuroo helped her put on her coat as they stood just inside the entrance. “Want some dessert?” With an eager nod from her, they made their way down the street. Warm air billowed out to meet cold as they exhaled. She shivered, pulling her coat closer to her. The dessert place was only a few blocks away, but she couldn’t help but wish that they’d driven instead. Their shoulders brushed as they walked side-by-side. Loud noises caught their attention as the light of a TV filled the sidewalk. “Another phenomenal straight! Is there nothing that wing-spiker Bokuto Koutarou can’t do?” At the sound of his name, her feet froze. Dragging her eyes away from the ground in front of her, she looked at the television. “Tonight at the Panasonic Arena in Hirakata, the MSBY Black Jackal took their win with straight sets against the Tachibana Red Falcons. A majority of those points were scored by up-and-rising ace Bokuto on his debut match with the team!” Kuroo’s hand gently grasped onto her elbow, pulling her away from the screen. At his touch, her feet unfroze. Shaking her head, she followed his footsteps.  

“Do you miss him?” Hesitation filled his voice as he pulled his coat closer, fingers grasping her coat gently. 

Her breath puffed out. They walked another block as she contemplated her answer. He held his breath, eyes rapidly darting between her and the concrete. “No,” she finally replied. “Not anymore.” 

“Oh?” 

They stopped at a crosswalk. She glanced up at her companion, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “There are some nights where I’ll miss him,” she admitted. “And I wish that he knew.” A hand settled over her stomach, her eyes closing. Another shiver tore through her. 

Kuroo quickly stepped closer to her, pulling her into a hug as they waited for the light to change. “Are you planning on telling him?” 

She shook her head, brushing her hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. “He looks happy as is.” With a ding, the light changed. 

Kuroo released her, and they walked together over. His hand slipped into hers. He stopped at the next corner, looking down at her as he squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry, I’m here for you.” Her eyes sparkled as they met his and a sudden warmth coursed through his blood; his throat constricted at the sight of her smile. He could only hold her hand tighter in an attempt to ground himself. 

****

“There you have it folks! Bokuto Koutarou blows past the three blockers, with a clean wipe!” The roar of the audience filled his ears. Bokuto turned, beaming up into the crowd. He looked for the familiar face framed with (h/c) locks. Bokuto froze, the smile stuck on his face. It was his very first match, his debut match with an actual professional team, yet he had never felt so alone. 

Yes, he had his team-mates. 

Yes, there were people in the audience cheering for him. He was sure that at least a few of his friends and former team-mates would’ve caught part of the game on TV. 

But, they weren’t there. Not in person. 

She wasn’t there. 

“Great job out there Bokuto!” A hand slapped his back. Bokuto lurched forward, turning back to greet his captain.

“Thanks, Meian!” The rest of his team-mates came over, joining in a tight hug. “Thanks for putting me in!” He grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“C’mon, Bokuto, let’s go out for drinks!” 

“Yeah! We gotta celebrate your first game with us.” Barnes bumped his shoulder against the younger male. Bokuto scanned the audience once more, not quite sure what he was looking for before he dragged his feet after his team-mates. The team moved towards the locker-room, some moving towards the showers. Bokuto took a seat on the bench, opening up his locker to pull out his bag. He unzipped the bag, grabbing his phone. He stared at the screen blankly. (Name)’s face stared back. It was a candid shot of her at their favorite cafe, taken the day that he had left. Whipped cream was smeared on her nose from Bokuto. No new notifications. Bokuto sighed.

“You coming with us?” Meian poked his head around the lockers, about to head to the showers. 

“Yeah, lemme just get ready.”

****

A door shut. (Name) let out a deep sigh as she moved through her house. Heels were absentmindedly kicked off in the hallway, a coat was carelessly draped over the sofa, a dress tugged up over her head and dropped onto the ground as she walked towards her room. She collapsed at her vanity, staring at the reflection. Another deep sigh. (Name) reached for the makeup wipes, hand trembling as she began aggressively rubbing at her face. With each swipe of her face, more of her natural skin was revealed. She stopped, her body shaking. “What am I even doing?” Her voice cracked, staring back into dull (e/c) orbs. (Name) shook her head. She missed him. So much. Kuroo was just a friend. One of her best friends. It wasn’t a date. It didn’t mean anything...right? It couldn’t mean anything.

(Name) looked back up at her reflection, a picture in her peripherals snagging her attention. Her entire body shifted, hands reaching out for the frame. As she stared down at the picture, her vision went blurry. Was someone crying? Those sobs were so loud. Oh. Thick, hot droplets fell onto the glass, smearing across Bokuto’s smiling face. It almost looked like he was the one crying. “I miss you so much, Kou.” (Name)’s heart clenched as a feeling of loneliness overwhelmed her.

She stood up, making her way to her bed. Collapsing onto it, she held the picture frame close to her heart. On the nightstand was the owl plush that Bokuto had won all those years ago. (Name) tucked it into her chest against the frame as her entire body began to shake furiously. “Please.” She buried her face into the plushie, a hint of Bokuto’s cologne still desperately clinging to it. “Come back to me.”  

****

A month later...

“AGHKAASHI!” The black-haired male looked up to face his friend. 

“Bokuto-san.” The former setter nodded at him. “How have you been?” 

Bokuto slid into the seat across from his friend, beaming. “I’ve been good! Busy. I rarely have any time for myself.” 

Akaashi raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you taking care of yourself?” 

Bokuto’s face faltered. “Define taking care of myself.” His eyes glanced down at the menu. “Oh wow, there’s so many options!” 

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “Have you been eating and drinking?”

“Weeeeeell, most of the time!” Bokuto grinned. “Sometimes I get too tired after all the practice to eat.” 

At this, Akaashi couldn’t stop the sigh. “Where’s (Name) been? Has she not been helping you?” Bokuto’s face fell, causing Akaashi’s eyes to narrow at him. “Did something happen between you two?” Bokuto lowered his face towards the menu, energetically flipping the pages. “Bokuto-san.” Bokuto winced, mumbling something under his breath. “Bokuto-san, I can’t hear you.” Akaashi sighed.

“I uh...I haven’t talked to her in a while.” Akaashi opened his mouth to ask further when the waitress stopped by at the table. They placed their orders, and she took the menus away. Bokuto’s hands were on top of the table now, fidgeting as he avoided his friend’s eyes.

“Bokuto-san, what do you mean by ‘awhile’? I thought you and (Name) were still together?” Bokuto pulled his phone out attempting to use it as a distraction. “Bokuto-san,” Akaashi warned, tugging the phone out of his hands.

Bokuto sighed, chewing on his bottom lip. “I may have not really talked to her since I left for training.” At this, Akaashi’s eyes widened. “I mean! I tried? I texted her the day of her graduation party but uh,” his entire body drooped, “she never texted me back.” Gold eyes stared at his fingers. Gunmetal blue glowed with pity. Bokuto cleared his throat, picking at a callous. “Have you seen her lately?”

Akaashi hesitated. “No.” He replied finally. “I haven’t seen her since our last hangout before you left. She was at the last gym 3 reunion though.” 

Bokuto raised his head, looking out the window. “I’m glad she’s still going out. How was the grad party?” 

“I didn’t go. My internship started that week. From what I heard, it was fun.” Akaashi shrugged. “Apparently Kuroo-san hosted.” 

Bokuto sent his friend a forlorn smile. “I’m glad my best bro is taking care of her.” For the rest of the meal, Bokuto remained silent. It was odd for Akaashi to see the typically loud wing-spiker so quiet and antisocial. But it gave Akaashi time to think. The former setter surveyed his best friend carefully. Akaashi had known that Bokuto and (Name) had been very much in love the moment that Akaashi had met her. It was a type of love that most people prayed for. So what had happened?

“Oi! Horned owl bastard!”

“Kuroo!” 

“What, doesn’t he look like an owl?” Kuroo and (Name) were standing by the entrance of Gym 3 waving in the dual-toned wing-spiker in. 

“That doesn’t mean you call him that!” She argued, smacking his chest. Bokuto laughed loudly, tugging on Akaashi’s elbow.

“Hey hey hey! Kuroo, (Nickname)!”

“Hey Kou,” (Name) smiled at him. He swept her into a hug, swinging her around. Their loud laughter filled the gym as Akaashi approached Kuroo.

“Hello, Kuroo-san.” 

Kuroo’s hazel eyes shifted from Bokuto and (Name), eyeing the setter. “Akaashi, right?” Akaashi nodded. “Come on in, we normally do extra practice after the day ends.” Kuroo clapped an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders, hauling him into the gym. “(Name)! Bokuto brought someone.” 

Bokuto was busy cuddling into her, his face buried in her neck as his arms wound tightly around her shape. “Kou!” She squealed, wrestling away. The owl pouted as she ducked out of his arms, walking towards Kuroo and Akaashi. “Akaashi right? Kou never stops talking about you.” She grinned, extending a hand. “It’s nice to officially meet the only other person who can manage him.” 

“It’s nice to meet you too, (Name)-san.”

“You don’t have to call me (Name)-san! Just (Name) is fine.” 

Bokuto threw his arms around her shoulders, causing her to lurch forward. “(Nickname)! I haven’t been able to see you all day,” he pouted. “Akaashi, stop stealing her attention.”

“Now, now, you clingy owl. Don’t you want to practice?” Kuroo pulled on Bokuto’s collar, dragging him towards the court. 

“Sorry about that, Akaashi.” (Name) and Akaashi stood beside each other, watching as Kuroo and Bokuto started arguing about who deserved her attention more. “It’s hard for the both of us—being at different schools I mean.” Her eyes twinkled with affection, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “He definitely got attached to me last year.” Light-hearted giggles. “That’s what I get for making a best friend at another school.” She turned to look at him. “Thank you for taking care of him for me.” 

Akaashi nodded at her. “I’ll do it for as long as I can.” 

 As they stood outside the restaurant, Akaashi gave Bokuto a hug. “Everything will be alright, Bokuto-san. You’re doing great things.” He smiled, holding Bokuto’s phone out. The lock screen flashed on, revealing a picture of a familiar sleeping face. Bokuto slapped Akaashi on the back, and turned to walk away. As he rounded the corner, he stopped to look down at the phone. A tear slipped down his cheek as a shaky finger stroked the screen. Bokuto’s only wish was that it wasn’t cracked glass but was her soft skin instead. 

****

Meanwhile...

The door opened, causing both people to look up at it. “Hello again, Ms. (L.Name). Thank you for coming in for the 18-week appointment.” He turned his eyes to Kuroo. “And this must be your husband! It’s nice to meet you, I’m Dr. Ito.” Dr. Ito shook Kuroo’s hand, the male giving him a pleasant smile. (Name) gnawed on her bottom lip, biting back a response denying their relationship. The last thing they wanted was unnecessary judgment regarding her circumstances. If she was being honest with herself, she didn’t even know why she’d asked Kuroo to come. Perhaps it was the flood of loneliness that filled her when she realized her circumstances? “How have you been, Ms. (L.Name)?” Her head snapped up, offering a small smile to the doctor.

“Good! I’ve been eating more protein and taking those Omega-3 vitamins you told me to.” 

