#mourning my wallet

[lunar-years]

my kryptonite: slap a pop culture reference or book title or character i like or song I enjoy onto the label of a skein of yarn and I WILL convince myself I love the color scheme too much not to spend $30 on it

[call-me-zephyrus]

It's Almost Halloween BAABYYYYYYY

Been working on this for almost a month now, and ready to test it out today!

This is the day I can't go back into the shadows about liking a lego show.

[goreador]

excited as hell for thursday

[thegeekyartist]

My tattoo artist released their Halloween flash and one of them is The Bat-Woman.

Why did they have to move hundreds of miles away from meeeeeeee 😭

[changbinholic]

The difference between kpop concerts and metal concerts is so big but shit if both of those aren't my worlds then idk what is

[puckinghischier]

Cart Girls & Curly Q’s

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke has a crush on the cart girl

notes: for once, i feel like i didn’t really struggle while writing luke. this probably isn’t one of my best works, but i loved the idea and i’m so glad i was able to try to bring it to life. hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say yes.” with Luke and maybe a cart girl at the golf club close to the summer lake house?

[3k]

Most of your friends absolutely hate going to work in the summertime. They hate being stuck in an office or storefront all day, no chance to enjoy the high UV and prime lake hours.

You, however, never wake up dreading your work.

During the cold, Michigan winters, you work as a bartender at your college’s local bar. You attend your classes in the morning, do your homework in the afternoon, then clock into your shifts at night. You have the routine down to a science.

During the summers, though, you found a job as the cart girl at the uppity country club closest to the large community of expensive lake houses you drive by every morning.

The tips are amazing, and getting paid to drive around in the sunshine and watch attractive men play golf all day is what you call a small piece of paradise. Not to mention you’re off by five o’clock every day, allowing time to join your friends and family out on the boat for night swims and evening rides.

Today was especially good, with it being one of the hottest days of the summer, your sales were sky high.

You’ve already had to restock your beer cooler three times this morning, and it’s barely even noon.

Your boss has really been pushing the sale of liquor, so you inform every group you pass about your buy a double, get a single shot half off deal, but nothing calls to a man more than a cold beer on a hot golf course.

Many of the men you’ve served today have given you a tip simply because you’re out working in the heat, delivering beers ‘like an angel’ one middle aged man told you, handing you an extra ten.

You just laughed and told him thank you, pocketing the cash. You always loved weekend mornings, locals and vacationers alike all over the course, upping your sales, and as a result, your tips.

As you’re leaving the club house after yet another restock, you see a group of guys that you assumed were around your age.

They were being loud, but not obnoxious, as they piled into two carts and sped their way out to the course, eager to get their game started.

You wondered when you would see them, having been told not to bother people until they’re at least on hole two. Apparently, people get mad when you try to sell them alcohol in the middle of their first stroke.

Making your way around your normal path, you start at hole eight and work your way in a circle until you get back to the clubhouse, the later holes being your big money makers. People are either celebrating their lead or mourning their loss at that point, wanting a drink either way.

You sell a few shots, making your boss happy no doubt, but run out of beers for the fourth time that day around hole sixteen. You stop and offer to each group after that, selling a few more liquor items, but were mostly told to come back when you had beer again.

Flying down the cart path, you see the same group of guys from earlier around hole seven, one out of the group flagging you down as you speed by.

You slow your cart down to a stop and they walk over to meet you, grabbing their wallets from their carts as they approach you.

“Sorry, boys, out of beer. On my way back to the clubhouse now to restock if you want to wait a few,” you tell them once they’re within ear shot, not wanting to get their hopes up.

“Well, do you have anything you can sell us? I’m getting beat pretty bad out here and need a pick me up. Don’t really care what it is,” a brunette pleaded.

You tell him about the shot deals, and he hands you his I.D., requesting a double shot of crown and ginger-ale before turning and asking his cart buddy what he wanted.

“Jack, what do you want?” he calls over to a guy that looked similar to him, thinking to yourself that they could be brothers.

He explains the discount to the other brunette, saying he’s already paid, just to pick what he wanted.

After viewing the second player’s I.D., your brother theory is confirmed by their matching last name.

Jack, you learned, asked for a simple, funnily enough, Jack and coke.

“Alright, gentlemen, anything else I can do for you?” you ask, turning to face the last member of the group.

You make eye contact with a tall, curly-headed boy, noticing the pink tone of his cheeks when you catch him staring at you.

“Anything for you, curly Q?” you ask him, taking note of how attractive he was. You always play up the flirting a little when you find a player on the course attractive, figuring it’ll help your sales while simultaneously allowing you to have a little fun.

His cheeks turn an ever-deeper shade of red when he realizes you’re talking to him, freezing up and averting his eyes. You feel a little bad for putting him on the spot, but you find his shyness endearing.

“Nah, Lukey here isn’t old enough, is he Quinny? Still got a few months till you can drink with the big bros. Isn’t that right, Luke?” the brunette named Jack slaps who you’ve now learned is Luke on the back.

You let out a chuckle, witnessing the deadly glare Luke shoots at his older brother.

“Don’t worry, they picked a cart girl that isn’t even old enough to drink, either. Won’t be able to drink the concoctions I make until next spring,” you tell him, hoping to alleviate a little of the embarrassment you caused him.

“Oh, wow,” is all he utters out, bringing out another laugh from you.

“Alright, well, I’ll let you boys get back to your game,” you tell them, walking back over to get back into your cart.

You ride off, thinking of the tall, curly brunette the whole time.

Three hours later, you’re tending the clubhouse bar.

When you came back in for restock, your boss told you it was too hot for you to keep your role as cart girl all day, insisting you switch out with one of your coworkers.

You weren’t too upset with the trade off, now in air conditioning but still getting tips from buzzed players after their game, either nursing their loss or celebrating their win.

The clubhouse gets busier as the day goes on, people dipping in for a quick cool off after playing eighteen holes in the heat.

“Hey, new body down on the end. Care to get it for me?” your co-tender, Brady, asks you, the two of you working in tandem.

You nod at him as you finish pouring the beer in your hand, walking down to the other end of the bar.

“Hey, player, what can I get for ya?” you ask the stranger, not looking up as you place a coaster in front of the patron.

“Just-Just a water, if you don’t mind,” he asks, slightly stumbling his words.

You look up to see the curly brunette, Luke, from earlier.

“Oh, it’s you. Curly Q,” you say, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice.

“Name’s Luke, actually,” he tells you, the redness from earlier returning to his cheeks.

“Yeah, I remember. Just think Curly Q fits you better,” you smirk at him, placing the glass full of water on his coaster. “I’m Y/N.”

He mumbles a small thanks, taking a sip from the glass.

“Anything else I can get for you?” you ask him, glancing down the bar to see if any new customers have sat down.

He stares at you, his eyes caught like a deer in headlights.

You wait patiently for an answer, letting out a small giggle when he just continues to stare at you.

“Alright, well I’ll let you think about your answer and be right back,” you laugh as you start to walk away.

“Wait!” Luke startles you, stopping you in your tracks. “Uhh..do you…come here often?” he stutters out, closing his eyes tightly in embarrassment as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Your eyes shine at him with amusement. “Well, I work here, so I think I’d have to say yes,” you respond, smiling.

Luke peeks one eye open at you, seeing your amused expression and sighing, letting his body sag.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I asked that,” he runs his hand through his curls nervously.

You rest your arms on the bar in front of you. “Ehh, don’t worry about it,” you tell him, scrunching your nose as you shake your head.

Luke gives you a nervous smile, sliding his water towards his body and running his finger around the rim of the glass.

“I’m sure you talk to all kinds of idiots like me when you’re serving drinks, huh?” he asks, making your face fall a bit at his defeated tone.

You stand a little straighter. “Nah, not really. Most of the idiots I talk to are just old and creepy, not my age and charming,” you tell him, finally earning a laugh from him.

His laugh was more of an amused scoff, but you already want to see the shy smile that makes its way onto his face afterwards, again.

“Yeah, cause a guy that asks you if you come to your job often is the epitome of charming,” he looks up at you.

“Well, it’s kept me here talking to you so far, hasn’t it?”

Luke blushes, making you think the man in front of you is unable to go two minutes without his face turning red.

“Yeah, I guess it has,” he casts his eyes towards his lap.

“So, Luke, you a local or here on vacation?” you ask him, glancing down at the quickly clearing stools. You know Brady is getting all of your tips right now, but you can’t bring yourself to move from your spot.

“Well, a little bit of both. Technically on vacation because I live in New Jersey now, but my parents have owned a lake house here since I was a kid, so I claim the title of a local,” you finally get him to loosen up a little, his body language relaxing. “Plus I went to U of M for a little while, so I’ve spent quite a bit of time over in Ann Arbor.”

“Ahh, a city boy,” you tease, grabbing a glass to wipe down, making it look like you’re at least partially doing your job. “Why’d you leave Ann Arbor?”

“Got a…uh…job offer in Jersey,” he tells you cryptically, eyes darting around the room.

“‘A uh…job offer?’ What are you, in the mafia?” you ask him, mimicking his words and poking fun at his nervousness at telling you about his job.

“Well, not quite,” he starts, laughing a real laugh this time, causing you to mentally record the sound and store it in your brain. “I…ahhh…I play hockey up there.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Like, professionally?”

He sinks back into his seat, looking like he wants to hide.

“Yeah. For the New Jersey Devils. My brother, Jack plays for them, too,” He tries to pass some of the attention off of himself.

“Wait, you and your brother both play in the NHL?” the impressed tone of your voice gives Luke a little boost of confidence.

“Well, both of my brothers, actually. But Quinn plays for the Canucks up in Vancouver. Jack and I are both in Jersey, though.”

You let your mouth hang open at him, not being able to hide your shock.

This earns another laugh from Luke.

“What kind of superhuman DNA do your parents possess?” you ask him.

“Not sure. We’re still being studied as we speak,” Luke leans closer, whispering like he’s telling you a secret. “The big wigs in the NHL haven’t found out yet that they grew us in test tubes in their basement.”

You let out a laugh so loud that you gain the attention of several men on the other end of the bar, slapping your hand over your mouth.

Luke leans back in his seat, a fond smile on his face as he sees your embarrassed expression.

“Hey, Y/N, you gonna come help me do your job or what?” you hear Brady yell, annoyed that he’s been working the whole bar alone for the past ten minutes.

You roll your eyes while still facing Luke, removing your hand from your mouth and turning your head to respond. “Yeah, don’t get your club all bent, I’ll be right there.”

Luke’s still smiling at you when you turn back to face him.

“Guess that’s my cue to get back to my job and quit talking to cute boys sitting at the bar, huh?” you spew, realizing what you just said a second too late.

Luke’s eyebrows shoot up, his back straightening in surprise.

You pause all movements, staring at Luke.

“Uhh…anyways, gotta go do my job. Y’know, the thing I come around often for?” you make a call back to Luke’s attempt at a line earlier, hoping it take some of the attention off of what you just said.

Luke chuckles at you. “Yeah, I need to go meet back up with my fellow lab rats, anyways,” he tells you, reaching for his wallet, placing a twenty down on the bar.

“You do realize water is free, right?” you tell him, sliding the bill back to him.

“Yeah. Figured I’d try to make up for the tips I caused you to lose, though,” he shrugs his shoulders, standing from his chair.

“Nope, I’m not taking your money. Feels like you’re just paying me for talking to you,” you tell him, holding the money out towards him and shaking it around, trying to make him take it.

Luke shakes his head at your stubbornness. “C’mon, just take it. Your coworker collected all kinds of tips while you were over here.”

“Nope,” you shake your head, leaning over and grabbing Luke’s arm, placing the money in his hand.

“I need to do something, though. I feel bad causing you to lose out on money that should’ve been yours,” he insists.

