#( &&. memes ) let's see how far you can go until you're cornered

[moodymisty]

Author's Note: Inspired by this post. You can blame all of the unhinged horniness there for this unhinged horniness. Someone there put the idea down as space wolves or Luna wolves and I chose Luna wolves because @bispecsual gave me the brain rot. And since I'm a massive masochist, I write.

Relationships: Like five unnamed Luna Wolves/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Vaguely NSFW, Very hornily charged bullying, Astartes are very curious and grabby, Demeaning speech, Just imagine you're that one girl on the couch in the meme surrounded by massive dudes but those dudes are 8 foot tall genetic abominations, Gangbang implications(?) my warning tags are getting weird as fuck

To the Luna Wolves, serfs are a new idea- a curiosity.

But after their good deeds upon a planet of little known renown and placement in the galaxy, a few of their population offered to serve them.

Before them, most serfs were primarily stationed on Terra, and on Luna Wolves ships instead those roles were given to low ranking tech priests, or penal labor. Even then however the Astartes saw them rarely, until now.

Some of the newly conquered planet offered sons as aspirants, of which they eagerly accepted. The Luna Wolves have been eager to grow their numbers now under Horus’ leadership.

Others, older and ablebodied, offered themselves to serve as serfs.

Many Luna Wolves can't remember the last time they've seen a normal human for more than a few moments, ushering them to safely into a Stormbird or pushing them from a firefight. Or seeing their corpse flung on the far reaches of a battlefield, out of sight and mind.

In their brief periods of reprieve from battle, it's now been a struggle for their captains and lieutenants to keep their men on task, now that serfs scurry around them completing various tasks. Particularly for the youngest marines among them, it's been a constant to stop them from reaching towards the serfs, interrupting their sanctioned duties.

They will get to you once finished with your brothers, is what the current quartermaster on duty or Astartes captain says. Though haste to have their armor cleaned or bolter clips loaded isn't the thing on their mind, but instead an almost dog-like curiosity.

But after their superiors leave, they always end up crowding around you again. These astartes have barely seen baseline humans in decades, let alone a woman.

It's suffocating.

You were nothing on your home planet. Insignificant. You’d hoped joining them would bring you purpose, something to be proud of. And to get off the planet that had you feeling so trapped. And while you got your wish, in a way the thing trapping you had merely changed form.

They have you cornered in the armoring room now; Like Wolves. You went from trapped on that no name planet to trapped by five different astartes. Your palms feel hot and sweaty, but not as hot as your face.

“You’re so small, you’re going to get lost on the ship,” One says.

He grabs for your chin and holds it for a moment, forcing you to look into his grey eyes. they're stoic, but you can see he's enjoying something about this. Though he allows you to shrink away and out of his grip, looking downward at their chest armor. Or anywhere else that isn't their faces.

“Or trampled,” Says another. The one who spoke previous gives him a sour look before passively aggressively replying.

“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

One who hasn't spoken yet has his top armor removed, his lower half unpowered. He was training, using it as dead weight. Training concluded blood now drips down from his nose and lips but is mostly dried, partly covered healing bruises. If he looks like this, you can't help but wonder how his opponent looks.

It’s distracting.

You don’t know if it’s some sort of illness or insanity from being locked in this ship for so long; It makes him look more attractive. You hope to whatever deity or god or whatever exists out in the stars that he doesn't notice you’re staring. That he doesn't notice the way your heart is pounding in your chest and what feels like your cunt as well.

He does. As do the others. You can't kid yourself and think that with their hearing and smell that they haven't noticed that you're boiling alive, and that your body is screaming fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me-

“He won. Out of one hundred men.”

Your gut twists and the marine behind you laughs quietly. It's deep, enough so that you swear you can feel it in your chest. You would squeeze your thighs together for some relief, but you don’t think you can without stumbling over.

“She likes the winners. Looks like you’re out.” He gestures to a fellow marine that gives him another sour look. You briefly wonder what he lost at to deserve such a jab.

“I should return to my duties,”

You meekly say, hoping to remove yourself from the embarrassment and scurry away to another quarter of the ship.

One of them blocks your path and traps you from leaving, picking you up by the armpits and holding you before putting you back down between them all. It's like you weigh nothing to them, and that they can simply jostle and swing you around like a toy.

“I’ll tell your quartermaster you were helping us.” He jerks his head in the direction of a marine clad in only the casual clothing they wear out of their ceramite. Now the focus of your attention he rolls his shoulder, and you can see the muscles of his neck and around his collarbone flex.

You swallow a knot in your throat that felt like it was going to choke you. Your hands clench tight, nails sharp against your palms. You're going to have a heart attack, you swear it. Tears well in your eyes but they don't break your waterline just yet, from sheer will alone. If any of them say another word, call you cute, small, soft, that you smell so sweet, you swear they’ll roll down your cheeks like a waterfall.

“He wants you to put on his armor. The others are always so rough, you’re so gentle with those little hands.”

The marine reaches for you, and in your back step you stumble and accidentally bump into the one who hasn't spoken at all; Just watching and sitting. You stumble over his massive armored boot and end up falling into a sit on his thigh, legs parted over it. His massive armored hand comes to grip your waist, to keep you from falling over. It covers a good portion of your stomach in the process.

You’re so tightly wound just the simple pressure alone is enough to have you clamp a hand your mouth to avoid letting out a moan that would kill you right then and there, if you weren’t already dead. Your knees quiver, toes just barely touching the ground. His massive height makes it impossible to fully stand with his thigh between your legs.

You know they can smell the way you’re leaking and staining your underwear, hear the way your heart is racing like it's going to explode. You’re half afraid you might make his ceramite thigh plate slick.

You can feel their eyes on you. They look at you like you’re food thrown to a pack of starving wolves.

One suddenly steps forward, and pushes his battle brother out of his way with a harsh slam of ceramite on ceramite before undoing the latch his belt.

“I go first.”

[rphelperblog]

Part one of Kaz Brekker Quote Rp Meme

inspired by @multistoty​ @demjin-hands​

“Greed bows to me. It is my servant and my lever.” 

“What doesn't kill me better run.” 

“We can rest when we're rich” 

“Better to get fat on information than starve on good manners.”

“I have a conscience, It just knows when to keeps its mouth shut”

“When everyone knows you're a monster, you needn't waste time doing every monstrous thing.” 

“I want you to stay. I want you to...I want you.” 

“And I'm going to get my girl.” 

“Only disgusting thing about it is that I didn’t think of it first.”

“Do not be afraid. Fear is how they control you. Their’s so much in the world you don’t have to be afraid of, if only you would open your eyes.” 

I have met plenty of men who call themselves kings.” 

“i’m a business men. No more. No less.”

“You were angry. Angry wears off. I needed you righteous.”

“I don’t hold a grudge. I cradle it. I coddle it. I feed it fine cuts of meat and send it to the best schools. I nurture my grudges,”

“The really bad monsters never look like monsters” 

“We will be queens and kings.”

“What do you think my forgiveness looks like?”

“The easiest way to steal a man’s wallet is to tell him you’re going to steal his watch. You take his attention and direct it where you want it to go.”

"Because I've been looking for an excuse to talk to you for two days.” 

“We can endure all kinds of pain. It’s shame that eats men whole.” 

“Is my tie straight?”

“Curse you and your Saints,"

“How many times have you told me you're a monster? So be a monster. Be the thing they all fear when they close their eyes at night.”

“Sometimes, the only way to get justice is to take it for yourself.” 

“It’s not a metaphor.”

“I’m pragmatic. If I were cruel, I’d give him a eulogy instead of a conversation.”

“I don’t want your prayers,”

“I'm not susceptible to flattery, only stacks of cash” 

“You can only sharpen a blade so far, In the end, it comes down to the quality of the metal.” 

“I protect my investments.

"Oh, it's worse than that. If I fail, I don't get paid.” 

“Crows remember human faces. They remember the people who feed them, who are kind to them. And the people who wrong them too. They don’t forget. They tell each other who to look after and who to watch out for.” 

Next time you plan to impress me give me some warning.” 

“Be the thing they all fear when they close their eyes at night.”

“When you can't beat the odds, change the game.”

“If you didn’t like the weather, you didn’t rush into the storm—you waited until it changed. You found a way to keep from getting wet.” 