Dr. Ito hummed, making his way to his seat. “That’s good. Have you noticed any changes with your morning sickness? Any cravings?”

(Name)’s fingers drummed against her thigh, glancing up at Kuroo. Kuroo was seated beside the doorway, hazel eyes carefully observing her. “My morning sickness has been getting a bit better. The ginger tea is helping a lot.” She shifted uncomfortably. “I haven’t really noticed any extra cravings.”

“Sweetheart, you literally asked for sour orange gummies while we were eating that yakiniku,” Kuroo teased. She flushed.

“Okay, maybe I do have some cravings.” (Name) conceded, shooting the male a dirty look. “But it hasn’t gotten to the point where it’s weird stuff like pickles and peanut butter.” Kuroo’s face wrinkled in disgust. 

Dr. Ito laughed. “Well, cravings do start getting a lot worse during the second trimester, and you still have a ways to go.” He jotted some notes down. “Would you like to see your baby?”

Her (e/c) eyes widened. “Can I?”

“Yes of course! You might not be able to see much details, but we can definitely do an ultrasound for you now.” She made eye-contact with Kuroo.

“We’d love that.” 

“Just give me a second to get prepared.” Dr. Ito snapped a pair of gloves on, pulling out a container of gel and the ultrasound device. He gently rubbed the gel onto her stomach, causing her to flinch.

“Oh wow, that’s cold,” she giggled, feeling self-conscious. The baby bump had gotten slightly more noticeable.

“Dad, you can stand over here.” Dr. Ito directed, gesturing for Kuroo to stand beside (Name). Dr. Ito dragged the device across her stomach, the image coming onto the monitor. “Look Mama, your baby is developing just fine. A little smaller than typical, but they’re doing just fine. If you want, we can tell you the gender now?” Kuroo placed a hand onto her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. His eyes sparkled as he looked in awe, hazel orbs shifting between the screen and her.

Tears pricked at her eyes. “No, it’s okay,” she whispered. “I wanna be surprised.”  

“No worries.” A sudden noise from the machine startled her. 

“What’s that?” Kuroo inquired, searching the screen for an answer

“That’s your baby’s heartbeat.” 

(Name) sniffled, tears cascading down her cheek. She looked up, a hand squeezing his as she blinked furiously. Is this what it’d be like if Bokuto was here? More tears streamed down. “Look at that, baby,” Kuroo cooed, his other hand coming up to brush her tears away. A tear escaped his eye now. “You’re doing a great job, Mama.” Her eyes squeezed shut, leaning into his warm embrace. At least she wouldn’t be alone. Not anytime soon.

Fun Facts: 

💟 Kuroo had booked the reservations a month in advance

💟 The first time (Name) and Kuroo had held hands was in elementary school after he accidentally spiked her in the face with a volleyball

💟 The only time (Name) missed one of Bokuto’s games was when Nekoma was playing or if she had school. She attended all of the Fukurodani practice matches and even the matches of Bokuto’s college team.

💟 (Name) and Bokuto frequented the cafe so often that the owners named a pastry after them

💟 It took Bokuto five times to win (Name) the owl plushie.

💟 Since they had graduated, Akaashi trusted (Name) to take care of Bokuto and would often Facetime the couple every few weeks to catch up

💟 Out of everyone from Nekoma, Akaashi likes (Name) the most. Kenma is his second favorite.

💟 When (Name) asked for the sour gummy worms, Kuroo had laughed so much that he accidentally burned their food. 

💟 (Name) heard “Take a Break” in her mind when Kuroo said “Look at that, baby”, but she didn’t mention it to anyone. Nor did she admit to herself how it made her feel   (visit the link for an explanation)

AN: I’m debating switching my schedule so that “Lockscreens” updates on Thursdays instead of Fridays. What do y’all think? 

LMK what y’all think of the fun facts too! 

Oh yeah, requests are still open for the 150 follower celebration!

Taglist: @toaster-stick @thatartsybitch @brazil-hinata @sawamooora @lastminaddition @anejuuuuoy @abby-rutledge20 @babybluebisexual @badboysdoitbetter2 @liathachcapricious @cosmiclunas @wishingforanother@toobsessedsstuff  @setterfish @yeehawslap @shadowkunoichi @haikyuusimp91  @firebonbon  @mentalydisturbed​ @samkysnks​

(If your name is bolded, I had trouble tagging you! If I accidentally missed you, please shoot me an ask!)

Please message me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💞

[michibikionmain]

Five Feet Apart

As much as I love Technoblade and Connor, they REALLY could not read the scene that was happening between Tommy and Tubbo and lowkey ruined it for me, so I’m rewriting it a bit to be more... emotional. Y’know, with less weird interruptions and what not. Might post on Ao3 but just figured I’d share here.

Spoilers for Dream SMP Exile arc and Tommy/Techno’s most recent plot streams from 12/27/2020

Slight trigger warning for mentions of suicide, panic attacks, and the other themes that have been occuring in this mess of an arc. Not sure what parts exactly could be/are triggering so I’m just gonna say the content level is about the same as the topics of Tommy’s exile arc. If anything from that storyline makes you uncomfy, this is not the story for you.

Tommy really should’ve been expecting this since the first time he and Technoblade snuck into L’manburg. He’d pointed out something along the lines of it to him, sharing fears of getting caught by any citizens of the nation he’d once helped established. Somehow, his mind never explored the possibility of this particular citizen finding him.

Quite Possibly the worst citizen that could’ve found him really.

Hearing the quiet, ever-familiar voice call out his name, like a whisper of a ghost more than a person, Tommy froze in place, causing the piglin man and their hostage to stop and look behind at him.

“What is it? C’mon Tommy, we’re runnin’ outta potions, we gotta keep movin’ if we wanna make it outta Manburg--” Technoblade began, used to the usually inattentive nature of his new companion. He’d prepared to chastise him for moving slowly or trying to start another ridiculous plan in the middle of their latest struggle, sighing as he adjusted his cape. Just like Tommy, however, he seemed to have not anticipated seeing the short, blonde man who stared at them with wide eyes.

Tubbo.

Once Tommy’s best friend, now turned president of L’manburg, Tubbo had hardly changed since Tommy had last seen him and even less since Techno had seen him as they attempted to execute him, but there was a more solemn energy about him. His shoulders were more stiff, his eyes a bit darker. The once bright and cheerful child had lost some of his sweet spark, looking torn between relief and disbelief as he stared at the two men who’d been banned from his country trying to sneak out a hostage.

“T-Tommy? I-is it really you? Surely not... s-surely... surely not. You’ve got to be like Ghostbur, aren’t you?” He stammered out quietly, tears threatening to spill out of the corner of his eyes as he clenched his fists. The president’s breathing started becoming uneven as he sniffled, staring at what... what had to be the ghost of his closest friend. He’d seen the tower himself, after all. And the shape of Logstedshire... Tommy couldn’t have survived whatever had happened there, and while a small part of him clung to the naïve and childish hope that his best friend was still alive somehow, even if he was working with the man Tubbo hated and feared more than anyone else on the server.

Tommy stared back, but instead of relief, there was a sense of betrayal, exhaustion, hurt... anger. A small bit of the colorful teen was happy to see that Tubbo was doing well, not that Tommy expected anything bad to have happened to him. Maybe that would’ve made it easier to swallow the fact that he hadn’t visited Tommy at all. He could chalk it up to injury, or sickness, but he was just... Tubbo. His Tubbo, no, not his anymore. He squeezed the compass in his pocket tightly, biting his lip as he stared forward with unfocused eyes. “Like hell I’mma ghostbur bitch,” He managed to mutter out through gritted teeth, “I’m real. TommyInnit, the biggest man on the planet. Could a ghost have muscles as big and real as mine?” Tommy comfortably slipped into his overconfident persona, determined not to show how scared and upset he was now, though Technoblade could still see how his hands shaked at his side.

“N-no, but... Tommy you... Dream said you were, when I visited you were-” Tubbo began to ramble off as he rushed forwards, the pure joy and relief of knowing Tommy, his Tommy, was still alive overtaking his previous anger and panic as he went to try and pull the man into a hug.

“You didn’t visit me. Not once,” Tommy said quietly and curtly, as he stepped out of the way of the attempted hug, “Dream was-- You never came. I waited for you, Tubbo, I stared at the stupid fuckin’ compass that you didn’t even keep for hours hopin’ you’d come, but you... you fucking left me. You fucking exiled me and left,” He began to rattle on, something about seeing Tubbo so glad to see him leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Tommy squeezed the compass tighter, trying to keep tears out of his own eyes now.

“B-but I did! I did visit! But I wasn’t invited to the party, I thought.. I thought you were mad at me, Dream made it sound like you were so I- I-i waited until I couldn’t! And when I got there you... Tommy, it looked like you DIED!” Tubbo began to sob back, allowing the tears to flow out of his eyes. What was Tommy talking about? Was he still mad at Tubbo? Tubbo would apologize a hundred times over if it would make his friend less angry, anything to bring him back. “W-we had a funeral planned and everything! The craters, the pillar... I thought you’d... done you-know-what!” He continues to sob out his frustrations.

“But you were invited! Ghostbur invited you personally! Every bitch on this fucking server was invited! But no one showed up! You left me because you don’t really care about me, do you? You even threw away the compass-- Oh? Didya think I didn’t hear about that? How you fuckin’ burned it?” Tommy snapped back, pulling out his own compass and holding it out with a death grip as if to emphasize his point.

“I-I didn’t... Tommy, please I didn’t-” With clumsy, shaking hands Tubbo pulled his own pocket, though the glass was heavily cracked and pieces of metal were dented, “I-it was an accident-- A-a creeper came and-”

Technoblade stood silently, watching the pair stare at each other and cry. They needed to be at the meeting place by now for their hostage exchange, in order to get Techno’s tools back, but the thought of interrupting the two friends in a moment like that made the constant anxiety bubbling under his skin only get worse, the voices in his head shouting all sorts of things as he cleared his throat and looked back at the hostage, who seemed to be sharing in his anxiety in this situation. The piglin cleared his throat, perhaps a bit to loudly than the moment called for as both of previously distracted boys turn to look at him.

“Uh... are we completing this hostage trade or not?” He says uncomfortably, shifting on his feet as Tubbo sniffled, wiping his face with his sleeves while Tommy kept his eyes fixed on the president. “Your emotional baggage is cool and all but y’know... we got things to do today Tommy... we’re kinda wanted, y’know-” Techno pointed out as he fiddled with the end of the lead attached to their hostage, who nodded.

“Uh, yeah! Please, I’d really like to be let go! I don’t wanna be here anymore, man! I don’t even live in this country...” Connor, the hostage, expressed with a sense of panic. Their words seemed to snap Tommy out of his anger for a minute, as he pushed Tubbo further away and walked to stand by Technoblade. 

With a sigh, he shoved the compass back into his pocket and wiped his face, not bearing to look at the president anymore as he took the lead from Techno. “Yeah, whatever bitch. Let’s get your fuckin’ show on the road...” Tommy muttered defeatedly. He felt Tubbo’s eyes burning into his skull, clearly more words to be said, but one thing was clear.