“Well, I guess I’ll let you make it up to me,” you start, watching him try to lay the money down again and shooting your arm out, preventing him from doing so. “By giving me your number,” you decide to be bold.

Luke goes still. “Uhh, y-yeah. Sure,” he snaps out of his momentary freeze, fumbling for his phone, handing it over to you.

You put your number in his phone, sending yourself a text before handing it back with a wink.

“I guess I’ll talk to you later?” Luke asks, pushing his stool in.

You nod your head yes, turning to go back to your job duties.

You turn back around after you take a few steps, seeing Luke walking away with his back turned.

“Hey, Curly Q!” you call after him, causing him to turn to look at you. “I get off at five, in case you were wondering,” you shout towards him, flashing a smirk before you walk away.

Luke smiles and shakes his head, making his way towards the other side of the clubhouse.

You watch his figure as he moves across the room, stopping to make small talk with a man, shaking his head before joining his brothers at a small table on the restaurant side of the clubhouse, picking up his menu and browsing the food selection.

You smile to yourself and go back to stacking glasses.

As you’re transferring a new stack of clean glasses to the cooler under the bar, you hear someone call your name from above you.

You stand, rattling off your typical greeting to the new customer.

“Someone named Luke asked me to give this to you,” he tells you, handing you the same twenty-dollar bill Luke had tried to hand you a few minutes prior.

You pick up the bill as the stranger walks away, looking down at it before raising your head and looking for the curly headed culprit.

You meet Luke’s eye, raising a brow at him while lifting the paper money, pointing at it.

Luke shrugs his shoulders and grins from across the room.

Months later, when you’re attending your first ever Devils game in support of your newly titled boyfriend, you watch him skate out on the ice for warm ups, making a bee-line to the seat he provided for you.

He looks at you in his Jersey, a sight he pictured from the moment he first saw you on the golf course last summer, wondering how he managed to impress the pretty cart girl he embarrassed himself with, what feels like so long ago.

Your smile took up your entire face as you waved at him, excited to finally see him play in person. He smiles back, pointing down to the ground, asking if you wanted a puck.

You nodded your head yes, watching him pick up a puck and take the cover off of a small cut out in the plexiglass separating the two of you.

When he slides the puck through the hand sized hole, you grab onto his glove, replacing the puck with a piece of paper before pushing his hand back towards him.

He looks down at his hand, confusion written all over his face. He opens his glove, looking down at his hand, his head snapping up to look at you once he realizes what you had done.

“There’s your tip, hot shot!” you shout at him through the glass, smiling in amusement, seeing the same twenty-dollar bill from the first day you met him resting in his red glove, never imagining that the nervous, bumbling boy sitting in front of you at the bar that day would make you feel like the luckiest girl in all of Michigan, and now New Jersey.

[salaimoi]

𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 — 𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒆𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒔𝒚𝒑𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔] after his wife’s death, you became toji fushiguro’s only reliant shoulder. however, unbeknownst to you, your deceased friend’s ex-husband had ulterior motives in mind when he began to pursue you.

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆] angst

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒘𝒄] 2.k

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔] yellow is reader’s pov, blue is toji’s pov. it might sound repetitive and rushed bc i just wanted to get this out of my drafts. i know billie’s song came out like ages ago so it wouldn’t make sense to release this any later than it already is

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Things fall apart, and time breaks your heart. I wasn't there, but I know.

toji always reassured you a million times; he wasn’t heartbroken over his split with his ex-wife, not in the slightest. he rarely opened up about his past, let alone his previous relationships. and yet, deep down, you knew he hadn’t properly processed their rupture.

the most he ever disclosed to you was the fact that there was nothing left to salvage in his old relationship — so he moved on, and so did she. 

but was that the entire truth? 

you noticed the prolonged glances he would take when opening his wallet. the empty look behind his eyes when he stared down at his naked ring finger. even the faint sniffling at night that he tried convincing you were nothing more than allergies. but you knew he was silently mourning her. 

her – the real love of his life.

She was my girl. I showed her the world, but fell out of love and we both let go. ⋆࿐

i made it my life goal to tend to her happiness. the only reason for my very existence was to see that she had everything she could ever want. hell, that’s the only thing i’ve ever been good at.

i never kept anything from her — except my line of work. i couldn’t bring myself to tell her the man she fell in love with was a deadbeat mercenary who bathed in the blood of others for a living. as much as i tried to protect her from that side of my life, she eventually went digging her nose where it wasn’t needed. 

the aftermath of her discovering the truth about my hidden agenda came at the price of our relationship. 

she couldn’t withstand the constant pain of being by my side any longer, to turn in bed only to see a bastard by her side. she wholeheartedly believed that the man that now stood before her was no longer the one she fell in love with. 

somehow i didn’t blame her.

She was cryin’ on my shoulder. All I could do was hold her.

i still remember it so vividly — how her body trembled against mine like a leaf. tears coursed down her cheeks as she clung to me like a lifeline, seeking comfort in the midst of her anguish. as selfish as it may sound, the weight of her sorrow became almost too much to bear. 

i couldn't offer excuses or apologies; these were empty gestures that wouldn't alleviate the agony she felt at that moment. instead, i stood there, silently holding her, offering my presence as the only comfort.

the guilt washed over me in waves as i cradled her, feeling her heart shatter a little more with each sob. i knew i was the cause of her pain, yet i couldn’t tell her the whole truth. all i could do was hold her, wishing i could undo the past.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Only made us closer until July.

the moment he began pursuing you when enough time had gone by, it immediately felt wrong. he was your friend’s ex-husband, after all. toji had never looked at you twice before, and now, he suddenly had lustful eyes for you? 

you eventually conceded because you wanted to be there for him, giving him the benefit of the doubt that he had no ulterior motives. but one way or another, every conversation at dinner circled back to her. 

“oh she loved mashed potatoes.” 

“fun fact, she had a strawberry allergy.” 

“did you know this brand of vanilla ice cream was her favorite?”

and as much as it pained you, you became a reliant ear for him — someone who would listen to all the little details he swore he had forgotten the day she divorced him. even if every bone in your body wanted to run in the opposite direction, far, far away from him, you stayed. 

maybe all he needs is time, you told yourself.

right?

Now I know that you love me. You don't need to remind me. I should put it all behind me, shouldn't I? ⋆࿐

your affection always remained a constant in my turbulent world, like a gentle rain that falls softly even amidst the storm. but the longer the internal storm went on, the more ravenous the regret and guilt raged on. i found myself unable to fully comprehend the depth of your love for me, but deep down, i knew that your love was unwavering. 

i knew that in order to truly move on, i had to let go of the past and embrace the present; you represented that fresh start i so urgently needed. but the thought of her still lingered, a constant reminder of what once was but should no longer be. it was as if i was being consumed by my own memories, unable to break free. as if a part of me still longed for the past. 

the weight of my conflicting emotions burdened my every waking moment, leading me to push you away with no explanation. feelings for the both of you coexisted, and i couldn't fully commit to one without betraying the other. every time i looked at you, guilt would wash over me for putting you through this hell.

 likewise, every time i looked at her picture, i felt like a traitor for ever moving on as soon as i did.

But I see her in the back of my mind all the time. Just like a fever, like I’m burning alive, like a sign. ⋆࿐

beneath the mask of indifference, i was plagued by shame. it was hard to accept that the girl who once consumed my thoughts was no longer part of my life, and looking at you, i realized that your love knew no bounds; that wasn’t enough for me. 

i hadn’t stopped loving her. 

it felt like a fever that never broke. an unrelenting heat that burned deep inside me, reminding me of the girl who dwelled in the back of my mind all those years ago.

every word about my past, every little detail about my ex, felt like a confession at church – a church where my sins would be revealed to the world. 

talking about my past wouldn’t magically absolve me of my past, now would it? redemption was never an option for me, and i wasn’t asking for it. instead of trying to cleanse myself of my history, i decided to leave it all behind like a forgotten box in an attic. 

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Well, good things don't last, and life moves so fast. I'd never ask who was better 'cause she couldn't be more different from me.

he told you to let it go — to let it die like she did that fateful day. it was no use keeping her memory alive, he said, but if that was the case, why did he take her last name months later? 

not to mention they spent years together — even conceived a child together; a child he named after her, but that detail never seemed to make its way to you. 

everyone told you to stop comparing yourself, but how could you not? she was everything you weren’t even after death: soft spoken, graceful, gentle, patient, loving. 

you didn’t dare ask such a redundant question so you didn’t voice it, but your continuous comparison to her was eating you alive; toji noticed it. you hadn’t slept with him in almost a month, internally afraid he’ll blurt out her name instead of yours.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 And I know that you love me. you don't need to remind me.

he went out of his way to send more ‘i love u’ messages than before; they seemed forced, just like your relationship. 

she had previously informed you of things that found their way to the most profound recesses of your mind. you didn’t flinch at the time, because you were mesmerized that he did such things for her, but it affected you later on. 

you learned bitter truths that made you doubt his love for you. and when you finally realized he didn’t do any of the things she spoke of, it dawned on you; toji didn’t love you. 

not like he loved her. 

𓂃 ོ𓂃 You say no one knows you so well but every time you touch me, I just wonder how she felt.

you’d stay up late at night countless times wondering what toji’s affectionate touch actually felt like. it was something only she ever knew, and you’d do anything to get a semblance of that feeling. 

but it was obvious no one knows the real him — not like she did.

despite everything, you decided to give this relationship one last try by booking a hotel for the both of you. everything inside you screamed that it was a horrible idea, but you did it anyway.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Valentine's Day, cryin’ in the hotel. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, so I kept it to myself.

and he finally did it. he mistakenly blurted out her name on the most romantic day of the year. 

“i-i’m sorry.” toji rushed to apologize, grabbing a hold of your arm so you wouldn’t walk out the door.

“I wonder, do you see HER in the back of your mind, in my eyes!?” was the only thing you could force yourself to reply in that moment, breaking away from his grip in the process.  

“i do,” toji dejectedly admits with a hint of sorrow behind his voice. or was it indignity?

he pauses, absentmindedly digging his nails into the tender flesh of his balled up fist as he grapples with his conscience. all along, he knew the day to finally hold himself accountable would come, but he didn’t think it would’ve been like this. 

his mind involuntarily wandered, and in the depths of your gaze, he saw glimpses of his deceased wife — a ghost that lingered in the back of his subconscious even after all this time.  

memories of her flood his mind, and for a brief moment, the both of you merge into one — his past and present colliding into one. the familiar shade of your irises, the identical shine behind them, the bright glimmer of light behind them when you smiled — all of it brought a pang of bittersweet nostalgia to him. 

silence overtook the room like a storm, and with it, your heart. so he does see a reflection of his dead wife when he stares into your eyes — the eyes he promised captivated him to no bounds. 

“was all of it a lie, then?” 

“no.” 

“how was it not a lie, toji?”

“it wasn’t a lie, doll-“ 

“don’t call me that.” you interrupt him with words almost sharp enough to cut him, a slight tremble behind your voice. 

tears immediately welled up in the delicate corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. his expression softened at the sight; however, his reluctance to approach you remained. he knew he was the reason behind your hurt, just like he was the cause of hers all that time ago. history does indeed repeat itself, doesn’t it? 

he wished he could find the words that would help ease your pain — the exhaustion and heartache you felt. to take it all away with a mere sentence, that would be quite incredible. but that’s not how life works.

“okay.” he finally whispered, inhaling a deep breath in a mix of defeat and remorse before continuing. “i promise none of it was a lie; i meant every word. i really meant it when i said i adored your eyes…” 

he dry swallows a couple of times, as if doing so would suppress the sorrow lodged in his throat. his eyes darted around the room, as to not meet your own out of the unbearable guilt that simply refused to be consumed. 

the hesitation behind his subtle actions was a telltale that there was a ‘but’ hidden underneath the surface-level flattery. and with an equal amount of incertitude and delay behind your own words, alongside with a hoarse voice, you brace yourself for the moment he finally admits this so-called love of yours was nothing but an illusion.

