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pesterloglog · 4 months

Text

Roxy Lalonde, John Egbert, Harry Anderson Egbert

Candy, page 38

ROXY: sup john

ROXY: long time no see

ROXY: well alright then pal

ROXY: i do believe u know the way to the living room

JOHN: yeah, yep.

JOHN: thanks.

JOHN: sorry for staring like an idiot.

JOHN: it’s...

JOHN: i just got done with a whole week of feeling weird about hanging out in my dad’s old house again.

JOHN: I kind of forgot to think about how it would be surreal coming back here, too.

JOHN: some kind of nostalgia whiplash, i guess.

ROXY: fair enough yo

ROXY: harry andersons out if u were wonderin

ROXY: hell scoot back home later so if you make it thru round 1 of awkward ex-family convos im happy to say you can be rewarded with another

JOHN: oh, cool.

JOHN: i’d like to see him, if…

JOHN: if it’s okay with both of you.

ROXY: ya we chatted bout it

ROXY: but like i said

ROXY: one thing at a time

ROXY: lets me n u tear this ol egbert/lalonde estrangement band-aid right the fuck off n see what we got goin on underneath it

JOHN: sounds like a plan.

JOHN: so, uh.

JOHN: i’ve been doing a lot of thinking recently.

JOHN: and i’ve realized some things.

JOHN: some stuff that involves you and some that doesn’t, but all things i think you deserve to know.

JOHN: whew.

JOHN: ok lemme think where to start...

JOHN: you know how jake left jane?

JOHN: i mean, i assume you know.

JOHN: though, uh, no offense, but jane’s version might be...

JOHN: skewed.

ROXY: oh lmao nah i didnt hear it from janey

ROXY: harry anderson filled me in on wat he got thru the teen grapevine

JOHN: oh!

JOHN: are you guys not...

JOHN: nevermind.

JOHN: i’m sorry, i came to apologize for my shit, not pry into your business.

JOHN: we don’t have to talk about jane if you don’t want to.

ROXY: janey n me havent been super tight of late

JOHN: ah.

JOHN: what about politics not coming between friends and all that?

ROXY: lmao well turns out sometimes someones politics make it p clear what kind of friends they value

ROXY: or dont

ROXY: and idk sometimes people you used to like when you were a teen grow up to be assholes or w/e!!

ROXY: i think i was clingin to somethin just to prove to myself that i was doin stuff right

ROXY: ol rolal

ROXY: hella normal

ROXY: v good at sticking with friends

ROXY: the more i thought abt it the more i figured holdin on to that one thing made me lose out on some other shit

ROXY: u might relate

JOHN: haha, you got me there i guess.

ROXY: anyways

ROXY: im not tryna take up all ur big speech time w/ my stuff

ROXY: you were tellin me about how jake n janey finally went splitsways and how it gave you some kind of epiphany

JOHN: no, it’s cool!

JOHN: i’m glad to hear it.

JOHN: we can come back to your shit after my shit, maybe.

JOHN: but yeah, jake, he uh...

JOHN: he and tavros are living with me now.

JOHN: i think for the foreseeable future. we were expecting jane to have kind of a fit about it, but all we’ve gotten so far are some divorce papers.

JOHN: if she knows where jake is and she hasn’t had a drone fleet dispatched to nuke my house off the planet i think that’s a good sign she’s actually just letting them go?

JOHN: which is kind of surprising, but, uh. good, i guess.

ROXY: ok ill b the first 2 admit that janes turned into kind of a jerk lately but u no shes not actually like

ROXY: literally evil

ROXY: lol

JOHN: that’s debatable!

ROXY: sry to disappoint but janes just a person and you cant actually blame her for everything that went wrong in our marriage like i was her helpless thrall or somethin

JOHN: that’s not what i was saying...

ROXY: ok neither of us came here to argue about janey did we

JOHN: you’re right. let’s just not talk about her.

ROXY: yea

JOHN: anyway...

JOHN: i’ve been doing a lot of thinking about how things got to be like they are.

JOHN: i guess i’ll just come out and say it.

JOHN: i completed fucked up your entire life.

JOHN: i’m not going to pretend like there are two sides here. it’s my bad, totally.

JOHN: like, not just what happened to our marriage, though it’s also true that that’s completely my fault.

JOHN: but even before that...

JOHN: i think i fucked up on just this massive, fundamental level, and it’s what i did—

JOHN: or, well, what i didn’t do—

JOHN: that caused every stupid bullshit thing about the way this world is.

JOHN: none of this was supposed to be this way.

JOHN: honestly, it doesn’t feel right that we got married at all, does it?

JOHN: your life was heading in this whole other direction with callie, and i just...

JOHN: i dunno. i just kind of took that from you.

JOHN: i think i ended up taking a lot of decisions from a lot of people.

JOHN: everything took a backseat to what i wanted.

JOHN: whatever cosmic significance the lives here do or don’t have, all the pointless suffering i’ve created is... inhumane. and—

ROXY: oh nah ill stop u rite there my man

ROXY: im sorry john ilu but this is some hot steamin horseshit

JOHN: what?!

ROXY: its some real jerkoff emoji stuff is all im sayin!!

ROXY: you think you choice mattered so much that no one elses could measure up?

ROXY: n then what

ROXY: did u get what u wanted?

ROXY: did your life end and the points got tallied and you came out on top or like what?

ROXY: still p much seems like were movin to me

ROXY: and you sure dont seem like ur winnin so wheres all this good shit you got that you gotta go around handin out apologies for?

ROXY: also damn dude while were at it!!

ROXY: u forgot to actually say sorry in that apology!

JOHN: no, i didn’t — i just meant...

JOHN: i’m sorry for fucking up your life, or making it not—

ROXY: i like my life!!!

ROXY: i mean it aint perf and i got my share of fuckups n mistakes in there but you dont get to tell me its fucked up

ROXY: or that it isnt real or somethin

ROXY: its mine!

ROXY: i mean i felt... somethin i guess

ROXY: but its not just you

ROXY: youve never been the only player in this game u kno

ROXY: do u not remember who all was there when this all kicked off?

ROXY: me n callie wouldna told u u had a choice if it was all just some meaningless bs

ROXY: its not like i was ever some master seer of all that ever was or will be but i do know a lil bit abt what coulda gone down if things were different

ROXY: and u know what

ROXY: i like the way things turned out just fuckin fine

ROXY: so maybe u could stop wastin precious eternity thinkin ur so special that its ur fault everyones not perfectly happy

JOHN: i just kept wanting to find ways to make everything make sense, you know?

JOHN: but maybe it just fucking doesn’t.

ROXY: i know we became grownups in a world built specifically n cosmically for us

ROXY: so i get wanting to find a pattern in everything

ROXY: but not everything has 2 b that deep

ROXY: n when u think abt it

ROXY: lookin at it that way, like evrythin has to be this elaborately purposeful heroic design to be worthwhile

ROXY: is actually p shallow

JOHN: oh.

JOHN: yeah, i guess.

JOHN: i’m sorry. it’s just so hard to not feel like a total asshole.

JOHN: maybe i’m not some grand vizier of destroying time and space or whatever.

JOHN: but we KNOW that there’s a canon timeline out there.

JOHN: and it seems really obvious to me that we aren’t in it anymore.

ROXY: so what

JOHN: “so what”???

ROXY: yea

ROXY: so what

ROXY: tf do i care that theres some other reality out there some1 arbitrarily decided was the “real” one

ROXY: whats that have to do with the life i have now

ROXY: what is there actually that makes this one mean less than that one to the ppl who r actually in it

JOHN: you never feel like it would’ve been better if things had gone a different way?

JOHN: magic or no, i could have done a lot differently, for you especially.

JOHN: stuck around, or... fuck.

JOHN: stayed out of your way to begin with.

JOHN: let you and callie do your thing, or do whatever it was you seemed to be headed off to do.

JOHN: i just didn’t expect it to be me, after...

ROXY: nah dont say that

ROXY: i mean i accept ur apology this time but

ROXY: theres obvs all kinds of ways shit coulda gone

ROXY: and tbh back then

ROXY: with her...

ROXY: mostly i think i just wanted to do stuff right

ROXY: not that i knew wtf that even meant lmao

ROXY: which was prob the problem lmao lmao lmao

ROXY: just like

ROXY: we had this big fresh as hell start at bein people!

ROXY: i had all these conflictin thoughts abt how to be me in the first place

ROXY: like what it meant to date a beautiful skull alien

ROXY: sexualitywise and genderwise and person in generalwise

ROXY: for a while there i didnt know if i wanted ppl to think of me as a woman at all

JOHN: ah, i didn’t know.

JOHN: well, i guess maybe i wondered?

JOHN: but the way young idiot me would have wondered, so not that deeply.

JOHN: and it seemed like you’d forgotten all about it when we got together.

ROXY: i hadnt forgotten about it

JOHN: do you want to talk about it...?

ROXY: i coulda told you then but i kinda felt embarrassed abt flip floppin with my identity i think

ROXY: mean it isnt like i grew up with big airquotes society tellin me what was right n wrong like u did

ROXY: so it wasnt any kind of shamefest

ROXY: just a lot of abstract hypotheticals wed only just started talking about and never got very far into

ROXY: just idk i thought i might do things one way but then i stopped hangin out with callie as much

ROXY: its not like i stopped thinkin abt it

ROXY: or her

ROXY: but it never rly came up with anyone else and i didnt rly feel like i could talk abt it with you so i never brought it up again

JOHN: i’m really sorry you felt that way, roxy.

ROXY: its ok its not ur fault

JOHN: but you don’t regret it?

JOHN: not going for that stuff, and instead just... marrying me?

JOHN: i’m not asking so you can absolve me, i’m just impressed.

JOHN: how do you not second guess every choice you make?

ROXY: i havent stuck my head in the timeline vortex like u have so i dunno what its like to see other options

ROXY: i just do things the best way i think to do em and then shrug n hope it works out?

ROXY: i dont think i can regret anything

ROXY: theres not only one right way to be me imo

ROXY: i like the me i am

ROXY: its not like i went n decided “actually hell ya love to be a woman n do all the shit on the woman checklist”

ROXY: i get that thats prob what it looks like outside of my own self but i dont care abt that

ROXY: sorry lol im not good at this whole explainin what transpires in my brain thing

ROXY: idk this life ive been livin gave me harry anderson

ROXY: that kinda outweighs anything else just for me personally

ROXY: n its not like i ever totally quit thinkin abt that gender stuff

ROXY: i just found a different way to work it out than maybe i was originally gonna

ROXY: i...

ROXY: but lmao john were just adults

ROXY: were not dead!

ROXY: idk i mean were only what... barely middle aged in regular human years?

ROXY: we got all kinds of hypothetical but still prolly finite eternity to work our shit out

ROXY: who tf knows

ROXY: its not like you figure out who you are when youre 23 and then the rest of ur whole life is just sittin back watchin ur shit fall apart or not

ROXY: i mean maybe thats been it for u so far

JOHN: haha. ouch.

ROXY: i just dont think im anywhere near done buildin those roxy self actualization train stops

ROXY: who the fuck can say how many more i got lined up

ROXY: same goes for u

ROXY: if youre willing to look at this life as more than a cosmically pointless dead end failure that is

JOHN: i guess...

JOHN: there’s literally nothing to do but keep moving forward.

JOHN: i may as well not be a big fucking downer about it if i don’t have to be.

ROXY: thats the spirit

ROXY: weve got a million billion lifetimes ahead of us john

ROXY: u dont even KNOW all the ways u got left to fuck up in!!

ROXY: hows that for some inspiration??!

JOHN: it’s...

JOHN: it’s pretty fucking inspirational, roxy.

JOHN: thank you for trusting me with this personal stuff.

JOHN: i know partly you were telling me all that to kick my sadsack ass, but i know you don’t talk about this kind of thing every day.

ROXY: to be real i hadnt even let myself think abt it every day

ROXY: so thanks for lettin me ramble at u out loud instead of just almost thinkin abt it once every few years

JOHN: i guess sometimes it takes hearing the same shit over and over until it sticks.

JOHN: that’s mostly an own on myself by the way.

ROXY: lmao were just rippin off those bandaids left n right over here

ROXY: a coupla professional issue discussers

JOHN: yeah, i’m frankly baffled by how fucking good we are at this?

JOHN: where was this when we sucked so hard at being married?

ROXY: buried under a shocking number of issues is my guess

JOHN: well, it’s nice to throw a few off, for once.

ROXY: feel free to communicate with me instead of spendin the next 300 years in a silent prison of your own making if u so desire

JOHN: hey harry anderson.

JOHN: it’s really, really good to see you.

JOHN: do you wanna go for a drive?

HARRY ANDERSON: yeah, dad.

HARRY ANDERSON: that could be cool.

#homestuck #homestuck epilogues #roxy lalonde #john egbert #harry anderson egbert #candy epilogue #page 38

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dylansslutt · 3 years

Text

daddy issues 2/ r.c

part two of daddy issues!!!

this was highly requested along with taking forever to be posted. life’s been crazy, went to mystic falls (covington, georgia) tons of stuff of tvd coming! along with seeing Harry in concert.

also this will have a third part, this will be steaming but only..

WARNINGS: THIS CHAPTER IS VERY INTENSE AND ROUGH. DEALING WITH ABUSE OF (LUKE) ALONG WITH ABUSE OF NEAR RAPE EXPERIENCE !!!! ALSO DEALS WITH COCAINE AND HURTFUL WORDS ECT.

IF YOU HAVE ANY TRIGGERS TO THESE DO NOT READ! FOR OTHERS there is another chapter

lmk if you think it should lead to rough/sad ending , or steamy sexy ending. i cant decide.

if you enjoy leave some love :) NONE OF MY WORK SHOULD BE REWRITTEN! ALL WORK IS MINE. DONT STEAL PLS!!!

___

“If anything goes south you can always call me. What utter bullshit.” Selene mumbles to herself. Of course, rafe would play the nice guy. after the fact that he just got jj fucking arrested.

He beat the shit out of Pope, while delivering groceries the day he was at work. Him and topper hit him with golf clubs, literally jumped the poor kid.

So pope and JJ sink toppers boat, and Jj takes the blame. I bit my lip as I watched my brother come out the door with my dad. With everything going on I got stuck back with Luke.

I would’ve left by now, but not making much money for a apartment, and leaving jay stuck by himself. No thanks, that would be awful. i want to get a second job, prove i can support myself along with jj... maybe john b too if i could; he has enough shit on his plate.

I sink back into my seat as the arrive closer to the truck, knowing it’s best to be quiet. Luke sat there for a second before throwing a punch towards jj.

“Dad!” I lean forward grabbing his arm, “stop!” his elbow swings back slamming into my nose. Blood immediately pours from it. i grip my nose, as jj blood splatters against the window.

“Do you know how much y’a fuckin’ costed me?” Another swing. Tears fell down my cheeks, searing pain radiates through my face. i glance around through my blurred vision, grabbing the biggest thing near me.

i swung it, luke thrown forward by the blow of the binder in my hand.

“ENOUGH!”

jj is cowered in the corner, i try to move back as his eyes lifted; making direct contact with mine. he glared, without a blink swung his fist back towards me. my ears rang as my head flew towards the right. catching myself against the back car window.

ringing was all i heard, the motion of the car bringing me to reality. i tried to keep quiet but the pain was unbearable.

Everything was quiet, or maybe it’s just the ringing in my ears. I struggle to keep my vision straight. He almost knocked me the fuck out.

I know by now that what I just did was the stupidest thing alive, but I had to get him off jay’s back. I leaned against the window, holding my groans in.

The pain was unbearable.

i sat quietly in the back, trying to stop my nose from bleeding. i knew once we got home it was a ‘pack our shit- and dip’ type of shit. i catch jay’s eyes in the rearview mirror a few times; i tried my best to avoid his gaze.

it hurt me, a lot. i was the oldest, im the one supposed to take care of this; of us. to watch my own father beat my brother, swing on me. it hurt. i dont have the physical strength to handle my fathers drunken rage.

i have to get us out of here, i need to find a second job asap. help take care of my family. i ignored my fathers remarks on the way back to the house, knowing silence was the best of option.

jj quickly rushed in avoiding my father. i trailed after him, slipping into my room. i allow myself to cry softly as i stare at my image in the mirror. i was 19 years old, and i looked weak and pathetic.

the music and yells from the living room made me divert my eyes, landing on my lit up phone.

i quickly picked it up, a message from jay.

are u coming with me to john b’s

i bit my lip, no debate there honestly.

yes.

ill be out in the front, gimme like 5 mins

—

I sat on the hammock outside, enjoying time to myself. Everyone knew to let me be alone, when I needed it.

The soft breeze cooled my skin from the summer heat. I could almost fall asleep out here.

My phone buzzes making my eyebrows furrow, I glance at the message

rafe

no text ? Ouch.

I rolled my eyes, not even bothering to answer. I already smoked tonight. The alcohol i drank not even doing anything i wished for.

