#just a silly little drabble

[pathetichimbos]

childhood best friends AU but every out of towner sees the reader and Thomas and assumes that Thomas is the one they should be scared of when in reality almost everyone in town has gotten their ass beat by the reader for being mean to him aka Thomas has scary dog privileges

>>>tw: canon typical insults; aka use of r-slur - also not a tw but f!reader ok thank ily bye<<<

---

It's secret to no one. It's no surprise, no new revelation.

It's common knowledge, something no one even bothers to mention, like how the Browns got their money from a hospital scandal, or the Miller's daughter is on drugs. Just another unspoken rule, like how you shouldn't go to the desolate dirt road just outside of town after 9 o'clock, or into the woods around the farm land when the thing no one sees starts screaming into the night.

Or at least, it's common knowledge in town. So, it really couldn't be his fault, could it?

He was new, just some common Joe that had transferred over from a couple towns over to work at the slaughterhouse when demands got high.

He managed to make friendly with the older generation still running the factory and got along with almost all of the younger men that had joined straight out of high school.

He caught on quick to the unspoken social hierarchy around town, already having a similar one in his own hometown.

He knew who to stick with, and he knew who to avoid, but the one thing he didn't know, the one unspoken rule he didn't catch onto, is that no one bullies Thomas Hewitt.

He had never met him, not formally. He heard his name in passing, and it only took one look at the towering masked man to figure out who he was, and even less time to realize that he didn't want to meet him.

No one spoke to him, and he didn't speak to anyone. He was avoided, and feared. It was easy to see why.

Not only did Thomas look like he could snap a grown man in half with his bare hands, but he was quiet, and weird, nobody seemed to like him. And what better way to get on everyone's good side than by targeting the person no one liked?

So, he starts talking about Thomas behind his back. It's easy, and most people will join in after checking the corners and making sure he's no where in sight.

Damn, He thinks, People must really be afraid of him.

And that leads to another thought. Another very stupid, soon to be regretted, thought.

Let's see how tough this guy really is.

So, one day, in the late afternoon of the scorching Texas Summer, while everyone from the first shift is heading out, back to their respective houses, he sees an opportunity.

There sits Thomas, all alone, on a bench in front of the factory. He seems to be lost in thought, staring at the ground while he apparently waits. For what, the man doesn't care enough to think about.

He stops in his tracks, tapping the arm of one of his buddies, and gestures to Thomas, who either hasn't noticed them, or simply hasn't acknowledged the group.

"Look at this guy," He smirks, his voice well loud enough for Thomas to hear, "He waitin' on his Mommy to come pick him up or some shit?"

The other guy doesn't really react, seemingly uncomfortable with his joke.

"Don't tell me that retard done gave whatever the hell he has." He comments on the man's silence, failing to read the room completely.

Thomas shifts in his seat, letting out a discouraged sigh as he continues looking at the ground, this time looking farther away from the group, his fists clenching in his lap, flexing in frustration.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" He shoves his friend in the arm a bit, looking between him and Thomas, "Or you afraid that freak's gonna get a hold of it?"

"Drop it, man..." He waves him off.

"Why should I? He ain't gonna do shit--"

"Tommy!" He hears you before he sees you, looking over just in time to catch glimpse of you happily jogging over to Thomas, "You waited for me!"

Thomas seems to relax at your presence, nodding as he stands to his full height.

"How was your day?" You ask, standing on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck.

He meets you halfway, leaning down and wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck and letting out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, Tommy you stink." There's a playfulness in your voice as you scrunch your face, hit with the stench of the slaughterhouse that will most definitely linger on your clothes.

He lets out a small chuckle as the two of you pull away, looking down at you.

The man is stunned, completely caught off guard by the sight of someone like you even associating with a man like Thomas.

"Holy shit," He looks back to his buddies, "Who the hell is that?"

"That's Thomas'." His friend simply replies, already knowing what's going through the man's head. He doesn't seem to catch the underlying warning that came with those words.

"What is someone like her doing with something like him?"

"I'm tellin' you man, drop it. She ain't worth the trouble."

"Oh, yea? What's that big freak gonna do? Stop me?"

Finally having enough with his antics, the other men dismiss him, heading back to their own vehicles to head home after a hard day's work.

He, however, takes it upon himself to saunter his way over to your side.

"Well, hey there, Missy..." He starts, clearly ignoring the way Thomas' hands are currently resting on your hips, and yours on his chest, "What's got you so far out this way?"

You blink for a few seconds, looking at the guy is disbelief. Was he really asking why you're here?

"...To walk home with my husband." You deadpan, not missing the way Thomas' grip tightens on you, or the small growl that escapes him.

"Husband?" He raises an eyebrow, looking between the two of you, "Come on, girl, you don't really expect me to believe you actually married a thing like him." He paints his last word with disgust.

It's your turn to raise your eyebrows, tilting your head as you look at him, "A 'thing'?"

"Well, yea..." He seems caught off guard by your reaction, "Don't tell me you actually like him?"

You let out a sigh, your hand tapping Thomas' chest once as you look back up at him, "Thomas, baby, can you go inside and call Charlie? I think I'd like to get a ride today instead of walking."

He gives you a knowing look, shaking his head a bit.

"No, no, it'll be fine, I promise. Just go call him for me please?"

Thomas looks between you and the man, and pulls away with a sigh, walking back into the slaughterhouse.

Now even more confused, the man watches Thomas walk away, completely bewildered by what just happened. Was he missing something, or did he just get really, really lucky?

"Let me ask you something," You catch his attention, your hand coming up to brush over his hair briefly, "...Did your Mama ever teach you manners?"

Thomas isn't even surprised when he comes back outside to find the man sprawled on the ground, crying out as you stand bent over him, his ear caught between your fingers.

"Don't you know it's rude to call people names?" You ask him sternly, "Do you want me to call you names? Is that what you want? Do you want me to start calling you names too?"

"Let me go, you stupid bitch!" He yells, gripping at your wrist, each move he makes only twisting his ear harder in your grip.

You push down a little more, rubbing his face in the dirt, "That's not what I asked."

"No, no, I don't want you to call me names--!"

"Exactly! So what made you think it was okay to start calling him names? Did you think it was funny?"

"Y-Yes, I thought it was funny--!

"Do you think this is funny?"

"No!"

"Say you're sorry."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just let me go--!"

"Like you mean it."

"I'm sorry--!"

A hand on your shoulder catches your attention as you look up, seeing Thomas giving you a deadpan look.

"Okay..." You sigh, letting the man's ear go and standing up straight.

"Oh, you fucking bitch..." He clings to his burning ear, pushing himself up.

"Did you call Charlie?" You ignore him, turning back to Thomas.

He nods, looking back to the man still seething on the ground.

"Ok, let's walk up the road til we see him." You take his hand, pulling his attention back to you.

He nods again, giving your hand a squeeze as you start walking away, continuing on with your day as if nothing had happened.

After all, it's common knowledge, right?

[astronomical-bagel]

The Rift was whispering.

More than whispering, really. Grian thought he could hear faint cheering emanating from it. Or maybe crying. 

Well, whatever it was, they were annoying, and Grumbot Prime’s messages were starting to get more and more on the “get that to stop or I’ll rip out your spine” side of the spectrum. And honestly, Grian was in favor of keeping his spine. He would even go so far as to say he was quite attached to his spine. So, with little regard to potential radiation poisoning or existential tearing of his soul, Grian stuck his head into the Rift.

The funny thing about the Rift, is that it had layers. It was a rip into the fabric of space, time, and reality, and through it, it had rings, like a tree. Like the strata in a rock, realities layered and fragmented and shifted in every mind-melting way. Eyes glinted off of each impossible facet in the dimensions around him, each one turning towards Grian as he stuck his head past the threshold of the rift. The rough whispers were amplified in here, ping-ponging around Grian’s brain.

Grian just raised his eyebrow, unimpressed by the eldritch horror living in his basement, “Seriously, guys? What’s going on now?”

The eyes turned pleading, their amethyst and tuff irises large and puppylike. Polls. We have polls. Vote in polls? Sexy? Sexyman?

Grian took a second to process what they were asking, before immediately u-turning out of there, “Nope. Nope. No way. Goodbye.”

But! Polls! The eyes cried, wailing over each other, Competition! Win in polls!

