#‘have you ever seen feet move at this medium pace?’

[blackladynerd]

Not Nadja in a dance battle with 80s breakdancing vampires 😂

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Not Dead Yet | Part 03

-> Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x Medium-Fem!Reader

-> Synopsis: After a strange encounter, Jeonghan wakes up outside of his body. The only person who can see him is Y/N, a woman with a gift (or curse as she would call it) who is able to see and communicate with the deceased. But Jeonghan isn't dead... not yet anyway.

-> Warnings: Paranormal au. This is a work of fiction and in no way does it represent the guys or their families. A quick mention of an affair. I had to split this chapter in half because it was getting too long. Jeonghan's birthday part is in part 04.

-> Word Count: 2,129

-> Taglist: Open until series is completed. Leave a comment on the masterlist post, send an ask or fill out the Tag List Form.

Not Dead Yet Masterlist | Jeonghan Masterlist | SVT Masterlist

As Y/N exits the hospital, she tries to ignore Jeonghan as he follows behind her from a distance. The temptation to look back at him, is overwhelming, her mind swirling with so many unanswered questions. Quickening her pace, she's determined to put as much distance between them as possible until she finds those answers. But if the God's are involved, like he suggests, she's unsure if she wants to get involved in whatever business they have with him.   

She pauses at the edge of the hospital boundary line. Giving in to the urge to look back, she finds him standing under the awning of the hospital entrance. Guilt washes over her as she takes in the sad and lost expression on his face and the aura he gives off. She can’t imagine what he’s thinking and feeling and wishes there is a way she could help him. But, no matter how intrigued she is by his predicament, she certainly doesn’t want to be meddling with whatever God is involved. It’s bad enough that she has to deal with the ghosts.  

Her mood only worsens as she turns back around, leaving the hospital grounds. The moment her feet touch the footpath outside the boundary line, the once beautiful cloudless blue sky turns dark and grey, giving her an eerie feeling. The first sign of raindrops splatters against the concrete only for it to start to pour down as if the heavens above opened its floodgates, not even a second later.  

Using her bag as a poor attempt to shelter herself, she rushes towards the bus stop just up the road. Soaked head to toe, her heart sinks when she arrives at the bus stop and sees a crowd of people huddled together underneath the small structure, leaving no room for her. “Goddamn it,” She mutters under her breathe, searching for another place close by.  

Out of nowhere, the rain suddenly stops pouring down on her. She looks up to see an umbrella, the plastic material transparent, giving her a view of the dull sky and the blurred surroundings. Turning her head to her right, she finds a man dressed strangely in a purple floral top with green pants, brown suede shoes, a black fedora and the bulkiest gold jewellery she’s ever seen. He’s holding the umbrella for her, allowing himself to get soaked by the downpour of rain.   

“That’s quite an odd sight,” he says before she can respond to his kindness, his tone gentle and warm. She’s uncertain if he’s talking to her or just speaking aloud. Initially, she looks up at the sky thinking he’s referring to the sudden rain, but then he continues, glancing at her, “the cherry blossoms have bloomed earlier than usual this year.”  

She looks at the cherry blossom tree across the street. “Huh, I never noticed until now,” she says now thinking about it. It is unusual for them to blossom this early. She looks back to him, watching as the rain droplets drip off him. “You know we can both fit under the umbrella, right?” She says moving the umbrella to cover them both. “I’ll feel bad if you end up catching a cold.”  

“I’ll be fine,” he says unphased. “Plus, it’s not me you should be worried about,” he adds and looks towards the hospital.   

She follows his line of sight to see he’s looking in the direction of the hospital entrance. Glancing back at the man with confusion, it quickly turns to one of disbelief when she finds he is nowhere in sight. Her cheeks quickly flush red when instead, she finds two elderly ladies looking at her as if she’s lost her mind. She bows politely before turning her attention to the bus that’s approaching their stop.  

When the bus stops, Y/N waits for everyone to get on the bus before getting on herself. She hears the two old ladies mention her talking to herself and speculating there is no ring on her finger as she steps on to the bus. Taking the seat behind them, she leans forward so only the two women can hear her, “Halmeoni,” she says looking to the one wearing the blue vest, “Min-Joon wants you to know that he does know about the affair you had with Seok-Hyun,” she looks at the other woman, who looks just as astounded as the other. “I believe Seok-Hyun is your husband and still very much alive,” she adds and looks to the ghost of the elderly man sitting beside her. “Did I get that right?” she asks him. He nods glaring daggers at his widow.  

The two women start arguing between themselves as Y/N leans back in her seat, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. Sometimes the dead came in handy.  

“Jihoon-ah!” Y/N calls out to her roommate she knows is home as she enters their small apartment. She places the umbrella in the stand, her bag on the hook and slips off her shoes, sliding her feet into the house slippers. She makes her way into her roommate's bedroom when she gets no answer. There she to finds him wrapped up in his duvet, laptop on his lap, headphones on and staring intently at the screen. She waves her hand to get his attention and he takes his headphones off.  

“Have you been in here all day?” She asks him as she gets into his bed beside him.   

“I got up to go get lunch,” Jihoon informs her as he goes back to doing whatever he was doing on his laptop. She could only guess the singer-songwriter is working on a new song.   

“Any plans for dinner?” she asks, trying to make her intentions seem less suspicious.  

He gives her a skeptical look. “No,” he replies curtly, turning back to his laptop, knowing her well enough to know that she’s about to ask him a favour and he wants no part of it.  

“Please, Jihoon! Just for tonight,” she practically begs her best friend.   

“That’s what you said last time,” he says unimpressed.   

“It’s just dinner at my parents. Eomma is trying to set me up with her friend’s son,” she pouts, “Again.”  

“Ask Mingyu or Soonyoung,” he sighs.  

“Hoshi,” She says using Soonyoung’s stage name, “is teaching that night dance class, which I think he just uses to recruit more people for his Horanghae cult and Mingyu is with his girlfriend,” she explains.  

“Didn’t you tell your mom that we broke up?” he says, making air quotes around ‘broke up’. A few months back, Y/N convinced him to pretend to be in a relationship with her to stop her mother from pressuring her to find a partner. After a few weeks, she told her mom they had ‘broken up,’ citing they’re better as friends and since then, the woman that had given her life has been even more determined to find her a husband.  

“What about that doctor you’re always raving about? Mr. Gentleman or whatever you call him,” he suggests.  

“I can’t do that! and if I did, she'd scare him away," she exclaims, looking at him as if he's gone crazy. "I don’t want to put him through that before he even thinks about giving me a real chance. Not that he’d ever agree to fake date me. Or date me at all."  

“Not with that attitude,” he mutters quietly, causing her to shoot him a glare.   

"What will it take for you to agree?" she groans, burying her face in one of his pillows.   

“Lend me your vocals for this track I'm working on," he proposes. "I want to see how it sounds with your voice."   

She lifts her head slightly, contemplating his offer before shaking it. She doesn’t share his confidence in her singing abilities. "You know, maybe Eomma's friend's fourth son won’t be so bad," she says, tossing the blanket aside and getting out of his bed.  

"I guess you don't need my help that much then," he teases. "Why not tell her you've just started seeing someone, but it's still early and you're both figuring things out?" he suggests, noticing the distress on her face.   

"As if she'd buy that," she scoffs, climbing back onto his bed. She moves closer, wrapping an arm around his and resting her head against his shoulder. “What song are you working on?” she asked with a sigh, finally giving in to his request.  

For the next ten minutes, Jihoon explains the song to her. He shares that it’s about a woman who falls in love with a man from her dreams, only to discover he’s real and in a coma making him out of reach. As he talks about it her mind drifts to Jeonghan, him being the first person she thinks of when she hears Jihoon mention the word coma. 

“So, it’s a sad song. How did you come up with that concept?” she asks, trying to shake Jeonghan from her mind, after he finishes showing her the lyrics he’s written so far.   

"I was thinking about you," he replies honestly. "With your ability, I always wondered if you’ve ever fallen for a ghost. It might explain why you haven’t been on a date in forever."   

"I’ll never fall in love with a ghost. That’s just weird," she shudders at the thought.  

"Come on, it’s not that weird," he nudges her playfully, his tone taking on a teasing one again. "You’re the one who talks to spirits and sees things that others can’t. If anyone would fall in love with a ghost, it would be you."   

“Let me know when you want to record it,” she tells him, ignoring his teasing. “I have to go get ready for dinner,” she continues as she lets go of him and climbs back off his bed. “Be ready by 6:30pm.” With that she leaves his room making her way into her own bedroom to get ready.  

“So, Jihoon, how have you been?” Y/N and Seungcheol’s mother asks as they are seated around the table, eating dinner. She’s filled with embarrassment, glaring daggers at her daughter while the man she invited sits next to Seungcheol, uncomfortable from the whole situation. “I didn’t know you and Y/N were back together. Did you know Seungcheol? You two talk about everything.”  

“Y/N might have mentioned it in passing,” Seungcheol shrugs, not wanting to be brought into his sister’s games.  

“We made the decision to get back together recently,” Jihoon answers. “And I’m doing great.”  

“Looks like we’re better off as a couple,” Y/N adds, trying hard to sound convincing. “Can we change the subject? This is obviously making your guest uncomfortable,” She then gestures toward Seungcheol, who raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by her sudden shift in focus. “How about we talk about Seungcheol and why he’s still single.”   

“I’m actually seeing someone,” he replies, smiling. “It’s still fairly new but I really like her.”  

“What’s her name?” their mum asks, temporarily forgetting about her daughter's ‘relationship’.   

Y/N’s eyes widen with surprised at his omission. With them being close in age, only a year apart, they’re so close, almost as close as twins. They truly do talk about everything so why didn’t he tell her he was seeing someone? “You are seeing someone?”   

“Her name is Yoon Ara,” he replies to their mum and subtly winks at his sister. A wink being the siblings sign to play along with whatever scheme the other has cooked up.  

“Yoon,” she murmurs, almost to herself, the name echoing in her mind and she can’t help but think of Jeonghan and the strange man from the bus stop. “Yoon Jeonghan,” she says aloud, her mind is now elsewhere.   

“Y/N?” Seungcheol’s voice pulls her back to the present, and she blinks looking around the room to see everyone looking at her. “Are you okay?”  

She nods, her cheeks flushing red. “I just remembered something. Jihoon and I have plans to see a movie,” she says, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she can stop them. She quickly stands up from the table. “We need to go now.”   

She can feel the weight of her brother's gaze on her, a mix of confusion and amusement, while her mother looks embarrassed, and her dad and her mother's guest looking lost.    

“You’re really going to leave?” she hears her mother ask. “Can’t you see the movie another time?”   

“We already have the tickets,” Y/N lies as she stands in the entrance way, putting on her shoes. “I’ll call you later,” she shouts as she walks out the door. Jihoon follows behind, as he goes along with her antics.  

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

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[bluesgrxce]

Yandere Trainer Red x Reader

[This is the final chapter of Red's story! No spoilers but I can just see the "Pikachu can't learn that move!!" comments from a mile away...]

Traveling up Mt. Silver has always been worse than traveling down it, but you keep telling yourself that it's not that bad; You've got a boyfriend to return to, and you just got back from a nice visit with his mother, her kind words still warming your heart in this freezing area. 

And yet they make your heart so heavy. Just like the bag weighing down on your back, which his mother had filled to the point that you could barely close it. Her words keep playing in your mind: "I know you'll take care of him. You're the only one who can now, since you're the only one who sees him anymore."

So you hoist the bag further up your back and trek through the pure white snow that crunches underneath your feet. At first, you do a good job of focusing on your surroundings, making sure some wild Pokemon doesn't jump you. Not that there's much of a reason for you to be intimidated of them. You own strong Pokemon, and if something goes wrong, Red will save you. 

...But will Red have calmed down by now? He walked away from you this morning without a single goodbye. What if he's still angry? Even though you start trying to tell yourself that's not possible, your pace slows down, as if trying to prolong this journey back home.. Well, back to the cave. 

'The cave.' Wow. That's your home. That's what Red wants you to think, anyway. Why are you putting up with this? Why are you letting him isolate you and act petty when you don't do exactly as he wants? What's wromg with you?

He needs you. You can't just leave him. He doesn't want anybody else in his life. He refuses to have anybody else in his life. He'll be completely alone without you and it'll be your fault if something happens to him. 

So what? This sucks. Why should you have to climb up a snowy mountain just to see your boyfriend? Why should you have to go through so much for him? You're sick of it. Sick of him.  

Ugh, how could you ever even think that? He adores you. He can make you feel so wanted if he really put effort into it, because you're the only one he's ever wanted. You'll never meet someone more loyal, caring, and protective than him. 

In mere moments, your spiraling thoughts make you lose all sense of your surroundings. 

Until you step into a patch of dark red snow. 

You pause. Then immediately step back.

Blood, your first thought as you examine your shoe. The residue of red snow clings to your sole. An overpowering wave of disgust crashes against you, but you resist the urge to claw the residue off. You examine the patch instead. It's not very big, appearing to be a bunch of drops that combine into a medium-sized puddle. 

But your gaze finds a trail of dots that lead towards a cliff on your right. Without much thought, you follow the trail until reaching the very tip of it. As morbid curiosity overrides your better judgment, you peer over the edge. 

...Well, damn, you can't see anything. You're so high up the mountain and the weather is so cruel, only a flurry of snow and fog can be seen from off this cliff. If you dropped something here, you'd never find it. Never. 

You take a sharp breath of icy air, tearing your gaze away from the cliff and back onto the path. Only to realize that the trail of red spots extends so much further than they first appeared to. As far as your eyes can see, patches of red snow outline the exact route you'll need to take to get home. 

Oh.

The blood's fresh. It's extremely fresh, because otherwise, a new layer of snow would already have covered it up

Oh.

Your heartbeat stops. It's like the cold finally got to you and froze your veins dead. Your heartbeat picks back up as you fight against the urge to hyperventilate. You lose your balance. 

Your foot slips off of the cliff.

But you scamper away from the edge just in time. Adrenaline pumps through your icy veins and makes them burst back to life as your mind tries to rationalize everything you've seen. Maybe it was a battle between wild Pokemon that went wrong. Maybe it got a bit too violent. 

Except that makes no sense. Wild Pokemon rarely fight each other to such injury, at least, not out in the open where trainers could easily interfere. At least that's still the option that's easier to believe, though. It's explainable by nature. The other option is only explainable by human cruelty. 

There's only one other person you know of on Mt. Silver.

You bolt back to the cave.

×××

A low hum rumbles through Red's chest as he breathes in the scent of your blanket. With his eyes shut like this, he can pretend the soft material is your skin, and its warmth is your body heat. Imagining that makes him clutch it against his chest like he's shielding you from the cold, as he often does. He's never been that bothered by it himself, but he couldn't live without the image of you holding onto him. He doesn't need anything else but that to make it through life.

"Red?!"

He flinches. Is that your voice? But you're back home too early. Much too early.

He hears your rapid footsteps echo across the cave walls before he sees you come into view. Your frantic expression makes him forget about everything else and drop the blanket, rushing over before you can say a word. You throw your hands onto his chest and he clutches your wrists. His dark eyes bore into you from under the brim of his hat, trying to predict the problem-- and figure out why you're holding onto his shirt so tightly.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?" You ask with urgency.

He squints his eyes and tilts his head. His silence makes your hands roam around his body. Your gaze scrutinizes him. "Well? Are you okay or not?"

Your stern, impatient question makes him stand him straight. He continues to peer at you through squinted eyes until he spots the palms of your hands. He clenches his jaw. 

You quirk an eyebrow at that and take a look as well. Smudged blood seeps into your skin. 

When you open your mouth, his breath stops in his throat. 

When Blue opens his mouth, Red's breath stops in his throat. Heat rises in his body and affects every bit of him-- Including his hands that grip and clench around nothing, his shoulders that tense to the point that its painful, and his teeth that grind together so much that it's like they're about to shatter. Each word that Blue says carries no value in Red's mind, only igniting one thing within him, an urge that he needs to satisfy. 

"My gramps told me not to get involved, but there's no way I'm gonna let you hold them hostage up here like this, not anymore." Blue releases a cocky laugh. "You seriously think they wanna live like this? Get real. You know they deserve better than this."

Red shoves his fists in his pockets. It's his last attempt to stop himself from doing something that can't be undone.

"I came back up here by myself to be a pal and give it to you straight, since they keep making excuses for you. You gotta move back down to Pallet Town, or at least get off of this mountain! You can't live like this forever!" When Red doesn't give any sort of response, Blue continues, "You know they'll go anywhere you go. You know that and you're taking advantage of that! You're just trying to keep them to yourself!"

Red advances forward and leers at him. He smirks and takes out a Pokeball.  "You wanna do this the hard way?" 

...That's not quite what Red has in mind. But he can work with it. 

Even as his breath hitches, Red's steady gaze never falters. He notes how your eyes dart back and forth between your bloody hands and his shirt with mismatched splotches on it. The color difference was so subtle that anyone could miss it. Your knees start shaking, so he grasps your hands to ensure you won't fall, ignoring how the blood wipes off on his skin too. You flinch like he's hurting you.

The issue and the solution are clear. He needs to clean you off.

He peeks over your shoulder and spots the heavy bag on your back. Though it's a hassle to make your petrified self cooperate, he eventually tugs it off and reaches inside until he finds a water bottle. He drops the bag with a harsh thud against the cave floor. 

You jump at the noise. He grimaces. Only then does it hit him that the bottle is ice cold. He reaches into his own nearby bag so he can use Charizard to heat it up. He does so without looking, so he accidentally pulls out Pikachu's Pokeball instead. His eyebrows furrow together. 

Pikachu hesitates when it sees the look on Red's face, how his eyes twitch and his lips form a scowl. Its eyes become sad as it looks back and forth between Blue and his Blastoise. It keeps trying to settle its gaze on Blastoise, but Red corrects it everytime with the gesture of his head. 

Finally, Pikachu settles its gaze on Blue. Then it gives one last look at its trainer. He nods. After a moment of silence, it does as previously instructed.

Pikachu uses Cut. Over and over and over again. 

Red doesn't even look at Blue as he screams. His mind is far too enamoured with thoughts of you, only you, leaving him completely undeterred as dark red blood crashes against the snow.

Red shakes his head clear. He brings Charizard out and in mere seconds, the bottle's ready. He triple checks to make sure it's not scalding hot, before pushing it into your trembling hands. He goes to retrieve the blanket so he can wrap it around your shoulders and give you the comfort you need. 

But the blanket is damp to the touch. He looks down and sees even more blood staining the otherwise clean fabric. His grimace deepens, but he simple drops it to the ground like he did with your bag. Looks like he'll have to find a way to do laundry again. 

Red's shirt feels damp against his chest as he trudges down the mountain. He ignores it, instead wishing there was a nearby Pokemon Center so he could at least get a Machamp from his Pokemon Box to take on this heavy weight in his arms. But Pikachu had already starting hiding from him in its Pokeball and refused to come out. He rolled his eyes, not wanting to deal with more dumb things like that. 