You knew who Barry was, your dads dealer. You’ve dealt with him a few times when you and your friends use to get stuff.

And now I really wanted some. I wanted to end this miserable night with something fun.

I find Barry’s number through my endless contacts. Asking if I can swing by in 15 mins.

I sat up going inside, I ignore the laughs from the group as I grab some cash and my bag.

I stopped awkwardly at the hall, “hey guys. Madison and Luke broke up, girl code gonna go help.” I mention w girl I used to hang out with as a excuse.

Kie gives me soft eyes, “ugh that sucks!” jj nods and everyone else goes back to what they were doing.

It’s scary how good I can lie, just like that. No questions.

i made way down the road, praying my dad didn’t randomly decide to pop up. eventually, i made way up the front of barry’s place. your dads truck wasn’t here so you knew you were in the clear

already texted barry my arrival, i made way into the house. the mix of cigarette’s and weed filled my nostrils. my eyes scan the area, particularly landing on a certain someone.

the one that caused everything today.

rafe cameron.

i ignore his presence, not even wondering why he’s here, or what he’s here for. barry not so far from the boy, chuckled. i kept my hair in front of my face, already knowing i have a black eye.

“lil maybank, what you doin’ here?” his voice rang out. i shrug my shoulders, “oh you know...”

he smirked, “oh i do know.” i glare at him, “just like yo’ daddy.”

i ignore the other gaze i get from rafe, rolling my eyes. “shut up barry, you don’t like when i speak up. remember?”

barry eyes shoot daggers into mine, but he fell short. his gaze softens at my appearance but neverless; he turned the other way; making me mentally thank him.

“how much?”

i pull out $50, “fuck with me for $50.” barry scales up the white powder. the one i desperately missed the most. he hands me the baggie, “here, you wanna try a bump first. make sure you like it?”

i knew he was only being nice because he felt bad. we used to be really cool with each other a few years ago, but after one night everything changed.

i sit down beside rafe, still not even acknowledging he’s here. barry looked between us, “you ain’t met country club?”

i nod, “yeah, he’s the one who got my brother sent to jail.” i spat, not even giving him a chance to speak up, before lifting the cut up straw, snorting the line laid out in front of me. i forgot how my nose was still bruised, it had a dull ache after that. then it began to feel numb.

barry bust out laughing, “no fuckin’ way, bro. you fucked up for that.”

i ignore him, hitting the second line with the other nostril. i love the feeling of both sides being numb. i sit back, wiping the tip of my nose, cautiously. rafe still sat quiet next to me, which started making me feel uneasy.

“i ugh- i gotta go, thanks b. i’ll catch ya’ around later.” i quickly grab my stuff, walking out the door. footsteps trailed behind me. already knowing who’s following.

“selene, wait!”

i continue walking until i’m pulled back. “wait a second, fuck.”

i look up at him, eyes furrowed with anger. “no, im not gonna fuckin’ wait! you wanna play all fucking nice guy to me and literally fuck my brother over, you fucked me over.”

“i-i it wasn-”

“fucking save the bullshit rafe, you jumped pope. jj took the blame because unlike you.” my finger pokes his chest. “he knew pope has a future ahead of him. he’s not a strung out, immature, pathetic little boy with daddy issues.”

rafes eyes glare down into mine, his body almost shaking. i quickly step back, the words process through my head. oh my god, i know im angry but fuck.

rafe chuckles, “it wasn’t me. it was topper, but yeah i did beat up pope. you may say he has a future, but pogues dont have futures, selene.”

he steps closer, as i gulp frozen in place.

“you have no future, your just like your daddy. didn’t think i heard the rumors. no wonder you are a fucking attention seeker, because you, selene, have daddy issues.” he spat. “i mean fuck- look at you! like literally look at you right now.”

i felt my eyes began to water, going to make a remark but he cut me off again.

“your fucking pathetic.”

"fuck you.” i slap him clear across his cheek. not even caring if he’d try anything back, i storm off in the other direction. fuck, what the fuck just happened?

—

i walk down the road, it was dark; street lamps giving the only source of light. i sniffle, tears fell down my cheeks as i hear his voice replay in my head.

i follow the trail off to my old spot, once in view i sit down on the park bench. i take my phone case off, setting it down on my lap. i get everything crushed and lined up before snorting a few lines.

i put everything back up before heading back towards the road, john b’s couch calling my name. i rub my nose, making sure no evidence could be left. i pull out my phone checking my appearance.

god the sight made me wanna throw up, my nose and eyes were bruised. my eyes swollen, red. i really need to get my shit together.

i continue down the road before a engine rumbles down the road. i swear to fucking god, if this is rafe tryna pull the same shit.

my eyes squinted as i try to look at the vehicle. that’s not rafe’s truck. i fumble with my bag, the knife grasped firmly in my hand. i continue straight, not daring to look back.

i could hear the truck come up behind me. they start to slow near me, “selene maybank?”

my eyes flicker up to the vehicle, a truck with two men. “mannnnn... is it good to see you!”

i start walking quicker, not even bothering to answer. i need to get the fuck out of here. the truck doors slam shut, footsteps pick up.

“hey! i was fuckin’ talkin’ to ya!” the mans voiced called out. i took off into sprint, the grip of my knife turning my knuckles white.

i’m in full go mode as I pull my phone out. dialing the first number i saw, continuing down the pavement.

“selene?” rafe’s voice rang out. fuck i didn’t know it would be him.

my breathing is uneven as i try to speak, “please help, im near the place- from last time- two me-.” i stumble over the cracked pavement.

My knees were cut up ,but I luckily caught myself with my hands. I ignore the pain, focusing on my surroundings.

i turn back seeing the men hot on my tail, i rush up, swooping to grab my phone. i hit my knee hard as fuck; its slowing me down. i wince, trying to keep on moving.

“selene!?” i hear from my hand. i bring the phone back up to my ear, “please hurry. im sca- agh!” hands lift me up from the ground. everything was dropped, i left my knife. my phone was on the ground.

a sob escaped my lips as i felt my body hit the ground hard. “god damnit girl.”

i sit up quickly, ignoring the pain radiating down my back. i hold my hands up in defense. “plea-please, i don’t know you! wha-what do you want?” i hiccup.

the taller man that i assumed yeeted me to the floor, laughed. “your daddy owes us a lot of money.”

somehow through all of this i manage to roll my eyes, “get in line, he owes everyone.” i scan my surroundings, i’m not under light. we are in a dark area. somewhere hard to see me in need of help.

“baby girl.” he leaned down to my level his hand on my knee, i kick him away. his hand reached around grabbing my hair, a squeak left my lips.

“since, i don’t have any money. i need some’ else.” i literally thought i could throw up right now. why in the fuck am i put in this situation, my dad’s such a fuck up. i might be raped, kidnapped, killed.

“plea-please don’t.” i whimper and the other guy laughs. “i fuckin’ love when they beg.”

i began to kick and scream, but the guy closest covered my mouth trying to drown my desperation out. i bit his hand, making him back hand me. my left ear rang, not even noticing that the guy farthest from us fell.

“get the fuck off ‘er.” the body was thrown off me. i laid there shaking, hands found my arms; my body instinctively reacting, pushing and pulling.

“he-hey. no, no-no selene. you’re good. it’s me, it’s me.“ my eyes found rafe’s and i began bawling.

“shhh. it’s okay, i got you.” after that last word i push him away.

“no yo-you dont. you don’t ‘got me’.” i glare at him through my tears. “im fucking pathetic to you, just like my daddy right?” my emotions were so high right now i started laughing.

“bro..” barry’s voice rings through my ears. “hope your fucking happy. since my daddy almost got me killed.” i stumbled up on my feet.

“selene, i’m sorry. look let me take you home.” he sighed out, he was desperate to help you at this point. i gave him a pointed look,“i didn’t mean to call you- i just. i clicked the first number. thank you.”

with that i turned and walked off, i don’t know what the fuck is going on with me, with this. i just almost gotten raped. or worse kidnapped and killed. rafe just saved me.

rafe called me fucking pathetic.

rafe saved me.

everything was on repeat, my heart felt like it was going to explode. i couldn’t even hear the fact of anyone following me.

“selene.” his voice called out softly, bringing me out my thoughts. “you want to be left alone? fine. but after all this shit tonight, there is no way in hell. im letting you walk back to wherever, by yourself.”

i turned around staring at him. “i have no where to go.” my eyes filled with tears. “i have no one. you’re right, i am fucking pathetic.”

his eyes soften, “ i fucked up, i should’ve never said that about you.” he stepped forward making me step back. I shake my head, everything was too much.

I felt dizzy, really dizzy. The world span from under me and I felt myself go limp.

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe x y/n #obx rafe #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x reader #obx imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks #rafe fluff #jj maybank x reader #john b imagine #sarah cameron #barry outer banks

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rosiehunterwolf · 3 years

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CONGRATS ON 100 FOLLOWERS FREN 💖💖 you deserve it and so much more

If you're feeling up to it (DONT FEEL OBLIGATED DO U HEAR ME MY DEAR) movie verse Jay my beloved

asfljdlkj tysm Amour! I'm so glad to have you as part of my tumblr family, ur one of my best friends on here 💕✨

i really needed to write something movie!verse because I LOVE movie!verse and haven't written anything yet, so I was excited for this one

(@fabro-de-omres you've said in the past that you would love to read it if I wrote something movie!verse, so here's ✨content✨)

I'll chase you to the moon and back

Summary: When you’re in a secret ninja force and are your city’s primary protectors, pulling your weight is important.

Jay tries to be an asset to his team, but it’s difficult when he’s viewed as the scaredy-cat who cracks lame jokes. He loves his friends with all his heart, but sometimes it’s hard to know if they return those feelings.

Jay wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t.

Sometimes, Jay felt like he was a burden to the team.

He tried not to, he really did- he knew the others liked him and cared about him. But standing next to strong Cole, smart Zane, brave Kai, determined Nya, or warm-hearted Lloyd, it was difficult not to feel… inadequate.

It didn’t help that Cole hadn’t answered any of his recent texts.

It could be anything, Jay told himself as he stared down at the unread messages, resisting the urge to send another text. He could have an appointment he forgot to tell me about, or maybe he’s just not looking at his phone right now, or he simply doesn’t share my urgency to answer a text message so quickly. Cole had always been much more laid back about that, raising an eyebrow as Jay always scrambled to answer the text from his mom, or whoever had sent it this time.

But Cole was also Jay’s best friend. He knew he got anxious when someone left him unread for too long. Because of that, he had always been good about answering Jay’s texts quickly, even as the others still groaned about the earth ninja taking ages to respond to them.

For him to go an hour without responding was… concerning, to say the least.

Jay pushed the thoughts aside. He was probably just overthinking this, like he always was. Cole would get back to him soon. It wasn’t like he was ignoring him, or anything.

Maybe the others are up to something. He opened the group chat, but although there were usually a hundred notifications at any given time- he had learned that the hard way the first day he had joined, turning on his phone after school to a whopping 785 texts- it was empty now. The last text was from Lloyd, asking Kai to meet him at his locker before lunch.

Jay felt his heart rate spike. The lack of an argument between Kai and Nya in the last five minutes alone was worrying- because heaven forbid they actually talk things out in person, even if they literally lived one bedroom down from each other- and his mind quickly spiraled into possibilities. Had someone kidnapped them? Had their parents grounded them? Or maybe they had committed a crime and gotten thrown into jail. He wouldn’t put it past Kai and Nya to pull something dumb- Cole and Zane would go along with it, and Lloyd would never speak up enough to voice his disproval-

No, don’t be ridiculous, they wouldn’t commit a crime.

Well… Kai might. But the others would stop him.

What if they made a separate group chat without me?

No. His friends would never do that. They’d be more likely to commit that crime.

But the thought wouldn’t leave Jay’s brain, and before he knew it, he was sending a text in the group chat.

jaybird123: What r u guys up to? Wanna hang?

He immediately regretted it. What if he came off as too clingy? Too overbearing? They probably just wanted some time to themselves.

That didn’t sound quite right to Jay, but he stuffed his phone in his pocket, forcing the thought out of his mind.

He decided to go to the park- watching the people there always gave him good ideas for inventions. He was too late to catch a bus down there, but it wasn’t too far to walk.

His phone buzzed, and he glanced down.

thegreendragon: sorry jay, got plans 2nite. maybe tmrrw?

Jay tried to stop the pang of disappointment. Lloyd wouldn’t lie to him. The others probably were just busy. It was no big deal. Tomorrow, things would be back to normal.

A couple of blocks away, he caught the sounds of annoyed shouts, the kind that usually hinted towards the presence of-

He stopped, blinking, as a boy darted past the onlookers and into the shop.

Huh. Lloyd?

Starting towards the store his friend had vanished into, Jay peered through the window, looking for Lloyd-

Jay froze. Lloyd was standing with the others, animatedly babbling something to them as they watched him happily.

Jay shrunk back. They really had met up without him, and had lied about it, too. He wasn’t being paranoid- his friends just didn’t want him around.

For a moment, the shock left Jay floundering. He had no other friends. The other ninja were his entire livelihood. What was he meant to do now?

He quickly wiped at the tears pooling in his eyes. I’ll go home. My mom will know what to do.

He had the worst feeling that this was something that even his mom couldn’t fix, though.

About halfway home, a buzz in his pocket interrupted him from his stupor. Pulling out his phone, he saw there was a new message in the group chat.

rock’n’cole: hey jay, something just came up, can u meet us at the warehouse asap?

Jay just stared at his phone for a minute, debating whether to actually show up or not. After all, the others had ditched him, why shouldn’t he do the same? And he still felt hurt- he wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk to them yet. He really should just go home.

jaybird123: sure, i’ll be there in 20

Jay had never been good at holding grudges.

Thirty minutes later (he had ended up stalling a little bit just for the spite of it) he pushed through the doors of the warehouse. It was pitch black inside, and as he fumbled around for the lights, he couldn’t help but notice that no one else was there. It was stupid of me to come. They just abandoned me. Again.

Suddenly, the lights burst on, and the others were jumping out from behind the furniture, cheering and hugging him. Jay stumbled backward, taken aback. “What’s going on?”

Kai looked at him like he was crazy, gesturing widely at all the balloons and streamers that Jay could see now that the lights were on. “It’s a party, dumbass, what else do you think?”

“What for? It’s not my birthday!”

Nya scoffed, as if he had just told her that men lived on the moon. “Of course not, this is for your Ninja-versary!”

“My… what?”

“The anniversary of the day you first became a ninja, stupid!”

“Oh.” He blinked around at all the decor. “All this? Just for something as simple as that?”

Kai wasn’t the only one looking at him like he had sprouted a second head, now.

“Are you kidding?” Cole said. “We’re not going to skimp on celebrating the day one of our favorite people came into our lives.”

Jay blinked at him. “I…” I’m so sorry for ever doubting you. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

“Now, what are we waiting around for?” Cole threw an arm around Jay’s shoulders. “Let’s go get some cake!”

As the ninja hurried over to the table, squabbling over who would get which slice, Jay squashed between the middle of his big, loud, bickering family, he couldn’t have felt more at home.

#:D #movie characters are so fun y'all #i'll definitely have to write something that explores all of them more not just jay #but i'll save that for something longer so i can do it properly #and coming up with their chat usernames was the highlight of this piece XD #i have more for the others as well and this is going to remain canon within all my movie fics #ninjago #asks #amourshipper393 #fic request #event #100 followers event #ficlet #my fic #rosie writes #movie!verse #tlnm #jay walker #requests open

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kaistarus · 3 years

Text

Mistexting Mayhem

Pairing: Nishinoya X Reader

Words: 1.6K

Summary: You accidentally send Nishinoya a text that was meant for Yachi and now he’s knows secrets you were hoping he never found out

A/N: If you think this fic is anything but crack you’re wrong lmao I’ve always wanted to write a fic with this style and Noya is great for the chaos i needed. It was fun

Masterlist

[6:40pm] idiot⚡: look y/n without adhd id be too powerful

i could beet god himself in handtohand combat

god was afraid of my raw fuckin awesomeness wen i bursted from the woom

[6:41pm] y/n: there is so much wrong with what u just said

[6:41pm] idiot⚡: i have absoltly no clue wat

[6:43pm] y/n: put those 3 brain cells to work. I believe in you

[6:43pm] idiot⚡: but theyve reached their daily quota

plz there so tired and overworked

You snorted, a dopey smile on your lips as you laid surrounded by textbooks and homework, swinging your feet in the air behind you. You focused intently on the cell phone in your hand doing everything you could to procrastinate the schoolwork around you.

[6:44pm] y/n: noyas so stupid

[6:44pm] yachi❤: i thought you liked him?

[6:45pm] y/n: jeez Yachi. dont come for my throat

i cant help that i have bad taste 🙄

[6:46pm] yachi❤: if it helps he tripped over a stray ball today

maybe think of that till you don’t like him??