They had jobs to do now, living in two different worlds. What remained of their friendship was gone for now as they got to work.

Tommy and Tubbo, the once clingy duo, now stood five feet apart as they used empty words to discuss the terms of the trade.

[fallout-lou-begas]

Elevated Extras: Ranger Ghost Companion

You a Courier? If so, this might be your lucky day...if you don't mind walking a bit and your eyes are good. 

(Original sketch by @tarberrymentats / based on the OC Companion Meme by @falloutfandomeventhub / if you borrow this concept please tag it as #fallout elevated extras)

General

Name: Ranger Ghost

Location: Mojave Outpost

How to obtain: Complete the sidequest “Keep Your Eyes on the Prize,” then begin the sidequest “Giving Up the Ghost” to get her reassigned from the Mojave Outpost. Once freed of her assignment, she can travel with the Courier to monitor Legion activity throughout the Mojave.

Companion Quest: “Giving Up the Ghost.”

Ranger Ghost, like everyone else, is sick and tired of being stuck at the Mojave Outpost. Unfortunately, orders are orders. With the courier’s help, though, she just might be able to come down from that rooftop, but dealing with NCR bureaucracy might be a worse ordeal than Legion crucifixion.

Companion Wheel

I think we should travel together. You probably can’t tell, but that’d make me very happy. Let’s get the hell out of here.

Let’s talk about your tactics. Sure. Lecture the ranger on tactics. Go ahead. / What’re you thinking?

I want you to change your combat style. (humoring) Alright. / If you insist.

Use a melee weapon. Close combat, then. / Sure. We can hold their hands and tuck them in while we’re at it. / (Wild Wasteland Enabled) Try to remember the basics of CQC.

Use a ranged weapon. (stating the obvious) It’s what I do. / You going to spot for me? / (deeply sarcastic) Aww. Finally remembered I’m a ranger?

Be passive. Sure, give peace a chance. / Don’t go pacifist on me, now.

Be aggressive: Locked and loaded. / (mocking the company line) Right, and with “extreme prejudice.”

Enough about tactics. Agreed. Anything else? / Are we good, then?

Let’s talk about how close you’re following me. Is there a problem? / What are you...implying, exactly?

Wait here. Right. Things to do, places to be? / Holding down here. / I’ll keep watch here.

Follow me. Let’s roll out. / Finally. Don’t like waiting. / Right. Skip to my fucking lou.

Stay close to me. (sternly cautious) Define “close.” / Got it, on you. / Just don’t bump my gun.

Keep your distance. Positioning, got it. / Yeah, covering you. / (facetious concern) Don’t get lost, now.

Let’s trade equipment. Don’t get fucking handsy, now. / Just don’t hog the ammo.

(Overburdened). I’m not your fucking pack brahmin. / (exasperated) I’ve only got so many pockets.

(Sneaking). Staying low. / (wryly imperative) Quiet, now.

(In Courier’s iron sights). What the fuck is wrong with you? / (slowly, emphasizing) Watch your trigger discipline. / Don’t make me take that away.

(Courier lays mine). I’ve got my eyes on that. / You’d better have a plan for that.

It’s time for us to part ways. It’s because i’m a bitch, isn’t it. / Such sweet fucking sorrow, I bet.

I’d like you to go to the Lucky 38. Hm. Sending the Ghost to the haunted house. See you there. I’ll try not to spook the Securitrons.

We can meet again at the Mojave Outpost. (sucks teeth) Guess I’ll report what I’ve got back to headquarters. Hopefully by now they’ve got someone else watching the brahmins shit full-time.

Injured: (seething) SSShhit. / Didn’t want it like this. / (with conviction) I didn’t get off that roof just to fucking bite it.

Damaged Limb: (shout of pain) Fucker clipped me! / Sure could use a fucking medic.

Regaining Consciousness: What...what the hell happened? / (trailing off) Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck...

Death: (death rattle) / (weakly) Ghosts...can die, huh...ha...

Attributes

Aggression: Aggressive.

Confidence: Brave.

Assistance: Helps friends and allies.

Karma: Neutral.

Perks

Ghost of a Chance: When Ranger Ghost is by your side, so are the odds. In addition to gaining an extra 3% chance to critically hit, any single attack that would kill you may instead leave you just barely alive and invulnerable for a brief moment..

Drops, if killed

Ranger Vest Outfit

Ranger Grey Hat

Authority Glasses

Cowboy Repeater

Combat Knife

Iguana Bits

Grognak the Barbarian

Dialogue, Quest Details, and Ending Slides:

Dialogue

Why do they call you Ghost? What, don’t I scare you? Boo? Nothing? (beat) Well, if you gotta know, it stuck pretty quick back in basic. Not like there were many other albinos in boot camp. The all-white spooky bitch who shoots better at night? Yeah, that’s a ghost, alright. Pissed me off at first, but I came around when it started giving privates the heebie-jeebies. Just a little kick, is all.

What’s an albino? Albinism is a pigment disorder. You know, the color of your skin and hair? As in I don’t have color. Pale as a sheet.

[Medicine 35] A sharpshooter with albinism? Isn’t your vision affected? Done your homework, huh? Well, these big, bad sunglasses aren’t just for intimidation, doc. They only come off when I sleep. Sucks enough being photosensitive in the goddamn desert, but like I said. I’m a lot better at night.

What’s your real name? (the thousandth time she’s answered this exact question) If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.

Aw, come on. Curiosity killed the courier. Don’t push it.

[Speech 40] I’m just trying to understand my partner better. Then “understand” that I don’t owe you shit except loyalty. Just call me Ghost, and you’ll get that.

[Cherchez La Femme] Surely you’ve got a name to match that lovely personality. (flustered) Are you d-...I-...Yeah, I do.But you can just keep calling me Ghost. (quietly) For...for now.

What’s the deal with Ranger Jackson? Man hasn’t got a thought in his fucking head...which is why he’s such a good C.O., from the top down. He’s a nice enough guy on a good day. He’s...principled, for sure. But the man wouldn’t budge on an order from brass if it’d save his life. Stranded caravaneers get so bored and restless because of the impasse he’s overseeing that he’s started (excessive emphasis) “hiring” the rowdier ones for odd jobs off the grounds, which is why we’ve been “losing” supplies for a while. Gets shit done, I guess, but wish he’d show half that drive when bitching to HQ, but no. They tell him to sit tight, he says yes sir, and then he takes it out on us when we get frustrated at the frustrating bullshit.

Do you know Major Knight? (standoffish) Yeah. Good guy. Known him a while. Hell, he’s been at M.O. longer than I have.

What does he do? Repairs, mostly. With all the caravans backed up, we sort of have a monopoly on maintenance and upkeep. And believe me, he does damn fine work.

[Confirmed Bachelor] Is he...you know…? Is he...oh. Between you and me? Yeah. He and I are...alike. I mean, I’m the bitch everybody hates, so I don’t really give a shit, but beneath that…(thinking how best to describe him, ribbing him a bit)...accountant exterior of his, he’s really the soft, sensitive type. Needs someone to talk to sometimes. I’m that someone, sometimes, but if you get the chance...it’d do him good just to know he’s not that alone out here.

How can I best use your skills? Hard to find a way that’d be worse than all the wasted time at M.O., but I’ll make it easy for you: give me a target and let me shoot it. If it’s too close to shoot, I’m trained in hand-to-hand, and if it’s too far to shoot, it’ll never see me coming. Standard repertoire for a ranger.

What’s your opinion on the NCR? High enough to keep me enlisted, low enough to where I’ve got plenty to mock. We’re a good country, a damn good country. We’re the only real country actually left in the West. We’d be the best thing to ever crawl out of the bombed-out ruins of this war if it weren’t for all the bureaucratic bullshit, and the brass getting duller the higher you go. It’s all just song and dance and sloganeering to them out here. Whatever looks good on paper. They don’t give a shit what really happens to people out here, and if Caesar doesn’t kill us, that might. At least on the inside.

What’s it like being a ranger? Ranger training is the best, most brutal gauntlet this side of the Colorado. Hours and hours of days and days spent shooting, drilling, fighting, bringing the body to its breaking points, pouring blood and sweat just to get an inch past the wide-eye hopefuls who were always going to just wash out...and all of it just to stand on a fucking rooftop staring at ants and malnourished raiders on the interstate. I swear, if you gave headquarters a golden egg, they’d fucking cook it.

Were you at the battle of Hoover Dam? Was going to be, but believe it or not, I sat out sick. Got the fucking flu right before and was stuck at McCarran the whole time, half-lucid. Let me tell you, the whole tent of coughs and sneezes crowding around that radio, listening to the reports...when Hanlon ordered that retreat out of Boulder City, we were grabbing our rifles and getting ready to march out on foot, even if we could barely stand. We thought that was it. Of course, it wasn’t, and we cheered so loud when they radioed about the explosion that I hope Caesar damn well heard it.

Do you wish that you had been there? Of course I do. If I miss the next one because I’m stuck at the Outpost or some shit, I’m deserting with a dozen fed-up caravaneers to flank his fucking fort myself, if only for some goddamn excitement.

How do you feel about the Legion? Love ‘em. Joined the NCR because I just wanted to meet them that bad. Their new Legate’s such a heartthrob, I hear.

You’re not serious. (sucks teeth, deep sigh) Look. You saw Nipton. It was just a taste of what they do. I’ve seen good men die on crosses, and that’s a mercy compared to the good women. I hear when women sign up now, they get about five extra “are you sures?” from recruiters. Not officially, of course. Brass would never let people back home know how bad it is. But it’s just another thing that makes me glad I’m a sniper, sometimes. Engage at range. Out of reach.

What about Legion society? Do you know anything about life across the river? There’s nothing across that river. Nothing. (beat, pondering) Do you remember the Enclave War? Bitter, bloody, big explosion at Navarro? And the Brotherhood campaign out here? Even worse of a shitshow, but still, we won that out, too. But the Enclave and the Brotherhood at least stood for something. They were societies, or at least promises of one, and if things had shaken out the other way for the NCR at least something would still be standing here. The Legion isn’t like that. They aren’t “something.” They’re one big razor across Arizona, shaving everything down. And if we don’t stop them here, we never will.

What about their Legate? (with contempt) Lanius, “The Monster of the East.” Caesar must’ve plucked him out of hell or something after his first legate blew it at Hoover Dam. Word from recon is that the only reason we’re all still twiddling our thumbs there is that he’s out making friends for Caesar someplace, and he’ll be bringing them all back for a whole ‘nother goddamn jamboree soon. (tension broken by a funny thought; spoken dryly) Or should I say a Damboree. Since it’d be at the Dam.

Do you know anything about Mr. House? No. Closest I’ve ever been to the Strip has been McCarran, where I was too proud to get wasted on expensive booze in the casinos. As punishment, I got stuck with nothing to do but get shitfaced on cheap booze at the outpost. All I know is Mr. House runs the whole Strip himself, and there’s one casino, the Lucky 36 or something, that’s supposed to be all his. No one’s allowed in, no one’s ever come out. Frankly? Just strikes me as fucking weird.