“I said goodbye, guys. I’m not debasing myself like that.”

Noo! Minecraft men! The watchers beseeched, each yelling out their chosen champion with renewed fervor, making the space around the Rift warp like it was being pulled in by a black hole. It did absolutely jack squat to Grian, though, only serving to make him roll his eyes at heir tantrum and further resolve to stay the hell away from their whole… situation.

That didn’t stop them from trying to campaign at him, though.

Vote Joe! Do you think a non-sexyman can look like THAT?

BLOODSHED AND CHAOS ON THE PLANET EARTH.

Vote for the little guy! Jimmy deserves to have a win! 

Phil’s winning MY sexyman poll

QUACKITY SWEEP 2023 PLS HE NEEDS THIS

Endorsed by Martyn, I repeat, we are endorsed by Martyn!

Vote Mumbo 4 sexyman! It’s been too long since he’s been campaigned for something against his will! With your help we can change that!

That last comment stopped Grian in his tracks, as suddenly as if he had hit a wall. The chatter behind him immediately went quiet with a sensation distinctly similar to an entire crowd holding their breath.

Grian ignored them and opened his inventory, swiping through it slowly until he took out his ender chest. He set it down and knelt, rifling through his diamonds and knicknacks, “You know…” he started, taking out a well-worn white shirt and holding it up to the light. A faded “MUMBO 4 MAYOR” shone in dull red at him, “It has been a while since I last wore this.”

Gumbot blinked at him, his mustache beginning to bounce up and down, a musical jingle starting to play as he booted up a sentence. A little piece of paper shot out of the dispenser, wafting down to the ground. With a growing grin, Grian picked up the paper, which read in big, bold words: MUMBO JUMBO 4 TUMBLR SEXYMAN.

“Well, Grumbot.” Grian planted his hands on his hips and smiled up at his huge, homicidal, robot son, “It looks like we have our work cut out for us, don’t we?

[kingdaddydaichi]

You mention in passing that you must be about to start your period because you’ve been bloated and tired all day. Later that evening, msby!boyfriend!Bokuto comes home after practice with a couple of boxes of tampons. HimBo mode engaged…

“Hey, baby! Tadaima!” Your boyfriend kicks his shoes off at the door before leaning down to kiss you.

“Welcome home, baby! What’s this?” you ask as he hands you the small shopping bag.

He watches you peek inside before looking up at him with a beaming smile.

“Bo?! Thank you, baby! And you got the Super absorbency ones too!”

“Oh!” He raises his arched eyebrows like this is a huge revelation for him. “…so that’s what the sizes mean! I wasn’t sure which ones to get; I just know there’s nothing Regular about your pussy! You’ve got a Super Pussy, baby!” he declares with a wink.

Your howling laughter fills your apartment as you throw your arms around him. “Damn it, Bo! I love you so damn much, baby!”

He smiles victoriously and hugs you back. “I love you too, angel!”

“Please don’t ever change.” Your words come out muffled against his thick neck.

He squeezes his strong arms around you to hold you tighter. “I won’t, babe.”

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

you’ve been katsuki’s for as long as you can remember.

sure, he had never outwardly called you his girlfriend, but when you were both seven years old, he came up to you. chest heaving slightly from running up and down the hill where he had gotten you a freshly plucked out bouquet of flowers. the roots were still clinging to them and he got dirt all over your hands from forcibly grabbing them and shoving the bouquet in them before you could even form a sentence.

“since you accepted the flowers, you’re mine now.” he mumbled, his little hands tightened into fists at his sides and chubby cheeks a cute shade of pink, staring at you as confidently as he could.

a grin grows on his face when you respond with a simple “okay !” and a bright smile. the grin on his face never disappears even as his mom scolds him for getting you both all dirty.

you were katsuki’s in middle school too, when the boys in class decided to play kiss, marry, kill and he had somehow gotten dragged into it. the girls in your class tried their best to seem uninterested, claiming the boys were being childish, but you noticed how hard some of them were straining their ears trying to hear what the guys were talking about in their own little corner of the room. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little curious as well.

katsuki was as ruthless as you’d known him to be, choosing to kill any girl that wasn’t to his liking, which ended up being all of them. much to the other boys’ chagrin, claiming he had no taste.

then your name was brought up.

at that, his eyes widened and he turned in his seat to see if you were watching. you had never turned your head away so fast in your life and you were pretty sure you heard something go “crack”.

he clicked his tongue. mumbling something about how stupid the game was before muttering out a “kiss yn, marry yn and kill that other bitch.” before getting up and stomping away, claiming he had to go to the bathroom followed closely by the whoops and hollers of his two friends behind him.

you both made eye contact when he walked out and you think you’ll never forget how red his cheeks were.

you were katsuki’s when he was the one to walk you to and from school everyday, claiming you would somehow get lost without him. you were katsuki’s when he had begrudgingly shoved homemade valentines day chocolates into your arms, mumbling something about how you had been upset nobody had gotten you anything last year, conveniently leaving out the fact he had scared off all the other guys trying to offer you anything.

you were katsuki’s when he grabbed your hand during the winter because he said you’d “end up dying of hypothermia with the way you’re chittering over there.” and you were his when you were the only person he laughed around. loud, genuine laughter that you and only you could squeeze out of him. you were katsuki’s when he randomly kissed you goodnight at your door one night and he’s been doing it ever since, and gets all pouty when you turn away from his kisses to tease him.

“are we dating ?” you had asked him. you’re both in high school now and you’re in his dorm room. your legs are on his lap and he’s got a comfortable grip on your leg, which tightens after he registers your questions “hah?” he looks utterly confused and a little insulted as he looks back at you, his entire face scrunched up in confusion. you pinch his nose and he swats at your hand.

“are we dating ? like—am i your girlfriend.” you say again and katsuki’s face scrunches up even harder. he huffs and looks back at his phone, landing a little smack on your leg still placed in his lap. “ ‘course yer my fuckin’ girlfriend.” he spits out, obviously irritated. then he looks back at you “I haven’t made it obvious ?” he says sarcastically. one of his eyebrows lifted as he pokes at your leg still very much in his lap.

you simply shrug “s’not that. it’s just because you’ve never actually asked me out before, so i was a little confused on where we stood.” you mumble. he stares at you while you speak and he stares a little longer before sighing. then he leans towards you and flicks your forehead.

“ow !”

“dumbass.” he murmurs. there’s a slight pout on his face and his cheeks are light shade of pink when he looks you in the eyes again. he grabs both your cheeks with one hand and smushes them together to push your lips out and presses multiple wet kisses onto them that have you squealing and squirming. his wet lips are pulled into a smirk when he pulls back and you try your best to at least look a little angry, you really do. but it’s useless when he looks at you like that.

“of course you’re my girlfriend” he reiterates. his smirk’s been replaced for something softer, something more sincere as he gazes at you with so much unadulterated affection it makes your head spin a little. “you’ve always been mine.” he says it in a teasing tone and his hand is still smushing your cheeks out and it hurts a little but his eyes are still the same. they’re warm and soft and so, so enamored with you and only you.

when he finally let’s go of your face and pulls you fully into his lap, you realize katsuki’s been yours for as long as you’ve been his.

you smile brightly at him but turn your nose up when he leans in to kiss you again. “i still haven’t heard what i wanna hear though, mr. bakugou.”

he rolls his eyes and pinches at your thigh as he mumbles out a “don’t call me that.” sighing, he looks at you intensely and you suddenly feel very shy.

“will you be my girlfriend, ya shitty girl ?” and he says it as a joke, you both know it is cus his lips are already forming into a smirk the second he finishes his sentence. and you’re pulling at his nose the moment you register it, but you’re both smiling hard. he laughs and you’re sure you’ll never get tired of the sound. “what’s your answer, pretty ?” he asks playfully and you pretend to really think it over just to mess with him, and giggling out a “yes!” when he suddenly pounces on you. flipping you both over and tickling you mercilessly, calling it revenge for you “taking too damn long to answer.”

you’d been katsuki’s for as long as you can remember, and you hope you can be forever.

[peterparkeeperer]

sitting pretty (edward cullen x gn!reader)

You could tell he was looking at you. His eyes had a presence of their own.

“What do you want?” You asked teasingly, without looking up.

