#Chuck can’t stand to see these fuckers happy

[annmariethrush]

One of the things I like about supernatural as a destiel shipper is the fact that there’s kind of always a totally justifiable reason why they haven’t gotten together yet. Cas is an angel, the fucking apocalypse, Dean has been sent to comp-het dad suburbia as a final wish and Cas is leading a civil war, Cas is dead, Cas’s memory is gone, Cas is insane and traumatized, they’re stuck in a goddamn monster world, Cas is being mind controlled, Sam is possessed by an angel (it’s complicated), Dean is on a murder spree, Cas is possessed by the fucking Devil, wait they’re kind of married here now (??), oh nvm they disagree on abortion (Cas wants to adopt a baby), Cas is dead again, they’re co parenting a child, Dean is possessed by an archangel (not the devil, but worse), their child dies, Cas has literally made a pact on his life that he will die if he is happy, Cas is dead AGAIN.

There are little moments where they could have figured it out. Moments they could have hooked up and then tried to ignore it. Moments where maybe they could have actually ignored the fucking nightmare they live in and done it anyway. But it feels so much more legitimate as a ship for the fact that it’s always logically avoided because even the lord god knows that if you just left them alone and not busy for too long they would be living their best civil partnership life and illegally collecting orphans.

It also means that people writing canon-verse fics have 12 seasons worth of options to write in cause they are so well balanced on that ledge that you could feasibly rip them over it at any time. S4 destiel is just as plausible as S9 destiel is just as plausible as S13 destiel.

[hoetani]

|JEALOUSY JEALOUSY|

Warnings: Fluff, suggestive, JEALOUS RIN 😋 (17+ Blog)

Relationship: Rindou Haitani x fem!Reader

A/n: bit of a shitpost butttt

Rindou had promised to take you on a date of his own volition to make up for the late nights at the office - it wasn’t really a big deal, but it made his heart warm when he saw how happy you were. With everything booked, you were supposed to enjoy a nice dinner where he could show you off and smirk at the jealous fuckers who’s eyes lingered for too long. Unfortunately, at the last minute the plans changed and to his dismay, you insisted on joining him at the club.

And with the way you’re dressed up all pretty for him, he doesn’t want any handsy idiots thinking they’ll get lucky, but with the way you work your puppy eyes he can’t say no.

He wishes he said no.

After greeting everyone, his teeth grind when you hug them for a second too long, unable to miss the flirty smile you sent his way. He wants nothing more than to take you home, especially after witnessing the slow smirk that spreads across Sanzu’s face. The Bonten men can deny it all they please, their tough exteriors crack in your presence, they all harbour a soft spot for his wife.

“I’m going to the other room,” you whisper in your husbands ear, breath tickling his neck. Waving you off without any regard, he knows you’ll be safe on this floor with staff members dotted everywhere, in fact he’s relieved, maybe he’ll be able to focus now.

He should’ve known.

He watches through the two way mirror as you enter the room next door, a private party for the rich. His jaw clenches as you saunter to the dance floor, grabbing the first girl in your sight. The way you shift is sinful, every movement of your legs perfectly accentuating your sensual figure. One by one, the other men pause their conversations to watch, appraising you with their horrid eyes. He could’ve sworn one of them was drooling like a rabid dog, it pisses him off.

To Rindou’s distaste, not only could he admire the hypnotising sway of your hips, the remaining members of Bonten can also see your unparalleled beauty. His knuckles turn white, glancing down to see the paper in his hand crumpled beyond repair.

Following his train of thought, the pink-haired dumbass opens his mouth, “I-”

“Don’t even think about it,” Rindou growls. Aggressively, he stands, chucking the crumpled paper at Sanzu before marching out the door. The immature cheers of his comrades as he leaves the room has his mouth set into a scowl.

Too caught up in your fun, you almost jump when an arm snakes around you, but the recognisable scent and familiar calloused hands have you smirking, finally.

“What are you doing here?” You feign innocence, continuing to dance but this time with him. He accepts, hands tracing down your waist as he stakes his claim, unafraid to shoot glares at anyone still staring.

“Acting like you don’t know,” he whispers in your ear, “You’re in trouble.”

A shudder wracks through your spine deliciously as his hands find purchase on your moving hips, pulling you so close that there isn’t a hairs width between you. He can feel all of you, from the heart beating rapidly in your chest, to the warmth radiating from your skin.

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it?”

He smirks, his sick, sadistic, love-sick smirk, before hauling you over his shoulder, hand resting on your ass as he leads you away from the club, back home where he intends to give you the attention you’re craving so badly.

“You’ll just have to see doll.”

[sukirichi]

dutifully yours. [01]

Attached to the could’ve been’s of a promised happily ever after with the Crown Prince disguised under a scheme for power and greed, you are torn between choosing your happiness — or abandoning it to fulfill your duty as the future Queen.

→ unedited bcos i’m brave lazy. implied patriarchy. angst in future chapters. pure romance and fluff for now. royalty au. eventual smut. prince naoya !! i love him sm i could cry. this fic will break me, okay. naoya is close to canon but with my twist if that makes sense. drama in future chapters. oh and listen to this while reading <3

→ massive shoutout to my besties for always hyping me and helping me uwu, i present this token of prince naoya being an ideal husband okay cry cry i love him sm im crying. anyways pls enjoy bcos i poured my heart out to this and bcos i want more people in the naoya fucker club :>

one | next (to be posted)

Ever since the day your mother taught you how to read, you’ve had your nose buried in a book. Losing yourself in different worlds, swooning over fictional princes, and fantasizing for a love story ripped out of fairytale itself with such burning, passionate romance – you’d been through it all, dreamt of it all. And yet, you struggled to stop yourself from tugging at your dress.

The tight corset hadn’t even been the main focus of your worries, and neither was the heavy rivière resting on your collarbones.

“Would you stop fidgeting?” Beside you, your mother pursed her lips, fingers decorated with jewels stopping in their movements of fanning herself. The temperature hadn’t been particularly high inside the limousine that evening. You supposed it was the mere sight of you tugging and gulping audibly every now and then, gloved hands running over the hems of your collar.

You ducked your head down. “Sorry, Mother. I can’t help it.”

“Dear, your anxiety is written all over your face,” she sighed, turning your face to her as she cupped your cheeks. Smiling tenderly like a mother always did, your heart felt soothed even by the slightest bit. You wished she could keep holding you like this – like you were a fragile flower she was afraid of breaking; a fragile flower that needed more care handled than most. Tonight, however, you felt a hundred years older. Like you’d accidentally clicked on fast forward and got launched to the future. A future that seemed so unclear yet so...perfect. So right.

“How would the Prince fancy you if you’re sweating bullets like that? It’s not a good look for a marquess’ daughter.”

At the mention of the Crown Prince, your heart sank again. “My apologies, Mother. I’m just rather nervous. It’s the Crown Prince we’re talking about here.”

“He is quite the looker, isn’t he?” she giggled behind her fan, “Strong and handsome, as well.”

“My ladies. You are not fantasizing over the Crown Prince in my presence, are you?”

Crossing her leg over the other, your mother leaned forwards, elbows on her knees as she winked at your father. The marquess had his torso half twisted from the passenger seat, glaring playfully at your mother’s unabashed features. “It is of no seriousness, My Lord. I’m simply easing your daughter’s nerves.”

Your father sighed in worry. “What’s got you so worked up, child? You are beautiful. The Prince would be blind to not notice you.”

Each fibre in your body screamed in desperation for your father to be right. Tonight was not just any other night – the entire Kingdom, including noblewomen, foreign royals, and unwed daughters from honourable families had been invited to the Zen’in Castle for one purpose only: to find his Crown Prince a suitable wife, one that would be fit to be the next Queen as well. As the daughter of the marquess, you’d naturally received the invitation. It felt just like yesterday when the mail arrived and you’d cheered so much in joy the chickens went flying out of their coops, your horses galloping and whinnying at surprise, and now you here – minutes away from the palace where you were soon to be deemed worthy or unworthy to be beside His Highness.

With a shaky smile, you dug your nails into your thighs. “Well, we’ve only met once, Father. I doubt the Prince would remember me.”

“Just smile, darling. You will do great.”

To no one’s surprise, the Zen’in Castle brimmed with people and esteemed guests. Men and women danced with one another as muted chatters and chuckles blended in with the grand royal orchestra, everyone dressed to the nines and making you feel completely out of place.

The moment you’d been welcomed by the knights and led to the palace doors, your dress began to feel tighter than usual, your ribs clenching uncomfortably from the pressure. Your hands had not stopped trembling either, not even when you hid it behind your back and nodded at the people passing by. There were governor-generals, dukes, earls, professors and royal advisors and even families of the royal family’s inner circle of knights. Everyone looked like they belonged here. Chatting amongst one another over the finest of wines or discussing conspiracies on where the Kingdom of Zen’in would be in the next sixty years of the future King’s reign, no one here seemed to be out of place.

Everyone except you.

A warm hand was suddenly placed on the small of your back, making you gasp. Your mother’s smile was nothing short of warm as she held you close to her one last time, leaving a kiss on your forehead. You didn’t even realize how much you shook until she clasped her hands with yours. “Calm down, dear,” she reminded, “You’ll be on your own now. This is where we leave you since we’re not supposed to mingle with potential princesses.”

“Mother!” Your eyes widened in embarrassment. Looking around frantically, you bit your lip in fear someone must’ve heard.

Of course, while it would be no surprise most guests – if not all – hoped that their daughter would be the Crown Prince’s chosen fiancée, it still felt wrong to boldly assume such when you could barely keep up with the events of tonight.

However, your mother merely laughed. “I am proud of you, dear. Never forget that. It doesn’t matter whether you are chosen or not. We’re only here for formality and respect to the King and Queen’s demands.”

“You say that as if the Crown Prince really would not bother with me.”

“We didn’t mean that,” your father cut in, a flute of champagne already nested between his calloused fingers. Ever since you arrived, he’d been snatched away by fellow earls and barons, disappearing into the crowd for a ‘hearty conversation over one’s lands.’ You knew better than that, though. That statement always translated to which leader got to have more chances to wine and dine with the King, to which your family was ridiculously reminded of that you’d been stationed to the most faraway land where even hearing news from the royal papers was but a privilege.

“Just be yourself, alright? And enjoy the party. It’s about time you met with girls your own age and made some friends.”

“I – Father, wait!”

A slender young woman slithered to your side out of nowhere, her golden brown eyes following the silhouettes of your parents. It wasn’t long before they completely disappeared. Left alone with the stunning woman that was – for some reason – dressed in a plain black curve hugging dress too modest for tonight’s appropriateness, you took three steps away in caution. “You must be from way up North,” she noted, her head to the tipped to the side. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

God, was she beautiful. Long, thick eyelashes and short hair chopped in messy yet elegant curves, you struggled to hold her gaze. “Oh, yes, I come from the Terratian Borders. My family is stationed there under His Majesty’s orders.”

She hummed to herself. “The Terratian Borders are mostly forests and fields, no? The last time my family and I visited there, I came across the loveliest dandelions I’ve ever laid eyes on. Shame they died on the way back,” offering her hand – again, bare and empty with decorations yet still littered with faint scars and cuts – she beamed at you. “I’m Mai, by the way. Mai Zen’in.”

Zen’in?

Hands cupping your mouth, you bowed deep until your back ached. “Lady Mai!” you shut your eyes closed, unable to live with the shame. Mai Zen’in; one of the iconic twin pair from the extended Zen’in royal family, both a fashion icon and a legend for being a rumoured female knight. To have her in your presence was an honour. “My apologies for not recognizing you any sooner, Lady Mai!”

“Stand up, I’m not a royal,” she sniggered, “We’re just relatives of the actual monarch, but don’t let the family name fool you. The Crown Prince barely even acknowledges us being of the same blood.”

Albeit hesitant, you followed her gestures of making you stand up. You straightened your back and cleared your throat, fighting the urge to go haywire the moment his name was brought into the conversation. Not only would you be seeing Prince Naoya again in real life for the first time in years, but you’d also made acquaintances with his distant niece. However, his name was spoken with malice.

Frowning, you faced Lady Mai in all seriousness. “Prince Naoya? Why so?” Lady Mai looked at you like you’d grown two heads.

“He’s an ass, that’s why.”

“I-I don’t think he is,” you defended, “The Prince has been nothing but kind to me.”

“I didn’t know he was capable of kindness,” she muttered more so under her breath, low enough you were unsure whether you were supposed to hear it in the first place. Lady Mai then shook her head to herself before stealing a flute from a waiter passing by. Chucking it your way, her face turned dark and grim. “Take it as free advice: stay as far away from his as possible. The Crown Prince is nothing but good news.”

“Is it because he has lots of lovers?” you inquired with a small voice, “Uhm – well – It was an assumption. With a title and handsomeness like that, it would make sense everyone would want to be the Crown Prince’s lover.”

Lady Mai’s lip curled upwards. “Prince Naoya won’t bother with lovers. He is too occupied for that.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Heard from whom?”

“The Royal Declaration from His Majesty himself,” you said, “Was it not the purpose of this ball? To find worthy candidates to be the Crown Prince’s betrothed? His coronation is coming soon.”

“Right. I forgot today was technically a bridal market,” she scratched the edge of her brow, falling silent for a moment. Her eyes scanned the lively crowd for a brief moment – watching with you as everyone laughed and danced to their heart’s content – the grand final event of the routine personal dance with the Crown Prince himself slowly approaching to reality. “You are joining in the festivities, are you not? Later, when he arrives, he shall meet you.”

“I am obligated to as a noble bachelorette, though I doubt His Highness would even look my way. There are far richer noblewomen here and even daughters of duke that would be perfect as his wife. ”

“You may have a point for that,” she hummed to herself, unaware that her agreement to the Crown Prince not paying attention to you left a sting both in your ego and heart. Not that it lasted long, for Lady Mai was already tugged on the arm by another equally fiercely beautiful woman – her older twin, Maki Zen’in. Soon to be governon-general of the Kingdom.

Lady Mai smiled in apology. “I need to go now since I’m not a part of this event. But hey, if ever I come around to visit the Borders again, perhaps you could entertain me?”

“I would be honoured to, Lady Mai.”

“You are sweet and innocent,” it was her sister who spoke this time, glasses perched high on her nose that concealed the wariness of her gaze. “I hope the Crown Prince never gets to your routine.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s nothing; she was talking to herself. Maki does that a lot,” Lady Mai’s forced chuckles were barely heard from the music. “You enjoy the party now. Don’t drink too much lest you want to embarrass yourself in everyone’s eyes and be talk of the Kingdom. Prince Naoya would hate it if you took the attention away from him.”

“Oh, uhm...”

“It’s a joke, Lady Y/N. Relax.”

You bowed once more. “My apologies.”

“The dance is about to begin,” Maki tapped on your shoulder, making you look up right where her eyes zeroed in. And exactly in the middle of the grandiose hall, under the sparkling golden chandeliers where he made all the gold in the world look incomparable next to him, the Crown Prince stood in his fully glory. Blond hair with the ends stained of midnight gelled back to reveal his forehead, the Crown Prince’s beauty never failed to shine. Whether it be in the papers, in the tabloids, in the billboards that you passed on the way to the city, or from way back when you met him for the first time as a naive, innocent teen – Crown Prince Naoya came straight out of a magazine cover.

In the back of your head, you could hear either of the twins murmuring good luck. Maybe both of them had said it – you had no idea. All of your attention, all the sensibility and coherence of your state had been switched the next instant, as if your heart and soul was born for the sole purpose of being bewitched by your Crown Prince.

And as if feeling someone’s gaze on him, the Crown Prince’s eyes trailed over the crowd. Almost boredly, his sharp eyes bounced from one giggling woman to another, the ends of his lips smirking upwards for just the tiniest bit. It must’ve stroked his ego. Until his eyes connected with yours. The Crown Prince’s eyebrows knitted together. You had no idea how you looked in that moment, and quite frankly, you didn’t care. Because the Crown Prince was looking at you, and you were looking at him with hearts in your eyes along with your heart pulsing at the tip of your tongue.

“Let us begin,” his lips moved from the distance, “Play the music. I shall dance with my bride.”

The air shifted in a split second. Murmurs were thrown over the room, women and men alike turning pale. Even the orchestra was stunned from the Crown Prince’s entrance – and it hadn’t even been dramatic to his standards – yet the whole castle fell mum from just a few of his words. A few seconds later, the crowd recomposed itself, and the strings began to dance along with its bows.

You are pushed into the crowd. Nearly colliding into the arms of another, you quietly thank the masked man who was to be your first partner of the night.

All the men joining the dance floor dressed with the intention of making the Crown Prince shine. Prince Naoya stood out from the throng of white as per the colour code, his blood red uniform as both Prince with the  golden crest of the military leader pinned to his right breast. The other men meant to be filler partners until all the potential brides got to their designated three minutes with the Prince were all dressed in black, faces covered behind a plain black mask. None were allowed to talk. None were allowed to utter even a word, and so your partner pursed his lips in displeasure at your apology.

Whatever. You just had to wait a few more rounds before the song finished and transitioned into a new one; the song where you’d been informed would be your time alone with the Prince.

You’d been so lost in your head you barely breathed the entire dance. From partner to partner, you blanked. Your heart drummed so wildly in its cage it begged to come out, and strings of apologies were let out each time your masked partners grimaced for a brief second when their hands came in contact with your sweaty ones. Around you, all the lovely women smiled and danced graciously, mouths moving in unreadable conversations shared with the Crown Prince. Not once did you look at the six partners you’ve danced with. Not once did you worry about tripping on your own feet. Not once did you care that some of the masked men held you a little too roughly for your comfort. Your entire reason for existing in that moment was to witness the Crown Prince himself, mirroring his frown that got deeper and deeper with each woman retreating to the sea of people he’d rejected.

Not once did you even think about being one of them – the girls who’ve ducked their heads down as their parents comforted them over not being the chosen one, of bringing ‘dishonour’ to their families that the mighty Crown Prince had deemed them unworthy. Tears streamed down their faces until black ink followed afterwards, lips trembling from silent sobs.

Despite their broken prides – although there was that minority who simply sighed in relief after returning to their own families – no one would dare interrupt the Crown Prince’s dances.

All of these thoughts crossed your mind too late and at the exact time your masked partner pulled away from you, body half bent in a bow with his arm outstretched to the side. Following where he was gesturing at, your eyes met the Crown Prince’s tall and lean stature, a few blond fringes now fallen from his movements.

Even though a thin layer of sweat shone from his face, Prince Naoya remained ethereal.

And like a snake charmed by the musician’s seductive tone, your feet moved on its own. Fingers stretching until it met with the Crown Prince’s large and warm ones, you were now in front of him. With him. Holding him, touching him, meeting him eye for eye and realizing – gold. His eyes burned a deep shade of gold, elegantly rich and heartbreakingly stunning your heart ached.

Before you knew it, your hands began to tremble, feeling as if your body had been corded into a corset three sizes smaller. You could not breathe, and the Crown Prince took notice.

“You are stiff. Do I make you uncomfortable?” Good Saint. If only possible, you would’ve closed your eyes and basked in the deep warmth of his voice. It reverberated from deep within, breathed out with an air of natural authority and profound confidence it made your knees weak. As if sensing his effect on you (though for the wrong reasons, it seemed), Prince Naoya hummed to himself. “This routine shall last for a few minutes before I can let you go, I’m afraid.”

You instantly realized the implications of your silence. “N-not at all, Your Highness! I am honoured to be dancing with you.”

“There is no honour in a choreographed dance. Everyone will dance with me. It’s nothing special.”

Your heart fell. Prince Naoya not only sounded dejected, but detached as well. As if he found no pleasure or specialty in this event, at a time where he had every opportunity to meet his lover, and that this ball was merely a task to be checked off in his already long list of responsibilities. It wasn’t disappointment, per se, but rather melancholy that left a bitter taste in your mouth. Not because Prince Naoya held little to no regards for something you treasured, but because he sounded terribly alone. Like he was simply waiting for it to end out of discomfort.

“It’s special to me, Your Highness,” you blurted out faster than you could stop yourself. For a moment, you feared you may have offended him, but the Crown Prince only laughs.

And when he did – saint, when he laughed – his eyes crinkled into half moons, pearly whites flashing against the bright lights and his whole chest shook with amusement.

You’d never seen him smile this way before.

Prince Naoya’s laughter didn’t cease. Around you, your gut instincts told that people were now beginning to look; the Crown Prince’s deep rumbles of laughter sounded exquisitely like music as well, after all. “ Is it special to you because you are now dancing and within the Crown Prince’s proximity? As much as I presume how exhilarating it might be for those who mostly see me in the papers and in the tabloids, I assure you, dancing with your Prince is not an honour. Especially when you are all sent the invitations based on your status and not your worthy traits.”

“It’s special to me,” you mumbled, growing shy all of a sudden when the Crown Prince nodded at you to continue. “Because...because it reminds me of the first time we met.”

The Crown Prince hummed in amusement.

“We have met before?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I’m from the Terratian Borders – my father is a loyal servant of His Majesty. You visited the borders when you were eighteen and I was sixteen. Do you remember it, Your Highness? You stormed in my private library.”

Indeed, the young barely-out-of-his-teens Crown Prince barged into your home’s library years ago. You were not previously informed he and his parents would be visiting since they arrived wordlessly, so you were stuck in your chambers as usual, killing time if not for sleeping and tending to the animals. Perched on a ladder, you attempted to reach for a book on the upper shelf when your foot slipped beneath you. At the age of sixteen, you were dramatic enough to say your life flashed before your eyes. You would’ve screamed then had strong arms not appeared out of nowhere, the Crown Prince staring at you with wide, golden eyes as they were now, his breathy rasped as he asked, are you okay, my lady?

The mere recollection of that fateful memory had your cheeks warming in delight. “You were so charming and heroic back then. Even when I had no idea you were a royal, I would have still believed you to be princely,” you said rather absentmindedly, blinking once then twice at your words. “Of course, it’s understandable if you do not remember, Your Highness!”

“My apologies. I do not remember, though Terratia is a wonderful place. Such a shame I was not informed beforehand they had a lovely daughter.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” you cheered back, cheeks and jaw beginning to ache from how wide you were smiling. But could anyone blame you? You felt absolutely silly that you were a breath away from passing out minutes ago, and now here you were, dancing with the Crown Prince and sharing memories with him like it was a daily occurrence. The words it’s true love when you feel at peace with them suddenly rang back at your head from that latest romance novel you read, and you turned away, hoping the Crown Prince would not read your thoughts to your face. However, Prince Naoya’s lips pursed into a thin line, all traces of humour now disappeared. “I’m sorry – should I not have laughed?”

“No, I don’t mind,” he mused with his jaw locked tight, “I just haven’t seen anyone react that way before.”

“Like what?”

“Like my words meant the entire universe to them. I may dare even say you look terribly in love, though I cannot blame you on that one, can I?”