“but?” 

“…but they’re not her eyes.” 

[honeyedmiller]

A Burning Desire part one

firefighter!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: joel miller au, fluff, mutual pining, reader is a tad bit shy, sort of a slow burn, tons of flirting, reader gets into a serious car accident (but they’re fine i promise), mentions of minor cuts, bruises and disorientation from car accident, brief mentions of blood, no use of y/n. some descriptions of the car accident may not be suitable for everyone to read, so please be weary of this if you choose to read on.

word count: 3.1k

synopsis: you meet a handsome firefighter on a day where everything just feels… different.

a/n: would you believe me if i said this au has been in my drafts since october of last year? it’s a miracle i actually finished it. i scrapped the first idea i had for this au and switched it to this instead. hope you enjoy!

divider by @saradika-graphics

Today wasn’t like most days. 

Something had felt off. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but a feeling was there, idling in the depths of your very being. 

Maybe it was the way the summer sun was actually shining instead of a roaring thunderstorm rolling through Austin. Maybe it was the way you’d woken up to the sound of mourning doves, the birds you swore you hadn’t heard since childhood. Maybe it was the pleasant walk you had taken to your local café, multiple strangers smiling at you along the way. 

Or, maybe, it was the handsome stranger behind you in line at the café that had caught your eye. 

You didn’t mean to look intentionally. You just happened to have wandering eyes, enjoying the cozy atmosphere of Rosemary’s Roastery before your gaze settled on him—the incredibly handsome stranger behind you in line. 

You did a once-over, subtlety not your strong suit today. You immediately noticed he was in navy blue slacks with a black leather belt holding them up at his waist, and a navy blue shirt with Austin FD printed on the upper left corner. 

So he was a firefighter. 

His kind brown eyes caught yours, and time fucking stopped when he smiled at you. You felt your face heat, tossing him a shy smile before turning back around. 

The barista called you up to the counter, and after you gave her your order, you quietly asked if you could pay for the gentleman behind you. She nods with a smile and you wait at the other end of the counter for your drink. 

You watch as the firefighter orders his drink, bewilderment crossing his features when the barista told him his drink had already been paid for. He nods slowly with a smile, tucking his wallet back into the front pocket of his slacks. 

He walks over to the other end of the counter, a shoulder length away from you before turning to you. 

“You didn’t have to do that, darlin’.” His sweet Southern accent dripped like honey through your veins, warming you in a way you didn’t think was possible. 

“It was– uh– no big deal.” You shrug, and he chuckles before crossing his arms over his chest. 

Christ was he broad. His thick biceps strained against the navy blue fabric of his shirt, tan skin glowing under the soft lighting of the café. 

The veins on his forearms were prominent when he flexed his arms with every subtle move. And, god, he was so tall. 

Aside from his dark brown eyes, he had a defined jaw that was sprinkled with graying stubble and a mustache above his dark pink lips to match. His nose was strong and angular; something of a Greek god himself. His hair was dark brown with grays strewn in, the only indicator of his age. If you had to guess, it’s between mid thirties to early forties. 

He quirked a brow at you, hiding his amusement poorly as you checked him out. 

Yeah, subtlety definitely wasn’t your strong suit at all. 

“So what’s your name?” He asks, and you open your mouth to speak before the barista calls your name out to indicate your drink was ready. You sheepishly smile up at him as you thank her and grab your iced coffee. 

“Guess that answers that,” He chuckles, holding out his hand. You slot your hand in his and he gives yours a shake. “I’m Joel.” 

The barista called his name as well, and he thanked her as he grabbed his coffee. 

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” You pull him back in for conversation, deciding to throw all of your shyness behind you. “So, firefighter?” You ask, and he looks confused for a split second before he looks down at his t-shirt. 

He rolls his eyes at himself with a huff of a laugh. “Was thinkin’ you were psychic for a second before I realized my uniform says it clear as day.” He laughed at himself, and it was incredibly infectious. 

You couldn’t help but admire the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. You were so enamored by someone you just met, allowing yourself to indulge in the warm feeling you got in your belly when you talked to him. Never in your life have you experienced this, but the way he made you feel just a few minutes into some small talk had you yearning for him to stick around. 

“My brother and I joined the academy together and now we work at the same station.” He’s thoughtful when he speaks, a telltale sign that him and his brother might be close. 

“That’s really cool. Bet it’s fun working beside him.” You say lamely, internally cringing at yourself for your awful attempt at flirting. 

He doesn’t seem to notice, and thank god for that. 

“It is, when he’s not bein’ a pain in my ass.” 

“Younger brother I’m assuming?” You guess, and Joel looks at you quizzically. 

“Alright, y’sure you’re not psychic or somethin’?” 

You smile and shake your head. “Not at all, Joel. Just good at picking up context clues.” 

“What about the one where I was gonna ask a gorgeous stranger for her number?” His teasing tone warms you, and you bite your lip to suppress the face-splitting smile that was threatening to spill onto your lips. 

“Who’s the stranger? Lucky girl she is.” You play along. 

“Some kind samaritan who decided to pay for my much needed coffee this fine summer morning.” He hums, leaning against the wall next to him. 

“Mm. In that case,” You reach over to the section with the fixings for drinks, grabbing a napkin. You pull a pen out of your purse before scribbling your name and number on the napkin, handing it to Joel. “There you are.” 

He waves the napkin in between both of your bodies, eyes alight with happiness. 

“Definitely usin’ this to text the gorgeous stranger n’ ask her on a date.” 

“Lucky girl. Hope she’ll say yes.” You nudge him softly. 

“I hope she does too,” He grins, looking down at his watch-clad wrist—green band with a black and gray face. His brow furrows and he sighs, taking another sip of his coffee. “‘M real sorry darlin’ I gotta jam. My shift starts in twenty minutes.” 

“No worries, Joel. Hope you have a good shift.” 

“Thank you darlin’. I’ll keep in touch.” He holds up the napkin with a smirk, turning to walk out of the front door. 

You watch as he walks to his truck before exiting the side door, walking back to your apartment. 

-

“Does this mean you have a date for my wedding?” Your sister asks excitedly on the other end of the receiver. 

“Seriously? I just met this man today.” You roll your eyes and continue jotting down grocery items you need to stock up on on a pad of paper. 

“So what? If you guys hit it off that quick then maybe he’d wanna tag along.” 

“You do realize that he’d have to meet the whole family, right? I wouldn’t subject him to that. Plus, we’re getting too ahead of ourselves. I don’t even know if this is gonna go anywhere yet.” 

“Oh come on. Live a little. Let yourself be happy for once, sis.” Your sister is persistent, you’ll give her that. 

“I was fine being single before our small interaction this morning, and I’ll be fine at your wedding without a date too. I’m fine.” Which is sort of true, sort of a lie. You didn’t mind being single, because, hell, it had its perks. 

But another part of you—deep, deep down in the depths of your being, so badly wanted someone to give a shit about you in a romantic sense. You yearned for someone to hold you, someone to do cheesy shit with, someone that you could call home. 

Your sister sighs on the other end of the line. “I know you’re Miss Independent and all, but you need to learn to let go of the reins a little bit. The world won’t end if you give up an ounce of control.” 

You hated when she was right. Your sister, being a few years older than you, always had the superiority complex with I told you so’s plastered across her forehead. 

You couldn’t deny the truth, though, and the truth was you really needed to let yourself have this. Let go and unashamedly let this kind, handsome man take you out on a date. Let him sweep you off your feet. Let him treat you right, because it’d been few far and between since a man has done that for you. 

If the way you felt around him this morning was any indication that you should just relinquish control, that was it. 

“Fine. But I’m still not inviting him to your wedding.” 

And your sister laughs heartily, making you crack a small smile. 

“Right. I gotta go, but keep me updated on him!” 

“I will. Love you.” And she says it back, hanging up the phone. You sigh and stare down at your grocery list, continuing where you left off. 

Not even five minutes later, your phone buzzed again. A text from an unknown number. 

Unknown number: 

This wouldn’t happen to be the pretty stranger I met at Rosemary’s this morning, would it? ;)

You laugh at the text, biting to suppress a growing smile as you type a response. 

You: 

Depends, is this the handsome firefighter who put the number on the napkin to good use? 

You saved the number under ‘Joel’, finishing off your list before you received another text. 

Joel: 

Sure is, sweetheart. Although I wouldn’t necessarily say ‘handsome.’ Glad to know the number you gave me wasn’t fake. 

You: 

Me? Give you a fake number? Now that would just be downright stupid of me, wouldn’t it? 

Joel:

Stupid how? 

You: 

Why would I give up an opportunity to get to know a (yes, very handsome, by the way) man such as yourself? 

Joel:

You flatter me, sweetheart. I’m glad we met this morning. 

You can’t contain your smile anymore, having half a mind to drive down to the fire station to see him in person again. 

You: 

I’m glad we did too, Joel. 

Joel:

Watcha up to right now? 

You: 

Heading for the grocery store :) I need to restock a bunch of stuff. How’s your shift going? 

You double check your purse for everything you need before you stuff your grocery list and phone into your bag, grabbing your keys before locking up and heading out. 

The drive to the grocery store was only ten minutes. Emerald Eyes by Fleetwood Mac softly played through the speakers in your car, and you wondered briefly what kind of music Joel liked to listen to. You smile softly at yourself at the thought of him once more, shaking your head as the light turned green. You had to get a grip. 

And then, halfway through the intersection, a loud crash had sounded. It took you several seconds as shock and adrenaline coursed through your body that you realized you were the one who got hit. You hit your head on the driver’s side window, a throbbing pain nearly unbearable sprouting within seconds. Your car spun out, glass shattering everywhere and airbag deploying as you gripped onto the steering wheel for dear life.

“Shit shit shit!” You cry, and once your car was at a stand still, you tried your hardest to look out at the scene to decipher what happened. You know your light was green, so someone must’ve run the red. 

Other civilians pulled over and gathered around the accident, and you hoped someone was calling 911. Your vision became blurry as your head was pounding, and you groaned in pain as you tried to open the driver’s side door of your car. Your limbs felt like steel. You were shaky as you attempted to shove at your door, but you realized the door was stuck. You were trapped in your car. 

Panic started to seize your whole body until you heard the faint wail of sirens. 

Good. Someone called for help. Good. Good good good, you repeated in your head. 

The sirens started to get closer, and you heard people shouting once the firetruck, ambulance, and cops arrived on the scene. 

Joel’s seen many nasty accidents before. The most gruesome, heart wrenching things nobody should ever have to see. 

And yet, he didn’t feel panicked when he was rescuing people, being the hero everyone claims he is. But when he saw that the woman who got hit was you, he started to internally panic. He seized up at the sight of you with tears in your eyes, blood dripping down the side of your face from the cuts of shattered glass. 

“We gotta get her out of there. Tommy, hand me the jaws.” 

“Joel, we need to wait for Cap’s orders.” 

“I’ll get them myself.” Joel grits, passing by his Captain to grab the jaws. 

“Miller, what are you doing?” His Captain asks, and Joel looks at the man. 

“I know that woman in that car. Her door is stuck.” Joel’s desperate eyes trail back to your totaled car, and his Captain nods.

“Have Tommy help you.” He says, and Joel nods. Joel motions for Tommy to follow him. 

“Hey sweetheart,” You hear Joel’s voice, and you swear you’re hallucinating until you see he approaches your car in a hurry. “We’re gonna get you out, okay? I promise you’ll be out soon.” 

His voice is soothing, and a sob leaves your throat at his familiar, kind face. 