“Your attention, preferably.”

You smiled impishly and found your eyes repeating the same sentence over and over on the page below you. He probably knew he was a distraction, or that you were really bad at concentrating.

“Oh, really? What kind of attention?”

It was his turn to be impish, “Only the innocent kind. I am a gentleman.”

“Someone has to be,” you finally turned to him, he was sitting at your desk while you studied on your bed.

“Come here,”

You craved him closer suddenly, wanted to hold him in any way. This feeling often shot you out of nowhere, usually when he was sitting and looking so incredibly pretty (which was a word you found yourself using to describe him more often than not. Smooth skin, soft hair, and brown eyes that you’d always been a sucker for) that you had no option but to crave him.

Edward looked pleased with himself, and you sighed inwardly as you pushed your (unfinished) homework away to make space for him.

“You’re a bad influence, you know that?”

He smirked as he lowered himself to lay by you, and your hand naturally drifted to the side of his waist.

“You’re the one who told me to come here,” he said innocently, with his deep eyes daring you to fall inside the well of them.

“How can I deny you your attention you so desperately crave?”

He smiled, “I don’t ‘desperately crave’ anything,” yet his eyes were playful and he looked seconds away from tossing this playful banter and speaking sad and lovely poetry.

You grinned and came closer, and with every inch removed his eyes got more and more black. Like tar. When your breath could hit his cold lips you spoke, “oh, really?”

He sucked in a breath he doesn’t need and came closer to close the distance, but you leaned back casually.

He looked prettier like this. Desperate, frowning at the rejection of the kisses he’d been spoiled with and now addicted to.

You took pity on him and slid your hand from his waist to go under his shirt, allowing you to stroke the skin there. It was domestic affection, yet he was weak to this too.

“I love you, very much.”

You softened, and leaned in naturally to kiss him. It was slow on your part, loving. But he seemed eager and pushed into you, soon you were laying with him almost sitting on top of you. You pushed at his shoulders lightly.

“Did you just say that so I would kiss you?”

He looked away, “well, I do love you.”

“You’re an idiot. But I love you.”

[omi-boshi]

"What are you doing?" Kiyoomi asks from his place on the bed, wary.

His arms part as he makes space for you to wiggle your way onto his chest. He breathes a laugh at your antics, watches as you take his face between the palm of your hands. The grin that tugs on your lips is a little lopsided, a little cheeky.

The bright red of your lips catches the light and it is the last thing he sees before you begin your assault.

Kiss. On his lips.

Kiss. Right cheek.

Kiss. Left cheek.

Kiss. Tip of his nose.

Kiss. The moles on his forehead.

By the tenth kiss, he is roaring in laughter. The kind of laugh that you've only ever heard when he's with you. It's loud, it shakes his entire being, jostling your body that lies on top of his if not for the arms he has wrapped around you to keep you in place.

It's a little ugly, a little silly the way he snorts in between laughs, but it is offset by the unbridled joy so clear to your ears. The kisses you leave by the corner of his eyes are distorted by the way they're crinkled in laughter. From there, his grin is a permanent fixture as you continue to fill every gap on his face and neck with kisses.

As the tint on your lips slowly fades, his laughter does too, mellowing down into a dopey little smile, eyes bright. You pull back to admire your handiwork, your smile just as dazed.

One arm unravels from your waist to cradle one of your hands still cupping his cheeks. He nuzzles into the touch, eyes tracing over your features, gaze so warm you feel it on your skin. It moves you to lean in once more, to kiss him on the lips.

Longer this time.

And Kiyoomi is more than eager to reciprocate. It's heavier, wetter. More breaths, gasps, and the occasional bites. There is an attempt at deepening the kiss further; Kiyoomi's tongue tracing the seam of your lips. But the giddiness that thrums through him pulls his grin wider. Every time your teeth clash, it makes you laugh into his mouth. It is truly in vain that you try to kiss properly.

When you finally pull away, it is to Kiyoomi mirroring you and cupping your cheeks with both hands.

"What was that for?" He is breathless as he asks. The look on his face no less lovestruck than it was before. The tint on his lips was the most smeared compared to all other kiss marks on his face. It makes you giggle, amused.

"I just wanted to kiss you, is all." You kiss the palm of his left hand to emphasize. "And I wanted to try out the lipstick I bought today." You nod towards the tube sitting innocently on your nightstand.

Kiyoomi shakes his head, chuckling to himself.

He hugs you to his chest, rolling you onto your back, placing himself on top of you. He reaches for the tube of lipstick, smile growing mischievous.

"Guess it's time to return the favor."

[hajimeseyo]

You're staring, Izana notices. 

He has no idea who you are, really, but you've been trying (and obviously failing) to sneak subtle glances at him the entire time since he stepped into the convenience store. It's starting to throw him off, just a little. For all he knows, you could be a spy from an opposing gang. Not a very good one, though. 

Your gaze follows him as he walks towards the cashier and pays, and even as he walks towards the exit, plastic bags in hand. He pays it no mind as he feels it shift off him, the sound of the cashier greeting you the last thing he hears as he steps outside the store. 

It didn't seem like you were going to pick a fight with him, he might as well just leave it be. 

Besides, any gang that dared to come after Tenjiku would just be mercilessly crushed under his heel. A spy or two wouldn't change that fact.

The clouds above him rumble, dark and heavy, and he frowns, looking up at the cloudy sky. It would be a pain in the ass if it rained while he was in the middle of walking home. Maybe he could call Kakucho to pick him up. Or he could just buy an umbrella from the store right behind him…

The sound of footsteps snap him out of his thoughts, and he glances to the side to see you, head lowered and lips mouthing numbers as you take inventory of the things in your plastic bag. You don't seem to have noticed him, he notes in amusement.

His theory proves true when you look up, done from counting, and nearly jump at the sight of him staring straight at you. Your eyes are wide, the way you freeze reminding him of a prey caught by its hunter, and he can't stop himself from having a little fun. 

“You were staring at me quite a lot earlier, huh?” He says, relishing in the way your face flushes with embarrassment, and the way you instantly try (and fail) to school it into a look of nonchalance. “Is there a problem?”

You cough awkwardly, eyes suddenly unable to look at him despite being fully glued onto him just minutes ago. Izana watches you squirm, all too used to these shows of discomfort. Based on most of his past interactions, you'll probably come up with some lame excuse on why you were staring at him, then take the first opportunity you have to run away. Or get defensive, and aggressively deny you were doing anything of the sort. People always act the same when confronted with their actions. Izana's used to the same old song and dance. 

He wonders which route you’ll take.

To his surprise, you take neither of them. 

You seem to come to a decision, gaze snapping up to him, nervous but suddenly full of what seems like determination.

“There's no problem, I was just staring because–” You falter a little here, cheeks reddening a little again, before you pull yourself together with a quick shake of the head. “Because, well…your eyes.”

“Hm?” That response certainly wasn’t what he was expecting. “What about them?”

“They're beautiful.”

The words are said so plainly, without a trace of any doubt, and Izana is shocked speechless. 

While he doesn't deny that he's good looking, the word ‘beautiful’ and any part of him have never been together in the same sentence before. That he's heard of, at least. Even if any of his subordinates had the guts to consider him ‘beautiful’, they definitely wouldn’t have the guts to say it to his face. Granted, you probably don’t have any idea who he is, but still. This is definitely a first.

(And even so, the thought that something about him could be beautiful was something that had never occurred to him.)

“...Really?” The words come out in a whisper before he could stop himself.

You nod vigorously, and once again Izana is thrown off by the fact that it's something you're so sure of. As if the thought of it being untrue has never even crossed your mind.

His response seems to appear to you as an invitation to talk more, as you continue speaking, hesitation fading away with each word that comes out of your mouth. “They're just such a beautiful shade of purple, like amethysts. I've never seen anything like it before. And paired with your long white eyelashes and white hair, you look like someone's painting came to life.”

"I don't know if anyone's told you before, but you're really a sight to behold."

There's a light, pleasant feeling in his chest.

He doesn't know what it is. 

“Ah!” You suddenly slap your hands over your mouth. “I spoke too much! God, I must've sounded like a creep, I'm so sorry–”

A laugh cuts you off from your panicked rambling. Izana doesn't quite know why he's laughing, but seeing you panicking over saying the wrong things despite being fully shameless literally right before just seemed so funny, and well, there's such a nice warmth in his chest; indulging in it doesn't hurt, right?