He comes to a stop. He looks around until he spots a cliff, immediately heading towards it. He hurls Blue's body into the abyss. Then, he reaches into his bag, and drops Blue's items the same way. He doesn't hesitate even when only Blue's Pokeballs are left. With each Pokemon still trapped inside, he drops them one by one and watches them as they disappear into the fog. He never hears them land. 

He turns away and walks back.

"This isn't your blood."

Red's eyes widen momentarily before he looks back at you. Growing realization crosses your face as you gape at him. Disgust takes over your expression, as if you're wondering how you didn't notice just how bloody he is before. How dirty he is. How cruel he is. 

But he chooses not to acknowledge you, like he's done many times before. He takes the water bottle back, flinging the cap behind him, and snatches your wrist. 

"What happened?" You ask as he pours the warm water over your hand. 

Silence. And yet you don't know when to quit.

"Red."

He switches to your other hand to wash it off as well.

"Red."

He starts switching back and forth between your hands. He scrubs the creases of your palms to get out the stubborn spots. Roughly. Like he's trying to scratch your skin off. 

"Red, please!"

He doesn't stop until the bottle is empty and your hands are numb. A puddle of bloody water pools at your shoes now, though neither of you pay much attention to that. He keeps his gaze trained on your hands, which he still holds so tightly. The brim of his hat covers his face so you can only see him frown. 

But then he pulls you into a hug. Except it doesn't feel like one. His arms smother you, his fingers dig into your flesh, and his stature does everything it can to swallow you whole. This isn't a hug. This isn't what it should be like. 

You look around the cave. This isn't what a home should be like. You look at him. This isn't what a relationship should be like. But at this point, it doesn't seem like there's anything you can do about it. He needs you here, after all. 

You start sobbing. Red rubs your back as your tears mix with the blood on his shirt. He stares into the distance, looking out the cave entrance to see the beautiful isolation that is Mt. Silver. It removes all of the meaningless distractions so there's nothing else to rely on except each other. As it should always be. 

His touch grows possessive when he spots the bloody trail outside your home. Tainting the pure snow of this mountain, of your love, of your soul was never on his agenda. But Blue came to ruin everything for him, so it's what he had to do. And if anybody else dares to do the same, he'll do it again without a second thought. He'll paint everything red if that's what it takes to keep you with him alone.  

When he can do things like this to prove his devotion, words are unnecessary. This is all he needs to do in order for him to say 'I love you.' 

× × ×

Lol just killed my problematic fave off, but it's okay, he would've killed Red too in a different universe. He actually did, if you know that one pokepasta... Blue Tears my beloved like yes king go kill more people 😍

[your-kinky-confessions]

I've been down in Florida for the last week-and-a-half or so visiting family. My cousin, who I was there to visit and I have always been not really close, but not distant either if that makes sense. We don't really talk, but there's no friction or anything between us if that makes sense. Anway, this was the first time we had seen each other for a couple years, so I was really looking forward to this visit. Everything was going normal until last Friday.

Her and her hubby have an underground pool, because, Florida. So naturally, being the frost-bitten Canadian that I am, I was taking advantage of the beautiful Florida weather and relaxing in the pool. I must have zoned out or something because all I remember was jumping when my cousin splashed me with water.

When I recovered, I was stunned to see her admittedly gorgeous figure and medium-sized, round boobs naked just a couple feet away from me.

"Ugh, did you forget something?" I said kinda breathless, not knowing where to look.

"Oh, you mean to cover these?" She said, grabbing and squeezing her hardened tits and moving closer to me until we were inches apart.

"Why don't you give them a feel?" She said, her voice dripping with seduction as I reluctantly reached up and groped her left breast. Her boob filling my hand perfectly.

I can't understate how conflicted I felt, now feeling up both her boobs, but what happened next completely blew me away. Now holding both of my cousin's tits, she leaned in and gave me a kiss on the lips. Just a tiny peck, like she was trying to see how I would react - which was again, stunned - then, after a second or two, she gave me a full-on open-mouth kiss. One hand on the edge of the pool, the other sliding wrapping around my rock hard cock.

When we finally came up for air, she leaned in and whispered the three words I never would have thought I'd hear her say in a million years. "Fuck me Sean."

"Kelly, what the...are you serious? Wha-what about?" I asked, my eyes flicking towards her house.

"He's on the road, remember?" She replied, her hands now untying my swimming trunks.

"I-I mean, we-we're related, like we can't"

"Does it look like I care?" She said, pulling herself out of the water so that her entire body rubbed against me as she did so.

The smell of her lust as she slid her wet pussy against my face was enough to overrule my brain. I reached up and caught her by the waist as she was getting out of the water.

"Fuck this is wrong" I mumbled to myself just before yanking down her bikini bottom and gently pulling her back in the water a bit.

The sight of her sexy round naked ass and wet cunt made my cock twitch as I took a long, exploring taste of her delicious pussy. Pausing briefly to grab a handful of ass cheek before throughly eating her out.

"Fuh-mmmmm fuck me, Sean! Please fuck me" she moaned between waves of orgasm.

"Turn around" I instructed as I gave her ass a hard slap.

The feeling my cousin's body made as I slowly shoved my cock between her seam was unlike any other woman ove ever been with. So welcoming to all my 8 inches, tight, but not virgin, slick from her wetness, warm. I knew this was about to be the best sex of my life.

Much to my surprise (again), my cousin didn't hold back and began riding me hard and fast. Her lifetime of being a gifted athlete evident as she slid up and down my cock with ease and a crazed pace. Within a matter of minutes, I felt her body stiffen as the first moans of orgasm raced through her. My own orgasm following almost simultaneously, as my cock erupted shot after shot of cum deep inside my cousin's cunt.

There's more to this story, but I'll save that for later

[multifandomfanficss]

The Road to the Afterlife

Platonic!Dead Boy Detectives (and Doom Patrol) X Reader

Prompt: After dying, your friends at the Dead Boy Detective Agency will do anything to get you back. This includes diving into one of the most dangerous planes of existence with their friends at the Doom Patrol by their side.

Warnings: blood, anxiety

A/N: I’m a big fan of both the Dead Boy Detectives comics and Doom Patrol so after their appearance in season 3 I knew I had to throw something together. This was inspired by both the comics and the tv show, but you don’t have to read the comics to read the fic. I do suggest watching the episode of Doom Patrol first. This mostly surrounds around everybody’s 2 favorite dead boys, but Crystal, Dorothy, and the Doom Patrol do make appearances. Let me know if you want more Dead Boy Detectives or some Doom Patrol centered fics!

It was just a normal case with your best friends Charles, Edwin, Crystal, and Dorothy until it wasn’t, but then again when is anything truly normal in your business? One minute you were bleeding out on the concrete gripping Crystal’s hand and the next minute you were hanging from a hook like meat in a horror movie. You had just woken up from what felt like hours of darkness. You had heard the stories of people seeing loved ones in the afterlife to persuade them to crossover, but you had no one. You never knew your family because you grew up bouncing from orphanage to orphanage. You were told your parents were alive, but they just couldn’t have you in their lives. The only people who were ever there for you were two dead boys running from the afterlife, a teenage medium, and a 107 year old child with real imaginary friends. There was nobody to greet you. No one to keep you company and give you any form of hope. Nobody to calm you down. You tried to take deep breaths. Your friends would surely come for you.

THIRD PERSON POV

Charles was anxiously pacing around the tree house while the rest of the group was sitting down trying to figure out their next move. They all knew what they needed to do wether they wanted to go or not.

“I’m going to get them” Charles blurted out. He stopped pacing and stood seriously in front of his friends. He tried to fake confidence.

“Don’t be rash. We need a plan” Edwin said thinking about what to do next. Dorothy and Crystal sat at a table with a couple of (Y/N)’s things trying to reach them. One of the items on the table began to glow.

“We’re running out of time, Edwin!” Charles began to get frustrated. Edwin stood up and put a hand on Charles’ shoulder.

“I know you’re worried about them believe me I am too, but we can’t just go running into the afterlife with no backup” Edwin begged his best friend. 

“Well somebody needs to figure out something and fast” Crystal added. Dorothy knew what she needed to do. She excused herself from the table to call her old friends at Doom Manor.

(Y/N)’s POV

“I’m dead…I’m literally dead…I bled out and now I’m actually really dead. What the actual fuck” You whisper aloud to yourself. You can feel the tears begin to roll down your cheeks. You try to keep your sobs quiet as to not alert the monsters above that you were awake. You had heard about Watchers and you weren’t very excited to meet one. You heard the hatch lift over your head as you were lifted off the hook and onto the platform above you. You wiggled and kicked trying to get the person to release you.

“I’m not going to hurt you” The voice promised. You looked up to find a man with kind eyes, eyes that seemed to have seen a lot. You recognized him from descriptions of the last time your friends had been to the afterlife. Underneath cuts and bruises this seemed to be the man who had helped your friends escape. He must have been tortured for helping them escape. You felt terrible. You found yourself to be staring at him until he pushed you down a corridor.

“Run!” He said with urgency. You couldn’t even say thank you before your found your feet taking you away as quickly as possible. You turned down another corridor and stood at the end of a long hallway trying to catch your breath. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Why did you need to breathe anyway? You were dead. You thought death would stop the feeling of a racing heart and breathlessness, but it only made your anxiety worse. You felt footsteps coming towards you. You tried to hold back your sobs as you came to terms with what was happening to you. You didn’t know what would happen next. What would happen if the Watchers found you? You turned the corner to find a dead end. You had nowhere to go. Your legs gave out in fear as your slid down the wall, collapsing to the ground. The footsteps were only getting closer and closer until they stopped.

“(Y/N)?” You heard a familiar voice say softly. You looked up to see Charles, Edwin, Cliff, Vic, and Jane.

“Are they okay? They’re kinda freaking out…” Cliff asked.

“Leave this to us Tin Man” Charles said as he slowly kneeled in front of me and put a hand on my shoulder. Edwin follow closely behind him and crouched down. The others kept their distance.

“Very funny jack ass” Cliff said before Jane pushed him.

“Not the time” She whispered.

“I’m gonna go stand guard” Vic said running down the corridor.

You avoided eye contact with the boys. You were scared and embarrassed. Most of all you were still panicking. You felt like you would throw up on them if they got any closer. You were still holding back a lot of tears.

“It’s okay (Y/N) we’re going to get you out of here” Edwin began.

“But I’m de-dead” You let out a sob you didn’t realize you were still holding in and Charles brought you into his arms. He rubbed circles into your back and spoke softly. He reminded you that everything was okay and that they were there to take you home. Charles felt different in this plane of existence. He felt more solid and less cold. He felt more alive…or maybe you just felt more dead.

You apologized profusely for putting them in this danger. Edwin assured you that you had nothing to be sorry for.

“I hate to break up the reunion, but the Watchers are coming” Vic said running back to the group.

“Then let’s take those sons of bitches down! We fucked them up once we’ll do it again” Jane said before receiving a high five from Cliff.

“That is really not a good idea” Edwin chimed in as the three of you stood up. Charles stood up first giving you his hand to help yourself up. After standing you didn’t let go. You don’t think he minded as you ran for the river. As scared as you were you knew he was probably feeling worse at this moment. He would probably never get over his fear of water and who could blame him? The boat rocked back and fourth before you sat settled between the boys, your boys, your heroes. You had no idea what horrors they had been through to get to you. You were thankful. You laid your head on Edwin’s shoulder. Being the less affectionate of the two you were only a little surprised when he barley stiffened at the touch. You sighed of relief. You were going home.

When you got back to your body you were surprised to see there was little to no evidence of your mortal wound. You bolted up taking a deep breath. Dorothy, Crystal, Larry, and Rita immediately ran to your side as Cliff, Jane, and Vic returned to their bodies from astral projection and Charles and Edwin came through the mirror. You were in new clothes. This was no doubt Rita’s doing. She confessed she didn’t want you waking up in blood soaked clothes. You gave a small laugh as that had been the least of your worries.

Hours later after everyone had left, you sat alone in the tree house with Charles. Dorothy had gone back to Doom Manor to visit for a couple days and Crystal was trying to show Edwin how to play her favorite video game, Yonda, for the fifth time this week.

“Thank you for coming. I know how much you guys risked to come save me” You thanked Charles.

“It was nothing” He tried to down play it.

“Do you ever think about getting back into your bodies?” You asked.

“We’ve been dead for too long. Edwin’s remains are lost and my body has been decomposing in a plot at St. Hilarion’s for decades” He explained. You felt bad for asking. You got quiet.

“It’s okay though. Being a ghost has its perks” He smiled.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Like this!” He laughed as he lifted you up and floated out the door and to the roof of the tree house. You laughed along with him.

“Don’t drop me!” You begged.

“I won’t drop you!” He promised. The two of you sat on the roof and were later joined by Edwin and Crystal for some star gazing. You saw a shooting star.

“What are you going to wish for?” Crystal asks you.

“I already have everything I’ve ever wanted and more” You respond as you lay with your best friends, your family.

[happytroopers]

Origin Day // platonic 501st! Reader

Tw: alcohol use

It’s my 21st birthday and I want to go clubbing with the 501st

“Wait, isn’t twenty-one like a big deal for civvies?” Fives asked, watching you wrench a bolt tighter on the sliding door of a gunship in the large hangar of the Coruscant GAR barracks. Most clone troopers genuinely didn’t understand the sensationalized idea of birthdays (or as most people in the galaxy called them: Origin Days). The closest they had was when they were let out of the growth chambers. You shrugged, giving the wrench one last pull before wiping the sweat off your forehead.

“On some planets.” You hummed, “For some species. Depends on when the government deems your species old enough to drink alcohol.”

“So you can enlist in the military, but can’t go for a drink.” Echo asked, eye brows furrowing while Fives muttered something about that being bullshit.

You gave the gunship one last appraisal before deciding you had done all you could do. If they wanted those dents out, high command would have to sanction heavy equipment. Finally, you looked back to the Arc trooper duo.

“Which is why you’ve never seen me in 79’s.”

“Civie laws make no sense.” Fives stated bluntly, kicking himself off the crate he’d be lounging on. “So are you doing anything?”

“Well, my childhood friends live on a different planet, and my academy friends are all deployed at the moment.” You voice was strained as you stretched your arms over your head, “Aside from getting those AT-RT’s back in working order? Not unless you two have any brilliant ideas.”

Over your head, the two Arc troopers shared a look. They did in fact have an idea-though ‘brilliant’ was a little bit generous.

_______

“Don’t you two have an early call time tomorrow?” You yelled over the thumping music, subconsciously tugging at your outfit (you had forgotten how exposing civvie clothes felt compared to your military uniforms).

79’s was busier than usual according to Echo who was walking in front of you to part the crowd. Fives was behind you, guiding you with a warm hand on the small of your back.

“Yeah, but you don’t.” Fives answered with a smile in his voice. In front of you Echo nodded.

“We’ll manage.” He paused, pulling you in front of him and pointing to a back corner, “Besides, I doubt it’ll be that much of a problem.”

You eyes followed his finger to find an unexpected sight. Half of the 501st was gathered around a corner booth, even Captain Rex who rarely ever ventured to the club scene.

Fives and Echo watched your expression carefully, relieved when you broke into a laugh and your hands flew to your mouth.

“It’s not much but-“ Echo started in with something cheesy, but you cut him off, taking both his and Fives hands as you pulled them towards the corner.

“It’s perfect.” You promised. And it was. For some the party had already started: Hardcase and Jesse were clutching long necked bottles while they teased Tup. Kix and Rex were chatting over swirling low ball glasses of whiskey. And to your surprise, Dogma even come, even if he was just clutching a glass of water like a life preserver.

When they finally caught sight of you, you could hear their whoops and hollers over the music.

“Hey!” “There she is!” “Wooooo, (Y/N)!”

Amongst other greetings were chorused as you were pulled into the fold. Echo passed you off to Jesse who through an arm around your shoulders, easily pulling you to his side while Hardcase clapped a hand onto your back. Tup simply offered you a kind smile. They were all laughing and it was contagious.

Rex didn’t get up, but he did raise his glass to you with a nod and a smile. Dogma, who looked like he didn’t truly want to be there, at least managed a smile, even if it was a bit forced. You appreciated his presence, nonetheless. Kix slid out of the booth, fingers dipping into a pocket on his belt and producing a medium sized, clear gel capped pill before planing it in your hand. You took it, a little hesitantly, but looked up at him in confusion.

“It’s a hydration supplement. You’re gonna wanna take that if you want to function tomorrow.” He promised with a wink, offering the untouched glass of water. You followed his instructions and then the party really started.

While Kix had been being the responsible one, Hardcase had snuck off and had returning with a tray of nine shots that glowed a not-so-subtle neon blue. Because that’s what you should do- drink things that glow.

After placing them on the table, everyone took one of the tiny glasses (or in Dogma’s case was bullied into taking one), and looked to Rex expectantly.

“Well, Captain, aren’t you going to give a toast?” Fives chided, holding his shot up. Rex rose an eye brow, but mirrored the action.

“Alright. We’re very lucky to celebrate together tonight and even luckier to call (Y/N) our friend. Let’s drink to the 501st, to the Republic, and to many more years for (Y/N).” He announced very seriously and sincerely, locking eyes with you. It was almost enough to make you misty eyed- had Hardcase not immediately yelled.

“Hell yeah, I’ll drink to that! To (Y/N)!!” He shouted, and before you could changed your mind to raised the glass to your friends and threw it back. Surprisingly, the glowing liquor was sweet, a flavor you couldn’t quite place, but it did leave a burning trail down your throat. You coughed, at first, before shivering when the alcohol settled into your belly. The boys laughed at your expression.

“Well, if you’re not gonna drink it,” Hardcase shrugged, plucking the tiny glass out of Dogma’s hand and putting it in yours, “the birthday girl should.”

It was going to be a night.

And it was.

There were a couple of shots thrust into your hands periodically through the night that sustained the bubbly warmth moving through you blood. Between the shots, Fives and Echo did a good job of convincing random soldiers to buy you drinks. There was dancing and laughter, enough to last a lifetime.

Rex was the first to leave, handing you a glass of water and reminding you to pace yourself before looking sternly at Fives and Echo, “You two makes sure she gets home safe, that’s an order.”

Dogma was next, slipping out shortly after Rex. But not before you convinced to dance with you. It was stiff and awkward, but you managed to get him to laugh before the song was up. After Hardcase loudly boo-ed him for ‘wussing’ out, he wished you a happy Origin Day and reminded you of the call time for the next day.

That was when Jesse delivered you a fruity little umbrella drink, and coincidentally that was when night became a little fuzzy.

Fives, Echo, Jesse, Hardcase, Tup, and Kix took turns dancing with you, trading you around. Jesse even scared some shiny off when they tried to ease into your dance, getting a little too handsy for his taste. At one point, Jesse and Hardcase had you hoisted onto their shoulders as Tup waited ready to catch you if they dropped you. Before you knew it, the bartender was calling last call.