“You’re gonna hear some loud creakin’ but it’s jus’ me gettin’ the door open.” He warns, and a few seconds later you hear the loud groan of metal being pried with something sturdy. The door pops open a minute later, and Joel reaches over to unbuckle your seatbelt before lifting you out of your car. His muscles ripple beneath you even through all of his gear, careful not to jostle you too much. He didn’t know the extent of your injuries, but he was hoping they weren’t too bad. 

“Hey, you’re okay darlin.’ I got ya. Let’s let the EMT’s check you out to make sure you’re okay.” Joel places you on a stretcher while the EMT’s get to work, asking you a bunch of questions that you try to answer. You’re still a bit shaken up, but they concluded that you’d be fine. You only had a few cuts and bruises, and they cleaned up the blood swiftly. 

You were fine to walk, so Joel gently draped a blanket over your shoulders as you sat on the ambulance’s bumper. He sat down beside you and sighed as you both looked out to the other car that hit you. A police officer came up to you and asked for your information, letting you know the person who hit you was texting and driving. 

“Are they okay?” You ask the officer, and she nods. 

“They’ll be fine. You both got very lucky today.” She says, walking off to talk with the few other officers on the scene. 

“You okay?” Joel asks, and you look up at him. Worry is blatantly evident in his eyes, and it makes you melt. You just met this man hours prior and he cares about you much more than you probably deserve. 

“I’m fine. ‘S gonna fucking suck trying to find a new car, though.” You huff a laugh, and Joel grins as he stares down at his hands knotted in his lap. 

“Listen, I know we just met n’ all, but seeing you like that in your car scared the hell outta me, n’ I’d never ask a lady for permission to kiss her before the first date, but I just—”

You lay a hand on his arm, a smile on your face as you try to stop his rambling. Your sister’s words from earlier replayed themselves in your head: You need to learn to let go of the reins a little bit. The world won’t end if you give up an ounce of control.

And so you did just that. It was time you stopped worrying about the consequences of falling, because fuck did you deserve happiness. You had quite the hunch that Joel could give you just that. 

Any man that saves me from being trapped inside of a car, is a man I’ll let kiss me anyday.” Your voice is gentle as you look at him with a burning desire. 

And he does. He smiles softly and leans in, his plush lips enveloping yours in a steady, calculated motion. 

You’d be a goddamn liar if you said you didn’t feel like you were floating. You gasped softly into the kiss, and a knowing smile curled onto Joel’s lips as he pulled away in the slightest. 

“I feel it too.” And his lips are on yours again. You thread a hand through his thick locks, deepening the kiss marginally, until you hear a throat clear before you. 

“Really, Miller?” One of his coworkers said with a shit-eating grin, and a man, who’s name you think is Tommy, pipes up as well. 

“Ah, so this is the woman you’ve been talkin’ my ear off all day about. Nice to meet you darlin’, I’m Joel’s brother.” He sticks his hand out and you shake it while introducing yourself, turning to Joel after with an eyebrow raised. 

“Talking about me all day, hm?” You tease, and his cheeks burn bright red. He clears his throat and waves his hand out in front of himself, brushing you guys off. 

“Whatever.” He mumbles toward Tommy and his coworker, and they laugh as they begin to walk away. 

“It’s alright. I was talking about you today, too.” You avow to him. 

His eyebrows raise in shock. 

“To who?” He asks. 

“My sister.”

“Mm. N’ what’d she have to say?” He questions, leaning in closer to you once more. 

“She said I should give it a shot with you.” 

“Really? And what do you think about that?” A smirk makes its way onto his plush lips, and your face heats at his question. You decided to be honest with him anyway. 

“Told her I’d give it a shot.” You bite your lip to keep from smiling too hard, heart thumping in your chest as a low chuckle rumbles through his throat. 

“‘M real glad y’did, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to yours once more, butterflies raging through your whole body. Your veins are pumping with excitement and adrenaline, reveling in the man that is Joel Miller. 

Today really wasn’t like most days, but the unwavering sweetness from the handsome stranger behind you at the café truly was the start of something more than you could’ve ever wished for.  

if you want a part two, lmk!

tags: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @cool-iguana ; @tinygarbage ; @bastardmandennis ; @amanitacowboy ; @punkshort ; @pamasaur ; @nerdieforpedro ; @brittmb115 ; @joelsranchbaby ; @lovely-ateez ; @nandan11

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Being Becca and Butchers Child

Requested: Firstly HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL!!!!!! ﾟ+.ヽ(≧▽≦)ﾉ.+ﾟ. Secondly, could u write like some headcanon about being Butcher's child (like who is two years older than Ryan) and how other members from the boys (+ maybe Soldier boy, cause of season 3 and how he would interact with them :3) - anon

A/N: Thank you my love!!! In the headcanon I made reader 10+ years older so they'd be at least 18 by the time they found out about Becca and Ryan, I hope you don't mind!! That way they can be part of The Boys and grow up with them, if that makes sense? I also had a very similar request of a headcanon so I'm basing it off that so there's some background :) I love this request!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Headcanon Pt. 1 / Headcanon Pt. 2

Butcher knew he couldn't take care of you. He was getting drunk every night, picking fights at bars, searching the city for your mom. Your perfect grades were slipping, you were getting into fights at school, you were emulating him. He knew how dangerous that was. First with your Aunt, then your Great Aunt, until you tracked him down all these years later. He still has a picture of you in his wallet, a baby picture that's creased and faded. You and Becca. You've grown up since then, though. And you're angry. He insist you go back to Judy, pretend you never saw or heard what you did, but you refuse. You want to pick a fight with him. You want to yell and scream and get out eight years worth of grief. He understands where you're coming from, he does. He never wanted to be like his father and yet, in so many ways, that's exactly who he was. Your relationship will never be what it is. That's not possible anymore. You have to learn to deal with one another now, in the present, instead of the happy kid you used to be, instead of the dad he used to be. It hurts you both to think about the past, who you could have been instead of who you are.

Hughie isn't really sure what to do with you. There's no doubt you're Butcher's kid. He's still relatively new to the team, so he just assumed this was something else Butcher hadn't shared with him. When he realizes no one knew about your existence, he's shocked. You, like your father, gravitate towards Hughie for reasons you can't put into words. You'll let him sit next to you when you're watching TV and maybe even talk to him if you're in the right mood. You don't shoot daggers at him like you try with everyone else. Similar to a cat, he's someone you can stand to be around. He comes to your defense a lot, especially when you stumble in drunk and pass out for the day. He's sure if any of them had been raised by Butcher, or at least the outside relatives, they would have turned out exactly like you. He can't blame you for being angry, or pissed, or hurt. He can see the hurt better than anyone else no matter how much you try to hide it. He thinks you just need some time and empathy to get straightened out. The least they can do is offer that, right?

Annie has no idea what to do with you. She tried smiling and talking to you, but you didn't want anything to do with her. She reminds you too much of your Aunt. She always said you should be happier, bubblier, that you were so smiley as a kid. You couldn't live in the past like her, with her. Too much had changed. Hughie assures her it's nothing against her, you're just getting used to things. She thinks it's sweet how you're attracted to Hughie. He's the only one you mildly respect and even, once in a blue moon, listens to. She doesn't take it too personally considering you're ready to rip your fathers head off. It could be a lot worse. Over time you see that Annie and Hughie are together and that definitely earns her some points. Annie can't imagine what your life must have looked like, all those years mourning your mother and father, all those years spent with relatives just doing their best. She understood why you were so angry all the time, so cagey and spiky. She doesn't hold it against you.

M.M. feels conflicted. Betrayed isn't the right word, but it's the closest thing he can come up with. He never 100% trusted Butcher. He was always going behind everyone's backs, doing what he wanted despite the good of the team, etc. He was destructive, combative, and spiteful. But, he thought they knew each other better than that. When he met you he couldn't deny you were Butcher's. Your mannerisms, the crazed look in your eye when you were upset, it all matched your father. He can't help but see you like how he sees Janine, even if you're much older: a victim of Vought. A generational curse. You're stubborn, and angry, and distant all because of what's been done to you, all because of Homelander. If your mom had been around, if Homelander had never done what he'd done, you'd still have your perfect family. He feels this need to protect you the same way he does with your father, even if you both fight him on it, even if you don't want or deserve it. He can't help it.

Frenchie doesn't trust you the same way he doesn't trust your father. He especially doesn't like that you and Kimiko are so close. She doesn't tell him anything about your conversations, knowing it would completely break your trust if she did. He believes Butcher would hide something as big and important as a child. He knows what your family can be like. Lying, drunken, selfish, vengeful. You're only a few of those things, not that he can tell the difference. You know Frenchie isn't your biggest fan, so you love messing with him, teasing him, rubbing it in his face that you and Kimiko are close. Similar to your father, Frenchie thinks this isn't the kind of place for you. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. M.M. might feel fatherly towards you, but Frenchie sees you as a Mini Butcher, just another handful no one on the team can deal with. You yell and scream and fight and drink. That proves to him you're still a child despite it all.

Kimiko adores you. Despite the difference in circumstances, she sees a lot of herself in you. Ripped from your family, angry and hostile and doing everything in your power not to get hurt again. Besides Hughie, you'd warm up to her second. You're actually incredibly smart despite never applying yourself and pick up the signs pretty quickly. Whatever you can't sign, you write to her, wanting your conversations to stay secret. You show her the pictures of your mom that you kept all these years, telling her all about the good times you had before she disappeared. When you see Butcher you instantly grow hostile, angry all over again, and the person she saw, the person she was just talking to who was kind, and thoughtful, and smart totally disappears. When you blast your angry music she never minds. In fact, she quite likes it, adding it to her own playlist. She doesn't look at you like you need fixing or, worse, need to get out of here.

Bonus! Homelander always knew about you. Becca was more than willing to talk about you and Billy to co-workers. He even remembers taking that picture with you that one Christmas. He's kept an eye on you through the years, but you never seemed like the vengeful type. You never knew what happened after your father abandoned you. He does, however, use it as leverage against Becca. Remember the kid you left behind? Seems like she's got favorites. Becca agonizes over leaving you, but she was caught between a rock and a hard place. He uses you to keep her there, in her place. He gives her updates, usually to make her feel bad. You're kid drinks way too much, did you know that? Of course you didn't. He loves to tell her that Butcher abandoned you all those years ago. He loves to see that it absolutely kills her. He's not worried about you coming after him. You've got to work through your issues before you get to him and therapy for a lifetime couldn't get you an Butcher on the same page.

Bonus! Soldier Boy would actually get along with you. I think you'd have a Worst Dad Competition and though you're close, you definitely think you win. You two share a drink and you tell him all about your dear old dad. "No wonder you turned out like this." Ben says, pouring you more. Hughie urges you to slow down, but you have a high tolerance. Ben, to piss of Butcher, will always take your side in arguments and uses what you told him against him. "You dumped them off and never looked back. Now you're parenting?" Butcher absolutely hates it. You tell him about your mom, how much she loved you, how she was killed. You don't mention Ryan though, knowing Ben's go to answer would be to seek revenge. You have a lot of complicated feelings around your brother, but you still have a burning Hatred for Homelander. You make Ben promise he'll kill him. He does, even if it means killing his son. You two bond really fast. Neither Hughie nor Butcher trusts it or him, but you do.

[eggyrocks]

bruised part eighteen -> three times

m. list

♪ now playing: space song by beach house ♪

Iwaizumi almost caves three times.

1: That night. In Bokuto’s apartment.

Their position on the couch is uncomfortable and slightly awkward. A clumsy entanglement of numb limbs. She lies on top of him, delicate arm outstretched and resting on the cushion above them and her cheek flat against his chest.