Prince Naoya shook his head the minute the words left his mouth. Forcing himself to believe it couldn’t be real, perhaps, you truly did not know anymore. Your only plan for tonight was to see the Crown Prince and get to live out your dream of seeing him once more even for just a brief moment before you travelled back home while he married another, and yet – “Your Highness, I’m in love with you. I have always been since the day we met.”

You could no longer stop the words. The voice at the back of your head begged you to shut up and not cause a scene, that your time had passed up and people were staring, yet you remained in his arms no matter how much you wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole.

“Please do not misunderstand me, Your Highness. I did not come here to attempt to steal your heart and be your wife, though I will admit I have dreamt of meeting you again for so many moons. I...I only want to tell you this. That I love you and even though it was a brief moment, I think the love I’ve always read about felt real and possible for the first time in my life,” chuckling nervously, you gather to courage to face him, adoration shining for the Crown Prince stood shock still before you, however stunned he may be. “I love you, Your Highness. I love you. And to whoever lucky woman you choose to be your betrothed, I hope she takes care of you and showers you with all the affection you are deserving of. You would make a great King. So God help his Crown Prince, and may you lead us all into a better world.”

Prince Naoya did not budge a muscle. His eyes remained hard on yours, breath warm as his nostrils fumed. With each passing second that he did not speak, you grew restless and tugged your arm away from his hold with a disgraceful smile.

You’d truly crossed your line. The repercussions to be faced for this impoliteness would destroy your family’s honour. You had to leave. “Your Highness? The song has changed. It’s time to let go—”

The Crown Prince inched close enough until his hair tickled your cheeks, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he pulled you close, close enough that your lower bodies touched. Skin ablaze with heat, you dared not move an inch. “Do you mean it?” he demanded lowly, his fingers ghosting over your wrist to hold you in place. “Do you truly love me? Not for what I have, not for who I was born to be, but me as a person itself?”

Closing your eyes to shudder in a deep breath, you exhaled. “Of course, Your Highness. Even if you were not born as a Prince, I’m sure I would’ve still loved you in a different universe.”

“But I do not know you.”

“We don’t have to know each other, Your Highness, and we never will. Once you let me go, I’ll return to the shadows where I belong, and I will continue supporting you until the day of your coronation.”

“And if I refuse to let you go?” he clicked his tongue, “What will you do then?”

The Crown Prince’s spicy perfume must be an aphrodisiac or hypnotizer of sorts. Everything he did messed with your mind that it was too late – the music had stopped and people were no longer drinking or chatting. Everyone’s eyes were on you and the Crown Prince. You could only imagine how controversial this position must be; with his lips trailing dangerously close to that sensitive spot in your neck where you nearly moaned. You really needed to leave.

“P-people are looking, Your Highness. You do not want this affair with someone you won’t choose—”

“Who said I won’t choose you?” Finally, he pulled away. But Prince Naoya never once tore his gaze away from yours, nor did he allow you to look at anyone but him as he caresses your jaw so light and feathery you wondered if he was truly there.“Who said I haven’t laid my eyes on you the moment you walked in here? This ball is for naught because of you, Lady Y/N. I’ve already made my choice, and you helped me confirm it as soon as you danced with me.”

“Your Highness...”

“Look at me,” he ordered, your eyes flitting from his pinkish lips to his sharp nose and then to his fox-like gaze. Only this time, Prince Naoya was no longer harsh. “Don’t be scared.”

“But they’re looking.”

“You are with me, of course they’ll look,” he teased, “They wish to be you right now. But ignore them and dance one more time with me.”

It wasn’t like you had a choice, but did it matter? One nod from him was all it took before the orchestra fumbled back to their spots and a new song played, Ode of Moonlight Lovers, and the Crown Prince was guiding you back to where he had originally danced with you.

From the corners of your eyes, you caught a glimpse of your parents with their mouths gaped open; your father looking like he was on the verge of passing out. However, you felt nothing but joy, nothing but the adrenaline pumping through your veins as he danced and twirled you in his arms. When the music stopped and you were both panting for air with silly smiles on your face, it dawned on you that you were with the Prince. No, rather, it was only you and the Prince alone. Even in the sea of people whose faces began to blur, he prevailed crystal clear.

You could recognize him anywhere, find him everywhere.

Prince Naoya stepped impossibly closer until your chests touched, hearts beating as one. Cupping your jaw, he was near enough that he swallowed all your shaky breaths with a small, teasing smile like you both shared a secret the entire world could not know.

“Do I still make you nervous?”

Laughing, you nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“It’s beloved now,” he corrected, face inching closer and closer to a point you could count the number of his lower lashes. “And what do lovers do to seal their union?”

“M-Marriage?”

“Close, but this is much better.”

If anyone were to tell you that you would have a love story ripped out straight from a fairytale, you would’ve laughed at their faces. You were no Cinderella, nor were you a goddess of beauty that could’ve possibly caught the Crown Prince’s eye. Yet, his soft lips were on yours, kissing you with as much passion you could only dream of that you cried.

Strong hands guiding the back of your waist, Prince Naoya dipped you lower to the ground – the grand of finish of his dance. He had chosen his bride.

The crowd cheered and rejoiced all around you, making you smile into the kiss. Fisting his collar to bring him closer to yours, your mouth burst into metaphorical fireworks as soon as his tongue mingled with yours for an experimental taste. He was bitter yet sweet; expensive wine resting on his tongue, yet a delicate vanilla sat heavily on his soft lips that molded with yours. It was a taste you could spend forever being addicted on. And you were crying, crying so much your chest ached and the Prince’s cheeks grew damp from yours. You’d dreamt of this for so long, too long now.

Prince Naoya slowly pulled you away, his thumb wiping the tears away from the pads of your cheeks with tenderness in his touch. However, the Prince was not satisfied. The crowd whooped as he leant down to kiss your forehead. “You are mine now, my princess.”

Looping his hands with yours, the Crown Prince led you out of the castle. The crowd parted naturally to make way for the new couple, and you were left staring at his broad back and the tuft of blond hair where you’d soon find out how soft it would be. Sending one last glance to your crying parents, you waved goodbye. You had no idea where the Crown Prince would take you but you were already bunching your dress up, heart completely filled with trust you did not question it. What mattered tonight and for the rest of your life was that it felt right. That it was him – your beloved Prince Naoya Zen’in and soon to be husband – that you’d follow through the moon and back.

[chiwhorei]

𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬

paring: kenny ackerman x fem!reader

genre: apocalypse!au, smut, dark content, 18+ mdni [cross-posted to Ao3]

word count: 3k

overview: kenny *i-wouldn’t-fuck-you-if-it-was-the-end-of-the-world* ackerman; but it is and you do . . . and you’ll probably do it again. or, if you read beyond the cut and wind up in hell that is legally not my fault.

tags: dymph does sacrilege once again, post-apocalypse au, blood, violence, zombies (only mentions of gore nothing specific), somnophilia, noncon, dubcon, degradation, smoking, insertion, sloppy oral, big age gap aka kenny is a nasty old man and reader is a sweet little virgin.

a.notes: happy *fucking* easter. this is for the smut pile’s apocalypse collab so go give everyone’s pieces a read, everyone has worked so incredibly hard. this is dedicated to @pleasantanathema​, who was both my beta reader and emotional support while stringing this together. here’s to the old man fuckery, cheers.

hymn: the seven deadly virtues - camelot

But stay awake at all times, praying that you may have strength to escape all these things that are going to take place, and to stand before the Son of Man. -Luke 21:36

                                      * * *

Wet.

A sticky kind of wet. Clinging on like thick clay, splattered across your neck— gore and sinew wrapped in a noose. Shades of decaying reds and browns are all you see these days. 

The seeping, molding kind of wet.

The smell is suffocating, the toll of death deep in your bones. You keep moving, you have to. One foot in front of the other, fingers fretting with the cross hanging between your collarbones. Counting your Hail Mary’s distracts from the ache in your soles and the burning feeling that you’re rotting away.

It was slow at first. The end of the world, the crashing, clattering end felt like a slow decent to hell. Pieces of the modern world falling away, the promise of tomorrow, the assurance of a cure. You refused to believe the dead could walk the earth until they were stumbling straight towards you. 

All of us, you think, are rotting away.

“Pick up the pace, kid. Are you trying to end up like the rest of those fuckers?” His voice rings from a few feet in front of you. The brush under your feet is dry, leaves crunching loudly with every weary step forward. 

Kenny always likes to remind you of your naïveté, insults about your rose tinted glasses barked crudely from around a cigarette. Your youth, your optimism, your beliefs-- useless traits in his opinion. What good is God in a world like this.

“Friends. They were our friends.” Your words come out in a whimper, the tone further irritating the man ahead of you.

He stops, turning around to catch your eyes, gaze piercing through the night like a knife. All that’s left of your composure is used to keep from crashing right into his chest.

“Ain’t no more room for friends in this world, baby doll,” a long pointer finger lifts your chin, the slightest touch still bruising, “thinkin’ like that is what’s going to get ya killed.”

Rose tinted glasses, cracked and splattered with blood, fall off and are lost to a world that no longer exists. Kenny let’s up and turns, pulling you farther into the thick brush. You could swear you feel the lenses as they splinter under your shoe.

                                      * * *

Kenny is a vile man. He knows his name isn’t on a reservation list at the Pearly Gates, he’s aware that a sinner lives on borrowed time. 

Nowadays, everyone is living on borrowed time. Even you.

You, he thinks, looking back to where you stumble over a tree branch, far to good for a world like this.

He can’t help but laugh, the absolute absurdity of his current situation. Escaping death by the skin of his teeth, watching any familiar faces burning in the remnants of a camp he couldn’t really call home. People that fought to the bone, melting or devoured or both.

And then there was you, standing in front of the flames, tears falling down the apples of your cheeks, stiff in shock and horror. He remembers the way your lips moved, mumbling a quiet prayer instead of trying to run. Stupid little thing.

It’s not the earth the meek inherit; it’s the dirt.

Was it pity that made Kenny pull you away from an infernal gravesite all those months ago? He’s never the hero of any story. No, it must have been something else.

Maybe it was the way you looked up with teary eyes, silently begging for help. Unwittingly making a deal with the devil. His teeth grind at the memory, the vision of how beautiful you look so completely helpless. 

Kenny leads and you follow, he hunts and you flitch at the sound of an arrow piercing flesh. The small squeak and proceeding thumb of meat as it hits the ground never fails to make you sick. When he’s not hunting for food, he’s hunting something else.

The sounds of death are all the same.

Some days you’re lucky, coming across abandoned hideouts or deserted cars. Snagging whatever hasn’t already been picked over; some ammo, the occasional can of peaches or pack of cigarettes. Kenny laughs dryly everytime, chucking the carton into his bag. Always the cigarettes, never the lighter. Most days, not so much.

Every night, you fall asleep to the flicker of a campfire, lulled by the steady sound of Kenny’s knife as it scrapes against a piece of wood. He’s always the last asleep. The woods are a dangerous place, the possibility of monsters circle at every moment. Under the veil of night, anything could happen. And it does.

He wipes his mouth, settling back into the harsh ground below him with a pleased hum. Your whimpers have settled back into a light snore. 

Kenny is a vile man, and you’re too concerned with the lifeless villain in the shadows that you forget about the one sitting on the other side of the fire.

Three months of waking up to aching limbs and misplaced panties can’t be a coincidence, can it?

                                      * * *

“Well ain’t this something.” Kenny pulls on the door, swinging it open with a loud creek. Your neck strains to look up at dark wood and steepled roof, the tall building hidden by dense forest, you two must be the first people to step inside in months. 

“A church.” You’d find comfort within these walls if you weren’t so positive that God had abandoned this world.

Statues of the Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph are empty behind their stone eyes, shadowed with an unsettling shade of red from the stained-glass windows. The moment is a time capsule, a vision of the congregation of saints bathed in blood.

A chill runs down your back, counting every vertebrae.

You push down the unsettling foreboding, focusing back on the instincts to survive instead of lingering on a religion that you can no longer make sense of.

“Hey kid, over here.” You pick up the pace, quickening footsteps away from holy symbolism and towards Kenny’s voice. You walk into the closest room off a dark hallway and find him leaning against the doorframe. The rooms are getting darker with the vanishing sun, but you make out shelves of cans and boxes, food, blankets, clothes.

“I bet they used this as a food pantry,” Your comment was probably an obvious assumption, but Kenny just hums in response, “there’s enough here to last up months.” 

Good samaritans in the first life are a saving grace is this one. Your cynicism lifts from heavy shoulders for just a moment. The lines between luck and divine intervention are fuzzy at best.

“I saw a well right outside too. Water’s probably cold as ice but it’s better than anything we’ve come across yet.” Kenny’s voice is even, but you swear he cracks a smile.

He was right, the water is cold enough to shatter your bones like ice. You shiver and chatter, teeth threatening to crack, but the feeling of being clean has you dumping bucket after bucket over your head. The grime and grit of your reality running down to seep into the grass below.

There’s no home to run to after the world ends, but water and food is more than you could imagine in recent months. Shuffling through boxes of donated clothes, you find a shirt big enough to sleep in. The fabric smells like moth-balls and dust, but the feeling of clean cotton against your skin is heavenly. 

You find Kenny in the clerical office, rummaging through the priests desk. The sun is replaced with a flight of candles, for the first time in forever, you don’t feel like death is standing right behind you.

“Would you look at that,” Kenny pulls a cigar from the desk, bringing it up to his nose for inspection, “Looks like father had his own little habit.”

Despite yourself, you laugh at his comment, rounding towards the large leather chair he’s settled into.

“Smoking kills you know.” You lean against the desk next to him. Your bare legs brush against his knee, the heat from your skin makes his mouth water.

“I think there’s more pressing concerns than tobacco, kid.”

There’s something different about tonight, even more than just the four walls and roof around you. There’s something about Kenny and the way his stare has followed you all night. You can feel a cord pulling taught, fraying in the middle before it snaps.

“Asshole.”

The plush of Kenny’s bottom lip is close enough to your cunt to be disastrous.  Friendly banter becomes laughing and swatting at his chest like a teenager. Communion wine and tension pulling you into him. The loneliness of this life becomes more apparent the closer he is to touching your skin. When did the man in front of you make your heart race so fast? 

Maybe you’ve always felt this way.

You feel it, the ghosts of last night, the night before. The ghosts of weeks or maybe even months. The familiarity of a touch you weren’t quite awake for. 

Ass arching off from where it sticks to the cherry wood, you want to feel it again. The laving of tongue and mouth against you. The devouring of your most intimate planes of skin, places no one else has ever touched before, places you were saving for your future husband.

The kiss as hot as hell.

“Awe, c’mon now,” His nose nudges against your clit, the movement pulling another cry from your throat to bounce against the high ceiling, “that’s not my name.”

“I’ve been tracing it into this precious cunt of yours every night,” each word is more unhinged than the last, no longer worried about the doe in his sights running away, “Do I need to spell it out for you again?”

There’s nowhere to run, pressed in between his canines.

Dreams of calloused fingers and a wandering mouth are now cementing as memories. The feeling of rough facial hair. The sounds of desperate moans and how they shake against you. 

The way his tongue curls like a signature. 

His mouth is flush against you again, sucking at your aching clit for only a moment before moving his attention to long lashes against your clenching hole.

“You must remember. You were moaning it so sweetly,” he nips at your puffy lips before drawing back. His chin is sheened in your arousal, slick refracting off the dimly lit space between you, flickering candles outline his features with a dance of orange shadows. Kenny’s eyes hold you captive, giving you one more chance to answer.

“What’s my name, kid?”

His tongue breaches you, a set of large, familiar hands keep your legs spread wide atop the desk. 

You remember— of course you do. You remember everything. The name stuck in your head like a broken record. The name you call for in a sleepy haze as your body is dragged into orgasm.

The name that’s spelled against you like a promise.

“K-Kenny please.”

That’s all that he needs, the only thing, if he’s being honest, that he’s ever needed.

“There’s my sweet little girl. Finally using your manners.” Two fingers come up to swipe against your pussy, stopping right before your clit and collecting slick to bring up to your eye line for inspection. You jump when the warm digits drag against your bottom lip, a silent prompt for your mouth to fall open.

Kenny sticks his fingers in, the intent to make you gag is clear but you take it. You’ll take anything he gives you. Your tongue swirls around the intrusion, running against each joint and suckling loudly. The sound is wet and lewd, the spit collecting at the corners of your mouth makes his head spin.

Your destruction, he decides, will be beautiful. 

Kenny’s fingers release with a wet pop. He runs callouses down from your cheek, over the curve of your tits and down your abdomen. Two fingers stop at your pubic bone to trace lightly against the skin in random patterns. 

“Your body is just as agreeable when you’re awake.” His words drip in sin, reminding you exactly how familiar he is with you. All of you.

Both thumbs come down to spread your lips, Kenny can’t help but take a moment-- just a beat-- to stare at your swollen, glossy clit and the quiver of your little hole. Your skin is soft, completely untouched by anyone else. He laid claim to almost every inch before you begged him to.

He sinks from the leather chair, kneeling in front of you. You’re the body and blood as far as a sinner like Kenny is concerned.

There’s a plea stuck in your throat. You want to beg him to slow down, it’s too much all at once, but you know if you cried out-- all you would do is beg him for more.

His tongue is long and flat against you, every swipe is punctuated with a growl. The rumbling from his chest is thrown against your clit like a current through cold water. Sharp, shocking, terrifying.

“Kenny, I- I want,” He sucks your throbbing clit into his mouth, rubbing the tip of his tongue against the hood. There’s no words in any language that make sense to you. There’s nothing but his name. 

“Kenny ah, I need, I don’t know how t—”

Your dangling over a fire, trying desperately to jerk away from the lick of the flames. 

“I know, kid, I know exactly what you need.” his breath is heavy and warm in fans across your skin. You're dripping down the sides of his face and onto the cleric’s desk. Kenny is covered in you, open mouthed kisses against the sweetest thing he’s ever had in his mouth. The tangy taste of your pussy mixing with the wine still on his tongue. 

If he spent forever between your thighs, it wouldn’t be nearly long enough.

“Such a sweet little thing, you’re insatiable.” All you can do is nod dumbly, eyes glazing over with a distinct look of teary submission. It’s so new to you, but grinding upwards and catching your clit against his chin seems like second nature.

The primal need for release is much stronger than any prayer of abstinence. 

“What would your little prayer circle think if they knew you spread your legs for a dirty old fucker like me?” Kenny coos against the apex of your thighs. His words knock on the hollow space behind your breastbone.

Your family and friends, the priest from St. Mary’s who baptized you, old man Jaeger from next door— all buried or burned to ash or so much worse.

Anyone you’ve ever loved is dead, maybe that’s why Kenny is still around.

There’s nothing that can hold you back anymore, the control you claw at slips from your fingers like watery silk. There’s no escaping the roughness of his stubble and an evil, serpent tongue.

“Kenny!”

You cum with a shattering cry, the sound ringing so loud in your ears you swear any enemy of the living in a 10 mile radius could hear you. In reality, what escapes is little more than a broken snivel. 

It hurts, muscles aching from the exertion of trying to keep from falling apart. Your body is a hairpin trigger, the comedown feels more like withdrawal.

“There’s my girl, my good little girl.” His voice is uncharacteristically soft, doting while you fall back to earth. It’s a strange feeling, you’ve never found comfort in Kenny before, he isn’t the shoulder you go to lean on. 

But tonight he’s the chin you buck into.

The aftershocks run across your naked skin, already missing the feeling of his touch as he settles back into the cracked leather chair. 

His cock presses into the denim confines uncomfortably, the ache can wait though. Whether this is his last night alive or has all the time in the world-- he’s going to savor the glistening prize nestled between your thighs. Kenny’s fingers find the cigar where it lies next to your knee, bringing it up to examine while you squirm at the cold night air against your wet cunt.

“No one will ever make you feel as good as I do,” both legs kick out, falling to dangle on either side of his knees in surprise as the cigar comes down to trace your outer lips. He presses the tuck inwards, pulling out slightly so you cry out. The harsh texture of the wrapper mixes with the most minimal of stimulation, causing tears to clump in your waterline. 

“Why don’t you think of a way to repay me, hmm?”

You push past the heaviness in your muscles, sitting up to meet his incredulous stare. Kenny sticks the cigar between his teeth, striking a match from the desk drawer to light the cap. The cigar is stale, cheap tobacco. But every drag now tastes like you.

“I- I could try to--” Words are left unspoken on your tongue, even now, the intonation is poison in your throat. 

You expect Kenny to laugh at your bashfulness, instead, two fingers come up to curl around the Rosary around your neck. He drags you forward, exhaling smoke into your parted, quivering lips. You try your best not to choke. 

He pulls the cigar away, ashing it carelessly on the floor.

“Use your words, kid, tell me what you want.” His words are sleazy but his voice is soft around the edges. Prompting you to shuffle onto his lap. His free hand rests in the small of your back to keep you steady.

“I want--” Fuck, your voice feels like it’ll fail, you take a moment to breathe, “I want you to fuck me, Kenny.” 

Your plea is rushed, so quick to hit his ears he almost misses it. There’s no hiding anymore, there’s nowhere else in this world but the private quarters of a long-dead clergy member. The space between you and Kenny is foggy and tense, only inches between lips.

There’s no more penance in this world, no more time to sit and atone for his sins with prayer. The soft, syrupy feeling of your cunt wrapping around his cock is a slice of heaven, cut out and stolen right from the sky. 

“I thought you’d never ask, doll face.” 

✞ all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[whaleofatjme1920]

In a Mirror Image (Eyeless Jack X F!Reader)

🌸 In a Mirror Image

[Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

[Warnings: blood, language, cheating (both physical but it's not like, in your face, and emotional)]

Part 1

The flowers that grow like weeds in your lungs bloom thicker and thicker every day. Your vision clouds with blue more often than not, and you can’t think about anything but the blossoms and blood that paint the bathroom with a hue you’re already much too used to. It’s a painful existence, and it’s getting worse. One of the most wretched parts? You’re deteriorating so fast that your vision no longer services you. You are blind, unrendered to see. You still choose to live in a delusion, and you are amongst the only who choose not to acknowledge it.

By now, everyone knows but only one other than you refuses to acknowledge it.

You hear Hoodie arguing with Jack more often than not. It seems the blond haired proxy is angry over what Jack has done to you and because he knows what Hanahaki does to those it takes root in.

“You’ll fucking kill her,” Hoodie seethes as he gets in Jack’s face for the fourth time this weekend. “Look at her-”

“I am!” Jack shot back, his arms crossing defensively over his chest. “Who are you to come in here and speculate on something that you’re not a part of?” He growls. Normally, Jack likes talking to Hoodie, but not when Hoodie’s on a mission to prove Jack a sinner.

“I wasn’t even aware you still had one,” Hoodie retorts through grit teeth. “I can’t believe you. Look at the flowers Ja-” and before he can continue tearing into Jack, he hears your bedroom door open.

While you still share the room with Jack, neither of you are in it at the same time. You’ve taken residence up on the living room couch with Kate and Jack more often than not stays with Leia. The room you share is usually empty, much like your heart.