(He doesn’t notice the stars in your eyes as you stare, almost in awe, at his laughing visage.)

“What’s your name?” You’re interesting, he’s decided. It would be a shame to let you just slip away.

“[name].”

He lets out a hum. “[name], huh…got it.” 

“Wait.” You call out to him, just as he turns and begins to walk away. “What’s yours?”

He doesn’t notice, but as he turns back, there’s a genuine, serene smile on his face that would’ve shocked even the noisiest Haitani twins into silence at seeing it on the face of the highly feared leader of Tenjiku.

“Izana. Don’t forget it.”

(He’s scolded nonstop by Kakucho when he shows up at home, soaking wet from the heavy downpour outside.

“It’s not like you to be so careless.” Kakucho huffs, drying his hair roughly with all the fierceness of an Asian mom. “You knew it was going to start raining on your way back, why didn’t you just call for one of us to get you from the store?”

Izana hums unconcernedly. “I was already walking away from the store, I couldn’t just stop and turn back.”

“Huh?? Why the hell not??”

“Don’t be stupid, Kakucho. I would’ve looked so uncool.”

“??????”)

(part 2 here!)

[ghost-bxrd]

Jason opens his mouth to retort when his phone starts ringing.

And not any kind of ringing, no. It’s the fucking Spooky-Scary-Skeletons song.

This is a goddamn nightmare. He should have stayed in bed.

He has exactly two options.

One, not pick up.

Which would be a good option, the best option, if it were anybody else. Because Jason knows the fucker isn’t above trying to ring up the manor itself if he feels slighted.

Two, pick up. And suffer the most awkward birthday congratulations since… well, last year.

Jason glares at each and every curious Bat watching him from the sofa as he excuses himself and heads into the hall, pressing the green button with a long suffering sigh.

“What?”

“It has come to my attention that you have not yet contacted my daughter for your name day well wishes.“

Jason thunks his head against the wall.

“I’m busy.”

“I am aware,” Ra’s says smoothly, and Jason just knows the bastard is stirring his sinfully expensive blend of tea with some golden spoon, “And yet this has not stopped you before.”

“Is there a point to this call?”

“Yes. Do make sure to call my daughter soon. She is being quite insufferable.”

Righteous indignation rises inside Jason like hot coals.

“She isn’t—“

“She has disposed of three potential tutors since this morning,” Ra’s cuts him off, and Jason’s mouth snaps shut, “Yes, I do consider this to be insufferable. And your brother has brought it to my attention that the likely cause of her irritability is your lack of communication.”

“I’m busy.” Jason repeats, but it sounds petulant even to his own ears, “Look, I’ll call her as soon as I get out of here, ok?”

“Make sure that you do. Finding instructors is a difficult enough task without my daughter culling half their numbers before they even stepped across the threshold.”

“Maybe mom wouldn’t have to dispose of them if they were skilled enough to evade her.”

“Oh, some of them were,” Ra’s says drily, “But it proved to be for naught when she decided the your brother’s pets hadn’t had enough sustenance for the day.”

…so, maybe Jason should have called.

— silly little outtake of chpt X of What You’re Longing For (you claim to abhor)

[moonriverrise]

Dreams are supposed to be subtle messages from your subconscious, right? Then why the hell did Eddie keep having the same type of dream every single night. The same dream featuring the same boy with chestnut hair, doe eyes, and freckles sprinkled all over.

He didn’t know the boys name, but he’s around Eddie’s age based on looks. His hair is styled in a certain way, swooped to the side almost perfectly. He’s pretty strong looking and pale skinned, and has the most wonderful laugh Eddie has ever heard.

In the dreams that Eddie had, he meets this boy under a tree in a long sunflower field. He’s always there before Eddie, sitting with his back against the trunk of the tree, staring at the sky or simply laying with his eyes shut.

Whenever Eddie came up to him, he was greeted with the same phrase every time, no matter what differences are in the dreams.

“Hello, Sunshine. How are you?”

It's sweet, and it warmed Eddie’s heart in a way he never thought something could. Then Eddie would sit down and they would have conversations about their lives. Because, this boy had a life, probably something Eddie’s brain made up.

“Oh, and Dust thinks he’s so much better than me just because he’s good at Algebra. Who the fuck is good at Algebra?!”

The boy is entertaining, he’s funny, pretty, charismatic. One dream he has, turns a bit different after the greeting, which is said more solemnly. Soon afterwards, the boy asks Eddie something.

“Have you ever kissed a boy before?” He asked. Eddie has paused.

“What do you mean?”

“Uhm…do you ever think you might like boys the way you like girls?” And Eddie had to pause again, because, thats how he had felt. That’s the questions he thought about, the ones he had asked Uncle Wayne.

“All the time.” Eddie responded.

“Is it..normal?” Eddie looked over to the boy, who looks nervous, scared.

“Of course. You can like whoever you want. People who don't think that are stuck up pricks.” Eddie expressed. The boy had laughed, gently. Then laid his head against Eddie’s shoulder, and then shut his eyes.

“I have a friend, you know that one I mentioned, Robbie?” Eddie hummed. “She likes girls, only girls. I want to tell her about this, but I'm afraid. Even though I know she couldn't possibly be mean, I just don't want to be abandoned.” Eddie sighed.

“It’s okay. You just need to take your time with it, talk yourself through it.” Eddie advised.

“Sunshine?”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?” Eddie had paused, once again. He looked over at the boy, who looked up at him in response, through his lashes.

Eddie traced his face with his eyes, placed a gentle hand on his face, rubbed a thumb against the boys skin, who let his eyes blink closed. He leaned into Eddie’s touch, embraced him, his being.

Eddie leaned closer to the boys face. The wind whistled loudly, and birds sang in the background. Eddie let his other hand cup the boys face, and their lips met, slowly.

It was slow, but deep. Gentle, yet hungry. They parted and Eddie stared into the boys eyes, as tears settled in them. A brief flash of panic runs through Eddie’s blood…

The boy laughed, giggled like a birds song. He wiped his eyes and whispered into Eddie’s ear.

“Thank you, for all that you are.”

Eddie’s eyes had fluttered open that morning, and he felt comforted with a sense of kindness and the ghost of tender lips against his own.

Then, Eddie got up, and got dressed, ready to go to work at the cafe down the street from his apartment in Indianapolis.

Dustin walked up to him during his shift, he was wearing a hat from that summer camp he’d gone to a few years back.

“Hey Eddie,” He said.

“Hello, Henderson.” Eddie responded, giving him a look.

“Wow! Don't have to be hostile!” Dustin joked. “You know my buddy i've been meaning to introduce you to?”

“Your babysitter?” Eddie asked while pouring creamer into a cup of coffee.

“Yeah! Steve! He’s here, sitting next to me and Robin over there.” Eddie didn’t follow where he was pointing, instead decided to focus on throwing a portable cup onto the coffee then calling out the order number as he slid it across the counter.

“Alright, hold on dude. Gare! Can you take order for just a second! I'll be back in a minute!” Gareth groaned but begrudgingly walked over to the cash register. “Thank you, I promise to spare your next character in Hellfire.”

“You better, man.” Gareth responded as Eddie walked out to meet Dustin.

They both walked over to the table and Eddie froze entirely when he meets eyes with someone so familiar.

It's the boy from his dreams.

“Okay, Eddie this is Steve. Steve this is Eddie.” Eddie waved a hand in Dustin’s face to shut him up.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Steve. that was his name. He asked him that, and Eddie nodded slowly.

“I know you from somewhere too,” He responded. Steve’s eyes went a bit wide, and he stood, facing Eddie.

“Sunshine?” Eddie nodded, vigorously.

“Guys…” Eddie shunned Dustin with his hands again.

“Robbie is Robin- the gay friend?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded. “Dust…that’s Henderson?” He nodded again.

“What the hell?-” Robin spoke up. Steve shushed her.

“You look exactly how you did before.” Eddie said to him. Steve smiled.