Unfortunately, the image of Nishinoya waving to everyone then biffing it only had you smiling like a dork. How you’d gotten to a point that Nishinoya being an idiot made you swoon, you’ll never know.

You raised your eyebrow suspiciously at the new notification on Snapchat from ‘Tanaka’ and after swiping it open you nearly dropped your phone. Looking back at you was Nishinoya, his head tilted and eyebrow quirked in confusion with a gari-gari kun shoved halfway down his throat. The caption at the bottom reading ‘daaaammn look at your prince charming go 😩’.

You frowned at the picture, letting out a frustrated groan at how your heart accelerated against your ribcage. You quickly tapped out of it and reopened the messenger app.

[6:57pm] y/n: we have to kill Noya

[6:57pm] idiot⚡: we??? what kind of mission is this??? 😤

[6:58pm] y/n: i like him too much. he has to die. its for my own good

You waited impatiently for her response and almost debated doing your homework since it took longer than you felt necessary. You supposed you had suggested murder to Yachi, but still…

When you finally received a response your entire body froze.

[7:11pm] idiot⚡: U LIKE ME?!?!? 😍

UR KILLING ME?!?! 😢

IM SO CONFUSED......

and a lil turned on ngl👀

Your hand covered your mouth in horror as you processed what the hell you had just done. This didn’t happen to people in real life. Mistexting was stuff people made up when they created fake texts for social media to get likes. You didn’t think people actually went through this.

You opened new notifications to escape the hell that stared you straight in the face.

[7:15pm] Tanaka💪: Yo, whatd u do. Whys Noya having a panic attak

[7:16pm] y/n: I accidently texted him instead of Yachi and told him i liked him 😣

[7:16pm] Tanaka💪: O wtf thats hilarious 😂

[7:17pm] y/n: ITS NOT HILArIOUS

[7:18pm] Tanaka💪: Hes askin if its a prank. Wat do i do?

[7:19pm] y/n:I DONT KNOW SDKFHJN IM THE IDIOT WHO STSRTED IT

He stopped responding and you banged your head against your pillow anxiously.

[7:23pm] y/n: YACHI ITOLD NoYA I LKED HIM AND NOU HE NOS WAY DO JI DO!?!????! 😭😭😭

[7:23pm] idiot⚡: THIS ISNT YACHI!!!!

HOLY FUKC U DO LIEK ME!!!

You screamed into your pillow. Were you fucking kidding? This could not be happening.

[7:25pm] Tanaka💪: dude, twice? i cant save u now 🤪

[7:25pm] y/n: betraying me in my time of fucking need? i’ll remember this asshole

[7:26pm] Tanaka💪: so vulgar 👀

You growled at Tanaka’s uselessness and bravely peeked through one eye as you went back to your conversation with Nishinoya.

[7:24pm] idiot⚡: STOP IGNORING ME I KNO UR TEXTING RYU

[7:26pm] idiot: IM GONNA KEEP SPAMMING U TILL U ANSWE RME😤

[7:26pm] idiot⚡: 1

[7:27pm] y/n: what is this twitch chat? fuck

[7:28pm] idiot⚡: your heeeeererererreee 🥰

[7:29pm] y/n: soooooo………..

clearly there has been a misunderstanding

[7:29pm] idiot⚡: oh nonono. I understand PERFETCLY. u LOVE me

its ok. this is a safe space. we can discuss feelings 😌

[7:31pm] y/n: there are zero feelings to discuss

[7:31pm] idiot⚡: then y did u say u like me too much so i have to die?

[7:34pm] y/n: i am filled with rage 🤬

[7:34pm] idiot⚡: rage over how much u liiike me???🥰🥰🥰

[7:36pm] y/n: definitely not

You racked your brain for some kind of reasonable sounding excuse, eventually landing on:

[7:36pm] y/n: It was autocorrect

[7:36pm] idiot⚡: HAH????? FROM?????

[7:38pm] y/n: HAH???

....Nora?

[7:38pm] idiot⚡: Who TF is nora???? 😡

[7:39pm] y/n: someoe i like obviously 😏

[7:40pm] idiot⚡: so u like them but u use my name so much it autocorrected to me? 🤔

[7:44pm] y/n: OK MR DETEcTIVE WHERE TF ARE THES BRAIN CELS COMIN GFROM?

[7:45pm] idiot⚡: i pull them out for special ocasions 😌

[7:45pm] y/n: well how bout you pack those up and put em away

[7:46pm] idiot⚡: how bout two people who LIKE each other SAY something so they can DOOOOOOOO something bout IT 🙄

You began typing a frantic message about how it was none of his business until you processed the message. Then you read it over several times before letting out an audible, “what the fuck.”

[7:50pm] y/n: YOU LIKE ME

[7:50pm] idiot⚡: I FLIRT WITH U ALL THE TIME WAT DO U MEAN yOu LiKe Me!?!

FUCKING OBVIOSLY

[7:51pm] y/n: literally when. name one time.

[7:52pm] idiot⚡: I WALK WITH U EVERY MORNING!!!

[7:53pm] y/n: I thought that was a coincidence???

[7:54pm] idiot⚡: I BRNIG U SNACKS DURING LUNCH!!!

[7:54pm] y/n: I thought they were leftovers??

[7:55pm] idiot⚡: …....I call you cute and invite you to my games.

[7:56pm] y/n: you call everyone attractive and i thought there was like a audience quota or something........?

[7:57pm] idiot⚡: ….i cant tell who i should be upset with rn but i think its u 😑

[7:58pm] y/n: WAT WHY!?!

[8:00pm] Idiot⚡: I LIKE U+U LIKE ME=WE LIKE EACH OTHER

[8:01pm] y/n: whoa. slow down. I hate math 😣

[8:02pm] Idiot⚡: ===WE SHUD GO ON A DATE!!!

[8:02pm] y/n: HAH!? i think you started multiplying that addition problem buddy 🤨

Your cheeks were beginning to ache from how wide your dopey grin was. You couldn’t help but tease Nishinoya-it was second nature at this point-even if you now knew your feelings were mutual.

[8:04pm] idiot⚡: i suk at math but thats NOT the point

point iiissss i think deep down u want to hang out and cuddle and fall in love

maybe even..... 😏 kiiisssss

[8:04pm] y/n: WHOA WHOA WHOA

WARN ME BEFORE YOU GET NSFW

i would never premarital eye-contact. let alone k🤢ki-🤢🤢kiss🤢🤮🤮

[8:05pm] idiot⚡: well we would have socks on 🙄

[8:06pm] y/n: oh. well if there’s protection

[8:06pm] idiot⚡: Im not a maniac

[8:07pm] y/n: i suppose as long as you dont do something stoopid

like faceplant in public

that would be humiliating

[8:08pm] idiot⚡: I-

who told you that 😠

[8:08pm] y/n: i have spies everywhere noya

youre never safe

[8:09pm] Idiot⚡: kinda hot 👀

makin me fear for my life like that👀

[8:10pm] y/n: i hate that i like you

It kills me inside

i feel braincels leaving with every conversation

[8:12pm] Idiot⚡: fan behavior 😏

so am i taking u to eat tomorow or wat?

[8:14pm] y/n: if I HAVE to 🙄

[8:14pm] Idiot⚡: No u GET to

I am a fucking delite 😤

[8:15pm] y/n: whatever helps you sleep at night

[8:15pm] Idiot⚡: nothing helps me sleep at night. this mind never rests

[8:16pm] y/n: thinking 24/7 and still not a smart thing comes out of that mouth 👀

[8:17pm] Idiot⚡: yas, bully me more 😫

[8:19pm] y/n: ok thats as much as i can handle for one day......

im gonna pretend to do homework

[8:20pm] idiot⚡: okie... good luck my sweet baby pogchamp 🥰

[8:20pm] y/n: no

[8:20pm] Idiot⚡: 😘😘😘

[8:22pm] y/n: 🙄✋

[8:23pm] Idiot⚡: oh FUCK yas 🥵 shut me UP

[8:25pm] y/n: suddenly all i feel is endless regret

[8:26pm] Idiot⚡: i have that effect on people

See you tomorrow 🥰🥰🥰

[8:27pm] y/n: unfortunately 😘

[8:27pm] idiot⚡: 🥵

You flung an arm over your eyes and let a small giggle bubble up from your chest. Nishinoya was probably the biggest idiot you’d ever met, but you couldn’t help that thinking of spending time with him had you kicking your feet with excitement.

You supposed you should actually get started on your homework. You reached forward when a notification popped up from Yachi, asking if her idea worked and you had stopped liking Nishinoya.

...you should probably break the news, huh?

#nishinoya yuu #nishinoya imagine #nishinoya scenarios #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya yu #tanaka ryuunosuke #yachi hitoka #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #hq nishinoya #nishinoya #nishinoya yū #haikyuu #nishinoya yuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyu!!#haikyuu x y/n

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palbabor-writes · 4 years

Note

Hellooo queen I hope you had/will have a great day. This is actually my first time requesting something so I’m very sorry if I do something wrong 🥺🥺... can you maybe write some fluff (OR NSFW I DONT MIND... just love him way too much damn) stuff for dabi?? I don't know if you only take requests with exact instructions or if this request is enough... if you need something more precise i will try to come up with something! Thank you very much!!

Hello, love! You did it perfectly & thank you so much for asking! I can be a bit of a lurker on things, so I totally get how much courage it takes to do one of these.

You did amazing & I love, love this question. I love it so much that I went ahead and took an old outline of mine & made it into a full blown fic for you!

Now, in honor of all the craziness swirling around our favorite flame user, Imma post it a little earlier then I’d planned! So, thank you for the ask & I hope to talk to you again ( ＾◡＾)っ ♡

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7496

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW 18+ only, mentions of blood and gore, heat play, dick piercings, adult language and freaking Dabi. That alone should warn you.

Thermós θερμός ther·mos adjective m (feminine θερμή, neuter θερμόν); warm, hot, boiling, glowing

It’s sweltering; the fervor of summer sticky, humid, and oppressive. Japan is in the throes of August, and this heatwave is not letting up. Even at night, it’s impossible for Dabi to get comfortable. He’s been lying, half naked, draped across his narrow twin mattress for the last few hours, sweating.

His quirk isn’t helping matters.

He’s been trying to recruit new members. Every day, he sets out, pounding the pavement, sifting through the bits and pieces of trash that he runs into. It’s a pity. If those scrubs weren’t so fucking pathetic, he might not be in this predicament. But they are, and now he’s having to suffer the consequences of his temper.

His phone gleams on his dilapidated side table, a text message chiming across the screen as it flashes a speck of brightness into the darkened room. Groaning, he leans over and snatches it up, his hands slick as he clutches the encased plastic.

It’s Toga.

As a rule, he tries to avoid her. He hates her chatter. It’s always some unending nonsense about those UA kids, about Stain, or about fucking blood. It’s always blood with her. Give her five minutes, and she’ll work it into her conversation somehow, even if it’s just blurting it out, a blush staining her cheeks.

Fucking freak.

[ Blondie: 12:34 am ]

- found smth 4 u. (Y/N) has a place. Keeps it @ like 60 degrees… lol

Well, disgusting as Toga is, she has her uses; he thinks as he reads her text.

He’d asked her, a few days before, if she knew a place where he could crash. Somewhere that had some goddamn air conditioning. The hideout’s unit is on the fritz again, not that it had ever worked all that well.

Hmm, well this is something, at least.

Dabi’s isn’t sure what to think about Toga’s little ‘find’. You were a newer recruit, someone that Compress had brought in.

He hadn’t paid much attention to you. You didn’t stay at the base and were only around if there was a specific mission, or a task, that Shigaraki set for you. He isn’t even sure what your quirk is. You seemed easy-going, neutral, but he doubted you’d extend that easy-going demeanor to him camping out at your place for the A/C.

Chucking his phone back on the side table, Dabi flops to his side and tries to drift off, hoping his exhaustion will let him ignore the suffocating heat he’s drowning in.

Fuck.

He’d done it again. It was hard to resist the urge when these people spouted such vague fucking bullshit at him. No one, not fucking one of them, could live up to his cause. And if they couldn’t meet that standard? Well, they were better off as ash, melting into blackened pools as the asphalt greedily soaked their blood into its cracked depths.

There is a heat advisory today.

He’d heard the news as he scarfed down a quick breakfast at the hideout’s bar. He wouldn’t be out for that long, he reasoned. Besides, maybe today he’d find someone good.

Wishful thinking on his part.

His skin feels oppressive and his staples and piercings are scalding, the metal hissing and steaming as he tries to dampen his quirk. It’s harder to regulate his temperature on hot days. He shouldn’t be out here, he thinks, snarling as he pats out a few rogue flames that catch on his dark jacket. Even lifting his arm to perform that simple task makes him grunt, hissing out a mantra of curses.

Shit, fuck, goddamn it fucking all.

He looks bitterly up at the sun and debates his next move.

He could retreat to the bar, but that doesn’t solve his problem. No, the viscous heat that radiated along those upper floors would just make his skin feel worse. Hell, it might even result in more mottling, his burns stretching farther along his arms and chest. He’s not going back to the bar.

Where the fuck even is he?

He peers down the alley toward the street. It’s not too busy; just after noon, so most of the foot traffic from the morning has died down. He yanks his hood up, ignoring the ache of his legs as he stalks toward the street corner.

Carefully, he pokes out, his eyes tracing over the crosswalk, looking for the street signs. Ah. He’s close to that address, your address, that Toga sent him.

Slipping his hands into his pockets, he saunters along the pavement, careful to keep his head down.

You were out of town.

He’d picked up that tidbit from Compress this morning. The masked man had been lamenting that you might be away for a few days, possibly weeks. Something about being on a fact finding task for that shadowy voice that talked with Shigaraki from his tv.

He didn’t care, still doesn’t. All he knows is that you supposedly keep your place cold, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

You’ve got a nice apartment.

It’s decorated in pleasing whites, yellows, reds and greens, with clean lines and modern touches. It’s kinda like you, he considers as he shrugs his coat off and breathes in that amazing waft of cold A/C. You’ve been useful to have in the League; efficient and no nonsense about the missions you're given and you can fit in with the outside world. You’d give even Toga a run for her money when it comes to espionage, he’s heard others say about you.

Dabi tosses a distasteful glare at your narrow couch and pads toward your bedroom, shouldering the door open and stepping into the dark sanctuary.

Your bed looks nice. It’s a good size too.

Lifting his boots from his feet and stripping down to his boxers, he presses into your clean sheets; shivering as the chilly air hits his overheated skin, cooling and dampening that oppressive sense of heat. He’s out in seconds, his body relaxing, slackening as he falls into the void of his dreams.

Yeah, now that he’s had this, there’s no way he’s staying at that hideout of the League’s unless he has to.

You’re gone for the better part of a week.

He’s started asking Compress about you. At first, the older man had given him an impassive stare. Since when did Dabi even know your name?

He’s asking because he needs to talk with you about… uh… supplies?

This, apparently, is the correct thing to say, because Compress nods his head sagely and elaborates on your timetable. You’re collecting things for Kurogiri and you’ll be gone for another few days.

Good, Dabi thinks, slinking into your apartment again, lowering the window behind him. He’s careful to leave things as he found them, his entryway into your place included. You don’t need to know about this.

What the fuck would he even say to you?

Hey, uh, it’s fucking hot at the hideout, and since you’ve got a working A/C unit and like 3 fans, he’s been sleeping over at yours. No big deal, right?

Even after you return, he keeps sneaking in.

He’s gotten your schedule memorized, and he’s heedful of the hours you keep. You’re a little more regular than the others in the League. You actually sleep at night; unlike the rest. The others are often out at God knows what hour, combing for recruits and leads, but not you.

So, Dabi shifts into full night owl mode. He crashes at your place in the midmorning, after you leave for the day, trying to ignore the perfume that comes from your sheets.

You’ve got a nice smell.

It’s oddly comforting, and he hates when he accidentally burrows into your pillows; nostrils flared, inhaling that aroma that’s all you. While he’s never talked with you before this, he goes out of his way to ignore you now.

What he’s doing is fucking weird, and lines are blurring. The other week he’d bumped into you coming out of the bar and he’d almost snatched you to him.

You must have just showered, because that fucking scent was radiating off your skin. It’s nothing too, eh, feminine? No, it’s more like… oranges and sandalwood. It’s a heady blend of rich balsamic and citrus, and he can’t get it out of his head.

August has faded into September, and he’s still sleeping over at yours.

He can’t help it. It’s not his fault your bed is so downy and, fuck, cool. It’s like the sheets don’t absorb his warmth. No, they’re always cold and they feel so fucking good against his staples and burned skin.

It’s midmorning, closer to noon, and he’s dozing, his eyes heavy and drooping. He’s exhausted, so bone tired, that he doesn’t hear your door opening. No, he doesn’t even notice you until he hears your voice.

“Um, would you like to tell me why you’re in my bed?”

He’s on his feet in a flash, a slow flicking of blue flames tracing along his fingers. You’re framed in your doorway, eyes wide, stepping away from his aggressive stance.