He’s not even pretending to pay attention to the show that plays. His hand is lightly cupping the back of her head, dragging it down to her neck and smoothing out the frizzy ends of her hair. And he’s looking at her, completely focused on her. Enamored with her. Consumed by her. “That guy’s such a fucking dick,” she commentates on the show, voice muffled by the way her cheek is pressed into his chest. “Hope he dies.”

Iwaizumi chuckles lowly. “You can’t wish death on every single person that pisses you off.”

“Why not?” she counters. “It’s not like it’s ever worked. Oh, and by the way,” she says, lifting her head and turning to face Iwaizumi, her chin now sitting just below his neck, “those Etsy witches are scammers. You still have a full head of hair.”

He tries not to be distracted by her sudden increase in proximity or insecure about the details of his face and how well she can probably see them. Iwaizumi quirks an eyebrow at her. “And you’re mad about that?”

She makes a little humming noise of contemplation, and then raises a hand to run through the ends of his hair. Iwaizumi tenses at once, in an attempt not to react, and is hyperaware of where exactly his gaze lands, and is careful not to let it wander. “Nah, I guess not,” she decides, dropping her hand back down. He mourns the loss of it. “You look handsome as is. But I want my money back.”

Iwaizumi thinks, for a second, about reaching into his pocket and fishing whatever compensation she was looking for out of his own wallet. A form of apology for his hairline not receding.

Instead, he sort of just stares, still in awe that their closeness, on how it doesn't even seem to make her flinch. So much in awe that Iwaizumi can't even think of anything to say. She blinks at him, as if waiting for something, and he's sure, then, that he's going to kiss her.

Waiting be damned. He's waited long enough.

The universe doesn't seem to agree, though, and decides to force Iwaizumi to keep his word. Because the front door slams open, hitting the wall behind it with such a force that Iwaizumi is sure there's going to be a hole in the wall. And through it comes Bokuto and Akaashi, attached at the mouth and hands wandering. So entranced in each other they don't even seem to notice that they have witnesess.

"Well damn," she mumbles, looking past Iwaizumi to see them, "took them long enough."

Iwaizumi looks away. It feels too intimate, for him to witness. "He totally forgot you're here."

"Yeah," she agrees, and then yells out, "Oi!"

They break apart at once, Bokuto standing up proudly with a bright grin and Akaashi flushed red and unable to make eye contact. She's still in Iwaizumi's arms when she says, "Date went well?"

2: When Oikawa left, two weeks later.

He was honestly almost surprised to see how it affected her. Especially given the amount of threats she had made on his life and his face for the duration of his stay. But she had hugged him for so long and told him she didn't want him to leave and Iwaizumi could hear in her voice the way she held back tears.

She didn't hold them back on the car ride home.

"Ugh," she groaned, wiping away tears with the sleeve of her hoodie. "God, I can't believe I'm crying over fucking Oikawa Tooru."

Iwaizumi can't believe it either. It's rare to see her cry over anything. He feels oddly and uncomfortably jealous, and pretends that he does not. He pulls up in front of their apartment, feeling grateful he doesn't have to drop her off at Bokuto's now that her arm's clear of a sling, and places the car in park. "Wanna fly to Argentina?" he offers, half-joking.

She sniffles, trying to calm herself, and gives a weary smile. "Only if you're coming with me."

And fuck, it's there again. That feeling, that urge to lean in and kiss her. It hits him hard, so hard he feels momentarily dizzy. She looks at him from across the center console with big, wet eyes and god, it's all that he wants.

And then, there is a slight tremble to her lower lip, and tears begins to rapidly pool in her eyes. And before Iwaizumi has the chance to say anything else, she's crying again.

He settles for holding her. It wasn't the right time, anyways, he reasons.

3: A month later, at her gym.

"Keep your elbows up Izumi," she calls from the outside the ring, standing next to Iwaziumi with her arms crossed. Inside of the ring are two sparring thirteen-year-olds, who fight with a tenacity that almost scares Iwaizumi.

It's the same way she fought, when she was that age.

She leans in closer to Iwaizumi and whispers, "They never fucking listen to me. Good thing I'm not their goddamn coach, or anything."

"Yeah, well when you were thirteen, you punched your coach in the dick, so," Iwaizumi reminds her, grinning at the incident. He remembers it so clearly. At the time he was amazed he got to witness it, and he took the first opportunity he had to tell everyone at school about it.

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever, that dickhead totally deserved it. He was hitting on my gross mom," she insists, as if the incident isn't over ten years old at this point, and she still has to defend herself. "And he like, totally sucked as a coach. He offered me a beer for every win I got."

Iwaizumi whips his head around at this information. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, and I won a lot when I was thirteen. It was before my slump."

He scoffs. "God, no wonder you're like this. Every adult figure in your life was negligent at best."

There's a gentle elbow nudging into his side. "What the hell do you mean 'no wonder you turned out like this'? I thought you were supposed to be in love with me or something."

The reminder brings a bit of heat to his cheeks, but Iwaizumi grins either way. "Of course I'm in love with you," he says. "I was in love with you back then, too. I like that you're a little insane," he teases lightly.

And she looks up at him with this big, admiring gaze and Iwaizumi can see it, then, how much she loves him. He doesn't know how he hasn't seen it before. He can almost feel it rolling off of her in waves.

He wants to kiss her then, too. That same, overwhelming feeling. He would, if not for the two thirteen-year-olds punching each other in the face, trying to draw blood.

It happens when he thinks it won't.

Iwaizumi is getting home from work, muscles tight and eyes strained from staring at a screen for longer than he's used to.

She's in the kitchen when he gets home, and she is fighting a losing battle. The first thing he sees as he abandons his work bag on the ground and clears the threshold is her, standing in front of an oven, holding a plate of what he assumes to be brownies. But it's soupy and chunky and steams like they were just pulled from the oven.

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. "What the fuck is that?"

She groans. "I tried to make you brownies," she whines, and is quick to abandon the pan on top of the stove. "But, obviously, my skills lie elsewhere."

"Why were you trying to make me brownies?" he questions, entering further into the kitchen to try and get a better look at them. He winces. There's oily looking puddles on the surface. He would try it, just show some appreciation, but he thinks it might kill him.

She leans up against the kitchen counter and crosses her arms over her chest. "Because I'm in love with you, obviously."

And it's just something about the way she says it. So casually. So matter-of-fact. She loves him. It's plain, it's simple, it's true. She's in love with him. The same way that he's in love with her.

So really, Iwaizumi can't be blamed. He really just can't hold it back, anymore.

Iwaziumi turns from the hot mess of a dessert she tried to make for him, and faces her. And in a second, he has her face pressed gently between each of his hands. There's no time, really, for him to think about what he's doing. He just does it.

He just kisses her.

And she kisses him back.

Standing there, in their kitchen, Iwaizumi kisses her, and she kisses back, and something in his chest explodes.

-> fun facts!

only one chapter left! ahhhhh!

yachi may have walked into the kitchen shortly after this and screamed

she immediately texted her gc with oikawa and hinata

and now no one will know peace

i changed the song from hypernight to space song bc it felt more fitting

highly recommend reading while listening

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @polish-cereal @iheartamora @ferntv @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @rinheartshyunlix @causenessus @makkir0ll @cr4yolaas @k8nicole @cannibalsrider @bookworm-center @frootloopscos @ekeio @michivrse @phoenix-eclipses @hermaeusmorax @milkwithspiceyicecubes @anonnreader777 @mehreya @kmwife @rrosiitas @riousluvs @atsumou @ryeyeyer @faesix @milesmoralesluvs @bae-ashlynn @um-no-ok @kozuskitten @ncthourss @ms-downhill @bellamsby @karasyuu @k0z3me @blamemef0rit

[chrisbitchtree]

Robin was standing behind the counter at Family Video, complaining about the weather as she fanned herself with a pad of paper. Steve stood beside her, staring absently out the front window as she rambled on.

“…then it was 53° yesterday, with that crazy wind, and now today it’s 80°. I’m sweating my ass off because I have no clue how to dress! I’m sick of this. Aren’t you?”

Outwardly, Steve nodded in agreement as he picked up a stack of videos that needed to be returned to the shelves, but inwardly, he couldn’t say he was frustrated at all.

See, it was the middle of September, so it should have been consistently cooler by then. Along with the loss of summer weather, Steve had mourned the loss of Billy Hargrove’s tanned, muscled legs in shorts. But, with this up and down weather they’d been having, Steve was getting the best of both worlds, Billy in shorts some days, and others, his ass on display in the world’s tightest jeans.

Billy was a frequent presence at Family Video. Steve had no clue whether he frequented the shop before Steve and Robin started working there a few weeks back, but he can say that the other boy was there almost daily now.

As if on cue, the door to the shop opened, the bell above it jangling, and in sauntered Billy Hargrove, clad in a white t-shirt and cutoff denim shorts. They were way shorter than what was appropriate for school, but Steve definitely wasn’t complaining.

From inside his book bag, Billy produced two VHS tapes, and Steve looked over at Robin, expecting her to be at the cash to accept the return, but she was suspiciously absent from the front of the shop. He peeked into the back, but didn’t see here there either. Steve sighed, setting down the last few tapes he was holding and preparing himself for Billy’s teasing as he headed to the till.

“Hey Hargrove,” he said by way of greeting as he took the tapes from Billy’s hands, scanning the first one.

“Hey, pretty boy,” Billy replied. “I like your hair today. It’s even bigger and fluffier than usual. Was that for me?” A wolfish grin covered his face as he moved to touch it, but Steve swatted his hand away before he could.

Billy was right, Steve had taken extra time and care when doing his hair that day because he knew he’d most likely see the other boy at the shop, but he hated being called out on it, especially by Billy himself.

He wished he could just be left alone with his stupid crush until it fizzled out, but Billy kept feeding into it, and sometimes, late at night, Steve would be able to convince himself that Billy felt the same way about him, but by light of day, it was clear that he was just having a great time making Steve feel like an idiot in ways that he hadn’t been able to since Steve had graduated in May.

After Steve had processed the return, Billy took his time perusing the shelves, this time in the comedy section. With how frequently he was there, Steve figured he was going to run out of ones he wanted to watch soon, but he must have found some, because before long, he was heading back up to the front with two movies in hand.

Steve looked around for Robin, but of course she was still nowhere to be found. Where the fuck was she?

Steve scanned the new movies and told Billy his total. As Billy pulled out his wallet, he dropped it to the ground. “Oops”, he said, catching Steve’s eye for a second before turning around and bending over to grab it off the floor. For five blissful seconds, Steve had a perfect view of Billy’s ass. Sadly enough, that small window of time totally made his day.

Billy stood, paid, grabbed his movies and left, not saying anything else.

“You know he likes you too, right?” Robin asked, appearing out of thin air as the door closed behind Billy.

“Really?” Steve replied before he caught himself. “I mean, no he doesn’t. And what do you mean too? I don’t even like guys, let alone Billy Hargrove.”

Robin laughed. “First, sure, tell yourself you don’t have a massive crush on him, but I see the way you look at him, and the panic on your face every time he comes in here. You’re crushing hardcore. Second, all the teasing is just to get your attention, Dingus. He just wants to get to you, he doesn’t care how he has to do it. And those shorts, they’re not what he was wearing at school today. He changed into them just to come here. He’s down bad. So please do something about it before you drive yourself, Billy, and me insane.” With that, she grabbed a stack of returns and headed to the shelves.

Steve just stared after her, speechless. He was an expert at getting the girl, but something told him wooing Billy Hargrove was going to be a whole other ballgame. He sure hoped he was up for the challenge.

[teastyun]

some spicy Abby x reader recs ✂️

author‘s note: no gatekeeping in this household! please let me know if any of the links won’t work and if you'd like some Ellie recs

spicy ellie recs

• Fuck Me Yourself, Bitch by oh_stars_im_tired (ao3)

ᰔᩚ enemies to lovers - top!Abby, bottom!reader

↬ unresolved tension,, made me wish Abby was real UGH it’s so gut wrenchingly good (overall one of the best Abby x reader author on ao3!!)