Companion Quest: Giving Up the Ghost

After completing the sidequest “Eyes On the Prize” (in which the Courier checks Nipton for survivors), Ghost will remark that the Mojave’s going to hell, and all she can do is sit and watch. The Courier will reply that she ought to stop watching and travel with them, to which she’ll respond that her orders are absolute—but if the courier can change her orders somehow, she’d be indebted. The quest then begins.

= = = Stage 1: Deal with Jackson = = =

First, the Courier must speak to Ranger Jackson and convince him to consider Ghost’s reassignment. They can do this through the following dialogue options:

[Speech 80] This outpost is just waiting to be overrun by Legion. You’ll be the next Nipton unless you’re proactive.

[Speech 55; completed “Can’t You Find It In Your Heart” beforehand] Maybe I could tell your superiors about where I “found” these “lost” supplies, then.

[Barter 80] Ghost is an exceptional asset to the rangers. Stationing her here is a waste of valuable NCR resources.

[NCR Fame] There’s work to be done for the NCR out there, and Ghost is who I trust to do it with me.

[Black Widow] I’ve ways of making men come around...especially handsome men in uniform. (The Courier must then sleep with Ranger Jackson)

Note that the Courier can not simply complete the quest “Can’t You Find It In Your Heart?” as a favor to Jackson for Ghost’s reassignment. While he’ll let a caravaneer go, it’ll take more than clearing some ants from the road to get him to compromise his standing force and let go of a ranger. 

Alternatively, Jackson’s death will advance the quest.

Kill Jackson. Similar to Cass’ companion quest, Jackson can simply be killed. However, Ghost is far less sympathetic to this course of action and will confront the Courier over the murder. If Jackson is simply killed, the Courier will either need a convincing alibi [Speech 90] to argue that they weren’t responsible or admit to the murder. If the Courier fails the Speech check or admits to the murder, Ghost will turn hostile (“Maybe you didn’t fucking think this through, but do you know what we call someone who kills an NCR ranger? An enemy of the NCR rangers. Now, eat shit.”). Alternatively, the Courier can intimidate Ghost into silence with a [Terrifying Presence] option, after which a shaken but seething Ghost will simply ask the Courier to leave the outpost and never come back. Passing the Speech check is the way to not fail the quest from this option.

Kill Jackson and frame Cass. If the Courier kills Jackson themself, attempting to loot Jackson’s body will trigger a message suggesting that they could frame Cass for the murder by splashing whiskey on the body (so long as Cass is not currently the player’s companion and is currently at the Mojave Outpost, not the Lucky 38). By adding a whiskey bottle to Jackson’s body without themself or the body being discovered in the meantime, they can successfully implicate Cass for the murder, and explain as much to Ghost. She’ll buy it, since Cass was one of the most frustrated residents of the outpost and was drunk almost all the time. Cass will then disappear from the game, and if Lacey, Major Knight, or Ghost (if the Courier left the outpost before speaking to her again) are asked, they will explain that Cass was arrested by the NCR.

Have someone else kill Jackson. A desperate, fed-up caravaneer named Paul by the brahmin pens is willing to kill Jackson for 5,500 caps. This price can be negotiated down to 4,000 with a [Barter 60] check, and 3,500 with [Barter 75]. At midnight that night, Paul will attempt to sneakily kill Jackson. Alternatively, Paul can be incensed into attacking Jackson immediately and for free with a [Hot Blooded] trait check. In either case, though, there is no guarantee that Paul will succeed, and if Paul is killed then the Courier must advance the quest another way (though they can loot their spent caps from Paul’s body). When spoken to afterwards, Ghost will remark that she saw the Courier speaking to Paul and ask if they had anything to do with it. By passing a [Speech 50] check, the Courier can convincingly lie that they were trying to talk him out of it. With either the [Black Widow] or [Cherchez la Femme] perks, the Courier can lie and say that Paul very foolishly did it to try to impress them. With [Low Intelligence] the Courier can earnestly say that they thought “taking care” of Jackson meant doing something nice for him.

Somehow allow Jackson to die. If Jackson just somehow dies in an unaccounted way, such as from a spawned-in deathclaw eviscerating him in his own office, Ghost will remark on the strangeness of the situation but won’t blame the Courier. This is a failsafe option to prevent quest breakage.

= = = Stage 2: Find a Replacement = = =

If Jackson is alive, he’ll agree with the Courier that he ought to let Ghost go, but he’s still under orders to maintain a standing force at Mojave—a standing force which includes a highly trained sniper. If Jackson has been killed, Ghost will mention that Major Knight is next in command and would be glad to give her clearance, but that he won’t be able to do so without a replacement sniper, either. Either way, the Courier is tasked with finding a suitable replacement. The Courier can ask her for advice:

Who should I look for to be your replacement? They have to be NCR, obviously. Ex-NCR might work, too, so long as they’re in good standing. Any Dick or Jane off the road is a no-go, since brass put the kibosh on officially contracting mercenaries. Oh, and anyone you get would have to be well-trained. Not necessarily a ranger, but good enough to replace one, even for a sit-on-the-shitter job like this. Only the best and brightest get to stare at this fucking road all day, apparently.

Where should I look for your replacement? If you checked out some of the ranger stations around the Mojave, they might be able to move some people around. Hell, take it all the way to McCarran if you want, or with Hanlon. If you’re going to give them shit on my behalf, by all means, go nuts. A lot of higher-ups can be greased with enough favors, anyway. Whoever you get just needs the right credentials. Legion attacks get dragged asses and twiddled thumbs, sure, but bad paperwork would set a goddamn fire at headquarters.

The following characters can be recruited as the Mojave Outpost’s new watch:

A generic ranger. By speaking to the commanding officers of at least three of the NCR ranger camps across the Mojave with sufficient [NCR Fame], the Courier can speak to Chief Hanlon to arrange for Ghost’s replacement with a generic ranger. This option is impossible if “Return to Sender” has already been completed.

Craig Boone. If the Courier has completed “I Forgot to Remember to Forget” in a way that makes Boone repentant over his past, he can be persuaded to take over Ghost’s position as a good way to put his skills to use. Otherwise, he will refuse, either preferring to stay in Novac where he lived with Carla or not wanting to be stuck as a watchman again when he could be out killing Legionnaires. If selected, Boone’s home marker will change from Novac to the Mojave Outpost.

Manny Vargas. Novac’s other sniper can be convinced to take up Ghost’s post, but only if the Courier has completed “One For My Baby,” “Come Fly With Me,” and eradicated the Legion presence from Nelson. Once convinced that Novac seems safe, for now, he’ll be willing to reenlist if paid a generous salary. The Courier can either pay Manny 5,000 caps to reenlist now, pass a [Barter 65] check to explain that it’s a provisional reenlistment and reduce their bribe to 3,000, or if the Courier has already passed the [Confirmed Bachelor] check in dialogue with Knight, they can tell Manny about the cute little major sitting behind the desk all day there by his lonesome. Once convinced, Manny will relocate to the Mojave Outpost and take Ghost’s place.

Bryce Anders. This keen-eyed ranger can be recruited to Ghost’s position if he is rescued from the Vault 3 Fiends by the Courier. Once spoken with in Camp McCarran, the Courier can explain that the Mojave Outpost needs a new ranger stationed there. He will defer to Colonel Hsu’s authority on reassignments, and with a successful [Speech 60], [Medicine 40], or [NCR Fame] check, Hsu will agree to the reassignment on the grounds that it’s a useful position still sedentary enough to not complicate the ranger’s recovery.

Little Buster. The listless bounty hunter at Camp McCarran is looking for another career path and would be willing to take over Ghost’s do-nothing position. However, the only way to recruit him is to fabricate both credentials and enlistment records by either stealing personnel files from either Colonel Hsu’s office at Camp McCarran or from the filing cabinets at Camp Golf, or speaking to Daniel Contreras, who “knows a guy” who’ll take care of it if the Courier has already acquired access to Contreras' expanded inventory by siding with him in the unmarked quest “Dealing with Contreras.”

Private Halford. The sole survivor of Camp Guardian mentions that he wants to head back home through Mojave Outpost after being rescued from the mirelurk caves, at which point the Courier can mention no one is allowed to leave through there, and ask if he’d like to take Ghost’s position there instead. At first he’ll refuse, but with a [Speech 45] or [NCR Fame] check he can be convinced that a quiet, do-nothing watch assignment would be a lot better than anything else after what happened at Camp Guardian, to which he’ll agree. He will also relocate to the Mojave Outpost after being freed anyway, getting stuck like everyone else so that the speech check can be re-attempted. However, Halford isn’t considered well-trained enough for a ranger’s job. The Courier must speak to Jackson (or Knight, if Jackson is dead) and pass a [Speech 80] or [NCR Fame] check to make a strong endorsement, or a [Survival 55] check to explain how impressive it is that he survived an attack from so many mirelurks. Alternatively, the Courier can fabricate impressive enough credentials through the options required to assign Little Buster.

Once Ghost’s replacement has been assigned to the Mojave Outpost, the Courier only needs to speak to Ghost again. She will explain that she’s been “reassigned” to open patrol across the Mojave, ostensibly to track Legion activity, so long as she does so with the Courier. She also gains an additional dialogue option dependent on your choice of replacement:

What do you think of your replacement?

(Generic ranger) For this job? Any ranger’s as wasted as any other. I almost feel bad, I doubt she’ll like that fucking roof any more than I did...almost feel bad. Doesn’t quite cancel out the relief.

(Boone) First recon is one hell of a pull. Took right to it, too, like he was already used to it. Strikes me as the...quiet, contemplative type. Likes to think. Not much else to do up there, anyway. I bet those brahmin pins have never felt safer.

(Manny) First recon is one hell of a pull. Took right to it, too, like he was already used to it. Seems like a nice enough guy, and seems to be getting along with Major Knight. Hell, you love to see it.

(Bryce) A good man. Heard about what the Fiends did to him, and after all that, he certainly deserves a break. Didn’t think of this shit job as much of a vacation before, but seems like it’ll do him good.

(Buster) Not sure where the hell you found this guy, but if (Jackson / Knight) gave the okay, then...okay. I would’ve put a goddamn brahmin in a beret up there if it could have gotten me another assignment.

(Halford) The mirelurk guy? Yeah, he seems alright. I’ve never actually seen a mirelurk, but after hearing his story, I don’t think I want to. I didn’t even know we had a camp that far up there.

Speaking to Ghost after her replacement takes her position completes the quest, and from then on, she can now be recruited as a companion. However, similar to Boone, she will only remain the Courier’s companion if they maintain good reputation with the NCR, and as an active-duty ranger, her intolerance for anti-NCR actions is even more strict.

Ending Slides

If "Giving Up the Ghost” is started, but never completed:

NCR Victory. Ranger Ghost remained at Mojave Outpost, dutifully, thanklessly, and restlessly. When the rangers there received word that the Legion had made their move on the dam, the entire outpost went silent. Waiting. From her rooftop perch, at least she was the first to see the bearer of good news come up the road. In the moment, at least, it was worth everything to be there.