“Woah, woah,” you begin, lifting your hands in supplication. “Let’s just… take a minute and talk. I’m not-”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he snaps, his cerulean eyes narrowing, but he dampens his fire, a long curling of smoke framing his face.

“Uh, I think you got that backward there, bud. You’re not supposed to be here, I live here,” you scoff, one hand propping on your hip, head tilted exaggeratedly.

Dabi is about to spit something else out when you stride into your bedroom, tugging your jacket off and sauntering over to a tall dresser. He snaps his mouth closed and watches you. He’s not sure how he’s going to talk his way out of this, and he’s grateful for the reprieve. But, he knows an onslaught of anger or, fuck, preserve him, a lecture is incoming. Worst case, he thinks, observing you from his peripheral as you tug out a long shirt and some shorts, you’ll just kick him out and that will be that.

You glance at him again, your eyes lingering over his exposed chest and legs, and he can’t help the scowl that breaks over his face. He’s not embarrassed, he’s just, well, he’s not sure how to classify that stare. Most people recoil or toss him a glance of pity, their brows wrinkled with worry and distaste. But you? You arched an eyebrow and smiled.

Fucking weirdo.

Pausing in your doorway, you bite your lip into your mouth and carefully speak your next statement, voice smooth. “Look, while I’d rather you, oh, I don’t know, asked me about staying here. I’m not in the mood to argue with you, and I’ve got a long journey ahead of me tonight.” You take a deep inhale and toss him another smile.

“Just… just lay back down and get some rest. I promise I won’t molest you,” you tease, and he snaps his head up at that, his chin jutting in agitation.

You laugh at his sour face and he feels wrong-footed; lost. What the fuck? Who says shit like that? Who is in their right mind is just, oh, no worries man, promise I won’t grab your dick?

What’s wrong with you?

“I’m going to change and then I’m going to go to sleep. You can go, or you can stay, I really don’t care. All I know is that I’m not going to sleep on the couch when I’m in my apartment.” You retort, that grin still lifting your lips as you step away, the wall shielding you from his view.

Dabi remains where he is; standing in your bedroom, clad in his boxers, his hands clenched into fists by his side. Somehow this is worse than you throwing him out.

You return a few minutes later and he can’t get a good look at you. You slink past him and are under your covers in an instant. Not that he’s trying to give you a once over, he snarls to himself, shaking his inky head.

You nestle into the comforter and turn to your side, leaving him plenty of room on the opposite end of the bed. He blinks at you, a deep welling of uncertainty nestling in his stomach.

You’re quiet for a long moment, your eyes closing and shoulders relaxing, acting like there’s not a wanted, deadly villain in your bedroom, paces from your side. Then, you twist, giving him a quick scan, your eyes lingering over his.

“Either lay down or get out, Dabi. I’m not going to be able to sleep with you glaring at me like that. You look like some kinda ghost.”

Your declaration provokes a huffing, agitated reaction out of him. If there’s one thing Dabi hates, it’s being told what to do.

He slings himself beside you, splaying out, his body laying on top of the sheets. You chuckle, your head peeking at him over your shoulder. He ignores you and tries to close his eyes.

It feels strange, resting next to you like this. It’s… intimate, and he’s not sure if he hates or likes the sensation. He chances a glance at you, but you’ve already turned back to your side, your shoulders rising and lowering rhythmically. He shakes his head at your blasé reaction. How can you just, fuck, sleep?

He can’t get comfortable and his skin feels heavy again. It’s not heat this time. No, now something else is making everything feel too close, too warm.

He dampens his thoughts, mind frantically focusing on anything but you. As the sun slips behind the buildings across the street, his eyes lower and he fitfully sleeps, your rich smell filling his senses.

He’d left you in the night; tucking his clothes back on and easing out of your window.

True to your word, you’d relegated yourself to your side of the bed, hardly tossing or turning as you slept. As he paced back to the hideout, he wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into. He just hoped you’d keep your mouth shut. He didn’t want the others knowing about this, it felt, well it’s not like him. Abrasive- fucking spewing anger and vitriol? Yeah, that was him. But this? This was too soft, too gentle. He hated it.

But that’s the problem with hate. It’s terribly close to that other emotion. They’re sisters, really. Usually love and hate exist on two sides, but they’re still the same coin, no matter how you toss them.

You don’t act any differently after that night.

You keep coming to the hideout, giving him a vague smile and greeting before continuing your day. He’s acting differently, though. He can’t help but watch you, suddenly fascinated with how you move. He tries his best to shake himself from his musings, but sometimes he can’t help it.

If anything, he grumbles to himself, watching you chatter with Toga, you’re subtly going out of your way to place yourself in front of him. You were never around this much before. Well, maybe you were. He didn’t pay you any mind back then, but now? Now he can’t get enough of you.

He reacts when you laugh, or talk, his head turning, like a sunflower, toward the light you give off. Ugh. His only hopeful reprieve from this, from you, is the changing seasons. The days are getting shorter and that heatwave is finally, finally breaking.

It’s his one comfort, his saving grace.

Yeah, he should have fucking never tossed that wish into the universe.

No, another heatwave passes over the island and it’s the worst one yet. The daily temperatures have been hitting the low 100s and the nights aren’t much better. To make matters worse, the A/C at the hideout has given up the ghost and won’t turn on at all now.

Still, Dabi’s prepared. He’d bought a secondhand electric fan a few weeks ago, and he’s grateful for the tiny slice of paradise that it grants him. It’s not as nice as your apartment, or your bed, but it will do.

He’s laying across his mattress, sweat trickling down his back and shoulders, trying to ignore that ache in his burned skin. The fan is blowing across him and he’s about to crank it up a notch when it gives out an ominous sputter.

Dabi sits up, his eyes flashing. No, no, no, no. There’s no fucking way.

The fan’s blades are slowing, that sweet, cool air dampening, drifting into the low-lying humidity that surrounds him. He yanks the plug from the wall, his staples stinging as he stands. He stomps over to the outlet and plugs the fan back in, turning on his haunches to see if the blades will start that familiar whirl.

There’s fuck all happening.

Cursing, he kicks the shitty thing over and grabs his jacket, storming down the stairs and into the night.

You’re sleeping when he slinks under your window sill, sliding the glass shut and kicking his heavy boots to the floor. It’s that sound that wakes you, and you lift yourself up, your sheets falling from your chest, revealing a bare shoulder and low cut shirt to him. Unabashed by your appearance, you wipe a palm over your eyes, rubbing the sleep away and croaking out a greeting.

“When I said you could sleep over here, I didn’t mean you could barge in at all hours. And through my window? So, that’s why the hinge looks like that.”

Dabi considers you for a moment, his blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight. You tilt your head at him and suck your teeth.

“A, oh, I don’t know, sorry, would be nice?” you scold, that alluring smile lifting your lips. He follows the line of your mouth, his thoughts hazing over, focusing on some other, darker, daydream.

“Hello?” you call, waving your hand beside your face. “Earth to Dabi. What do you want?”

That question slips him out of his stupor and he lifts his eyes back to yours. “The A/C is out. Bought a fan a few weeks ago, but the fucking thing broke and I can’t… it’s hard to regulate my body temperature in this fucking heat. You keep this place like an icebox, so I started crashing here. Wasn’t planning on coming back, but after tonight-”

“Ok, ok,” you laugh, already scooting over and flinging the covers back. “Seeing as you didn’t try any funny business last time, I guess I’ll let it slide. Just, not to be rude, but shut up and let me sleep. I’ve gotta long day tomorrow and as enthralling as this conversation is…”

“Whatever,” Dabi mutters, slinging his damp shirt over his head and pacing over to the side of your bed. You blink up at him and shake your head, that tiny grin lingering. He presses into your familiar sheets, eyes already slipping closed as the fragrance of you pulls at him.

It’s early when he wakes, shuddering out of a nightmare, red flames and crying voices fading into the back of his mind.

Wincing, he raises a hand to his eyes and pulls at his face, relieved that it’s still cool air that meets him. As he rolls to his side, he feels something trace over his unscarred chest. The sensation makes him freeze, his eyes snapping open again, the cerulean searching, whisking over the dim figure beside him.

You’re still sleeping, but you’ve shifted, your body curled, facing him, and one of your hands is reaching toward him. Shit, he thinks, heart pounding in his ears. You’re so close.

He’s never been this close to you.

Your mouth is parted, delicate lips plush and soft in the early morning gloom. He tries to shift away, but your brow creases when he does, so he stills his movements, gritting his teeth and trying to ignore that flush that is building across his nose.

This is stupid. It’s just you. It’s not like the two of you have even done anything. Fuck, you barely talk with one another.

He burrows his head into his pillow and the shift of his body urges you closer to him, your hand opening and pressing to his skin. A sigh slips from your mouth as your fingers splay out, tapping against his warmth, and he nearly startles off the bed.

He looks down at your hand, aghast. He wants to move it off of him; can’t stand that you’re touching him, he tells himself, that you’re this close to him. But he can’t bring himself to move. Your hand is so delicate, so…

Unconscious, you turn from him, your fingers lifting on their own, curling back to you. Dabi almost moans as you slip from him, clamping down on the sudden, primal desire that races through him. He wants to grab you; to drag you back to him.

The hell? What the fuck is wrong with him?

Sucking his teeth, he turns over, facing away from the confusing neediness that’s lapping at his subconscious. He fluffs his pillow aggressively, trying to drown out all the raw emotions that are racing through his mind.

Forget it. Sleep.

When he wakes again, you’re gone.

The sheets where you slept are cold under his fingertips and he sits up, his arms resting on his knees. This whole situation is so fucking weird.

He lets himself ease into consciousness before standing and stretching out the leftover kinks in his muscles; stooping to grab his discarded shirt, pulling the fabric over his head and shaking his dark head against the sunlight. Just as he’s slipping his coat on, he notices the note that’s sitting on one of your bedroom chairs. It’s got his name on it, so he snatches it up, flipping open the folded paper.

“There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge, I won’t have time to eat it. Help yourself. There’s also a spare key on the coffee table. Take it and stop jimmying my window open.”

Scoffing, he crumples the paper up, tossing it over his shoulder as he paces into your kitchen.

It’s a fucking thing now.

He’s rarely at the hideout. Why bother? You don’t seem to care if he sleeps over. Hell, you make space for him. There’s gotta be something else to it; there has to be. What kinda idiot is so fucking accommodating? You act like you’re a fucking hostel or something. Well, a hostel where there’s only one bed.

You even bought another fan. You told him you don’t like to keep the overhead one on in the cooler weather, so he can use this one for his side of the bed.

Yeah, he’s got a goddamn side of the bed. It’s fucking insane.

The other members of the League either haven’t noticed what’s going on between the two of you, or they don’t care. It’s not like either of you talk about your sleeping habits. Fuck, you still never interact with him at the hideout, content to maintain that level of professionalism.

He’s not sure why it bothers him.

One night, the temperature drops into the low 40s and he’s stretched out on your blankets, enjoying the first real cold snap of the fall, when he sees you shivering. It’s not very noticeable, what with the way you’re turned away and bundled, but it makes him tilt his head toward you, watching.

Another pass of his fan has you repeating the quake and, without thinking, he pulls you closer, one long arm wrapping around your shoulder and tugging. Startled, you fight his hold, but he calms your movements with a squeeze, grumbling about your stoic reluctance.

What’s the big deal? It’s not like you haven’t brushed up against him before. Calm down.

You quiet after that and slowly, tentatively, you lean against his bare chest, your cheek cool against his heated skin. He tucks his chin over your head and tries to keep his breathing even. He doesn’t want you to hear, fuck, feel his heartbeat; it’s slamming its way out of his throat and he gulps when your fingers pull him closer.

“How are you so warm?” you ask, your breath floating across his pectorals.

“It’s my stupid quirk,” Dabi mutters, dipping his head down to his pillow, shifting you with him. You nod against his lean muscles and your fingertips trace cool designs into his skin, lingering over his burnt patches and staples. He sighs, unable to resist the low shiver that creeps up his spine.

This is nice; too fucking nice.

He can’t do without your touch now.

Remember that thing about love and hate being sisters? Well, that hate is simmering into something else for Dabi. It’s not love, he doesn’t know you well enough, but it’s certainly not hate anymore.

He likes touching you. You’re smooth against his jagged skin and he enjoys the contrast. He’s slow when he pulls you against him, careful to not snag you against his staples, but you seem to like his heat. You’ve even started wearing less to bed, slipping out of that baggy shirt and into a thin tank top; he’s pleased that he has more of you to caress.

It’s getting harder to keep you out of his head. He can smell your perfume, even if he hasn’t seen you for days, and each time he does see you, even at the hideout, his fingers itch to press against you.

You’d laughed at his sudden, intense, interest. The hell Dabi, are you touch starved or something? You’d teased. What’s up with you? I was worried about you burning down my apartment, not you turning into some kind of cuddle fiend.

He doesn’t care what you say. He knows it’s fucking stupid, fucking dumb, that he’s this desperate. It just feels good. And there’s not much about him that feels good these days, so he’ll take what he can get. Fuck you very much.

There’s a meeting. It’s one of the ones where Shigaraki demands that everyone make their way to the bar.

Boss man has been tense lately, thrumming with some dark energy, so the room is quiet as Kurogiri elaborates on the smaller details of the mission. Your part is minimal, limited to reconnaissance with Toga. It’s boring shit, and Dabi is only half listening to any of it.

Besides, there’s something else that’s snagging his attention.

Dabi is sitting on the couch, his eyes lingering on you. You’re wearing one of his favorite outfits and the color looks good on you. It brings out your eyes. You’re questioning Spinner and Toga about the finer points of your team up. He can’t hear you from here, but that doesn’t matter, he’s still in the best spot to spy you leaning forward, perfect ass on full display.

“She’s gotten better, more adept at working undercover,” Compress’ voice shakes Dabi from his thoughts and he turns to him, a bland frown on his face.

“Who?”

“Please, you know who I’m talking about. You can’t stop looking at her.”

He chortles, his laugh a sharp bark. “You’re fucking joking. Her? Fuck, no. I’m gonna head out, not like the boss has anything for me anyway,” Dabi stands, slipping his hands into his trench coat and pacing to the heavy door, shouldering his way into the night.

He leans against the brick wall, lighting up a cigarette and sighing a thin line of smoke into the chilled air. Fuck, they’re noticing what’s going on. Wait. What is going on? It’s not like the two of you are fucking. Yet, a small voice echoes in the back of his mind, and he smirks at that thought.

Yeah, maybe it’s time to speed things up.

You step out a few minutes later, your eyes searching for him. He flicks his cigarette onto the pavement and wraps his fingers in your coat, tugging you to him. You don’t fight him; don’t make a sound as he pins you against the brick, his body hot against your front.

The two of you watch the other, his cerulean eyes roving over your face. Then he’s lifting your chin, his lips sliding across yours. It’s a strange kiss. Usually, he’s too busy trying to get off to focus on his partner. He rarely kisses anyone, even if he’s hooking up. But this kiss?

Like everything else about you, it’s fucking nice.

You move with him, your body surging from the brick, breasts flattening against his chest, fingers cupping behind his ears; nipping and sucking at him, your teeth digging into his burned lower lip and pulling. You’re encouraging him to touch you next, rubbing yourself on him until his hands fall to your hips. He’s already half hard, and that warm juncture of your thighs isn’t helping matters.

To his shock, he’s having trouble keeping up.

You’re already pulling from him when he dips his tongue into your mouth. He gasps at the emptiness, that chilling vacancy that your touch leaves him panting into. Before he can bemoan your absence, you’re kissing at his neck, lifting on your tiptoes to reach the staples on the side of his face. You lick at him, your wet tongue dragging over his burns. He trembles under your hands and you smile, your laugh bright.

Snarling, Dabi yanks your head back and you meet his hazy gaze, biting your lip; pantomiming a wonton innocence. Immediately, he’s pushing you into the brick, his hands cupping and lingering until you’re whining for him. That’s fucking better, he thinks, his teeth worrying against your pulse.

Just when he’s got you where he wants you, your hand snakes between the two of you, pressing against the bulge of his dick. Dabi can’t help his sharp intake of air, and his head falls to your shoulder as he ruts into your palm. You keep kissing at the side of his face, your lips roving over his ear as you tug at his covered dick. You’re saying something, but he can’t focus when you’re doing that.

“Dabi,” you try again, teeth ensnaring his destroyed earlobe, sucking at the burnt skin. “They’re about to come out.”

He knocks your hand away from his straining, throbbing length and leans away from you. Fuck, you look good.

Your lips are swollen, and your eyes are dazzling. He can’t pull himself away. You smile at his dazed expression and lift a hand to his cheek, your palm cool against his overheated skin.

The door shudders open and the two of you spring apart. A few minutes later Toga is grabbing at your arm and pulling you down the street, away from him.

He’s waiting outside your apartment, another cigarette smoldering to ash under his lips. But he can’t bring himself to go in.