↬ also slightly angsty but the smut makes it even

• Lead me from the dark by danicruel (ao3)

ᰔᩚ friends to lovers - top!Abby, bottom!reader

↬ after a blackout in the stadium the reader and Abby find themselves in reader‘s dorm

↬ so wholesome,, made me blush so hard

↬ girl in red references <3

↬ love the author since they include all types of readers in their fics + their writing style is *chefs kiss*

• sweet temptations by elsdolly

ᰔᩚ best friends to lovers - top!Abby, bottom!fem reader

↬ mourning turns into love aaaaaah

↬ Abby looses control and it's soo hot

surprise visit by atomicami

ᰔᩚ enemies to fuck buddies/lovers? - top!Abby, bottom!reader

↬ contractor/engineer Abby x reader as Joel's daughter 🫣

↬ both parts are soo good and the author has such a smooth writing style!! def recommend checking them out too

you-know-who by lucidfairies

ᰔᩚ (age gap) unresolved tension to finally banging lol - top!Abby, unexperienced bottom!reader

↬ reader's dad's business party and wet crush turns into reality aaaaah

↬ she's such a mommy in this one (i was thriving)

trash talk by graceheartspedro

ᰔᩚ enemies to fuck enemies (crying) - top! Abby, bottom! reader

↬ slight angsty undertone due to the angsty relationship but the hate sex *chefs kiss*

↬ part two healed my heart omg and Manny is such a mood 😦

nsfw alphabet w abby by catfern

↬ felt like an Abby dictionary and i loved every second of reading it

↬ author has such a relatable writing style!!

↬ if butter was a fanfic it would be this?? idk how to explain this hahahah

run. by publicenemy666

ᰔᩚ slasher!abby, fem! reader

↬ hear me out,, i normally dislike reading horror where spice is involved, but this was sooo interestingly plotted i couldn't stop reading it aaaaah

↬ all in all such a detailed writing style that it makes it so intriguing

and they were roommates by angelkissiies

ᰔᩚ roomates/friends to friends with benefits - top!Abby, bottom!reader

↬ my FAVOURITE trope and it hit all the spots

↬ the title made me giggle so much i instantly liked the author 😭

come over by ourautmn86

ᰔᩚ enemies to fuck buddies? - top!Abby, bottom!fem reader

↬ Y'ALL this is embarrassing but i was at point in my cycle where not only my 🐱 was shacking but my WALLET too bc this fic made me impulsively order a dildo?? 😭 i wish i was kidding but you count that as a sign that it's a very good fanfic hahaha

↬ love the author's writing style and the way the plot just smoothly evolves in their fits!!

thanks for reading &lt;3

[dimepdf]

★  𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓. + 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. the jjk men and how perverted they would be to their partner.

─── ☆ notes. sorry for being flakey i've been recovering from having Agust D tickets stolen right out of my hands (i was too late putting in my card information) so i'm pretty much in constant mourning at the moment. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | masterbation | scent kink | oral sex | facials | marking | possessiveness | manipulation(?) | sub/dom | switching | brat taming | voyeurism | exhibitionism | mentions of multiple partners | sadism | biting | rough sex | cock warming | creampie | is you see a typo simply ignore it | title inpso by this song.

★     NANAMI KENTO !

‣ He would take it to the grave, though, with the type of things he would do when he did not have your comfort: tucking his shoes to the side and tossing aside his tie after a long day at work, all those rightful morals get tossed aside as well, seeing you had left to go back to your own home, leaving the almost overbearing traces of you against his mattress and pillows.

‣ tucking his face into his bed sheets while he slowly reaches down to undo the buckle of his belt, his hand creeping under the button of his pants in search to help ease the tension that grew as his erection engulfed in him what was left of you.

‣ grunting pathetically as he stuffed his face against his pillow, fucking his fist, the thought of your body, the things you two would do under the sheets.

‣ He will do anything he needs to do to not ruin his gentlemanly persona, his thoughts about you are more tamed and docile than those of the others, who would be more open with their thoughts.

‣ but I feel like Nanami wouldn’t really show his true nature no matter how many times you poke and prod at him, taunting him sexually, he’ll always make it seem as if you are the one that always suggests something first.

‣ I feel like he's also very into seeing you cry, especially if you like light bondage, whether he’s tying your hands together with his tie or holding your wrist behind your back with his belt.

‣ But on a rare occasion, like when he’s just mentally exhausted and really craving your touch and needs a little widedown, he can't help but  be a little touchy and needy for some sense of comfort.

‣ That comfort comes in a lot of ways: cuddling, making out, handjobs, and helping his very terrible oral fixation that never fails to have you fall victim to house mouth by spreading out on top of any and every surface in his home with your thighs trembling as your knee was bent over his shoulder.

★     GOJO SATORU !

‣ This man is very shameless and vocal about the things he wants and will do to you, so shameless that you have to apologize to anyone within a hearing radius.

‣ He literally does not care and does not have an ounce of decorum in his body.

‣ No matter how much he teases you for being "obsessed," you both know damn well how overly possessive he is over you and your body. There is never a time your two are in the same room and he doesn't have his hands all over you.

‣ The problem is that he isn't ashamed of talking about the things he wants to do with you to literally any poor victim willing to listen; he had the dedicated photo album full of saved selfies and pictures and the very lewd picture of you in lingerie tucked in his wallet, ready to be pulled out at any unfortunate time.

‣ The more you two get comfortable and closer, I feel like he will get more whiny and needy for your physical contact and attention, touching and kissing all over you in public.

‣  Kissing all over you, including the multiple items he would spoil you with, ranging from expensive lingerie in his favorite color to little trinkets that remind him of you. His favorite thing to do is buy you clothes and have you try them on in front of him.

‣  He just cannot keep his hands to himself, especially when you look so good in the sexy suit he bought from Victoria Secret that just complimented your boobs so much. It shouldn't be a surprise that it only takes him a glance before he’s tugging your panties to the side and fucking you against the wall.

★     TOJI FUSHIGURO !

‣ Another shameless man who does not give a fuck where he is or who’s around; when he wants you, he wants you.

‣ Definitely more subtle compared to Gojo (which isn't saying much).

‣ He’s just a major tits guy and loves when you post selfies with cleavage just to screenshot for his gallery and zoom in on your chest.

‣ If you happen to be in his company, rather than lounging around cuddling, his hands will at some point end up under your shirt, fondling your chest and pinching your nipples, using your boobs like a personal stress ball, and if he's not doing that, his head is tucked under your shirt, sucking hickies on them as if it were some normal occurrence.

‣ There’s no normal moment when you're dating Toji; this man knows he can act upon his lewd desires and will tuck your panties in his back pocket after sex as if they were some type of award for making you finish twice.

‣  He’s a man with artistic ability; that being said, he likes how you look covered in his cum; rather, it's all over your face, boobs, buttocks, and stomach. You better believe he’s pulling out and painting all over you.

‣ will get a little whiny whenever you try to clean yourself off, but it's fine because the moment you get out of the shower, he’s tapping you in for another round (rest in peace your ability to walk straight).

 ‣ He does not have a single shameless bone in his body; in fact, he loves it when you catch him doing something pervy; he only gets more excited.

‣ Rather its jerking off with your underwear and possibly grunting out your name knowing you're a step away, the moment that door swings open, he’s holding eye contact and fucking his fist.

‣ As much as people assume Toji to be some hard dom I feel like he does have a bit of a bratty side, and it does not help that he can get super petty, especially if he doesn't get what he wants. Oh, lord, that man will teasingly taunt like there's no tomorrow.

‣ And the worst part is that he does it as if he isn't the one practically whining for you to touch him.

‣ Don't even bother trying to get payback, whether it's trying to get him winded up with a cute lewd text or sending a sext picture of yourself, he will hit back ten times as hard and even make you drag it out until he’s the one with the upper hand.  

★     GETO SUGURU !

‣ okay… So I know what I said about Gojo being the most perverted, but I think that Geto might sometimes give him a run for his money.

‣ He's got the shameless thing all checked, in fact, he's so shameless that he makes you feel embarrassed and flustered, as if you're the one at fault.

‣ He is the same with Toji, he doesn't care who’s near doesn't matter he has his hands all over you, taunting and teasing you right in front of his friends he does not give a single care.

‣ He loves getting you all flustered in public, no matter who’s listening, he will straight out ask you to touch him whenever he feels like it.

‣ He loves the thought of you coming undone with an audience watching how much he can please you, a possessive sense of pride waving over him as he fucks you in front of everyone, telling them exactly who you belong to as you moan out his name. As long as you keep your eyes on him, there won't be a problem.

‣ frames lewd pictures of you, I’m not even kidding.

‣ I feel like he would have one of those huge portraits of you modeled in fancy lingerie hung like art in his living room, or small portraits of you in his bedroom.

‣ When you first noticed them, he just sort of smirked as you tried to tell him off.

★     SUKUNA RYOMEN !

‣ Oh brother, this dude gets grimy with it. 

‣ He’s got a major god complex, so it shouldn't come as much of a surprise that he doesn't see that what he’s doing is perverted, downright bad, to the point where he calls you a pervert for still liking him knowing the type of shit he’s into.

‣ Is a panty sniffing, dick stepping, fucking in public or even while his friends watch, watching you shower, jacking off while laying next to you, type of freak.

‣ Let's step back and backtrack on that friend thing. To everyone's surprise, Sukuna loves sharing, so much so that he’s into watching you get passed around by his friends.

‣ Practically invented voyeurism, loves the look on your face while you're getting railed, but only while you hold eye contact with him and moan his name while you're with some other dude.

‣ Sure he’s possessive, but in cocky way. 

‣ He knows he’s better than any other man you’ll ever be with, he’s the best thing that has ever graced your silly little pitbull life, so no matter how many times you complain about some sad pitful fuck, he knows it’ll never beat the multiple times he’d leave you trembling from just his mouth.

‣ He’s a huge tease with his tongue and long fingers, you’d have to be in tears and whimpering out his name before he'd consider pulling his dick out and fucking you.

‣ Is very huge on crying, whether it's from overstimulation or you just being overwhelmed from being angry at him. Just know the little devils on both sides of his shoulders are practically barking at him to bend you over and fuck you when the tears start spilling. 

‣ He’s a mean fucking, hair tugging, biting, leaving bruises, slapping, degrading—you could name anything that inflicts some sort of pain, and Sukuna has already tried it.

‣ But on the very rare occasion when he allows you too to take just a bit of charge, his desperate side does get a chance to shine out more, begging for you to let him cum in you, begging for you to give him orders.

‣ Sex will always end with you feeling like some type of jelly-filled doughnut (I'm so sorry), and he refuses to cum anywhere else but inside of you, let alone let you move from his grasp when he’s done. Best believe you’re keeping his cock warm for the rest of the night.

🔖 @souljagrldotcom / @m0mmym1lk3r-png / @toji-dabi-wife / @dilfs-lover / @venussakura / @emery-333 / @unheolybakugo / @dunixxd / @taeecups / @songbirdgardensworld / @celi-xxmoon / @s-witch-bitch / @chloee0x0 / @kawatabae / @haitaniwhor3 / @pluzo / @hey-gurls69 / @momoewn / @sheluvzeren / @kogoshidied / @sacvh / @disaster-rose / @hoohoohope / @pidwidge / @jadeisthirsting / @cjm-cookiethief / @zuuki / @tojishugetiddies / @rumi-rants / @justanotherkpopstanlol / @awkwardaardvarkforever / @lexiinanime / @melty-kisses / @kageyama-i-want-tobiors / @kiyomeichann / @wenumsmol / @unholybabyface / @namidaass / @princesstiti14 / @watyousayin / @laylasbunbunny / @crissteetee / @ziggy-09 / @angel-luv-04 / @anotherlovelyruin / @p-rizz-ha / @lone-poltergeist / @mimixrx2 / @t4naiis

tap here to be added to taglist.