Legion, House, or Independent Victory. Ranger Ghost remained at Mojave Outpost, dutifully, thanklessly, and restlessly. When the rangers there received word that the Legion had made their move on the dam, the entire outpost went silent. Waiting. From her rooftop perch, she was the first to see the NCR’s retreat, as civilians and troopers alike began fleeing through the Long 15. She was right: this whole time, all she could do was watch.

Ghost is dead. Ghost, bitterly, died as she lived...(deep sigh) at the Mojave fucking Outpost.

If “Giving Up the Ghost” is completed:

NCR Victory: When legionnaires by the score descended upon Hoover Dam, Ghost was proud to have been one of the many rangers in the battle that kicked their shit in back across the Colorado. She celebrated with the rest of them, even a smile creeping onto her face every now and then. Still, Ghost returned to business before long, as part of a squad out East tracking down the straggling remnants of Caesar’s retreating Legion.

Legion Victory: Ghost was among the many rangers who fought at Hoover Dam, but when the army of legionnaires led by the Courier, to whom she owed her very presence there, proved unstoppable, she was ultimately among its many casualties. Their advance was too sudden, too overwhelming, for a clean evacuation, and a grisly duel with a centurion trapped her near the front. Still, the Legion never took Ghost alive. She made sure of it.

House or Independent Victory: The arrival of the Securitrons at Hoover Dam was a surprise to every NCR trooper stationed there, including Ghost. Their sudden turn against the NCR, and their allegiance to the Courier, even more so. The triumph of vanquishing the Legion was short-lived, then, as Ghost joined the forced retreat, one pale face in a sea of many. 

Ghost is dead: Despite her name, there was no supernatural flourish when Ghost died. She simply died like a ranger, fighting to the end. That’s all that mattered.

(Bonus) Cass’s Ending Slide if the Courier frames her for the murder of Jackson:

Rose of Sharon Cassidy spent all of her time at the Mojave Outpost in a drunken stupor, which is why when Major Knight oversaw her arrest for the murder of Ranger Jackson, it took so long to get exonerated. By the time the alibi was pieced together and the evidence was admitted as circumstantial, the battle of Hoover Dam shifted NCR’s attention elsewhere, and the crime was never solved. For a few months in the clink, though, at least Cass got what she wanted: home, and finally away from the outpost.

[gogo-jojo-imagines]

(A/n: hope this is ok and didn’t butcher the characters lol, it’s been a while

Spoiler warning for Part 5 at the end of Fugo’s ask )

Bruno: 

Bruno’s the type of guy whose demeanour makes you feel safe, that if you follow under his wing, things are gonna be ok.

But since he’s doing the heavy lifting for his squad, sometimes a guy’s gotta have someone to do the same for him.

He wants someone that he can confide in, that cares for him in subtle ways and doesn't take his excuses for not taking a break for an answer - to an extent. 

More often than not you might leave him his lunch on his desk when he’s swamped with work. Or leave him his coffee, or a note, or a kiss on his temple. He’s simply putty in your hands when you do that. 

You still love him even though he’s got a schedule and a business to take care of, and even though he told you that at the start of the relationship, and you knew the challenges, even now you powered through because you love him so much and he might just float out of the chair and into the sky he’s high on love.

You’ll complain that he hasn’t been out of his study, that he’s missing on sleep, and he’ll tell you gently that he has work to do, but both of you know it's a front for his responsibility.

But if you tell him that you miss him when he really hasn’t taken a break, and then he decides, he really can’t just leave you waiting on him for too long now, can he?

You take care of him without complaints and still give him love, and he thinks you’re an angel from heaven 

Your efforts are not in vain; he’ll treat you so sweetly and intimately you’ll be wondering what you saw in your past loves and leave you spellbound

Abba: 

Abba’s the type where he used to have a twinkle in his heart, big sparkles in his eyes and an unbroken streak of loyalty.

But now that’s broken, and he feels unworthy, and he’s probably harbouring self resentment as deep as the ocean and who would love a broken piece like himself? Who would want to give him another chance?

Enter Reader - stage left

If you show Abba unconditional patience, he’ll come around, and he’ll absolutely flourish - even if he might come off prickly at the start when you meet him

Of course if he throws jibes and remarks at you at the start (which he might do since he’s acting on instinct and a knee jerk reaction with trying to protect himself from being hurt again), he needs someone to put him in his place, and tell him to shut the fuck up, and he’ll realise how he hurt you, and how much he cares, 

Will probably need some time to parse through his emotions, but if you wait for him, it’ll be worth while 

He loves your spontaneity, knowing you wont go overboard like Narancia on a sugar high to make him laugh - just enough to make him smile while taking things easy

He’s probably worried half to death about your safety in Passione, but if you’re a stand user he’ll chill out a little bit

Big ‘I’ve known Reader for x amount of time and if anything were to happen to them I’d kill everyone in this room and then myself’ vibes

Mista:

Honey, you got a storm coming

Mista is your standard fuck boy for a first impression but he’s so well put together with everything else with his tastes that you wonder what the hell you did to impress him

Mista wants a companion, someone to treasure the world with - probably someone that likes to try new things, go new places, do stuff with him

Super chill, he’s very laid back - he probably needs someone to be a little switched on than him in his day to day life

‘Hey Mista, did you get that report to Bruno yet?” Will give you a big kiss and a thank you if you do so as he tears ass to get it done

He’s got a know how for good food, he cares about his appearance,, he obviously is proud of his dress sense - he needs someone that respects him and his lifestyle choices. 

It doesn't matter if you’re a chill person or someone that’s really stressed out,  as long as you let him be himself and enjoy life with him, that’s the type that Mista is on the lookout for

You might be shy or flustered about whatever and he’ll always have this dopey smile on his face because he loves you so much 

He’s a big romantic at heart though, he will absolutely wine and dine you

If you have a connection with him, he’ll encourage you to be your best

(If you ground him when he’s having a 4 phobia freakout, he might just think about marrying you)

Narancia:

Meme machine extreme

He’s not afraid to voice his opinions and get into fights - it's how he was raised on the streets

He’s opened his heart too and been abandoned, so sometimes the way he acts is a way for his survival

It’s a man eat man world out there, so he lashes out, gets into fights, and is triggered when his vulnerabilities are made fun of

He needs someone that takes care of him and gives him plenty of affection and encouragement, head pats, kisses on cheeks, encouragement when he gets something right

He’ll be super sceptical at first, Like.. seems fake but ok

Once he knows you’re the real deal he’ll be so excited to show you around and tell everyone all about you

This little orange is vibrating something fierce  

Someone that gives affection, heaps of patience, and someone that doesnt mind teaching him some basic math - you’re way nicer than Fugo anyway

You give him a kiss on the cheek and suddenly he’s blowing past year 3 math like a speedboat in water

Probably someone that can keep up with him too, he’s excitable and you gotta have enough energy to follow with whatever he’s got going on in his head

Heartfelt and sensitive, he’ll take good care of you Anon

Giorno:

Someone that understands his background. You don’t have to come from a similar household that Giorno did , but if you do it’s an extra plus

If he finds out that you went through hell, and still managed to hold onto a positive outlook, he’ll be drawn to you

It’s a little difficult because, Giorno is the type of person who will bring ease to everyone, like Bruno, but he also has this magnetic quality about him that draws people to him

But he’ll know if you’re special just by a single glance

It's more of a slow burn with him, but for him he’s trying to figure out if he can trust you, and figure out how you tick on the inside

He enjoys figuring out how you think, not in a creepy way, but he’s fascinated by your experiences, your thoughts, and your actions

When he establishes a baseline of trust with you in a fight, that's when the relationship really begins to flourish

If you have his back during a stand fight, or an argument with someone else, he’ll definitely notice it

And when you trust him completely, even when he’s got a batshit crazy plan, he knows he’s got a partner for life by his side

Fugo:

Despite being known for having a short fuse, Fugo is a pretty emotionally sensitive guy

Someone that’d supports him unconditionally definitely helps, and makes him feel like he’s not up against the world by himself with the lot that he’s been given in life

He’s not a villain in your eyes, when he runs away from the gang before the fight with Diavolo, 

You’re with him through thick and thin, and you’ll never know how much you truely helped him during that crossroads in his life

Fugo appreciates someone that’s intelligent, and he’s not afraid of asking questions that pique his natural curiosity

If you’ve got a special interest, or if he has knowledge in an area, he’s happy to either talk about his interest if you ask  him, otherwise he’s happy to hear you talk about whatever you’re into at the moment

He’s alike to Abbacchio that his anger manifests itself for a myriad of reasons, but he’ll be drawn to you regardless if you’re there by his side and give him patience

He’ll be drawn to a gentle presence, someone that’s calm, an antithesis to the storm raging inside him

He’ll appreciate everything you do for him, and the amount of time you stick by him, even if you’re being a comforting presence

-Gyro mod 

[paintalyx]

hey can you maybe recommend some of your favourite fics please!!

aaaah, i'm a little behind on asks because of college but i saw this and i couldn't help but scramble to respond as soon as i found the time!!!! i'm super flattered that you're asking me for fic recommendations, but you didn't specify any fandoms or genres so i can't guarantee that any of these will be your cup of tea (feel free to shoot me another ask if you'd like to elaborate though!!!!). i'll try to be as diverse as an unapologetic angstlord can be, so here we go:

(note: while i did my best to add cws, it's still possible that something slipped past me, so please be mindful. as a rule of thumb, i'm not going to add warnings for stuff that's already depicted in canon material)

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campfire in your chest (haikyuu!!, canonverse, tsukkiyama-main & kagehina-side)

Kei realizes in their second year of high school that he's probably been in love with Yamaguchi since they were ten. However hopeless he might be in handling that situation, Kei prays he's at least not as hopeless as Hinata and Kageyama. But he just might be.

four tags for you: pining, slow-burn, friends to lovers and unresolved sexual tension. this one's a classic, an old favourite of mine. i remember reading it on lunch breaks in high school while daydreaming about my crush and getting frustrated with tsukishima because "dammit, at least one of us needs to get it together and that won't be me anytime soon". also, once your done with reading this, please do yourself a favour and spare some time to check out the companion piece to this fic, "stay, stay, stay", which can be summed up simply as "meanwhile, kagehina".

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a soft place to fall (jojo's bizarre adventure: vento aureo, canon divergence, narancia/trish); cw: major character death

“This is my wound, too,” Narancia softly says, eyes shadowed by so many dark lashes. He presses down over her pulse, and Trish’s heart jumps to meet it. “And this is my heartbeat. I can be brave because you’re brave.”

In the ten days between Corsica and Sardinia, Trish learns about her new power, reflects on the past, and finds her reasons.

this deserves so much attention!! i love the writing style, the character interactions— everything just feels special and different! it's been a hot minute since i watched part 5, but i have distinct and fond memories of reading this fic. it really did trish's character justice and, as a sweet bonus, it successfully got me hooked on this adorable pairing.