Then there were flashes of the journey home. Stumbling out of 79’s with the rest of the late night crowd, not being able to flag a taxi big enough for seven, deciding to walk, getting distracted by greasy street food, tripping over your own feet bad enough that Kix had to patch up your scraped up knees, and winding up at the Clone barracks being carried on Echo’s back, fast asleep. The only thing you remembered from the barracks was passing a group of clones in black and red armor, and one of them muttering, ‘regs...’ in disdain. By the time they realized they forgot to take you home, they were too tired to remedy it.

And that’s how you woke up in Hardcase’s bunk, with the said solider crashing on top of Tup in the bunk below you. Fives and Echo were slumped against each other, sitting on the floor. Kix was the only one where he was supposed to be and he was sleeping very soundly. Jesse was nowhere to be found.

None of you made it to call on time.

[peachpanlong]

‘Burning Desire’

Satoru Gojo x reader, 18+

cw // sex toys , degrading kink, sub gojo , bondage

word count: 1.4k

(do not repost my work unless you have permission to do so, reblogs are fine)

Your back pressed against the wall as your hands slid towards the door to close it. Infront of you was Gojo, your colleague who you regularly got intimate with. “You realise I’m supposed to be packing for a business trip?” You apprised as a hand slid up underneath your shirt. “Yeah yeah.. I’m just going to miss your body. I need to saviour it now.” Satoru murmured. You rolled your eyes. “Well saviour it quick. I have stuff to do.” Kisses begin to scatter your neck as you were picked up using Satoru’s masculine hands.

After walking towards the bedroom you were dropped onto the mattress. Lips connected once again, this time much rougher. The kisses were intense, they felt as if he’d been deprived of intimacy despite hooking up with eachother the other day. Between French kisses, both of you began to take off each others clothes. “Sit on my lap like a good doll.” As much as you hated when he bossed you around you did love the dominance that he displayed.

You lifted your body over his thighs and began to move your hips against his bulge. “You’re not gonna cum in the first five minutes like last time, are ya?” You ignored his comment despite how much it pissed you off. “Just who do you think i am?” You retorted.

A smirk appeared on Satoru’s lips as he answered. “A slutty bitch who can’t handle even half of my cock.”

After hearing what he said you lifted yourself up off him, walking towards your wardrobe. “You cryin’?” You opened the wardrobe drawer and picked up a long piece of red rope. “You’re tying yourself up for me? How thoughtful.” You could hear the sneer in his voice. You let out an aggravated sigh. “Not quite...” Looking back at him you could see he had an inquisitive expression displayed on his face. “What are you planning..?” He uttered, brows furrowing.

“Hands behind you. Now.” Despite wanting to do what you ordered he tried his hardest to put up a fight. “And if I don’t?” He murmered with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “Do you want to cum tonight or not?” A look of dismay shot through his face as he positioned his hands behind his back. “Good boy” you began weaving the rope between his wrists and arms. “Does is hurt?” You said in a calm yet seductive tone. “Kinda.” He let out a pained sigh.

You tightened the ropes. “Good.” It was then you noticed the strain on his boxers. “You’re getting off on this?” You inquired as Satoru lowered his head in shame. You walked back towards the drawer and pulled out an object your colleague has never seen before. “What is that?” He questioned. “Wait and find out like a good puppy.” You rotated the knob on the remote causing the ring object to vibrate intensely. You then turned the knob to the left, causing the vibrations to cease.

A deep groan parted Satoru’s lips as you pulled down his boxers just enough to let his cock out. “You’re not planning to...” Satoru let out a disheveled moan as the now softly vibrating ring sunk down on his cock. “Shut the fuck up. You’re being too loud.” You warned with a sadistic grin varnishing your face. Once the ring had been firmly fixed to the bottom of his shaft you began to slowly increase the power. A shallow whine escaped from his throat in result.

Walking back towards the wardrobe you pulled out a dildo and lube. Flipping the bottle cap back you poured the liquid on top of the dildo and began to lather it with your hands. “Ass up. Now.” His cloudy blue eyes now seemed desperate and deprived, begging for his body to have more stimulation. Like a pathetic dog he pushed his head against the mattress to force his ass upwards. “Good boy.”

You rubbed the tip of the dildo against his hole, enjoying the desperate sounds coming from the man as he tried his best to thrust his ass against the object. “Stop being a cheap whore.” You spat in a crude tone. You could hear him hopelessly sulking against the mattress, fighting the urge to fuck himself against the dildo barely pushing into his ass. Finally you gave in and started to push the object into him at a painfully slow pace.

You’ve never seen him so docile... so needy... And now that this scene is presented right infront of you it is impossible to get enough.

Satoru’s speech was incoherent. A cluster of pleas and curse words fled from his mouth as his hips started to once again thrust against the dildo. “Plea- please! Fuck me, I need it so badly!” If only his friends could see him in this pathetic state. Ever so slowly the dildo finally sunk into his ass. Getting a closer look you began to notice the crescents that he had dug into the palms of his hands. “Pretty puppet can’t handle a slow pace?” You sneered sadistically only to be answered with whimpers and begging.

The tears from his eyes had began to soak your pillow. It was cute how pathetic he was being for you. “It’s funny how you won’t even put up a fight. Maybe you just like acting like a dumb bitch in heat.” Your words went straight to his cock causing painful twitches. A sickeningly noisy moan escaped his throat as he began grinding his cock against nothing. That was when you noticed his halt in movement. “Fucking whore. You ruined my sheets.” His head turned to the left, facing you. “‘M sorry... felt good. Can you take off the ropes now?”

Letting out a scoff you responded. “Definitely not. You think you can stain my sheets and get away with it? Spoilt fucking brat. Stay.” Despite the whimpers he did as you said, keeping his ass up and his head pressed against the mattress. “You remember the safe word, right?”

“Is red.” You tangled your hands into his hair as affirmation. “Good boy. Now let me have my fun.” Your hands started to ever so slowly turn the dial to the medium setting. His disheveled moans were like music to your ears. “Too much.. too- ah.. fuck keep going..” A callous smile spread across your face. “Dumb whore doesn’t even know what he wants. Should I help him choose?” His head began to nod involuntarily. You began to press the dildo against his ass again, finally fitting half of it in his ass. “You’re taking it so well.” Your praises were drowned out by his anguished cries. “‘S too much... feel so sensitive...” seeing his tears run down his soft cheeks somehow fueled your hunger for him more than it had. “Okay bunny. I’ll stop.” You said with an obviously spurious smile.

“H-huh...” his eyebrows raised and his glossy eyes showed genuine confusion. “But.. I didn’t..” you grabbed at his jaw roughly, making him face you. “Didn’t what?” Your other hand snaked around to remove the dildo. He desperately tried to maintain the pleasure, pushing his ass against it while you pulled it away from him. “I didn’t say the safe word! Please don’t stop!” You forcefully tugged the rest of the dildo out, letting him feel empty and unsatisfied.

You pressed the pads of your thumbs against his cheeks, collecting his tears. “Oh but baby, you were whining about it being too much. I didn’t want to hurt my precious puppy.” You cooed mockingly. “Now, I’ve got to pack. Have fun, baby!” You twisted the dial to the maximum level. A harsh cry echoed the walls of your apartment. “Stop being a whiney bitch.” You warned as you set your feet to the ground, standing up. Satoru bit into the pillow to muffle his pleasured cries. And with that you exited the room, leaving a very desperate, whiney satoru.

While packing, you had kept an ear out just incase the safe word was called. After storing your toiletries and cursed tools, you returned to the bedroom to pack your clothes. In that room you found your colleague passed out with drool and cum saturating the mattress beneath him.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed <3

[petri808]

Bakudeku canon divergent, vampire quirk AU

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

For the next several days, Bakugou stopped in towns along the train route that were in the easterly direction to see if any other strange reports had been made. He wasn’t sure if the first man’s attack had anything to do with his friend, but in the towns, he was able to confirm a sighting of a green streak, there were coinciding reports of attacks in the days preceding them. Always a similar story, late at night, didn’t see the attacker, and bite wounds on various parts of the body such as the arm, shoulder, or even neck. The other thing they had in common, were the victims were found in drunken stupors. Was it a coincidence? What was another coincidence, is after the first victim, the rest were all what police classified as problems. With or without quirks, they were bad men who had lists of crimes under their belts. That meant whatever was causing the attacks now appeared to have a specific target.

Bakugou stood in the Ena township police station, tapping his foot to release some of the pent-up energy. “Yesterday,” he questioned the desk sergeant, “are you telling me that attack was just yesterday evening?”

The man nodded. “The victim is still in the hospital being treated for low blood levels. They’ve had to keep him sedated through the IV infusions because he wouldn’t stop screaming about a man with green eyes.”

“And there’s no other incidences?” The officer shook his head. “That means the attacker could still be here.”

“Wait, do you know who it is?”

Bakugou shook his head no. He wasn’t about to tell some beat cop who he suspected it could be. “It’s just based off the pattern I’ve been tracking. There are usually a few attacks over the spans of one to three days, and then they just end. So, if this was the first, it means there will be more.”

After speaking with the cops and getting a map for the area of the latest attack, Bakugou staked out the scene. There are no traces left behind to say who or what had caused the attacks, but what he did notice of the area is it was a seedy side of town. The victim said he’d been pulled off the main street into an adjoining alley way around 1 am, too quickly to even get a scream out. He remembered the time because the bar he’d just left had hit its closing time. The alley was narrow, and empty save for a few dumpsters for neighboring shops, no doorways or lighting, perfect for hiding in.

‘Tonight, is still a new moon…’ Bakugou noted, which added to the dark cover of night. After his reconnaissance, he went back to his tiny hotel room to get a few hours of sleep. It was going to be a long night.

It was a decision he didn’t know if he would come to regret someday, but in the end, the blonde hero realized that his flashier costume would make him stand out way too easily. So, after foregoing his costume, Bakugou dressed all in black for the undercover work. He climbed to the roof of a building, dead center of the area the attacker might choose in the hopes that the green lightning seen by eyewitnesses will be the tell-tale sign he’ll be able to use to track the person. Patience wasn’t exactly his virtue, but it was the only way he was gonna catch the guy.

The first night’s stakeout yielded nothing. No sightings, no attacks. Which could mean anything or nothing. Previous attacks didn’t always take place every night in a row, but it could also mean the attacker had moved on. Did they catch-wind of him being there and fled? Damn he hoped not! This was the closest he’d come to catching up to the green lightning! Two nights later, Bakugou was growing disillusioned. Every day he checked back with the authorities to make sure no other sightings had been made in town or in surrounding cities, and with the answer being ‘no’ each time, there was a small glimmer of hope he was still in the right place at the right time.

But as he laid on a rooftop on the night of day 4, a lot of thoughts were plaguing him because there was nothing to do while waiting but think. Sometimes he would run the events of that AFO fight though his mind trying to remember any little details that may help him. Other times, it would be about Midoriya and what could have possibly made the man run off like this. Those thought’s either left him broken or wanting to strangle the guy for causing them so much pain. Midoriya better damn well be ready to do a hell of a lot of apologizing to their friends and family!

Bakugou grimaced at the last thought. Such personal emotions he would rather lock away into some box deep within the recesses of his soul than to admit the truth. He told himself he was doing this for their friends. He tried to convince himself that he was doing this for aunty Inko and to make All Might proud. These were a part of the search, yes… but not the full reason. The blonde had to admit he missed the stupid nerd. Midoriya was his childhood friend, and no matter how much shit he gave the guy, he was the one person he could count on. He was still determined to beat the mouse and become the Number one hero… but he was also proud of how far Midoriya had come in the last three years. It would be a shame for it all to be thrown away now.

Just as he was ready to call it a night, Bakugou heard a muffled scream from a nearby street. He rushed over as quickly as possible, racing into the alley way just as the unconscious victim’s body is being laid down. Bloody hell he was right all along!

“DEKU?!”

All he could see was the person’s back, but he’d know those red shoes anywhere. The mousy green hair looked even wilder than normal. Midoriya still had on his costume, but it was torn up with a raggedy cloak swaddling his upper body. Simply put, his friend looked like a homeless man off the streets. The figure froze for a second, then without turning to face off against Bakugou immediately flashed with green and took off into the sky. Green lightning!

“DEKU YOU, FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!” Bakugou blasted off after the man. Damn it, his gear would have helped with the propulsion! He couldn’t remember him being so quick before, what the hell was going on? Midoriya was streaking away, zigzagging along roof tops, and heading towards a section of industrial warehouses. If it wasn’t for the quirks electrical output to tell him where to go, he could easily lose sight in the darkness.

He gritted his teeth and pushed his quirk to its limit. There was no way Bakugou was going to screw up this opportunity. So, if he couldn’t catch up, he could knock the nerd out of the sky! “ARRGHH!!!” He sent repeated AP-Auto shots towards Midoriya at medium power, growing angrier as the man dodged the first few volleys. “THAT’S IT!!!!” In his rage, Bakugou increased the spread like buck shots of crackling fire ringing around the fleeing figure, and he kept up the pace in rapid succession.

“AHHHHH!”

The scream pierced the night and Bakugou saw several hits knock the man off course, barreling the body straight for the ground. It wasn’t his intention to hurt, but damn it, Midoriya shouldn’t have run in the first place! He turned on the turbo and reached the man just as he was trying to get back on his feet.

“Don’t fucking think about it!” Bakugou grabbed the man’s shoulder and whipped him around. “Goddamn it Deku! What the fuck is your problem?!”

“K-Kacchan, wh-wh—”

“Don’t you Kacchan me, you bastard!” He gripped tightly so that Midoriya can’t squirm away easily. “Did you think I wouldn’t come looking for you idiot!”

“Yes.”

It was as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Okay, he should be surprised by that answer. When had he ever acted like he cared when it came to Midoriya? But that didn’t mean such a quick and blunt response wouldn’t hit him like a brick to the head. And you know what, he has shown he cared in his own way. Damn it! When has he ever just left the man behind? His fist balled up and cocked back, striking Izuku hard on the chin and sending him back to the ground. “Stupid fuck!” Bakugou spat the words out before dropping to his knees on top of the man. “I ought ‘a beat the crap out of you right now for even thinking that!”

But Midoriya shoved back trying to push the man off. “What the fuck are you talking about?! You don’t give a shit about me, never have! When the hell did you start caring?!” He kicked and twisted, fighting the larger male. “Get the fuck off me! I can’t stay here!”

“You are coming home with me Deku whether you like it or not!”

“NOOOOOO!!!” Midoriya activated his quirk up to 70% and bucked Bakugou off him. “It’s too dangerous, Kacchan just get away from me!” He took a stance to spring himself back into the air, but the blonde scrambled and jumped on top of him, pushing him back to the ground. “Get off, I don’t want to hurt you!” Midoriya screamed. This was getting out of control. Exhausting so much energy on Bakugou was stirring up his hunger and if that happened, he didn’t know if he could control himself.

“What the fuck ya gonna do, drink my blood too? What the hell is going on with you Deku?! Goddamn it tell me what the fuck happened in that forest!”

“Y-You know about that?”

“How do you think I tracked your ass down?!”

The pain is his stomach was rising fast. Midoriya winced as the rush of blood sounded off in his ears and other tell-tale signs progressively made its entrance. This was not good! “Kacchan please,” his voice whined and pleaded through the aching throb in his core, “let me go before something happens.”

“I don’t care what it takes Deku, I can’t lose you again.”

“I-I’m so sorry Kacchan.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen as he saw a dark red sheen enveloping the whites of Midoriya’s eyes. Is this what happened when he’d attacked all those men?

Every last nerve was fighting against control. It was an option Midoriya didn’t want to use, but if he could control it just a little longer, all he wanted to do was give himself a head start. “Please,” he begged one more time, “just forget about me Kacchan.”

“Get it through your fucking head! I’M NOT LEAVING YOU!”

That was the last thing Bakugou remembered…

[haus-seeblick]

Suptober Day 6: “Who Brings a Gun to a Cemetery?”

For Day 6: Cemetery Boys

Rating: General Audiences; Ship: Pre-Destiel; WC: 3,219

POV Outsider (Original Male Character); full tags on AO3 or below the cut.

Summary: Jerry Wallace has seen a lot of satanic rituals. A lot. Candles and daggers, pentagrams, hoods and chanting; you name it, he’s seen it. As the head of security — and only guard — of Sullivan Cemetery, he’s bound to have run into the occasional devil worshipper. It doesn’t even faze him anymore. There’s not much Jerry Wallace hasn’t seen.

In which: Jerry Wallace encounters Dean Winchester, supposed Satanist.

On AO3 Here (or read under the cut!)

Full Tags: POV Outsider, This poor cemetery guard doesn't know what to do about Dean Winchester, Dean seems insane, BAMF Castiel, Early Seasons Dean and Cas, Pre-Relationship Dean and Cas, Pre-Friendship Dean and Cas, somehow they still manage to flirt though, POV Character is briefly threatened by Dean Winchester but it all ends OK,Humor

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Jerry Wallace has seen a lot of satanic rituals. A Iot. Candles and daggers, pentagrams, hoods and chanting; you name it, he’s seen it. As the head of security — and only guard — of Sullivan Cemetery, he’s bound to have run into the occasional devil worshipper (and worse. People dig up graves for really unsavory reasons). It doesn’t even faze him anymore. There’s not much Jerry Wallace hasn’t seen.

But tonight, as he sweeps his flashlight back and forth across the dewy grass, making his rounds and sipping on his steaming coffee, something stops him short. He narrows his eyes and cocks his head to listen. There’s a scuffling sound up ahead, from just outside the Bennett mausoleum. It sounds too big to be any of the usual animals. Humans, then. Jerry sighs. He was hoping for a quiet night, so he could make himself comfortable under the lamp at the cemetery entrance and read the book his teenage son, Andrew, had lent him. Cemetery Boys, it’s called. Jerry finds it fitting.

A man’s rough voice rings out from around the corner of the mausoleum. “Dammit, Sam, you can’t give me any hints?”

Jerry blinks at the audacity. Who sneaks into a cemetery at night and doesn’t even try to be quiet about it? He decides to give these particular satanists a little scare, just to teach them a lesson. He switches off his flashlight and gently sets his precious cup of coffee on top of the nearest headstone. Time to have some fun.

He sneaks on silent feet across the grass, clutching his flashlight tight in hand and deciding which tactic he wants to use. The reliable old jump scare? Flashlight beam to the face and an earsplitting yell — it’s worked well on thrill-seeking teenagers in the past. Or the more tricky option, creeping around and making ghostly sounds to unnerve the trespassers so thoroughly that they leave? More time investment, but also more amusing in the long run — Jerry decides on Option Two.

The wall of the mausoleum gives him excellent cover to start his performance. He sidles up along it, to the very edge. The intruders are just around the corner, and it sounds like one of them’s rummaging around in a bag of some sort. Jerry rolls his eyes. Probably some weirdos with spray paint, here to deface the walls of the mausoleum with symbols that take ages to wash off. Jerry opens his mouth and is about to emit his first long, ghostly moan, when the same voice as before pipes up again.

“Picking the lock didn’t work, Sam, I’m telling you, it’s gonna take longer. You gotta hold her off.”