“You look even brighter in person,”

[teddybeartoji]

thinking about burying your face into shoko's chest when the scary movie is getting a litte too scary during the usual sashisu get-together. suguru is acting all calm, (you know his heartbeat is racing, though. he's not as cool as he thinks) surpressing a little smirk while satoru is clutching onto his sweater for his dear life.

shoko isn't focused on the boys, nor is she focused on the tv screen that's filled with blood and guts – your scrunched up face being way more intriguing. she's trying to be smooth, trying to just catch a proper glimpse of you but it's hard without making a fuss. she needs to turn her head and she knows that's gonna get your attention; she doesn't want that. she wants to look at you without you looking back. she wants to study you and your face, you and you expressions, you and your birthmarks and you and your scars. she can't do that if you're staring up at her. she can't study you like that - she'll get distracted.

but c'mon, you're right there – one hand on her stomach, holding yourself up a little while the other is lost somewhere between your bodies. she has to look at you.

and she does. from what she can see, your face is in fact all scrunched up and it is in fact as adorable as she'd thought it'd be. your eyebrows are furrowed, eyes screwed shut as the screaming and yelling continues booming from the tv. your bottom lip is a little jutted out; shoko's lips twitch. so do her fingers.

her one hand is securely holding wine glass while the other... has somehow found its way to your back. for comfort, she thinks to herself. she didn't even realize it was there. instinct, she thinks to herself.

she leans back a mere inch, eager to see more of your pained face but that's when your eyes open; staring right back at her, you feel small. you feel flustered. she has that effect on you. the fingers on your back have now found a lock of hair, twirling the ends between her fingers; surely tainting you with the faint tobacco smell. you don't care.

"scared?" she whispers. her lips move so smoothly, the dark hue of them inviting you in. maroon; the mixture of her own lipstick and the wine - you wonder how she'd taste.

"maybe..." you whisper back. she hums quietly, trying not to attract attention from the boys a few feet away.

"aw..."

it's hard not to burn at her words, her small coo.

"what about you, hm?" you hum back and she can feel it; feel it start from the back of your throat and make its way through your body and then through hers. you're so close. "your heart is beating pretty fast. you sure you're not scared?"

...

it's not often you, or anybody else for that matter, is able to catch her off-guard. this is... new.

she just blinks down at you a few times, her pretty eyelashes fluttering against her soft pale skin. her lips part, yet nothing comes out. for about twenty seconds, it's just you and her. no blood, no gore, no tv, no boys, no noise, no nothing - only her eyes and your eyes. when your own lips quirk up, ready to bark out a tease at her - satoru screams, pulling your attention from her.

while suguru is muffling trying to muffle satoru's awful noises by slapping a palm in front of his mouth and you're trying to keep your laughter from bubbling up - shoko is still staring at you.

[hoodie-buck]

you've got game

—idk this silly idea came to me after last nights ep and i just blacked out and wrote whatever this is <33

words: 1.1k | rated: g | read on ao3

They’d been lying there for about ten minutes with nothing said between them. Buck had asked Eddie about Chris and the letter, listening to Eddie work his thoughts out, offering commentary when needed.

The conversation with Chris had devastated both of them, but especially Eddie. With Chris getting older, the difficult questions kept coming. They were both finding them harder to answer.

For the time being, Eddie had settled with the fact that Buck had talked Chris through it and that Chris had eventually read the letter and put the picture of his mom back up. It was a start.

It was a serious matter, one Buck knew Chris wasn’t going to be “over” with a single letter, but it helped; for now.

Even so, Buck couldn’t help the silly little thought that kept creeping in the back of his mind. He let out a little laugh for it, quickly trying to cover it with a cough. Eddie didn’t buy it.

“Care to share?”

Buck cleared his throat as he turned to lay on his back. Eddie laid on his side next to him, facing Buck.

“Nothing. It’s uh, it’s dumb. And probably not uh, not appropriate right now.”

Buck knew if he turned toward Eddie he’d find his boyfriend directing a raised brow his direction. And so, Buck avoided it, turning back onto his side and away from Eddie. Still, Eddie wasn’t having it.

Eddie snuggled up behind him, snaking his arms around Buck as he pulled him in close, nuzzling into him.

“Inappropriate thoughts have never stopped you from sharing before.”

Buck snorted as Eddie squeezed him tighter.

Buck tapped his fingers over Eddie’s, stalling.

“Well it was just, I was kind of—proud.”

“Of what, that I didn’t have a panic attack about the whole thing?”

Buck smiled as he brought one of Eddie’s hands up to pepper kisses over. “Well yes that, but I was thinking more that ya know…our son has game.”

A groan fell out of Eddie and he was turning away and abandoning Buck in an instant. Buck rolled to face Eddie, propping his head up on his arm.

“C’mon babe, he has five different girls going after him? I’m just saying; that’s pretty impressive.”

“You’re insufferable.”

Buck pushed into Eddie’s space, nosing into him.

“I mean, I’m just saying…we know he doesn’t get that from you.”

A playful yet warning pinch came to his side, Buck yelping a little for it as he pushed further into Eddie’s space. He made the smart decision not to say anything further.

Eddie’s arm reached out, his fingers landing on Buck’s hip. His hand fit right into place, molding into Buck.

“I got you, didn’t I?”

Buck was grateful the room was dark enough to hide the flush of his cheeks. Even after all these years, Eddie still had such an effect on him. He hoped that would never change.

Buck slid his hand down to meet Eddie’s and he threaded them together.

“I’m not immune to your charm like the others.”

Eddie snorted. “You just like my ass.”

Buck quickly shifted their positions so he could get his hands on Eddie, practically pulling his boyfriend on top of him. He squeezed Edddie’s ass before kissing him a little filthily.

“Well it is a nice ass. But it’s not why I fell in love with you.”

A smile fell off Eddie’s lips, one he placed to Bucks.

“Then tell me cowboy, what did lure you in?”

Buck preened for the dorky pet name. He brushed his hands up and down Eddie’s arms a little absently as he thought over all the things that made him fall in love with one Eddie Diaz.

“Well, you’re badass under pressure, you let me into your adorable sons life, you always have my back, you’re my best friend, you’re the best dad I know, and you’re probably the most selfless person I’ve met besides my sister. You’re always there when anyone needs you, and adorably afraid of technology. You make me wanna be a better person and you just…well you love me for—me.” Buck squeezed Eddie’s arms before leaning up to kiss him and whispering into him. “And you have a nice ass.”

Eddie rolled his eyes then kissed Buck again, sweet and slow.

“Thank you Buck, for always being there for us. Chris looks up to you; trusts you.” Eddie looked down to him, those browns wide and endearing. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Buck smiled up to him while pulling Eddie closer.

“Good thing you’ll never have to find out.”

Their lips met in the middle, soft yet passionate kisses shared between them. They eventually settled back into each other, Buck on his back with Eddie nestled in close.

“You know,” Eddie started, tapping a finger across Bucks bare chest. “I’m pretty proud of you too.”

“Why’s that?” Buck asked, settling further against Eddie.

“Well, I know how badly you wanted to congratulate our kid for being a total ladies man, but you somehow managed to refrain. I know that must’ve been hard for you.”

Buck sighed as he tossed his head back. “God Eds that was so badass of him! I wasn’t meant to be the un-fun parent.”

Buck pouted while Eddie snickered. Eddie sat up to kiss his pout away, Buck easily accepting it.

“You know, I still have pretty good game.”

Eddie raised his brows. “You think so?”

Buck puffed out his chest a bit. “Oh I know so.”

“Prove it,” Eddie challenged, Buck not backing down.

Buck pulled Eddie back against him, wrapping him up tight as he whispered in his ear, sliding his hand down the expanse of Eddie. “So are you just excited about this talk or is that a—“

“Buck—go to bed.”

Buck totally had game, for the record. Eddie was no fun sometimes.

“You didn’t even let me get to the punchline!”

“That’s because I already know it dork. You use it on me all the time.”

Well, when Buck found something good, he stuck with it. Especially at work when it tended to send a blush across Eddie’s cheeks as Eddie gave him a firm yet bothered warning.

“Fine, but I have more, that I will be wooing you with starting tomorrow.”

Eddie chuckled in his hold. “Can’t wait. But just remember, you already have me. I’m all yours Buck.”

He did love the sound of that.

Buck snuggled in closer, Eddie tilting his head up so their lips could meet.

“And I’m all yours.