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count the days until they blur, then keep on counting (mob psycho 100, canon divergence, gen); cw: torture, child abuse, imprisonment, starving

What Teruki wanted was power, right? What he wanted was to hurt people? Even if he didn't, he's got it now.

okay, this *may* seem bad, but it's hands down one of my all time favourite reads, not just as a fanfic. it has a happy end (worry not!), reigen being a reluctant disaster dad and teru— god, i love the way he thinks, feels, *copes* and changes as a person over the course of this fic. it shows all sides of him, the good, the bad and the ugly. he tries, he struggles, he relapses and recovers. some works just stick with you forever, and i'd be lying if i said that this one didn't change my life. like, i thought that it was the bee's knees the first time i read it and i was so mad that it had to end that i talked my friend's ear off about how unfair it was (though upon re-reading, when i was older and capable of understanding things a little better, i decided that the ending was perfect as it was). it's definitely not a work that i would recommend to someone sensitive, but i think i've established myself as someone who enjoys meaningful angst.

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storm shelter (genshin impact, canon compliant, gen); cw: animal death

Three different times, over the years, Diluc and Kaeya are trapped together in the snow.

i'm a sucker for unconventional sibling dynamics and messy, conflicted feelings and this fic *provides*. it's clear that diluc and kaeya care for each other deeply, but they're both stubborn dumbasses about it (mihoyo, let these two talk again, i'm begging you). though the scenario in each snippet is somewhat similar, pov shifts to kept things fresh and prevented the story from becoming repetitive.

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being a wingman is a full time job (genshin impact, canon compliant, chiluc)

“What are you doing in Mondstadt?”

“You didn’t show up this week!” Childe says. “Aether brought Hu Tao instead. She really handed it to me, but it just wasn’t the same.”

“You…” Diluc stops. “You came all the way to Mondstadt just because I didn’t show up?”

Oh?

-

Kaeya discovers Diluc has a crush and, despite not being on the best of terms with his estranged brother, takes it upon himself to be the ultimate wingman.

this isn't among my favourite pairings for either party, but rumour says that if you say "oh, chiluc is just a crackship" enough times, you'll start shipping it for real so here we are. boy, where do i start?? a lighthearted, humorous fic every once in a while is good for the soul, basically a requirement. obvious idiot/oblivious idiot is a trope that i don't think i'll ever get tired of, but making the entire story be told from wingman's pov adds some extra spice to it.

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a cheap imitation (durarara, canonverse, shizaya); cw: graphic depictions of violence and gore

“Attached to your neck is a collar that will inject a poison into your jugular vein two days from now. Forcibly removing the device will also trigger the poison. Somewhere on this island is the antidote.”

His hands reached up to his neck and he felt the cool metal of the collar.

“Live or die. Make your choice.”

god. these two are so disgusting and problematic, i love them. this fic pulls no stops. the author really looked at these two dumbasses and said "yeah, the only way they'd ever get along realistically is in a life or death situatio— wait," and we gotta appreciate that. well-thought-out survival stories are a very specific niche that i've always enjoyed, so adding familiar characters into the mix can only get me more intrigued. author also snatches all my uwus for appealing to my inner neat-freak and consistently finding different ways to give the boys hygienic products. if you want drama, tension and survival with some humour sprinkled in for the ~flavour~, this is a perfect read!

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i admit i got a little carried away, but honestly??? who wouldn't when talking about something as wonderful as taking something that someone has poured their heart and soul into adding onto it out of love and passion??? i'm totally setting myself up for psychoanalysis with these recs, but tastes are subjective. i hope you'll find something of interest!! ^^

[sunnieskies02]

Shinsou's been feeding a stray cat for the last two weeks, he finally decides to take it and a girl shows up at his door one day claiming that's her cat, Mango! Of course, she's so pretty he's gotta invite her in and fluffy fluffs (aside from Mango)!

Here you go @pocket-is-obsessed @onyxiana-is-obsessed Your second husbando Shinso!!

Where’s Mango?!

Shinso Hitoshi x Reader

1.3k Words

Trigger Warnings: n/a

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

This cat had a lasting impression on him. Its orange and brown fur was ridiculously soft and was surprised that a tame cat would be on the streets like that.

When he first saw the cat, it was lounging around the convenience store he would walk past on his way home. The cat was laying on the concrete and Shinsou saw how the light shone onto its fur making the cat glow.

He walked towards the cat and backed off slightly, Shinsou made a clicking noise and the cat slowly crept towards him. The orange cat dipped its head underneath his hand and started to purr, Shinsou sighed and rubbed the cats head and scratched under its chin. Shinsou backed away from the cat and went into the convenience store to purchase milk and a bowl, he poured the milk into the bowl and watched the orange cat lick the milk up.

So everyday walking back from UA he would pet the cat and give it milk to drink. And over the span of two weeks he would’ve never thought on a Friday evening, going home he would have this orange animal angle curled up in his arms going home.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

You were panicking. You don’t know the last time you saw Mango, that was the name of your cat. Mango was a sweetheart, an orange, brown and white ball of fluff. You groomed her, cared for her and despite her being bratty when you didn’t give her attention she well meowed her heart out. But she was your baby.

You couldn’t stand not having Mango at your side, scratching her soft head and hearing her sweet little purrs. And you hated that you left the door open when you took out the trash because that's when she made the great escape.

Your heart was heavy. You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. For two whole weeks you looked for your sweet little mango cat but to no avail you couldn’t find her.

Tears started to prickle the corner of your eyes and pour down the sides of your cheeks as you started to think the worst about your sweet lil angel. As the tears started to pour down your flushed face a little old woman walked out from the store and handed you a tissue.

“Pretty people such as yourself shouldn’t cry. A bad break up?” You chuckle half-heartedly and wipe the tears from your face with the tissue she gave you. “ I wish but no I lost my sweet little Mango.”

“Mango?” the little lady questioned.

“My cat, s-she’s a small orange and brown cat with a white belly. She’s the sweetest little thing. I-” you were interrupted by the little old lady. “Oh, that cat. Well for the longest that cat sat on the outside of the shop and a handsome youngman would feed her everyday,” she said.

Your face lit up and asked her “W-well where is she? Where is my sweet little angel?” She lifted up a finger and said “Well the nice young man I told you about just picked up the little thing and took it with him. He lives a few houses down, he has a huge tuft of indigo colored hair that matches his eyes.”

Your heart was at ease, someone was taking care of your cat but you still wanted Mango back in your arms. You thank the little old lady and walk down the street to figure out where this indigo haired boy was, and to your luck you see him walking back to a two storied house with Mango perched on his shoulder.

The indigo haired boy turned to face you, and you quickly hid behind a wall. That little old lady was right, when she said that the indigo haired boy was handsome. The way his fair fanned from the sides to his face to the top, his eyes were cold too, but held some type of...secret in his eyes.

You were infatuated with him, and let's pray to god that you would be able to speak with him to get your cat back.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Shinsou loved his new companion, he decided to name his furry companion Tangerine. That day he decided to take Tangerine on a walk and when he was finishing the walk he saw a girl peeking around the corner looking at him. He saw her stare a little bit long at him but once he made eye contact with her she dipped behind the wall and disappeared.

It didn’t matter to him, he wanted to make sure that the cat was okay before he was. Shinsou liked cats more than he liked people. He continued to care for Tangerine but more often than not, when he would be walking home he saw a girl sit at the convenience store staring at him. He always made eye contact with him but it resulted in the girl looking away furiously. But he didn’t think that would land him in this awkward situation, a girl at his door claiming that Tangerine was his cat.

“You’re not lying to me?” he asked coldly.

“N-no. That’s my sweet little Mango,” y/n responded sheepishly. She scratched the back of her hand and looked down at the floor. Shinsou couldn’t help but notice how the setting sun lit up her e/c eyes. More or less how the sun gave her a smooth and pleasant shadow adarks the concrete in front of his house.

He scratched the back of his neck and stepped back and motions the girl inside.

“Come on. I truly need to prove that you are Mango’s/Tangerine’s owner.” Y/n looked at the boy concerningly but if she truly wanted Mango back in her arms y/n would have to comply.

Y/n took her shoes off at the front of the house and walked it. He motioned for y/n to sit on the couch and she did so, the indigo haired boy sat across from her.

“Are you truly Tangerine’s owner?”

“Ye-” Y/n’s body went still and her mind went blank, they started to panic. The boys voice was cold, “Tell the truth, I’ve been watching you stare at me everyday when I walk back from school. Are you really Tangerine’s owner or just some creepy stalking?’

Y/n responded swiftly, “ I am Mango’s owner. I looked for her for two whole weeks and I started to believe that she was dead or truly gone. I-” Shinsou saw tears prickle the corner of her eyes and roll down her face. Y/n continued “I just want Mango home, she’s been my sweet little kitty for years and she’s been there for me since I was little. I mean you no harm, I just want my sweet little kitty kat home.’

Shinsou felt a sharp pain in his chest, they truly were the owner, especially since his Tangerine, (y/n’s Mango) hopped into her lap and nestled between her thighs.

Y\n came out of their trance and stared at the indigo boy and he looked sincere.

“Look, I-I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure that you were telling the truth because I became fond of Tange-I mean Mango too.” He looked at you and saw how soft your smile was and how pretty your e/c eyes were. He got lost in them, Shinsou stood up from the love seat and asked y/n “Um… you would like something to drink?”

“Yes please. Oh and I-I never got your name. Im Y/n its a pleasure to meet you.” Shinsou looked back at y/n and said “ I’m Shinsou Hitoshi, its a pleasure to meet you.” You smile at him, and he returned a weak one.

You were happy that you found another person that had a soft spot for feline creatures and little did you know that you would be hanging with him everyday afterschool to play with Mango and his own cat Kouda.

[dreaming-gamer]

DMC Week Day 7: College AU

For my final entry for DMC week, I chose to write the trio as college students playing Final Fantasy XIV – Nero, V & Nico.

A self-indulgent AU fic (haven’t played Final Fantasy XIV in years) based on a few college headcanons.

Thank you to everyone and all that’s read my works during this week! Your support means a lot ❤️❤️❤️ Here we go, hope you enjoy!

Nero as Warrior, tank

Nico as Machinist, damage dealer

V as Summoner, damage dealer

***

Nero nervously stared at his health-bar steadily going down as attack after attack scratched down his life despite all the buffs his character had on. The controller vibrated furiously in his hands, his jaw clenched. The boss would be dead at any second and the healer was trying their best but the bad connection they had so far had was making Nero nervous. Wasn’t a heal long overdue? Weren’t their character just standing still?

“If you perish, I got Resurrection ready.” V said, his voice ever so calm that it actually made Nero grin. Was he ever happy he’d gotten himself this new headset that let him regulate game and party sounds separately? Yeah, they were in a bad spot, but the boss was so close to dead now. They’d get through it.

“Nico!” He called the second the limit break chime could be heard in his headset.

“On it!” Nero could basically hear the buttons on her controller being slammed, together with her laughter. “Eat this!” Nico’s machinist character pulled out the crossbow, ready for the shot that would send the boss to oblivion.

“Dammit!” Nero shifted his character as an AoE marker appeared under his feet, along with certain death as his health was reaching less than 5000. Even if V revived him instantly, Nero as the tank dying now might just spell their doom.

The boss inched after him, leaving the indicated line of Nico’s limit break. Winds whipped around their characters, but they all managed to avoid more injury.

“Whoa, whatcha doing?!” Nico exclaimed in disbelief.