The other person — Sam — doesn’t reply, though. Jerry furrows his brow. Who’s being held off? He decides to get a better picture of the scene before initiating his plan. Very slowly, he pokes just the right side of his face around the corner. The front of the small white building is washed in moonlight, the nearest lamp a ways down the path.

There’s a man crouched outside the mausoleum, maybe in his late twenties, from what Jerry can tell in the low light. He’s wearing an oversized leather jacket over a patterned shirt, with jeans and sturdy-looking boots. His short hair is spiked a bit in the front.

He doesn’t look like a satanist. Jerry stays very still, breathing shallowly and watching.

The man has both hands in a medium-sized duffel bag, rooting around. The contents of the bag are clanging and thudding. With a triumphant exhale, the man stands up, crowbar in hand. Jerry balks. This is already a step beyond chanting and spray paint. Again, nothing he hasn’t seen before, though.

What Jerry couldn’t see while the man was crouched, that now makes itself clear, is that he has a mobile phone pressed between his shoulder and ear. As the man advances on the door with the crowbar, he barks into the phone, “Update, Sammy. You still kicking?”

Jerry can’t make out Sam’s muffled response, but it obviously displeases the man, because he whacks the crowbar against the mausoleum door with a frustrated growl. “Watch your back. Figure out what the hell I’m supposed to burn!” He flips the phone shut and stuffs it into his jacket pocket.

This is getting stranger and stranger. Jerry watches as the man goes to town on the mausoleum door, an offense that Jerry would usually be more inclined to stop from happening. Something about this man, though, about the way he carries himself and the way he talks, is holding Jerry back.

He’s very glad about his decision to stay put about ten seconds later, when the man drops the crowbar to the ground with a clang and pulls a gun out of his jacket. Jerry doesn’t even carry a gun. His heart starts beating and his palms prickle with sweat. He didn’t sign up for this. Who brings a gun to a cemetery?

The man steps back a couple feet, points the handgun at the lock, hunches his shoulders, and fires. Jerry barely has the wherewithal to throw himself back around the corner and press his hands over his ears before the shot goes off. He feels it reverberate through the wall, twice, as the man fires again. Fully out of sight now, Jerry gingerly lowers the zipper on his jacket and reaches into his chest pocket for his radio. He needs to call this in. This is way above his pay grade.

“Dammit!” the man yells. The gun must’ve been ineffective. Jerry mentally pats himself on the shoulder. He requested upgrades to all mausoleum locks after a series of break ins last year, and it looks like the security company came through.

Jerry hears the keypad of the mobile phone beeping as the man punches in a number, then there’s muffled ringing. Jerry uses the sound as cover to pull his radio out and to inch his face around the corner again so he has a visual of the scene.

The man’s phone rings and rings. With another frustrated yell, the man slaps it shut and paces back and forth in front of the door, one hand running through his hair, the other still holding his gun. After a few moments, he stops in his tracks. He’s facing Jerry’s direction, silvery moonlight throwing his cheekbones in sharp relief. He looks like a respectable young man, really. Jerry wonders where he lost his way.

There’s a set of complicated emotions working their way across the man’s face. His eyebrows are pinched in concentration, eyes squeezed shut, lips moving as if he’s talking to himself. This lasts about ten seconds before he throws up his hands and glares at the sky.

“Oh, come on!” he shouts. “Get your harp-toting ass down here! Castiel!”

Jerry, who prides himself on never swearing, thinks: What the fuck.

The man is obviously disturbed. He needs a doctor. Jerry glances down at the radio in his hand, and presses the emergency button. He can’t afford a conversation with dispatch; the man will overhear. This will at least get someone out here.

When Jerry looks back up, he twitches. There are now two men in front of the mausoleum. The newcomer is wearing a long trenchcoat and standing stiffly. He’s facing away from Jerry, looking at the gunman, sensible shoes planted hip-width apart. His messy dark hair blends into the shadows.

Where on earth did he come from? Jerry darts his eyes around. The mausoleum is on a slightly raised part of the cemetery, visibility clear in all directions. Even if the trenchcoat man had approached from the opposite side of the building, Jerry would have seen him.

“Cas,” the gunman says, voice heavy with something like — relief, perhaps? His tense posture relaxes slightly and he claps the trenchcoat man on the shoulder. “You took your time,” he accuses. “Can you open those doors?”

The trenchcoat man, Cas — is this Castiel? Jerry cannot keep up — turns slightly to regard the doors.

“This is why you prayed to me?” Cas’ voice is deeper than the gunman’s, rougher. He speaks like a robot. “Heaven is at war, Dean. You call me to help you break down a door?”

Jerry’s brain is spinning. Are these… actors? Cosplayers? He learned about cosplayers from Andrew. Some of them do have very elaborate costumes. Jerry squints at Cas’ back. This doesn’t look like a costume, though. Cas looks like a tax accountant. Like he should be at home with his family at this time of night.

“Sam’s in trouble,” Dean’s saying, an ever-so-slight pleading edge to the words. “I gotta get in here, Cas, or he’s gonna meet a real bad end. I know you’ve got the mojo, come on!”

“I do not exist to do your bidding,” Cas replies. He strides over to the doors, though, trenchcoat flapping around his calves. “I do not serve you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re a warrior.” Dean’s hovering at Cas’ shoulder. “Can you blast ‘em?”

Cas lays a hand on the doors, long fingers splayed against the metal. Jerry glances down at his radio again. The red button is flashing, indicating that he’d called for help, but he can’t hear any sirens yet. He hopes they send enough officers for two grave-desecrating weirdos.

“Stand back,” Cas says. “And tell the man behind the wall to stand back, too.”

“What?” Dean’s head whips around.

Jerry hastily pulls his head out of sight, heart racing. Oh, no. He’s seen enough. He can ID these two for the cops later. He doesn’t need to be on the scene.

He turns heel to run, but makes it only two steps before a hand grabs his collar and yanks him back. The air is knocked out of him and he yelps, feet scrabbling on the pavement as a strong arm drags him around the corner. He lands on his butt in front of the doors, palms scraping on the ground. He quickly raises one over his head in surrender.

“Please— please, I have a family!” He keeps his eyes averted. Dean’s boots are inches away from his legs. “Don’t hurt me, I won’t say a word, I promise!”

“You the guard?” Dean crouches down in front of him. Oh, lord, the gun is trained on Jerry’s face. He whimpers and nods.

“Great. Give me the keys to the doors. Stat.” A palm appears in front of Jerry’s chest, held out in expectation. He hesitates. Isn’t that aiding and abetting?

No way. He’s at gunpoint. He nods again, fervently, and fumbles in his pocket for his ring of keys. His hand shakes violently as he drops them onto Dean’s outstretched palm. He sneaks a peek up at the men.

“Cas,” Dean says, tossing the keys to the trenchcoat man. “Figure out which one it is. I’ll deal with him.”

Cas catches the keys. “So, you do not want me to break the doors?”

“No— just—” Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, lips pressed together. “Just unlock them.” Cas scowls, but begins slotting the various keys into the mausoleum lock.

Dean turns back to Jerry and waves a hand in front of his face. “Hey,” he snaps. Jerry meets his eyes, conscious that he must look utterly terrified. He hopes it’ll appeal to any sense of humanity in this gun-toting lunatic.

“Whatever you think I am, I’m not,” Dean says, quickly and gruffly. “I’m not some pervert tryin’ to get my rocks off with Sleeping Beauty in there. I haven’t got time to ease you in slow, so here it is: ghosts are real. There’s one after my brother. I can gank it, but I gotta burn some hair or somethin’, something keepin’ it here. That’s all. Once Cas opens the doors, I’ll be in and out. We don’t have to get nasty. I’m even saving your doors from gettin’ blasted, as a favor. ”

Jerry picks and chooses what to process of that. “You have a gun pointed at me.”

Dean glances at the gun, like he’s just now realizing he still has it trained on Jerry. He lowers it. “Sorry. Had to let you know I’m serious. You gonna let me do my thing, or we gonna have a problem?”

The police will be here soon, Jerry thinks. It’s not my responsibility to stop this maniac.

“No problem,” he says. Dean nods once, satisfied, and in that moment, the lock clicks. The doors swing open heavily. Dean springs to his feet and races toward the mausoleum.

“Awesome, Cas!” he shouts, slapping a palm against Cas’ chest as he passes. Cas looks after him, a bemused expression on his face.

“I don’t know what to burn!” Dean hollers from inside.

Jerry is so far past trying to understand any of this. He nurses his scraped palms, huddling on the cold pavement and thinking of the book Andrew gave him. He wanted to finish a few chapters tonight so they could talk about them over breakfast tomorrow. He hopes he gets the chance.

Jerry is tough, but his eyes sting a little as he thinks about it.

“Dean is a good man,” Cas suddenly says, in that mechanical way of his. “Righteous. He won’t harm a human.”

Jerry stares at him in disbelief. There’s nothing he can say to that, beyond “Okay.” Cas just nods, and turns to gaze into the darkness of the mausoleum. There’s a lot of scraping and clattering echoing from the room inside, as if Dean is dismantling the place. He probably is, Jerry thinks miserably as the sound of breaking glass reaches his ears.

Dean comes storming back out of the room, assorted items piled in his arms. Jerry recognizes the doll that’s usually propped up behind the glass of the Bennett daughter’s crypt, and a locket that hangs behind the mother’s. A whole array of other personal effects that Jerry spends his nights guarding also end up on the pavement at Dean’s feet. Dean dives into his duffel bag, pulling out a can of gasoline. He douses the whole pile in the acrid-smelling stuff — Jerry’s nostrils sting and he coughs, scrabbling a little farther away. Dean pulls a lighter out of pocket and flicks it several times, cursing when it doesn’t ignite.

“Allow me,” Cas says, stepping forward. He pauses. “Close your eyes.”

Jerry throws an arm over his eyes without a second thought, just catching sight of Dean doing the same. His jacket sleeve does very little, though, to shield his eyes from the brilliant blue-white light that rips through the darkness. It feels like a bonfire, there one moment and gone the next, leaving the tips of Jerry’s hair singed. He cowers, eyes pressed shut, heaving huge breaths.

“Damn, Cas,” Dean says, voice tinged with awe. “Thanks for the assist.”

Jerry lowers his (slightly smoking) arm and peers at where the pile of belongings once lay. It’s completely gone, reduced to ash, just smoldering dust on the pavement. How on Earth—

In that moment, Dean’s mobile phone rings. He frantically plunges a hand into his jacket and rips it out, flipping it open.

“Sammy?” he asks sharply, pressing the phone to his ear. The voice on the other end mumbles something and Dean sags in relief, dragging a hand over his face. “Close call, huh? Yeah, glad it worked.”

Jerry tunes out the rest of Dean and Sam’s conversation. His eyes travel from the smoking pile of dust, to Cas (who’s standing motionless, staring at Dean), to the open mausoleum door, to his own hands, trembling in his lap. A light catches his eye off to the side and he follows it, realizing it’s his radio, abandoned on the pavement, red emergency light still blinking steadily. He gazes at it like a lifeline.

“Is that— Did you—” Dean’s voice is suddenly closer, right next to Jerry, and he quickly looks up. Dean’s looking at the radio, too. His phone is closed in his hand; he must be done talking to his brother.

“The cops coming?” Dean demands, gesturing at the radio. Jerry doesn’t want to let on, he doesn’t, but faced with this strange, complicated, definitely violent person, he can’t hold out. He nods.

“Dammit,” Dean mutters. Just then, the first siren wails in the distance, growing louder by the second.

Finally.

Dean groans and rushes over to his duffel bag, throwing the can of gasoline back in and grabbing the crowbar off the ground to toss that in, too. “Leave the keys, Cas,” he snaps at the trenchcoat man, who still has Jerry’s key ring dangling from his fingers. Cas drops the keys on the ground.

“Can you zap me to my car?” Dean hoists the duffel over his shoulder and faces Cas. “I won’t make it if I run.”

Cas steps closer to Dean, until he’s right in front of him. Their noses are just a few inches apart. Jerry, with nothing else to do but wait for his rescuers, watches them. Dean takes what looks like a shaky breath. His eyes flick down to Cas’ mouth. “You gonna stare, or you gonna help?” he asks, but it comes out small, a weak attempt at bravado.

Cas reaches out and places his hand over Dean’s left shoulder. “I’ll go with you,” he says, deep and measured, and in the next second, they’re gone. Just gone.

Jerry could swear he heard the flapping of wings. He sits there, numb, staring at the spot where they vanished.

Eventually, the yellow beams of flashlights dart across the front of the mausoleum and voices break through the fog in Jerry’s brain. A hand lands on his shoulder. “Sir, are you all right?”

He’s saved.

There’s a lot of questions from the responding officers, a lot of Jerry having to recount what he saw, picking and choosing details — which of course renders his story utterly implausible — and a lot of nobody believing him; there’s a breathalizer test — humiliating — that of course comes back clean (whether that’s better or worse for him, Jerry’s not so sure), and a round of paperwork, and finally, finally, Jerry is allowed to go.

He stumbles down the cemetery path in a daze, passing his long-cold cup of coffee, still perched on its headstone. He snags it and throws it away in the trash can at the cemetery gates. The officers said they would lock the mausoleum and the security station; Jerry was supposed to go home. He stops briefly at his station, though, to grab Andrew’s book.

He’s not quite ready to go home yet. He’s not sure what to say.

Jerry makes himself comfortable in the front seat of his car, overhead light on, and cracks open his book. He starts to read.

[tragicxensemble]

☾︎♫︎ 𝘼𝙡𝙚𝙭 𝙆𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙫 𝙭 𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠!𝙁𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ♫︎☽︎

𝙃𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝙔𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨! (If you celebrate it.)🤠🥳

Posted: 12.31.20 10:36PM

⚠️🔞 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 🔞⚠️

This post contains mature themes; If you feel uncomfy please scroll! Thank you!!

Also I apologize if there is errors!

Summary: You and Alex are coming home from a New Years' party and you guys are in a festive mood to celebrate...

   It's was already 11 pm when you and Alex came home from a New Years' party that was held at the hospital. Alex helped you up the stairs to your guy's home, as you were wearing heels that made your feet very uncomfortable as if you were stepping on rocks. As he opens the sliding door, you walking in behind him, you immediately threw your shoes off your feet and sighed. Alex immediately repeated the same action, because he too was tired. You quickly walked over to your guy's shared bed and threw yourself on it.

   "Ugh, I'm so tired," you yawned, "And so sleepy." You watched as Alex went straight to the fridge and grabbed a beer. "If they hadn't talked so damn much about the new charting systems, then we would have been out of there instantly." Alex chuckled as he took a sip of his beer. You sat up on the bed and stared at Alex. He noticed this rather quickly. "What are you looking at?" He questioned. "Oh, it's nothing... I just wanted to say, you looked sexy tonight," You flirted as you strut towards him, "Dressing up in that suit, knowing full well that it turns me on." You responded as you rested your hands on his shoulders, slightly cursing to yourself at the noticeable height difference.

   Alex placed his beer down on the small kitchen island that he was leaning on so that he could place his hands around your waist to pull you closer to him. "Oh, yeah? I knew you were glancing at me every time I spoke to someone." Alex growled as he placed kisses on your neck. "And not to mention, your hair was amazing by the way. It took you almost an hour to slick it back in that puff. I came out well." Alex complimented. You laughed at his compliment and place a loving smooch on his lips. "I'm so glad you pay attention baby."

   Just then you had an idea. Putting your plan into action, you began to proceed. You began to move Alex to the bed and sit him down on it. Alex looked at you confusingly. "What are you doing? Or should I say, what are you planning?" Alex asked in a joking manner. "I'm gonna fuck your brains out. Besides, new year new me right?" You replied with a devious smirk. Alex's face turned a bright red when those words were heard. "Woah... W-wait a minute!" Alex stammered, "What do you mean by that?" He questioned as you sat on his lap and began to take his suit and tie off.

   "You'll see..." You commented as you placed kisses on Alex's neck while slowly grinding on him. You got up off of him and began to take your clothes off. Alex watched lustfully as you strip teased him. Finally, after stripping you kneeled in between his legs. "Look how hard you are," You purred, "And I haven't even touched you yet." You said as you rubbed his clothed cock, Alex groaning in frustration. "Please, just - just fuck me..." He mumbled the last words as he looked away. "What did you say? I couldn't hear you." You teased as you unbuckled his belt, then pulling his pants down.

   "I-I said just fuck me..." He stuttered nervously as he looked you in the eyes. This was the first time that you saw him like this; seeing him a nervous mess. It made you feel very giddy inside. "Sure thing." You hummed as you freed his cock from his boxers. "Mm, look how big it is." You praised as you placed kissing along the shaft of his cock, then kitty licking the tip. You earned a medium pitched moan from Alex as you continued to coat your saliva on his cock, ever so often giving his ball attention too.

   You took him deep in your mouth and earned a low groan from him. "Oh, fuck... Your mouth feels so good around my cock like that..." Alex moaned as you began to suck him off. Feeling touched deprived you began to touch yourself a bit as you continued to please your husband. After sucking on his cock for a good while, you switched your tongue with your hand. "Are you getting close?" You questioned as Alex's body began to twitch from the pleasure, your hand speeding up.

  "Y-yes. I'm... I'm gonna..." Alex whined as he felt his orgasm building up. "Come on Alex, cum for me. I know you can do it." You encouraged as Alex's moans became louder. You knew Alex was about to cum because his moans began to get higher. Alex's body began to spasm as he began to feel his orgasm overcome him, warm cum slightly shooting out of his cock and landing on your hands. Alex huffed as he began to catch his breath. "You did so good baby." You praised as you grabbed a tissue and cleaned him.

   "Is... This what you meant by fucking my brains out?" Alex spoke while still catching his breath. "No. But I'm about to show you. Lay back on the bed." You demanded as you stood up. Alex obeyed. You got on top of him grabbed his cock. You then began to position yourself on his cock, then slowly sunk on it. You bother groaned as you began to ride him at a slow pace, receiving low groans from Alex. "It feels too good... Fuck..." You moaned as you picked up the pace, pounding Alex's cock inside of you.

   Alex's face began to contort as his orgasm was building up again. "Are you gonna cum again?" You questioned as you went even faster, "Cum inside of me." You offered as you went deeper, know that this was driving him crazy. Beads of sweat formed on his face as he came inside of you. You slowed down a bit and waited for Alex to catch his breath, then continued to bounce on him. "W-wait! It's... too sensitive!! Oh... God, please... Wait..." Alex whined as you overstimulated him. All that was heard was the skin slapping against each other and Alex's pleads and whines for you to stop.

   You could feel your orgasm building up as you went deeper and sloppily. "Are you gonna cum?" You asked. Alex nodded as he dug his nails into your hips. "Okay, cum with me. Cum inside me again." You groaned as you felt your body shiver against him. You leaned forward and dug your head in his neck and you clenched onto his cock. You thrust into him one last time then you both came. You both stared at each other as you caught your breaths. After catching your breath you leaned and kissed Alex on his lips.