“Hey there, buttercup,” Hoodie suddenly greets you as you tiredly walk into the kitchen where the two men had previously been in a standoff. “Did you sleep okay?” He asks, voice so much softer and gentler with you than what he had just been using.

You shake your head as you take a seat at the table. “I can’t sleep,” you say.

Hoodie’s brows furrow in sympathy before they knit in frustration when Jack sits next to you. He watches as Jack snakes his arm around you before he presses an empty kiss to the side of your head.

“No?” Jack says in a sickly saccharine tone. “I’ll see what I can do about that. Does that sound good to you?”

You nod slightly, the ghost of a smile on your lips. “That sounds good,” you murmur back.

“Anything for you,” he hums as he pulls you in closer to his side.

“You disgust me,” Hoodie hisses to Jack as he gets up and pushes in his chair roughly, making the table bounce. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Jack for a second as he leaves, roughly slamming the front door behind him.

“What was that about?” You ask, feigning innocence. You refuse to open your eyes to the situation you are in.

“He’s having a bad day,” Jack answers. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” he hums as he presses another kiss to the side of your head.

The butterflies in your stomach are dead, but the flowers blood evermore.

“You’re still sleeping out here?” Kate hums as she takes a seat next to you on the couch. She looks exhausted and she’s covered in blood. Her mask is cracked too.

“I guess,” you yawn as you shift slightly from your not so comfortable position. “How has your day been?” You ask as you reach for a glass of water only to see it’s not there.

“Let me,” Kate says as she gets up once more. She knows you’re getting worse. After getting you a bottle of water from the fridge, she comes back to your side. “I’ve had a busy day. Met with an independent named Nyein. They remind me of a big cat,” she finally answers as she opens the water bottle for you.

You take it and begin to slowly sip from it - it stops the flowers from blooming ever so slightly. Your airway opens just a little bit. “Do they now?”

Kate nods as she flips mindlessly through the channels. “They said they’re falling in love with a human. Bad business,” Kate winces, her dark eyes watching you carefully. “I hope they don’t…”

“It’s bad business,” you suddenly say as you feel petals fill your mouth. You cough slightly and the small little forget-me-nots fall into your lap, thankfully free of blood this time. You take one of the flowers into your fingertips and observe it gently. “I hope they’re okay.”

Kate puts her hand on your thigh, lightly squeezing before finally settling on the early evening news. “You wanna burn these blue fuckers?” She asks as the flowers in your lap remain stagnant save for the buds that unfurl at an alarmingly fast pace.

You feel the corners of your lips curl into a smile. “Yes.”

Morbid, your flowers have been springing up everywhere. They’ve infested the temporary house. So, you and Kate went around the place, plucking every single one before starting a bonfire in the backyard.

Toby, who considers himself a bit of a pyromaniac, was immediately summoned by the fire the two of you had cast in the backyard. He’d been out on a grocery run, and honestly, he had wanted to get out of the house.

The dynamics of the house had become uncomfortable to him. What with Leia and Jack sneaking off together and you coughing up a full greenhouse, he has been stressed. Toby can’t stand Jack and Hoodie arguing all the time as it reminds him of the life he tried to escape, and Masky can offer so much but ever since he renounced his love for Jay by force… It’s been hard. Toby knows it’s been hard for everyone involved.

He crosses through the house, sneers at Leia’s room, and then exits through the back to the scent of fire. He sees Kate’s arm around you as the fire blazes slightly blue.

“W-What are you g-gals up to?” He asks, coming to your other side so you remain in the middle.

“Burning stuff,” Kate nonchalantly replies. “You care to chuck anything in?”

Toby glances at you as you struggle to keep air in your lungs. “If I d-d-did, I’d be u-under c-charge for killing a-a-another under the O-Operator’s care,” he muses. He’s referring to Jack, of course. He takes in the scent of burning plant matter and blood and frowns when he remembers it’s yours. His hand reaches yours and squeezes gently.

You squeeze back.

Your experiences with Leia are lukewarm at best, and cold at worst. She’s something, she really is something. There’s moments when no one is in the temp house with you except for her alongside you, and those moments are tense, sharp, like a knife and burn colder than the depths of the sea.

The most memorable conversation you’ve ever had was the one that triggered a domino effect that would lead to a black hole in your chest.

“You’re still up?” Leia’s honeyed voice questions softly as she takes a seat across from you on the back porch at the glass table.

You find it more stifling inside so you choose to spend your time out. The weather is warm, afterall. The sun shines and fluffy clouds the size of whales swim overhead. You have a glass of pink lemonade made from a pouch Hoodie and Kate had picked up earlier. You find that the tang is enough to keep the flowers down.

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” You say in passing before you sip from the glass. You enjoy watching the rabbits in the backyard. They hop around without a care in the world.

She begins to thread her fingers through her long silver hair, braiding it. “I just think you should be resting,” she says. “You look so tired these days-”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Touched a nerve,” she sighs. “You know you’re getting worse, right?”

You shoot her a glare, but you know she’s right. You’ve actually been holding out surprisingly longer than most people with Hanahaki Disease. Most people succumb to it within a few weeks of coughing, but you’ve managed to hold out for damn near an entire year. That’s almost unheard of. You’ve been hacking up flowers, their stems, roots and blood ever since Leia came into your life.

Everyone tells you that you’re getting worse, but you should have been dead months ago.

“Stop it,” you growl.

“You’re killing yourself,” she continues. “You could just… Let it all go, y’know?” She hums as she continues to fishtail her silver strands. “Renounce your feelings for him and save yourself.”

You grip your glass and set it back down roughly on the table. “That is literally none of your concern,” you repeat, eyes narrowing at the blue eyed beauty across from you. “Acting like you care-”

“I do, though,” she cuts you off. “I know that the Slender Man has big plans for you, but with you wasting away like this… You’ll never live long enough to see them through.” She flashes you a look of concern, but you can tell it’s fake. It shines like pyrite.

“What, so you can take my place just like that?” You bite back. “You can’t even wait until I’m fucking dead?”

Leia giggles and you hate to admit that it sounds pretty. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Daddy always did say I got what I wanted.” Her eyes drift off and you’re able to see she’s no longer thinking about you, but someone who once loved her. She finishes the braid. “Happy six years to you and Jack. Give him all my regards, won’t you?” She stands up, eyes the rabbits feasting on the clover in the grass, before she plucks your half empty glass from in front of you.

“Leia-!”

“It’s not like you need it,” she chuckles.

“It’s a special day,” you said to Masky, a small smile on your face. “It’s our six year anniversary.” Your posture changes to attention as he closes the door softly behind him. He still smells like cigarettes, but it’s a pleasant scent you’ve found comfort in where others find it a nuisance.

Masky put a smile on his face but it didn't reach his eyes. “You need me to draw a portal or something for you?” He holds his arms open to you as you fall into them, part because you’re so weak and secondly because he knows you need the affection - even if he can’t feel it.

You feel light come to your eyes as you nod after leaving a note for Jack in your shared room on his nightstand.

‘Dear Jack, happy six years! I’d wait for you to get back, but I have a surprise for you at the field you gifted to me for our first anniversary. I await you with happiness. Love, R.’

Masky drew the portal in the living room, a mess of swirling cloud-like silvers and blacks before he laid eyes upon the place you once shared only with Jack. “It’s super pretty,” he says, dark eyes scanning over all the wildflowers. There’s weeds on the path, like no one has cared for it in a while. ‘How poetic,’ he thinks. ‘It’s an allegory for your decayed relationship with Jack.’

“No it’s not,” you giggle as you bring Masky down one of the weed and chicory covered paths to the gazebo. “But it’s special to me,” you hum as you take a seat.

Masky follows beside you. He doesn’t take a seat, mostly feeling it wrong to impose on a space that is Jack’s despite his respect for him falling so far from what it used to be, but takes in the scent of dying flowers all the same. It’s summer, and instead of the sun warming the soft petals, it’s burning them. When you cough up more flowers while waiting for the man who still holds your heart (and refuses to return it) you’re less than pleased to see that they blend in with the untamed mosaic.

“Are you still tired?” Masky asks softly as he lights up a cigarette. “You can rest, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

You glance over to Masky before you rest your head in your hands, wondering where your lover is. You listen to the wind as it blows through the leaves. You listen to Masky’s hum, and eventually, you fall asleep.

You wake back up sometime during the night in your bed and not in a position you normally sleep in. It looks like whoever delivered you back here was extra careful with handling you. You only wake up because Jack has accidentally turned on the light.

“Shit, my bad,” he apologizes, quickly plunging the room back into darkness. “Did I wake you?” He knows he did.

“No,” you lie. “I couldn’t sleep anyways.” That was the most rest you’ve had in months. “Where have you been?” You ask quietly, still choosing to remain buried in the sheets.

Jack slides into bed next to you and gets comfortable. He smells like perfume you don’t wear. Through the faint light of the hallway that peeks under your door, you can see he’s got dark marks on his neck and jaw. “Leia wanted to show me her childhood home. Place isn’t run by Zalgo anymore, so we took a trip out there.”

“Did you now?” You hum as you feel tears prick your eyes.

Jack can see you in the dark. His vision at night far surpasses a human’s. He just chooses not to acknowledge it. Jack knows that his relationship with you is gone, and that you’ve been coughing up flowers for the past year. He knows, and it hurts him. Hurts him deeply that he’s the one causing you such pain, but at the same time, he’s a coward. He chooses not to let you go cleanly because his relationship with Leia is so finite.

He knows she only wants him because at the time he was unattainable. Now that she has him, it is only a matter of time until she does to him what he’s done to you. He understands that fully, but he refuses to leave the safety net that is you because he is selfish. His feelings for you aren’t nonexistent, but it’s that kind of fondness one has after the deed has been done, a love based on past memory and sentiment rather than what will and can be. It has reached his threshold, and you both are too caught up in security rather than what is healthy.

“I did,” he says as his mind rushes a mile a minute. “What did you do today?”

You wonder if you should answer that honestly or not. Would he even care? “I stayed here today, nothing special.” You feel the flowers unfurling in your lungs.

Jack hums once more, his back now facing you as he slowly succumbs to sleep.

You met Masky in the bathroom again, hacking your lungs and more of those fucking flowers up into the bathrub and the sink. Hell, you even got some in the toilet. Your body is growing weaker and weaker by the day. The fact you’ve held out for a year is astronomical, but you know you’ll be being taken from it eventually. No one survives Hanahaki when their lover’s feelings aren’t returned. It either gets returned, or you lose them all entirely.

He almost lost you. You broke the mirror when your body went limp as the vines and flowers crawled out from your lungs, through your esophagus and out of your mouth. If it was an art installation piece, Masky might’ve thought it beautiful, but the fact you went cold and limp and the flowers were blooming at a rapid pace - one he thought he couldn’t keep up with.

Masky, despite not being able to really feel anything, panicked as he took you into his arms. Did he genuinely care for you? No, but he cared to whatever extent the surgery left him with. He fretted because you are under his direct care. He cared so deeply because he too had seen many good proxies and independents lost to it. He cared because a part of him remembered what it was like to have daisies and rhododendrons fill his lungs. Normally, you only have one type of flower to clutter your lungs. Science says “just because.” An old wives’ tale says “love truly lost.” In his case? Jay’s death. Nothing was the same after that.

Masky took no hesitation in scooping you up into his arms and running out of the house to the forest to be closer to his boss’s energy. The Operator could fix this should he will it. He didn’t care that the lights in the house went on from his concerned proxies - the ones who had been sick over what befell you since you came into their care. He didn’t dare let you go as he trampled through the brush in the dead of night, using only the moon.

“Sir!” He calls out frantically. “Sir! I need your help!” He can hear your heart get slower and slower.

And just like that, the devoted father came to his child’s cry.

“My child,” he greets, instantly swooping down to look at your pained, flowery visage. “Did I not tell you to handle this?” He chides softly as he takes you into his arms. The sound of static only grows louder and louder.

“I thought she could,” he says, his tone clearly apologetic. “Please, just… Just fix this for me.” He watches the Operator closely as the tall man holds you in his arms.

While you are not exactly his child directly, you are also still under his care. Leia did not lie that the Operator sees good things for you. Without any other words, the tall man is gone, giving you to gods know who to perform a surgery that should be considered the only humane way out.

He returns to the house where Hoodie, Kate and Toby eagerly awaited him, clamoring around him and pecking like hens wondering where you are. He says that you’re in the hands of a god.

You floated in the ether, your body a galaxy. You watched as your chest was torn open - looked like by the hands of an independent that had talons to rival an eagle.

‘There’s so much,’ she says, her mouth turning into a frown as she worked on carefully removing the clusters of flowers. ‘How is she not dead?’

The Slender Man continues to observe, not offering the doctor any words.

The spirals and swirls inside of you continue to swirl before the flowers get torn out, one by one. The roots that cling to your lungs are stubborn, but with every single one removed, the lights of a different universe go out. Snuffed. Lost. The cavity in your chest grows wider until it births a black hole.

‘How much longer?’ The Slender Man asks, watching as the independent calls in another to help her rid your body of weeds.

She shakes her head as she continues to root them out. They bloom under her touch. ‘I have no idea - she must’ve felt so strongly-’

‘They just keep coming up, Sir,’ the other interjects, her four eyes scanning you rapidly.

The black hole begins to suck up the stars and nebulas that comprise your system. It feasts on you, making every part of what made you you, disappear in its depths. It grows larger as it consumes you. It grows heavier. It grows more powerful.

‘We’re almost there,’ the taloned independent says, her wings fluttering softly to emphasize her point. ‘I’ve never seen it this bad before.’

‘Fix this,’ the Slender Man seethes, his patience wearing thin. He knows your body will not be able to handle this much longer.

The black hole reaches its mass, and slowly, it begins to consume you. It overtakes you, bathes you, and leaves nothing left when it has taken all that it can. Your body is empty. You are a shell. Glimpses of blue, grey and reddish brown flash in your mind’s eye and through the eye of the black hole, but you cannot place the feelings you used to associate with them. You remember, but you do not feel.

The last of the flowers are pulled. The taloned independent is exhausted, and her partner is just as tired. ‘Good fucking lord,’ she breathes out, exhausted from the late night gardening session. ‘In all my years I have never seen that awful disease take hold of an individual that bad,’ she notes. Her bird-like eyes watch over your open chest to make sure they’ve fully cleared it out.

A single forget-me-not sprouts, and the Slender Man is the one who plucks it. Just like that, the flowers, their roots, all evidence you’d ever had life inside of you, is gone. Withered and wilted away.

The black hole takes all that you have to offer, and you are back to consciousness, no longer floating, no longer a home to the vibrancy of the universe.

What came after was a bit of a blur. The Slender Man had brought you back to the safe house you had called your home for the past year surprised to see that some of his favored children were still away, waiting for you as the light of the sun rose over the grass. It was a new dawn.

“How is she?” Hoodie asked, immediately springing up.

“Fixed,” was all the Slender Man said, his gaze shifting from you to your group’s leader. “Masky, I’m entrusting you to watch over her as you have been through something similar.”

“Of course,” the dark eyed man says as he takes you gingerly into his arms. “I wouldn’t trust her with anyone else.”

“One last thing,” the tall man in a suit hums. “I am taking Eyeless Jack from this house. Leia will stay with him.”

“It’s probably for the best. We trust your judgment,” Masky replies.

The Slender Man’s head gently cups Masky’s cheek before he leaves them with the sound of static that dissipates as fast as it appeared.

You spent the first few days after your surgery under bed rest. The Slender Man had healed you but he still worried for the state of your lungs. You needed the rest, and you were pleased to have it. Other than that, you felt… nothing. You were numb. Fleeting feelings of happiness or thankfulness, maybe something melancholic would slip through but ultimately, you were nowhere near your old self.

Jack was not allowed anywhere near you. That was one of the first instructions given to him when the Slender Man had popped into his head. While he did not have an opinion on Jack’s unfaithful behavior, he was more displeased with the fact he’d kickstarted the disease in you. The Slender Man thought that if he started it in Leia, then perhaps everything would turn out alright.

So, he sent the two out with a different group - which mostly meant Jeff, someone the Slender Man knew detested behavior that Jack had committed.

It was not easy for Jack to share the same space with Jeff after word had gotten out about you.

“You’re my best friend,” Jeff had sighed one late afternoon, refusing to even acknowledge Leia in the room. “But that? That was fucked up.”

Jack hummed and kept his gaze on Leia, who looked at him with nothing short of adoration. “Sure.”

Jeff sighed once more and stood up. “You don’t feel an inch bad, do you?”

“No.”

“You’re a shitty guy but you’re an even shittier liar.” Jeff broke the door with how hard he’d slammed it on his way out.

Jack really wasn’t the same, that much was apparent. He’d slowly been becoming more withdrawn and quicker to agitation. Of course, he’d take it out on whoever was around to deal with it. Leia included - it just came in a different form. One in which she’d never complained. But when things were rough between them, things were rough.

Jeff could hardly stand the two most days, so when he’d sneak out, it was with his dog to come pay a visit with you. And he hated how dull you had become.

“Masky used to be a lot more personable,” Jeff would say. “Life of the party when we could get him out of his pseudo-philosophical bullshit. Then he hurled flowers and we knew something was wrong.” Jeff’s hand rubs your back gently as a sign of friendship.

“And then?”

“Then he got that stupid surgery and now he’s just existing. No further purpose, just existing because some pale guy says so for his benefit.” Jeff huffed and looked up at the setting sun.

You found your gaze following his.

“What you’re doing right now,” he began. “It’s no way to live.”

“Would you have rather I’d succumbed to it?” You asked, not adding any inflection to whether you’re happy or sad, hurt or even offended.

“In all honesty?” Jeff tore his eyes from the pink and blue sky. “Yeah. This,” he gestured to you. “This isn’t you.”

Everything you’re supposed to feel feels dampened. Instead, you nodded. “Note taken.”

Jeff frowned.

The first time Jack was able to see you after your surgery was nearing halfway to what would have been seven months. It’d been a rough time without him seeing you, mostly because the guilt had been devouring every humanity he had left. Nothing could fill the void.

Like the first time you had met him, it was an accident when you crossed paths once again. You had been clearing out a house one fine winter’s evening, doing what had been asked of you before you got the faintest scent of something familiar and something you once recognized as comforting. You furrow your brows, weapon at your hip as you slowly and quietly come down the stairs.

Your lips are pressed into a thin line as you peer into the living room. Snow falls outside the window.

“Reader?” A male voice asks, turning around from the hallway. “Is that you?”

You tilt your head slightly as you register the mask you’re looking at. Eyeless Jack, mostly just known as ‘EJ’ or ‘Jack’. You’ve never really spent any time with him though outside of little jobs, so you have no idea who this is or why he sounds so happy to see you.

“Uh, hi, EJ?” You say as you walk at a leisurely pace down the stairs.

Jack freezes momentarily as he comes to greet you in the living room. He’d almost forgotten that when the flowers are removed, so too are the memories alongside feelings.”It’s… It’s good to see you,” he says as he looks down at you, wondering if he should touch you or not.

“I guess it’s nice to see you too,” you say. “What are you doing in this area?” You inquire. You vaguely remember the Slender Man not wanting you two to be in the same area.

“Just out and about,” he answers as he scratches at the back of his neck. “Leia wanted to uh, hunt down some of her sisters - I - it doesn’t matter,” he suddenly finishes, feeling much too awkward to even look at you. He knows you don’t remember, but he certainly does. Looking at you… He has a fresh slate.

“That’s nice,” you say in a tone that’s clearly disinterested. You walk towards the living room windows and look into what is now a cold winter’s night. You can see the snow still falling. If you want to make it back to Masky before he gets worried, you’ll need to head out almost immediately. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Jack slowly comes to your side and puts his attention on you, watching as the snow continues to fall. “Yeah, the prettiest,” he says softly, desperately trying in vain to hold back on scooping you into his arms. There’s something scratching at the back of his throat.

You nod once again and zip up your coat. “They’re expecting me,” you say, gearing up to brave the snow.

“Do you need any-”

“No,” you cut him off. You’re not sure why it comes out so harshly, but you figure it must be a remnant of a memory you no longer have access to. “I can manage on my own.” You brush past him and open the front door, eyes momentarily clamping shut at how cold it is before you step onto the porch. The sound of the crunching snow is satisfying.

“Stay safe out there,” Jack says softly, not moving from his place as he continues to gaze out the window at the falling snow.

You turn your head briefly over your shoulder, “and you as well.”

Jack hears the door close and you walk off into the night, back to a group he was barred from. That tickling in the back of his throat grows more and more prevalent until he clears his throat. Feels like there’s something on his tongue. He coughs a few more times before holding his hands in front of his mouth, displeased to see the small blue petals he knows will bloom to full flowers in a time frame that is too long to be considered fair.

[thefanficmonster]

Kick Some Ghost Ass

”Until Dawn Gang x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Sex jokes (excuse my bad humor)

Genre: CRACK, Humor

Summary: It’s one thing when trouble finds this gang, but why don’t we take a look at what happens when they go actively looking for trouble. Needless to say, chaos ensues and no one is spared. Some are more affected than others, and some are dead-ass traumatized, but isn’t that just how life is in general?

Requested by my dearest ever - Until Dawn Anon. Hi lovely! I’ve missed writing your requests and I’m really happy to be back, creating another chaotic fic! I’m sorry it has taken me so long to post it but here it finally is - crazy as ever! I hope you enjoy it! Love you to Blackwood Pines and back baby ❤❤❤

I don’t know how I’ve found myself in this situation but I’m not complaining. If I get to do dumb crazy shenanigans with my crew, I’m ready for just about anything. Not to mention I’m no stranger to ghost hunting. I’m that kid that made DIY Ouija boards and took them to cemeteries with their terrified friends. You should’ve seen us leaving after capturing no ghostly activity - my friends relieved as fuck, and me pissed as fuck.

But today, I’m not expecting nor will I be accepting any disappointment. Especially not with Jess swearing on her Chanel purse that she wasn’t making things up when she said she had a haunted house she wanted us to visit. I must say, I appreciate this group’s enthusiasm when it comes to the paranormal. Never have I had someone who catches my vibe on the subject so well, let alone an entire gang all sharing the same opinion as me - that ghosts, demons and poltergeists are so fucking cool. Sure, Emily took a bit of convincing and Jess is not one to give a shit about the other world creatures invisible to the human eye, but something allegedly happened that changed her mind.

Her a-hundred-and-something-year-old great-grandmother passed away recently and though the death itself didn’t shake Jess up as much as it probably should’ve, the events that followed led to this moment right now - the eleven of us pooling out of two minivans that have pulled up to a terrifying looking house in a wooded are of the suburbs. Jess literally gathered us all on an ‘emergency meeting’ in the courtyard of our college just so she could explain the situation in detail - she doesn’t do well with explaining things in general, let alone when she’s hysterical - so we only understood what she was trying to say when she mentioned the word ‘ghost’. That’s when we all started listening more closely, with the exception of Emily, Beth and Sam but the latter two were intrigued despite trying yo hide it. You can only imagine how excited Josh, Chris and I were, Mike and Matt following a close second behind. Ash was a tiny bit more hesitant but Chris convinced her to give in. And just like that, a week later, here we are.