Just when Buck was finally settled and on the verge of sleep, Eddie’s voice filled the silence.

“You can use your cheesy lines to pick me up any day.”

Buck smiled into him. “Yea, or you know uh, you could-you could use them on me.”

Why did they need game when they had each other?

————————————————————————

tagging squad below; lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3

tags: @loserdiaz @redlightsandicedtea @loveyourownsmiilee @monsterrae1 @buddierights @swiftiebuckleyhan @honestlydarkprincess @barbiediaz @spotsandsocks @justsmilestuffhappens @eddiiediaz @djdangerlove @eddiebabygirldiaz @elvensorceress @jacksadventuresinwriting @stanningsky @wh0re-behavi0r @ronordmann @spaceprincessem @transbuck @disasterbuckdiaz @giddyupbuck @wildlife4life @betty-boom @hippolotamus @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @pirrusstuff @nmcggg @theotherbuckley @louis-tenn @the-gayest-wug @buckley-diaz-rules @muppetbuddie @gamer-kai @blorbodiaz @heartshapedvows @trashbaget @steadfastsaturnsrings @buckbuckgoose @wikiangela @hobbitnarwhal l @shortsighted-owl @pirrusstuff @goldencherrymooon @murder-trio @daffi-990 @greenfairrryy @mattsire

[pupkashi]

nanami is sooo shopping at the farmers market on warm mornings and getting u fresh flowers when your back is turned coded <3

he’s holding your hand and has your tote bag slung over his shoulder because you ‘needed to get a better angle looking at these peaches.’ he’s watching you with the faintest of smiles on his lips when you make small talk with the person running the jam booth, giving them a smile sweeter than the jelly you’re holding and telling them you’d be back next week to get another jar of the blueberry flavor.

he’s buying you everything you want, getting the two of you oranges to snack on while you walk along. he’s peeling the orange for you, handing you the sweet slices as he goes, asking if it was sweet. you’re smiling back at him, nodding your head, the sun kissing your skin with all the love it holds.

nanami can’t help but end up giving you half of his orange after you tell him how his was sweeter than yours. he doesn’t hesitate to give you the rest of it, saying he’s never been a fan of oranges anyway, ‘im more of a mandarin lover,’ he smiles.

[pink-satin]

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

dabi x reader drabble

MNI

tw: blood, use of “daddy”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

dabi’s been gone for a while and you’re soo bored. you stop doom scrolling and open your texts to him.

“miss you so much :c send me a selfie.”

it takes a second for him to respond, but when he does you immediately open it.

“not now doll, i’m busy. you’ll see me soon.”

you pout and kick your feet typing back rapidly.

“pretty pretty pleaseeeee daddy need to see you or i’ll die!!”

dabi smirks at his phone. “little brat.” he mutters under his breath.

moments go by and you’re tidying up the apartment to waste time when your phone dings. you jump onto the bed quickly to check your messages.

there you see it. him. covered in blood, smiling, holding up the dude he just beat up, nearly killed, forcing him to take the picture.

“you better fucking smile. this is for my girl and she always gets what she wants. hear that? don’t want to hurt you anymore than i have so say cheese, dickwad.”

you giggle and press your thighs together feeling the rush of being with someone so deliciously violent and yet so gentle with you.

you send a selfie back wearing one of his ripped up t-shirts and nothing but dainty little panties showing off the wet patch that’s started to form- you immediately get a response from him.

“you’re going to be the death of me. on my way, doll.”

“don’t clean up.” you respond giddily.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[yuu-kumeii]

Sakusa Kiyoomi reviews restrooms.

That's right.

Your mask wearing husband reviews restrooms and sends you texts with pictures accompanied by his own comments of it. You don't know why he does this exactly but you're also not exactly complaining.

Because who doesn't love a clean restroom? The convenience of being able to be sure that the public toilet you're in isn't potentially infested with every disease imaginable definitely outweighs the absurdity of it.

Though it does kinda suck since no one believes you at first. Like they'll ask you where Kiyoomi went because he disappeared from the group and you'll tell them that he's probably reviewing the public toilet, only to be met with laughter because they think you're joking.

But you're not, he just does that. It doesn't make you love him any less though because you'll obviously love him and all his flaws, even if they're slightly questionable. But at least now you know which places to avoid.

"Hey, where did Sakusa go? Wasn't he with us?"

"Oh, Kiyoomi is probably off reviewing the public toilets here"

"Heh.....good one"

"But I'm not joking—"

"Baby, you won't believe how clean the bathrooms are here, they're a 4/5"

"That's great Omi, now let's go get a table"

"O h so it really wasn't a joke"

[itsjaywalkers]

for the prompt game: ROSEKILLER 57 WITH BOXER AU IVE BEEN WAITING MY WHOLE LIFE FOR THIS MOMENT……….. (also i hope you’re having a fun day off laurie hi hi 🥺🤍)

HI HI SAINTS BELOVED <333 i actually didn't get the day off bc i'm an idiot and i couldn't say no when my coworker asked me to change shifts.. but at least i got home before 10pm which . is unusual for me lmao . and today's shift was actually kinda fun so !!

anyways, hope you're having a lovely day and that u enjoy this silly lil thing <3 first peek into boxer au rosekiller <3 (i went a bit overboard but they've been plaguing my mind and u don't deserve less)

57. "Teach me to fight."

It's been more than half an hour of hitting the punching bag nonstop when Barty finally decides to take a break. It's not even because he's actually tired, despite the sweat he can already feel dripping down his back and his face. It's because his bad shoulder—the right one—dislocated during the last combination he tried, and after Barty puts it back in place, he's gotta wait a little bit before going back to training.

This happens way too often for comfort, but it's not really painful anymore—it never really was, or maybe Barty has simply dealt with much worse. Besides, the longer he ignores it, the more serious it'll get, which means he'll have an excuse to go get another check-up.

His manager already warned him when he first got the injury after that stupid fight with stupid Potter. Barty began to grow restless during recovery time, and then decided his shoulder was fine when it stopped hurting.

Obviously, he was wrong. Except, it only dislocates when he goes too hard, and he's learnt how to put it back in place without issue, so really, technically, he was sort of right. What does his manager know, anyway? As long as Barty continues winning and putting money in that fucker's pocket, there shouldn't be any complaints.

He pulls up his tank top and dries off some of the sweat on his neck and the side of his face, while rolling his shoulder gently, testing the waters before he goes back to punching, when the hairs at his nape begin to stand up.

There's no noise, no sudden sounds. Barty doesn't hear the door opening, or closing, and yet, when he turns around, smirk already pulling at his lips, he isn't surprised to find someone standing right behind him.

"Hey, Rosie," he greets the other man, who blinks at him, completely deadpan. "I didn't know you were still around. Long shift today?"

"Yes, you did," Evan responds, that cool tone of his sending a pleasing chill down Barty's spine. "Know, that is. I'm pretty sure you've got my schedule memorised."

Barty takes a few moments to drop the hem of his shirt, because he notices the way in which Evan's gaze drops to his stomach and stays there for a handful of seconds. His expression doesn't change, there isn't even a flicker of something in his face, but the attention is more than enough for him.

"Well, you left your email open and your laptop in my near vicinity." Barty shrugs, eyes running up and down Evan's body. He's still wearing that sexy white coat of his, the shirt underneath it perfectly buttoned and tucked inside his jeans.

There's barely any skin showing, because Evan is a little weirdo, but there's some ankle peeking, since the pants are ridiculously tight on him and the legs keep riding up slightly.

Honestly, it's like he's doing it on purpose. Barty can't be blamed if he ends up hard under his sweats. He can already feel some blood rushing south just at the sight of that tiny sliver of soft brown skin.

"And you downloaded my rotas?" Evan guesses, tilting his head to the side.

"Nah," Barty says, crossing his arms over his chest, flexing a little. "Didn't have to. I've got a damn good memory. I read over them for a couple of minutes until they stuck."

Evan nods, not fazed in the slightest.

"That's why you only come in when I'm on shift," Evan states, and it's not a question. He doesn't seem surprised, or freaked out, but then again, he barely shows any emotions. Apart from irritation, that is, and that one's reserved for when Barty is being especially pushy. Or especially horny.

"I don't think I've ever seen any of the other nurses a single time in my life," Barty tells him with a chuckle.