"You see, every man is a safe, a vault of secrets and longings. Now, there are those who take the brute's way, but I prefer a gentler approach - the right pressure applied at the right moment, in the right place. It's a delicate thing.

“I would have come for you. And if I couldn't walk, I'd crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we'd fight our way out together-knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that's what we do. We never stop fighting.”

“Who’d deny a poor cripple his cane?”

"If it were a trick, I'd promise you safety. I'd offer you happiness.”

“No, little brother. No one is stronger. You've cheated death too many times. Greed may do your bidding, but death serves no man.” 

"I've seen her do it twice. It worked splendidly. Once".

"The toughest mark is an honest one,Thankfully, they're always in short supply.” 

Doesn’t matter how big the gun is if you don’t know where to point it.” 

“When one plan was blown, you made a new one. When they backed you in to a corner, you cut a hole in the roof.” 

“I may not walk straight, but at least I don't run from a fight.” 

When they took everything from you, you found a way to make something from nothing.” 

“You really think they’ve built a cell that can hold me?” 

“What a luxury to turn your back on luxury.” 

"I love puzzles. Trickery is just my native language.” 

If your god is so delicate, maybe you should get a new one. Let’s get out of here.” 

“You draw on me again, I’ll break both your wrists, and you’ll have to hire someone to help you take a piss.” 

"It is very much our concern. And watch your tone.” 

“I'm pragmatic. If I were cruel, I'd give him an eulogy instead of a conversation.” 

[cherrykindness]

wild tweets |

pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: as newlyweds, you and harry read thirsty comments for buzzfeed.

warning: it's thirsty tweets, so below there is adult humor 😳

"It's a bright, sunny morning in Los Angeles, and there's nothing I want more than to be on BuzzFeed and read wild tweets alongside my husband."

"Thirsty tweets, babe." Harry corrected, laughing out loud with the producers behind the cameras.

"Thirsty Tweets." You said quickly, putting your hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. "I'm terrible at that, I'm sorry. Can we start over?"

"Let's take a break for one to two minutes. You've given us a great introduction, Y/N."

You shook your head, smiling shyly before turning to Harry, who was already watching you with that easy smile at the corner of his lips. You liked how his hand remained firmly on yours, making those circular movements with the thumb that always served as a natural medice for your anxiety.

"You look so fucking beautiful."

The pleated dress with flounce sleeves fit you like a glove. You had made peace with the various shades of white since the wedding and knew that Harry liked to see you in that color too.

"Thank you, you're not too bad either, Styles."

You intimately suspected that Harry would always seem far beyond that "not bad" that came out as a euphemism from your mouth. He wore nothing but a pair of bell-bottom pants in a strong shade of blue and a soft vest printed with fluffy little sheep on a striped American collared shirt - in your opinion, no one could look better in farm animal clothing than Harry Styles and Princess Diana with her red "Black Sheep" sweater in the 1980s. In contrast, you knew your husband well enough to know that he was arrogant and knew exactly how hot he looked - you also made your thoughts clear enough when you kept him backstage beyond ten minutes in a rather heated kissing session.

"Are you anxious?" you asked curiously, remaining with downcast eyes fixed on the strokes that remained assiduous on your warm skin. "To read about how the whole internet dreams of fucking my wife?! Of course." Harry joked, leaning over to leave a small one on your cheek. "We agree on that, don't we? Although I'm a little nervous, I'm really interested to know all the crazy things they say about you. Everyone knows you're mine at the end of the day, that's enough."

At the end of the break, you and Harry made a silent agreement that you should be the first to pick up one of the scattered papers in the red pot. There were quite a significant amount of tweets, and as much as you were used to reading rather sordid things about your husband on the Internet, the excitement was there as if you were wading into uncharted territory.

"I would be a good girl all year round if Santa guaranteed me a threesome with Harry and Y/N Styles on Christmas Eve." You laughed, Harry staring at the camera with an expression close to the meme of the surprised Pikachu. "You guys are incredibly nasty, I love it."

"If that was the first one, I'm really worried about the next ones." Harry commented with a little corner smile, picking the next tweet out of the bucket. "I have an entire folder on Pinterest dedicated to Harry Styles' hands, and let me tell you why: those hands are art, and art needs to be recognized."

"What- Guys, you promised you wouldn't post my anonymous tweets here." You quipped with false reproach, laughing at your own stupid joke while everyone else in the studio did the same. "But I can't blame her, honestly." Shaking your shoulders, you opened another piece of paper. "Harry Styles finally confessed that he wrote Watermelon Sugar for Y/N!!!! Are you guys imagining the same thing as me?!!!!!! 🥵🍆💦"

"Exhausted emoji, eggplant emoji, and water emoji?" Harry frowned, staring at the tweet you held up. "I imagine you're in need of a vacation somewhere refreshing and you're craving a fruit that everyone eats like it's really a vegetable."

"That reminded me of that story-" You laughed, hiding your face on the table as Harry continued to offer a poker face to the camera, struggling not to keep up with you laughter. "I'm sorry, lovie, I have to share this with the rest of the world." You stated, wiping a few tears from the corner of your eyes. "Harry always wears those fancy suits to concerts, right?! Right! Turns out he looks really hot in some, like his ass molds perfectly into those tight pants and everything. I was home that night because I wasn't feeling well enough to face the big crowds, but I was still following everything on twitter. It was a concert in London, not so far from where we lived at the time, so it was obvious that he would come home after it was over. I follow some portals that do really fast updates of pictures, videos, etc; everything that happened at Harry's concert was on my timeline in a matter of seconds. When one of these profiles uploaded a picture of him with his back to the camera in a heavily accentuated black and white suit, I quickly sent him the image along with a peach emoji and then wrote "looks good tonight". He didn't reply to me until a few hours later, of course, but I obviously didn't expect a "ready for a Fifth Avenue peach salad for dinner?" and numerous cutlery emojis."

Harry rolled his eyes comically, indulging in laughter as did everyone else who occupied the backstage area.

"I'm against the eroticization of emojis." He said between uncompensated breaths, shaking his head negatively. "Let's go to the next ones, please, I'm already feeling exposed enough here."

"I like your old-fashioned spirit, baby." You assured him with a smile, laying on the sturdy shoulder hidden under the fluffy fabric.

Harry chuckled low, leaving a little kiss on the top of your head before selecting the next paper. The fans would die when that video aired, everyone was sure. You two easily forgot the cameras when you were side by side, and the public display of affection had never been a problem.

"My life mission is to look at someone the way Harry looks at Y/N and be reciprocated the way Y/N looks at Harry, then I could die happy." Harry read. "That was very good and healthy, thank you!" He smiled. "But don't settle for death in that case, please. Just make sure to keep that person around forever."

"Awn, we got so sweet now." You made a pout. "Thank you for sending us something so cute! I really hope you find the right person soon." Sending a kiss to the camera, you moved on to the next tweet. "I wouldn't want to get a golden ticket to visit Willy Wonka's factory, I would like to get a golden ticket to actively participate in Y/N and Harry Styles' Honeymoon.

"That was creative, so I will disregard the fact that you removed my last name from my wife's name." Harry joked.

"I will always be an Y/L/N." You flashed the tongue. "We had a great Honeymoon, but I know you guys already know all about it because there are pictures all over the internet of outings that I don't even remember existed."

"Even though we chose a rather reserved city, many paparazzi still managed to photograph some of our nights there." Harry agreed. "There was one particular day when we opted to have dinner at a restaurant near the beach. Y/N had found it even before the trip, it was pretty laid back and we could spend the evening at karaoke. I don't really remember what happened, but we woke up the next day with a terrible hangover, still wearing the clothes from the dinner and with several headlines saying that I was cheating on my wife in the middle of our Honeymoon with a blue-haired italian girl."

"That wig made me sexy, man." You blinked, laughing as you remembered the situation. "It's a shame the paparazzi only got low quality images, but I swear I looked really amazing that night. Italy, I miss you."

"We're coming to the end and I haven't had to ask production for a glass of water yet, thank you to whoever selected these tweets." Harry raised his thumb to the camera, smiling before turning his gaze back to the small paper he had chosen. "Y/N could literally punch me in the face and I would just bow down and thank them for it." He laughed. "She has heavy hands, so I would rethink that choice."