“I gotta ask, did your great-gran own a VHS player? Or a chest in the attic? Bonus points if there’s a creepy, child-sized doll in there.“ Josh asks as he yanks all the equipment he insisted we bring out of the trunk of the minivan.

“Quit fucking around, Josh! This is serious!“ Jess complains from the spot she’s standing in, shivering in the cold autumn breeze.

“Yeah, Josh! VHS players, creepy dolls, that’s all child’s play.“ I scold him as I pull on my jacket, wrapping it around me more tightly, “Shit gets serious when there’s a secret basement.“

“Y/N!“ Jess shrieks in exasperation. Honesty, how am I supposed to NOT bother her when doing the opposite is so much easier and brings more amusement? “You’re not helping!“

“Wasn’t trying to.“ I wink at her, driving her into a new level of fury that almost leads her to chuck her phone at me. If it weren’t such a prized possession of hers, I’m pretty sure she would’ve chucked it with the intention of knocking me dead. I’m lucky she has the aim of a drunk toddler that spun around fifteen times.

“Hey, quit pissing my girlfriend off, will ya?!“ Mike, who is basically halfway inside the trunk of the other van calls out to us.

I roll my eyes but choose to let it slide. However, someone else doesn’t. Emily does a dramatic turn on her heel, turning to face Mike, or at least the only part of him which is visible. You can imagine how hard it is arguing with an ass like THAT. I don’t know how Emily does it but oh well, I guess I do it too, in a way.

“So it’s girlfriend now, huh? No space between the words?“ Oh that smile she’s flashing him, it could make the Devil himself shiver. I find it kinda hot though - it means shit’s about to go down or hit the fan, either way, the rest of us will be entertained.

Mikey boy straightens up, gracing the rest of us by-standers with his dazzling features. Nah, I’m capping. I honestly think Mike is as attractive as I am patient - very little, almost not at all. It’s surprising how him and Jess are now apparently together since I always pegged her to be the superficial type.

“Got a problem with that, Em?“ He asks, eyebrow raising, head tilting to the side. Oh yeah, it’s on now. But, as someone who’s been quite excited to do some ghost hunting, and also as a representative of the peanut gallery formed of the rest of us who find it amusing and annoying, I feel the need to cut it short before it goes where it shouldn’t. I came to see some exorcist shit, not Keeping Up With The Bitter Exs.

“Jess, I sure hope your grandma is a blood-thirsty ghost cause I can think of at least two people I’d serve to her on a silver platter.“ I snatch the keys the blond has been jingling nervously between her fingers and jog up the stairs to the front door.

Ok I maybe overexaggerated the eeriness of the house. It sure wouldn’t sit right with you if you saw it around sunset or at night, especially not if it’s foggy, but a horror movie house it is most certainly isn’t. It’s pristine and well kept, not a single crack in the walls, the only reason it’s unsettling is because: 1) We’ve all seen a few too many horror movies; 2) There’s been reports of ‘ghostly activity’ - as far as Jess is to be trusted.

While I’m surfing through all the keys, checking each and every single one of them on the door because the real key is unmarked, I can’t help but overhear the conversation going on behind me on the porch.

“Can you believe we got all this in a single day and for a discount on top of all?! Whoever says Craigslist sucks isn’t doing it right.“ Chris’ enthusiasm over the deal him and Josh got on the ghost hunting equipment has been what’s keeping a wide grin on his face this whole time. Though I’m proud of my boys for not getting murdered by the Craigslist seller, I must say I hate that I lost the bet we had - I had to pay them each ten bucks if they didn’t get scammed/kidnapped/murdered and I’m now twenty bucks poorer. I’m not saying I value those twenty bucks more than my friends, though my broke ass needs all the bucks it has and all the dollar bills it could get, but Lord knows I hate losing.

“Yeah, and the guy was only mildly sketchy.“ Josh adds just as excitedly and proudly, “To be honest, Cochise and I were probably the scary looking ones in that parking lot.“

A look over my shoulder shows the twins, Sam, Matt and Ash giving the duo skeptical and somewhat disappointing looks and shakes of their heads. I’ll admit, the equipment is in very good condition and it’s the complete set for ghost-hunting, according to BuzzFeed at least. I’m impressed with the purchase - probably had something to do with how scary Chris and Josh actually look. The all-nighters we’ve all been pulling lately have taken a toll on them worst with the dark circles and bags under their hollow eyes, pale faces and brains turned to mush. I know I’d give them a discount to avoid them pulling out meat cleavers on me.

“That’s all fine and dandy guys, but do you know how to work any of this?“ Sam asks, hesitantly lifting the EMF reader and turning it in her hand, analyzing it with a curious gaze. 

Josh and Chris exchange a look before the former replies, “Just the cameras and voice recorder, the rest falls on them.” He points a finger at me and laughs, “Though they aren’t able to work something as simple as keys, they are more than qualified to be a ghostbuster.”

“You know, Josh, jokes on you, I can work keys! Jess, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be able to work well with organizing things, hence my problem with these keys.“ I hurl the bunch of keys connected my a scarlet keychain at Josh, “Lemme demonstrate my true skills.“ I hop down the flight of stone stairs and approach the pile of equipment the guys have created smack-dab in the middle of the house’s driveway. 

“Oh, I gotta see this!” Mr. Ex-Class-President all but runs over, frowning when we all turn to look at him just as I pick up the spirit box to show off how it works, “Oh that’s what you meant. So you aren’t taking your clothes off?“

Jess and I are alike in one thing - the need we feel to chuck objects at people who piss us off. “You’re girlfriend is, like, right behind you, Munroe. Have some decency!”

“I was gonna enjoy a show as well, but I’m guessing we won’t be getting one.“ The girlfriend in question replies, looking at me quizzically as though that’s gonna convince me into discarding my outfit.

“No, unless you’re a ghost.“ I point the device I’m holding at Mike, “But if your boyfriend here keeps acting up I might turn him into one.“

“That sounds kinda kinky.“ Beth’s comment surprises me. The wink she sends me even more so. “And I kinda like it.“

Ok, ok, ok, hold on. 

Flirting with Munroe is one thing, but Beth is a completely different story. I can be threatening Mike with a knife one moment and cracking sex jokes with him over cold beer the next. While Beth actually has the ability to get me flustered and blushing, and my close relationship with her brother doesn’t help. Mother fucker can just whack me upside the head every time he catches me fussing over my silly crush on his sister.

“Ew, you too! Keep it in your pants or at least get a room.“ Emily doesn’t miss a beat when it comes to being herself. She’s truly a garbage bin full of treasure.

“We’d do the latter if SOMEONE could get the door open.” I glare daggers at Josh who is making hopeless attempts at what I was doing earlier - unlocking that damn door.

“I’d be more than happy to come through for you ladies.“ Mike says, getting in a stance of a runner before a race, his body directly opposite the door.

Oh I can’t wait to see where this is going. I SHOULD RECORD IT.

“Mike, it’s still breaking and entering and it’s still against the law even if the person’s dead.“ Sam points out, entering her mother-like mode, ruining the fun and causing me to pout at her. She gives me a look of disappointment - one worse than I’ve ever seen on my parents - so I just shut my trap before she can also express said disappointment through words and have me feeling guilty for the rest of the day.

A loud crash suddenly echoes causing us to turn our heads to look for the source of the terrifyingly startling sound. One glance is all it takes to put our minds at ease and a second one is enough to provoke different reactions in all of us - the broken window telling the story of where Josh has disappeared.

“What did I just say about breaking and entering?!“ Sam shouts after him while the vast majority of us are cracking up like hyaenas. Jess is just gaping at the broken window next to the front door in disbelief. She obviously can’t decide whether to join in on the fun or serve as back-up to Sam. Josh did technically damage private property that’s partially hers, but if you ask me it serves her right for not marking her keys.

“Sorry, I was too busy breaking the window to hear that part of the conversation!“ Josh’s apologetic smile appears on the other side of glassless frame. I can’t tell if he’s genuinely sorry or holding back laughter but either way, he looks innocent enough for Sam to let him off the hook as long as he doesn’t cause any more trouble - in which case: tough luck. Chris, Josh and I are nothing if not troublemakers, especially when we’re together. Chris tones it down when Ash’s around, and the same goes for Josh with Sam while I’m simply problematic regardless of who’s watching. My chaos is untamable, it’s a blessing and a curse and I love it, even though it’s landed me in hot water more than once. It’s nice to be around people on the same wavelength - chaos resides within this group and not a single one of us can hide it.

“At least we have a way in now.“ Ash offers Josh a helping hand in this argument after she recovers from the overwhelming fit of laughter. “I hope the broken window doesn’t anger your gran, Jess.“

The blond snaps out of her trance briefly, “No, she was a very sweet lady, but damn is Josh creative!” She hurries to correct herself, “Destructively creative.”

I hurry to correct her once again, “Chaotically creative.”

“Guys, do you mind coming in? It’s very creepy standing here alone!“ Josh calls out to us, looking over his shoulder at the interior of the house, “I’m expecting to be snatched and dragged to that secret basement we mentioned.“

“Mention it one more time and I swear to God-!“ Jess screams, fists tightened.

Before her angry wrath could crash atop us, we all make our way into the house through the broken window, carefully avoiding the shards of glass strewn about. One step inside and we’re met with the upmost of horror clichés - a drop in temperature. We’re all wearing thick hoodies because the weather outside is chilly in and of itself, but said hoodies aren’t as efficient at holding the house’s cold at bay and away from out skin.

Chris and Matt make their way in last, carrying the equipment consisting of three cameras, flashlights for everyone, an EMF reader, a spirit voice box, a voice recorder and a motion detector. I help them hand a light to each group member as well as a ghost-hunting device before we venture onward.

“If I were your grandma’s ghost, I’d be ten times more pissed about that window. It looks to me like that lady payed a lot of attention to keeping things in order.“ Matt comments while he examines the expensive looking painting hanging in the hallway.

I hear Emily scoff, “Unlike some.” but the remark is said so quickly and quietly I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who heard it.

Jess laughs, “She did like things in order, but she was never as strict as you might think. As I said, she was very sweet.“

“So do you just not take after her at all or were you adopted?“ Emily’s remarks are no longer a mumbled jumble of words, “No, nevermind, of course you’re not adopted. Your parents are smart people, they wouldn’t have chosen you if they had the chance.“

Jess laughs again, much more menacingly this time, causing me to exchange a look with Hannah who’s walking beside me. “Twenty bucks says one of them isn’t making it out of here.” It’s just a matter of time, to be honest. If not the lodge, or any party we’ve ever attended as a group, this haunted house is the perfect opportunity for a murder. We could even argue it was a ghost.

Luckily, the two cats clawing at each other’s throats don’t overhear, “No, my parents aren’t stupid, but your boyfriend clearly is. He chooses to date you! Or are you holding him captive or something.“

Ok that’s enough. I can tolerate a lot of things, but people calling one of my best friends stupid is not something I’m about to put up with, “How dare you call one of my hoes stupid?” I sneer at Jess, eyes narrowing.

“I thought I was your hoe too!“ She fights back, looking almost offended.

“Even more reason you shouldn’t have called him that! I don’t tolerate my hoes not respecting each other.“ 

I don’t get to see where this argument goes because Ashley’s shriek echoes throughout the hallway, stealing mine as well as the attention of everyone else. 

“There’s a ghost in here!“ Making it to the doorway of the room she’s in first, I peak my head inside and see the EMF reader she’s holding going nuts as if it’s detected something.

“Don’t worry, Ash, there’s a dead cactus here. That’s not the ghost we’re looking for, is it?“ Chris, my amazingly bright friend says, quirking an eyebrow suggesting that remark was nothing short of dead-ass serious.

“Chris, darling, that’s not how it works. Cactuses are plants.“ I point out as sweetly as I can as to mask my laughter.

“Don’t the same ghostly rules apply?“ The genuine look of confusion he gives me almost makes me lose it.

“Ok children, leave the room, we need to set up a motion detector to be sure.“ Beth says with a tone that suggests she’s more than over our insanity. Jeez, count on her and Sam to start parenting us through our chaos. They are of high authority, must admit - one genuinely feels bad if they don’t comply to whatever these two girls demand.

We all pile out in the hallway while the twins set up this interesting motion detector with green dots. I don’t know what Jess’ granny looked like, but I bet that even the most unattractive of people would look hella good with this lighting. Thankfully the room is dark enough with the shutters closed and the curtains drawn, allowing the dots to be perfectly visible.

We stare at the minimalistic room littered with fluorescent green dots on every surface for maybe a minute or two but not much happens to the disappointment to some and relief to others. However, as if not wanting to let us down, the ghost makes a shy appearance if the shift of the green dots is anything to go by.

“Oh shit, is that a ghost?“ Chris whispers, sounding as amazed as I feel in this moment.

“It better be.“ I mutter in response, refusing to blink and risk missing anything important.

The sudden presence of the obnoxious noise of the spirit voice box makes us all jump. As I turn my head to glare at whoever’s using it, Josh speaks up. “Are you an attractive ghost?”

“Josh, that’s my great-grandmother, you ass!“ Jess barks with disgust in her voice.

In the meantime, I catch glimpse of Mike rolling up his sleeves. Oh shit, this ain’t good.

“I’ve been waiting for this!“ He shouts victoriously, cracking his knuckles.

Knowing this won’t end well, the first thing I do is snatch the camera from Chris’ hands and turn it on.

“Um, Mike, what do you mean?“ Sam’s back to being concerned, turning to the rest of us when Mike doesn’t give her a response, “What’s he gonna do?“

“Fight it.“ I answer as though it’s the most normal thing to ever have been done, “Or, ash he calls it - kick some ghost ass.“

“A freaking ghost?! He’s gonna try to tussle with something he can’t see?“ I can’t tell if Matt’s tone is disbelief, amusement or disappointment, but I believe he isn’t about to try and stop or dear ex-president in his pursuit and that’s all that matters. I ain’t about to let someone stop whatever’s about to go down from going down.

“That’s still my great-grandmother, you dumbass!“ Jess shrieks with something alike terror.

“Don’t worry Jess, I’m sure she’ll go easy on him.“ I say in an attempt to reassure her but I can’t even be bothered really, I’m too laser-focused on the circus that’s about to take place in front of me.

Mike, as if encouraged by my words, charges into the room. Much to his dismay, before he could even reach the ghost, he’s met with a much more vigorous enemy - the carpet. The rascal trips him up and Mr. Munroe falls flat on his face.

The group stays silent, looking at the glorious aftermath of the glorious fall. Told ya these lights could make everything fabulous. Must say, it’s truly an honor for me to have been able to catch all that on tape.

“10/10, would ghost-hunt with Mikey Munroe again.“

[sexyshakespeare]

Kurodai Day 5: Ass-assination

[Prompt: Locked in]  -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kuroo was woken up by the loud clangs of the cell door. What now. Jesus, can’t a guy get some shut-eye in here. Well, he should’ve thought about that before embezzling from the JVA. At least that’s the voice in his head said, for the first time that day, and not for the last. It had been 5 months in here already, and he was slowly settling into a routine. It was bad, but not quite that bad. He tried to keep his head low, not say much to anybody, mind his own business. He’d manage to keep out of trouble for months now. The only exception being that time he fought that fucker for getting his chocolate confiscated by blowing the cook or whatever he did to make it happen. Fuck that guy and his greasy hair, fork-tongued motherfucker.  

Kuroo sat up in his bunk, wondering who his new inmate was. Broad shoulders, brown hair, and ripped. Shit, he better not get on his bad side huh. He watched him quietly from his side of the cell, waited for the last pat down from the guard- who nodded towards Kuroo, handed him his cigarettes, and headed out, locking the door in place. The man sat down on his bunk. He looked like he’d lost a lot of sleep lately. Tetsurou looked him up and down, sizing him up for his crime. Most likely battery, maybe arson. He looked deadly enough to do it. Or maybe he was just caught at the wrong place at the wrong time- like him. A rich person’s worst nightmare- Kuroo liked to believe he wasn’t a criminal, just a businessman. That was probably why his sentence was still as long as it was. There was absolutely no remorse behind his sweet smiles and promises to live a good, honest life when he was out of here. Fuck that. He wanted that villa in the Caribbean. “What are you in for” Kuroo directed the question at the other man. The mysterious man built like a goddamn grizzly, looked him straight in the face, the look of a killer in his dark eyes. “This ass-“ . .

.

Tetsurou stared at him for a good minute watching him as he laid back in his bed, folded his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. Alright. Alright, that’s how he was going to be?  Being in-mates and everything, hey, he’d hoped they could’ve been friends. Fine, fucker didn’t want to share? Fine, he’d be smoking this entire pack of cigs by himself, he thought to himself and laid back on his bed as well.

Weeks went by the same way as they always had- and rookie here didn’t need much help around the place. Funny. It was like.. he’d been to prison before, or at the very least, knew how they worked inside-out. Kuroo kept a close eye on him as he ate at his table with his regular group. It was purely a protective group he hung around, they weren’t exactly friends- definitely not anyone he’d keep in contact with once he was out of here. In fact, he was hoping to ditch his name altogether if he did get out of here. Big goals, big dreams. Before long, he’d learnt his name- since he hadn’t offered it on his own. He was lucky he was such good eye candy, and by default maybe had a soft spot in Kuroo’s generous heart. He even saved him some chocolate one time- offering it to him in the cell. “Don’t like chocolate” Kuroo’s eye had twitched when he said it, the way he said it. But the time he heard his name- was when they were receiving mail. Kuroo never got mail- his friends were ashamed to be associated with him. His dad had disowned him altogether. Well, Kenma did come visit him last month- telling him he’s done waiting and he’s moving on with his life. Which meant, of course, that he was finally going to admit to sleeping with Hinata behind his back. Kuroo couldn’t have cared less by then, he’d let him go a long time ago. Daichi. Sawamura Daichi was his name. And it was called out every week, sure enough- there was a care package of sorts, from somebody, that came through every week. “Daichi..”, he ventured one night when he was in bed. The man grunted in response, signalling that he hadn’t slept yet. “You really got into prison cause of that ass?” Not a moment’s hesitation, or any sign of his gruff, sleep ridden voice wavering as he said, “Definitely” And that was that, the days following that night, Kuroo was off at lunch time telling the story of how Sawamura Daichi got his ass thrown in prison- quite literally, for it being a goddamn menace. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday passed- and the rumors were flying- Did you hear? Sawamura smuggled coke into the country in his ass for months before getting caught- No no- Sawamura was the personal security guard for the crown prince of Saudi Arabia, who committed crimes against his country by allegedly tapping that ass, then flat out handing him the royal throne in marriage. Come Thursday and Daichi had finally caught on with what was happening. He walked up to Kuroo’s table where he was animatedly explaining the cause of his demise to his companions- and everyone hushed. Almost instantly looking a little pale when they saw the bearish man walk up behind Kuroo, who might easily lose a fist fight against him. Tetsurou stopped talking then- turning around to see the man, staring down at him. Then without another word, he put his tray down on the table next to him and sat down heavily. He nodded at Kuroo, then began eating his rice quietly. “Go on- tell them how it really happened-“, he said in a deep voice that would bring chills to anyone who heard it. The guys looked spooked, and Kuroo- well, he got less chills, more thrills. And he was happy to oblige.   With a little smirk on his face, he turned back to the table and continued, unfazed, “Sawamura was a security guard at the governor’s last speech- the one he died at-“ “Yeah, didn’t he get shot?” “Nah nah man- they cover all that shit up in the papers-“, Kuroo waved his hand at the guy, “Yeah the media guys getting their cocks sucked by the governor’s PR team to cover it up-“, Daichi answered without skipping a beat, nodding seriously as he slurps up his gravy like a hungry beast. Kuroo nodded, his hands coming into action as he hunched over the table conspiratorially, “Yeah so, he was head of security right- and the governor knew his face, he’d been in town for a while right-“ The silence around this table now. Kuroo felt like a star, his story was reaching hundreds- he was making history right now. “Daichi here, bless him, he bends over right- and what, you were going commando that day you said?”, a nod his way as Tetsurou feigned asking for confirmation. “Yep yeah- hot day, May’s just fuckin murder-“ “Yeah so my guy turns from the podium for a second to check if his deputy had the perimeter secure- he bends over to talk to the guy standing down the stairs- and his, will you believe it- his pants rip” At this point Kuroo gives a grin- not too big a grin, just a shrug of his shoulders like, ‘hey it happens’. “His pants rip- and he ends up mooning the governor- who was, looking DIRECTLY at him when he was giving his speech-“ Daichi smirks at this point, agreeing in full. “And the governor.. trips- over the wires on his podium- and falls-“, Kuroo’s strong fist smacks hard into his palm, “Head-first into the concrete 3 feet below-“ At this point, the entire table was staring hard at the two men- waiting for the punchline to this joke, waiting for a crack of laughter, a smile- a flash of tooth. They got nothing. Kuroo shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head at his tray and biting on his bread. “Damn tragedy- wrong place, wrong time, man..”, he finished in a low voice. Sawamura glared at them, daring them, any one of them to laugh. Not a soul dared. And then the man finished his meal, smacking his lips, slurping up the rest of his gravy and scarfing down his fish. And with that, the duo of Kuroo and Sawamura exited the scene, making it back to their cell in one piece. Once inside their cell- they exchanged one look, and were falling all over the floor, Daichi clutching at his stomach, Kuroo pounding the floor with his fist as they laughed their hearts out. “My ASS IS MAKING ROUNDS BABY” “FUCK YEAH IT’S MAKING ROUNDS- YOU SEEN THAT THING? YOU PACKING BACK THERE MY MAN” Hi-fives were exchanged- the two men slapping each other’s backs as loud as thunder- till they heard a loud yell from their floor guard, and tried to choke back their laughter, giggling like a couple of schoolboys as they watched each other. Each one with some wonder in their eyes as they did. “Man.. you’re alright-“, Kuroo said with a big grin thrown his way. “You’re.. brilliant- did your mouth get you into prison?”, Daichi leaned back on his bedframe, stretching his legs out in front of him as he asked. “You could say that-“ “Bet it could get us out of prison too-“ “I’m not blowing any guards again man-“ “..that’s not what I.. again..?” Kuroo took his pack of cigarettes out from under his blanket- waving them at him like it should’ve been obvious. “..you a lawyer?”, Daichi asked now. He chuckled at him, his body vibrating as he lit his cigarette with the lighter he would have to chuck down the toilet when they checked the cell this weekend. “You know, I could’ve made a great lawyer.. made more money like that too probably-“, he shrugged his shoulders, taking a long drag. “So- did you?”, Tetsurou looked back at him with teasing eyes, a smile on his face, “Did I what-“, he answered, his face was considerably softer on him now. He had a handsome face, especially when he smiled. Kuroo reckoned he’d like to see more of that over the next few months. “Get in here for your ass-“, he said as he stretched his arms above and behind his head, a little too suggestive a look on his face. He fully expected Daichi to close up again, turn a cheek- or maybe give him a hard punch to his exposed ribs. But instead, Sawamura looked him in the eye, a growing smirk of his own on his lips, “Why don’t you find out..”