[the-ace-with-spades]

I need a fic where Ghost and Soap are on the run but like, framed and on the run.

They're on an assignment, just the two of them, to co-lead a team for the prevention of assassination for some big-name politician (dunno, I like to think this would happen either in usa or in the uk...) and it's all done and they're about to pack their shit and go back to base when Soap gets an encrypted call from Price to tell him that a video of Ghost killing the same big-name politician is on the telly

It's not Ghost, obviously, but it's someone of Ghost's posture, in Ghost's gear and Ghost's mask.

Also obviously, Soap doesn't believe it.

They get surrounded pretty fast by the local SWAT-like team and Soap makes Ghost use him as a hostage so they can escape with a minimal amount of maiming -- Soap is pretty sure Ghost could escape on his own, but it'd be a bloody mess that would follow him after he was proven to be framed.

Of course, Ghost tries to get Soap to leave once they're out of the danger zone. He does not.

Cue Ghost and Soap on the run while Price, Gaz and Lasewell try to find out who is framing him.

Simon's existence was erased so much that there are no pictures of him anywhere so instead, his APB has a sketch and a description. Problem is, the scars on his face were included, and way too characteristic to miss them (whether it's the glasgow smile or other scars, dunno, but you get my point). At first, it's really hard to move around because scars/mask + Simon being like 6'4 and built like a tank scream 'notice me'. Simon grows out a beard - it's red-ish blond colour so he ends up dying his hair red too. He absolutely doesn't care but Soap mourns because he's barely started being able to see Simon's face and hair and now it's all changed up.

Soap doesn't have an APB at first, but after a couple of days he is named as complicit (because he's seen helping Ghost run) and his photo is out. He has to shave the mohawk because it's too eye-catching (he's fucking bald and he hates it). He has to rein in his accent because he is described as glasgowian scottish. He can't call his maw so he sends her a random postcard he picked up a few towns ago and sends a short and cryptic message, hoping she believes he's not a terrorist.

Soap also finds out Ghost knows way too many shady people and knows way too easily where to look for even more shady people if he needs something the former people don't have. They steal shit out of necessity, often clothes and food, but sometimes they pickpocket cards and wallets. Some days they sleep in the car, some days they stop at questionable motels or hostels, and some days they don't sleep at all. They have burner phones but don't contact Price at all.

There would be a mandatory 'taking care of each others' wounds' scene (no bandages, please, you rarely use bandages in healthcare nowadays) after a dangerous run-in, a mandatory 'pretend to be a couple to lose the trail' and after that, an awkward 'there was only one bed' scene where things happen for the first time and they have a sloppy handjob or two.

They're probably trying to escape the country but can't do it via air because of the APBs and have to make their way to some shady port and even shadier ferry or cargo ship that won't run their fake passports in the system if they pay well enough.

Ghost is surprising Soap once again with an off-shore bank account and a knowledge of whichever country they're in's language. They move somewhere less crowded but not small enough that two Brits would be weird. Some people refer to Ghost as Soap's husband.

Weeks or months go by.

"What if they can't prove I didn't do it?"

"You faked your death once, love, I think you can do it twice."

[khaire-traveler]

⚰️ Subtle Thanatos Worship 🪦

Honor your ancestors/loved ones that have passed on; learn about your family history

Bake with poppy seeds

Visit cemeteries; leave flowers on graves (if given permission!!! Ask first!!!)

Support suicide prevention, humanitarian, or homeless organizations

Have a candle that reminds you of him (no altar needed)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of him

Have imagery of butterflies, flowers, torches, or wings around (wings and butterflies are especially good for a Christian household)

Have a stuffed animal butterfly, snake, or bird

Keep a picture of him in your wallet

Drink a relaxing tea; drink black tea or coffee

Collect animal bones (thank the animal's spirit; I find that respectful)

Start a flower garden; grow calming herbs; tend to plants

Ground yourself frequently within nature

Take care of yourself physically and emotionally

Take a soothing bath or shower

Reflect on your beliefs of the afterlife; become comfortable with the subject of death

Become comfortable with change; take new risks, try new things, accept difficult changes

Create a bedtime routine

Engage in self-care often

Exercise; take care of your physical body

Volunteer at a homeless shelter; help out your fellow humans

Cook a warm meal for someone in need

Engage with media that invokes a sense of comfort; engage with childhood media

Do activities that relax you

Get comfortable with the idea of rest; rest can be productive

Be gentle with yourself; go at your own pace

Spend time with loved ones and pets

Make a list of simple joys in life; focus on the good parts of your day at the end of it

Allow yourself to feel your feelings

Allow yourself to mourn over difficult changes or the end of relationships; allow yourself to miss people

Take a walk/hike in nature; visit a forest or nature preserve

Practice patience and going with the flow

Make a list of things you're looking forward to at the end of the day

Keep a diary where you can vent your feelings while also talking about things that bring you joy; focus on both positive and negative

Make a bucket-list; what things do you want to try at least once in your life?

Collect coins with the intention of allowing souls who need payment for the river Styx to use them if needed

Have compassion towards yourself; forgive your past mistakes

-

I'll likely add more to this list! This is a list of discreet ways to worship Thanatos. Take care, everyone! I hope this is helpful. 🩵

Link to my Subtle Worship Master list

[lilacgyuvin]

star — p. gunwook

pairing: gunwook x gn!reader

synopsis: gunwook unfortunately loses his wallet. luckily for him, a good samaritan is kind enough to trace the address on his i.d. and brings it straight to his doorstep! too bad it’s his newly ex-best friend (post-dramatic confession of love).

word count: 3.6k

warnings: highschool!au, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, BARELY proofread, jealous gunwookie, talks of falling out, misunderstandings, miscommunication, feat. seniors hanbin and seunghan (and eunseok), not to be taken serious this is just fiction!!

a/n: needed a break from writing that tattoo artist jiwoong au so i wrote this 🥸

Gunwook’ s lost his wallet.

It’s no big deal! It’s not like his whole life is in there or anything: his money, I.D., credit and debit card, along with his ultra rare Twicecoaster Lane 1 devil Nayeon photocard— yeah, he’d be fine without them.

He only realizes when he get’s on the train home from school, reaching for the photocard for emotional support after the shit week he’s had until he realizes it’s in his wallet which definitely isn’t in any of his pockets right now.

He finally lets out what he thinks is a quiet ‘fuck!’ after patting his pockets down and emptying out his backpack for the third time, which ends up not being as quiet as he originally thought, if the looks from the elderly couple sat across from him are anything to go by.

A few hours go by, and he’s still mourning the loss of devil Nayeon— oh, and all that other stuff too, he guesses. To get his mind off of things, Gunwook thinks a game of Fortnite with his loving friends would do the trick. It’s twenty minutes after when their entire squad gets wiped out (and proceed to get emoted on) is when he retracts that whole idea.

“I’m positive those guys were like, ten year olds. Do you know how embarrassing that is?!” Hanbin’s voice comes from Gunwook’s headset, meshing with the groans of Eunseok and the laughter of Seunghan on the other ends of the call.

“Obviously, it just happened to us! And the audacity. of Gyuvin to leave when he’s the reason we lost. His aim is so fucking ass,” Eunseok speaks loud and fast into his mic, making Gunwook wince at the volume. He seriously needs to start putting his volume down as soon as Eunseok joins. “Why do we still play with him? No, seriously someone answer me, why do we still play with him? Can we replace him with Y/n? Matter fact, I’m calling them right now I can’t do this.”

Seunghan’s laughter comes to a halt the minute their name is mentioned, just like Gunwook’s breathing for a split second.

“Eunseok.” Seunghan says his name and it sounds like Eunseok’s movements come to a stop, the only sound being that of the classic lobby music and the occasional Ps4 notification.

“... Does Gyuvin not have shit aim? I mean, we all saw that.” he says, and Hanbin then decides it’s his turn to speak up. “Maybe don’t talk about Y/n right now.”

It’s only now that Gunwook realizes he hadn’t told Eunseok about the whole ordeal this entire time, and it’s evident in the way he gasps from the other end of the call. “Y/n?! The fuck happened with Y/n? Oh my God please don’t tell me I have to cut them off they’re so fun. Speaking of, we have plans next week on Thursday to this new—”

“Eunseok seriously shut the fuck up.”

“ ‘Kay I’m gonna go heat up my hot pockets.”

Gunwook feels bad since he’s kind of the reason why Eunseok got cursed out by Seunghan. He’ll make it up to him after the upcoming, full on expected pep talk from Hanbin.

“You two still aren’t talking?” he asks the same time Eunseok logs off, and Gunwook thinks that maybe he too can escape this if he leaves without a second thought. He then realizes that Hanbin can literally just call him after he leaves, so he decides to dish it out and get it over with, mumbling his next words. “Well they’re not talking to me.”

It sounds childish, but he wasn’t lying! “The phone works both ways, Gunwook.” he sighs, the sounds of him readjusting in his seat being heard before he’s continuing, “Was it that embarrassing?”

Gunwook forgets that he didn’t explain the extent of the situation to his senior, so it isn’t entirely Hanbin’s fault that he thinks that Gunwook is simply embarrassed, but he can’t help the groan that follows anyway. “It’s not just that. It’s- I can’t even say.”

It’s nothing personal, really— everyone knows that Sunghoon and Y/n used to go out (for a mere 5 months, so Gunwook doesn’t even care for real!). What people didn’t know was how they swore to Gunwook that they’d never get back with him, not even for a second, so when Gunwook finally realizes the feelings he has for his best friend and decides to do something about them (queue chocolates and flowers at the end of the school day), the last thing he expects to see is Y/n and fucking Sunghoon, holding each other in a warm hug, like they’d shrivel up and die if they were to part.

Gunwook wished that had happened to him when he walks into the empty classroom, the wrapping from the flower arrangement in his hands startling the two out of their tight embrace. They looked like a pair of deer caught in headlights, frozen in place as they watch Gunwook’s word die on his tongue, mouth agape as he tries to restore them.

“Sorry. Bad time.” it’s the only coherent thing he can manage to say before he’s making a beeline for the door, too embarrassed and upset to verbalize the rest of his thoughts. Never getting back together, huh? Gunwook’s feeling a lot of things in this current moment, but the one that sticks out the most is how utterly stupid he feels. It’s so intense it almost drives him to anger, but he’s on the train home before it can get to that point, free from the fear of them running after him.

He isn’t particularly proud of what he does when they text him almost immediately after the whole ordeal, only responding after he gets home.

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: omg i’m so sorry i totally forgot you asked to meet up

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: we were just talking

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: did you still wanna talk? where’d you go??

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: gunwook??

You:

sorry i had to rush home

You:

its fine tho lol

You:

i was just gonna ask your opinion on

the flowers i got

You:

they’re for eunchae

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: oh

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: i didn’t know you liked eunchae?

You:

yup

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: okay well then yeah they’re really pretty

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: she’ll really like them

You:

thanks 🙌

Okay don’t look at him like that. He had to save face! He feels bad as soon as he spews the lie out, but then he remembers the way his heart dropped to his ass at the sight of Y/n and Sunghoon hugging, and convinces himself that maybe this was for the best.

What Gunwook doesn’t expect are the two weeks that follow. To describe them in two words: extremely awkward. The following morning, instead of the two taking the train together like they normally do, Gunwook makes up some lame excuse about being late and ends up taking the longer way. They talk during the classes they have together, but it’s all stiff and feels uncomfortable, despite anyone saying anything about it. Going home is the same as the morning was, yet this time it was Y/n who couldn’t make it, saying they had to visit a relative after school.