"It takes strong hands to be a superheroine." You blinked gracefully, referring to your works as a Marvel actress. "I move around a lot during the night, so I'll take this lovely opportunity to say that twitter can dismiss all the malicious theories about Harry always show up with a new bruise all over his body."

"Please stop making indecent assumptions while Y/N is aggressive with me at night only unconsciously, her father has access to social media."

You laughed, clearing your throat before reading the next obscenity aloud.

"I would sell all my possessions to have Y/N sitting on my lap for ten seconds."

"Oh my God." Harry laughed out loud, throwing his head back. "I should have said that in our wedding vows."

You shook your head, laughing low as you set the tweet aside.

"That was pretty funny and cheeky, I approve."

"Okay, looks like we finally got to the last one." Harry announced, waving the paper in the air dramatically before opening it. "Harry could literally crush me with those boots while fuc- I need that glass of water." He said dumbfounded, hiding his face between his hands after throwing the tweet over his shoulder. You laughed out loud next to the organizers, and meanwhile Harry leaned his head on your bust, staring at you still with wide eyes. "Please promise that we will be careful with our future children on the internet."

[ordinaryschmuck]

Can you do one were boscha has vampire like blood thirst and in the middle of the cafeteria amelia offers to let boscha drink from her neck but boscha loses herself in the sweet taste and almost drains her friend. luz and amity hear abt the boscha blood Amelia incident and go to confront her abt it only to be shocked to find her with her hair down fangs dug into her own wrist intoxicated by her thirst , anger turns to worry some concern as they have to physically restrain her before shes too far gone. finale of vampiric triclops ,boscha goes to owl house and begs eda to plz kill her luz and co protest but they see just how broken boscha is, she then falls unconscious from stress.When she goes to beg eda kill her amity will also be there

(This is what you're getting into, by the way. So...)

(TW: Blood. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts and pleas for assisted suicide. Did I mention the blood?)

Bloody Boscha

Boscha tapped a finger onto her table, eyes scanning around to look at the several students in the cafeteria.

She can smell them.

She can almost taste them.

And is thirsty because of it.

"Are you ok?"

Boscha looked out of the corner of her eye. Sitting next to her was Amelia, giving the triclops a concerned stare.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Boscha lied.

"You don't look fine."

"Well, I am."

"Come on," Amelia nudged her, "You can tell me. It's what friends are for."

Boscha wanted to refuse. Wanted to tell Amelia to buzz off and stop bothering her.

But the thirst...

"...I'm thirsty."

"...Meme-thirsty, water-thirsty, or...that thirsty?" Amelia asked.

"That thirsty."

"Oh."

"It's getting stronger," Boscha confessed, "I...I don't know what to do about it."

"...You can, you know, give my neck a little nip."

"What?!" Boscha screamed, looking incredulously at Amelia, who seemed undisturbed despite suggesting something so insane.

"Just a small nip," she shrugged, "Only enough to get you through for a little while."

"I can't let you make me do that."

"I won't let you take much. Once it feels like you've had enough, I'll tell you."

She then leaned close to Boscha, turning her head sideways to show off more of her neck.

"...You sure?"

"Mm-hm. Go for it."

Amelia waited patiently, strumming her fingers onto her knees. For a while, nothing happened. That is until she finally felt four pinpricks into her neck. It hurt, no doubt about it. But similar to how a needle hurts when a healer draws blood. It was quick, made Amelia a little dizzy for a bit, but ultimately nothing too bad.

"Ok, that should be enough," she said after a while.

But the draining didn't end.

"...Boscha," Amelia spoke up, concern in her voice, "You can stop now."

Boscha heard her friend but didn't listen.

She wanted more.

MORE!

"BOSCHA!" Amelia screamed, "STOP! PLEASE, YOU NEED...to...ssssstooooooop..."

Boscha would have kept going. She really would have. But the feeling of two big hands gripping her sides and yanking her off her meal forced Boscha to stop. She growled in protest, of course.

Until she saw what was before her.

Amelia, skin pale and breathing shallow, lying on the cafeteria floor.

"Someone get her to a healer, fast!" Boscha heard someone scream. At that point, the big hands dropped her, and it was then that Boscha realized it was an abomination that stopped the triclops from draining her friend. And it was that same abomination that walked over to Amelia and scooped her up, taking the girl out of the cafeteria and into the healer's office.

"What did you do?"

Boscha looked up, seeing Amity stare at her with such disdain.

It was then that Boscha did the first thing that came to her mind. She got up and ran.

Where? She didn't know.

She just couldn't be there.

Not right then.

***

"Boscha's a vampire?!" Luz yelled her question to Amity as they walked through the halls of Hexide later that day.

"No--Well..." Amity thought for a minute, "She's not technically a vampire. I mean, in a lot of ways, she's similar. The thing is that vampires are their own unique species, and Boscha isn't one of them."

"Then what is she?"

"Just a witch with a literal thirst for blood, I guess. It's a problem she always had. But it's never been that bad."

"Define bad."

"Well, ok, Boscha has sucked a bit of blood before. Most of the time, she managed to be alright until the end of school, when her parents give her blood 'generously' donated from their servants."

"Oh, that's...insanely awful," Luz said simply.

"Yup. There were times when Boscha needed just a quick bite, but she always powered through. She never drank blood from someone at school, let alone nearly draining Amelia."

"Is she going to be ok?"

"The school's healer did all she could. Thankfully, some with far more advanced spells came in on time. Who knows what would have happened then."

"I think it's best we don't think about that," Luz decided. She was ready to leave things at that, but then the human noticed her girlfriend's concerned expression. "Hey, are you ok?"

"...I've never seen Boscha that freaked out before," Amity confessed, "I used to think that she would be cold-hearted enough to commit murder. But seeing her like that, like she's scared about what she did, it...it feels wrong. Almost unsettling."

"More unsettling than what she did to Amelia?"

"I know it doesn't make sense, but--"

Suddenly, Amity stopped in her tracks, her mouth clamping shut.

"...Ami--"

Amity shushed Luz.

"Do you hear that?"

Luz was ready to object until her ears finally picked up on something.

It was faint, far, yet still apparent.

"Is that...heavy breathing?"

"...I have a hunch," was all Amity said as she speed-walked down to the source of the noise. Luz was right there beside her, pulling a glyph out just in case.

The two walked further down the hall, the breathing getting louder yet sporadic, almost like how a person takes a long swig of water only to have a break so they can breathe.

By the time Luz and Amity turned the corner, what they saw made their hearts sink to their stomachs.

It was Boscha.

She was sitting against the wall, her wrist to her mouth, and making this grotesque sucking noise.

"Boscha?"

Boscha didn't respond. She just kept sucking.

"Boscha!"

"Can she even hear us?" Luz asked, ready to run. Whether it was to run forward to stop Boscha or away to get help, she was still deciding.

"I don't know," Amity admitted, "But I do know that she's going to drain herself if we don't do something."

"Got it," was all Luz needed to hear, slamming a plant glyph down onto the floor. Instantly, a vine shot out from it, wrapping around Boscha's arm and yanking her wrist away from her fangs.

Boscha then growled in protest.

"What are you doing?!"

"What are you doing?" Luz countered, "You looked like you were about to drain your whole body!"

"So what if I do?!"

"So wha--Because you'll DIE!"

"Maybe that's for the best!" Boscha cried. "Maybe with me dead, I won't eat my best friends anymore."

Luz and Amity shared a look, both of them shocked by Boscha's confession.

"You...you can't mean that," Luz said.

"Of course I mean it!" Boscha yelled at her, tears beginning to form in the corner of her eyes. "My thirst for blood is getting worse every day! What I did to Amelia is just the beginning, and it's only a matter of time before I start attacking someone else with the same amount of bloodlust! Do you want that to happen?!"

"Of course, we don't want that," Amity told Boscha, "But--"

"But nothing!" Boscha sobbed. Genuinely sobbed. "I'm a monster! And the best way to deal with a monster is to kill it! Now, let me go so I can finish the job!"

Luz and Amity stood stunned.

"We...we can't let you do that."

"Then kill me yourselves! Please! Please...please...just kill me..."

"...What do we do?" Amity asked Luz.

"Wha--why are you asking me?"

"Because you always know how to help people."

"I...I don't know how to fix this. I really don't...Maybe I know someone who could?"

***

"So, what's happening?" Eda asked Luz and Amity, who now held a tied-up Boscha in front of them.

"I want you to kill me," Boscha said.