Not without you.

Toga’s kept you busy. It’s been over an hour since that kiss in the alleyway. He’s cooled off since then, but that simmering heat that you elicited from him? That hasn’t dimmed. He’s still half hard against his dark pants and he can’t bring himself to care. Besides, Dabi has a very specific idea about how he’s going to have you lessen that pressure for him.

He’s just about to light another cigarette when he sees you.

You walk into your building, and he starts the long climb up the fire escape. His heart is pounding again. He hasn’t wanted something this badly in ages. He’s been so fucking focused on his cause, on making his plans a reality; he just hasn’t had the time.

But now? Fuck, he wants there to be more hours in the day. He’s hoping the two of you can pick up where you left off. Yeah, he tells himself, scaling the last few steps, it’s just about the sex.

That sounds better than saying what he really wants.

You’re already slipping your oversized sleep shirt over your head when he lifts your window. You pause, watching him curl his way into your space. Once he pulls his legs inside he turns to you, his eyes dark, unfathomable, the blue so deep that you feel you’re drowning in it.

He doesn’t shut the window. Instead, he yanks his clothes off, clattering them against your floor. You smile and a gentle laugh makes its way to him.

“What did I say about coming in through the window?” you chuckle, already lifting your arms for him.

He’s against you in a single breath, his warmth seeping its way into your chilled skin. His lips are rough, pressing and lifting, biting and nipping. He’s working you toward your bed and once your knees hit the edge of your mattress, he’s shoving you down.

You flop against the cold blankets, your legs already spreading for his hips. He’s hot, scaldingly hot, against your hands. Your fingers dip into his hair and you pull him back, earning a low growl and his flashing glare, displeasure written all over his face.

“Slow down,” you scold, your legs wrapping around his hips, grinding against the hardness you find.

“The fuck? You goddamn tease. Fucking saying that, then rubbing your wet pussy all over my dick,” Dabi snarls, snatching your wrists and pinning your hands beside your head.

“How do you know it’s wet?” you ask, batting your eyes at his steeled jaw.

“It fucking better be,” he groans, his teeth sinking into your neck and pressing, hard.

You gasp at the stimulation and arch for him, testing his hold on your wrists. Grunting, he licks a wet line to your pulse, his hands tightening over yours. “Mmm, why don’t you find out?” you ask, leaning into his lips, loving the contrast of his destroyed and perfect skin.

He shifts his grip on you, yanking your arms up, pinning your hands above your head. He lifts one of his own hands away once he’s satisfied he’s got a good hold on you. His warm fingers trace down your side, pausing when he gets to the lacy band of your panties. Teasingly, he pulls fabric away from your skin, and lets it snap against your hip. Dabi tips his nose into the curve of your neck and shoulder, taking a deep drag against you.

You buck your hips, squirming under his weight. “You get lost? My pussy is a little further down.”

He chuckles darkly, his breath making you shiver. You’re just about to wriggle from him when one long finger eases past your panties and presses into your sopping heat. “Oh,” you gasp, your eyes rolling back. It feels like he’s heated his fingertip, and the skin that’s stroking and thrusting into you is warm, too warm.

Dabi leans away from your neck, bracing himself above you with his knees, pulling himself into a hunched position. He’s smirking at your awed expression and his teeth glow in the darkness.

“Like I said doll, you’re already so fucking wet for me. You want more?”

You nod and buck your hips, digging that finger deeper. He groans at your eagerness and you can feel him warming the next digit up, the tip burning against the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

Once it’s in, he starts to v the two, dragging them along your rippling walls, spreading you open, easing you into his hand. Your slick is sliding down your legs and seeping into the sheets. Still, Dabi keeps on, maintaining that steady stretch. It starts to sting and you shift away, but he releases your wrists, free hand moves to your hip, stilling you.

You glance up at him, curious. His eyes are hooded, the blue a velvety sapphire. He looks like he’s holding himself back from something. Almost like… like he’s handling you with more care than he’s ever given anything. It’s a strange thought, but the idea of it makes you reach for him, your fingers running down his discolored skin, lingering over the staples and piercings.

“I’ve gotta stretch you out,” he informs you, his eyes closing behind his trembling eyelids, savoring your gentle caress.

“Hmm, you that big?” you joke, fully expecting him to react, to silence you with a kiss or another well-timed thrust of his fingers. But he surprises you. He opens his eyes and fixes you with a rough stare, his digits continuing that aching pull. You’re throbbing around him, your arousal easing his passage, his extensions.

“I don’t want to… hurt-” he stops, his eyes narrowing. With an inaudible sigh, he slides down your body, only halting once he’s face to face with your sleek cunt. His breath heaves against you and you wrap a leg over his back, holding him close.

Dabi laves his tongue over you, latching onto your pulpy clit and giving it a soft suck. Your hands sink into his hair, curling into the spiky tendrils, urging him to give you more.

He rewards your needy moans with another lick and he flicks his eyes up to yours, watching you over your shaking curves.

“I’m going to add another finger,” he tells you, preparing you for another deep stretch. When he enters you almost pull from him, your hips bowing away at the pricking of pain. Sensing your distress, he keeps his lips around your pulsing clit, distracting you with kisses and low blows of air.

Finally, you can feel yourself loosening. Your feet brace against your bed and you use the leverage to maneuver him deeper. You feel, you feel so…

Dabi, realizing that your cunt is quivering around his intruding digits, shifts closer, his piercings rubbing against your thighs. He’s sloppy now, less controlled. His tongue is circling your clit with furious laps and he lets a canine trace the bud. His fingers are still spreading and he’s found that spongy spot now. He taps against it, teasing you, making you clench and gasp around him.

Just when you think you can’t take it anymore, when it seems like all the sensations are too, too, much; it snaps. The coiling in your core pulls free and you’re moaning, so loudly you’re worried your neighbors will hear. His name is falling from your lips at a rapid rate and you can feel his smirk as he lifts his fingers from your cunt.

Dabi leans away and you shake at the loss of him. He was so warm, so hot against your damp skin and you miss it. He watches you, tucking his fingers into his mouth, lapping the final bits of your release from him.

“Take off your clothes,” he demands when he’s finished, his hands already dropping to his tented boxers, slipping the elastic down his trim waist.

You shift to obey, your hands yanking your shirt, bra and soaked panties off of you. You splay under him, indolently admiring the sight that is revealed to you. Oh, you think, unable to contain your small gasp, he is big.

His cock is long, thick, and curved, and it’s dripping with pre-cum. There’s a crossed set of piercings at the tip of his length and you watch, mesmerized, as a shimmering strand of his arousal catches on the shiny silver, leeching down the smooth length of him. He’s bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, and that thought makes you shiver with anticipation, and a small sliver of worry.

Dabi grins wildly at your flushed face. “Like what you see?”

You nod, and he laughs, fingers snatching your legs, tugging you toward him. You spread for him, so eager and fucking turned on you can’t think straight. His hand lowers to his cock, and he strokes himself as he rechecks your silken cunt, gathering some of the gossamer strands of your arousal on his fingers as he ensures that you’re ready to take him.

“I’m not going to go slow,” he warns you, his eyes lifting from your folds.

Gulping and biting your lip, you nod, a shaking exhale escaping your lungs. He shifts himself nearer and begins to press. He’s right, you think, wincing at the sting of his intrusion. He’d stretched you out, licked you until you were leaking all over the bed, but it hurts.

It takes him a moment to bottom out. Once he does, he groans and gasps above you. “Fuck (Y/N), you’re so damn tight.”

You flop your head against your pillow and let out a long sigh. He’s holding still as you adjust, and, despite his warning, he’s being careful with you. It makes your chest squeeze. After a few more pained breaths, you can feel a low tingling radiating from your core. It’s like an itch. Experimentally, you cant your hips, your legs wrapping around his waist, cautious of the stapled skin across his lower back.

Dabi mutters a soft curse and pulls back, his length sliding out of your drenched pussy. When he glides back in, you feel that same tingling sensation. Distantly, you realize it must be those piercings of his, but you’re too overwhelmed by the sensation to process it fully.

“Hold on,” he groans, his hands bracing beside your head. You lace your arms around his bowed neck, and he starts to pounds into you. It’s a calculated motion, but- ah- he’s taking the extra second between his powerful pulls and thrusts to scrape his pelvis against your pulsating clit, stimulating you, ensuring that dim blaze pleasure within you keeps building. Whimpering, you arch your back, your ankles locking around him, encouraging him to keep going. You feel so good, so full, filled to the brim and practically begging him for more.

Sloppily, his mismatched lips find yours and he nibbles and kisses at you. The sheer heat of him is making you both slick with sweat. You don’t mind the salty, dampened feeling, if anything, it eases his motions.

You’re so wet now that he’s gliding easily into you; that piercing of his heating up, and the rapid fire thrusts he’s giving you create a smoldering inside you; like he’s catching you on fire from the inside out.

His hips stutter and he lifts one hand from the bed, his thumb easily finding your clit. He presses a tight circle across you and you see spots.

“Come on,” he groans, his voice hoarse, strained, “cum for me (Y/N). Fucking cum on my dick.”

That desperation in his tone is all that it takes.

Seconds later, you’re arching and shaking so much that he has to hold you still. He eases into you a final time, his frantic thrusts slowing, spacing out as he enjoys your rippling channel, and the fiery feeling of his own release almost hurtles you over the edge again. You curl against him, panting into his burnt ear, licking at the damaged skin.

Dabi leans heavily against you, one large hand pressing into your lower back, lifting you to him. Once he comes back to himself, he kisses at your shoulder, his warm breath making you shiver. He eases himself out of you and your legs clamp together, holding his cum inside you. It still feels so, so hot, and you’re not ready to let it drip out of you, not yet.

He untangles himself from you and adjusts some of his staples, wincing against the sting of his marred and clean flesh. Realizing what he’s doing, you slip from the bed and pad into your bathroom. You clean yourself off and grab a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, dampening a clean cloth with the solution.

“Here. It’s got some peroxide on it,” you tell him as you reenter the bedroom, tossing the rag his way. He catches it easily, dabbing it over himself, careful to not snag it on any of his loose skin. While he’s busy doing that, you snatch up his discarded white shirt and sling it over your head. He looks at you and scoffs.

“What’s wrong with yours?” he asks, tossing the cloth onto the floor.

“Yours looked better,” you inform him, returning to his side and leaning close. He rolls his eyes at you and you shift into his open lap, straddling his hips. Grinning, you kiss at his neck again, sneaking a few groans from him. Sighing as you give him a particularly hard nip, he bats you off of him, tumbling you down to the sheets.

“Give me a fucking minute,” he complains, shaking his head as you wrap around him, pulling him into your arms. Once he’s settled onto the bed you turn, pressing your back to his chest, relaxing into the familiar hold. He snorts, amused by your sudden change of mind.

Dabi lowers his forehead to the back of your head, a small smile rising along his lips. Your breathing evens out and he listens to the sound, trying to memorize each little detail of you.

Yeah, this is it, he tells himself as he drifts off. The rest is just extra. Oh, it’s nice, to be sure, but this, this right here is what he really wants.

Notes: Soft, soft Dabi. I like him like this ꒰ ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱ ˖°

Tags: @evesmores, @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx

#dabi #toya todoroki #i can put that #like omg #bnha smut #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #toya x reader #toya x y/n #toya x you #tw: blood #tw: gore #tw: dabi #tw: heat play #answered asks #asks

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childish-ish · 3 years

Note

Yoo! *hands you subway sandwich* I absolutely loved the soulmate AU with Micheal making choices for each other. And I was wondering (if you can/want) what would it be like for Billy Lenz.

hii *fucking devours subway sandwich* thank u so much i love u <3 i would love to write for him! sorry if hes ooc :<

sorry it took so long too, i thought it said lOOMIS AND I LOOK BACK AND IT SAYS LENZ LMFAAAOOOOOOOO then i procrastinated xd its super awkward and weird, im sorry!! i tried- i was on major fucking writers block!!

bro u made me eat a bug dont talk to me

soulmate au.. makin choices fo eachother..

billy lenz x reader

also, just imagine like. a party right before christmas and they dont call the police to help them rather do it themselves, but then 1 girl calls and they're on their way at the end.. ya dig? ALSO I KNOW ITS HIS HOME BUT I DIDNT HAVE AN IDEA SO xd

"Hello?" You answer the phone politely, looking over your notes before closing the book as you wait in silence for a reply on the other line. "Hellooo?" You drag out the 'o' in hello.

"Y/n? Hey, hows'it going. Listen i have this party goin' on and I know you don't have jack-shit to do, so, why don't you come on over?"

Barb! Ah, that bitch.. should i? You thought over the pros and cons as Barb waited impatiently on the other line.

soulmate chooses: go to party.

"Yeah, I'm coming. Streets?" You ask, opening your notebook back up, flipping to a blank page as Barb told you the address. You hang up on the girl and rip the piece of paper off, holding it between your teeth as you lift yourself from your cushioned chair, grabbing your coat that hung on the back and quickly stuffed the address in the pocket of your coat.

eat bug or do not eat bug.

You furrow your eyebrows at the choices. Before choosing 'do not eat the bug'. What the fuck?

Of course you would choose not to eat the fucking bug. You weren't a dick. But your fucking soulmate was. You were totally gonna beat their fucking ass for choosing such choices.

You sigh, grabbing your coat on the way out. Your necessities jingling in your pockets of said coat. You shove your hand in, dragging out your keys, turning around to lock your door. Sighing once more, as you enter your car and start the ignition. You pull out the address. "Can't be too hard, can it?" You mutter, finally pulling out of your driveway.

"Hello!" You wiggle your fingers as a small wave at the unrecognizable woman who opened the door. "Hello." Sge greeted back softly. "Are you a friend of Barbs'?"

"You betcha!"

"Well, I'm Jess! It's a pleasure to meet you.. come on in!" Jess opened the door wider. You see a few other girls chatting lively. A glass or a beer bottle in their hands. You follow Jess.

"Y/n! You made it! Good job." Barb greeted you, immediately handing you a beer you watched her pop open. You grab it, took a gulp, and thanked her.

You spot an ant crawling on the counter by you. Jess and Barb began to argue softly. Background noise.. You debate on whether to wipe it up and eat it. You shake your heads of the thoughts to rid of the possibility of your soulmate choosing-

eat the ant.

You growl under your breath, crushing the ant under your index finger and wiping it off on your tongue. You swallow it with your spit.

Im totally beating my soulmates fucking ass.. you thought angrily, chugging the rest of your piss-tasting beer. Chug, chug, chug! You cheer yourself on.

soulmate chooses: chug.

You chuckle before downing the rest of your cheap beer. Barb hands you another wordlessly. A smirk planted on her lips as she watches you down another.

"You should really slow down, Y/n."

"Eeh come on, Jess." Barb rolled her eyes, tossing an empty bottle into the trashcan. "Her soulmate probably made her chug." Barb defends poorly.

"I suppose.. how about you chug some water?"

"Yeah.. that'd be best. I'm already feeling a fucking buzz!" You laugh, being the lightweight you were.

Soon. You had awoke in a extremely comfortable bed with a small headache.

"It's so quiet.." You mutter to yourself. Dragging your hand over your face before quickly pulling away, realising you already had acne that was beginning to sprout. You stare at the ceiling, glancing at the window. Still night-time. You turn your head to the nightstand. The lamp was on. A small glass of water.

"Awh." You smile at the thought of one of the girls leaving a cup of water for you, quietly closing the door behind them. You immediately sit up and chug the water, tossing in the two pills that lied on a small napkin right next to it. You swallow, lathering the pills up in your spit.

You stretch your arms over your head, before falling back onto the plush mattress layered in bedding. You sigh, before finally deciding that it was time to get up and see what was going on downstairs. If you were even upstairs.. you cant tell. Maybe you were downstairs? You continued your train of thought as you closed the door behind you politely. Not bothering to take the glass with you.

You continue down the stairs, hand sliding down the railing as you slowly step down each step, before noticing the sticky, yet not sticky liquid your hand laid in. "The fuck? Strawberry syrup, L-O-L." You lift it up to your lips, licking. Clearly not thinking as the taste registered.

"Pennies. Blood? Oops." You wipe your fingers off on your shirt, quickly continuing down the stairs. "Baaarrrb?!" You call out, awkwardly. "Oh. Who's the shit-face drunk lying on the floor." You step closer towards the dining area. "Barb? You fucking drunk." You snicker.

soulmate chooses: kick her.

You do so. Not like you had any choice yourself. Kicking her lightly in the stomach, you step away. "What the fuck?!" You shriek, slapping the hand that was placed in your shoulder. You turn around to face a rugged man in a dark sweater and black pants. no shoes? Yet socks on his feet.. "Who are you?!"

The person before you didn't answer before lifting up a single hand thay held a.. glass unicorn? The tip of the horn was covered in a red substance. You could only assume strawberry syrup once more.