“Just aim again!” Thrill of Battle was back off cooldown, restoring some of his health. Sweet.

“It got used up, asshole! Healer dc’ed!” Nico’s voice snapped his focus back. Another buff off cooldown and he used it.

“What?!” Did that have to happen at this crucial moment? One quick glance at the party list said ??? for the healer’s status.

“Nero, your Holmgang should be ready for use. Just hold on.” V calmly stated and Nero blinked as he realized V was right. Had he been counting seconds since the last four minutes??

“Fuck!” The progress bar over the boss’ life told him a tankbuster was coming. Nero waited, his finger on the trigger for Holmgang, his sweet 6-seconds of almost invincibility to save him if needed. He pushed the button, the bright orange line above the boss filled the entire way, the hit connected, the controller in his hands vibrating valiantly. Hit points sailing down to zero. Swears bubbled up in his chest, flowed out of him like a sailor when the boss started to move towards Nico. But it had sooo little HP left!

“I pushed the button, I swear!” Nero shouted in disbelief, heart pounding in his chest, did they really have to redo this??

A sharp blast of white light engulfed the boss, sending it to the ground and the screen faded to black for a second before the victory cutscene played, with Nero’s own character magically on his feet. This was why he loved having V as a summoner on their team.

“Freaking finally! We did it!” Nico celebrated. Nero grinned, feeling as if a stone lifted off his shoulders.

“Let’s check gear!”

“No healer means one less to compete with!” Nico singsonged, letting her character put her grabby hands on the treasure chest. A healer chestpiece popped up on screen. Nero’s sigh was mimicked by Nico, none of them were a healer, not even close. At least there was a Strength ring for him to grab.

Nero blinked as the notifications told him V had grabbed the healer chestpiece. Unprompted, the summoner spoke.

“Perhaps I should go as a scholar, for our next dungeon. Our luck with healers tonight has been… less than fruitful.”

“Nah man, continue with summoner if you want, we’ll be--”

“Do it!” Nico stated on the top of her lungs, her microphone bumping into her chin as she grabbed for a cigarette. “I wanna see the end of the next dungeon tonight!”

“I can go paladin for extra heals.” Nero shrugged, even if neither of his companions could see it.

“And give up that sweet damage, really?” Nico teased, making Nero huff.

“I can play defensively every once in a while.”

“Uh huh…” Nico snickered, while all he heard from V was a chuckle.

“What, I can! Come on, let’s go to the next one!” Nero prompted and grabbed for his soda, eager to go again. Leaning his head back for a sip, there were just two drops meeting his tongue. Damn, when had his beverage run out?

“As… enjoyable as progressing further would be, I am fairly certain you both have lectures in the morning?” V said matter-of-factly while there was a weak rustling of a book page being turned coming from his microphone.

“Yeah, so? I can do it for a bit longer--” Nero started, checking his phone for time. It was waaay too late! “It’s already FIVE?!”

Dry coughing made it clear Nico had just swallowed smoke.

“Y-y-yer…” Cough. “kid-ding!”

“Hell no!” Nero exclaimed.

“Why didn’t ya say somethin’?!” Nico coughed at the sole calm person.

“I did try to, both at one and three o’clock. You both were a bit too… absorbed in what we were doing.” V calmly stated, making Nero groan, oh yeah, they might have been into everything. It wouldn’t be the first time…

“I gotta scram, I’ve got an exam tomor-- today!” With that, Nico’s character was logged out, her voice chat icon offline.

Nero sighed.

“Hope that works out for her. What about you V?” The sign out option showed up at the click of a menu and Nero clicked himself out, the calming music of the title screen trickling through his second-hand headset that smelled of energy drink. At most he’d be able to get what, two hours of sleep? Was it even worth it at this point?

“I will attempt to sleep. I do not have a lecture until the afternoon.”

“Lucky you, vampire.” Nero snorted, his dormmate’s chuckle meeting his ears. “Catch you at lunch then?”

“If I have awakened until then, yes.”

“Great.” Nero knew he should log off, get some sleep. But damn, he didn’t feel sleepy at all. He knew something would keep him up, if he went now.

“Hey V?” He tried, hoping the other hadn’t shut off his headset just yet.

“Yes Nero?” V didn’t sound bothered by the quiet inquiry, despite being about to head to sleep. Nero inhaled, through his nose.

“I told you my grade dropped a bit, right? From last exam?” During the day, he brushed it off, no problem. But at night, it was hard to not feel some… nervousness over what could happen, if his grades dropped too much. Nero needed to keep it up, if he wanted a new scholarship and he not only wanted that scholarship, he needed it so badly to stay.

“Yes.” A pause, followed by V softly closing a book. “Are you worried it might happen again?” He softly asked.

Nero scratched his nose, V even knew before he voiced the issue? He wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or called out.

“Yeah, something like that. I know our subjects are pretty different…” No shit, considering V was reading the classical poems and literary works of people whose names Nero barely could pronounce. But V had great study technique, always fixing his assignments on time, something that Nero had failed to do, several times. He admired that, about the dorm vampire with a love for classical music. V’s voice was always a joy to listen to as well. Maybe he didn’t say everything he was thinking, but his voice was deep, calming at this late hour.

“But, you up for studying together? Someday this week? I think I need someone to help me not procrastinate so much and Nico is not that…” If anything, she either sat with her notes and realized she had found out something brilliant for her own studying, or she was digging the rock music Nero always put on while studying, just as much as he was.

“I don’t mind.” V replied, making Nero grin with relief over having one guy in his corner. “We can start with hiding your headphones. Or your Bluetooth speaker.”

“Right…” Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea, Led Zeppelin did snatch his focus otherwise. Nero let out a small laugh. “But you’ll give the headphones back, right? I need those for my morning runs.”

“Hmm, perhaps.” His dormmate teased.

“Or you’ll come along on my morning runs to keep me company?” Nero tried, he had given hints to get V to join him in the fresh air, the early morning sun for weeks now.

“Too chilly for me, I’m afraid.” Was the soft reply. “I will retire for now, Nero. Do try to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, fine… Thanks V.” Nero’s eyelids actually felt a bit heavier now.

“You’re welcome. Goodnight. Or perhaps, good morning.” V replied with a chuckle.

Nero groaned, giving a goodnight before ending the voice chat.

[himbowelsh]

I have a sudden need for modern AU Shifty and Tab (+Smokey) friendship HC, in case you are inspired? Thank you ❤❤❤

Oh gosh, alright! So in a modern AU, these guys would definitely know each other for a few years  ---  they probably all went to the same university, and had a few classes together, so became fast friends that way. Shifty and Tab are both the sort of loyal friends who have each others’ backs no matter what, and when Smokey was caught in a jam, they helped cover for him. As a result, he didn’t get in trouble with Professor Sobel, and met two really cool guys. After that, they were basically inseparable.

You gotta understand, Shifty and Tab are both massive animal lovers, but dog people especially. Tab is the one who suggests volunteering at the animal shelter. Shifty has to be talked into it  (he’s already working at the nature center, teaching kids about the outdoors, and helping coach his cousin’s little league team) but Tab is persistent.    “I won’t do it if you don’t,” he declares   ----  and, when Shifty levels him with an unimpressed look,   “Okay, I definitely will, but it will be way better if we do it together! It’ll matter more, Shift, y’know?”

(They ask Smokey too, but he laughs in their faces. Smokey is not a dog person. He’s got a lovely iguana named Iago, and needs no other life companion.)

So, Shifty and Tab end up volunteering together, and it’s definitely the best decision they could have made. Shifty enjoys it immensely; animals naturally take to him, and he becomes fond enough of a few of the pets that leaving at the end of the day is really tough.

Tab, though. God, he just thrives there. It’s something he’s so happy doing, and he lights up when he’s around the animals (sometimes Shifty takes a break from work just to watch Tab do his thing, grinning at the unabashed happiness on his friend’s face). Tab loves to teach them tricks and train them, he loves to give the animals exercise, his energy seems limitless...

After a few months, working at the shelter becomes his prevailing interest. Even when Shifty can no longer volunteer after a while, Tab keeps going, joining the team as an actual employee. He’s formed such a close bond with some of the animals that it’s physically painful to leave them behind at the end of each day. When pets get adopted out, he’s overjoyed, of course, but he takes it hard.

There’s one pup he’s bonded with in particular  ---  a scrawny, resilient mutt with boundless energy named Trigger. He’s constantly showing his friends pics of him on his phone, and even Smokey has to admit, Trigger is adorable.

The day before the shelter’s massive Adopt-A-Pet drive  ---  which usually sees half of the shelter cleaned out, it’s pets sent to good homes  ---  Tab’s acting off. Shifty texts him a few times, but can’t get much reply. Knowing the big day is tomorrow, he’s pretty sure he knows why. Tab’s probably busy, and a little down too. Shifty texts him one more time  ---  ‘if you need anything, just give me a call!  :)’   ---  and turns in for the night.

He’s woken at 1am to his phone buzzing, which...  to be fair, he kind of invited on himself.

Except it’s not Tab calling. It’s Smokey, and as soon as Shifty answers the phone, his friend’s voice, tight with glee, blares through the speakers. “Shift, you gotta come down here,” he exclaims. “You gotta  --- oooh-ho-ho man, you’re not gonna believe this!” In the background, he can hear a voice that sounds suspiciously like Tab shouting “You called Shifty? Traitor!”

(You’ve got to understand  ---  in a crisis, Tab has a choice between calling Shifty, who will absolutely be ride-or-die but will probably be disappointed in him; or Smokey, who is slightly less ride-or-die, and will mock him mercilessly.)

So anyways, Shifty rocks up and Tab’s got a dog in his bathtub.

Like, not bathing it. The dog’s just sort of...  chilling there. He’s got a blanket put down, is munching on a rawhide, and seems perfectly happy. Tab, however, looks like he might faint.

He did not, as he very fervently explains, steal a dog. He just...  borrowed Trigger for a very short time, and as soon as Adoption Day is over, he’s going to give him back. Just...  not now. At the moment, it’s not a good idea.

This is fine, except Tab lives with three other guys, and two of them are actively not dog people.  (Skinny likes cats and Smokey has already been explained. Blithe, who is a dog person, is basically a ghost around the apartment anyway, so he barely gets a vote.)

“I need to hide him for a little while  ---”  (”Yeah,” adds Smokey in the background, “because he can’t stay here! I’m not letting dog hair all over our couch!”)   “--- so could I please, please, just...  give him to you.”

Shifty blinks. He stares. Finally, he sighs.

Given the amount of trouble Popeye and McClung have dragged him into in the past, this is objectively nothing  ---  but still, maybe he needs more law-abiding friends.

At least ones who won’t drag him into situations like this  ---   driving home at half-past-two in the morning, with Floyd Talbert and his new dog hunched in the back of his pickup truck, heads down like they’re wanted by the FBI.

Once Tab leaves the dog with Shifty  ---  after a very emotional goodbye, and a longer hug than Shifty feels he really deserves  ---   the only evidence of the night’s events are the many, many pictures Smokey’s saved on his phone. Trigger makes himself comfortable in the corner of Shifty’s living room, on a very nice pillow...  but some time in the night, he makes his way into Popeye’s room. And Popeye’s bed.