"You have," Evan retorts, and his eyes narrow the tiniest bit. Barty feels a pull in his stomach. "You were talking to Betty three weeks ago, after your match against Black. The bad one. You let her check your shoulder."

Barty lets out an incredulous laugh, not sure on where to focus first, going dizzy with how badly he wants this freak of a man.

He's obsessed with the way in which Evan always seems to get the urge to clarify which Black he's talking about, as if it's not obvious, considering only one of them fights. How he's always so precise, never allowing any ambiguity into his sentences. How almost nothing seems to hold his focus apart from his experiments and medicine and his patients' injuries, and yet, here he is, remembering when Barty talked to someone else momentarily.

"Did I?" Barty asks innocently, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his shit-eating grin at bay.

"Yes," Evan responds, a little furrow appearing between his eyebrows. "She was touching you."

"Was she?" The corners of Barty's mouth are twitching so much he's sure he must look like an absolute maniac.

"Yes," Evan repeats, some exasperation slipping into his voice. "She wasn't even doing it right. She kept kneading the muscle in the same place, instead of checking the ligament, and she did this for more than five minutes, even though it takes seconds to find out about a dislocation—"

"Rosie," Barty cuts him off gently, watching, with no little amount of delight, how Evan's frown worsens. "I didn't even know her fucking name. I couldn't give less of a fuck about stupid Betty, or whatever the hell she's called."

Evan blinks slowly. "But you—"

"I was tired and sore after that match, my shoulder was bothering me, and she was there. My manager told her to check my shoulder, just in case I had fucked it up beyond solution, but if I had known you were around she wouldn't have laid a single finger on me."

There's a beat of silence, Evan's dead eyes searching all over Barty's face, assessing and determined. He smirks at him, which results in Evan huffing and looking away.

"Don't do it again," it's what he ends up mumbling, and if Barty didn't know any better, he'd dare to say Evan is close to pouting. "You're my patient."

Barty raises both eyebrows, a deranged smile splitting his face while he perks up like a goddamn dog. "Is that jealousy I'm hearing, Rosie?"

"No," Evan drawls, straightening up. "It's just the truth. You're not my only patient, you know? But if you're getting treated by me, then you're not allowed to see any other nurses."

"Damn, way to make a man feel special," Barty scoffs, but he does actually kind of mean it. Which he's aware might be a bit pathetic, but, well, he'll be whatever the fuck Evan wants him to. "Wasn't interested in seeing any other nurses, anyway."

"Good." Evan nods, almost to himself, and Barty has to make an active effort not to coo. "Are you done training?"

Barty blinks a couple of times, slightly taken aback, both by the sudden change of topic and by Evan entertaining conversation. Normally, talking to the other boy feels like pulling teeth—oh, man, Rosie would fucking love this comparison—which Barty doesn't mind because he finds it incredibly fun. Unless Evan is going on one of his medical rants, and yeah, Barty shouldn't find it as attractive as he does, but it's not like he's ever worked like he's supposed to.

But this? This is new.

"Not really," Barty answers, still feeling off-kilter. He shakes his head, forcibly pulling himself out of his mind. "Why? You wanna join me, Rosie?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

Barty snorts, assuming that it's a joke, even though he's more than aware that Evan doesn't do jokes, because his humour is way too dark, and rarely finds funny what others do. But Evan's expression doesn't change, and Barty nearly chokes on his own spit.

"Wait, you're serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've never been interested in boxing," Barty points out.

"That's a lie. I watch every match," Evan argues, lips pursed.

"Because you're job kind of forces you to."

"Also a lie. I need to be there when I'm on shift, in case they call for me, but I'm not required to actually watch."

"Yeah, but you still do, because your pretty little morbid head goes absolutely feral at the prospect of seeing some blood."

Evan scrunches his nose, as if disgusted.

"You're wrong," Evan lies, expression giving absolutely nothing away. Really, if Barty didn't already know the truth, he'd be inclined to believe him. "It's got nothing to do with that. I like boxing."

Barty huffs, the noise filled with amusement. "Sure you do, Rosie."

"I really do," Evan insists, always so ridiculously stubborn.

"I don't know who you're trying to convince, but—"

"Teach me to fight."

Barty sputters, brows almost reaching his hairline, and he gapes at Evan, who's still staring at him. He seems unaffacted by Barty's dramatics, but then again, he's unaffected by almost everything.

"The fuck?" he manages to spit out at some point.

"Teach me to fight," Evan says again, a lot slower, as if Barty is some kind of idiot. God, he wans to fucking devour him.

Barty isn't sure of what's going on right now. Evan barely interacts with him outside of their appointments, it's always him reaching out, so he doesn't understand what prompted this. What Evan is hoping to achieve.

"Why?"

"I told you, I like boxing."

"Yeah, okay. And the real reason?"

Evan's tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, and it's so, so hard for Barty, not to make a very inappropriate joke.

"I'm testing something," he admits, albeit bedgrugingly.

"Ah, so you want me to be your guinea pig," Barty sighs a bit dreamily. "That sounds more like it."

"Sure," Evan agrees with unsurprising ease. "Will you?"

"All you had to do was ask, Rosie."

They get to work right after that. Barty doesn't even bother with suggesting a change of clothes, because he's aware of how well that'd be received. The fact that Evan chooses to take the white coat off is already more than Barty expected.

He tries to show him how to stand, how to do a basic punch. Evan knows most of the basic theory, mostly due to how often he deals with boxing injuries, but he's absolutely helpless when he has to act it out himself.

It doesn't matter how often Barty corrects him; he keeps slouching, stance all wonky. He lacks strength, and he takes a bit too long to protect his face after doing a jab.

The main issue, though, is his obvious lack of interest.

Evan seems to be distracted by something, too inside his own head, and when Barty is about to point this out, poke some fun at him in hopes of getting Evan to snap, the other man speaks again.

"That's enough," he declares, tone leaving no place for argument. "Let's spar."

Barty chuckles, disbelieving, but then Evan is sending a glare his way, and he raises both hands in mock surrender, giving in immediately.

He'll do pretty much whatever the fuck Evan wants him to, really.

They both get into position, and regardless of how much Barty is holding back, trying to give the other man a chance, is actually kind of laughable, how easily he overcomes him.

One moment they're exchanging soft blows, and the next Barty has Evan pinned to the floor, his legs and arms completely immobilised as Barty grins maniacally from above.

"Happy now, Rosie?" he teases.

Evan presses his mouth in a tight line. "Not quite."

"Oh, really? Because I'm starting to think this was all a ruse to get me on top of you."

Evan rolls his eyes so hard Barty worries they might get stuck inside his skull. "I'm afraid that's more your style. And anyway, I don't think it's wise to understimate your opponent like this."

"It's nothing personal, Rosie, but when victory is already mine, I—"

Barty never gets to finish. Evan raises his head so quickly his brain barely registers it, and then he's sinking his teeth hard where Barty's neck meets his shoulder. Until he breaks skin, until he draws blood, until Barty lets out a pained groan and his body goes slack, more in surprise than actual hurt.

A moment later, their positions are reversed. Evan is straddling him, mouth still attached to his skin, and Barty is lying on the cold ground, dizzy and a little bit breathless.

He doesn't know how long they stay like this—definitely not enough—but after a while, Evan lets go and sits up a little, lips stained red. It's dripping down his chin, and when he parts his mouth a little, panting softly, Barty finds out that his teeth are also crimson with blood. With his blood.

Barty groans again.

"You're hard," Evan comments, painfully nonchalant. It's that same casualness he used the first time Barty had an erection during an appointment, after Evan had pulled at the stitches on his leg and stuck his fingers inside Barty's wound.

"Yeah," he breathes out, half-delirious. "Yeah, no shit."

Evan hums, cocking his head to the side, analytical gaze running up and down Barty's body and making him twitch in his pants. The fact that Evan can feel it right under him, between his legs, forces Barty to swallow down a moan.

Barty is about to say something incredibly stupid to maybe, hopefully, alleviate the tension, when Evan leans down once more; this time, slower, more careful.

He's prepared to feel the sting of a bite again, toes curling in excitement, but it never comes. Instead, there's something wet and tentative and soft lapping at the open wound, gathering all the blood there that is still coming out.