"Murderer!" You shriek, grabbing the lamp next to you and chucked it at the offending man who barely dodged it. He screamed back in response before lunging at you; successfully tackling you to the carpet rug.

"I can't believe you, are my soulmate.. well no, i can." You place your index finger on your chin in a thoughtful manner as you stare at the ceiling. "Are you?"

"billy made you eat an ant." he snickers horridly in your ear.

As, Billy, with the biggest cock known to man, squabbled and licked the shell of your ear, muttering about pigs and boobs and pussies, you nod to yourself.

"I can just hand you over to the police, no problem." You hug yourself. "But could I, really? My soulmate. Who has killed people.. Barb. God, you fucking cunt!" You screech, rolling away from him, just to jump back on the wide-eyed motherfucker, wrapping your hands around his neck and your cunt being right over his crotch. Haha.

He gasped for air, short, uneven nails scratch at your hands.

Tables were turned, and you were back on the floor with Billy over you, screaming out profanities.

"I'm sorry, Billy." You apologize falsely. Tears streaming down to your ears, since, you were on the floor.. gravity? "You killed my friend, man. I didn't even know her that long!"

Billy leans over and licks the tears away. You flinch away, before he pulls you into his lap awkwardly, his head dipped down into the crevice of your neck and sniffed loudly before giggling to himself.

"Billy's pretty little pig. Billy's. Pretty pig. Pretty cunt. Pretty, pretty, pretty." He mutters, an odd sense of nostalgia washed over you, catching an odd scent that activated said nostalgia.

"Move bitch. Let me get fucking comfortable." You snap, pulling out of his hold and turning your body around to face him. Crotch to crotch as you wrap your legs above his own.. does this make sense? You wrap your legs around his and he crosses his legs, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you fiddle with his hair.

"Man, you are such a fucking dick. Making me do all those fucking things while i chose nice things for you.." You lay your head on his shoulder. Very much stinky, yes.

"We should dip though. Didn't one of the girls call the police while yo' dumb-fucking-ass was suffocating one?" You pull away, getting a good look at his face.

You wouldn't say he was.. handsome.. but you certainly wouldn't say he was ugly. His skin was.. a sickly pale yellow. His.. fuckimg huge brown eyes stared at you. His cracked lips were curled into a unnerving smile.

soulmate chooses: leave.

"Yeah. Let's go." You stand, offering him a hand.

Billy's blood coated calloused hand makes contact with your own. You gag, covering your lips with your free-hand. "Fucking disgusting." You mutter in disgust, enduring it for the sake of your new partner.

You shove Billy in the back of your car, slamming the door shut and sprinting to the other side, just to slip right before you put your hand on the door.

You swing it open angrily, sitting down and starting the ignition, ignoring Billy's giggles and mutters as he peers out the window like a little kid looking at snow for the first time.

break the window or tap obnoxiously.

You roll your eyes, the hint of a smile plastered onto your lips.

tap obnoxiously.

#slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasherslikebeetroot #billy lenz x y/n #billy lenz x you #billy the moaner x reader #billy the moaner #billy lenz x reader #billy lenz #black christmas 1974

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anotherhellchild · 3 years

Note

Okay so Idk if u are busy cause as we all know the world is hell right now and school is a fucking nightmare but. I have a prompt for A BakuJirou Friendship Fic. It's pretty much a fleshed out Idea that I can't put into words cause I can't write for shit anyway here it is

Baku and Jirou chilling on Jirou's room (Brotp 4 life)- she metions that she has a written song- Kids Again by Artist and Poet

She thinks it's missing something from the verses- it only has the girl's parts cause jirous a girl obvs

She thinks it needs more backing instruments

Asks Bakugou fpr help with drums cause we know he can play drums

Once he hears the song he says it needs piano (he can totally play piano, it would probs be good for the nerves in his fingers after all of the explosions) and another vocal/more verses

They write and brainstorm for a few hours or days

Thet don't know who to ask to sing the male parts

Jirou asks Baku to do them- he refuses a lot but gives- either through bribery or because he respects Jirou

Jirou shocked and personally betrayed that she didn't know Baku could sing this well (jokingly betrayed, not like this is gonna lead to an arguement)

The class finds them out- maybe Denki or Kiri could hear them.

They are all in shock that Baku can sing.

Could lead into a relationship fic- one of the class is in panic at how well Baku can sing (preferebly Kiri or Todo cause Kiribaku and Todobaku are my otps)

oooohhhh yesss!! u had me at BakuJirou!! (also quick disclaimer here: i know absolutely nothing about music or the process of making it or singing or anything even remotely close :D i sure as fuck am pretending that i do tho!)

(and yeah,, ive been gone for a bit now... sorry to everyone for that. just been really tired and drained lately,, schools kinda been kicking my ass and yeahh i wont start about it,, just sorry. thanks for the ask tho! i appreciate people still coming here to talk even tho i haven’t rly been around )

ANYWAY

I love this idea! first off, i love the hc that baku can sing and that plus the bakujirou friendship is already great!

i kinda imagine that the both of them are just chilling in jirou’s room and she casually mentions she’s been working on a song. so then baku obviously wants to hear it, jirou is kinda shy but eventually shows him what she’s got so far.

now, baku being baku and all, keeps a poker face throughout the whole thing. (which makes jirou really anxious on the inside cause she cant tell what he’s thinking) But once he’s heard what she’s got so far he says its actually pretty decent (which is bakugou-speak for he likes it)

they start discussing what could be added/ what could make it better or whatever

baku adds drums and together they figure out the piano

after a day or two jirou suggests adding another voice and baku thinks thatll be good

the problem: who’s gonna do it?

after debating it for a bit- (mostly just them wondering if any of the boy’s in class even have the ability to sing and THEN wondering if jirou even has the nerve to ask them to help out)

-jirou eventually says something along the lines of: “well,we dont even know if it’d sound good in the first place so maybe you could just sing to test it out, then we’ll see after that.”

bakugou does not agree

jirou offers him a free meal in exchange

bakugou finds that such an offer would be too wasteful to reject so he reluctantly agrees

now, jirou isnt expecting much at all. her goal here is not to find the voice for her song, its just to see if a male voice fits nicely. she’s kinda expecting some off key pitches and false notes, she figures she can just fix it up a bit with auto tune later. this is just a test after all.

but then. ohhohoo THEN.

bakugou sings, he fucking s i n g s

jirou is lucky she’s already sitting on the floor because she’d have been floored

she really was not expecting this, so much so that she’s literally frozen to the ground.

bakugou, who cannot handle compliments, kinda stares at her suspiciously when she tells him he’s amazing.

after the initial shock, a lot of grumbling, a lot of convincing (on jirou’s part), more grumbling and eventually another bribe; bakugou agrees to sing the other part of the song.

they work on it the rest of the day

that evening, jirou’s kinda humming the song out loud in the common area. people notice.

naturally, chaos ensues

at least half of the class is around (baku included) they convince jirou to let them listen to the song (baku excluded, not that he minds tho. its her song)

theyre all very impressed and excited etc etc

someone wonders who the other voice was? it’s amazing just like jirou’s own!

jirou tells them its bakugou

theyre all floored

literally frozen to the ground

seriously, there is ice at their feet.

Is.. todoroki.... blushing?!

#sorry this was pretty rushed #so its not that great #but im tired #love the idea tho!!#bnha prompts #bakugou katsuki #it should be mentioned that his oblivious ass would not realize there is something going on there #lmaoo #tdbk #jirou kyouka #bnha #mha #shoto todoroki #class 1a #jirou can sing #bakugou can sing #bnha headcanons

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sgtjbbhasmyheart · 3 years

Text

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter One

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2101

Chapter Warning: Bad Language Words, tiny bit of angst

A/N: I started this on AO3 awhile ago. Now that I have a blog dedicated primarily to just Marvel/Bucky, I thought I’d add it here, too. Enjoy!

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission.

Bucky heard his phone buzz as he was tugging a butter-soft tee over his head. He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand next to his bed as he worked his arms into their respective holes.

9:36

Steve was long in bed already, so the text most likely wasn’t from him. Sam was on a me me kick-- No, what did he call them? Memes!-- of a disgruntled cat which he swore reminded him of the super soldier. He wouldn’t be surprised if it were him. Or possibly Nat. She picked up the new issue of Guns & Ammo the other day and was sending him pictures of a Mossberg MC1sc 9mm she was drooling over.

Smoothing the body of the shirt over his torso, Bucky ambled over to his bed. He snatched up the phone from the navy blue comforter and flipped it over. To his amazement, the text wasn’t from Sam or Nat. Or even Steve.

(917) 460-5480 work thing boring af. kinda tied one on. might be late meeting you tomorrow

He blinked several times at the message, uncertain how to respond. It was a wrong number, right? Bucky hadn’t made plans with anyone for tomorrow that he could remember. Plus, everyone he knew had the same work thing. And it was rarely boring.

Definitely a wrong number.

He set the phone down near the clock, choosing to ignore the text. Hopefully, whoever this person was, figured out quickly they were texting the wrong number and moved on.

Bucky pulled back the covers before climbing into bed. His body melted into the mattress, muscles relaxing for the first time since breakfast. Training had been non-stop all day today. It felt good to just be, for once.

He grabbed the book he was reading off the nightstand and opened it to the spot he left off. He cleared his mind, as best he could, and concentrated on the words on the page.

A few pages in, his phone vibrated alive again. Another text message.

(917) 460-5480 sis dont be mad youd be drinking too if you had to sit thru one of these business dinners

Bucky sighed. He had hoped his radio silence would have clued this person into their mistake. Wishful thinking. Before he could punch out a reply, another text came through.

(917) 460-5480 timmons is droning on about this new client. kill me now

He quickly typed out a reply:

(917) 308-3117 I think you sent this to me by mistake.

Bucky watched the text indicator pulse as this unknown person worked out their response.

(917) 460-5480 haha very funny sis

Bucky huffed at this person’s disbelief, thumbs working on typing out his next message.

(917) 308-3117 I’m not trying to be funny. I can’t be someone’s sister when I’m a man.

He set the phone down on the nightstand again, hoping this person finally took a hint. He opened his book back up to the current page, taking a deep breath.

The room’s silence was broken again by the loud thrumming of his phone skittering across the surface of the black wood veneer.

(917) 460-5480 how does kevin feel about this so close to the wedding???

(917)460-5480 will you still need a wedding dress or will you just get a tux???

(917) 460-5480 am i still your maid of honor???

Bucky chuckled at this girl (no, young woman) asking the essential questions.

(917) 308-3117 Your sister did not get a sex change. Yes, she will still need a wedding dress. Yes, you are still her maid of honor. Like I said before, wrong number.

An almost immediate reply came through.

(917) 460-5480 prove it

Bucky grew slightly irritated at the insinuation. Why couldn’t she take his word for it? He exhaled loudly through his nose.

(917) 308-3117 How?

A few moments passed before the device juddered in the palm of his large hand.

(917) 460-5480 selfie

Bucky blanched at the request. He could feel the color drain from his face, only to immediately heat with a blush. A selfie? That is the last thing he wanted to do.

Although he’d been exonerated for his crimes as The Winter Soldier, he still knew about the dislike people felt about him as a person, in general. They couldn’t get past the brainwashing or other persona. God knows he still struggled with it.

He couldn’t go broadcasting his face through texts to a stranger. What if she was one of those who didn’t understand he had no say in what he did or what happened to him under Hydra’s control?

What if he ignored the solicitation? He could do that. Maybe even turn off his phone.

She did seem the type to be very persistent until she got what she wanted.

True to form, another text rang through.

(917) 460-5480 i will keep texting until i see your manly face

One corner of his lips quirked higher. Yup, persistent.

He navigated to the camera app on his phone and switched it to selfie mode. He stared at the damp locks falling to his shoulders. His beard would require a trim soon, but it wasn’t scraggly. Luckily, he’d had the hindsight to shave his neckbeard in the shower earlier.

Was he considering this? Some girl says jump, and he asks how high?

He combed metal fingers through his hair, blowing out a breath.

(917) 460-5480 im waiting

Bucky growled at the text, running a hand over his face. “Okay, okay. Give me a second,” he said to his phone. He held it up to head height, half an arm’s length away.

Click!

He previewed the picture, assuring himself it didn’t reveal too much. It was, somehow, off-center, containing a bearded chin and half a smirked mouth, one nostril, and a half-lidded eye.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Bucky pulled the messaging app back up and then sent off the picture. He tossed the phone aside, not wanting to watch the taunting blinking dots as he waited for a reply.

The picture was barely recognizable, but someone like Steve or Nat could tell it was him. It would be okay. No one would know.

His phone vibrated violently near him on the bed. Bucky cautiously plucked the device up, debating whether he wanted to read her reply. What if it said, “Holy shit! You’re The Winter Soldier!”? The hope of this woman thinking he was just some regular guy knotted up his stomach. He didn’t know why he cared so much about whether this stranger thought he was The Soldier or not. He had no control over who believed the lies perpetrated as truth through the media. He could only wish for the best.

He blew out the breath he was holding in and eyed the phone’s screen.

(917) 460-5480 is it fair to say men shouldnt be allowed to have long eyelashes??

Bucky laughed and immediately thought of poor Steve.

(917) 308-3117 You should see my buddy’s. The girls swoon and complain at the same time.

He quickly added to the message thread:

(917) 308-3117 Am I correct to assume you believe I’m a man and not your sister?

The response was swift.

(917) 460-5480 oh shit ur not my sister

(917) 460-5480 this isnt 9173083447?

Bucky laughed again, the tension in his chest slowly unfurling.

(917) 308-3117 Unfortunately for you-- no.

(917) 460-5480 ugh im such an idiot sorry for the shit i said

(917) 308-3117 Don’t worry about it. I had a good laugh at your expense.

(917) 460-5480 oh god now i feel like a bigger ass

Bucky suddenly felt like backpedaling. He hadn’t meant for her to feel bad about her mistake. It was cute in a roundabout way.

(917) 308-3117 Please don’t be embarrassed. It was the highlight of my night.

(917) 460-5480 me forcing u to prove ur a man was the best part of ur night??

Bucky thought for a moment. Was it the best part? The training sessions had become monotonous lately, even with the new agents. The team hadn’t been on any missions in a few weeks, so it was pretty accurate to say he was bored around the compound.

(917) 308-3117 I suppose it was. Work’s been a little slow, and there’s only so much training you can do before it becomes tedious.

(917) 460-5480 training? r u in the military? ooh, r u an athlete??

A laugh bubbled up from his chest. It was comical to see her try to guess his profession. His selfie hadn’t announced who he was to her after all.

(917) 308-3117 Something like that.

(917) 460-5480 so mysterious! r u some assassin who needs to keep his identity secret? is that y ur selfie only showed a quarter of ur face??

He paled at the implication. Maybe she did know and was yanking his chain. How did he block numbers again?

Another text came through from the mystery woman:

(917) 460-5480 not that i mind u have a luscious mouth

Bucky guffawed at the comment as flames rose beneath the skin of his cheeks. He hadn’t remembered blushing this much in such a short amount of time in decades.

(917) 308-3117 How much have you had to drink tonight, doll?

(917) 460-5480 doll?? what r u my grandpa??

He chuckled again. God, he was old enough and then some.

(917) 460-5480 enough to not want to shoot my brains out but not enough to know this dinner isnt a party

(917) 308-3117 Maybe you should get back to your dinner? I don’t want to get you into trouble.

He regretted the text the second he pressed send. Was he trying to get rid of her? No. Or was he looking out for her? This person he knew nothing about. She was more entertaining than the recurring nightmare he’d been having for the last week, that's for sure. He'd cling to this unknown to avoid slipping into that black abyss.

(917) 460-5480 aww does the military-trained assassin athlete mchottie not want to talk with me anymore?? 🙁

(917) 308-3117 No!! I’m honestly concerned you’ll be reprimanded if you pay more attention to your phone than Timmons.

The last thing Bucky needed was to feel more guilt, especially if it was at the expense of someone’s livelihood. His shoulders were already heavy enough.

(917) 460-5480 thats sweet but dont worry ur pretty little head over me timmons wouldnt last a day w/o me

(917) 460-5480 timmons may be the boss but i run that office

He simpered at her swagger. He could only imagine what kind of office she worked in because, again, a total stranger. Did he want to get to know her more, or was this a one and done thing? Would she wake up tomorrow and want to continue the conversation or blow him off for the drunken mistake her first text had been?

Bucky stared at his phone for several more minutes, pondering precisely what he was doing and what his expectations of the night were. It’s not like he was going to meet her in person, right? Was he that delusional? He was an Avenger now. He didn’t get a social life. Not that he had one before but still.

He was startled from his reverie as the phone shook in his hand.

(917) 460-5480 did i scare you away??

(917) 308-3117 No. Just thinking about tomorrow.

(917) 460-5480 shit a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie must have a lot to prepare for mentally ill let u get ur rest

He smiled at the gesture. If only she knew.