"No, that's not what's happening," Luz protested, "Boscha is dealing with what is an insatiable thirst for blood. I was hoping you have any idea to help her get through it."

"No one can help me! My parents have been trying for years, and the only solution they came up with was drinking blood! The only real solution is killing me! So kill me!"

"Yeah, I'm not going to do that," Eda made clear, "Don't know why you'd bring her to me, though."

"Because, well," Luz now felt unsure, "I figured since you were cursed--"

"IT'S NOT A CURSE!" Boscha wailed, "IT'S A WAY OF LIFE, AND IT SUCKS! IT REALLY SUCKS! Stop trying to fix the unfixable and kill me! Just KILL ME!"

"Boscha, we're not--"

"KILL ME!" Boscha started thrashing, "KILL ME! KILL ME! K-KILL--KILL ME! KILL! KILL ME! KILL...kill...kill...me..."

Boscha lowered her head, tears streaming down her face with all she was muttering being "kill me."

"Oh, this is rough," Eda admitted, "I don't even know where to begin."

"Neither do we," Luz agreed, "But we've got to do something. We can't just...leave her like this."

"Kid, this isn't something we can fix. I don't think this is anything anyone can fix."

"But she isn't unfixable," Amity protested, "There has to be something we can do."

"I wish there was. Really, I do. But this kid has some severe issues. And we're not the ones to do it."

"Then who can be?"

"I...I don't know."

"...Eda," Luz looked to her mentor, "You're not actually going to--"

"Of course not!" Eda screamed, stopping that train of thought before it left the station. "I've done a lot of things, broken a ton of laws, but I absolutely draw the line at killing kids. I shouldn't have to explain how that's not right."

"Then what can we do?"

"...Get her help? Like, actual mental help. Make sure someone can treat Boscha and get her to a point where she won't be as dangerous anymore."

"Will she be ok, then?"

"To be honest, I don't think there's a point where she'll ever be ok."

Eda looked down at the young girl, now fully passed out from the stress of it all.

"All we can hope for is that she'll be better than this."

***

It was three months since the incident. Boscha sat on her bed, tapping the cloth blanket with her finger. She looked around the small room they had put her in. It had plain white walls with only a poster or two on them, with enough room for a dresser with a crystal ball and her bed that was barely big enough for her body. Boscha's eyes then looked to the locked, metal door with a slot on the bottom of it.

A slot that just now got opened up by someone on the other side, who then slid in a tray that had a bowl of blood on it.

Instantly, Boscha dove for the bowl, slurping it up with an intense speed. As per usual, she set the bowl back onto the tray and slid it all out.

"There's also some mail for you on there," the witch said on the other side. Curious, Boscha then slid the tray back in. Sure enough, there were a few letters on it as well. Letters that she ignored due to the bloodlust.

Taking the mail and sliding the tray back out again, Boscha had then gone back over to her bed. She had three letters.

One was from her parents, no doubt sending the usual 'hope you get better.'

Another was from Luz and Amity, who probably just wanted to make sure if the institute Eda suggested was working. It did. But barely.

And the third made her heart sink to her stomach.

Because the third letter was from Amelia.

Hands shaking, Boscha slowly opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper with Amelia's messy handwriting on it.

'Hey, Bosch,' it read, 'I heard what happened to you. And, to tell you the truth, I'm so sorry things have gone that far for you. I hope you get better, I really do. And, don't worry about me. I'm fine. I really am. What you did was not great, sure. But you couldn't control yourself. I shouldn't hold that against you.

'Best of wishes, Amelia.'

Tears fell onto the letter. Tears that were then followed by a sob as Boscha pressed the letter close to her heart.

For the first time in months, Boscha felt a sense of relief, so much that she had no choice but to cry her eyes out from how overwhelming it felt.

She may not ever get better. But at that moment, she certainly felt better.

[rusty-tetanus-nail]

[Gunshots] Through Your Heart

a The C*W Sniper x Reader fanfic

The story of how You finding your One True Love finally released the Jackles Tapes™.

Author’s Note: If you actually read this fic, I will judge you.

It's the first non-virtual con since the finale and you've paid half a month’s rent to see the monkeys on stage awkwardly talk their way out of giving the gays what they really want. You've long since lost hope of anyone so much as acknowledging Cas' confession, but as long as Jensen keeps his sexy silence intact you're at peace with that. 

The fandom knows what's up anyway, even if the C*W tries to silence everyone involved with the show. You chuckle, remembering that one time when you opened tumblr and everyone was talking in riddles about [gunshots]. It took you at least an hour to figure out where that particular meme came from, but that's just season 16 for you. The confusion is half the fun. Of course the fandom would come up with the most ridiculous explanations as to why the cast and crew aren't allowed to validate Hellers, instead of just facing the reality that they all don't get it and have wrong opinions about things.

You open yet another nondescript brownish looking door, trying to find your way back to the panel hall. Whoever thought colour coding every single signpost and door instead of just using letters and arrows to point the way deserves to be fired. 

You take a deep breath to calm down and look at your phone.

"Fuck!" You curse out loud. You're so late. The main panel has already started and you're still utterly lost with no one nearby to ask for directions.

...not that you would ask for directions. You shudder. Egh people. 

You hear a faint cheering coming from behind the dark wooden door at the end of the deserted corridor. Bingo!

You run across the hallway, so ready to see the convention madness for yourself and open the door with a grin.

Instantly, the cheering grows louder and then subsides, leaving room for someone to speak. You look around confused. You can hear the panel just fine, but you’re not in the main hall.

Cautiously, you take a step forward. No that's not quite right. You are in the right room, but in the wrong place. Instead of being on the ground floor looking up at the actors on the stage, you’re on a balcony of sorts, hidden away near the ceiling. From here you can see everything. The whole crowd of fans, the stage. It's not the first row seat that you paid the other half of this month’s rent for, but it’s a nice view nevertheless and feels far less claustrophobic than downstairs with all the people around you doing their best to give you a headache. Maybe you'll just stay here and enjoy the rest of the show. No point in missing more of it than you already have.

You lean against the railing and watch as a staff member gives the microphone to a nervous looking fan. You cross your fingers, silently cheering them on, hoping they'll get through this in one piece.

The fan starts to talk and from the corner of your eyes you see something move. Startled, you stumble forward over the railing and for a moment you're certain that this is how you die.

A hand grips you tight by your several layers of flannel and pulls you back onto the floor of the balcony saving you from certain death.

You look up in a daze and see the silhouette of your saviour illuminated by the ceiling lights standing over you holding a sniper rifle. Somewhere in the distance you hear the fan continue their question ignorant of your almost death.

Your saviour moves with practiced ease back to the railing and aims their weapon at the people below. 

Shit. This can’t be happening. You try to get up and stop them from whatever they're about to do, but when you reach the figure and grab their wrist it's already too late.

"So about the Cartwright Twi-" [gunshots]

The fan falls to their knees and is carried off as someone on stage lets out an uncomfortable laugh and makes a joke about fainting. You watch the proceedings in shock, still gripping the sniper's wrist.

"What did you do?" You bite out, more harshly than you intended. In the back of your mind you know you should probably run away instead of arguing with the assassin, but there’s just something about them that makes you feel safe and unthreatened.

"My job." A gruff voice replies and as they turn you finally catch a first proper glimpse at the sniper's face. You let go of them almost immediately.

Oh no. They're hot.

The sniper pulls their wrist close to their chest and strokes the parts of their skin that your hand previously occupied. And odd knot forms in your stomach. You take a step closer and they shift away unused to the presence of another person.

You try to reach out again, but think better of it. You don’t want to scare the beautiful person in front of you. Your hand falls down limply to your side and the sniper follows your movements with their eyes still refusing to look directly at you.

You open your mouth to ask who they are, but you get interrupted when Jensen starts speaking. Instantaneously the sniper is all business again, aims their rifle and-

“Actually I think Dean is b-” [gunshots]

Jensen bends over and starts coughing violently, his sentence hanging forever unsaid in the room.

The sniper lowers their gun and looks emotionlessly at the scene they just caused.

“You’re-” You start, but the sniper holds up their hand to stop you.

“Don’t. Just go and pretend you never saw anything or I’ll shoot you as well.”

You shake your head.