[smoochi-dazai]

✿ “ Perfect Two ” ✿

—> Bungo Stray Dogs, Nakahara Chūya | reader / @soukokuwu​​

—> Sweet | Gift / Songfic

—> Description | It’s a surprise. Love you Rachel <3 feel better and remember to smile honey.

Note: I’m sorry if it’s bad, it’s really late and I didn’t have much energy to begin with. I just really wanted to make you smile today, you deserve so much. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but Chū and I are here for you. It’s pretty rushed sadly... I hope it’s tolerable still atleast. Ngl I feel sorta sick at the moment, but when there’s a friend in need- you are my priority. Probably a lot of mistakes too. 😭 it’s almost 4am-

Words 2.5

When you first met, the last scenario to play in Chūya’s mind was for you to be standing in front of him with a beautiful white gown. Those adoring eyes of yours, leaking any emotions you tried to conceal in your heart— the same heart you’ve given to him since your first exchange of smiles.

But here he was, getting dressed in a expensive tuxedo, preparing to await for his beloved future wife in the wedding room.

Imagining you in a gorgeous wedding dress had him shiver in anticipation, trying to calm down his flustered heart.

You can be the peanut butter to my jelly

You can be the butterflies I feel in my belly

You can be the captain

And I can be your first mate

You can be the chills that I feel on our first date

“ Let go of me, Chūya! ” You growled, beginning to whine as Chūya reached over you for his wine glass which you rudely snatched from his grasp while his back had been turned. “ You’re heavy as hell, fuck off before I make you regret it! ” The frustration in your tone seemed to increase rapidly, trying to convince yourself to be genuinely angered with the hot headed boy leaning against you. He practically had you pinned on the couch while you held his wine glass in an outstretched arm. Chūya’s shorter arms unable to reach for it while cursing at you under his breath, attempting to keep himself composed for you. He never enjoyed yelling at women, but it was so incredibly hard with your proud smirk forming before his eyes.

“ Until you return what you fucking stole, I refuse. Now hand it over ” Chūya’s voice was rather composed aside from the curses, until you still refuse to budge. Losing all rational thoughts, he applied more of his weight ontop of your body, his lips grazed against your ear while muttering in an aggravated tone. “ I’d like to see you try and threaten me again, it won’t be pretty in a minute. Now hand over my wine so I don’t have to do something damn rash... ”

“ As if! You’re always rash, you don’t scare me Chūya.” You snicker, unfazed by his clear threat.

It was true, nothing he did was threatening to you.

He loved you so much, and that was his first date with you. Together you drank the night away, holding each other on the couch. He planned to go out to a restaurant but the weather had other plans. Drops of rain echoed in the room all night, adding to the atmosphere.

You can be the hero

And I can be your sidekick

“ Chuya, what happened?” You gasp at the sight of him outside in the rain, returning home from yet another Mafia business trip. “ Are you okay? ” Your concerned voice echoes throughout the darkened skies, observing your injured boyfriend.

“ I’ll be fine, just ran into a couple morons who really pissed me off. Fuckers were stronger then they look— huh? ” As he began to speak, you were already dragging him inside of the house. Running throughout the home in search of medical aid, he couldn’t help but smile. Watching you stumble over your own feet as you arrived back in front of him, a small chuckle escaped his throat. Catching your attention, you kneel down to tend to all his cuts and bruises, allowing your chin to lift a bit and stare at him for a moment in confusion.

You were always waiting at home, welcoming him with open arms. An uncontrolled warmth lit a flame in his heart, each and every time you’d aid him with any issues that would come up.

He loved you so much.

“ Take me with you next time, even if I’m not as flashy and powerful like you. I can’t stand you arriving home injured again. ” you mutter weakly against his skin, leaving small kisses on each bruise.

You can be the tear That I cry if we ever split

“ Why don’t you ever use your head, Chūya?! ” You shout will a pout by his grave mistake in eating the last of your food, this was your first argument. Silly really, it was all just a misunderstanding. Tears threatening to fall dramatically from your eyes, the puppy look was sickeningly cute to Chuya.

“ Hah?! How was I supposed to know that it was yours!? ” Chūya was incredibly frustrated, arguing with you over eating leftovers from the other day.

Even while you were angered, both of you were incredibly fond of the other.

You can be the rain from the cloud when it's stormin'

Or u can be the sun when it shines in the mornin'

Waking up at your side was always Chūya’s desire after your returned romantic feelings for one another.

“ Wake up, you’ll be late for a meeting again if you continue to cling on me like this— Chū? ” you desperately try to pry the fatigued red heads arms off your waist. His face nuzzled into your chest while keeping a firm grasp on your figure.

“ Hell to the meeting, I need you right now. ” Chūya grumbled, attempting to rest again peacefully without you nagging him about work he didn’t want to think about so early in the morning.

“ Come on Chū... please? I don’t want you to be late because of me. ”

Don't know if I could ever be without you

'Cause boy you complete me

And in time I know that we'll both see That we're all we need

Exchanging smiles, laughs and happiness felt like pure bliss. Hand in hand, you both walk out in public together- enjoying the cool breeze of a beautiful autumn damn.

“ Keep your head down. ” Chuya suddenly said, while you simply tilted your head in confusion. As he accepted the fact you wouldn’t listen to his direct order, suddenly he lifted his hat off his head and shoved it over your face. Blinding you temporarily-

“ Wha-“ man you were confused, receiving no response was rather frustrated too. Lifting the hat off, you glare at him. Softening when you see a couple other men across the street who you could only assume wouldnt be too fond of chuya being away from work for a date with you. He was only hiding you for your own safety—

Thanking him with a peck on the cheek was plenty for him to begin smiling again. A small blush flushed on his cheeks.

'Cause you're the apple to my pie

You're the straw to my berry

You're the smoke to my high

And you're the one I wanna marry

He loved you so goddamn much, and there you are. A blush adorned your cheeks as you stare at your feet shyly, walking down the isle for your wedding. Meeting his eyes as you lift your head. Both parties felt butterflies flap their wings in their stomachs.

Standing so vulnerably infront of him, all he could imagine was your future together. He was really marrying you here and now, it’s settled.

'Cause you're the one for me (for me)

And I'm the one for you (for you)

You take the both of us (of us)

And we're the perfect two

Did he deserve something so beautiful? An angel dating a Mafia executive was odd, but he accepted it. The thought rarely crossed his mind, to distracted by your utter beauty.

You were really his, and his alone.

Preparing his vows, your Chū complimented you smoothly before exchanging a loving, warm hearted look. His eyes were so warm and endearing, your heart began to melt.

We're the perfect two

We're the perfect two

Baby me and you

We're the perfect two

You were perfect for him, as he was perfect for you. The missing piece of the puzzle finally joined.

You can be the prince and I can be your princess

“ Why the hell did I agree to wear this. ” Chūya glared at himself in the mirror, a tiara placed on his instead of his typical hat. The same hat that you held over your own head happily, laughing at your cute prince in the shoes of a princess.

“ awe, stop complaining. You’re so cute, Chū~ “ Oh how he despises your teasing, growling as he rips off the tiara and chucks it to the side.

He looked ridiculous, wearing a cute frilly dress after losing a bet with you. Now he was forced to be a princess for his day off work, he’d complain more but atleast he could hear your cute laugh.

You can be the sweet tooth I can be the dentist

You can be the shoes and I can be the laces

You can be the heart that I spill on the pages

“ I bought something for you, I hope it’s to your tastes.” Chuya’s chilled voice meets your ears as he enters you home, a sudden smell of freshly made pastries hit your nose. Running over to greet him and the awaited snacks-

“ Is this from the bakery across town?! Chu!! You didn’t have to do this” you freaked out, wanting to repay him somehow. “ how much was it? I’ll get the money for you right now. ”

“ Not telling.”

“Why??”

“ I bought it of my own accord, a gift for my beautiful girlfriend. Accept it or I swear I’ll force you to eat it anyway. ”

Groaning, you were finally convinced to accept the gift. Opening the box he held onto, there was a bunch of little donuts freshly cake. They were decorated with tiny hearts sprinkled on them.

Taking the box, you set it aside. Whipping around, you immediately grasp onto his face— pulling the shorter male into a passionate kiss as thanks.

You can be the vodka and I can be the chaser

You can be the pencil and I can be the paper

You can be as cold as the winter weather

But I don't care as long as were together

“ You are covered in goosebumps, here- take my coat. ”

Before you could even refuse Chuyas offer, you felt a larger coat be thrown over your head. Smiling in the warmth, you can’t help but snuggle in the material of your boyfriends coat.

It was a snowy day out, sending chills throughout your body. The coat alone didn’t appear to work, so the normally hot headed boy wraps an arm around your waist, pulling your frame closer to his. Radiating heat, you can’t help but melt against him. A pleasant sigh escaped your cold lips

Don't know if I could ever be

Without you 'cause boy you complete me

And in time I know that we'll both see

That we're all we need

“ I love you. ” just those three words alone, were enough to tie chuyas heartstrings around your finger.

“ I love you too, Sweetheart. “ He muttered back, feeling as if he could faint in any moment.

'Cause you're the apple to my pie

You're the straw to my berry

You're the smoke to my high

And you're the one I wanna marry

Those same words never once lost their meaning, after your vows- both you and chuya leaned closer to each other.

“ I love you.” You both whisper in unison.

'Cause your the one for me (for me)

And I'm the one for you (for you)

You take the both of us (of us)

And we're the perfect two

A timid smile was exchanged before chuya pulled you into a kiss, everyone began to cheer. Tearing up as they sat up and clap.

You regan wrapping your warms around his neck, resting on his shoulders while a hand found its way in his hair. Tugging it gently as you feel the kiss becoming much more intimate, deeper and to say in in simple terms- hot. At the same time, his hands grip your hips firmly.

We're the perfect two

We're the perfect two

Baby me and you

We're the perfect two

...

God he loved you.

...

You know that I'll never doubt ya

And you know that I think about ya

And you know I can't live without ya

Marrying someone was always a tough decision, it was a lifelong dedication that may break. But you refused to let that happen with your beloved- even as a hot head, this bb would kiss every part of your body to let you understand how much he adores you.

Never once did Chūya have doubts for marrying you, he wanted this so badly it hurt. It was a dangerous game, to marry you even during his work at the mafia- but they all loved you. Mori and Elise insisted on arriving at the marriage to congratulate you.

I love the way that you smile

And maybe in just a while

I can see me walk down the aisle

“ Do you realize how hot you are? “ You randomly say out loud, not realizing your thoughts were brought to the real world.

“ Hah?” Chuya stared at you in utter shock. Not quite understanding if he heard you right.

“ I asked if you realize how Hot-headed you are, W-Why are you looking at me like that? “ you attempt to cover up your mistake, blushing bright red while turning your head away. Adverting you gaze from his to the wall-

Ah, the memories of your foolish coverups.

'Cause you're the apple to my pie

You're the straw to my berry

You're the smoke to my high

And you're the one I wanna marry

Pulling away from your passionate kiss, your eyes remain shut even after the connection. Chuya takes notice of this, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead to catch your attention. Allowing you to meet eye to eyes once again—

'Cause your the one for me (for me)

And I'm the one for you (for u)

You take the both of us (of us)

And were the perfect two

The ring officially will be stuck to your finger for eternity, glittering beneath the moonlight as you lift a hand to the sky. Allowing your head to fall against Chūyas shoulder. Both of you sat comfortably at the doorstep of your home— hours after you became officially husband and wife. Absolutely carefree, you guys ignored the rest of the world for just this moment.

An arm was strapped around your waist, securing you from any dangers of the night. Chuya refuses to let you frown so long as he’s there at your side, he loves that smile of yours. Planting a gentle kiss on your head.

Were the perfect two

Were the perfect two

Baby me and you

We're the perfect two(yeah, yeah)

“ I love you. ”

“ I love you more.”

“ You sure about that?”

“Are you really going fight me on this?”

“Yes.”

Oh how you two haven’t changed.

~Fin~

[yourlocalslasher]

Dawn - Bo Sinclair

More self insert stuff because I can’t control myself. I had this dream last night that I went hunting Boseph Sin-dum dum and it was really sweet so I’m gonna write a short fic and yOU’RE GONNA DEAL WITH IT. And also I’ll keep the hunting terms down to a minimum since they can be confusing ;-;

“Alright now, I’m gonna unpack my shit an’ you follow my lead, sound good?” You nodded to Bo, closing the car door before pulling your hat down.

He’d brought you to a nice woody area to start off deer season, waking you up at the crack of dawn to get ready. You’d gotten to down one cup of coffee, and yet you still felt extremely tired.

It was freezing cold outside, the sun not even up yet. You shivered beneath your camo attire, shuffling over to Bo with your shotgun. He made his way deeper into the trees, going to get in farther before he settled down.

You kept following him, leaves crackling under your feet as you did. Hearing something scamper by, you rushed to stand right by his side. Bo went on walking, smiling to himself when he felt your hand fumble to hold his.

He dragged his thumb over your hand, attempting to warm it maybe even a little. You’d pressed your body close to his, continuing to shuffle into the darkness. Bo had a flashlight in his empty hand, the limbs on the ground casting frightening shadows.

His shotgun was slung over his shoulder with a strap, which he took off when he found a quiet place to sit. Of course you did the same, setting your own gun down at your side.

Bo was setting up, huffing to himself while he bitched about the cold. You were technically already ready, your gun in your lap with your back against a tree. Bo was sitting right next to you, adjusting his hat.

You were a little more awake now, a little more conscious of your surroundings. The sun was going to be up soon, the sound of crickets being replaced with ones of birds singing.

He leaned towards you, smearing some black and green greasepaint on his face. “An’ now we wait.” It was barely even a whisper.

This was your least favorite part of hunting. Waiting for an hour, if not more, just to maybe get one kill. Your feet had almost frozen to the point of being numb, your fingertips doing the same. Sometimes you really couldn’t believe you were in Louisiana.

Everything had gone silent now, deathly silent. Bo had turned down the flashlight, leaving just enough light for the both of you to be able to see in front of you.

Seriously, you half expected Jason Voorhees to come running through the forest with his infamous machete. The atmosphere was eerie, that’s when you recalled that you hadn’t been to this part of the woods before.

More time passed, and you’d drifted back into your sleepy state. Now you could clearly see a faint yellow-ish orange aura past the trees. There still wasn’t much noise, but it had gotten a bit warmer.

You turned to look at Bo, giggling softly to yourself once you saw he’d passed out. Bo had such an innocent sleeping face, it was cute. You’d never know he was one of the toughest guys in Louisiana if you judged him by it.

His mouth was hanging open slightly, making very little noise at all. The temptation was strong, you just wanted to smash your lips onto his. But you knew that would make the leaves crackle, waking him up only to be pissed that you might’ve scared off nearby animals. So you kept to yourself.

5 more minutes went by, and that’s when you finally heard something. Some leaves in front of you crunched, and your head jolted up. You quickly picked up your gun, nudging Bo with your elbow.

“Hm-?” He blinked a few times before turning to you. “Shh...” Hushing him, you nodded towards the deer that peered out from behind a tree.

Bo finally understood, hurrying to get his gun back in place before the deer wandered off or got spooked. You got so caught up in watching him, you’d set your own gun down.

He raised it, using every ounce of energy he currently had to focus on his target. With a bang, the deer dropped to the ground. You remained silent, waiting for Bo’s signal.

“I hit’a vital organ I’m sure. ‘S fine c’mon.” He raised his voice now that the animal was down, standing up to walk to it. Bo kicked it with his boot, making sure the animal was done for indeed.

You decided to stand, walking to the deer corpse. Bo bent over, looking it over. “It’sa beauty ain’t it?” He seemed so happy with himself. You smiled, happy that he was happy. “Damn sure is.” 

Then you looked at your watch, hesitant to end the fun but you knew he wanted to be up in Ambrose before Vincent and Lester got up. “Shit- its almost 8:30 Bo we gotta go-” You bit on your lip while you awaited his response.

Bo sighed long and hard before looking back to you. “Help me carry this fucker back to the truck, an’ lets head on back home.” You instantly bent over, crunching leaves under your boots.

Once you grabbed one end and Bo had the other, you started to head back to the truck. He chucked it into the back, shaking the whole truck. Bo’d gone around to his side of the truck, and you’d come around the front to meet him.

The greasepaint smeared onto your face, your lips curling. A surprise kiss, one of Bo’s favorites. His hands found a way to the sides of your face, and you pressed harder. When you both ran out of air, he pulled back and gave you a quick forehead kiss.

“Mm, thanks darlin’.”

[kayteewritessteve]

Beautifully Unfinished - 7/8

Description: One foolish outburst, one moment of weakness at the worst possible time, and everything goes up in smoke. Who knew finally voicing your true, deep-rooted feelings, would lead to the complete destruction of your most cherished friendship?

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 3,130 ish.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG.

Warnings: Curse words. Lots of angst. But if you’ve read my stories before, then you know how this will end.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

The Beginning of The End.

You pace the length of your living room, hands clenched in your hair. Your best friend—the love of your life—gets married in 7 days. 7 fucking days. And you are absolutely beside yourself right now. You can’t sleep, you can’t eat, fuck, you can barely even think. Everything in you is begging you to do something. Anything.

But you can’t. You can’t allow your foolish heart to say a damn thing. Who are you to dump all of this shit on an unsuspecting person? Who are you, that you can put your own feelings before others. Before your very best friend.

He’s in love. He’s getting fucking married, and next Sunday at that.

If you truly loved him, you’d stay the hell out of it. You’d stay the hell away from him till D day. Till the day there is no going back, and no chance for you to selfishly ruin everything.

So that’s what you’re currently doing, you’re avoiding him at all costs. You haven’t spoken to him in 2 weeks, much to your chagrin. And not without his effort.

He’s tried to contact you. He’s tried to call, to text. He even hounded Bucky about it, but you only know that because Bucky sent you a long text telling you to pull your head out of your ass, and stop ignoring him and Steve. He also reminded you that you are a GroomsWoman and you have duties to attend to. He may have also threatened to show up at your place, if you didn’t text him back within the hour.

So you caved. You texted him back, giving him a bullshit story about how busy you were with work right now. He clearly knew you were full of shit, but he left it alone. You’ve always assumed, and gotten the impression, that Bucky knew of your true feelings for Steve. Or he at least figured out there were more feelings there for you than just friendship. So you’d guess that he knew you were having a very hard time with this all.

You were struggling to come to terms with Steve’s impending union. Fuck, was that ever an understatement.

And in classic Bucky form, he seemed to understand without saying a thing, and then he offered to forward your message on to Steve. He promised to get him off your back for ‘work related’ reasons. And yes, he actually put it in quotes like that in his text.

So yeah, he totally knew. He probably always had, he was smart like that. He could read people better than anyone you knew. It was a little creepy actually, he was like some weird european spy, or something, you swear.

Yeah, you felt pretty guilty for not only skipping out on your GroomsWoman duties, but also for last minute cancelling on Steve’s Bachelor party. Because fuck that. That would not have ended well. Your intense heartache and feelings, mixed with alcohol and then stuck in a room with the object of your desires. Yeah, no, that had a ‘fucking mess’ written all over it. Entirely.

So you’d chickened out and texted Bucky, once again with a shit ass excuse about not feeling well. And again, you knew he saw right through it. But he covered for your ass like he always did.

You yank on your hair before dropping your arms, only to then not know what to do with them—or yourself, but one thing at a time here—so you awkwardly crossed them and halted your steps in front of your living room window. Staring out at the summer rain pelting down on everything outside; cars, people, the sidewalk.

What are you doing? Why are you like this? Why can’t you just get over these ridiculous feelings already? This is insanity, it’s the very definition of the damn word.

You take a deep breath, hoping it will help quiet the screams of your heart. With every passing day that’s brought you closer to his wedding day, your heart has gotten louder and louder. And your head? Well it’s not much better, it’s been trying to rationalize the pros of just telling him. Of just letting it all out finally. It’s been trying to tell you it would be worth it, it’s been attempting to give you this false hope that he would feel the same way. That if you just told him, he’d realize he feels the same and end this engagement to be with you.

But you aren’t a dumbass—at least not always—you know the likelihood of him feeling the same is a million to one. So basically so slim that there is no chance at all.

...But there is still that one shot! There is still that teeny tiny little chance!

Ugh! See! This is what it’s been like for weeks! This is the constant battle that has been raging inside you for months. Who are we kidding, it’s been like this for years. But it’s been made worse by the realization that you are running out of time. By the fact that the window of opportunity is slowly diminishing and will soon enough be shut forever.

Or at least until they get divorced! NO! You can’t think like that. They aren’t even fucking married yet, and already you are hoping for the end of their union. How sick are you? How fucking selfish? He’s your best friend. Be happy for him. Be thankful that he found his person.

Even if that person isn’t you.

Ugh! And now your hands are clenching the roots of your hair once again. This is agony. Maybe you can goto the hospital and ask them to put you under. Beg them to induce a coma, so you can finally just breathe and your head can shut off for a few days—

The slam of a door causes you to jump and whip around at the noise, only to feel all your blood attempt to leave your body at the cause of the sound. The very thing you are stressing out about right now.

Steve. He is standing not even 15 feet away from you currently, and he looks pissed as hell. Fuck fuck fuck. You are avoiding him for a reason! You can’t be around him right now, you are too weak, you will say something dumb. Or God forbid you will just word vomit all over him, you will just dump everything you’ve held in for years in one fell swoop.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Here, overthinking everything and having a mental breakdown. But you don’t say that, obviously, and instead go with, “What are you doing here, Steve?”

“Making sure you’re still fucking alive,” he glares at you. And ooh fuck, yup, yeah, he’s pissed alright. You’re fucking in for it now. “Since you can’t seem to reply to any of my messages, or answer your damn phone.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket, and then his eyes leave yours as he glances down at it’s screen, tapping away at it. A few seconds later, you hear the familiar chirp of your text notification tone and your eyes widen at the realization. You quickly go to grab your phone, hoping you can just avoid this whole thing. Hoping that by hiding it, it will defuse the ticking bomb that is currently your best friend.

He glances up and around for a second, his eyes then land on the traitorous electronic just as you pick it up and go to cram it in your pocket, but at the last second you flick the switch to put it in silent mode, then chuck it at the couch. His eyes follow the motion then snap back to yours, and you can’t miss just how heated they are now. Even more than they were before. “Steve, just let me—“

“I’m glad to see it still works perfectly fine,” he seethes, cutting you off and taking a few slow steps to fully enter the living room. Which causes your heart rate to pick up, tenfold. But not because your scared of him, fuck no, you’d never be scared of Steve. He gets mad sometimes, but never aggressive. The worst he gets is like a pissed off parent. So no, your heart wasn’t racing because of that, it was racing because he is so damn close now. Closer than he’s been in weeks, and he’s still like 10 feet from you. Gosh, you missed him so much—God, you are so damn pathetic!