   "How was that?" You said as you pulled him out of you and cuddled him. "That," Alex chuckled, "That was amazing. No one's ever made me feel like that. That was too good." Alex replied. "I'm glad you felt that way," You cooed, "Besides, I've never seen you whine and plead like that. It was like you were a different person." You teased. "Hey, knock it off." Alex blushed and looked away. "Your moans were so loud Alex. Oh, but I loved it when you were begging for me to stop." You teased even more. 

   You guys laid together in comfortable silence, as all that was heard the ticking or your small clock above your bed. "Happy New Year Alex," You said as you looked at the digital clock on your nightstand, "I hope that our relationship has more to come in the upcoming year." You said as you kissed him on his cheek. "Happy New Year to you too."

*******

[mrslangdon666]

“Something’s Wrong” Part 1

Outpost! Michael x reader smut + fluff.

Summary: The reader is a virgin and when Michael and her finally have sex, they both discover something is wrong when she’s in a heavy amount of pain (in the next part she finds out she has endometriosis). Michael comforts her and is just an absolute sweetheart. I relate to this a lot because it’s how my first time went, except I wasn’t comforted or anything like that:(

Warning: Smut, endometriosis, light daddy kink, crying, a little blood.

Y/N POV

This was it. You were about to have sex with your beautifully handsome fiancé, the antichrist. Michael had assured you that there was absolutely no rush, that they could finally do it fully when you were 100% ready. So after telling him at dinner, here you were now. Laying naked underneath his angelically sculpted body, filled with need, but also worry. You weren’t a fool, you and Michael had done other things before. He was huge. Eight inches of circumcised, thick, and veiny cock. Talk about sculpted by the gods...he could tell you were nervous and stroked your face gently.

“It’s alright darling. I’ll stretch you out nice and good so it won’t be as painful.” He said softly, kissing your cheek before trailing down your stomach before arriving at the final destination. He spread your thighs apart with his large hands before spreading apart your lips. He used his other hand to gather the wetness that dripped from your entrance to rub onto your clit. He moved in circles on it, before alternating in figure eights. You moaned softly at his sultry touch before he put two of his fingers into his mouth, getting them wet. Two fingers was all you’d ever taken from him. He lined them up at your entrance and pushed slowly, watching as your cunt enveloped his fingers. He pumped at a medium pace, and you heard the wet sound of it fill the heavy air.

“You look so pretty like this baby girl. Can I add one more?” You nodded frantically, eager to have more of him. And so he added another, and you slightly winced at it, but the pain was quickly cancelled out by pleasure. He made a “come here” motion with his three fingers, hitting your spongy g-spot perfectly.

“Feels so good daddy...I-I’m gonna cum...” You said with a breathy and shaky voice.

“Come on my fingers my love. That’s it, good girllll.” He praised as you clenched around his fingers with a moan. He rode out your orgasm before pulling out his fingers and licking them clean.

“Do you think you’re ready now baby? Remember, we don’t have to do this to—“ He began kindly before you cut him off.

“No no, I’m ready. I want you Mikey.” He smiled gently at the nickname before nodding and taking your lips in for a kiss against his soft and plump ones. You looked down at his cock, and sure enough it was harder than you’d ever seen it. The head was glowing an angry red, you could tell he was excited. He grabbed the lube from the night stand and applied it to his cock and your entrance so it would be easier for your first time. Once lubricated, he looked up at you for approval. You nodded, and he began to push the massive tip in, immediately stopping and pulling out when you yelped at the stretch.

“Oh no, did I hurt you darling? I’m so sorry I—“

“It’s okay, please try again...please.” You said and he gave you a questioning look before agreeing. He started to push the tip in and this time he got it inside of you. Tears welled in your eyes, but you pushed through. You told him to keep going, and he hesitantly did so until he was all the way inside of you. Tears were streaming down your cheeks at the sharp pain that afflicted your narrow walls. He kissed away the tears without skipping a beat and rubbed your arm soothingly.

“It’s okay sweet girl, take all the time you need. It’s okay.” He sweetly said, and you realized how lucky you were to have him. When you finally nodded for him to start moving, he did so softly and slowly, afraid to hurt you. The pain wasn’t going away, it was getting worse. Michael noticed that your discomfort wasn’t fading, and he also noticed something else. A thick line of blood was now covering his cock and starting to pool on the sheets. Before he could make sure you didn’t see the blood, it was too late. He saw you looking down in horror at the red, a hand now covering your face in embarrassment. Michael carefully pulled out of your heat, his libido now replaced with concern for you.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s alright. Come here baby, come to daddy. It’s just blood, it’s normal for your first time, but the pain you were experiencing wasn’t...we need to get you to a doctor love.” This only made you cry harder. You didn’t understand why this was happening to you, and you felt awful. This night was supposed to be special for you and Michael, and you had ruined it. He read your thoughts because you weren’t responding.

“No. You did not ruin it. This is not at all your fault. Do you understand me? I’m not mad at you whatsoever sweet girl. It’s okay, shhhh.” He rubbed your back as you cried harder into his chest.

“I-I don’t k-know what’s wrong with m-me...” you sobbed more and more. He simply kept rubbing your back before placing gentle kisses on the top of your head.

“Come on baby let’s run you a bath okay? I’ll phone the doctor too so we can see what’s up.” As soon as he lifted you to stand and your feet hit the ground, you almost fell down from the now dull ache between your legs. He frowned at you pain and picked you up bridal style carrying you to the bathroom. He ran the water until it was warm and added some of that lavender bath salt you liked to help you calm down. Once the tub was half way full he placed you in it. When he turned to leave you whined.

“I’m coming back sweetheart don’t worry, I’m just going to phone the doctor. I’ll be right back.” He said looking at you with sorrow. He was so upset at how much pain you were in, he hated it. The other thing he knew was that you absolutely hated doctors. You were afraid of them and he knew getting you there would probably result in a panic attack on your end, so it was going to be hard. Either way, he’d be there for you like he always was and help you through every step.

Part 2 coming soon!

Xoxo, Mrs. Langdon🖤🫀

[gallaghersgal]

Songbird c2: Honey Hi || Frankie Morales

Pairing: Frankie Morales × gn!reader

Summary: A couple weeks after first meeting the kind bartender with the warm brown eyes, you begin to get to know him better.

Warnings: none ??

A/N: I can't believe im already losting chapter 2 what the hell its only been a week since this idea came to me

Wordcount: 2k

Series Masterlist

xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx

You stood back, looking at the loose outline of a song you had just scrawled across the chalkboard wall in your room. You had a good feeling about this one. All you needed was one good afternoon to sit down and put it to music before it would be ready for the citizens of Boston. You had picked up a couple of regulars after eight months of busking, they enjoyed your original songs and had even bought the shitty CDs you'd made with a mixture of covers and original material. Speaking of busking...

You looked out your window to make sure the bright, cloudless sky hadn't changed since sunrise, then grabbed your acoustic guitar and headed out.

The sun shined on you as you made your way through the streets of Boston, past restaurants and studios, across crosswalks and through the crowds. As you passed the Sunrise Theater, your thoughts fell warmly on the fond memories you had already made there. It had been a few weeks since Rumors in the Night started weekly gigs there. The money was doing you well, but you still took to the streets two or three times a week. It wasn't even really for the money, although a couple extra dollars from passerby was a bonus. What you really loved was the performance, sharing a part of yourself with an indifferent world. If you could bring a smile to the face of just one lonely passerby, you felt you had done good.

You set up in the shadow of a bank, in a small alcove where the walls would push your voice outwards. You sat your donation jar at your feet and unzipped your guitar case, pulling it out and beginning tuning. When everything was set, you began to sing.

"Honey, honey, honey / Who could be sweeter than you / Honey, honey, honey / Bitter sweet, but what can I do." 

You were completely carefree, singing on the streets of Boston. This city was beginning to feel a bit like home, although you knew you wouldn't be here for long. Your eyes were still fixed on LA, on the lights of Hollywood. You longed to see your name in lights, headlining at the Hollywood Palladium. 

"Lord it's been good to talk to you / Even sweeter than wine / Don't take the love light away / Cause I'm far away from home / Daddy, all I'm trying to tell you / Lord, I really love you, love you, love you."

This was a good song to warm up with, medium paced and not too vocally challenging. It sounded better with a full band, though. You would have to ask Fatima if you could put it on the setlist for your gig in the park this weekend.

"Honey, honey, honey, hi / honey, honey, honey hi / honey, honey, honey hi."

You watched a child come up and drop a few coins into your jar and you smiled, leading straight into your next song. You ran through Have You Ever Seen The Rain by Creedence Clearwater Revival, Waiting on the World to Change by John Mayer, Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac and a couple others you had in your repertoire. You liked to finish up with Thank You for the Music by ABBA, it was a favorite of yours but it took a while to warm up for.

"Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing / Thanks for all the joy they're bringing / Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty / What would life be? / Without a song or a dance what are we? / So I say thank you for the music / For giving it to me."

There was no one around, but you didn't care. This song meant something to you, and you were going to sing it for the world to hear.

"So I say / Thank you for the music, for giving it to me."

As you finished the song, a familiar face appeared in front of you. 

"You take requests?" Frankie asked, a smile tugging at his lips. 

You chuckled, grabbing our water bottle and taking a quick sip. "Yeah, if I know 'em. I was just about to pack up for lunch but one more song won't hurt. For a friend, of course."

"A friend?" he asked, a gleam in his eye.

"An acquaintance. Someone I know. But anyway, hit me."

"Landslide," he said, and you rolled your eyes. "What!? It's my favorite."

"You could pick something a little more original," you teased as you tucked your pick into your pocket and started to pluck the opening of the song. Frankie backed up against the lamp post to your right, settling his arms across his chest.

"I took my love, I took it down / I climbed a mountain and I turned around / and I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills / 'til the landslide brought me down."

The song was well known, and it brought you a small crowd almost immediately.

"Oh mirror in the sky, what is love / can the child within my heart rise above / can I sail through the changing ocean tides / can I handle the seasons of my life," you smiled softly, looking at the faces around you as they stopped to watch. 

"Well I've been afraid of changing cause I built my life around you / but time makes you bolder even / even children get older / and I'm getting older too."

You closed your eyes, letting the music take you over. You lost yourself in the song until it was over and the five or so people around you were clapping quietly and nodding in appreciation. 

"Thank you, thank you," you stooped to place your guitar in its case, watching from the corner of your eye as the onlookers drop a dollar or two into your jar. You looked up when you saw a twenty flutter into the jar, your eyes meeting Frankie's kind gaze.

"No, no I can't-"

"Nonsense," he said, "I liked your music, and you deserve it."

You zipped up your guitar case, taking the bill from the jar and pressing it back into Frankie's hand. "I can't take your money, Frankie."

He chuckled at your persistence. "Alright, alright. You said you were headed to lunch?"

You shrugged, "I was gonna go home, maybe make myself some ramen…"

"On a day like this?" Frankie shook his head, then jerked it to the side, asking for you to follow him. "C'mon, we're getting you some real food."

You huffed out a breathless laugh as you slung your guitar case across your back. "Maybe that's a good idea. I've been living here for nine months and the only restaurant i've ever really been to is the Thai place over on Matthews."

"You can't be serious," his voice was thick with disbelief as he looked back at you. You nodded, confirming your statement was true and he hadn't heard you wrong.  "What about the others, Ezra and them… Are they the same?"

"Ezra's a native Bostonian, but he's not big on restaurants. Julian and Cade both moved here around a year ago and me and Fatima have been here for nine months, we moved together. So we're all pretty new here, except for Ezra." You watched with curious eyes as Frankie waved to a man across the street selling snow cones. He was just so personable, no wonder it felt like you'd known him forever even though it had only been a couple of weeks since you met. He adjusted his gait for a second so you'd fall into place beside him, and for a moment you felt your heart flutter. 

"I'm from Eastern North Carolina, originally-"

"I can hear it, you've got a bit of an accent," there was a twang to some of the words he spoke, something that gave him a bit of a southern gentleman flair. And he was a gentleman, as far as you could tell.

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement. "Folks here say that too. I moved her when I was eighteen but I guess it never really left me."

"You can take the man out of the south-"

"But you can't take the south from the man," Frankie finished. His cheeks were tinted a little pink, a smile falling into place on his lips.

Momentarily, you paused to admire him. "Do you miss home?"

He shrugged, "Yeah, I miss it sometimes. I go back once a year over the summer, to visit my family. My sister and my nephews are still down there, and my mom and dad. But this is my home now, I don't think I'll ever leave."

You found yourself in front of a corner hotdog shop, and Frankie opened the door for you. The place looked like it was straight out of the 60's, checkered tile and all. "This is real food?"

Frankie looked offended as he sat down in one of the booths. "And here I thought you'd appreciate this," he pulled one of the menus out and handed one to you as you slid in across from him. 

You looked over the menu, looking for something that would catch your eye. "What do you suggest," you asked Frankie, laying your menu flat and tucking your feet up under the booth so you wouldn't kick him.

"This." He pointed out a burger, and you had to admit it looked good. "Best burger I've ever had, I swear on everything holy you'll love it."

The waiter came and took your orders, you got the burger Frankie had suggested and a strawberry milkshake to go with it. Afterwards, you found yourself staring off at the Jukebox by the counter. You wondered what they had in there, and if it was automated or authentic.

As if reading your thoughts, Frankie tossed you a quarter. You barely caught it, watching in confusion as he stood. "It's old school, just like everything else in here." You followed him over to the jukebox, and laughed when he pulled out a pair of reading glasses to see the small print of the track listing.

"What are you, fifty?" you teased.

"Watch it," he returned with a playful glare. "I'm paying for your lunch."

"Frankie you don't have to-" you started, but he shook his head.

"I'm paying, end of story. Can't have you thinking I'm not a gentleman." Your eyes fell on the gentle crinkles by his eyes that showed up when he smiled, and you wondered how anyone could mistake him for anything other than a gentleman. But you kept your mouth closed. "Now c'mon, pick a song, Songbird."

* * * * * * * * * * *

That night you found yourself sitting with Fatima, eating ice cream and watching a baking marathon on the food network. But your thoughts weren't on the contestants' lemon meringue pies. You were staring at the wall, your lunch with Frankie running through your head. Your lunch… date? No, that wasn't a date. That was just a lunch between acquaintances. Between friends.

You began to turn to Fatima, but as always she was ahead of you. She had turned down the TV and was already turned towards you, waiting. "He likes you."

You weren't even surprised, Fatima knew you better than anyone else. Of course she knew what you were thinking. "You think so?" you asked, and Fatima glared at you.

"Yes, I know so."

You tucked your knees against your chest, pulling your spoon out of your tub of Ben and Jerry's and chewing on it a little. Frankie was a kind man, you didn't want to read too much into his actions. But still, he had taken you out to lunch. And payed for your meal. And given you a nickname. "He called me songbird," you mused.

"Thats… That's adorable oh my god." Fatima sighed wistfully, eating a spoonful of her ice cream. "You should invite him to the show on Saturday!"

"I did. Well, I really just told him about it. But he said he'd be there. Is Landslide on the setlist?" you asked, and Fatima nodded. "Good. It's his favorite."

"What would you say if he asked you out?"

"I think…" you paused, but there was no need to. "I think I'd say yes."

End.

Permanent Taglist: @poestardust @tinyphantomsalad @thelazyhero-ttums @poe-djarin @djarinsidebitch

Pedro Taglist: @blackmarketmummy @coldlilheart @agentshortstacc

Frankie Taglist: @remmysbounty

[griffin-wood]

arms open

pairing: kent zarneki x f!button (maia wiseman)

game: mindblind

summary: a scenario based on this ask. titled based on the song - 'arms open' by the script.

tw: minor mentions of death and gunshots.

Death. People said it was inevitable, they said it can’t be avoided – because, it is true everybody is going to die someday. Yet, the remainder of those who have left before us, somehow gave an unfamiliar ache – as we longed for their presence, as we grieved for the time that was missed, the words that were left unsaid, as the memories in our conscious were the only reminder of how they impact us that has grace upon the earth.

The reminders of death; the sudden heartache. The lingering effects afterward become a topic that has been occupied in the head of Maia Wiseman. It was one of those days she dreaded for him, as she glances upon Kent who’s eyes remain on the road. The drive isn’t too long, apparently, they were taking their time today. His expression remains natural, somehow today was just another normal day as always. Maia nods silently at his expression before her hand found his giving it a squeeze as they arrived at Aeon.

They parted ways, as Maia kisses him lightly on the cheek before they went to their separate ways. Their paths to be crossed seems unlikely, yet his figure can be seen from afar – as he listens intently to what Glitch is saying. His head tilted to the side, meeting her eyes from the other side of the room. She plastered a convincing smile, as it is a reminder that she is there. He nods – returning the smile as they parted ways once again.

The day was long, as he remains calm. He was okay, he is still okay. He reminds himself – it's just another day, everything will be okay, and… he will be okay. The day followed by a peaceful evening; as peaceful as it could be with Maia leaning on his side, eyes focused on the movie they decided to tune, with Annie and Cass seated on their laps, growls escaped from them both as Kent chuckles at the sight of it. Somehow, in a single moment – his chest ache, a painful feeling begins to stir as the unexpected tears began to well up in his eyes. With a deep breath, he pushed it all away – hides it from the audience; hiding it from Maia. It was a talent, he has been an expert on for years.

He excuses himself, “I’ll get us some blankets from the back.” As he noted, the slight shiver from Maia herself – as she nods to him. He leaves the room immediately, as Maia notes his fast pace as worry wells in her stomach, with Annie and Cass following her gaze where Kent was a few moments ago. She shakes her head with an attempt to focus on the movie once again, as both of the dogs snuggle along her side, as the worry in her didn’t subside.

Kent moves away from the room – away from them. He could feel his knees beginning to give out. He mentally scolded himself, giving himself self-affirmations knowing he is not a crier, he was trained to not become one. Once upon a time, he remembers he was quite a crier himself – but, as the years goes by; the tears become numb. It numbs him from the inside, as he kept on repeating to himself;

He is okay, he will be okay – he has always been okay.

The room around him was a medium-sized room – nothing has changed except the contents inside which was very different from the days where his grandparents inherited the home. It was different, a good type of different as Maia’s clothes - a few of her clothes from Nick’s place can be seen hung neatly beside his. He began his search for the blanket, in hopes of keeping his feelings intact – yet, a sight of something familiar made his heart screams – a chill run down his spine.