They almost have to take Popeye to the goddamn hospital.

(Popeye posts about it in the groupchat later, and Smokey just sends the   ‘😂’ emoji ten times with no explanation.)

But Tab knows he can trust Shifty with anything  ---  so when he returns to Shifty’s apartment that night, eager to put Trigger back where he belongs, he’s surprised to find Shifty and Trigger lounging on the couch together, looking very comfortable.

“Tab,” Shifty says, upside down, because Trigger has laid down on his stomach and it’s an awkward position but he’s unwilling to move, “What d’you suppose it might take to adopt this dog?”

Tab freezes.  B e t r a y a l . 

“You see, I’ve grown a bit fond of him, and  ---”

He has to stop, because Tab’s turned an awkward shade of white-purple and looks like he’s about to cry. Shifty breaks into a grin, and some clenched fist in Tab’s stomach relaxes.

“I was only thinking...  you worry so much about Trigger getting adopted, that is might solve the problem to just adopt him yourself.”

“You know I can’t do that while I’m working there, Shift. And the guys at home...”

“Right, I know... but if a friend were to do it...  it wouldn’t be like losing him at all, would it?”

When Tab turns to face Shifty, his eyes are wide, mouth agape. He genuinely looks like Shifty’s just promised him the moon.

Anyways, that’s how Tab and Shifty become dog parents.

He spends weekdays living with Shifty  (Popeye’s grown quite fond of him, and seems to think of Trigger as a wiry-haired pillow)  and the weekends staying with Tab. The situation is non-offensive enough that his roommates can’t complain. Tab comes over to visit him practically every day anyways, taking him for long walks and playing with him in the middle of Shifty’s living room, while Shifty watches. It’s...  literally the most wholesome co-parenting arrangement that’s ever existed.

(Sometimes, Smokey accompanies Tab, for the sheer purpose of filming the two of them playing with Trigger. For some reason, ‘hot guys and dog’ drives social media wild, and Smokey’s gained hundreds of followers ever since he made them a regular feature of his account. He’s thinking of starting an Instagram just for their little ‘family’, and has named himself honorary Weird Uncle.)

[cheatdeathsarchive]

Her dress is the color of the sunset when it’s warm and bright and paints the world that pretty orange-gold. It goes well with her hair, her freckles, her eyes, her smile, and Six likes how light it all makes her feel. It’s not like Benny, not like House. She laughs and giggles and they walk arm in arm down the lit up streets. Six thinks about how Ronnie was in love once and wonders if it felt like this.

Cause she thinks she feels it, thinks she gets it. If love is a color maybe it’s orange. The dress catches the light in a way -- from orange to yellow to gold, and it’s better than any sunset, she thinks. She wants to tell Ronnie, too, but the butterflies in her stomach fly into her throat and she doesn’t know how to rightly say it yet. There will be time later.

There’s an... what’s the term? An Ellie Fant in the room. Six doesn’t know who that is or why her presence is so big, but she’s here and it is. Ellie is one they’ve both been happy to ignore. There were dresses to buy, drinks to be had. There was music and dancing and pretending like things were alright for a day. There was soft hair to rest their cheeks against, and the teasing of fingertips at calloused knuckles and sheepish glances that were safe from wry comments.

They paint the town red like Jane likes to say. They out-party the NCR troopers, watch people come and go and give them all a story which is usually the opposite of how Six likes to daydream. This is fun too, though -- to have a face and to wonder about all that is behind it. The sun is still waiting for its debut, but the horizon is turning a pretty light purple, and Six thinks that would be a pretty color on Veronica Santangelo, too.

Robert House is livid, still so livid, but Six still has run of the Lucky 38. Probably as an incentive. Probably because he knows she’ll go through with what he demands. Not on his terms, she thinks, Not when I’ve learned from Benny and fooled the Legion. Not when I could talk a dying man out of his last drop of water.

Her plan will work. It has to work. They sneak quietly down the hall in case any of their other companions are spending the night in their rooms. No doubt though their exaggerated whispers and giggling are louder than they think. Nobody bothers them all the same. Six turns the radio in her suite on, and Veronica looks around like she’s never been in here before even though she has.

Six loves that -- she does it too sometimes. One time they found a whole mess of old world coins in the couch cushions. Another time they found a time capsule of old world treasures hidden under a mattress. It’s fun to explore the places people haven’t gotten to in ages. Their party could keep going, but Ellie Fant is here and waiting, her arms crossed and Veronica is sick of her presence, too.

“Have you decided?” She asks with a conviction in her voice that Six is immediately aware that she’s practiced, “About what House said, I mean... you’re not going through with it, are you?”

Pretty brown eyes are staring her down. Six replies with a smile, though it’s demure. The Brotherhood’s got her all kinds of conflicted. She can’t imagine how much worse it is for Veronica.

“I don’t wanna kill your family, Ronnie. Family’s all we got out here.” That seems to put her at ease, “But Mr. House ain’t willin’ to listen to me. I tried. I’m thinkin’... I could talk to some caravans, get ‘em set up for supplies... There’s a whole mess of space between here and Tucson.”

Ronnie picks it up, and her appeasement shifts into a cold realization. Six bites her lip, gives her the best helpless look she can muster. Ronnie doesn’t bite.

“That’s not an option,” Veronica replies with a very pointed frown. There isn’t anymore happiness in her face even though it hasn’t been anything but fun this evening. Six sighs. Ronnie insists, “That bunker is our home, Six. It’s hard enough when we get sent out for supply runs under cover. Nobody’s going to help supply an entire chapter of the Brotherhood.”

That makes Six shake her head -- she has favors she can call in, but it’s time for a new approach, “Mr. House won’t listen to reason -- your Elder might, Ronnie. Maybe this is the push they need to adapt.”

“By making them homeless? By taking away the one place we can hide from the NCR, the Legion? By making them all open targets?”

“Better than all dead without a fightin’ chance,” And maybe those are the wrong words. Six takes a breath, “I wanna help you Ronnie, I do... but Mr. House, he --”

“Saved your life, I know. You know what else I know? That you’ve done whatever you had to do with that weird little poker chip he’s so obsessed with. You did your job. He might have saved your life, but why can’t you live it for yourself?”

'Cause she loves him is why. 'Cause she believes in him. Six keeps her mouth shut. She loves Veronica, too, misses the wrinkle in her nose when she laughs. Veronica continues.

“So what?” She fishes, and Six fidgets. Six can hear Benny tutting from whatever hole he’s crawled into, “You want my permission to... to banish the Brotherhood from the Mojave? Because your boss is a megalomaniac dictator?”

Elder McNamara is so much better, Six wants to say, Most the folks down there don’t like your attitude Ronnie, that’s another. Neither are kind, so she opts to say neither at all.

“Autocrat,” Six argues, steeled and frustrated and suddenly stone cold sober. Veronica can’t even look at her right now, “What he can do for the Mojave Ronnie... it’s a hell of a lot more than livin’ underground and hoardin’ weapons you don’t trust people with like you deserve the authority of who gets to have ‘em. It’s resource guardin’, it’s not safe, it’s --”

“Shut up,” Veronica mutters, “just... shut the fuck up.”

Six swallows. Bites her lip so hard she thinks it’s gonna bruise, and takes ten deep breaths. Veronica doesn’t say anything else. Six takes that as permission to speak again, “...I’m gonna get a drink, okay?” Veronica doesn’t answer. She’ll take it as permission, “...I’ll figure somethin’ out, alright? I promise. Nobody’s gotta die.”

Still, nothing. Six hesitates, a small step backwards before finally peeling her eyes away from that pretty orange dress and the woman wearing it. She moves to the kitchen. The medic in her knows water is what’s good. The hedonist in her reaches for a Sunset Sarsaparilla instead. the cap gets popped off and she takes a sip. The vice tastes good, but it’s not enough to make her smile. She’s gotta rethink her plan now.

The sounds of a pneumatic gauntlet rev up behind her. Six knows she can either turn around or duck, and she chooses to duck. Veronica cracks the door of the fridge so deep Six can feel the cold slipping through the crack where the door doesn’t line up right anymore.

“Ronnie --” Six gasps, turning around to see her winding her fist back up. Punches -- the gift that keeps on giving, “Ron, please, hang on. Please, don’t --”

“Shut. Up!” Ronnie screams, and Six is so afraid that someone who isn’t either of them can hear the shouting and the sounds of combat, “I won’t let you.”

The second swing comes, and Six feels it hit her hair just barely as she somersaults out of the way across broken glass and spilled soda and scrambles to her feet. The tiles on the floor shatter. She’s got a silenced .22 under her dress and it shouts at her in Benny’s voice -- never go into a casino unarmed, pussycat. You really fucked this one up, didn’t you?

“Please,” Six begs, and she can only turn around before Veronica tackles her, pins her down. Six kicks, tries to scramble backwards, tries to beg to get Veronica to listen. Veronica grabs her shoulder and sits on her, her gauntlet reeling back. Six struggles more as the first punch lands. She tastes iron, feels the hot sting of skin split open above her left eye. Veronica pulls her fist back and she paints the room red. Her grip loosens just a touch and Six isn’t sure when the gun made it to her hand, but it’s there and she pulls the trigger. Later she finds out it’s right through her heart.

“Don’t --” Veronica Santangelo says, and it’s her last word. There are a million things on her face. She looks... scared. Shocked. Confused. Scared. Scared, scared, so scared. Six gasps, and before Veronica falls on top of her entirely she pushes the still warm corpse to fall beside her instead, rolling away to rest her head against cool tile, and she closes her eyes. Just for a second, she thinks, but when she opens them again Boone is here and so is Victor. The sun is out and pretty shades of yellow and orange shine through the windows.

“Don’t touch her,” Six snaps, her head aching from the hangover. She spits blood out of her mouth.

“We’re just wantin’ to help you clean up a bit, Sugar,” the robot says, very placating, and when Six rolls over she sees he’s holding the body of Veronica Santangelo like a baby. Courier Six screams bloody murder. Boone helps her up. Walks her to the bathroom. Six can’t stop screaming.

She doesn’t know where Victor’s taken her as the sniper cleans her wounds. She never bothers to ask. She doesn’t know when she stops screaming, doesn’t know why she can’t cry instead -- probably because Boone is staring her down behind his aviators and she’s pretty sure she knows just how he’s watching her.

She blames the Brotherhood and slips on her vault suit. Blames them as she goes into Ronnie’s room to slip her scribe robes on top of her outfit. Six blames them as she walks to the Hidden Valley and slips in with the utmost care to be a shadow on the wall. This is a family and they know their people. The disguise doesn’t work if she stops, so Six doesn’t stop. Her head is down and she blames every single person in here for being so rigid, so stuck in their ideals.

It’s their fault that Veronica became disillusioned with them. It’s their fault they are not willing to bend. It’s their fault they are ruined. She sprints out of the Bunker as the sirens go off, throwing the caution and stealth she had been using to the wind along with the burlap hood and robes. The ground rumbles, and she can’t blame them anymore.

It’s not their fault. It never was.

It’s hers.