“No. I don’t think you will.” Taking a chance you close the distance between the both of you and take the sniper’s free hand, intertwining your fingers with theirs. Their breath hitches as you touch them and they lower their eyes, but don’t move away. You take it as a good sign.

“You’re the C*W Sniper, aren’t you?” You whisper astonished. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

A fan with a faintly Spanish sounding accent is given the microphone. With their free hand the sniper reaches down and pulls out a gun from their thigh holster and- [gunshots]

What was once an almost unnoticeable accent is now unrecognizable word salad. Everyone laughs and writes the incident off as the fan simply being nervous. You frown.

“This isn’t right.”

“They’ll be able to speak again in a couple of minutes.”

You tighten your fingers around the snipers hand and try to unsuccessfully catch their eyes.

“Still doesn’t make it right. You didn’t even know if they’d mention anything about-”

The sniper aims their gun at you.

“I have my orders.”

Your eyes finally meet for the first time and the previous argument is forgotten as the world around you bursts into vibrant colours. 

“What the f-”

This isn’t possible. You’ve always been severely colour blind. People don’t just randomly heal from that. You shouldn’t be seeing any of this.

The sniper's cold eyes grow warm and mirror your own in wonderment. They look around before settling their eyes back on you and a soft “oh” escapes their lips.

“You’re my soulmate.” Their rough voice takes on a heart wrenching tone and you shake your head disbelievingly.

“No. Soulmates aren’t real. They were made up for fanfics.”

“That’s what the CW wants you to think.” The sniper says with a sad smile and breaks eye contact again. “The CW’s reach and power is far greater than anything you could possibly imagine.”

You cup the sniper’s face with your free hand and softly stroke their cheek with your thumb, almost entranced at the new connection you made with the not quite stranger in front of you. The sniper closes their eyes and leans into your touch. Your heart starts pounding and you wish for the moment to never end.

“You should leave.”

“Not without you.” You reply not missing a beat, trying not to get distracted by the sniper’s full lips and delicate features contrasting their hard battleworn exterior.

“I’m not safe to be around. I’ve hurt people.” The sniper turns around and lets go of your hand, but you hold on tight, too scared they’ll disappear as suddenly as they entered your life. Clutching their hand tightly, you pull them close and swirl them around forcing them to face you.

“I don’t care.” You say resolutely. “Whatever hold the C*W has on you, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

The sniper shakes their head and looks frantically over to the stage where Jensen is about to give his phone to a staff member.

“I- I can’t. I have to- I have nothing else but this.” They aim their gun at the stage, but you gently push their raised arm down. Your sniper doesn’t resist, but their hands are trembling. They’re scared, you realise. They’re scared and they need you.

“You have me. Please, I promise. Everything will be alright. Let me take care of you.”

The gun falls to the ground and the sniper lets themself be enveloped into your embrace. You hold them tightly as they fall apart in your arms and wait patiently until they stop shaking all the while whispering sweet reassurances into their ear.

“It won’t be easy.” They mumble against your shoulder and straighten up to look into your eyes. “The C*W will want to eliminate us. I’m not their only assassin.”

“Let them come. We’ll make them regret ever messing with us.” You say with a wicked grin and your sniper grins back with tears in their eyes.

You throw your arms over your snipers shoulders and lean your forehead against theirs.

“I’d really like to kiss you now.”

“Yes please.” The sniper says, almost breathlessly and you capture your soulmate’s lips for the first time. 

Fireworks explode in your soul and the crowd cheers as the Jackles Tapes are finally released and played on the big screen behind Jensen and Misha, who take the opportunity to ask every minor to leave the room as they’re about to reenact the secret good ending of Supernatural.

[sheblah]

OK I'm apparently not done talking about this. Here I'm going to expand on my meta that DT's motivation = survival and all else is just a byproduct.

Lots of people have commented that Double Trouble does what they do purely for drama, or chaos, or because they just love destroying lives. It's as valid an interpretation as any, I guess, but I don't agree with it. They are certainly manipulative, but I don't think this trait is incidental to their personality; it's very much intentional on DT's part. If put together with other clues, I think it reveals something very different about them.

What I propose is that ultimately, DT's goal in life isn't to cause drama or have fun at other people's expense (bear with me). Their goal is to survive - or more accurately, to maximize survival chances - and they have a very meticulous way of going about it.

First I want to take a broad look at the elements that shape DT's personality and motives. This might involve some speculation, since we don't know anything about their early life and very little about their internal thoughts, but I'll stick to onscreen evidence as much as I can. What we do know is that they first appear in the Crimson Waste. I choose to assume they live there and have done so for an indeterminate time before their first appearance. And in the Crimson Waste, the strong make the rules. Not everyone can be the "strongest in the Crimson Waste." Most people just have to be strong enough to survive on their own, or else join up with the strongest like Huntara's goons or Tung Lashor's lizard gang. Since DT isn't ostensibly allied to any group in the CW, they're probably the former. And their strength isn't muscle; it lies in deception, observation, and manipulation. As a shapeshifter, they're naturally predisposed to that sort of skillset. They probably started their career of deception by shifting to blend in and escape danger, and then expanded the applications of that ability into eavesdropping, information gathering, and eventually espionage. Their best strength is knowing more than everybody else, and knowing how to use that information.

Let's go back to S4E2 for a moment. This is the first time we see DT:

They're looking down at Adora, Bow, Huntara, and Perfuma. In retrospect I thought this was odd, since they then proceed to approach Catra, not the heroes. They don't interact with the heroes until Catra has them do their "audition." Why show DT watching them? I think, in this moment, DT is choosing which side to join. For at least a moment, they consider offering their services to the Rebellion instead. We also know this because they mention the possibility to Catra.

Now my opinion is biased towards a morally gray interpretation of the character, but to me this is a pretty big hole in the popular rhetoric that DT is evil for the lulz. Why even think about joining the "good guys" if all you want is chaos and destruction? The Rebellion is about stopping all that noise. And why consider them first? We don't see DT watching Catra and sizing her up.

But before we get to that, we have to ask: why get involved in the war at all? What would drive them to leave the Crimson Waste and seek employment in the wider wartorn world of Etheria? I posit that it's because the Waste is no longer survivable.

In that episode, we see that the Valley of the Lost is crawling with Horde soldiers.

They're terrorizing the denizens of the desert. Now these are mostly hardened criminals who aren't easily terrorized, but the Horde has armor and weapons and numbers on their side. As Huntara puts it, "It wasn't always like this. It used to be a great place, where an honest criminal could carve out a life." When she says this, it's news to her; from what we can tell, she's been living in Bright Moon for awhile. But everyone else there has just been living with this new state of affairs however long the Horde has been in their valley - and it's probably been awhile since they have a whole warehouse set up. It's reasonable to assume DT has been suffering from the Horde's presence as much as anyone else who lives there. How can you make a living gathering intel when there are soldiers around every corner interrogating everyone?

It's simple, actually: if you can't beat them, join them. Or maybe join their enemies.

I think they don't have great choices at this point - either keep working and hope that business picks up while ALSO avoiding the aggressive soldiers, or get involved in a war that you and your home have avoided thus far. The choice that gives them the best chance to keep making money - and, you know, living - is to get involved with the war one way or another.

So then, why pick the Horde way? Also simple.

From where DT is standing, the Horde is winning. They have sophisticated technology, abundant resources, and enough soldiers that they can afford to station a few dozen in a remote desert town. Who does the Rebellion send to steal the ship back? Three kids and a former gang leader. And oh sure, one of them is She-Ra, but what's one superpowered princess against an army? Any way you look at it, the Horde's forces are more impressive.

So they offer their services to the Horde first, with the rebels as a backup in case the Horde says no.

So, let's summarize up to this point. Pretend you're DT. You make your living as a spy, but suddenly a powerful presence takes your town by storm and completely disrupts everyone's daily lives. Finding clients becomes difficult, and actually doing the work is next to impossible when the streets are clogged with armed aggressors. Your income starts drying up. You can't avoid the war anymore - the war has come to you. So you decide to join it. You spot a handful of outsiders trying to avoid attention and figure this must be the Rebellion's forces. It's four people versus dozens of armored soldiers with enormous resources. You pick the stronger side. But now you've gone from working with petty thugs to working with literal warlords, and that's a hell of a dangerous position to be in. If you piss off your employer, you just might die. So. How do you cover your ass?

By getting the dirt.