(917) 308-3117 Send me a text when you get home. I want to make sure you arrived okay.

(917) 460-5480 such a gentleman! i don’t want to wake u if ur asleep tho

(917) 308-3117 I doubt I’ll be sleeping, but it’ll help ease my mind.

(917) 460-5480 alright ill shoot a text ttfn

(917) 308-3117 ttfn?

(917) 460-5480 ta ta for now god u r a grandpa

(917) 308-3117 Yeah, yeah

Bucky’s mouth split into yet, another grin as he set his phone down once again on the nightstand. He picked up his discarded book and found his place on the page. After a few minutes of re-reading the same paragraph over and over, he slipped the bookmark into the gutter of the book. His mind was too preoccupied with the thought of some random girl in the city at a boring work dinner. He realized he hadn’t stopped smiling since they temporarily said goodbye.

Maybe there was a good chance this conversation would carry into tomorrow.

CHAPTER TWO

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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missmorosis · 3 years

Text

joke of the day

-> bokuto koutarou

anon asked:

heyy

so everything has been fantastic 😃. family drama, my moms family taking my dad's side even though he's an abusive jerk, my mom blaming me, my dad getting mad at me for no reason, my siblings threatening to kill me every day, my friends ignoring me because i can seem to only mess things up and make them mad, yeah all the peachy stuff. idk why i just spilled that out sorry you had to read about my useless life 😃

but could i request a drabble with Bokuto when the reader is in a situation like that and has totally given up on life? (psssh totally not me). maybe they say something like "give up on me so i can give up on myself"? joke of the day: "depression isn't a joke but my will to live sure is." If this is too much, too stupid, or if you feel uncomfortable feel free to ignore/delete! also gotta say ive binge read your works and i stayed up till like 3 yesterday morning crying over them- u da best 💗💗💗plz take care of yourself and hope you doing good!

OH LOVE I HOPE YOUVE BEEN DOING SO MUCH BETTER NOWADAYS, nobody deserves to go through any of that, and especially not you. my inbox is very much open if you ever need someone to talk to, so theres no need to feel alone alright?? nothing is ever too stupid, im here for you always please dont give up <33

if you see this please stop by and let me know how things are going :)

pairing: bokuto x reader

wc: 400

genre: comfort

tw: hints of depression

Dad jokes were Bokuto's speciality. His whole team was more than tired of the endlessly corny jokes he would crack day in and day out (Why did the chicken cross the road?" "Why, Bokuto." "Because they wanted to play volleyball with the world's best team!" "I don't think that's how it works-").

You, however, grew to love them.

"Y/N! Y/N!" Bokuto came rushing into your room one day, bursting open through the door and interrupting your not-so-productive study session. You were distracted, to say the least, by everything from your family to your friends, so you welcomed Bokuto into your room.

"Hm, Kou?"

"Boy, you're not ready for this one." His excitement made you smile. "What did snowflake-Bokuto say to Y/N? 'I must be a snowflake because I've fallen for you!'"

You scrunched your nose. "Does that even count as a joke?" He shrugged.

"How about this one," you started. "Depression isn't a joke but my will to live sure is."

He frowned. "That's- that's not a funny joke, Y/N." You laughed, almost sheepishly, not meeting his eyes. You knew the so-called joke had truth behind it.

Instead, you chose to stare at this oh-so-intriguing spot on your carpet. There was some sort of stain, perhaps from a coffee spill?

"You didn't mean that, did you?" Bokuto reached for your chin, forcing your gaze upwards. "Your will to live is definitely not a joke, okay? It's very important and I want to make sure you think that too."

"Mm," you turned away.

"I mean it. I don't think your life is a joke, and I think I know you better than anyone."

"I guess that's true, but-"

"No buts. It's not a joke, so don't say that ever again." A moment of silence passed as the two of you stared into each other's eyes, having a silent debate before you cracked. His cursed, beautiful amber eyes.

"Okay, fine. I won't." You sighed, and he smiled softly.

"Alright, then." He glanced at your desk, taking a look at what he had interrupted you from. His nose curled in disgust. "Were you doing math?" You nodded.

"Test tomorrow." Your face mirrored the annoyance in his: the mutual hatred of studying.

"Do you know why math books are always unhappy? They have a lot of problems." He smiled like a child, looking proud of himself for that one.

Lot of problems like me, you wanted to say, but you bit your tongue. Instead, you laughed.

Hm. He was already helping.

TAGLIST!! @rayeofmoonlight @kirishimas-manly-eyeliner @idontlikeyourjob @sushijimawakatoshi @bokutsumie @jesssobs @nachotrash @tsukkisberry @crystal-lilac @hannas16 @cherriesradio @elektrosonix @marissawrld @gomchan @mysterystarz @tagehaya MWAH MWAHH

#haikyuu!#haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x self insert #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto koutarou x you #bokuto koutarou x y/n #haikyuu comfort

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strawberrybabydog · 3 years

Note

the logic is that terminally online kinnie debate or whatever is happening while people are literally being killed for being black. sure perhaps you can't change the way you are anymore than people can change their socially constructed and imposed race, but your alterhumanity is not discernable on first glance from and was never a part of justifying chattel slavery and colonialism.

you have to face it, your stuggles in saneism and ableism matter but there are more important things purely due to the literal death toll they carry

u can care about both issues at the same time though, u dont have to pick "people die because of this" or "this issue only has social impact" - u can choose to care about both, and really u probably should

i'd also argue that alterhumanity being visible at first glance is definitely A Thing. my binder, tail, collar, and other gear are what make me feel most comfortable in my body, and they do put me in danger. the amount of photos taken of me in public, the stares, and people honking their horns at me are not only dangerous to me because i am visbily afab and human traficking is at an all-time high in my area. but i'm also a person who lives with persecutory delusions, so people taking photos of me, staring at me, making comments and honking their horns at me are really Not Good to say the least (sorry, it is difficult for me to go in-depth about my episodes here still, so i wont be.)

and before i get told "just dont wear your gear" please consider that i am an extremely dysmorphic person due to my species and gender dysphoria, so while this gear may appear to only behave as a Fun Cosmetic thing, this is how my gender transition looks, and it is not an option for me.

also addressing your comment that sanism and ableism matter less because "other minorities are killed more" - um, no. disabled and mentally ill people are STILL killed and abused every day. have you not heard of the nurses in senior homes who sexually abuse and kill their patients? doctors who refuse to give medication to patients who need it to survive? the fact that mentally ill people are more likely to be abused (schizophrenics are 14x likely to be victims of domestic violence btw) and the overall fact that disabled people cannot always escape abuse or be advocates for themselves because of abuse? did you know that in the USA disabled people cannot have more than 3000$ in their bank account at a time or get married lest they risk losing their disability benefits? medical abuse, financial abuse, like? just because you've never heard of a person who uses a mobility aid be physically attacked at random in the street does not mean that disabled and mentally ill people are not victims of abuse and murder either.

rest in power, Engracia Figeuroa - a disability adovcate who recently died because an airline broke her custom mobility aid and refused to replace it.

i would also really like it if people stop comparing different types of oppression on my blog please. it's counter productive and not fair to any parties involved. you will end up helping nobody because you're constantly focused on caring about "who has it the worst" when in the end, oppression cannot be compared to one another because it's relative.

#asks #idek how to tag this one #ableism #sanism

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brelione · 4 years

Text

That Just Happened (JJ Maybank X Reader)

Request:hi! can you do 22, 34, 37 from the second prompt list with jj x kook!reader and the reader is topper’s sister pls?

Being Topper Thorntons sister meant that the pogues that he fucked with would take their anger out on you.It came in different forms from all of them.JJ would flirt with you just to be annoying even if you told him to leave you alone.Kiara would glare at you until you felt like crying and John.B would exaggerate his limp after a fight.

You had talked to Topper,trying to get him to understand how bad of a person he was but he never listened to you.Him not listening to you got you to the point that you were at now.You were walking on the beach late at night,trying to sort out all of your thoughts.JJ was following close behind you and had abandoned his surfboard a while back,water dripping from his hair. “Fuck Dammit,JJ!Leave me alone!”You exclaimed,turning to face the pogue.

He chuckled,crossing his arms over his bare chest. “OOh someones feisty.”He smirked down at you.You huffed,your jaw clenching. “Im not feisty you’re just fucking annoying.”You grumbled,debating on whether or not to continue your walk.He smiled to himself as he saw your eyes wander down his chest. “See something you like?”He teased.You bit your tongue,continuing your walk.He shook his head,still following you.

“Im sorry,(Y/N).Why are you so annoyed?”He asked,catching up to you and walking by your side. “Because Topper.”You answered,not getting too specific.He raised his eyebrows,intrigued. “What about Topper?”He asked,moving so he was in front of you,walking backwards. “He hates me cause im fuckin adopted and he’s being a bitch about it.”You answered,making JJ frown. “Wait,what?”He asked.You sighed,looking up at him and stopping your walk.

“He hates me because im adopted and hes being a fucking bitch about it.”You repeated.He huffed,rolling his eyes. “No,I heard you.But you’re adopted?”JJ asked.Your jaw dropped. “Are you fucking stupid?Have you seen him?Look at me and then look at him.Literally nothing alike!”You exclaimed,making him frown. “I mean….I figured your mom just cheated or something.”He shrugged,making you laugh quietly.You lifted you soft sleeves to wipe your slightly watery eyes,feeling better now than before.

“I mean yeah,that too probably.But yeah,im adopted and I have no idea where the fuck I came from.”You shrugged,deciding to sit down in the cool,soft sand. “I also dont know my real parents or anything about them which also sucks but I dont really plan on meeting them ever.”You continued,resting your head on your hand,able to feel your quick pulse.He sat down,biting his lip. “Im sorry.”He mumbled,staring at you.You simply shrugged,looking out at the calm waves as they smacked against the pebble covered sand.

“Its literally fine,JJ.Its not your fault that my parents did what they did.Im probably from soemwhere abortions arent available in.”You replied,closing your eyes tiredly.He chuckled nervously,not knowing if you were joking or if you were being serious.You laughed with him,sighing. “I hate this world so much.”You grumbled,watching as a wave of emotions showed on his face. “What do you hate so much about it?”He asked,not wanting the conversation to die.

“Literally everything.The top one percent is causing the whole world to suffer and people can be billionaires while people are eating mud.Climate change is gonna be inevitable because of selfish people and minorities are suffering and the government isn't doing shit.”You ranted,pulling at your hair.He nodded,leaning forward. “So how can you change any of that?”He asked.You bit the inside of your cheek,grinning. “I become an assassin.”You answered confidently,making his smirk go away. “I have no idea why I like you.”He admitted,not realizing what he had said.Your eyes widened,heart beat speeding up. “The fuck?”You asked,not sure you heard him correctly.

He chuckled nervously,looking everything but you. “Um...I guess the cats out of the bag.”He spoke sheepishly,scratching the back of his neck.You held your breath,nodding. “So this is awkward.”You mumbled,pulling at your fingernails.His face flushed,becoming more nervous. “Why...um,why is it awkward?Cause if I were you I wouldn't like me either so its fine,dont worry about it.It's literally fine,im gonna go now and you have good luck with Topper.”He spoke quickly,standing up and beginning to walk away quickly.You stood up as well,trying to stop him.

“JJ!”You shouted,making him turn around with a look of dread on his face. “What?”He asked,ready for you to tell him how it wasnt how he thought and that if he was rich and handsome like other kooks you would totally go for him.He prepared himself for the speech about how you wished things were different but you were macking on Rafe Cameron.But thats not what happened,instead you approached him with your hands in your pockets,nervously chewing your lip.

“What would you do if I accidentally kissed you?”You asked,watching his eyebrows knit together,his lips scrunching together like he was about to whistle. “What?”He asked,frowning a bit.You huffed,pulling him into a kiss.He was stiff for a moment,trying to wrap his head around what was happening before calming a bit,his hands going to your hips.He groaned as you pulled away,ending everything too soon. “Whoops.”You mumbled,waiting for his reaction.He just nodded,letting out a shaky breath. “SO that just happened.Alright,thats cool.”He smiled,licking his lips.You giggled,your fingertips grazing his jawline. “Yeah,that just happened.”You confirmed.

@nas-marie-loves-u @28cnn @sexytholland @yuxsh06 @ifilwtmfc @cherryobx @poguestarkey @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @poguestyleskye @judayyyw @sunwardsss @meaganjm @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @jj-fic-recs @homophobicclownmoviestan @outerbongs @copper-boom @httpstarkey @teenwaywardasgardian @drewswannabegirl @simonsbluee @jiaraendgame

#jj maybank #jj maybankxreader #jj maybank imagine #jj x you #jj maybank oneshot #obx jj #jj x reader #jj fluff #rudy pankow #rudy pankow imagine

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re1d · 4 years

Text

different lifetime | spencer reid

→ summary: “only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.” - george elio → warnings: maeve’s death, graphic descriptions of murder, mentions of depression and drug use, basically major angst but a fluff ending → word count: 4.4k (ouchie mama she’s a slow burn) → a/n: based on no.74 from the prompt list ; “let go.” “i can’t.” // cassandra stop making spencer cry in her stories challenge : FAILED // also this is my first time using time skips n i kinda dont like it :[[ i hope u guys enjoy it tho !!

Books are ripped from his shelves, and Spencer can’t see straight. Papers fly around him as he relishes in the feeling of the pages cutting into the skin of his fingers. Blood forms and begins to drip, but he can’t bring himself to clean it up. His mom would’ve chastized him in that moment for damaging the worlds with his reckless touch. However, his whole world had just been destroyed as well. Pictures of Maeve traipse through his brain at an agonizingly slow pace; they mock him and wait for him to snap. And, he feels as though it’s finally time to do so.

Spencer screeches into the silence of his apartment, undoubtedly waking up his neighbors and possibly even alerting the police. He tears through his hair with bloodcrusted hands and debates on wrenching it out from the roots. Sitting on the floor in a puddle of sorrow and anguish, Spencer sobs. It’s the first time in his life that he’s been so consumed with grief and guilt that he can’t even muster the strength to stand. He merely clutches The Narritive of John Smith to his chest and continues to fall apart.

As tears run down his cheeks, he denies everything that happened in the last few hours. Maeve is still going to meet him after work next Wednesday.You didn’t cover him with your FBI jacket after she was shot. The blood that poured from the gunshot wound in her head was fake. It was a joke—a painful, stupid, not-at-all funny joke. Tomorrow, he would enter the office, ride the elevator up, and make casual conversation with all of his work friends. Thoughts race through his mind, and he finds himself laughing. Laughing. A voice in the back of his head tells him that he’s in shock, that he’s not well. Another voice tells him that he’ll never be well.

He doesn’t know who to believe.

A rhythmic knock on his door sounds, and Spencer pretends not to hear it. He knows it’s you. Part of him is screaming to let you in, telling him to accept the comfort you’ve come to give him. But, he decides he isn’t ready. Not yet. So, you decide to wait. For Spencer, you’d wait until time itself no longer existed.

Night approaches faster than you think. The sun is a paintbrush as it dips into the horizon and paints one of the most beautiful sunsets you’ve ever seen. It’s merely a passing thought, but you hope Spencer wills himself to see the pleasant combination of warm oranges and deep reds that are smoothed across the dusk sky. Glancing down at your watch, you read the tiny numbers with tired eyes—8:02PM—and, that’s when you realize you’ve been sitting for so long that your butt has gone numb. You register the pins and needles beginning to poke at your backside, but you make no move to stand or to leave. All you do is lean back, your head thumping gently against Spencer’s door while closing your eyes.

Spencer has no knowledge of the countless baskets of goodies from Garcia or the small notes that JJ has left behind after her short visits come to a close. He doesn’t even know that you’re still outside of his apartment. He knows nothing but the monotonous whir of his air conditioning and the smell of Thai food coming from his living room. Spencer tries to focus on anything but Maeve, but his mind is scattered, fragmented. He grows frustrated at the fact that his thoughts are moving too fast to collect. Blood. Bodies. Sweat. Tears. The feeling of your hands on his shoulders. Normally, Spencer is excellent at compartmentalizing trauma, but not this time. Not when his first true love had been so unfairly stolen from him.

Rage simmers inside of him as the clock strikes twelve. He clenches his fists, resisting the overwhelming urge to scream once more. Instead, he palms for the book nearest to him. With his original, hard cover, full-Russian version of War and Peace in his hand, he swings his arm as hard as he can at his door. Specks of dust fall from the frame at the impact, and a chip is now visible in both the book and the wood. Spencer hears a small yelp from the other side, and finally, something other than grief overtakes him. Confusion and anxiety course through him as he forces himself to stand, grabbing a kitchen knife before launching his door open.

You topple over, crushing his toes under the full weight of your upper body. Profanities are exchanged as your stare flicks nervously between his face and the butcher knife in his grasp.