“And that it’s on fucking loud,” he adds, halting his steps and narrowing his eyes at you. “So you have been ignoring me, huh?”

“It’s not like that—“

“Oh don’t give me that bullshit excuse, Y/N,” he cuts you off once again. And for a guy that wants answers, he sure as hell isn’t giving you the chance to actually give him any. “It’s me,” he gestures to himself, “Steve. Ya know, your best friend? The person who knows you better than anyone else. So tell me the damn truth, Y/N, why have you been ignoring me?”

I CAN’T! Don’t you fucking get that!? Instead of screaming that, you take a deep breath, and try to think of more rational words. “I haven’t been ignoring you, Steve,” you pause and scrunch up your nose. “At least not really. Not because of anything you’ve done. I’ve just been so busy lately, didn’t Bucky fill you in on this?”

“Really?” He says dryly, “you’re just going to stick with that horrendously fake excuse?”

“It’s not a damn excuse! I just needed some fucking space!” You snap, then quickly clench your mouth shut and drop your eyes to the floor, before exhaling deeply. The realization that he is clearly trying to get a rise out of you, hitting you instantly. He knows that if you’re pissed off, you’ll most likely slip up and tell him the truth. The fucker. He knows you too well.

“Some space?” He asks quietly, and you hear him take a few hesitant steps forward. “From who?”

You keep your mouth shut, and clench your eyes closed as well. If you open your mouth now, you’ll say something you’ll regret.

His breath hitches, “Fr-from me?”

The sheer pain and confusion in his voice makes your eyes start to sting, so you unclench them and blink rapidly a few times, in the hopes to stop the tears before they start. “From everyone,” you choke out.

“That’s not true though, is it? You’ve been replying to Bucky’s messages, so it is just space from me,” he takes a deep breath, “why? Why do you need space from me?”

“It’s not important,” you shake your head, tucking a few wayward strands behind your ear, “It’s stupid, and it won’t matter soon enough.”

“Of course it’s fucking important, Y/N. My best friend is upset at me for something, and that matters a hell of a lot to me,” he says adamantly. “So just tell me what’s wrong, Doll. Please?”

“I can’t, Steve. I really can’t, please just trust me here,” you sigh rubbing a hand on your forehead, while continuing to keep your eyes locked on the floor in front of you.

“And why can’t you?”

You keep your mouth shut, having no idea what to even say. But then you hear his light steps, just before his shoes come into your view.

“Doll, please look at me,” he pleads. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix this. I can’t deal with you mad at me, especially when I have no idea why.”

“There is nothing to fix, you didn’t do anything wrong. This is all on me, I’ll work myself through it and everything will go back to normal. I promise.”

“Damnit, Y/N! Would you just look at me already!”

You snap your eyes up to meet his, “there! Happy now?”

“No, as a matter of fact I’m fucking not!” He glares at you again. “Why are you being like this? What the hell happened? Just fucking tell me already!”

“You! You fucking happened, Steven!” You snap, glaring right back at him. The wall has finally crumbled, you can’t hold it in anymore, it’s all going to come out whether you like it or not. “You and your stupid perfection! And your dumb face! And—and this ridiculous fucking torch I’ve been carrying for you since grade fucking 7! I’m in love with you Steve, I always have been and the fact that you are marrying someone else is fucking killing me! I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can barely fucking breathe! My heart feels like it’s being crushed and—ARGH!” You yell the last part as your hands move to your head again, grabbing ahold of your roots and giving a few tugs as you spin around. You can’t face him right now. “So there it is, Steve! The whole fucking truth about why I’ve been avoiding you lately. That’s what you wanted to know so damn badly, isn’t it? How does knowing the real reason make you feel? Did my honesty ease your mind? Did it fucking fix things?”

“Y/N,” he says quietly, breathlessly, and you can here the shock in his voice. “I—I don’t,” he trails off.

Which causes you to groan loudly, shaking your head, “just forget it, Steve. Can you please just leave? I want to be alone. I need to be al—“

Your cut off by the motion of your body being spun around forcefully, yet gently. You spin so fast that you almost topple over, but two hands on either side of your face keep you upright. And then, out of fucking nowhere, Steve’s lips crash into yours.

To say that caught you off guard, would be an understatement. You must be fucking dead! Yup, you’ve died, clearly. Because there is no way in hell that Steve is kissing you right now! There just isn’t!

But yet, his lips feel so real. Too real. And just like that, you lose all train of thought, and you kiss him back with everything you have. Your arms slip around his waist, and one of his hands leaves your check to travel down and wrap around you. He pulls you closer and you comply, melting into him and deepening the kiss. His fingers dig into your hip, his forearm warming your lower back, and causing tingles to run up your spin.

But just as abruptly as it started, it stops. And not just that, Steve damn near jumps away from you as if you’re on fire. He takes a few large steps back, creating a vast space between you both.

“Shit,” he whispers under his breath, as he looks away from you. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He shakes his head and then his eyes widen, “Holy fuck, I’m getting married in a week. Literally getting married to Hailey in a fucking week.”

His eyes snap to yours, and the emotions in them make your heart clench even more. What have you done? “Look, Steve, let’s just pretend this never happened, okay? Let’s just act like this whole fucking night never fucking happened—“

“How can you expect me to just pretend like this never happened, Y/N? You just told me you’re in love with me! And we just fucking kissed, God d-damnit!” He stammers and starts to pace the width of your living room. He takes a deep breath, “Like what the hell, Y/N? You’ve had years to say all of this, and you pick right fucking now? A week before my damn wedding, to finally voice your feelings for me? Are you kidding me right now?”

Your nose flares at what he’s saying, because the fucking nerve on this asshole! “Are you kidding me right now?! Don’t pin this shit on me, Steven, I told you I couldn’t tell you! And you just kept fucking pushing! I tried to avoid you so that I wouldn’t say any of this to you, and what did you do? You showed up at my damn door demanding answers! I fucking tried so damn hard to keep it to myself. I did everything I could, to not ruin this friendship, or your big day with my stupid fucking feelings. You think I want to be in love with my best friend, who is getting married to someone else in a week?!” You scoff, crossing your arms, “Of course I fucking don’t. Give your damn head a shake.”

“I didn’t,” he snaps his mouth shut and shakes his head, before mumbling, “I can’t do this right now, Y/N, not yet, not like this. I ah, I’m sorry, I have to go.”

You want more than anything to stop him, to beg him to stay and to pick you, but what little dignity you have left won’t let you. You refuse to put yourself out there anymore. He wants to leave, than good fucking riddance! Don’t let the door hit you on the fucking way out!

“Yeah, I think that’s best,” you agree bitterly, seeing him purse his lips before nodding once then turning on his heel. A moment later you hear your door slam shut and at that very moment you collapse to the floor.

Everything you’ve felt over the last few weeks, months, years, all ripping out of you at once. And then on top of that, everything that happened tonight only adds more emotions to the mix. You’ve never cried this hard in your life, you can’t even bring yourself to stand up and go to your bed.

Shit, you can’t even manage the strength to get up onto your couch, which is only 3 feet away. So instead you curl up into a ball on your living room floor, and proceed to cry every last tear you have left.

You stay in this spot for a couple hours before you finally pick yourself up and drag yourself over to the window. Hoping and praying that the pain will go away soon, or will at least numb out enough to allow you to breathe normally.

But you know that won’t happen for a long time. This pain will stick with you for a while, and nothing you do or say will make it disappear. Nothing will make it go away, it’s taken root deep within you and you’ll carry it through life, along with you. Because Steve isn’t just some random guy, this isn’t just some silly crush. He’s your best friend, he’s the love of your life, and you hate him for it, but yet, you don’t.

Because I hate you, but I love you, and I wish you'd go away.

But I hate you, and I love you, and I wish that you would stay.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

@caps-lockdown @boxofteenageideas @giggleberts @strawberry-gothchild @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @viarogers @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @badassbeckettswan @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @saturngirlz @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @ivoryhazlewood @cjhorseback @jessiedaeum @capricornprince118 @pinkleopardss @drayshadow @wiserebelpartypie @dark-night-sky-99 @patzammit @cs-please @troublermalik @anika-ann @wxstedhexrt @rynabarnesrogers

[awkwardbluefish]

A Roomate or Two

—

Summary: Jason isn’t happy with what they do with Tim. Especially after not what happened to him. I mean being tortured into a baby joker? Yeah that wouldn’t be fun.Not at all. So what if he has an extra person to look after? It should be fine.

Warnings: mentions of torture and panic attacks

A/n: @aloofwindbag inspired me with their magnificent drawing so enjoy!

—

Jason sees red when he sees Tim. He’s small, tiny really and that straight jacket? It engulfed him.

“Hey buddy,” Jason says and hauntingly sad green eyes meet his. The once blue eyes widen before the boy glances down, shuffles his feet.

“You don’t like me,” he whispers and Jason cringes.

Cause yeah, he didn’t like this kid. Before that is. When he was still fucked up by the Lazarus and he wasn’t right in the head. He still wasn’t right, didn’t think he’d ever be again but at least he had his goddamn head out of his ass now.

He coughs and shrugs, clicking at hinges and pulling off the hood. He hooks it under his arm and leans against the white wall behind it. “Eh that was in the past. You’re all right kid, better than Dickie, that’s for sure.”

He doesn’t miss the way Tim curls into himself at the name, well, nickname. Jason doesn’t narrow his eyes but it’s a damn close thing. What the hell did the golden boy do now? Well, he could take a guess.

Tim swallows and Jason eyes the stark white neck at the motion. Anger coils around his gut tight, just like a fuckin’ cobra. If Bruce has just ended that bastard, none of this would be happening. How many robins does he need to lose because he can’t break one rule that could save thousands?

“Bruce doesn’t think so,” comes the whisper and the trembling starts. His arm move under the fabric and he starts rocking.

“When does Bruce ever think?” Jason jokes. It falls to deaf ears. “Oi, replacement- what are you doing?! Stop that!”

Laughter spills from his chapped lips and Jason is rushing forward. The helmet clanks against white tiles as he shoves Tim to his chest. The boy trembles, green eyes wide as tears spill down his pale cheeks. His lips are stretched up into a tortured grin and Jason tugs the boy’s face into his shoulder.

He holds him and he holds him tight. The laughter echoes in the room, only stopping for a wet hiccup or two. Jason rocks them, hand fisted in a green hair. He feels sick, bile licking at the back of his throat. Tim doesn’t belong here.

And he’s going to get him fuckin’ out.

—

Jason has more nightmares and Tim notices. He tried so damn hard to keep them down, to kick them the fuck out of his head. That hadn’t work.

He should’ve known Tim wouldn’t sleep well. It’s should’ve been obvious, obvious like the sky is blue and waters wet. And yet now he’s tracking the little shit through Gotham, on the first night god damn it, keeping an eye out for a pipsqueak with sickly green hair.

It takes two fuckin’ hours and now he knows why Alfred is basically bold. All of his hair is going to go white and this point. He isn’t even twenty five yet dammit.

Jason pointedly makes noise as he walks into the alley. Tim flinches before relaxing as the cat bumps their head under his chin. Well shoot, that’s just cute ain’t it?

“Looks like I found two runaways,” He drawls and Tim peers up at him under long murky hair.

He ducks again, avoiding Jason’s eyes. He huffs and moves forward, plonking himself on his ass, on most likely pissed on ground, to be closer to the kid. The things he does for the little runt.

The black cat hisses at him, ears flattened and fur on end. “Shove it,” Jason tells it wisely just as Tim soothes the little kitten with soft whispers.

It’s quiet for a while but then again Jason wasn’t ever one for patience. “I know why you ran,” he informs the boy and Tim tenses, refusing to meet his eye, “and frankly it’s a load of bullshit.”

“I have nightmares of that fucker, not you Tim. Joker did this to me, to us and you are not responsible for it at all. I have nightmares, yeah I’m man enough to admit it and so does everyone. I just got to get the fuck over it.”

Jason’s had enough of this sappy bullshit so he heaved himself up, patting down his butt because it’s wet and it hasn’t rained at all today. He just hopes he didn’t sat in piss. That wouldn’t be fun.

“C’mon kid. It’s one in the morning but I’m craving pancakes so we’re freakin’ getting some.” He informs them and he sees Tim smile. It’s small but it’s genuine. It’s his own smile, not one that was forcefully carved onto his face. Jason decides to ignore the mushy feeling in his chest. Yep, no need for that.

He makes a move to stand, freezing when the kitten mewls loudly in protest, claws digging into white pants. Tim freezes while Jason makes a mental note to go shopping. Yeah, that might be a good idea.

“Are you and the feline coming or what?” He grumbles, smirking when the look of shock and restrained joy crosses the kids face.

“We’re keeping her?” He asks and of course the little nerd would already know the cats gender. Jason most likely wouldn’t of even checked.

“She’s fiesty,” he tells him, hooking an arm around the boys waist and pulling the two tight to his person. “I like it.”

—

Jason’s watching the two passed out on his worn out white couch when he gets the call. He should have been expecting it, because of course they would know.

He makes sure he’s away from the brats before he accepts it. He doesn’t want to wake them up, and he doesn’t want Tim to hear this. Because whatever goes down Jason knows he’s not going to like it, not one fuckin’ bit.

“Where is he.” Bruce demands as soon as he answers. Jason rolls his eyes, leaning against the fire escape and rolling a ciggie between his lips.

He sucks the cancer in, letting it out slowly. He can feel Bruce’s impatience over the phone. Good, he thinks, let the fucker wait for a bit.

“Well hello to you to,” He drawls out lazily, uncaringly. He would rather be watching the two strays sleeping, it was- dare he say it- nice watching them both relax. Ew, he’s gone soft. Gross.

“Where is he.” He growls again and Jason smirks, he likes making him angry. It’s the least he deserves.

“I haven’t a clue of who you’re talking about,” Jason informs him, eyeing the wonderful view. A brick wall right in front of his apartment, how lucky can a guy get?

“I’m not playing games Jason,” Bruce begins, voice low and growled. “Where is Tim?” Bruce apparently isn’t playing around, and isn’t that a bummer. Because Jason isn’t either.

“Why the fuck do you want to know?” He cuts in, fingers tightening around the railway. He doesn’t want to get rid of the disposable phone just yet. He needs to hear Bruce’s so called excuse.

Bruce sighs like he’s just a kid and doesn’t know what he is doing. Well fuck you, he’s an adult now. He can do whatever the duck he wants.

“Tim is under my care,” Jason doesn’t let him finish.

“And is that why you chucked him in Arkham? Some caretaker you are,” He sneers, nice and low. The cobra is back and this time it’s ready to go in for the kill.

“Tim went through a lot,” and here comes the bullshitting, “he needs help and Arkham can give him that.”

Jason barks out a laugh, loud in the night. “You’re one of the richest men alive! You could hire anyone to help him and yet you throw him in Arkham with the crazies and expect him to be a okay?!”

“I didn’t say that-“ Bruce is angry but Jason? He’s fucking pissed.

“Exactly! You didn’t say any of that when you should have! They had him in a stray jacket and locked up like he’s a killer! You aren’t helping him Bruce, you’re pushing him away in the worst damn way possible.”

There’s blaring silence at his yell and Jason grits his teeth. He drops the ciggie and crushes it with his foot, kicking it over the balcony after.

“I know,” Bruce finally says. It’s said quietly, in a low murmur. “I failed him, I failed both of you. This is all my fault.”

“Get over yourself Bruce,” Jason snaps, “this isn’t about you and your self deprecation shit. This is about Tim, and Tim only. When you finally get your arse out of your angsty crack then we might be able to talk. Might.”

The hangs up right after, physically shaking. He always had to make it about him huh? It’s always about his failures, his mistakes. What about the people he failed? He never truly thought about that.

He scruffs a hand over his face and drags it down. He needs to go on eBay or some shot to get some furniture and nerd stuff.

He throws the phone, watching in satisfaction as it smashes against brick wall before tumbling down. Have fun tracking that old man.

It’s warmer in the house which is nice. It doesn’t feel as lonely anymore. He goes back to the lounge, flipping onto his armchair with a huff.

A tail flickers and a yellow eye flares at him as Tim stirs at the sound. Jason snorts. “Yeah, yeah you little shit. I’ll keep it down.”

A yellow slitted eye glower at him a second longer before closing and Jason resists groaning. He’ll have to get shit for the damn cat too, dang it.

Maybe he can get Barbara to help with that. She could give him Bruce’s credit card and his information. Yeah, that’ll work.

—

“Why did you do that?” Jason asks quietly, desperately.

He holds the soaked boy to his chest as he wraps his hands in a white bandage. His fists are split and purple, painfully bruised.

Tim doesn’t answer and Jason sighs, tying the bandage. He buries his nose in green hair, taking in the scent of fresh coconut.

They’re sat in the bathroom, glass cracked and splintered around them. Tim is shaking, staring at a piece of glass with unseeing eyes.

Jason tears his gaze away, understanding and guilt knowing on his chest. It looks just like him, with the green hair and eyes. Tim’s blood is smeared on it, making a bloody grin. Tim doesn’t see himself when he looks in the mirror, he sees the joker.

“I got some left over black hair dye,” Jason says quietly and Tim just nods, eyes haunted and desperate. Jason holds him a little bit closer.

—

They cut his hair first.

It’s a mangled heap and it genuinely looks like a birds nest. Jason knows the brushing has too hurt, because seriously, how couldn’t it?

Tim doesn’t even flinch though. That doesn’t settle right with Jason so he apologises after every yank and after every tangle is cleared. Tim accepts it with a small amused smile but his eyes? They remained haunted and empty.

—

According to Glamour it’s a good thing Tim’s hair hasn’t been washed in a couple of days. Jason thinks otherwise but he keeps that to himself as he starts the process of dying. Heh.

First Jason lathers the dye in his hands, snickering at the sound it makes. Tim smiles slightly at him, a small twitch of the lips.

He applies the dye half an inch away from Tim’s scalp. He massages his locks and slowly made his way towards the ends of the locks. After a bit he goes back and cover the roots, smiling when Tim finally began to relax into his hands like putty.

At least he’s finally getting comfortable.

—

“Tim- Tim oh my god,” Jason is saying and the little nerd is just giggling at him. “Tim stop, stop look at this little shit!”

Tim lets out an hilarious snort that Jason would have loved to film but he’s too busy gaping at the prancing little shit in front of them.

She- that damn cat- was red! Red! “I let her on my couch, oh my god Tim I let her on my couch.”

Tim looses it, curling into himself as Babs, the newly named orange cat, climbs up his back and curls around his neck. A yellow eye peers into Jason’s soul and Jason swears the thing is smirking.

“Tim, Tim my couch is white. White.”

—

“Is he safe?” Is the first thing he hears when he answers the call.

Jason sighs into the receiver, adjusting the mobile to fit more comfortably against his ear. His hands were loaded with shopping bags. At least he’s taken his helmet off. Yes, yes he did go shopping as Red Hood. Fuck You, he does what he wants.

“That depends,” he says, heaving ten grocery bags onto the counter. He glances behind him, smiling when a soft snort reached his ears. “Do you consider me safe?”

“You’re better than half of the people in Gotham,” Barbara tells him, voice laced with anger and annoyance. Jason knows it’s not at him, it’s at this damn city. The damn world.

“You’re too sweet to me,” Jason informs her, ruffling through the bags and taking out the freezer stuff.

“I know, and I’ll continue to be if you take care of Tim.” Barbara says simply. There’s ruffling on the other end and he guesses she’s in bed.

He silent for a moment, shoving the meat and frozen peas away. “You know I will,” he finally says, “as long as you and Alfie come visit of course.”

“What about Dick?” She asks and Jason slams the freezer shut accidentally. “...I’m guessing that’s a no.”

He cringes as a warning meow and and a flick of a tail is directed at him over the couch. Yeah, he deserves that one.

“Of course it’s a fuckin’ no. He did nothing to stop Bruce from putting Tim in Arkham. Hell, he didn’t even go to find Tim with you guys on that night. He not getting near him in a 10 mile radius or I’m kicking his arse.” Jason curses and Barbara laughs slightly.

“Watch your language,” she teases and just like that the mood is lighter. Just a bit. “You got a kid in the house now.”

“Fuck you,” Jason wisely replies back, slotting the drinks into the fridge. He shuts the door quietly, well aware of the Brady yellow eyes aimed at the back of neck. “And for your information I have a kid and a cat in the house, so suck it.”

“Wait-,” Jason snickers at the sudden ruffling, placing the biscuits and chips into the cabinet. “You guys have a cat? Since when?”

“Since Tim ran away because he thought he was the reason for my nightmares. Found the brat in the alley with the stray. She was black Barbara, then she was red. I let her on my couch, my couch.”

Barbara is chuckling softly, clearly amused at Jason’s distress. “The next thing you know she’ll be going purple,” she teases and Jason scowls, folding up the bags and sticking them in the bottom draw.

“I was prepared this time. I got a blanket on the couch, nice try little fucker.” He declares proudly, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the back of the couch. Babs stares at him before curling into Tim’s chest happily.

“Please tell me you didn’t call it little fucker.” Barbara says despairingly and Jason smirks.

“Nope!” He sings.

“What’d you call it then?” She asks and Jason grins. She’s just gonna have to wait.

“You’re gonna have to wait my dear,” he teases and Barbara groans, “you shall know when you come visit!”

She laughs at that and Jason can imagine her shaking her head. “You tease, okay then. You’ll have the money by tomorrow morning so try to get everything sorted out then, yeah?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jason murmurs, smiling softly. Oh god, he’s gone soft. How gross.

—

“Tim, tim please stop! It’s just lightning, he’s not here!” Jason says desperately, holding Tim wrists to stop him from scratching at himself.

Tim just screams, tears streaming down his pale cheeks, eyes screwed up and chin trembling. Spit bubbles past his lips when he sobs out a hiccup, fighting desperately against his memories.

Jason doesn’t know what to do so he holds him tight in his arms. His forearms are soon bleeding, scratched at by nails that are far too long and dirty. It stings but he doesn’t complain, just holding tight.

Babs watch them warily from the couch, tail flickering in concern as Jason begins rocking them back and forth. Thunder clashes and Tim screams again, sobbing harder and shaking his head.

“It’s just thunder,” Jason reassures, rocking them softly. “It just thunder. You’re okay Timmy, you’re with me and Babs. You’re home,” he whispers.

Tim doesn’t seem to hear him but Jason repeats it like a mantra. The storm rages on for another four hours. Tim only slackens into his arms after three.

Neither of them sleep that night.

—

“I’m sorry,” Tim says as daylight flickers in through the glass door of the fire escape.

Jason shakes his head, running a hand through his new raven and greasy locks. “You never have to apologise for being scared. Never. Just remembered you’re safe here, no one will ever hurt you here.”