Because that's your strength. That's how you survive. By manipulating the people who could hurt you. By gathering information that could hurt them so bad they couldn't even retaliate. And, hey, you don't necessarily gather this information with the intent to use it - but if the crap hits the fan and you do something that'll get you on a tyrannical world leader's naughty list, well, you need something to defend yourself with. For you, information is the best weapon.

That explains why they're so determined to get in Catra's skin. They want to know what makes her tick, her strengths, her weaknesses, her obsessions. It's not just for the love of acting. These are all bullets that they can use to bring her down if need be. And when they decide to switch to the other side? Need be.

Giving Catra that devastating speech has multiple effects. I think a part of them really does care about Catra and wants to be honest with her. But my theory is that they're mainly trying to get one important message across:

Don't try to retaliate for this betrayal. I know enough to destroy you without throwing a single punch.

As an ending note, I want to examine that line above. "The best way to survive is always choose the winning side." As amusing as the "would sell you to satan for one corn chip" memes are, that's not actually the sort of attitude they have about betraying Catra. They're not talking about getting a reward here. No mention of superior pay is made. They're not saying they destroyed everything she's worked for on a lark (although they may have had a lark in the process). They're talking about literal survival. The basic gift of continuing to stay alive. That's what they betrayed Catra for. They do the math in that cell in Bright Moon, figure they're on the losing side of the war, and decide what they're getting from the Horde isn't worth getting killed over. Anything else they get out of it is incidental.

Mind you, none of this is meant to imply that they don't enjoy messing with people's heads. There's abundant evidence that they do. Rather, my point is that they probably learned how to manipulate people not as a hobby, but as a vital survival skill... and probably long before they learned to enjoy it.

[burntchickennuggetskrrt]

Dream in a Dream (One shot)

pairing : jeno x reader

reason: because it's jeno's birthday 🥺💚

warnings: please forgive me for any errors that you might meet along the way. i did not proofread this and just wrote this because it's jeno's birthday ㅠㅠ don't get mad at me for my lack of vocabulary or my grammar mistakes ㅠㅠ

✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩

"Are you going to the coffeeshop again?" Your bestfriend asked whilst you were checking your reflection in her vanity mirror.

"Yeri, stop saying "again", it's not like i always go there." You reapplied your lipstick to finish your light make-up look.

"Yn, you basically go there every fucking day just to check out the barista for the last 2 months, who are you even kidding?" Yeri rolled his eyes at the embarrassment that is her bestfriend, yes, you.

"Geez, chill down, Susan. It's not like i have nothing else to do. I mean, it's not my fault that my body needs caffeine every single day." Of course that's just your shitty reasoning which Yeri catches without blinking.

"Bitch, don't even give me that same lame excuse. Just say you're a simp and go." Yeri is tired of you simping around this barista for the last two months without doing anything about it.

"I AM NOT SIMPING OVER HIM! I'm just admiring art." You sighed dreamily as you remember the handsome barista who takes your order and makes them with those beautiful hands.

"Yn, you're not admiring art, you're a creep! I told you to say hi and introduce yourself and not just order coffee and sit on the farthest corner oogling at the poor guy." You rolled your eyes at the stupid suggestion of your bestfriend. How could she even think of you introducing yourself to that beautiful boy? You can't even function well when he give you that beautiful smile that makes his eyes formed the shape of a crescent moon.

"Just do it. It's been two months, Yn. Two months of me listening to your simp words of how beautiful his smile is, or how his eyes would go minute when he smiles, or how he looks like that meme of a smiling dog, or how his arms looks so wonderful in his uniform as he "skillfully" make your order with those "beautiful hands"--", your bestfriend's flow of words was put on a halt as you covered her mouth as she protested.

"STOP. I know, okay? I'm pathetic. I can't help it. He's beautiful, like really beautiful. I'm pretty sure Ten only hired him because he will make his cafe famous. I mean, he's not wrong. Ever since he started working in there, Dream in a Dream got more customers, teenage customers." That's basically the reason why you were not able to find confidence in properly introducing yourself, not when there are tons of pretty girls gawking over him on a daily basis.

"Yn, you are fucking beautiful, plus your personality is fucking wonderful. If he doesn't like you by now after the countless times you sashayed your ass in there, he's dumb and he's not worth your attention." Yeri put and emphasis on the words she has spoken just so it can be etched in your mind.

"Damn, hype woman, chill. But thanks Yeri, I mean I have developed this huge ass crush and I'm scared that when I make a move the illusion will break and he's nothing like I imagined him to be." Of course that's just part of your worries, because the main one is still related to how you're not confident enough.

"Are you boo boo the fool, Yn? Of course you wouldn't know about that if you won't talk to him. You'll just end up putting more and more illusion in your head if you continue on lurking around instead of speaking to him. The worst case scenario is he will decline you because he has a girlfriend, though it will suck more if he declines your invite and yet he's single, like bitch, he just plainly doesn't like you."

"See this is why I'm not sure if you're my bestfriend! You hype me and then you bring me down!" You sat beside your bestfriend on her bed as the other just continued lying down.

"I'm just giving your the possible scenarios that would happen if you ask him out or just talk to him after his shift. Or maybe just ask him if he's single, so you can stop simping and wasting your time."

"He's worth my time." You heard Yeri fake-gagged at your response.

"Simp culture." You smacked her ass playfully before you stood up and walked towards the door to signal your departure. But before you left you looked back at your bestfriend and she's looking at you warily.

"Fine, maybe I'll say something more to him later, aside from my order."

"You better be, or I'm revoking your bestfriend benefits."

--

The walk towards Dream in a Dream was stressful since you kept on weighing Yeri's advice. Can you really dare to speak to the beautiful barista?

Even before arriving to the counter, you already saw him looking like some shining, shimmering, splendid prince who got sent by the King to work in a cafe for his humility training or something.

And like some coming age movie, he slowly looked up from the cash register and your eyes locked and he smiled at you, fucking smiled at you. Can i have that smile forever? You can only dream.

"Hi Yn, how are you?"

"Hi Jeno, I'm fine, I guess. Thanks for asking. How are you?" You felt your stomach did a some tumbling stunt as you heard your name rolled down his tongue perfectly.

"Better now that my favorite customer is here." Damn, those beautiful eye blinding smile again. You've seen it countless of times and you still can't get over it. Why are you like this?

"Liar." You smiled shyly at the boy you are obviously fucking whipped for.

"Can you two stop flirting in front of my salad?" The little moment was now gone, fucking Ten and his single ass being all bitter. He's basically just seating on his owner's table not so far away from the counter, yet he still noticed.

"Damn Boss, stop interrupting. You're making me miss my shot." Jeno just smiled at you apologetically but you on the other side is obviously on some trance. What the hell?? What does he mean by missing his shot? Jeno, shoot your shot! I'll be yours way before you could ask me out! You're obviously being delusional again, but who cares? A girl can dream.

"I don't care if you flirt all you want. Just not in front of my salad, and not when you're working. We have customers, Jeno." Ten's obviously just playing around, not that you and Jeno will notice. The owner obviously noticed your admiration for his 2 month old barista, you've been a constant customer since then, never missing a day and always visits on Jeno's shift.

"Got it boss. Sorry about that, Yn. My boss and his boyfriend had some fight, so he's being too sensitive." Jeno said to you in a fake whisper. He's too close, you thought.

"That's fine, Jeno. You don't have to excuse his annoying ass. Anyways, I'll take the same order." You smiled and gave your card to the boy to pay. But Jeno waved his hand instead.

"Don't pay. This is my treat." He again smiled sheepishly, he should really stop doing that. You've already have this huge crush on him, no need to get it bigger.

"Ten will kill you. Let me pay please."

"What he doesn't know won't kill him." He winked at you like his eyes is not already small from his smile.

"Are you sure? Because it's really fine, Jeno. You don't owe me anything."

"Believe me, I do. So just say yes, please?" Damn, Jeno, if this was him asking your hand in marriage you would say yes without stuttering. But you thought, a coffee would be a good start. And what does he mean by he believes he owes you something?

"Fine, Jeno. But just this time." You brought back your card back to your sling bag and Jeno mayhaps that said something like "yippee" or "yeheey", you really don't know, he was too cute for you to stay sane.

--

You were mindlessly sipping your drink whilst looking at the people outside outside Dream when Jeno started walking towards your seat, you did not notice him though, at least not until he spoke.