“[Y/N]?! What are you still doing here?!” He means to sound angry, but the rasp in his voice does the emotion no justice. The weakness in his words is easily detected, and you find yourself studying his features from the ground. You’re profiling him, but you can’t help it. His shoulders are hunched, his five o’clock shadow has turned to six, and his eyes dart cautiously around your face. It’s as if he’s making sure you don’t see the torture his own mind is subjecting his body to.

“Well,” you begin, tone gentle, “I came to see you, but you didn’t open the door. So, I thought that I would wait you out, you know? Just to make sure that if you needed someone to talk to, that I would be there—ready to listen.”

Spencer’s expression is blank, his eyes having stopped their search a long time ago. “How would you have stayed? You have work, [Y/N]. Work that we both know doesn’t stop for time to mourn.” There’s bitter vitriol in his words; he can’t bring himself to care about how they effect you for the time being. But, you don’t mind. It’s only natural. Finally pushing yourself up from the floor, you stare through him and have to fight the need to place a hand on his shoulder, to try to connect with him. The two of you are still separated by the threshold of his door, but it feels as though the Grand Canyon itself is in between.

“Spencer, I can’t even begin to fathom what you’re going through, but—.”

“No,” his retort is clipped, “you can’t. Goodbye, [Y/N].” The door is slammed once again, leaving you stunned to to silence. Sure, you had expected Spencer to be different, but nothing like that. Torrents of rain pound against the roof of his building as dread flows steadily through you at the thought of having to step into it. Nonetheless, you collect your things and head into the office hoping to distract yourself until you’re really supposed to be in for work. The time is 12:54AM, and as you attempt to hail a taxi in the storm, a chill travels down your spine. It’s hard to tell what caused it—the thought of leaving Spencer alone or the copious amounts of coffee you will inevitably be consuming later today.

────

Eight o’clock rolls around quicker than you hope. From the corner of your eye, you spot Penelope and JJ walking in together, their normally bright faces marred with concern. Eventually, the clicking of their heels comes to a halt in front of your desk. JJ takes a seat on top of the files you’re working, moving your recently emptied mug out of the way with a tight smile. Garcia’s crosses her arms with a hmph as she stares down at you. Neither of the women are hostile—it’s moreso agressive curiosity.

“So, [Y/N] ...” JJ’s voice trails off a bit, “You saw Spence?” The nature of the question is pure. Worry is evident in her words, but as you try to answer, nothing comes from your mouth.

Garcia cups your face in her hands, squeezing your cheeks to the point of discomfort. “[Y/N]. All we wanna know is that he’s okay?” She declares, “If you perhaps could comfirm if he has gotten my muffin basket, that would also be nice—but, Boy Wonder’s safety is always first!” The chipper mask she uses to hide the pain is crumbling away, and it’s easy to see.

“Honestly, guys ... He doesn’t look good. Spencer—he, uh, his apartment is a mess, like, books everywhere, three day old Thai food in the living room. I’m worried about him—and, Garcia, he hasn’t touched anything outside his door. It’s kinda like he’s trying to fight reality.” Your explanation is obviously hard for the two women to listen to. JJ’s face is turned down, her bottom lip tucked in between her teeth. Penelope’s colorful appearance seems to dim as words continue to fall from your mouth. She gapes, evidently trying to come up with something to say, but her phone chimes.

“Jeez,” Penelope drags in a sharp intake of air, “this is a bad one. Hotch wants us in the conference room ASAP.”

Sitting around the round table, you take in the information about the case. Two people, a man and a woman, bore holes in the insides of their thighs, exsanguinated. But, there is no other chatter, no normal banter, no tossing around ideas. Only silence, and you feel as though you’re falling. Once you stand, your knees wobble and your hands shoot out to grab JJ’s shoulders. Her presence itself is an ocean of calm as she works to steady you.

“[Y/N] ... maybe you should stay with Garcia on this one? I’m sure she could use the company.” Although not forceful, JJ’s words are more of a command than anything, but you make the executive decision to dismiss them with a shake of your head. As you walk up the stairs leading to the jet, your stomach churns with the intensity of a thousand tigers.

The absolute quietude on the plane is staggering, and until Garcia’s digitalized face appears on the screen, no one dares to say a word. She briefs everyone that another body has been discovered, and Hotch moves directly onto assignments. “[Y/N] and Morgan, go to the ME and see if the blood results have come back, yet. Blake and Dave, head to the newest crime scene. JJ and I will start working with the local PD.”

As you stare out at the clouds, you wish so desperately to be one of them. Oh, to be a big ball of water and ice crystals and not have a care in the world. The sun reflects off of the white, and when you turn away from the window, you can just barely see Morgan’s form sitting in the leather seat across from you. A pensive frown is present on his lips, his eyes tracing your body, looking for something to tip him off as to what you’re feeling.

Eventually, he finds that he can’t pick you apart. It seems as though each layer he tears through, another is waiting to conceal the truth. “Alright, kid,” he starts, a light air of humor in his voice, “I’ll bite. What’re you thinkin’ about so hard over here?” To be completely honest, you’re positive that he already knows the answer.

“Spence.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Morgan crosses his arms in front of his chest. It’s a tic; he does it when he’s upset. You watch him as he racks his brain for something to change the subject to, but the sigh he omits is a signal that he’s going to try to talk to you about him. Alarm bells shriek in your head, and the sound is deafening. You force yourself to resist the urge to cover your ears, knowing that it wouldn’t do anything.

“So, kid. Even though you’re pretty good at hiding it, you need to tell me what you’re really thinking, okay? I know you saw Reid, but that’s not what I wanna know about. Something else is buggin’ you—I can tell.” He’s beating you up with each word. A punch to the gut, a kick to the face, an elbow to the side—it’s relentless. He knows something is wrong, but you can’t tell him that you’ve been in love Spencer since the third month working at the BAU. It’ll ruin you—not your reputation or your future—it’ll ruin you. Your mind, your body, your heart. Even though you ache to tell just one person, your mouth won’t let you. But, your heart seems to win the fight.

“Derek, I—,” you pause, your voice giving out, “I’m in love with him. I’ve been in love with him. And now, I don’t know what to do.” Your colleague searches for words, but he can’t bring himself to say anything. He merely stares, his mouth a thin line. Discomfort settles in the space between the two of you, its thickness is probably felt by the rest of the team on the plane. You catch JJ’s glances at the both of you, but they go unacknowledged.

────

Spencer goes through the third stage of grief alone. Bargaining. The stage where he’s in grave need to talk to someone, he is only himself. His hands shake as he pours a cup of coffee, attempting to use the caffeine to stay awake. As the sun rises, a thought in the back of his mind sounds. It tells him that he’s been wearing the same clothes for the past four days. His sweat, blood, and tears have collected on the fabric, and even still, he doesn’t care.

The only thing he’s aware of is the fact that if he wouldn’t have tried to meet Maeve, she would still be alive. He curses Blake and his innate curiosity, and he curses the fact that his first words to her were, “I don’t love you. Sorry.” He curses the feeling of your jacket over his shoulders and the immense okayness that it brought to him, even while staring at Maeve’s body splayed in front of him.

Looking around at each book on the floor of his apartment, they somehow remind him of her. Some made him want to remember her happily, others made him want to vomit up his heart and cut it into a thousand pieces. If he had only said the right thing, maybe she would still be alive. Maybe they would’ve held each other tight and moved on. Maybe they would’ve gone out for three or four years, and then maybe she would’ve gotten pregnant. Maybe there would’ve been a miniature version of him with Maeve’s smile and his eyes. Maybe he would’ve been happy.

Spencer spits up bile into his kitchen sink. Happy? He’s not even sure he knows the meaning of the word anymore. Grabbing the handle of his coffee pot, he pours and pours until the scalding hot liquid burns through his mismatched socks. Wordlessly, tears brim in his eyes. Reaching down, he plucks off the soaked fabric and merely stands at the counter, staring down into the seemingly endless mug.

His phone chirps and effectively pulls him from his trance. Although there’s plenty of time to walk over and answer it, Spencer just reads Morgan’s caller ID and lets it ring. It goes to voicemail and immediately Morgan’s words fill the empty air.

“Hey, Reid, it's Derek. Listen, I got a work question for you. The unsub's exsanguinating victims and removing their eyelids antemortem. Does that mean anything to you? Hit me back.”

Ideas are weaving in and out of the genius’ head. Trudging over to his couch, he presses the call button and waits for Morgan to pick up. It takes less than two rings before the line clicks and he’s in the presence of someone else for a change. Spencer sits in silence, not speaking until spoken to. He feels like a kid, but truthfully, he doesn’t have enough energy to say more than he needs to.

“Hey kid, you’ve got me and [Y/N].”

“Hi, Spencer.”

The sound of your voice is a drive taken at the dead of night where all you can hear is nature. It’s a thousand waves of calm. Instead of giving you both an answer, Spencer revels in the small greeting. Maybe if things were different, he would’ve fallen in love with you first.

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out at first. He debates on slamming the phone back into the receiver, but decides against it. “Have the cornea or pupils been harmed in any way?” Morgan says no. “If he's taking care not to damage the eyes, then line of sight is probably what's important to him.”

“So this guy wants them to see what he’s doing.” Morgan pauses and the whole line goes quiet. Spencer yearns to hear your voice just once more before he hangs up. And, by the grace of a seemingly wrathful God, he does. But, it’s not exactly a question he’s prepared to answer.

“Hey, Spencer ...” You trail off. It appears as though you’re thinking through your next words, but you settle on a simple inquiry. “How are you?”

“I gotta go,” Spencer replies.

The line goes dead.

────

The case ends up being solved with the help of your Boy Wonder. However, as you board the plane alongside him, it’s obvious that he doesn’t feel very wondrous. Plopping down into the seat across from him—similar to what Derek had done—you shoot him a tender grin. JJ’s shoulder rests above your head, and Morgan stands, taking up the whole aisle.

“So,” JJ begins, “I counted—what—five baskets?”

“Seven, but I think Ms. Cavanaugh next door may have taken a couple.” Her laughter mixes with yours in a melody that brightens the atmosphere in the jet. Morgan snickers in the background, but all Spencer is focused on is your smile. A pang of warmth spreads through him for the first time in a long time, even though a frown is turning his lips down. JJ and Morgan eventually migrate to their respective spots—JJ on the couch ans Morgan with his head against the wall and his earbuds plugged into his ears.

You pick up on the scowl on his features and pat the table to attract his attention. He meets your gentle gaze with hesitant eyes. “Why the long face, Doc?” It’s supposed to be a joke, but he can’t even force out a laugh. Spencer succumbs to the monster that guilt presents itself as, cupping his cheeks and pulling down on his face. He tries to rid himself of the grime, the dirt, he feels on his body, but he doesn’t think it’ll ever go away.

“I dunno,” he slurs through exhaustion, “I was just thinking about how I acted when you came over, and I-I guess ... I just wanted to apolog—.”

“Spencer.” The severity in your tone shakes him to the core. His eyes widen as his mouth comes to a close. “Don’t apologize to me. You’re grieving, it’s only natural that you’d be angry. It was forgotten after it happened, okay? I promise you—we’re good.” There’s something you want to add, and Spencer can practically feel the words itching to come out. “And, Spence? If you need anything—anything at all—please, just ask. Please.”

His mind wanders back to his messy apartment, and he ponders the thought of asking you to help him clean. His mouth moves on autopilot, speaking before he even knew what to say. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I could use some help with something.”

“Of course. Name it, Spencer.”

When the wheels hit the ground, you and Spencer sit and wait for everyone else to clear out of the jet. Morgan and JJ squeeze his shoulder on the way out, and Blake shoots him a motherly smile. The sorrow in her eyes is blatant, but it travels to the back of your mind as soon as she passes. Standing up, you gesture in front of you, allowing Spencer an exit before you head down the stairs. He offers you a ghost of a grin, and it makes your heart bound in your chest. You didn’t remember signing up to run a marathon after this case.

The short stroll to Spencer’s Volvo in spent in a surprisingly comfortable silence. It is full of shy glances and small smiles, and you can practically feel yourself falling for him all over again. Climbing into his car, you turn on the radio to a classical station. Chopin’s Nocturne in E Flat Major plays at a low volume, causing you to close your eyes and lean back against the headrest. The old car hums to life, igniting a sense of nostalgia deep in your soul. The drive to his apartment passes by in what feels like seconds, and he takes the keys and moves to open your door.

Giggling, you step out of his antique. The gravel crunches against the bottoms of your boots as you walk next to him up to his door. “So, this is the elusive Dr. Spencer Reid’s humble abode?” There’s a lighthearted teasing in your voice, “It’s cute. I like it. What d’you need me to do?” He cocks an eyebrow, looking around at the books scattered across his floor and he wonders how someone could find beauty in this. And then, he realizes that he’s standing next to you—Penelope Garcia’s closest confidant—and another question replaces it. Was there anything you couldn’t find beauty in?

“Well .... we should probably start with the books, and then, we can move on to the Thai food.” A grimace appears on his face and you laugh at the way it scrunches, “And, after that, we can talk.” The statement is more of a question, but it still makes you unbelievably jittery.

With a nod, you bend down to pick up story after story, every so often becoming enchanted by the bindings that surrounded the little worlds. Spencer crouches and pulls out a vinyl, placing it on the record player and lowering the needle. Once more, Chopin’s Nocturne in E Flat Major fills the air, the static of the record scratching every once in a while. “I noticed that you liked it in the car,” he murmurs, “I’m more of a Waltz in A Minor type of guy, but Nocturne in E Flat Major Op. 9 No. 2 is always a good pick.”

“I just love Chopin, to be honest,” you say, picking up the copy of War and Peace sitting at the threshold of his door, “his pieces are all good, really. They’re all great creating pieces, you know? Like, I could just sit, listen to them, and make up stories in my head for days.”

You’re making up one right now. It’s a sunny day, as opposed to the inky blackness outside his apartment window, and you and Spencer are walking down an ambiguous dirt path. Woods surround you as well as sounds of nature, birds sing and branches snap under your feet. There is no air of danger, and all you can feel is the warm pressure of Spencer’s hand in yours. A cool breeze kisses your cheeks, forcing you to stop and take it in. Spencer comes to a halt, his gaze shifting to you. Smiling, you both move towards each other like plants to the sun. Captivation, charm, magnetism. It’s inevitable, like the meteor that destroyed the first inhabitants of earth so long ago. You move closer and closer to one another; it feels as though you’re floating, you’re gravitating towards him—.

“You know, if you’re that fascinated by East of Eden, you could borrow it,” Spencer’s weak teasing breaks you from your reverie, and you realize you’ve been staring at the front cover for over five minutes.

“Ah, uh, no thanks. Reading Of Mice and Men in high school was enough John Steinbeck for me. Personally, I think he drones on and on about things for too long,” you grin while shelving the book. He hums an acknowledgement and picks up a paper container full of week old pad thai, the smell forcing his head in the other direction.

Soon enough, there are only four, thick novels left, and you two are standing side by side at the bookshelf. You gawk at the number of collections and volumes that reside on the freshly dusted wooden panels, eyes wide. Spencer has one hard cover in his hands. It’s in pristine condition, the white of the jacket glaring at you with a vindictiveness that only the dead can muster. Maeve’s memory is held in between his palms, and it becomes hard to watch him struggle with the thought of having to put it away.

“Spencer ...” Your voice is feathery as it rides on the heavy air, “Let go.”

The words are broken as they fall from his mouth. Tears drip gently onto the glossy cover, and it seems as though The Narritive of John Smith is crying along with him. “I can’t.” A sharp pain pierces your entire being. Seeing him so vulnerable, so fractured, is agonizing. He cries over the story, repeating the tale of his whirlwind romance over and over again in his head. Reaching out, you urge his hands towards the only remaining space on the shelf. The book slips in effortlessly, and Spencer collapses to his knees in front of it. His hands are limp by his sides and his head hangs low between his rounded shoulders.

You lower yourself to meet his figure on the ground. He doesn’t move, his spirit completely dulled. As you ghost your hands over his back, he leans into your touch. After depriving himself of physical contact for so long, he wallows in the feeling of your fingers rubbing soft patterns into his skin. Spencer allows himself to sink into your embrace, inhaling the sweet combination of vanilla and jasmine.

For some time, Spencer cries into your chest. He apologizes through his sobs for the darkening spot on your work shirt, but you quiet him each time with a shake of your head. The atmosphere in his apartment lightens to the point of comfort as you do nothing but hold him. It’s poetic, really—something that you’d listen to a Chopin piece to.

“In a different lifetime,” Spencer’s hoarse whisper is barely audible over the quiet buzz of his air conditioning, “I would’ve fallen in love with you first.”

You contemplate his statement, mulling it over in your mind with a giddy optimism not quite suitable for the situation. He can tell you’re thinking over his words, but he doesn’t comment on the length of time you spend with them. A significant amount of time passes before you offer him a small nod that he feels when your chin collides with the top of his head. Smoothing a hand down his curls that are already slicked with grease, you open your mouth to speak.

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you murmur, hugging him closer, “I’ll be waiting. Always.”

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