The boy nods and Jason holds him tighter, both watching as the shadows are chased to the corners of the apartment. Babs craws into Tim’s lap and licks at his chin.

“You’re home.” Jason repeats and this time Tim hears it. He nods.

—

“You still wanna be a vigilante?” Jason asks, flipping an egg.

Tim nods fiercely and strong and Jason sighs in amusement. He plates the egg on some toast and slides it across the bench to Tim.

“I do. I won’t kill, I won’t. Not- not again.” He murmurs and Jason nods, reaching over to ruffle his raven locks before going over to turn off the stove. He bats Babs away from the pan as he does.

“I don’t expect you to,” Jason says and then, “do you have a name?”

“Outlast.”

[spnreactionblogging]

DESPAIR

SPOILERS BELOW / tw suicide sort of

ah the title really does sum this up. I am filled with such dread going in. I know cas gets sent to super hell, I know the destiel shippers are declaring it canon (but then, when haven't they), and I've heard from a reliable source that the show officially as of just now is queerbaiting for real by making it vague and easy to ignore it instead of actually confirming anything. plus nobody seems to give a fuck about jack, as usual, and sam didn't get to say goodbye? god how can this get better???? I hope buckleming got to fucking murder castiel! that would really improve this for me!!! the cherry on the shit sundae for real so okay here goes. ugh. I have this angel's envy bourbon at 1PM, oops. I feel like I will need it for this one more than the others I also am ensconced in my castiel trenchcoat + "be super good" shirt, and cas, crowley, and sam the q-pals are joining me. dean is banished to remain in the tote bag they live in. god I want to scream. this fucking synopsis "With the plan in full motion, Sam, Dean, Castiel and Jack fight for the good for the common goal." oh the plan to use Jack as a suicide bomb???? great idea. lol I hate this. whose "common good"????????? ah but yes dean runs a dictatorship right. no wonder chuck butts heads with him dean looks so fucking smug in the amazon prime video app, hovering over the episode where cas will die horribly. fuck. there is nothing that can emotionally prepare me for this episode the show is going to end with sam and dean because it started with sam and dean and chuck/the IRL writers are bitter about it I guess??? delete fucking everything god, very fucking cute of dean to be like WE GOTTA DO SOMETHING!!! you fucking piece of shit you forcememed this to go as quickly as possible because you want Jack fucking dead, don't pretend you care god. fuck. jack apologizing for dying, to the empty. I hate everything so much ah, so that's why the opening title screen has been that. gross. horrible. a jack singularity is that it? really? jack's dead? just like that. okay. awful. oh he's MAYBE dead. reassuring. I see that briana buckmaster and jim beaver will be joining us my cat is sitting in front of the TV trying to prevent me from watching this, trying to save me from myself oh and felicia day oh this one's written by robert berens, I mostly trust him I think sam should've photocopied the book first oh hey RSJ directed this one I'm glad to have rachel miner back in any capacity that's... alpha/omega on the side there? makes sense I hope it's a fake book god I love sam sitting on the like. what is that, weird equipment panels? more confirmation sam is queer, you heard it here what leverage does dean even think he has cool jack's just getting tortured now "the boy is still useful" at least billie isn't pretending to care about him. oh she left the book thank fuck cas goes to him right away, please hug this child alcohol is not gonna help you guys sleep oh here's dean's half-assed apology. "sorry not sorry that I just couldn't stop, I couldn't help it, I just wanted to get what I wanted, and now that I didn't get what I wanted, sowwy uwu I guess" "you've snapped me out of worse" yeah don't minimize this, sam oh yeah michael exists. I notice dean refers to him as michael and not including adam. way to go I notice that sam does not drink right away "to somehow" those eggs look great "no guns at the table" is a solid rule not only for how miserable that is, but because everything surrounding firearms is a carcinogen and doesn't need to be near food please love yourself charlie please eat good eggs am I supposed to know stevie, was she part of the alternate universe, I still like never watched most of 10-13 oh we're gonna kill MULTIPLE queer characters in this episode, awesome. we gonna kill charlie AGAIN??????? we brought her back just to kill her off, AGAIN? LIKE KEVIN? and bobby I guess?? can I just say how much I hate the concept of a "final boss fight" like why is it always ending in a fight, why is violence always the answer, and why do we feel like one final violent action will solve all the problems huh charlie's shirt looks like a tycho album cover okay so I didn't forget stevie, she was brand new? maybe? I love cas and jack :( feels strange because this all sucks there's no such thing as destiny, jack don't fucking die for sam and dean and 'the world' damn right, cas, he doesn't need "absolution" well that's true for you, cas, you care because he's him. dean just wants to use him cas and jack are good. charlie this was so not your fault. as usual this is the winchesters' fault. tell 'em charlie!!! get 'em!!! you're not sorry, dean. "What now?" is a huge fucking mood, dean oh, greg! our old friend! greg was a real one (but not anymore) yeah eileen's screwed. this includes sam too. and dean i guess. sam is a good person who cares about people despite dean's best efforts to stop him I can't see who he's texting. are cas and jack in the back? poor eileen :( god poor sam having to basically get eileen in front of eyewitnesses who can attest that she disappeared cas and jack are in the backseat yeah I wish he'd tell her she's never gonna reply now yeah she's gone. interesting use of technology that they couldn't've done earlier in the series, to show she was typing but then stopped god that's awful. fuck. "If I let myself go then I'll lose my mind. I can't, right now." that's a huge fucking mood sam let's just postpone all that grief for later. gotta shove it down. huge fucking mood. god I'm so sorry somewhere central... the... bunker? don't split everyone up dean, fuck yes revenge is definitely the answer. killing things is the answer. "not having a choice" is obviously the answer. you fucker we get a sam and dean hug but where's the one for cas. you can like... see it in sam and jack's eyes that they are worried they're never gonna see them again. I'm horrified that cas isn't getting to say goodbye to jack nor sam. I can't handle this. I guess this scene is where they took that last group photo that misha posted back in march? RIP :( oh hey donna jack, that feeling is TheDepression oh gas-n-sip sam's sweet to try to give jack some autonomy here instead of having him just... being shuffled around like baggage. is that eileen's car then this music is intense don't burn the fucking library also wow dean with the reaper blade again is oof. wow. yikes. dean is become death, destroyer of worlds for real. jesus that is fucking horrifying to see. aren't you, dean? aren't you a bringer of death. remember when you hated doing that back in season... 4? 5? later? dean has learned nothing. sam's been trapped in a silo before hasn't he. or that panic room or something. donna is sweet. jack is good. jack deserves better. sam :( donna is very kind I like hearing jody and garth mentioned even if they're not in this episode (?) oh hey charlie sam at least knows how you feel, charlie I like this set god I've missed jim beaver is jack going around with spraypaint? I'm like oh god there's no ventilation. I guess it's a paint bucket but still the fumes are bad. better than being evaporated though I guess big man on campus. RIP stanford sam at least there's a bucket. praeses magna. "president large"? thinking about how it would be impossible to have extras for episodes 19 and 20 I like watching jack paint RIP that plant. apparently he has his powers dean walks around way too comfortably with the reaper scythe. oh but the plan has changed. did billie leave that book and nobody read it?????? dean you don't have friends, bud. yeah how did you tink you would even stand a chance, dean. this is the worst plan ever I'm so tired of seeing cas get tortured. I don't want to see billie get hurt either. is "billie" actually the empty or something "Has virtutes conliga. Eas integra. Eas firma. Nos omnes serva." = "These virtues bind. Those infected. These are strong. We keep them all." idk google translate, I feel like that may not be "infected" but more like integrity I like the effects they did on the wardings there yeah pretty much you can't stop god oh I'm real sad about that couple who vanished together :( bye charlie bye bobby. :( bye donna??? oh that like gold paint gossamer looking shit going on with billie's arm is cool god I'm glad billie smacked him in the face, dean deserves it. I just rewound it to see dean get clocked again, it's so worth it so they went back to the bunker... for what? billie can just go there. sam and jack are gonna have such a rough fucking day. all those double cheeseburgers are back for revenge on dean billie's right actually. dean always thinks the rules don't apply to him because he thinks he should be making the rules. castiel should be with jack, not with dean. fuck. can't cas still heal people the scythe on the wall is a good visual. I really like lisa berry, she does an amazing job is this the same room with the ma'lak box always happy to bleed for the winchesters. christ. fuck. even with dean's pocketknife. cas I'm so sorry. sweetheart you don't deserve this. 7B? so Jack was trapped in 5B, this is a different room but probably the same actual setpiece just rearranged do you just... have to wait her out yeah yeah dean you suck. correct, you never should've left sam and jack. wow I feel zero sympathy for dean at all. you do it to yourselllllf you do, that's what really hurts. oh baby don't summon the empty please :( I'm so glad to know that cas never told them about how he saved jack, it's none of their business yeah it would be with jack, cas. you should be with him man this is shitty. this is like a bad fanfic for real. wow these shots are like, when it cuts between them it's so obvious these were not the same camera lmao fuck. how many takes was this god i hate dean. he has not done this for love. dean is a spiteful person. "you're the most caring man on earth" literally kill me. I want to die. jesus fuck. i want to be dead this is awful this sucks this actually really hurts. this sucks so much. dean you squandered this angel's life. now jack has no father. i hate you dean winchester. i hate you. you don't deserve cas loving you jack knows, jack can feel it. I hate hate hate hate hate hate that jack is left alone with the winchesters. i hate this. jesus fuck i hate this so much i hate this jack sweetheart I'm so sorry dean you fucking ass please pick up the fucking phone. please answer sam. i hate you god dean i hate you fuck dean you are the worst. fuck my life. fuck all this. fuck this show. i'm so angry castiel deserves so much better than this. fuck i'm so mad. why wasn't his moment of happiness knowing that JACK WASN'T GOING TO DIE. i hate this. I'm so upset. fucking shit-ass writing. and it's still not fucking canon you morons at least uh they don't have to have extras for the last two episodes? did they add that footage after? is that what got changed up? everyone's gone huh. god just. dump the show right into the trash. bye. also for fuck's sake nobody gives a fuck about jack like I didn't even know he survived. nobody cares. "sam didn't get to say goodbye" FUCKING JACK DIDN'T GET TO SAY GOODBYE fuck this so much. fuck, is dean just chuck's OC? made in his image and furious that his mini-me isn't acting the way he wants? is that why he gets exonerated at every turn? "all the evil shit you did is fine dean you're the MOST LOVING AND THE BESTEST EVER!!!" fuuuuuck

[yoon-kooks]

Little Things

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: FriendsToLovers!AU, FWB, Fluff

Summary: You never thought a casual one-night stand would lead to six months of friends-with-benefits shenanigans, nor did you believe that something as simple as borrowing his hoodie would make you question your feelings for him.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: this is day one of my yoongi fluff week 2.0!! tomorrow ill be posting a short dogwalker!au ft. min holly ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ check out the official myg fluff week post for the full schedule~!

When the rustling of sheets finally settles after a long night, it’s all routine. First you cuddle your bare body up to his and listen for your heartbeats to slow. Then you stare longingly, waiting for a kiss. And when you finally get the kiss, you never want it to end—the feeling of his tender lips against yours. But then it does, and the two of you have a moment of silence to cherish each other’s company.

“I should get going now,” you break the silence, running a delicate index finger along his chest.

Yoongi waits until your finger has made its way up to the tip of his chin before nodding. Your lips can’t hold back a tiny smile and giggle. It’s always so funny how the two of you don’t have much to say once the physical intimacy ends, and yet, there’s this unspoken feeling that lingers between you and him.

And after giving the boy one final smooch on the cheek, you sit up in the bed and stretch. The boy, too, knows that’s his cue to get cleaned up and dressed. You enjoy the view as he rolls out of the blankets first to slip on a fresh pair of boxers.

“Hey Yoongi, can you toss me my underwear please?” you ask innocently, still waiting beneath the warmth of the blankets. His eyes glance over at the bottom corner of his bed, the designated spot where all your clothes got tossed aside amidst the sex. But in the aftermath, your clothing seems to have disappeared.

“Help me look for them, Lazy.” Yoongi sneaks another peek at your exposed chest before handing you a heavy black mass. It isn’t until you unfold the black mass that you realize it’s one of his many hoodies. One of the hoodies you’d always wanted to try on when he wasn’t looking because it looked so soft and comfy.

You slip the hoodie over your naked body, thankful that it covers just below your ass cheeks. Although you really want to check yourself out in the mirror, you instead help the boy gather your clothes that had somehow scattered across the bedroom. A sweater is found on the floor, jeans thrown over the chair, a cute bralette hanging over the computer screen, and lace panties in the hand of your friend with benefits.

Snatching your last garment out of Yoongi’s hand, you smirk. “I’d put these back on, but they’re probably all dirty now. So I won’t~” Instead of putting any of your own clothes back on, you shove them into your bag and opt to make use of Yoongi’s hoodie. The boy picks up on your naughty intentions and pulls the hood over your head, perhaps to trap in the warmth.

“Are you going to be warm enough like that on the way home?” Yoongi starts digging through his dresser for some sweatpants you can borrow along with the hoodie. “It’s cold out tonight, you know.”

“It takes like five minutes for me to drive home, so I think I’ll be fine, Yoongi. But I appreciate the thought,” you giggle at his sweet gesture. The two of you might only be acquaintances who use each other for sex, but he’s definitely the most thoughtful boy you’ve come across. You can recall so many instances in which you were on the receiving end of his soft side, like the time he helped you cover up a bad hickey with makeup, or how he disses the annoying coworkers you always rant to him about. And part of you envies the lucky person who’ll someday be blessed with all his love and affection.

“Fine, but just remember to return my hoodie when you have time,” he puts on a pouty lip as he walks you to the door.

“Nah, I think I’ll keep it forever. Thanks,” you stick your tongue out and wave goodbye with sweaterpaws.

-

When you awake the next morning, you’re nice and toasty thanks to Yoongi’s hoodie. It’s so comfy, you had fallen asleep in it as soon you laid down on your bed. And for a solid ten minutes, you roll around your bed contemplating whether or not to “accidentally” steal Yoongi’s hoodie and claim it as your own.

After coming to the conclusion that theft is never the answer, you change into a clean set of your own clothes and toss Yoongi’s hoodie into the washer along with your dirty laundry. You suppose you should be a good person and return the hoodie all clean and neatly folded. But until the laundry is done, an idea pops into mind. You pull out your phone and text the boy.

[9:27AM] Y/N “are you free for dinner tonight?”

[9:29AM] Yoongles “why yes i am”

[9:30AM] Yoongles “was there somewhere in particular you wanted to get food from?”

[9:30AM] Y/N “just come to my place 💃”

[9:33AM] Yoongles “oh 😳”

[9:33AM] Yoongles “omw 🏃‍♂️”

[9:35AM] Y/N “NO NOT NOW you horny fucker”

[9:36AM] Y/N “LATER.”

[9:37AM] Yoongles “later 🤤”

You can only shake your head with a smile as you toss your phone aside. Smiling like an idiot seems to be becoming a bad habit the more you interact with Yoongi.

“Hey Y/N, I’m expecting a package today with some, uh, adult toys, so answer the door if someone knocks. I’m gonna be out with Jimin. Thanks in advance~” Your nosy roommate, Taehyung, pops his head into your room and chuckles when he sees your face. “Oh shit, you’re smiling like an idiot again… Let me guess—Yoongi finally asked you to marry him?”

“Yoongi and I aren’t like that,” you throw a heart-shaped pillow at the boy.

“Funny, you said the same thing after you had that fateful ‘one-night stand’ with him. Half a year later and you’re still sleeping with him,” Taehyung shrugs as if your love life is any of his business. “So, naturally, the next step after friends with benefits would be for y’all to date, yeah?”

For a moment, you really do consider the possibility of being that lucky person who could call Yoongi their boyfriend. But at the same time, you’d worry that your relationship with him wouldn’t last outside of the physical intimacy. “I really don’t think so, Tae.”

Taehyung frowns, chucking the pillow back at you. “Whatever you say, Y/N. But I’m just saying when you got home last night, you looked awfully happy and cozy. Enamored, even.”

“That’s because he let me borrow his hoodie…”

“Yeah, but whenever you borrow my clothes, it feels a lot more malicious and petty than heartfelt, you know.” With an overexaggerated hmph, your roommate backs out of your doorway.

“It’s just… different.” Because your world is somehow different when Min Yoongi’s involved.

-

As soon as the clean laundry comes out of the dryer, you’re so tempted to wear the toasty hoodie one last time. You slip your arm in the sleeve “just to test how warm it is fresh out of the dryer”, and the coziness only reminds you more of the boy who let you borrow it in the first place. He’s sweet, he’s gentle (except in bed!), but he’s not yours.

You slowly retract your arm from the sleeve with a disheartening feeling, but pause halfway out of the temptation that never seems to fade. You really shouldn’t be playing around with something that doesn’t belong to you, and yet, it’s something you can’t let go of.

So maybe, just until Yoongi shows up, you’ll secretly wear his hoodie to keep warm as you run to the grocery store and start preparing dinner in the kitchen…

Knock. Of course someone has to knock on your door right when you’re about to start prepping dinner. You seriously contemplate whether or not you should ignore the inconsiderate person who had the audacity to interrupt your mission in the kitchen. But it might be Taehyung’s dildo, so you suppose you should answer the door.

“Oh,” is all you can say when you open the door and see Yoongi eyeing you up and down in his clothes. You’re caught red-handed.

“Cute hoodie you got there.” He gives you a nod of approval as if he wasn't the one who bought it in the first place. But maybe this means he doesn’t mind you wearing his stuff. Maybe he likes the way it looks on you.

“Thanks, it does look pretty cute on me, doesn’t it?” you play along before switching back to reality. “What are you doing here so early? I told you to come by for dinner, not lunch. The only reason why I bothered to answer the door was because I thought it was Tae’s dildo. I haven’t even started preparing the food yet and-”

“Wait, two questions: 1) Dildo? And 2) you’re making dinner?” Yoongi tilts his head with wide eyes. “If I had known, I would’ve brought over drinks or dessert… maybe a fruit tart or someth-”

“No… We’re making dinner. Together,” you stop him from rambling on. “And yes, dildo.”

After dragging the boy into the kitchen, you throw a spare apron at him. He leans against the counter looking awfully boyfriend-like, waiting for the head chief to give him directions.

“You can chop the vegetables and I’ll handle the noodles and broth, okay?” You walk him around your kitchen, briefly going over where cooking utensils and ingredients can be found. He nods with a chuckle over how serious you are about cooking dinner together.

“Yoongi, come here,” you say an hour later, once the vegetable soup is just about ready to come off the stove. With a tiny spoon, you scoop up some broth and feed it to the boy. “How is it?”

“Hmm…..” He smacks his lips and takes his sweet time in giving you proper feedback. “Can I have another taste?”

You dip the spoon into the pot and hold it out for Yoongi taste once more. Except this time, you pull the spoon away just before he can taste anything and stick it into your own mouth in triumph. Your smirking lips keep the spoon in place, taunting him.

He steps a little closer, backing you against the counter, until he has a grip on the spoon. Tugging gently enough for you to fight back, he laughs at you “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

You shrug, still keeping a tight hold on the spoon between your lips. It’s only when his face draws near yours that you weaken your grip and allow the spoon to slip out. Because there’s something else you’d rather have between your lips than a fucking spoon.

With a spontaneous kiss on the lips, you give Yoongi an innocent smile before forcing him to get the bowls and another spoon. And once the soup is all dished out, you lead him to the couch with bowls in hand.

“Ooh, it’s good, right?” you ask while slurping up a long noodle.

“It’s only good because someone did a phenomenal job chopping up those veggies.” He leans over to wipe off the tiny bit of broth that had splattered onto your cheek. “What made you want to cook soup all of a sudden?”

“Because it’s nice to have something warm when it’s cold out?” you chug down a good amount of your broth. “And because I wanted to share something with you, as thanks for letting me borrow your hoodie last night.”

“And you’re still wearing it, by the way.”

“Well do you want me to take it off now? During dinner?” You set your soup bowl down on the coffee table and teasingly tug at the bottom hem of the hoodie.

“Maybe a little later?” He flips the hood over your head again. “You’re free for the rest of the night?”

Nodding, you pull a blanket over yourself and snuggle up to the boy as he finishes up his soup. That unspoken feeling lingers again.

“Y/N,” he says once his empty bowl is set down on the table next to yours.

“Yeah?” You throw part of your blanket over his lap as he settles back onto the couch with you.

“Cooking was fun.” He runs his fingers along your back in a soothing motion. “It’s a good thing I came early, right?”

“Let’s do it again soon. I want to try making tacos next time,” you yawn.

“Okay,” is the last thing you hear him say before drifting off to sleep. Cooking with a friend was a lot more exhausting than you had anticipated. But like the boy said, it was fun. And it’s the little things like that that you appreciate so much about your relationship with Yoongi.

-

“Y/N.” In the midst of your slumber, you feel something soft poke your cheek but you decide to ignore it.

“Y/N, wake up.” You feel something shake your shoulder but you decide to ignore it.

“Y/N, c’mon on.” You feel something warm against your lips that you can’t ignore. So you kiss back.

“Mm… What time is it?” You stretch your body out, still in the arms of someone warm.

“It’s seven in the morning, and I have to be at the studio in half an hour,” Yoongi’s soothing voice almost puts you back to sleep until you realize you’d slept right through the night with the boy on your couch.

“No you don’t,” you giggle, rolling yourself on top of the boy to give him a couple of love bites. And after a rather affectionate hug, you finally let him go. “Just kidding.”

“Haha, very funny, Dork.” He flips the hood over your head once more before heading to the door. “Thanks for the soup. I enjoyed last night.” A night without the obligations of friends with benefits.

“Me too.” As he opens the door, you remember something, “Wait, Yoongi. Your hoodie.” You start struggling to get the oversized black mass over your head until he stops you.

“You can keep it,” he laughs at you.

“…You’re really letting me keep it?” Your eyes brighten. “But that’s such a boyfriend-thing to do, you know.”

“I know. Do you want it or not, Dork?”

“I want it!” you hiss at him. “But does that mean you don’t mind if we’re something more than just, uh, friends who fuck a lot?”

“You mean like dating?”

“That or, umm… Yeah that.” You shrink yourself in the hoodie. “Like, we can make tacos together and stuff.”

“We could do that,” Yoongi nods. “It’s actually been on my mind for a while now.”

“Mine too.” You throw your arms around the boy’s neck and send him off with a dozen kisses on the cheek.

[bow-down-im-your-queen-now]

Happy faces and Boy shorts

Prompt: Its all fun and games until someone accidentally burns the clubhouse down. Or in which the gang always knew Happy was serious in claiming you as his girl, but they didn't realize just how serious he was.

Paring: Happy Lowman x Reader

Fandom: Sons of anarchy

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: Language, Sexual situations, fire

A/N: I adore the characters from this show so i figured it was high time i wrote something! I know the fandom is smaller but i highly suggest checking out the show if you haven’t had the chance yet. Enjoy feed back is appreciated!