"Yn?" Your daydreaming was put to an end when you heard Jeno's voice calling your name.

"Oh, hey, Jeno." You smiled ever so shyly, just like you always do when he's the one you're talking.

"Oh, hey... so I was wondering... my shift will be over in like 30 mins. Do you mind, uh, going out with me? Like just walk around the park and maybe have some dinner?" The boy scratched his ear just like he does when he's feeling shy and/or awkward.

You look at him like he just said some foreign language you haven't had the honour to learn. What did he just say? Go out? Park? Dinner?

"Earth to Yn?" Jeno spoke softly like he's talking to something small and fragile, which obviously at this point, are the words best to describe you.

"What did you just say?" You replied in almost like a whisper; but Jeno is looking at you closely so he was still able to hear what you said and that's when Ten walked by.

"He's asking you out on a date, idiot. Isn't that what you wanted?" Ten laughed as he made his way back to his table.

You swore to the heavens, that you will be snitching Ten to his father about all his shenanigans. He's like the worst cousin in the world, i mean not really, but he sort of is, right now.

"I swear to God, he's like the worst cousin." You sighed, exasperated.

"He loves you though, he always talk good things about you behind your back."

"Oh, does he now?" You raised your eyebrow for emphasis and Jeno smiled shyly in return.

"Yes, he does. I may have indulge him because I like hearing things about you."

"Oh." That was the lamest reply you have given ever since your birth. STOP EMBARRASSING YOURSELF, YN!

"Before my confidence ran out, what do you think about my invitation?"

"Oh... Yeah, s-sure. As long as you don't bite." Maybe at least now now.

"I won't. Unless you asked me too." He winked, fucking cassanova knows what he's doing. You can feel the heat creeping up your cheeks.

"I'll see you in 30 mins then?"

"Yeah, sure, Jen." Jen? Who gave you permission to give him nicknames? Get a grip of yourself, yn!

--

30 minutes later, Jeno came back. Now with his casual clothes, still looking some dashing model from a magazine.

"Ready to go?"

"You bet."

Whilst you were both about to go out the door, Ten shouted something that made you winced.

"Jeno, you can take a day off tomorrow. Sorry for making you work on your birthday, bud." Ten smiled apologetically but Jeno just smiled like the good boy that he is.

"No worries, boss. Thanks for the day off! We'll get going now. Let's go, Yn."

"Oh, yeah. Just give me a minute. I'll catch up to you. I remember I have to say something to Ten, a message from my Mom." Jeno eyed you curiously but he let it passed and told you he'll just wait outside.

You walked back to the counter and saw your cousin with sitting casually with his feet up on his table.

"Hey, Ten. Can you give me that cupcake? And maybe some candle."

Ten gave out a laugh before standing up amd getting what you ordered.

"You're fucking whipped, Cous. Be fast though, you're not the only customer eyeing him."

"Shut up. I'm trying, okay? Yeri is already on my back. Stop yourself from hopping in."

"Well, you always need a very hard push. Don't pay me for now." Ten put the cupcake in a small box with Dream in a Dream logo. You put the box carefully in your sling bag and borrowed Ten's lighter with a promise of returning it tomorrow.

When you walked out of Dream in a Dream, you saw Jeno casually leaning on his motorcycle. He has a motorcycle? Damn, he looks hotter. What the hell, yn?

"Hey, right here." Jeno waved his hand as if you'll never catch him in a sea of people. But you always do, he has that presence, at least that's the case in your eyes.

"Are we riding that?" Jeno laughed at your expression.

"Yes we will be riding this. Don't worry yn, I'm not a reckless driver." He winked. STOP WINKING, JENO.

"I still have a lot of dreams, so that's good to hear. Let's go?" Jeno nodded and gave you a helmet before putting his. Does this mean I can hug him? You felt your cheeks grow hot again with that thought.

You indeed end up hugging him during the ride to the park; since he also advised for you to hold tight. It was not a hard instruction, and definitely not against your own judgment.

--

Jeno found an empty bench near the children's playground and you both sat in there silent for a few minutes before you heard him clear his throat.

"Thank you for coming with me, Yn. It means a lot to me. I'm almost technically a stranger, but you still came with me." You looked at him and maybe it's the light playing tricks on his handsome face but you could've sworn his cheeks is a little red.

"No worries, Jeno. You're not really that of a stranger. Ten knows you. I've known you for like 2 months. So that's hardly a stranger." You gave him a genuine smile, happy that Jeno invited you, or it would've been you embarrassing yourself to invite him.

"2 months, 3 days, 15 hrs, and 2 minutes."

"Huh?"

"That's the exact time I've gotten to know you." Jeno looked down, embarrassed at how he remembers clearly the time you first entered Dream in a Dream, like you're some fantasy brought to his reality.

"Oh... wow, that's quite precise." Your eyes where everywhere but on him.

"Yeah, you could say that. I almost messed up your order and would've been fired if Renjun wasn't there to help me out." Jeno smiled remembering his friend who now take an early shift.

You find your courage to be honest now that Jeno is being honest. What could go wrong, right?

"Don't worry, Jen. I messed up too. I ended up ordering Matcha Latte when I hate that drink with all my heart."

"You do? So that's why you never ordered that drink again. I remember extending my shift that day to practice how to make it perfectly though."

"You did? You're so silly." You laughed at Jeno not because he's being silly, but because he is looking like some cute puppy doing something silly, you still find yourself liking him even more.

"Yeah, people do crazy things when they're in love." It slipped Jeno's mouth before he could stop it. It felt like it was the most natural thing to say. But after looking at your shocked expression he almost feel his heart sinking. But then you smiled and hope trampled the fear as fast as it could even crawl further.

"I guess they do. So you love me, then?"

Jeno hummed before answering.

"I guess you could say that."

You raised your eyebrow.

"So you're not sure?"

Jeno sighed before looking at you straight in the eyes, with the most serious look you have seen on him.

"I love you, Yn. I'm not just sure if it's the first thing I should say after mustering up to talk to you the first time."

"Jeno, can you close your eyes?"

"What?"

"Can you close your eyes? Please?"

Jeno felt weird by the sudden request. The boy thought what if you'd run away after his sudden confession? He thought he can't blame you if you do that, he was being stupid for confessing on day 1.

"I won't run away." You said as if being able to read Jeno's thoughts. He sighed but proceeded on closing his eyes.

You immediately took out the box you've carefully arranged in your bag and lit the candle using your stupid (yet somehow still helpful) cousin's lighter.

"Jeno, you can open your eyes now." You felt the excitement in your voice, it was weird being able to hear it. But you didn't care, who cares if you're going too fast? You can get to know about each other after today.

Jeno saw your smile first before his eyes dropped on the red velvet cupcake you are holding with a candle on top of it. He find himself smiling, not just because of the effort you've exerted, but because of how beautiful you look.

"Happy birthday, Jeno. Before you make a wish, I have a fun fact for you... Did you know that I have been going to Dream in a Dream every single day for the past 2 months, 3 days, 15 hrs, and 20 mins now because I fell in love with the newly hired barista?"

Jeno laughed hard, like that kind of laugh a boy gives out which sound anything but soft. He has head thrown backwards due to laughing and you just stared at him, dumbfounded yet still in love.

"So to simplify that fun fact, you love me?"

"You could say that. Now make a wish before the wind blows your candle out."

Jeno moved closer and closed his eyes.

He doesn't have a wish anymore, he's got one already answered. He's got you. But he still finds himself wishing, because humans are after all selfish creatures.

Please, please, make this work. I love her, please make her love me more in the future.

Then Jeno opened his eyes and blow his candle. You smiled at each other like some giddy teenagers even if Jeno just turned 20, which means he's a young adult now.

"Do you mind saying it again?"

"Saying what, Jen?"

"I love that nickname by the way. Tell me how you feel about this barista."

"Demanding but fine, since it's your birthday. I love you, Lee Jeno."

"Damn, that feels good to hear. I might be asking you to say those 8 letters in the next coming minutes. But for now, let me tell you that I love you too, Yn."

He gave you a kiss on the forehead and a tight hug. It was perfect.

Two months ago a dream was born in Dream in a Dream. Two month later on the day Jeno was born, it became a reality. Now you'll find yourself celebrating two special events every April 23rd; Jeno's birthday and the birthday you now both share, hopefully for a long time.