It takes Barty a moment to realise it's Evan's tongue.

The knowledge hits Barty like a motherfucking bus. He can't stop a low moan from coming out now, or his hips from thrusting up, searching for something, anything, that Evan might give him.

Surprisingly, and instead of pulling away, the other man makes an odd noise against his skin, and Barty thinks he's imagining it when Evan presses down on him.

He freezes up after that, but only for a second, Evan's licking never stopping. But then Barty moves again, more purposefully, rubbing his erection against the apex of Evan's thighs.

The response is immediate, although definitely unconscious. Evan grinds back experimentally, with no coordination or finesse, dropping another sound into Barty's bleeding wound.

His eyes widen when his brain finally catches up properly, hands coming up to grab at Evan's hips and halt his movements.

"Rosie, are you..." Barty stops, swallows harshly. "Are you turned on right now?"

Evan laps at the blood a few more times before straightening up again, staring down at Barty with unblinking eyes and red all over his face.

"Fuck, are you—?" A laugh, strained and bordering on hysterical. "Are you wet?" He doesn't even need to check to know the answer.

Evans nods, almost imperceptibly. "Apparently so."

He has half a mind to turn them over and fuck Evan into the floor. Until Evan is a whimpering mess. Until he's crying, begging, unable to do anything but fucking take it. Until he's sore, and hurt, and full, but still asking for more. Until he can't say anything else apart from Barty's name, until he's—

"Bloody hell," Barty whispers, shutting his eyes tight and letting out another cackle.

Oh, he's going to die. He's absolutely going to fucking die.

[itoshi-s]

i'm sorry i'm sorry i saw your tag about older brother's best friend aiku and i actually SCREAMED because that's such a thought inducing idea . . . he does have that vibe, and he pulls it off so well !! i feel like he fits the trope of someone you've known your whole life but who was always just a bit too old for you to actually spend time with — until you eventually get a bit older too and start getting closer with him and that's when the fun starts yk lmao

i'm- babes i am looking so respectfully this is SO right 🤕

˚୨୧⋆ 𝑛𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑖𝑎

wc: 1.3k. cw: slightly suggestive, reader is referred to as sister/might be femcoded, this started as a drabble and well.. we're here now, could be dc potential, could just be some pining ꒰ minors/ageless blogs dni ꒱

you've known aiku since what feels like forever, and he's always had this confident, slightly intimidating aura to him, even back when all three of you were just kids. the age gap between you two wasn't anything crazy, at least not by the time you were both grown adults, but the four years seemed to pose more of a problem back when you were still in school. you were always a bit timid around your brothers friends, palms growing clammy when you'd have to come into his room and call them for dinner or fetch something - but they were only ever nice to you anyway. you were just there, your brother's little sister, perhaps a bit too young to fully understand their jokes or why they're so clumsy when stumbling up the stairs at 3 am. but hey, it's not like you felt bad about it, really.

your brother and his friends were good kids, however - oliver included. never got into too much trouble, always so respectful when coming over and talking to your parents. by the time your brother dropped soccer somewhere in the middle of high school, aiku was already considered a national gem and proudly carried the weight of being japan's hope.

finally about to step into the lifestyle you saw your brother and all his friends engage in for the past few years, you weren't surprised at all to only ever see aiku, the nicest one of the group (the most handsome, too) on the tv screen anymore. he's left for some kind of soccer project, then got scouted by the ubers back in italy, and you truly felt so happy for the boy after everything you've seen him go through. the two of you wasn't exactly close, not at all, but he's always been so kind to you, told you sincere words on how you should never give up your dreams no matter how silly they felt; helped you with the stupid physics project that your brother couldn't figure out for the life of him, either (it runs by blood, after all).

you don't keep in touch with any of the guys, but stumble upon some of them on the streets of your hometown ever so often. you exchange smiles, familiarize each other with what you're up to now, then go off with your day as usual.

(you don't know each of them teases your brother on how well you've grown. he tells them to shut the fuck up every time cause, fuck, the thought alone is gross, and he'd rather kill them than allow you to get involved with either of 'em.)

oliver's the one you see the rarest. it's only natural with his field of work, busier than anything any of you could ever put your minds to. it is kind of funny to see his face on gossip sites, though, so if there's ever any disappointment threatening to build up on you, it works just well to ease it.

the first time you properly meet him again after three or four years is when you just happen to be going through the worst shift you've had in ages, and he's the one most annoying client, casually stepping into the store mere minutes away from closing.

"aiku-kun?" you sound surprised when you make out the familiar features, sharp yet warm eyes flickering under the bright lights when he grins.

he sets the ramune bottle down, pushing it in your direction.

"in the flesh", he chuckles, "you doing night shifts now?" the man asks, almost sounding just as taken aback (one thing he remembers about you is that you've never liked to stay up late, and hated being out when it got dark).

you just give a shrug.

oliver learns you're not silent because you're busy ringing him up or still shocked to see him - you sniff and wipe at your eyes haphazardly and only then does he realize that you're feeling down, and probably cried at the back minutes before he came in.

"they're paying me better for these," you mumble, manicured nail tapping on the register. you don't look up when speaking, too embarrassed to let him see you this messed up when he looks so stupidly handsome. italy treated him well- time, too. "is that a-"

you glance up upon the sound of clinking glass. there's another bottle of soda standing next to his, and it just happens to be your favorite flavor, too.

(he remembered, and as sweet as it is, it's not a big deal. then why are you blushing? why are your palms suddenly clammy, like back in the old times?)

"wrap it up, i'll be waiting outside." oliver offers, thick lashes fluttering as he blinks. almost expectantly, but it's not like he wants to pressure you into agreeing. (it'd be nice, though. and you just happen to be as meek as always, and crumble under the intensity of his gaze instantly - as if that's what his true motive was all along.) "unless you're busy?"

you shake your head, wiping your hands on the back of your jeans. "no, not at all."

you join oliver on a quiet drive down the streets of your neighbourhood, eventually reaching the local view spot that you've spent all too many late nights at - both of you. the only difference's that it's all nostalgia to him, and it's still your very present, a weekly way to hang out - perhaps just following what your older siblings did.

and even though it's your very first time sitting in a car so expensive, the defender's presence is oddly comforting. familiar, in a way, and you only ever realize how much you've missed it when he wordlessly encourages you to open yourself up before him. he's always been so effortlessly charming, inviting in a way - and he still is, even though your heart wants to leap out of your chest when his fingers brush along yours as he helps you push the round marble down.

"so," the brunette clears his throat, "he dumped you over a text?" he knocks the bottle neck of his drink with yours, bicolored gaze seemingly burning through you as he watches you nod.

you hum, taking a sip of the bubbly beverage and looking out the city's panorama. oliver rolls his eyes, rubbing at the nape of his neck and leaning back in his seat.

"that's a real dick move, you know?" he states matter-of-factly, to which you snort, "guys like that don't deserve your tears, kid."

"says who," you quip. from your peripheral, you notice him turn his head back to you. "i've seen the articles, loverboy. m'not sure if you're the best advisor." you tease, cheek resting on top of your bare shoulder as you grin at him.

the man bites back a laugh, canines on show when he smiles to himself and frankly, the sight's making your tummy flutter with an unknown, fairly new feeling, no matter how much you try to ward the butterflies off.

you don't know it yet, and aiku's quite sure of it, actually - there's the exact same sensation bubbling somewhere in his chest, too, when he shamelessly, ravenously takes in the soft glow of your skin, decolletage on show thanks to the tiny spaghetti strap top you're wearing. your eyes are as wide as ever, despite all the burdens and daily struggles simmering behind your affection and interest-blown pupils, and there's this almost dreamy, captivating smile, one that beautifully compliments your now more womanly-like, refined features.

perhaps it's better you don't ever become familiar with the thoughts that start to simmer in his head - you, moaning into his mouth as he steals kisses from those taunting, plush lips of yours, that he's sure currently taste of the artificial sweet pineapple you're sipping on; you, down on your knees in front of him, giving him the same soft, gullible look, on the verge of pleading for all the attention he forwent in the past.

and fuck, he's aware of it - annoyingly so - but oliver has agreed to let go of a few too many things in life already.

you're not about to be one of them, too.

© itoshi-s. do not plagiarize, repost as your own or mention on other sm platforms.