It was always easy for the two to tell whenever the other was lying, but Gunwook wants to give them the benefit of the doubt, seeing as he wasn’t so truthful himself just recently. When the two do arrive home, there are no texts exchanged or calls that go on for hours on end like usual, and it makes Gunwook uneasy, but the feeling of being rejected without actually being rejected was more prominent in that moment, so he left it alone.

He didn’t know that the lack of communication on both ends would lead to them not talking at all, though! It didn’t help that he’d see them talking with Sunghoon again in the hallway only two days later, rubbing a reassuring hand along their arm, which then prompts him to talk with Eunchae during the period he knows he shares with Y/n. That day is what really set the tone for the rest of the week, he thinks; no calls or texts, passing each other through the hallways, and going home together came to a dead end. All the little things that made Gunwook not absolutely hate school were taken away from him, and he feels it’s partially his fault which made it suck even more.

It took his friends, including his seniors, only two days to realize that something was wrong, which is what’s prompted Hanbin to lecture him every chance he gets for the past two weeks.

“Well maybe you should text them anyway. I bet they miss you just as much as you miss them, right Seunghan?”

There’s absolutely no way Seunghan was listening in, seeing as he doesn’t answer til five seconds later when Hanbin clears his throat. “Oh! Yes, definitely.”

“What are you even here for.”

“Emotional support? I don’t know man, I just wanted to play Fortnite.”

“Seunghan.”

Seunghan whines at the disapproving tone of Hanbin’s voice, not sure how he got roped into being scolded alongside Gunwook. Hanbin’s just that good, he guesses.

“Ugh okay fine. Not gonna lie Gunwook, seeing you two not talking is really depressing, for all of us, and honestly super unsettling. Just tell them how you feel and maybe don’t lie to your crush about having a crush who isn’t actually your crush. How’d I do Hanbin?”

“Absolutely terrible. Please log off.”

Before Seunghan can defend himself against what Hanbin identifies as Useless Senior Syndrome™, there’s a steady knock coming from the front door, successfully getting Gunwook out of the lecturing. “Thanks guys, but I have to go.”

The two can barely bid their goodbyes before Gunwook is logging off, scurrying down the steps as the knocking increases in speed.

“I’m coming!” he half-screams. He knows it isn’t his mom because she always has her keys, so it’s okay that he raised his voice a bit. He honestly thinks it’s Yujin from next door, most likely wanting to borrow Gunwook’s switch again after he miraculously submerged his own into water. He swears to God if he doesn’t return it back on time again—

Oh. This isn’t Yujin.

What stood in front of him held waves of familiarity: one being the navy blue leather-skinned wallet he’d gotten gifted by a relative a while back, the one that’s been home to his ultra rare Twicecoaster Lane 1 devil Nayeon photocard for years now— and the other being the person he’s gotten to know over the past seven years, who’s favorite foods he’s mastered and whose voice he can point out in a room full of thousands. The one who sits through the same old episodes of ‘Haikyuu!!’ with him, despite already seeing them multiple times. His best friend, who he hasn’t talked to in over two weeks, over his own fears and insecurities, is now at his front doorstep with his wallet in their hand, face unreadable to Gunwook for the first time since they’ve met.

“You forgot your wallet in Ms. Chwe’s class.”

Ms.Chwe’s class; the last period that they share with each other, where he was too busy trying to avoid Y/n’s gaze so in turn chatted up anyone who’d listen, not paying enough attention to the wallet that was falling out of his front pocket. Gunwook can’t even feel relieved that his most prized possession is safe, nor can he think of a way to make it anyone else’s fault at the moment given that his (ex?) best friend, who he hasn’t even glanced at in 14 days, is standing at his door with it in hand.

‘What am I supposed to even say?’ The silence that follows after still isn’t as embarrassing as that cursed Wednesday two weeks ago, so he tried to avoid saying anything that may exceed that level. “Thanks… okay bye.”

Okay what the fuck was that. He almost slams his head against the door, but he thankfully doesn’t have to dwell on it for too long, as they’re speaking before he knows it.

“You seriously don’t wanna talk about this?” They say, and Gunwook doesn’t know why it shocks him— they’d always been the confrontational type when needed.

“What do you wanna talk about?” He thinks it’s a pretty valid question, given that they could be referring to multiple things, but Y/n apparently doesn’t think so, if the roll of their eyes were anything to go by.

“You can’t be serious. About how you’ve been ignoring me for the longest!”

“Wha- only because you’ve been ignoring me!”

“That’s what most people do when someone’s been ignoring them first, dumbass.”

Gunwook huffs, he almost forgot how stubborn the both of them could be. “This is going nowhere. Just- come inside.” He gives up, decides to be the bigger person and let them in, not wanting their first interaction in so long to be an argument outside his door. Also because Yujin can be quite the creep and likes to instigate arguments from his bedroom window (he knows this because they’ve done it together).

They make themselves comfortable on the couch best associated with movie nights and hot cocoa during winter break, sitting on opposite ends. The air feels stale, and Gunwook feels like he has to say something before he can let the silence linger any longer. “D’you want some wate-”

“What did I do to you?” he’s cut off, the voice quieter prior to it outside. They turn to face Gunwook with hands gripping both knees reassuringly and— are they crying? “I mean, I’ve been trying to figure it out for so long, but I can't think of anything. Was it the flowers? Did she not like them?”

Gunwook wants to wipe off the face of the Earth. Not only were they crying, but they were kind enough to consider the feelings of others while nursing their own, successfully breaking his heart, while also making him feel unfathomably shitty.

He’s by their side in less than a second, not quite sure what to do with his hands as he lets out a stream of ‘no no no’ and ‘please don’t cry’. They won’t even look at him this time either, opting out to facing the wall in front of them instead. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/n.”

“Then why won’t you talk to me?”

Gunwook sighs, finally deciding to rest his hands on his thighs. “I’m going to tell you, but you have to tell me why you were too, okay?” He asks and they nod almost immediately. “And you can’t laugh either. Seriously, I will kick you out.”

“I’ll walk out myself if you don’t spit it out already.” They attempt to say it threateningly, but they’re pouting and Gunwook hates how cute he finds it, considering their current circumstances.

“Okay I was getting there,” He can’t help the snark remark, and he half blames it on the fact that he’s about to do the thing that he never got to two weeks ago: confess his undying love for his best friend of over seven years to said best friend. Folding his hands atop his legs, Gunwook takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a split second before opening them as he exhales.

“Those flowers weren’t for anyone but you.” He’s not facing them, he absolutely cannot right now, instead focusing his gaze on his now sweaty hands, but he still hears the hitch in their breathing— it’s as clear as day. “I was going to give them to you, tell you about my feelings, but then I saw you with fucking Sunghoon, and I- I don’t know. I just felt so embarrassed and stupid and angry, so I came up with that stupid lie,” He finally finds the courage to face them, looking up to find their eyes already on him. “I’m sorry.”

Silence follows, and Gunwook fully expects it, but fuck was it agonizing. His face is practically on fire and he doesn’t want to break eye contact because he wants to ‘assert male dominance’ or whatever the hell Eunseok was going on about that one time he gave advice absolutely no one asked for, but it’s getting harder as the seconds go by and he just might explode right where he sits.

“Gunwook. You’re not gonna believe this but I was talking to Sunghoon about you,” Oh thank God they broke the silence— but what did they say? “I wanted to know if it’d make things weird between you and him if I asked you out or something, since you two are on the same dance team. I was also asking for advice on how to do it, since I’ve never asked anyone out before. I was going to the day after, but then you said you wanted to confess to Eunchae and I got really upset, I didn’t want to see your face at all.”

It’s now Gunwook’s turn to stare in silence, his previous anxious feeling replaced with one that screamed ‘what the fuck is happening I can’t believe this is happening right now’.

“What.” It’s all he can manage to say at the moment— if he felt stupid before, it’s definitely hitting harder this time around. He was avoiding his crush (who also has a crush on him, apparently?!), his best friend, all over nothing. His cheeks are becoming hot again and he feels like crying.

In classic Gunwook fashion, he does the most rational thing he can think of at the moment and bows his head beside their lap, clasping his hands in front of it as he lets out streams of ‘I’m sorry’, catching them completely off guard.

“Get up! It’s fine Gunwook, seriously." They reassure him, but he doesn’t dare get up from his position, only raising his head ever so slightly. “You still like me? Even though I lied to you and made you cry?”

They seem to find humor in his current predicament, giggling as they move a hand to pat his head. “I shed one tear. And dude, I lied too. I’m sorry as well, I was just scared.” It’s said with earnest, and Gunwook can feel it through their gaze once he finally gains the courage to lift himself up, his confidence fully restored. “Okay if we’re gonna date, you cannot call me dude anymore.”

“Is this you asking me out for real this time?” A hint of amusement makes its way onto their face, lolling their head to the side as they ask.”

“Yes. Wait no.” The switch up visibly confuses them, even more so when Gunwook gets up from his seat, instructing them to ‘wait here’ as he runs to the kitchen, coming back with a single flower. “My mom wouldn’t let them go to waste. They’re in a vase and she’ll kill me if I take all of them.”

They laugh, both because Gunwook was so so sweet and because his mom really would kill him. “Will you go out with me?” He knows it’s short, but he could tell them all the things he likes about them over takeout, and he really wants to kiss them right now.

“That was lackluster,” They say as they snatch the flower from their hands, but their actions are words are laced with playfulness, and they contradict themselves when they move to embrace him in a warm hug. “But yes, since you asked so nicely.”

Gunwook almost shoves them away if it weren’t for how intimate the current moment was. He’s glad they can still play around after spending so much time apart from each other. “Shut up! I just wanted to kiss you already. Wait, would that be weird?”

They look up, contemplating it for a second before they look back at him with a shrug. “I don’t know, but you can give me a kiss on the cheek. The one that isn’t wet.”

He takes takes that as a win, holding their damp cheek in favor of landing a peck on the opposite. Then another on their forehead. And another on the same cheek, but in a different place. It soon turns to him showering them with kisses all over, causing them to fall back on the cushions as they begin to laugh, taking Gunwook down with them as he refuses to stop. “Gunwook! I said one!”

He doesn’t even have the mind to grace them with an answer as he joins them in laughter, too overjoyed and buoyant with that fact that he’s now free from many things; free from hiding his feelings, from his insecurities now that their feelings were laid bare and are mutual, and free from pretending that he was okay letting his best friend falls into the hands of another. He no longer has to worry about any of that though, as they’re right where he wants them, where he deems perfect.

The cafeteria is booming as always, Gunwook and his friends (seniors and same-age mates alike) already seated at their table as they await the arrival of a few others. None of them say anything about the way Gunwook and Y/n are holding hands under the table, but there are definitely shared glances exchanged between Hanbin and Seunghan.

It’s only been two days since Gunwook’s actual successful confession, and they still have yet to say it outright, so they’ve just decided to let everyone come to their own conclusions. He thinks they’re on the right track though, with the way they shot him a thumbs up from across the table.

“Y/n!” It’s yelled from behind them, making the entire table, if not the whole cafeteria turn their heads to the source of the noise. Gunwook wishes he could say he was surprised as to who it was.

Eunseok practically tackles Y/n with the force in which he runs to their side, engulfing them in a hug from behind. “I thought I was gonna lose you! Don’t tell Gunwook, but you’ve always been my favorite junior.”

“I’m right here.”

“Shut up dont ruin this for me.”

a/n: we all know gunwook would be a communication king but i wanted to write this anyway. and guys i promise i can write things other than love confessions gimme like two weeks!!! also recs are open likes + reblogs are always appreciated ty baii