He never noticed it before, he wasn’t aware of the presence of it – yet, it made so much sense. It was his grandparents house after all, he was bound to bump into the trinkets of his past. The past still gave an ache that he managed to hide for the last few years. His gaze stops at the part of the closet where it's hidden, it was his parent’s trinkets from the past, mostly his mother’s before he stops at a familiar sight. A picture to be exact, particularly of Maria Santos-Zarneki, holding little Kent in her arms with a wide smile on both of their faces. He doesn’t remember the events of that particular day, as the ache in his chest makes its return. Spreading, numbing him slowly – as he held onto the memory. He lets out a curse, as he tries to regain the strength, to peel his eyes away from the picture – meeting a stack of blankets which is his original intention. He pushed away from the emotions once again, he doesn’t want to feel it – Kent Zarneki is not weak, he…

The memory plays in his mind again, he remembered – how wide his smile was once upon a time. He remembered a memory, a smile – her smile, her voice as she sang a lullaby. The one that he sang for Annie and Cass before he hums it slowly. His eyes were shut, as he was transported into the memory, meeting his mother’s eyes – and the voice that assures him; he isn’t weak as he cries, the one who reminds him that she would always be there with him. And, the painful smiles were formed upon the familiarity – as he listens to the voice. It was a distant memory, as it dated more than a decade ago yet it was crystal clear.

He opens his eyes again, somehow a part of him is searching for her; the tip of his nose reddening – as the tears he fought brims at the edge of his eyes. He was in a daze, somehow a part of himself wished the memory came true. He wanted to see her again, as his body began to slide in defeat sinking himself into the wooden floors of the closet, a silent thud follows. He knew he can’t see her again, yet he wanted nothing more than that – his heart began to shatter.

The tears weren’t under his control anymore, as he tried his hardest to stop them. He has been holding it in – yet, the dam breaks. He wasn’t okay anymore, as he cradled his knees close. His breathing becomes shallow as the air was denied from his lungs.

It’s unreal how one’s life could change in a split second, as he remembers the unfaithful day. How his mother was controlled – and that gunshot, which has been haunting him ever since. A part of him was – is angry and filled with rage as he wants nothing more than to avenge the person who did it; yet there was the other half of him – who silently cries himself to sleep, wanting nothing more than to see her again. How much he longed to hug his mother again – and to hear her voice again. He grew up thinking he will be okay, that he will recover from his mother’s death that took a piece of him. However, at this moment - He knew, he is not okay as the sob that escaped him, signaling everything he needs to know.

Moments passed and it did not stop. The tears kept on flowing, sticking on his eyelashes, followed by the tightness in his throat. Nothing works, as the dam keeps on flowing as it keeps ongoing. It did not stop.

-

Maia counted the moments since he left the room, a worried expression strikes upon her as she stood up from the couch. She carefully steps away from the room – with silent steps, as Annie and Cass are both sound asleep on the couch. She shuts the movie, before turning on the night light as the skies become darker than before.

Her feet dragged her forward, as he heard a muffled sound came from the room. A flash of panic began to fill inside of her, as she leaped into the room. The sobs were heard, as her gray eyes met with him. In a blink of an eye, she rushed her way to him – her arms were wrapped around him, around his body, as she pulled him closer to her chest as more sobs escaped him, it was one of the sounds she never wished to hear. As she held onto him, she knows how much he did not deserve this pain – and with the knowledge in her mind that he is one of the strongest person she ever knows. She recalls the story Nick told her once upon a time along with her attempts of cyberstalking him from before and shivers – he has been very strong; he has been very brave as well.

He tried to hide this part of himself from her, he doesn’t want to make her worry but he can’t do it anymore. He couldn’t keep the façade up anymore. He tries his hardest to forget, yet every memory from his childhood began to reappear, all of it breaking him piece by piece, as he cried louder against her chest. He is a complete mess which is the opposite of what she has seen him every day. He has always been calm, cool, and collected, but life has other plans for this particular day. Maia knows upon this day, there were glances from the day before – he noticed the way she checks on him every hour. A part of him feels ugly, disgusted at himself wishing he could disappear at this very second. He wished to jump into a void to be with his mother, to hug her – and he wanted her to tell him that everything will be alright and leave the ache behind just for that one particular moment. Yet, the feel of her lips on top of his head pulls him back to life. He didn’t want to leave her behind. He didn’t want to leave the people who have been there for her – including her.

Maia kissed the top of his head, as she holds him; the sight of his vulnerability made her heartache. The tears began to well up in her eyes as well on seeing him as fragile as a house of cards. She tried to keep herself together, yet she has lost the battle of tears within seconds.

“It’s okay Kenzie, I’m here for you.” She said as laughter erupts from her mouth with the familiar nickname for him as she rubs his back while her arm is securely holding him. There was a sense of déjà vu in her voice to Kent, the sentence he has heard before – years before. The words that helped him survive his nights away from nightmares ;

‘It’s okay, the monsters aren’t going to catch you Kent. I’m always here for you baby.”

His mother’s voice rang in his ears, which initiates another round of tears for him – as Maia rubs his back, again and again, she didn’t stop. “Let it go Kenzie, it’s okay…I’m here with you.” He leans into the comfort of her words, and her touch, every inch of his body needed the support that she gladly give to him. Every part of him feels guilty as Maia holds him in her arms. She held him with much strength and protection in her embrace.

It reminded him of his mother’s embrace, a strong embrace with a slice of comfort. He pulls away for a moment, as Maia looks at him with a smile on her face with the tears which is also flowing on her face. Her hands wiped the tears on his cheek, as his words escaped his lips.

“Please…don’t leave me.” It was above a whisper, and below a scream. In some way, it's equivalent to a prayer of some sort – a wish that one would make during a shooting star. It tasted bitter on his lips, as he pleads silently to her. He has lost his mother before – he can’t lose her as well.

The request feels overwhelming on his tongue, yet she smiles at the request – as he pleads once again. “Please..” Her nods become resolute, her arms were around him once again; holding him as he cries once more into her shirt. She didn’t mind, as she whispers into his ear and promises. She knows even as the world ends, she never wanted to leave his side. He has been there for her countless times, she recalls all the time he has held her during her darkest moments – and now, it's her turn and nobody could stop her from protecting him.

“I won’t leave you, I promise.” She is known as one who keeps her promises, and she won’t leave. She never will leave him, as she assures him – wiping the tears away in a routine manner.

Maia rubs his back once again, before pulling him up with her as he stands beside her. She guides him out of the room, towards the bed a few inches away. She pulls the blanket over, as he gets himself comfortable. Maia follows suit, as she lays beside him holding him as he buried his head under the crook of her neck. She kisses on top of his forehead, before their hands finding one another in the dark with a hold that is similar to a knot. A fear in him surfaced that when he wakes up – she will disappear from his life forever, as his mother did.

But, she is there…

She will always be there. As he slowly falls into slumber – the sobs began to subside. She whispers the three words into his ears, kissing his head once more, before falling into the deep slumber alongside him. And, when he wakes up tomorrow - he knows…he knows that she will be there with her arms open for him as he did for her.

THE END.

a/n: i got pretty emo writing this, heck - i hope it doesn't seem to be ooc! If I do, I apologize since I haven't wrote anything in a while, plus...its quite.. a personal piece in a way. Credits also goes to@natesquill for this idea and our brainstorming session which often make us sob lol! . enjoy! <3

tags: @takemyopenheart , @wayhavenots , @homeformyheart , @mevnraels , @natesquill , @rosygray

[falseroar]

Dog Days Part 23: Almost Too Easy

((Y/N catches up with Wilford before they have a meeting with the studio’s manager.

This and the next part are both going to be on the longer side. I also feel like I should give a head’s up that there is some gaslighting happening the later conversation. Just one character being all around not okay, but that’s pretty normal for him.

And here are links to yesterday’s part and to the series masterlist if you need them.))

You waited until the studio doors closed behind the others, and then a little longer to give yourself time to breathe, to prepare yourself for what might happen next. And still, you had no idea what to say to the man who was still whistling to himself, as though waiting to be invited back into your earlier conversation.

“Colonel,” you said, and the whistling stopped.

Wilford looked over at you and beamed. “Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in years! I’ve gone through so many over the years, you know, can hardly keep track of them all…What did you say your name was, again?”

“What?” you stared at him, sure that he must be joking. But as the silence went on too long, you asked, “You don’t…you don’t remember me?”

Wilford approached and leaned on the back of the chair he had been sitting in a minute ago as he studied you. “Of course! You told me your name earlier, it was…Dave, right?”

“Dave?” you repeated.

“Dave!” Wilford plopped down in the chair and leaned toward you again, his eyes bright. “How have you been? How’s the wife and kids? See, couldn’t be sure, you don’t look like a Dave, but something about your face just reminded me of that name, you know?”

“Colonel, I’m not Dave,” you said. “You told me…you told me how Dave died, remember? Do you remember, we were sitting outside, and you—you showed me your arm?”

Wilford glanced down at his arm and rolled back his shirt sleeve to reveal the bite mark, still as livid as the first time he showed it to you, when he told you how the ambush on his unit ended with him bitten and his comrade past any hope of saving.

“Y-yeah, I remember…” Wilford said softly, running his fingers over the scars. “Good man, that Dave.”

He blinked hard for a moment before he looked back up at you, and for the first time, recognition seemed to spread across his face. “Y/N! Why, I haven’t seen you in ages! How have you been, what have you been up to?”

“I’ve been trapped in a mirror for decades.”

“Well, that’s still no excuse not to visit,” Wilford scolded, shaking a finger at you. “You’re as bad as that hunter, haven’t seen that guy since the party. Wonder what he’s been doing.”

“I think he’s been looking for you,” you said, thinking now might not be the time to bring up why. “Is there anyone else from the party that you have seen? Like…”

“I think that butler and the chef opened up a restaurant together,” Wilford said, scratching his chin. “Good place, fun crowd, you should go there sometime.”

“Yeah, I’ve been.” You hesitated, knowing who you really wanted to ask about, but before you got a chance, Wilford was practically in your face, grinning knowingly.

“Go there with someone else?” he asked. “Like on a date?”

“No. I was stuck as a wolf at the time, and couldn’t change back no matter how hard I tried.”

Wilford nodded, as though this was a common problem. “It’s hard to get back into the dating scene after a while. Just give it time, find someone special, you’ll work it out. And don’t marry just because they have a funny name, believe me, it does not last.”

“You got married? What about Celine?” you asked, realizing a fraction of a second too late what you had just said.

But instead of becoming upset, Wilford’s eyes went soft and he said, almost dreamily, “Oh, Celine. My heart still beats for her to this day, or as much as it beats for anything. But if she saw me, she’d probably carve mine out.”

You started to ask why he thought that, only for the memory of that face on the other side of the glass to come to mind, the look of utter disgust on his face before he walked away. So completely different than the man you thought you knew.

You blinked rapidly and focused on your breath, until you felt calm enough to take another shot at getting something close to an answer out of Wilford.

“At the restaurant, I was with someone else,” you said, trying to ignore the knowing smile on his face. “A man who called himself the Host.”

“Like the game show host?” Wilford asked. “Bim’s a bit hard not to recognize, but I can bring him back if you need another go at it—”

“No, not Bim. He wore bandages around his eyes, and walked with a staff. And he had a voice, that could get other people to do what he wanted. Does that sound familiar to you at all?”

There had to be some kind of connection here. At the park, where the Host had been attacked, you smelled what you now recognized was that magitek thing, Google, and his scent had led you to the disco, to Abe, to Wilford.

But Wilford shrugged and said, “Doesn’t ring a bell. Course, it all gets jumbled up, mixed together these days. That Google guy always says I’d wander off on my own if he wasn’t there to keep an eye on me, like I don’t do that every other day. You have to, around here, if you ever want to actually have some fun. Why, if it were up to him, I’d never leave the studio at all!”

“…Why are you here, Wilford?” It occurred to you that Bim had acted as though he had been asked to find somewhere to put Wilford, as though someone had brought him into the studio and only then realized they needed something for him to actually do. You remembered the flyer, the note written on the back of it. “Who asked you to come here?”

He winked at you and said, “Same one who invited you, I’m guessing. You are a VIP, after all.”

Your mind immediately went to the scent that took you from the park to that flyer, to Google. He worked for the studio, but who did he answer to, really? The Jim twins and Bim both invoked the studio’s policies and rules when talking to him—if he really was just a mixture of magic and technology, then it made sense that he would be bound to some kind of rule system, but he still needed someone to give him orders.

“Oh, someone’s looking thinky,” Wilford said. “And that’s no good for anybody. You’ve gotta trust those instincts of yours, Y/N!”

“If I did that, I wouldn’t even be here right now,” you muttered. “Col—Wilford, doesn’t something feel off about this place to you?”

“Mmm…no?” Wilford shrugged and jumped out of his chair, as though sitting still for any length of time was completely beyond him. He paced around a bit before adding over his shoulder, “And is that what your instincts are really saying? To turn tail and run?”

You started to answer, only to hesitate at the last second. Part of you was wishing that you had taken Chase up on his offer to just leave, to let this lie and walk away, but you knew you couldn’t do that. Not when you had found the Colonel again, for the same reason you couldn’t bring yourself to just let Abe leave without trying to reach out to him, even though you had every reason not to trust him. Because you could feel the edge of something bigger here, of answers to questions you had been left alone with for far too long.

“My instinct’s saying someone here knows more than they should, about what happened to us,” you answered, but when you stood up you realized that Wilford wasn’t listening to you anymore.

His gaze was distant, fixed on nothing in particular that you could see.

“Colonel?” you asked, and when he didn’t respond you prodded his arm carefully. “Wilford? Is something wrong?”

He jumped, putting several feet in between the two of you as he brushed at his forehead and said, “Yes? No, just realized that Bim might be on to something with that lunchtime thing. Positively starving, you?”

Before you could answer, he was already moving toward the studio doors at a fast clip that you could barely keep up with when it occurred to you to try and follow him, and he said, “I have a room here, you know? My name on a star and everything, they bring me my meals on the regular there, I bet it’s already waiting.”

“Wilford—” The name still felt strange on your lips as you followed him out into the hallway, where he paused only briefly before lurching off again. “Your…your meals, they aren’t—You still eat a lot of meat, right?”

“Of course! I love me my meat, you won’t see me turning vegetarian anytime soon,” Wilford said, pausing at a door that really did have a star and the name “Wilford Warfstache” on it to give you a wink. “Sorry, I just get a little antsy if it’s been a while. You know how it is.”

“You’re still craving meat,” you said, more of an observation than a question when you could already smell what was waiting for him on the other side of the door. “Has it—has your condition been a problem? I mean, does it seem to have gotten better at all, or…?”

Wilford opened his door and positively beamed at the stack of slabs of meat piled up on a plate, all of which could barely qualify as medium rare. Someone had bothered with trying to season it, at least, but the smell underneath the spices still made your stomach turn.

“I feel like that’s something I would remember…” Wilford mused, the same man who had mistaken you for his dead comrade just minutes ago. You remembered how he told you his hunting kept him well stocked enough to curb the cravings, but you wondered how he had kept that up before ending up here. As your roommates had discovered while trying to feed a wolf, meat was expensive when you weren’t out getting it yourself. That the kitchen staff here were ready to send up this kind of meal on the regular suggested that someone else here knew about Wilford’s condition. He shrugged and asked, “Are you hungry? I’m always willing to share, and the kitchen staff here can send up more—”

“No,” you said quickly, taking a step back from the dressing room. It was one thing to eat that much meat as a wolf, but even then uncooked meat did some bad things to your imagination. “No, I’m…I’m good. Thanks.”

“They make some excellent desserts,” Wilford offered, but his further mentions of cakes and pies while you could still smell the fresh meat just made your nausea worse. “Okay, your loss. Still, don’t be a stranger! I don’t want to wait however long it’s been to see you again, do you hear me?”

“…I’ll try,” you said, and that seemed to be answer enough as he smiled at you before closing the dressing room door behind him. You stood alone in the hallway for a moment, feeling a strange sense of sadness as you looked at the star on the door.

Celine had promised him, once, to help find a cure for the zombie bite that had infected him. That he had been able to stay in control of himself this long was amazing, but you knew from your own condition that just being able to control something didn’t mean that it wasn’t still a problem. It just meant living with the fear of losing that control.

You tried to shake it off, telling yourself those kinds of thoughts right now weren’t exactly helping you or Wilford. Walking back to the elevator, you paused and stared at the up and down arrows, and the directory sign next to the buttons. Chase had said the Jim twins were taking him and Jameson to Studio 5, but you still hesitated to hit the button that would call the elevator. Right now, you found yourself alone and unsupervised in the studio; not a chance you could hope to have very often, or if you rejoined the others.

Inside the elevator, you studied the buttons before selecting the unlit human resources button, just to see where it would take you. Plus, it was near the top where you suspected more of the higher-up offices would be, and someone there might be able to point you in the right direction. Google had said he was going to report to a producer, so maybe it was one of them who hired Wilford. And, if nothing else, being a werewolf did leave you with a talent for eavesdropping from far enough away not to be noticed if you were careful.

Except when the doors slid open on the Human Resources floor, they revealed dark hallways and empty desks, along with a smell of cleaning supplies that hadn’t completely banished the musty scent of undisturbed air and dust bordering on decay. A scent that was all too familiar to you. You punched the close doors button, pressing it over and over again until they finally slid shut and quickly selected the next floor up.

Only to have the doors slide open and reveal a set of offices that looked a lot more like you had expected, alongside a surprised-looking woman standing outside waiting to take the elevator.

“Who are you?” she asked, even as her eyes went down to the visitor’s badge hanging around your neck.

“Uh—”

“Oh, Y/N,” she said, her tone changing quickly. “Did Google send you to the wrong floor? He was supposed to take you to the studio manager’s office himself.”

“Manager?” you repeated. “I think I might have—”

Before you could come up with an excuse, she smiled and said, “Don’t worry, this place can be easy to lose yourself in if you don’t know where you’re going. Let me show you.”

She stepped into the elevator alongside you and pressed yet another button, except this one did have a label: “ID Required.”

“Your badge should work, if Google’s added you to the list,” she said. “Just hold it up in front of the scanner, and it’ll read the code on the bottom.”

Still absolutely baffled as to who this woman was or what was going on, you followed her directions and held your visitor badge up to the black square that until now you had just assumed was for decoration. She patiently turned your hand so that it was facing the correct way, and the elevator gave a different tone before it began moving upward.

“Uh, thanks,” you said, but she just shrugged.

“I’m just glad I caught you. I was about to head to lunch, and I doubt one of the editors would even notice someone was wandering around looking for help. And then I’ve got to go have a talk with Wilford, again…” she muttered the last part, pinching the bridge of her nose underneath her glasses and sighing before she seemed to remember someone else was there. “Is this your first time in the studio?”

“Y-yes, it’s been interesting,” you answered, trying to figure out how to tactfully ask who this studio manager was and why they wanted to see you without giving away that you still weren’t sure why your name had been on the visitor list at all. “I’m guessing you’re one of the producers here?”

“That’s right, name’s Kathryn,” she said, sticking out her hand for you to shake just before the elevator doors slid open once again to reveal a large foyer-like area, well decorated with artwork and an expensive-looking rug, even a set of vaguely humanoid shaped statues on either side of the opposite dark oak doors, alongside plants and wide windows to let in the sunlight and show off the rest of the city further below. “He’ll be waiting for you, just go right in. And if you need anything at all after you’re done here, just let me or one of the crew know.”

“Thank you,” you said, stepping out into the foyer and walking as far as the middle of the room before the elevator doors closed behind you. At which point, you were free to panic on your own.