- end -

✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩

an: that's all. it's short i guess but i really wanted to write some one shot, so thank God it's jeno's birthday and i have an excuse. hope you enjoy it! - 고양이 🐈

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEE JENO! EVEN IF YOU ARE NOW A 20 YEAR OLD ADULT, YOU ARE STILL A BABY TO ME 💚 (i'm same age with the nct pig liners 😉) love you, baby!

[spideycents]

Far From Home: Chapter 3

Blurb: When Ashlyn wins the Brother’s Trust event to visit the set of Spider-Man: Far From Home, it’s a dream come true that she doesn’t want to wake up from. Here’s hoping she doesn’t turn it into a nightmare.

a/n: I’m the worst at descriptions. Don’t ever say I didn’t warn you that this is god awful. It’s seriously so bad. I have many regrets.

Warnings: This is shit. Read at your own risk. Also language and some extremely cringey uses of memes. Sorry not sorry.

—-

We’re the last people to board the plane. Literally the last. Which is my fault though because I had to run to the bathroom and Matt didn’t want to get on without me. Brownie points for him.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he gripes when I come back to find everyone else gone. Jesus, I wasn’t in the bathroom that long.

I make a face at Matt and scramble to collect my bags. We shuffle onto the plane and find our seats. We argue over who gets the window seat and ultimately I win the 2-out-of-3 game of rock-paper-scissors so I put my carry-on in the overhead bin then climb over to my seat and shove my backpack below my feet.

“Oof,” Matt exclaims as he drops into his chair. “I am so glad we went for the side with two seats instead of three.” His eyes scan over the completely packed flight.

“Same,” I nod. Our mutual loathing for all things social interactions really comes in handy in situations like this.

We plug in our phones and headphones, then Matt disappears into his Twitter and I try to go back to Two Dots, but my hands are kind of shaking and my heart’s beating faster and my throat’s really dry and I wanna get up and run laps around the plane while I scream bloody murder and then I wanna run back home and lock myself in my room and turn off all the lights and curl up in the corner under my desk and rock back and forth while I cry because holy fucking shit I can’t believe this is actually happening.

“We’re going to London.”

“I know,” Matt says emphatically while still looking at his phone.

“We’re actually going to London. Like this is happening. We’re on a plane.”

He looks up, his eyes wide. “I know. I’m literally going to scream when we land.”

“I’m expecting you to,” I laugh lightly.

He looks at me, but before he makes more jokes, his eyebrows knit together. “Do you need water or some food? You look pale. Like paler than normal. Like are you sure you’re alive?”

“I’m not,” I say flatly. “It’s okay though. My ghost will follow you through London and stay with Tom when you leave.”

“Fine by me,” Matt smirks. “Your ugly mug won’t ruin my selfies.”

“You’re welcome,” I smile.

He goes back to scrolling through Twitter and rambles to me about some drama that’s happening right now while I dig around in our shopping bag of goodies from the concourse and find my Dr Pepper and a bag of Goldfish.

I take a swig from my drink, but I’m gonna hold off on the goldfish until we’re up in the air. I send a quick text to my parents to let them know we’re on the plane then I put phone on airplane mode.

Matt grips the armrests while we zoom down the runway.

“It’s like a roller coaster,” I say, kind of loudly so he can hear me over the engines and the wheels. “Just with a really long climb and we stay at the top of the hill for a very, very long time before the drop.”

“Don’t say drop,” he says curtly.

I grimace. “Sorry.”

“I’ve flown before,” he adds. “You don’t have to comfort me.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I thought you said you like flying? That it’s just the security and getting through the airport that stresses you out.”

“I do,” he nods slowly, “but shakey planes are never fun.”

I turn away and look out the window as we lift off the tarmac. “Here’s hoping there’s no turbelence,” I mutter.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

My cheeks burn. “Sorry.”

I leave Matt alone until we reach 30,000 feet and the plane levels out. The fllight attendants come by and give us the typical plane goodies, then another cart follows with drinks.

I manage to talk Matt into watching a movie with me by hitting play at the same time on both of our screens. It takes us a few minutes to decide on something and I’m not even slightly surprised when we settle for Civil War.

“Can we just skip to-“

“No,” I interrupt Matt. “But rewinding and watching it 20 times is definitely an option.”

Which we do. Not 20 times, but we definitely rewatch the Peter Parker scene a few times and the airport twice and squeal our way through the end credits scene.

It ends up taking almost four hours for us to get through the movie cause we keep pausing it to talk then having to get back in sync only for us to pause it again a few minutes later.

It’s midnight Atlanta time when we finish so we both agree to try to get some sleep. It feels like minutes before Matt’s mumbling in his sleep. I don’t know how he does it. It’s like he’s got a superpower for falling asleep in the blink of an eye.

I think I blink a few times and that’s all the sleep I get.

Sleeping on planes is practically impossible already, adding my excitement and energy and racing thoughts on top of that, it's just painful, honestly.

I put my headphones on and listen to music with my eyes closed until the lights come back on in the plane and someone cracks their window a few rows up and daylight floods in.

After I wake Matt up, we spend the rest of the flight rambling about all things Spider-Man and Tom and Marvel and Avengers 4 theories and questions we might ask Tom and things we might try to weasel out of him and our plan to try to convince him to let us be extras in a scene.

We try to see the UK and London outside the window, but the clouds are too thick and rain starts to pelt the glass.

I look at Matt. “I’m so sorry.”

“You can’t apologize for the weather. You’re not God,” he laughs. “I’m not upset anyway. Now I get that real London experience.”

He still watches out the window while we go in for landing and I tell him about walking through Heathrow and taking the train to Paddington, which we won’t be doing because apparently Mrs. Holland and possibly one of Tom’s brothers will be waiting for us at Arrivals and they’re going to drive us to our hotel.

My hands are shaking when we finally unbuckle and get up to collect our stuff and get off the plane.

“Oh my god, it’s happening,” I say excitedly under my breath.

“It’s happening!” Matt mimics. “We’re here!”

“If you had to pick which twin might be with their mom outside, which one?” I ask while we walking down the aisle.

“Neither,” he says, without hesitating. “It’ll be Paddy. Not a doubt. And he won’t be happy about it.”

“You’re so right,” I laugh.

Which, of course, he is.

He always is.

It takes us a second to find them when we walk out, but Mrs. Holland is holding a sheet of paper with our names on it in big bold letters, so it’s not that hard. I am glad though that I emailed them a picture of Matt and I, so they’re not surprised when we walk up to them.

Paddy’s on his phone when we first notice them, but it’s put away by the time we reach them.

“Hi,” I smile and hope my voice isn’t croaky. Matt and I stopped by the bathrooms after we got off the plane so we could change clothes and brush our teeth, so at least I don’t have to worry about morning breath. “I’m Ashlyn and this is Matt. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hello, it's so nice to meet you as well." Mrs. Holland smiles and shakes our hands. “I’m Nikki and this is Paddy.”

He waves and half-smiles. “Hi.”

"Thank you for donating to The Brother's Trust," Mrs. Holland adds.

"Oh, of course," I smile. "You're so welcome. I love all the work you guys do."

"Thank you very much," Mrs. Holland smiles. “Shall we take your things to the car?” She reaches for my suitcase.

“Oh it’s okay, I got it,” I say politely.

“Me too,” Matt adds.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “It’s no trouble, really.”

“We’re good,” Matt smiles. “I feel bad that I didn’t pack that lightly anyway. I don’t want to make you drag my bag around.” He laughs lightly and I nod.

“We’re the worst at packing,” I say. “I might ask Tom for some pointers. He looks like he’s good at it.”

“He really isn't,” Mrs. Holland laughs lightly. “He certainly didn’t use to be, at least. You should’ve seen everything he brought when they filmed The Impossible. I thought he was trying to bring his entire bedroom.”

We roll our suitcases out of Heathrow and across the parking garage while Mrs. Holland tells us some stories about Tom and airports. Who doesn’t love embarrassing anecdotes from parents? I have to remember to mention one of these to Tom when we meet, just to see how red his face gets.

Huh.

Oh wow.

This really is happening.

We’re meeting Tom soon.

Cool.

My brain is melting to soup right now.

It’s no big deal.

It’s fine.

This is fine.

I’m fine.

—-

So, this is back. We'll see how regularly I update. lol - K :P