This was bad.

Either whoever was on the other side of those doors thought you were someone else who just happened to share the same name, or they knew exactly who you were and had been expecting you.

It wasn’t hard to guess which one of those was the worse option, or the more likely one considering Wilford’s presence here as well.

You looked over your shoulder at the elevator doors and the curtain-like drapes to either side that you suspected, based on the layout of the floors below, hid the door to the stairwell. Either one would be an easy escape back down to the others.

You took a deep breath, in the process realizing that this room had recently been cleaned, or wasn’t used often enough for you to be able to pick up the scent of anyone else, familiar or not. A shame, considering the view, and you would have liked to have some kind of idea what you were walking into when you forced yourself to walk toward the set of doors on the other side of the room.

Doors which swung open as you approached, seemingly on their own, to reveal an office on the other side possibly larger and more elegant than the foyer that led into it, if you had been in any state of mind to notice.

Instead, your eyes were drawn toward the desk in the center of the room and the man in a well-tailored suit casually leaning against the front of it who smiled at you and said, in an all too familiar voice:

“Hello, Y/N. Long time, no see.”

A snarl escaped your throat as you lunged forward, nails like claws digging into the polished surface of the desk and leaving deep scratches where the man had been just a moment before. Your other senses caught him, and before he could do so much as breathe, you spun around and slammed him up against the wall behind one of the doors, a growl coming from deep within your chest that sounded a lot more like it came from the wolf.

“You.” It barely came out as a word, as you struggled not to change back right here and now and let the wolf take over everything you’d like to do at the moment.

Only because you wanted to get some answers first, and for that you needed to remain in control and stay human for a little longer, at least.

“Me,” he answered, sounding calm for someone who had a half-transformed werewolf at his throat. Dark eyes studied with you interest, and the heartbeat you could feel underneath your hands was calm, steady, if far too slow. “Although I’m not sure we’re thinking of the same person.”

“I know who you are,” you said, your hand pressing tighter against his neck, forcing his chin up to reveal old scars there and under the collar of his shirt. Scars left by Mark, before he tossed aside this body in favor of a new one that hadn’t suffered as much abuse. “Damien. Or am I talking to Celine?”

He smirked. “That’s a…complicated question these days. The process of taking this body took its toll on Celine which she hasn’t quite recovered from yet, and dear Damien, well…there are some things you can’t walk away from without being changed. I’m sure you can relate.”

You growled, already suspecting that you wouldn’t have nearly enough patience to deal with whoever was piloting this corpse at the moment. Did it really even matter, anymore?

“No, these days most people just call me ‘Dark,’ if they even bother to give me a name. I’m just the studio manager, after all.”

“Dark Entertainment Studios. So they think you named this place after yourself,” you said, but the smirk on his face disappeared when you added, “Guess you and Mark have that in common too, then. Markiplier, Markiplier Manor…”

“Do not compare me to him,” “Dark” said, anything like humor or fake friendliness dropping from his tone. “I am nothing like that man.”

You laughed, a bitter sound that was far too close to becoming tears. “Really? After everything you did, you want to pretend you have some kind of moral high ground over Mark?”

Dark didn’t move, but you felt something grab at your arms, your legs, your chest, a cold darkness that spread from somewhere behind you to wrap you in its tight, choking grip.

“You know better than anyone else what he did to us, Y/N. He betrayed us all, turned us against each other for his own amusement and then left us to die while he walked away in my body, all because he couldn’t handle having his heart broken. He manipulated us, used us, and then—”

“So did you!” You strained forward with another snarl, unsure if the way the office around you was fading was because of whatever was holding you back or because you were cutting off your own blood flow trying so hard to break free from it. “How dare you talk about betrayal and lies?! You left me there, trapped to burn and die over and over again in that mirror for years! Decades! I trusted you, Damien, I believed you, I would have done anything to help you and Celine, and you…”

“Needed to pay a price,” Dark answered coolly, no trace of emotion in his eyes or face despite your words. “Power requires a cost, and returning us all to the land of the living, you back to your body and Celine and Damien to this one, to get these broken bodies of ours moving again, all of that does not come cheaply, my friend.”

He paused at the pained growl that came out of you and walked away, a moment later the grip the darkness had on you disappearing as quickly as it started. You turned to find him standing on the other side of his desk, glancing down at the claw marks you left before looking up at you again.

“Celine and Damien became consumed by their desire for revenge, to do whatever it took to destroy Mark, no matter how long it took, no matter what it cost. Thus was born me, ‘Dark.’ Your…beloved detective has paid a similar price, whether or not he realizes it. And you…you spent your time in the mirror, in your cage of silver, and your price was paid that way.” Dark shrugged easily and said, “It’s one reason I made it a little…easier for your magician to find you. Once the time was right.”

“You—what?”

Marvin had been looking for you, ever since he and the others found out about your disappearance. He had told you that, told you how he had even gone to the house before and found nothing, but only now did it click into place.

“You were hiding me from him. You could have let me go at any moment, and instead you kept anyone else from helping me?”

“Because the price—” Dark paused as you lunged forward and vaulted over the desk only for your clawed hands to slash at empty air, before he continued from the other side of the room, “Had to be paid. I’m not your enemy here, Y/N, whatever you may be thinking right now.”

“You stole my life from me!”

“After you lost it,” Dark answered, again moving out of your reach in the blink of an eye. It was the same way Jackie moved sometimes, when he would show up out of nowhere or disappear just as quickly to go out and do his vigilante work. Whatever Damien and Celine had become, you could smell the entity’s influence still at work here. “After Mark set you up to die, over and over again in his little game. The cards, the silver bullets, in every way he stacked the deck against you. Not that you were the only one; if it were up to him, he would have been the only one to walk out of that house alive.”

“…He was the only one who came back, after you left,” you said, carefully watching Dark for his reaction. “He offered to help me get out of the mirror.”

Dark’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment his form became hazy, as though the darkness was back again and swirling around him with flashes of gray and silver like static. “I’m sure he did. You would make the perfect pet then, being bound to pay back your debt to him. A tempting idea—”

Dark again disappeared and reappeared, but this time you were ready, and it was only the darkness that followed him that held you back as he smirked and continued, “But it does seem like you’re lacking the training someone like him would prefer.”

Mark’s last words came back to you, not that they had ever left you for long since that short conversation.

“I’ll come back around, once you’ve learned how to heel.”

Dark, studying your face closely, saw the flicker in your eyes, the sting of memory, and he took a step closer to you as he said, “I could have been the one to free you from the mirror. I could have brought you back here, nursed you back to health, left you dependent on me for every meal, for every breath of fresh air and whisper of sunlight until you realized that I was the only one you could ever really trust to come back for you. I could have made you mine, no matter how long it took.”

He was closer now, and a hand went to the side of your face, just close enough to leave a trace of warmth without touching you (or being within biting range).

“But what did I do instead? I led your friends to you. I watched from a distance as you gathered your strength, as you readjusted to the world. I used Google to leave a trail for you, away from that pointless detour you were going down to Wilford, to here, so that you could come on your own terms, and meet me face to face,” Dark said. “All because I think, with enough time, you’ll understand. That you can be reasoned with, that you’re not some wild animal that needs to be caged until you’re tamed. Believe me when I say that Mark would not have exchanged the same courtesy, if he had been able to get to you.”

You lunged backward, either breaking the grip the shadow had on you or being let go to keep your distance from Dark, even though you knew this room wasn’t nearly big enough to give you all the distance you wanted right now. “And what, you expect me to be grateful? Like the fact that you had a chance to be even worse and didn’t take it somehow undoes everything else you’ve done?”

You paced back and forth along the side wall of the office, oblivious to the window and view as you passed, to the paintings and the fake plant in the corner because nothing living could survive in this room with him and whatever it was that surrounded him, that toxic air that tore at the back of your mind and, for a moment, made you feel like you were back in the house, back to pacing the floor of a hollow reflection, where your body wanted nothing more than to change to the wolf and the safety and security that form provided.

Your fists clenched, forcing the claws to turn back to fingernails, as you continued, “You trapped me there, left me to suffer, you—I—and for what?! So you could become some TV executive?!”

Level with his desk now, it was an easy swipe of your arm that sent papers flying and his computer monitor crashing to the ground. He did nothing to stop you, and did not even flinch as the coffee mug went sailing by his head, an inch or two off thanks to your still recovering eyesight.

“If you’re done,” Dark started, only to pause as the stapler almost nicked his ear. Your aim was getting better. “Of course, the first thing I did once I left the house was track down Mark, which proved more…difficult, than I imagined it would be. He had been with the entity in that house for so long, had learned so much from it, while I was still a patchwork of broken souls bound together by spite and revenge. He nearly killed me, assuming I can even die anymore.”

His expression changed, the disgust evident in his eyes and the turn of his mouth, or as much as you could see them through the thickening haze around him. “But he let me live. Said every ‘hero’ needed a ‘villain’, and he had such great plans for us and this city.”

He spat out the words, and for a moment you thought you saw not one but two men standing there screaming before the haze around him settled back into one form. “If you thought the little game he had us play back at the party was bad, then you cannot begin to imagine what has followed since then, even if it started off small. Our deaths on the front page of every paper must have ruined any hope he had of slinking his way back into society even with a new face, and we both had to be careful not to attract any unwanted attention.”

“So, the first ‘game’ was how to regain power, how to manipulate from the shadows. He chose his pawns, and I chose a medium that I saw some potential in,” Dark smirked and added, “Mostly in the potential it had to hurt the former actor’s ego, I will admit, but still, it has turned out far better than I could have ever expected. First TV, then all the opportunities a more connected world provided with such a willing and eager audience.”

“Why?” you asked, trying to ignore the prickle under your skin that suggested fur trying to grow out. “What’s the point of all of this?”

“We can tear each other apart all we want, but we’ve both grown stronger over the years and the casualties for everyone around us would be…significant, if that happened. Like destroying all of the chess pieces until there’s not even a board left to play on. So instead, we find other outlets to gain an advantage over the other. Mark would say that it’s a fight for the soul of this city, but then he was always the one for delusions of heroism,” Dark said with a roll of his eyes. “This city isn’t the one you remember, but you’ve probably already realized that. Technology, progress, all of that. And monsters, allowed to live out in the open! Assuming they’re the right kind of monster, of course, as long as they can be tamed and fit within his precious view of what is right and good.”

“Meanwhile, I’ve been more than welcoming to our…less than conventional employees here. Under my protection, they have nothing to fear from the Bronson Institute. Bim Trimmer would be a stuffed curiosity if Mark had his way, but here he can be in front of the camera, in the homes and on the phones of millions, to become comfortable to them. He used to be nothing more than a glorified gate guardian, and now people come to the studio to have selfies taken with him and to get his autograph. And the same goes for every other nonhuman that appears on his shows.”

Dark stepped closer and you immediately took a step back, but he merely bent down to pick up a knickknack that had been knocked to the floor during your sweeping off of the desk. It was a metal recreation of the studio’s logo, a silhouette of the city skyline with D.E. Studios engraved into it with a cursive script, and weighty enough that if you had been thinking clearly you would have tried to hurl it at his face before knocking it to the ground.

“Influence what people see, what they’re exposed to, and you influence what they think. There’s a power in that, and I think that I have used mine well, don’t you?” Dark asked.

You bit back your instinctive response to that, very aware that Dark was trying to do just that right now. Control what he told you, paint a picture that portrayed him as the suffering hero here and influence what you thought. Instead, you asked, “Is that why you brought Wilford here? To protect him? But if so, why wait until now?”

“When has Wilford ever needed my protection? His mind isn’t what it used to be, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, but he still has that same astonishing ability to survive whatever comes his way. No...” Dark frowned down at the studio logo, turning it over in his hands as though searching for something on its surface, before he looked back up at you.

“These games, they’re not just about the ‘fate of the city’ or whatever you want to call it. Mark wants power, but more than that, he wants to make everyone who hurt him suffer as much as he thinks he suffered. And I’ll admit that at least for me, the feeling is mutual. The same night you broke free from the mirror, Wilford was playing what would be his last show at that disco, and a certain hunter was on his way back to the city. Do you really think that was a coincidence? A new game has started, and Mark and I have already chosen our players.”

You stared at him as this information sank in. Wilford was here, under Dark’s protection, which meant that he must have “chosen” him. And there was only one person Mark would choose if that was the case, only one person who had been searching after the Colonel all this time already, who Dark had already said was just as consumed by revenge as the man you once thought you knew. It would be so easy to push him in the right direction and watch him go.

“And how do these games of yours end?” you asked, your mouth so dry that you could barely get the words out.

Dark raised an eyebrow at that, his expression saying that you both already knew the answer to that.

Among the remains of everything that had once been on his desk, there was a low buzz before Google’s voice came from the surprisingly still functioning black glass orb that was cracked down the middle.

“Sir, there is an issue that requires your permission for maximum response.”

Dark sighed and nudged the device with the toe of his shoe, causing the surface of it to change and become a lighter shade of gray. Perhaps it was lighting up with some color, but you couldn’t be sure and it didn’t seem to matter much when it began to flicker and stutter.

“I’m going to go ahead and assume the answer is no, but explain.”

Google’s voice was distorted when he spoke through the device again, glitching and stuttering as he said, “Your-your response is-is-is unclear, Sir. There appears to be an err-err-error in the—”

There was a garble of noise before his voice came through again, “Unauthorized intruders in the-in the-in the—one matching record on fi-i-i-ile, Abe—”

Another garble of static, and when Dark attempted to prod the device again, it responded by neatly splitting in half along the crack as the glow within died completely.

“I paid a lot for that,” Dark remarked, sounding surprisingly calm despite this latest revelation. “A direct line to that Google unit, among other things.”

“You mean you can’t get him back?” you asked. “What’s he going to do to Abe?”

“Well, without directions from an authorized source, he will have to resort to his programming. Or at least, how he chooses to interpret it in this situation.” Dark shrugged and said, “He generally tends to prefer the lethal options. A bit of a problem that his creator couldn’t be bothered to work out in the first run of development, I suspect.”

“Then tell him to stop,” you growled, stepping up to Dark only for him to stare you down.

“And how, exactly, am I to do that? You destroyed the device, and as I don’t know where in the building they are, calling around isn’t likely to be helpful. And of course, you make the mistake of assuming that I care.” Dark didn’t flinch as you grabbed him again, and there was no attempt by his shadow to defend himself as he continued, “I’m not stopping you from doing whatever you want, Y/N, but I’m not about to do anything for that man. You can run and find your precious hunter, but I think in the long run you will wish you had stayed here and let Google do his job. A hunter is a hunter, after all, and you…”

He cast his eyes down before meeting yours again, and you became painfully aware of your current state. You could feel the shape of your teeth that did not belong in this mouth, the fur still itching to show itself, the claws digging into the palms of your hands. All it would take was a single push, and you would change entirely with no guarantee of how long it would take to change back, assuming you even could.

But you couldn’t let this happen, either.

“This game is over,” you snarled into his face, promising yourself that this wasn’t going to end here, that you would make sure Dark and Mark both paid for what they had done.

Until then though, you had more important things to worry about, starting with finding Abe before Google found him, or before he found Wilford.

Dark watched you run out of the office and tear back the curtains hiding the door to the stairs in the foyer before disappearing from sight. He smiled to himself and leaned back against his desk, oblivious to the mess around his feet. His fingers, however, found the deep marks you had left behind on the otherwise smooth, dark surface. So much anger, so much fear, and so much confusion.

It was almost too easy.

((End of Part 23. Thanks for reading! Fun fact, in the first ideas for this story, it was Actor Mark who was running the studio, but I feel like Dark being here fits better. Plus, more of a Markiplier TV feel that way. I also had Dark casually admitting that sometimes there’s the occasional “accident” involving audience members or contestants, before I remembered that he’s supposedly trying to get Y/N on his side. XD

The next part is the one that I wanted to get to before I started posting again, which is why there might be another delay after tomorrow. I’ll talk more about that in the notes section of that part.

Link to Part 24: Three Shots Fired.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox @hidinginmybochard ))

[glowinggator]

Doom Eternal: April O’Neil

Pairing: April O’Neil

Content Warnings: Swearing? References to Doom Eternal? It’s honestly just a lot of fluff, I love April so much <3 

Word Count: 1105

Your feet slap against the pavement as you sprint towards April’s apartment, and you’ve never been so thankful for the impromptu late-night cardio that comes with befriending mutants. Out of all the benefits to receive from making friends with giant mutant turtles, stamina wasn’t one that you were expecting. Then again...you weren’t really expecting the situation to begin with. Nevertheless, you find yourself thankful for the late-night battles in the streets, tearing through the sidewalks of New York with a speed you would have never expected yourself to meet 5 years ago. You breathe steadily as you run, taking in the smell of freshly-ground coffee beans and pumpkin spice as you do so. It’s so distinctly Autumn, and quite frankly, a wonderful step away from the usual scent of New York City. Your feet take you along the bustling streets at a breakneck pace, blending in as just another body in a sea of people. Had you been anywhere else in the world, it may have been a concerning sight. But not here. You leap up her apartment stairs two at a time, weighted backpack slapping against your lower back with a vengeance. Will you be sore tomorrow? Maybe. Do you care? Absolutely not. You take a moment to breathe as you reach her door, composing yourself and regulating your breathing before knocking. Best not to look like an idiot in front of her mom, assuming she answers the door. Once you catch your breath, you raise your fist to the door, knocking gently. 

The door whips open quickly and before you know it, you’re brought into a crushing hug. You laugh, returning the hug quickly. “Good to see you too,” you giggle. 

She pulls away from the embrace, instead choosing to hold your hands to drag you inside. “Happy Halloween month, Sunshine” she chirps, “Did you bring it? Please tell me you brought it, if you forgot it at home we’re marching right back to your place and getting it, deadass.” 

You laugh, taking one hand away from her to slip your backpack off: “Double, triple, quadruple checked to make sure I had it.” You smile even brighter as she pumps a single fist, hissing out a quiet “yes!” She pulls you quickly to her room, flopping on the bed as soon as you both enter. You kick the door shut with your foot before dashing over to her PS4 to slide in your copy of Doom Eternal. You turn to look back at her momentary, only to see her smiling straight back at you. Your heart melts as your girlfriend quietly chants “rip and tear” from her spot on the bed. Her excitement is so contagious, that you can’t help but join in with her. 

 Halloween is truly the best time of year. 

You unhook a controller from the charging stand, tossing it to her before finding your own spot on the bed. You rest your head against her headboard, opening up your arms as a mock-offering. She quickly adjusts her position, finding a spot in your arms as the game loads. Thank god you both installed it last week. You couldn’t take the disappointment, or stand seeing hers. She drops the controller in her lap momentarily, wrapping an arm around your neck to pull you into a quick kiss. You smile, leaning into it happily. Her hands and lips are warm like sunshine in midmorning: a perfect contrast to the chilly, Autumn air outside. Heaven is a place on Earth with her, you muse to yourself. Cheesy, yes, but how else could you describe it? You pull away slowly as the haunting whine of the loading screen claws its way out of the speakers. “Happy?” you ask. 

She hums affirmatively, leaning her head on your chest. “How mad do you think Donnie would be if he knew we were playing Doom without him?” she chuckles. She quickly selects a new campaign slot, setting on the medium-difficulty “Hurt Me Plenty” mode. The TV casts a dark blue glow upon her room as it begins loading all of the necessary assets for the game. Her thumbs nervously caress and tap the buttons of the controller, eager to play. 

“I’m willing to bet, like, 50 cents that he found the cracked copy the day it released and played it without us.” 

“Oh god, yeah,” she laughs, “I completely forgot about that whole DRM situation. Imagine letting that get out, as a multimillion-dollar company with like, one of the most hyped games ever... Couldn’t be me, honestly.” 

King Novic’s voice slithers its way out of the speakers, drawing your attention to the TV. 

"Against all the evil that hell can conjure, all the wickedness that mankind can produce. We’ll send unto them... only you. Rip and Tear until it is done.”

“Holy fucking shit,” she whispers, leaning forward in her excitement. She grips the controller even tighter as the first cutscene loads, never moving her eyes away from the screen. You smile at her excitement, watching her amber eyes dart around the screen. Her eyes trace the outline of the sigil that’s been burned into the Earth, breathing a quiet sigh of awe: “Babe, “ she breathes, “look at the graphics, this is crazy! This probably looks better than like, actual satellite photos of Earth.” 

You chuckle, “You’re adorable, April.” 

She laughs, “Babe, I don’t think that’s the thing to say when I’m playing a game about murdering demons.” The screams of Earth’s last survivors ring out through her speakers, and you silently pray to the universe that her mom isn’t home right now. The introductory riff to Rip and Tear crescendos as The Slayer moves around the ship. April watches with bated breath, occasionally breathing out little sighs of amazement. You can practically see the stars twinkling in her eyes as she watches the cutscene, and her excitement warms your heart. The full force of Rip and Tear hits as The Slayer cocks his shotgun, and April’s eyes shine with unbridled enthusiasm. At this point she leans back into you, gripping the controller tightly. She swings her feet back and forth slightly, too excited to sit still. “Oh my god, this is so fucking badass,” she chimes, “I think that was the best intro scene I’ve ever seen for a game.” 

“What about Skyrim?” You jest. 

“I said best, not most memorable slash memeable,” she returns, waving one hand for emphasis, “Besides, Skyrim didn’t have the awesome metal intro, now did it?” 

 “Alright, fair enough,” you giggle, “I can’t wait to watch you Glory Kill some Revenants.” 

“You better not have played this without me!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(A/N: Look, do I have like 50 requests? Yes. Do I have like 10 different WIPS that I need to finish? Yes. Did I write this as a spur of the moment thing after listening to Doom Crossing: Eternal Horizons too many times and subsequently getting back into the Doom fandom? Yes <3 In this house we play video games and fall head over heels in love with Rise! April.) (For those of you who don't share my undying love for April...I've got a whole bunch of stuff from the turtles to post soon, dw <3 )

[zoinkshaggy]

BASIC QUESTIONS

First name? “Sha– uh, Norville.”

Surname? “Rogers.”

Middle names? “Matthew.”

Nicknames? “Shaggy.”

Date of birth? “November 4th, 1995.”

Age? “Twenty five.”

PHYSICAL / APPEARANCE

Height? “6′0.”

Weight? “150-ish.”

Build? “Uh, long.”

Hair color? “Brown.”

Hair style? “I had dreads for awhile, but now I keep my hair short. Not short. Medium length, I guess.”

Eye color? “Also brown.”

Eye Shape? “Like, normal?”

Glasses or contact lenses? “Neither.”

Distinguishing facial features? “I’d say probably my smile.”

Which facial feature is most prominent? “Smile.”

Which bodily feature is most prominent? “My legs and arms, ‘cause they’re, like, twenty feet long.”

Other distinguishing features? “That’s it.”

Skin? “Oilier than I’d like.”

Hands? “Callused.”

Make up? “I don’t wear any.”

Scars? “Nothing important.”

Birthmarks? “Nah.”

Tattoos? “No! Needles? No thank you!”

Physical handicaps? “None.”

Type of clothes? “I really like sweaters. Sweaters will always be my favorite. They feel safe. It’s a little too hot for that here, though.”

How do you wear your clothes? “How they come.”

What are your feet like? “Kind of big, I guess. Two left feet, that’s what my mom said ‘cause I’m such a klutz. Uh, I should buy some more socks and shoes. Some of my socks have toe holes and my shoes are kind of coming apart.”

Race / Ethnicity? “I don’t have my birth parents around to ask, but I know I’m Spanish.” 

Mannerisms? “I have a habit of, like, playing with my necklace or hair or bracelet — my hands don’t always like being still.”

Are you in good health? “It’s alright, I think.”

Do you have any disabilities? “No.”

PERSONALITY

What words or phrases do you overuse? “Like. I use it, like, a lot.”

Do you have a catchphrase? “Zoinks.”

Are you more optimistic or pessimistic? “I definitely think I’m more optimistic, but I have my moments.”

Are you introverted or extroverted? “Introverted.”

Do you ever put on airs? “I… don’t know what that means.”

What bad habits do you have? “Overeating, not eating healthy. Sleeping in too late. Chewing my nails, only sometimes.”

What makes you laugh out loud? “Usually myself.”

How do you display affection? “My idea of affection is kind of, just, hanging around someone. Hugs can be nice too.”

Mental handicaps? “My anxiety.”

How do you want to be seen by others? “A person they came come to and trust.”

How do you see themselves? “Better than I used to be.”

How are you seen by others? “Probably… nervous.”

Strongest character trait? “My loyalty.”

Weakest character trait? “Getting stuck in my head.”

How competitive are you? “Not at all.”

Do you make snap judgements or take time to consider? “Like, I take too much time to consider.”

How do you react to praise? “I don’t know what to say. I guess I get kind of flustered, you know?”

How do you react to criticism? “Just kind of shrug it off.”

What is your greatest fear? “Ghosts, spiders, heights, bees, guns... losing Scooby.”

What are your biggest secrets? “I don’t really keep secrets.”

What is your philosophy of life? “We’re all just here for a little while, so we should make it easier on each other.”

When was the last time you cried? “It’s been a few months, actually.”

What haunts you? “Zoinks. Hopefully not any ghosts.”

What are your political views? “I don’t pay enough attention to politics to have any views, really. I’ll vote for whoever Velma votes for. She knows what she’s talking about.”

What will you stand up for? “I will always stand up for my friends.”

Who do you quote? “Usually if I’m quoting someone, I don’t even know who I’m quoting.”

Are you indoorsy or outdoorsy? “Indoors. I like walking Scoob and everything, but, like, there’s too many bugs outside.”

What is your sinful little habit? “Putting mustard on ice cream.”

What sense do you most rely on? “Taste. But also hearing.”

How do you treat people better than you? “The same.”

How do you treat people worse than you? “The same.”

What quality do you most value in a friend? “Kindness.”

What do you consider an overrated virtue? “I wanna say courage. Biased opinion.”

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? “I’d stop worrying about everything.”

What is your obsession? “Good food.”

What are your pet peeves? “When people are mean for no reason.”

What are your idiosyncrasies? “Gotta make sure I turn all the lights off before I leave.”

FRIENDS AND FAMILY

Is your family big or small? Who does it consist of? “I guess it’s kind of small. I have my dad, my mom and my sister, Maggie. I haven’t seen my real parents since I was a kid.”

What is your perception of family? “I don’t think family has anything to do with blood, it’s how people treat you.”

Do you have siblings? Older or younger? “Maggie, she’s younger.”

Describe your best friend. “I’ve known her since, well... it feels like forever, but it’s only been, like, a decade and a half. She’s the best person I know. She’s so smart and funny, and she’s beautiful. She has a beautiful soul and... just... everything about her is beautiful. She makes me feel safe, it doesn’t matter what’s going on or how much my mind is racing, if I know she’s there it just feels like everything’s gonna be okay.”

Ideal best friend? “I’ve already got ‘em all.”

Describe your other friends. “They’re great. They’re all unique in their own ways, you know? Freddy’s headstrong and he’s the coolest guy you’ll meet, Daph is such a warm energy and she’s a great conversationalist, Buzz is genuine and he’s loyal. I know everyone thinks so, but I really do have the best friends.”

Describe your acquaintances. “I guess that would be the people I work with. Like, they’re okay.”

Do you have any pets? “Yeah, I have Scoob, but he’s more like my brother or something at this point.”

Who are your natural allies? “Probably the Mystery Inc gang.”

Who are your surprising allies? “I guess it’s surprising I’d fit in with them, huh?”

PAST AND FUTURE

What were you like as a baby? As a child? “I was happy. I can’t remember much from being that young, but I know I was traveling with my parents, I remember I felt like the world was so big and exciting. I felt so loved. I guess I kind of lost that feeling when I was adopted, suddenly the exciting stuff was just, like, scary. I was an anxious wreck as a child, that’s all, honestly.”

Did you grow up rich or poor? “The Rogers family is well off. I wouldn’t say rich, but, like, well off.”

Did you grow up nurtured or neglected? “I don’t wanna say they neglected me. I did feel that way a lot, but some of it was... me, I guess, myself worrying. Yeah.”

What is the most offensive thing you ever said? “I hope nothing.”

What is your greatest achievement? “Is it sad to say everything I’ve done in this last year? For awhile it felt like I was just getting by, but right now, I feel like I’m really living. I got a job, like, it’s not much but it’s a job, I’m doing better in school, I’ve got Velma now, really got her...”

What was your first kiss like? “It was with my favorite person. Kind of later than most people’s, I guess, but worth waiting for.”

What is the worst thing you did to someone you loved? “Come into my mom’s life, probably.”

What are your ambitions? “I’ve been thinking I might wanna go to culinary school.”

What advice would you give your younger self? “I would just tell him that nothing is wrong with him, it’s okay to go your own pace and, like, it’s all gonna be okay, little guy.”

What smells remind you of your childhood? “Corn dogs and pizza. Apple pie. Playground mulch. Hair spray and perfume. Dirt.”

What was your childhood ambition? “I just remember wanting to stop being so scared.”

What is your best childhood memory? “It’s so old it’s blurry, but I remember one of my birthdays, I guess it was my last before I was adopted. We were traveling, my parents were happy, I was happy. It was the last time everything felt okay for awhile.”

What is your worst childhood memory? “There’s a few. Most of them involved panic attacks alone in my bedroom.”

Did you have an imaginary childhood friend? “Not that I remember.”

When was the last time you were crushed with disappointment? “Sometime before I moved to Elias.”

What past act are you most ashamed of? “I’m ashamed that I let myself get separated from my parents, that I couldn’t figure out how to get in touch with them. Maybe shame isn’t the right word. I just wish I knew how my mom and dad were doing, my other mom and dad.”

What past act are you most proud of? “Taking whatever the first step was to stepping out of my shell.”

Has anyone ever saved their life? “I feel like Scooby Doo saved my life.”

Strongest childhood memory? “Another birthday. My first one with the Rogers family. I ended up crying in the bathroom. I was so confused and overwhelmed, I felt like the only person in the world. I just wanted to go home. I don’t think that feeling will ever leave me.”

LOVE

Do you believe in love at first sight? “Yes.”

Are you in a relationship? “I’m with Velma.”

How do you behave in a relationship? “I don’t really know what I’m doing, I’m just trying to make her happy.”

When did you last have sex? “I-- uh... that’s personal.”

What sort of sex do you have? “Like, w-why are you asking that?”

Have you ever been in love? “I am right now.”

Have you ever had your heart broken? “Yeah, but it wasn’t in a relationship.”

CONFLICT

How do you respond to a threat? “Run.”

Are you most likely to fight with your fists or your tongue? “Like, neither.”

What is your kryptonite? “All you can eat buffets.”

If you could only save one thing from your burning house, what would it be? “I assume Scooby and Velma don’t count, so I guess I’d probably grab my favorite shirt or something.”

How do you perceive strangers? “Scary.”

What do you love to hate? “I don’t hate anything... except maybe lima beans... and there is no love there, like, at all.”

What are your phobias? “There’s a lot of ‘em.”

What is your choice of weapon? “I’m more of a hider. If I had to use something, I’d probably grab whatever was blunt and close to me.”

What living person do you most despise? “I don’t despise anyone.”

Have you ever been bullied or teased? “Yeah.”

Where do you go when you’re angry? “I don’t get angry. When I’m sad, I just go home.”

Who are your enemies and why? “The bad guys the gang and I try to stop... because we’re trying to stop them...”

WORK, EDUCATION AND HOBBIES

What is your current job? “Right now I flip burgers.”

What do you think about your current job? “It’s not too bad. It pays the bills for now. Maybe one day I can get a real cooking job.”

What are some of your past jobs? “This is my first job.”

What are your hobbies? “Just chilling, mostly. Smoking, eating.”

Educational background? “I’m in college.”

Intelligence level? “I’m not the smartest guy you’ll meet, but I’m trying.”

Do you have any specialist training? “No.”

Do you have a natural talent for something? “I don’t know if it’s a talent, but I have a lot of knowledge on the supernatural. Weeding out what’s real and what’s not, though, that’s the hard part.”

Do you play a sport? Are you any good? “No, I’ve never been good at sports... I hated gym class.”

What is their socioeconomic status? “I recycle, but I should do more.”

FAVORITES

What is your favorite animal? “Dogs.”

Which animal do you dislike the most? “Anything that bites or stings.”

What place would you most like to visit? “I think Antarctica would be pretty cool. Ha, ba-dum-tss.”

What is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen? “I remember Topanga Canyon being so pretty...”

What is your favorite song? “Two Princes, Spin Doctors.”

Music, art, reading preferred? “Music.”

What is your favorite color? “Green.”

What is their password? “Scoobydoobydoo420 --- like, wait, why are you asking?”

Favorite food? “Like, that’s too hard!”

What is your favorite work of art? “Uh... Mona Lisa?”

Who is your favorite artist? “I don’t know artists that well.”

What is your favorite day of the week? “With my work schedule, it doesn’t really matter.”

POSSESSIONS

What is in your fridge? “What isn’t in my fridge? Let’s see, right now I know there’s barbecue sauce, mayonnaise, mustard, honey mustard, honey, shredded cheddar cheese, American cheese slices, a wheel of Gouda, ketchup, ranch, spicy barbeque, sour cream, strawberry and grape jelly, apple jam, butter, margarine, milk, chocolate milk, Almond milk, strawberry syrup, cherries, a half eaten Philly Cheesesteak, ham, turkey, black forest ham, broccoli, Reeses cups, water bottles, apple juice, leftover brown rice, at least one eggplant, eggs, one slice of buffalo chicken pizza, cabbage, few different Lunchables, green peppers, one red pepper, mild salsa, medium salsa, a microwaveable Calzone, strawberries, raspberries, cream cheese, a bowl of chili and... actually, I think that’s it. Don’t get me started on the freezer.”

What is on your bedside table? “My phone and an old water bottle, probably.”

What is in your car? “I don’t have a car.”

What is in your bin? “Candy wrappers, empty Chinese takeout boxes, probably some junk mail.”

What is in your purse or wallet? “My ID, debit card, a little bit of cash, Scoob’s service dog certificate, a picture of Velma.”

What is in your pockets? “Scooby snacks.”

What is your most treasured possession? “I’m not attached to any specific items, really, just people.”

SPIRITUALITY

Who or what is your guardian angel? “I don’t know, I’d just like to think I have one.”

Do you believe in the afterlife? “I’m not sure. When I think about it, I get a little freaked out.”

What are your religious views? “Uh, I- I don’t know.”

What do you think heaven is? “I think it would be this safe place on the clouds where everyone you love is waiting.”

What do you think hell is? “Bad.”

Are you superstitious? “I guess, yeah.”

What would you like to be reincarnated as? “I guess being a dog would be pretty fun... anything like that. I don’t think I’d wanna be a human again. It’s too much.”

How would you like to die? “Not... painfully...”

What is your spirit animal? “A sloth.”

What is your zodiac sign? “Scorpio.”

VALUES

What do you think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? “Breaking them down. Making them feel like they’re not important, they don’t matter, they have to change who they are to be loved.”

What is your view of ‘freedom’? “Having the chance to choose.”

When did you last lie? “Like, I don’t want to lie, but this guy at work asked me if I liked his new sunglasses, and I didn’t want to be rude and they were pretty expensive, so I said yeah, but... I really didn’t like them.”

What’s your view of lying? “I hate doing it, I don’t want to be lied to.”

When did you last make a promise? “Last week.”

Did you keep or break their last promise? “I keep my promises.”

DAILY LIFE

What are their eating habits? “Whatever I want when I want it.”

Do you have any allergies? “Not that I know of, but I bet I’m allergic to bees, I feel like if I got stung I’d die, so I try to avoid them.”

Describe your home. “It’s just a small apartment. It feels like home when Velma’s there, though.”

Are you a minimalist or a clutter hoarder? “Can I be both? I’m trying to do better about clutter, it’s usually just clothes and trash, I don’t have many belongings.”

What do you do first thing on a weekday morning? “Kiss Velma on the head. Get ready for work. If I’m off, I’ll cuddle a little longer, then we’ll have breakfast.

What do you do on a Sunday afternoon? “Take my shoes off, sit on the couch and watch some TV.”

What do you do on a Friday night? “Whatever Velma wants to do.”

What is your soft drink of choice? “Dr. Pepper.”

What is your alcoholic drink of choice? “I don’t drink much. Mike’s Lemonade is enough for me, and it tastes good.”

MISCELLANEOUS

What or who would you dress up as for Halloween? “I like dressing up as ghosts with Scoob. I think I was the Hamburglar last year. Maybe me, Scooby and and Velma can all do matching costumes this Halloween.”

Are you comfortable with technology? “I guess.”

If you could save one person, who would it be? “Velma.”

If you could call one person for help, who would it be? “Depends on the situation. Freddy, Daph or Velma.”

What is your greatest extravagance? “Food...”

What is your greatest regret? “I don’t think I have any.”

What is your perception of redemption? “Noticing that you need to do better, then striving to do it.”

What would you do if you won the lottery? “I’d pay off any bills my friends have. Put some funding into the Mystery Inc. I guess I’d save the rest.”

What is your favorite fairytale? “Goldilocks and the Three Bears.”

What fairytale do you hate? “Like, Little Red Riding Hood makes me feel... weird...”

Do you believe in happy endings? “Yes.”

What is your idea of perfect happiness? “Being comfortable in your own skin and surrounding yourself with people that are good for you.”

What would you ask a fortune teller? “I’d ask how my birth parents are doing.”

If you could travel through time, where would you go? “I’d go back and spend another day with them.”

What sport do you excel at? “None, no sports.”

What sport do you suck at? “All of them. Especially baseball.”

If you could have a superpower, what would you choose? “I’d like to be able to turn invisible. Not to spy on people. Just to hide when everything got too overwhelming.”