Standing in the parking lot of Teller-Morrow clad in only your underwear and a slightly over sized tee shirt at 6 am was not the ideal way you wanted to start your Sunday. Yet there you stood tired, pissy, and barely clothed.

“This sucks.” Was all you whined. Happy simply grunted in agreement.

The shrill sound of the fire alarm had stirred the clubhouse awake a while ago, a slight panic filled everyone as they jumped up more focused on quickly hiding any illegal paraphernalia rather than getting dressed.

“We good?” You mumbled to Happy as you watched the fire department enter the lot to tackle the growing fire. You could only imagine what he might have had laying around his room just ready to get him in trouble.

“Mhmm, don’t you worry girl.” Was all he rumble pulling you closer as the firefighters began to unload from the truck.

It wasn't that long before Gemma and Clay were pulling into the already crowded parking lot. Tig had been the one to call them not long after the fire started.

"Is everyone okay?" Gemma called out as she ran up, Clay in tow behind her.

"Yeah Gem, we're okay, everyone got out in time." You said as you walked towards her. She was quick to tightly embrace you squeezing hard. She held on to you for a while and you didn't have to see the boys to know they were rolling their eyes at her dramatics. She finally pulled away but still held you at arms length, looking at you closely as if trying to make sure you weren't lying. "Gemma I'm okay, we're all okay."

She purses her lips for a second before finally nodding and letting you go. Clay walked up behind her and gave you a quick hug. "Glad you're alright kid."

You smiled up at him and you all walked towards the rest of the group where Gemma attacked everyone lingering around with the same tight hug you had received.

"So what happened?" Clay finally said as he watched the firemen stream in and out of the building, the fire was mostly controlled from what you could tell.

"Fucking Chuck happened." Tig gripped from the other side of happy. "Decided he wanted to make everyone breakfast at the crack ass of dawn, set the kitchen on fire."

Clay sighed loudly bring a hand up to rub his temples. "Idiot."

"He better not have burned those damn hands I bought him." Gemma quipped.

A little while later one of the head firemen began to approach the group tentatively, obviously wary of the tattooed, half dressed, and sleep deprived bikers. Gemma had disappeared into the office and the rest of the men, Clay included seemed disinterested in hearing a lecture from the man about whatever fire hazards were in the building.

"Excuse me, is there someone I can talk to?" He called out as he approached.

Everyone in the group looked back and forth at one another, no one wants to bite the bullet and you finally sighed stepping forward.

"Yes, sir?" You walked to meet him halfway and the guys chuckled behind you.

The man began droning on about the cause of the fire and you did your best to keep a polite smile plastered across your face.

"Holy shit." Tig chuckles as he watched you. "Is that what I think it is?"

This drew the attention of the rest of the men and they followed his gaze to where you stood, back facing them. While listening to the man you had placed your hands on your hips, causing the shirt you wore to rise up without you realizing it.

There on your left ass cheek was a tattoo of a happy face. The top part was covered by your lacy black boyshorts but there was no denying what it was. All eyes turned to Happy shocked and slightly impressed.

"No fuckin way." Jax laughed and Chibs let out an impressed whistle.

"You do that to your girl, Happy?" Tig continued a huge smile stretched across his face.

Happy glared back at the men, pissed that they had been staring at your ass in the first place. He was silent for a second thinking over Tig's words and a smirk crossed his lips finally. "Oh hell yeah."

Laughter erupted from the men just as you finished talking with the firefighter and turned to walk back towards the group.

"Clay there is a laundry list of fire hazards that need to be fixed-" you cut yourself off as you took in all of their wide taunting smiles. "What?"

"Come here, baby." Happy called out reaching for you. Eyes narrowed and watching the men carefully you walked over to where Happy leaned against his bike. He turned you and pulled you between his open legs, your back resting again his chest. His hands moved to rest on your thighs possessively

"We like your ink ______." Jax finally snickered and you frowned for a second unsure of what he meant, knowing that the boys had already seen all of the tattoos that decorated your body. That was except for one. A flush crossed your cheeks and embarrassment filled you.

"Oh my god." Was all you could think to mutter and you could fell Happy's chest rumble with laughter. You jabbed an elbow back into him and more laughter was all that you were met with.

It was at this point Gemma came walking up, having caught just the tail end of the conversation.

"What's going on?"

"_____'s got a-" Tig started at the same time you rushed to say 'nothing'

Tig looked back amused and you sent him a stern look to hush but you knew his mouth would be running the moment you weren’t around. Gemma only rolled her eyes before calling Clay over presumably to talk about what to do next and you narrowed your eyes at the rest of the men daring them to say anything else. Of course, the towering man begins you was also a convincing reason for them to keep their mouths shut but the smirks didn’t leave their lips.

Happy finally patted your thighs motioning for you to move. You stood up from where you had been leaned back against him. He followed suit after you took a few steps away and rose to his towering height.

"I'm going to get dressed." You announced turning around to face him.

The damage has thankfully only been limited to the kitchen and was, considering the circumstances, fairly minimal. The fire department had finally green-lighted entering the building.

Happy only grunted in response, nodding and you smiled beginning to walk away.

You didn't get very far before you felt him being an open palm against your left ass cheek. A small squeal left you at the momentary sting that followed and you whirled around to glare at him although there was no heat in your gaze.

"What was that for?"

"Mine." Was his all he responded with bluntly. And you rolled your eyes at his stake of claim.

"You're barbaric, Lowman." You snorted, you ass still stinging and you knew a red mark was probably forming not that you really minded much. Although yet another flush filled your cheeks as you realized that the sharp sound had attracted everyone's attention.

"You love it." He grinned and a small smirk crossed your lips as you bit your lip and reached a hand out to him.

"You know it." You teased back and he looked at the open invitation you reached out to him.

He took it finally and pulled you closer, his voice lower when he spoke again.

"What's the matter, little girl? Need help getting dressed?" His voice was husk and eyes dark and you were thankful that he spoke low enough for only the two of you to hear.

"Something like that." You whispered back trying not to show how much his words affected you but he saw through it.

"After you." He finally said and you grinned pulling on his hand once more as you tugged him along with you. Happy stood from his bike and followed. A few wolf whistles filled the air as the guys watched the two of you walk away.

"Oh and let me catch any of you fuckers starring at my girl's ass again and I'll gut you." Happy turned around and called out.

You glanced back in time to see a majority of the guys throw their hands up in defense and you piped up once again.

"Aww come on Hap, can't blame them for enjoying the view." You joked shaking your hips for added effect. It was at that point that Happy let go of your hands and rushed towards you quickly. He scooped you up with ease and before you knew it you were thrown over his shoulder.

Apparently, It was going to be a good morning after all.

[noneya-business-me]

Aftershock

Kind of based off of a scene from Grey’s Anatomy that kind of stuck with me. 

Pairing: Kiribaku and kind of Iidabaku

Summary: Kirishima breaks up with Bakugou to which he decides to show him what he’s going to miss. 

“I can’t believe you actually convinced me to go to Mina’s stupid party.” Bakugou laughed, setting their food down on the table. 

“Yeah,” Kirishima replied quietly. 

“It should be fine though since you’re going to be there.” He added with a smile. 

“I think we should break up.” Kirishima stated with a grimace. 

The smile that Bakugou had on before fell slowly into hurt confusion. “What?” He asked softly.

They sat across from each other at the dining room table of the dorms eating a meal that Bakugou had made.

“I think we should break up.” Kirishima repeated, seeming more confident the second time. 

“Why?” Bakugou asked, the sadness clear in his voice, “I don��t understand.”

“I just don’t think this is going to work the way we wanted it to.” He replied, hesitantly looking down at his plate. 

“Did I do something?” Bakugou asked desperately, “What did I do?” 

Kirishima just stared at him with a sad expression. “Eiji please. Talk to me. Tell me how I can fix this.” 

“I’m sorry Bakugou.” He said, standing up from the table and walking out of the room leaving Bakugou to stare at him as he walked away. 

“What the fuck.” Bakugou sniffed, his head falling into his hands as she started to cry. 

He sucked in a stuttering breath as he picked up Kirishima’s plate and hurled it at the wall with a miserable yell. “You son of a bitch!” He yelled. 

He did the same with his own plate.

“Kacchan?”

Bakugou turned startled to the doorway of the kitchen. “What do you want?” He sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve, “did you come to laugh at me?”

Midoriya quickly shook his head in defence. “I would never do that!” He reasoned, “I just heard someone crying and I was worried.” 

Bakugou sniffed again, glancing at the mess around his feet before grabbing the broom from the closet. 

Midoriya watched him for a moment before stepping closer. “Is everything okay?” He asked softly. 

Bakugou stared at him for a second before returning his eyes to the ground as he swept up all the fragments from the plates. “Nothing is okay.” He hissed.

“What going on?” Midoriya pushed. 

Bakugou remained quiet as he shook the dustpan into the garbage. “Eiji broke up with me.” He replied, as tears rolled down his cheeks again, “and I don’t know why. He wouldn’t tell me.” 

“Kacchan, I’m sorry.” Midoriya said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Why? I had it coming.” Bakugou stated, “I’ve been an asshole my entire life, and when i finally found someone who liked me for the way I was it turned out he didn’t.”

He stared at Midoriya with narrowed eyes. “It’s exactly what I deserve.”

Midoriya stared at him in shock. “Kacchan, everyone deserves happiness.” He said. 

Bakugou stared back at him with equal shock before it seemed the dam broke completely. “I just don’t understand.” He cried, trying to wipe away the tears that fell from his eyes, “he didn’t say anything except ‘I’m sorry Bakugou’. He didn’t even call me by my name.” 

Midoriya suddenly grabbed him in a tight hug. “It’ll be okay Kacchan.” He soothed, “just breathe.”

Bakugou returned to his room shortly after, ignoring everyone until he stood in front of his door. He unlocked it slowly, and changed before curling up in his bed. He placed a hand on the wall that he shared with Kirishima with a forlorn expression. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt a lump grow in his throat again. A sob made its way past his lips again as he curled away from the wall to cry into his arms. 

He held his phone up to his ear, listening as the dial tone repeated itself a few times. “Hello?” His dad’s voice answered politely. 

“Hi dad.” Bakugou sniffed.

“Hi Kit Kat!” His dad replied overjoyed. “It’s been such a long time since you’ve called! How are you?”

“I really feel like shit right now.” He whispered. 

“What happened? What’s going on?” His dad said, suddenly alert. 

“Eijirou broke up with me.” He cried, “I want to go home. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Your mother and I are away for work but we’ll be back back tomorrow night. Do want us to come and get you for the weekend?” He quickly offered. 

“Yeah, please.” He sniffed, unconsciously nodding his head. 

He could hear his dad muttering to his mom on the other side before her voice cut in. “KATSUKI RUIN THAT MOTHER FUCKERS LIFE!” She yelled, “MAKE. HIM. REGRET. IT.”

“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?” He asked. 

“Your closet is packed with the best clothes and products that money can buy.” She replied, “you’re a model Katsuki. Show that asshole that he’s not even worthy of you.”

He sat up at her words, his eyes flicking to his closet before narrowing. “You’re a Bakugou, which means you’re at the top of the food chain.” She added.

“There’s a party tonight.” He stated, moving to his closet and throwing the doors open.

“Katsuki, don’t do anything crazy!” His father interjected.

“Turn that sadness into revenge!” His mother yelled. 

“If you’re going to do this Katsuki just do me a favour please.” His dad sighed.

“I won’t do anything crazy dad. I promise.” He replied.

“That’s not it Katsuki.” His dad stated, “punch Kirishima in the throat for me.” 

There was stunned silence before Mitsuki erupted in laughter. “I love you guys so much.” Bakugou said, pulling out some clothes from his closet, “I’ll call you later.” 

“Love you too!” They both called before he hung up.

‘Come to my room. We’re going to a party.’ He texted to Midoriya. 

It felt like 20 seconds before Midoriya was crashing into Bakugou’s dorm room. 

“What the hell do you mean a party?” He asked, concerned, “no offence but you were crying in the kitchen an hour ago.” 

“Yeah, but then I talked to my parents.” He replied. 

“Your mom?” He asked hesitantly. 

“Dad wants me to punch Kirishima in the throat for him.” 

“Well I guess we’re going to a party.” Midoriya sighed, “how do you even know he’s going to be there?”

“He’s going to be there.” He stated, laying the clothes on his bed and spraying them out, “it seems that he would break up with me but he would still be able to make his plans with his friends.”

“Can I borrow some clothes than?” Midoriya asked, “I’m not going to go as your plus one and show up looking like a wreck.”

Bakugou stared at him before shrugging with a snort. “This really has been the weirdest day.” He laughed, “knock yourself out.”

He grabbed a pair of black heeled boots and setting them with the clothes he already picked out. “I remember those.” Midoriya said, shuffling the hangers around, “you did a photoshoot with them right?” 

Bakugou nodded, as he started to style his hair. “Yeah, they were a gift. I think they’re my favourite.” 

“Who are they from?” 

“Look at the bottoms.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Midoriya deadpanned, lifting them to see red soles, “aren’t these like a thousand dollars?” 

“Only the best for me.” He chuckled, spraying hairspray in his hair. 

“Holy shit, these are incredible.” Midoriya gasped, pulling out a pair of dark red suede dress shoes.

“Really? Out of all the shoes in the closet you choose the ones that mostly resemble the ones you already have?” Bakugou sighed, “take them. They’re not really my style anyways.”

“You’re like Ellen.” 

“Shut up and get dressed.” 

“I don’t know what to wear though.” Midoriya whined. 

“I’ll help you Jesus.” Bakugou sighed, “Just let me finish my eyeliner.” 

Midoriya watched him for a second before crossing his arms. “Why me?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” Bakugou replied. 

“I mean you have friends that you’re closer to than me.” 

“You were the one that came a checked on me.” Bakugou replied, putting down his eyeliner pen and checking it over in his mirror, “I know there was people sitting in the common room who weren’t there when I left. I’m not stupid I know that I’m not the approachable but still I consider you a friend above a lot of people.”

He turned to look at him with a small smile, “and besides between you, me, and All Might I think we’re a lot closer than we have been in a long time.”

“Awwww Kacchan! You do care!” Midoriya cooed, grabbing him in a hug. 

“Okay, Jesus. We need to get you an outfit.” He wheezed, tapping him on the back.

He stepped back from him, glancing him over. “I hate to admit it, but you’re a lot bigger than me now.” He sighed, “you’re really starting to look like All Might.” 

He riffled to the back of his closet where he pulled out a garment box. “Try this on.” He said, holding out a black button down to him, “and these.”

He was soon standing in the black button down tucked into dark wash blue jeans. “Roll the sleeves up.” Bakugou added with a finger on his chin thoughtfully. 

He grabbed a gold collar chain, pinning it in place. “There that’s perfect.” He said, “now you look decent.”

“Just to clarify this isn’t some rebound things right?” Midoriya asked, smoothing out his shirt, “because I really don’t feel that way about you Kacchan.” 

“God no you idiot.” Bakugou replied, rolling his eyes, “this is like GBF thing. You’re supporting me in my ‘fuck you I’m hotter without you’ revenge plot.”

“When does Mina’s party start?” He asked, “shouldn’t you get dressed?”

“I’m doing that right now.” He replied, throwing off his clothes.

He wore a pair of fish net leggings under a pair of ripped light wash jeans cuffed at the ankle with the black heeled boots. On top he wore a loose long sleeved crop top. 

“Geez you really do have a tiny waist.” Midoriya gasped.

“Yeah, I know.” He chucked, “ready to go?”

“Yep!” Midoriya responded, as they wrapped an arm around each other, “let’s go kill this fucker.”

***

“The party started half an hour ago where is Bakugou?” Mina whined, “why isn’t he with you?” “I’ll tell you later Mina.” Kirishima replied, taking a drink from his cup. 

“What’s going on?” Kaminari asked, already slightly tipsy. “You don’t look too happy.”

“Look, I’ll tell you guys l-“

“Holy shit.” Sero said, hitting him in the shoulder and motioning to the door.

“What?” 

His eyes widened in dumb shock as Bakugou and Midoriya walked in together. “Holy crap he looks hot.” Mina gasped. 

“I’ve never seen those clothes before.” Kirishima muttered. 

“Hey Blastly what do you want to drink?” Mina asked running up to him. “It’s about time you showed up. Your boyfriends been here forever.” 

Midoriya flinched, “lets get drinks Kacchan.” He said nervously, “God knows we’ll need it.” 

Bakugou nodded as he lead him away but not before sending a meaningful stare at Kirishima. 

Kirishima downed another shot and slammed it down on the table. “what the fuck was that?” Kaminari asked. 

“Leave it alone for right now.” Kirishima growled with a frown.

The pair made their way over to Midoriya’s friend group. “Hey guys.” Midoriya greeted. 

They gave their greetings before focusing on Bakugou. “Whoa Bakugou you look amazing!” Uraraka said with a smile. 

“Thanks.”

*** 

Regardless of the sadness that Bakugou had been feeling he was actually having a lot of fun. Midoriya’s friends were actually pretty cool and fun to be around. “Honestly, it’s not the type of clothing I would ever imagine you to wear outside of school.” Iida commented. 

Bakugou shrugged taking another sip of his drink. “I really like fashion because of my parents.”

He leaned over into Midoriya who raised his arm to lay it across his shoulders. “I do a lot of modelling still and runways so I have a lot of presents from the designers.” 

“That’s crazy, I heard designers have really specific and crazy standards for models.” Uraraka commented. 

“I’m pretty lucky honestly. I was blessed with a freaking amazing body.” He scoffed.

The group snorted. “I’m serious.” He deadpanned. 

“It’s true.” Midoriya added, “show them the waist.” 

He promptly stood lifting the crop top up a little. “Holy shit how did I not notice that?” Uraraka asked, “It looks like someone could wrap their hands all the way around you.” 

“I bet the Prez could.” He shrugged, glancing at him.

Iida who was already multiple drinks in shrugged with a smirk. “I’ll try it if I have your consent Bakugou.” He said.

“I’d like to see you try.” Bakugou challenged, sending another glance to Kirishima who was watching them intently much to the confusion of the ‘Bakusquad’.

Iida stood up from the couch and stood in front of him already reaching out his hands. HIs hands were warm on him as they rested on either side of his waist and squeezed a bit before the tips of his fingers touched each other. “That was almost too easy.” Iida commented, staring in wonder.

“I told you,” Bakugou purred, “model body.” 

“He what?!” He suddenly heard from across the room before Midoriya was in front of them blocking a high heel from hitting him. 

“What the fuck?!” He yelled, as Kirishima stormed over to him with Mina, Kaminari, and Sero in tow. 

“Are you serious?!” Kirishima hissed, “First you come in all over Midoriya and then you have Iida’s hands all over you?” 

He motioned to the both of them. “One guy isn’t enough for you? Are you giving yourself out to everyone?” 

“Excuse me?” Bakugou snapped, “Are you serious? It’s none of your fucking business anyways.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Mina cut in, “why would you even show up?”

“Not only that but you break up with him and then come here dressed like some kind of slut.” Kaminari added. 

Bakugou froze as Midoriya and Iida took a step forward. “That’s highly uncalled for.” Iida growled.

“Where the hell do you get off saying that?” Midoriya added, gritting his teeth. 

The two stood taller and broader than most of the class. “What did you do Bakugou?” Sero taunted, “you break up with Kirishima and immediately run to these two or were you already going at it before?”

“Are. You. Fucked?!” Bakugou finally screamed, “are you seriously going to let them spew that bullshit at me?!”

His shouldered his way over in front of Kirishima. “Are you going to actually stand there while they continue to believe that I broke up with YOU?”

Kirishima’s enraged expression from before fell before his eyes stared at the ground. “Shit.” Mina whispered to the side of them. 

“You are such a fucking dick.” Bakugou hissed, “you don’t get to break up with me without even an explanation and then get your pack of assholes to call me a whore. That’s just fucking cruel.” 

The three looked at them in shock and guilt. “I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with you.” Bakugou spat as a tear rolled down his cheek. 

“Katsuki I’m sorry.” Kirishima said still looking at the ground. 

“At least look at me when you’re saying that.” Bakugou hissed, sadness still evident in his expression. 

Kirishima looked up at him with extreme guilt. “Am I ever going to get an explanation?” Bakugou whispered.

Kirishima stayed silent. “Fine.” He snapped, turning away from the group. 

“Can I escort you back?” Iida asked hesitantly.

“That would be great.” Bakugou sighed with a small smile, wiping his face carefully. 

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Bakugou said, turning back around. “My dad wanted me to give you a present from him.” 

He stared at him for a second before punching him in the throat. 

[witchymarvelspacecase]

Zero to Quicksilver: Pt. 3

Summary: Pietro x Reader. Reader is a driver/chauffeur… during the day at least. The Avengers are visiting the area she calls home and reader is hired as their escort. What could happen when they find themselves in the back seat of her car?

Word Count: 2064

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of a bad relationship, mentions of past injury

A/N: So I’ve been off the radar for a while, I am really sorry about that. I would like to promise that it won’t happen again, but I can’t actually do that…

   The string of curse words that ran through your mind would have put a drunken sailor to shame; nothing but an angry growl left your lips though. Pietro, who had been standing close to you, was suddenly right behind you, his body stiff. He didn’t speak, but you could feel his body heat seeping into your back, it was an unexpected comfort.

   You met Jackson’s gaze, but you didn’t respond, you could feel your stomach turning over. For a moment, no one spoke.

   “Don’t be like that Y/N. I just asked a simple question,” Jackson said. If you hadn’t known better, his tone of voice and posture would probably have fooled you into believing he was the uncomfortable, embarrassed maybe, but you knew. You knew just how good of an actor Jackson had become.

   “A question that you have no right to ask, and one I choose not to answer,” you replied, tone icly calm, despite the tremor you could feel in your body. Mostly, your reaction was anger, but there was a little part of you, one that you denied for the most part, that was afraid.

   “Aw, sugar-”

   “Not your ‘sugar’,” you cut Jackson off before he could continue. There was nothing he could possibly have to say that you would want or need to hear. “Now, I’m not sure why the fuck you’re here, and I don’t really give a shit. Get. Lost.”

   When he opened his mouth to speak again, you said, “I thought I made myself clear. I do not want to see, hear, or speak to you. Go. Away.” You crossed your arms and planted you feet shoulder width apart.

   “Y/N-” Jackson started, but this time Pietro cut him off.

   “She told you to leave. I suggest you do so.” He didn’t raise his voice, but there was menace in his tone.

   Jackson put his hands up in what should have been a placating gesture, but from him, it looked mocking.

   “I just came to talk, but I can see I’m not welcome. I’ll come back and see ya later when you’re not… involved.”

   “Don’t bother,” you growled, “you won’t ever be welcome here.”

   Jackson’s eyes narrowed, and a worrying grin spread across his lips. “Whatever you say, Y/N.” He left after saying that, but you didn’t feel any better.

   You could feel your body tremble slightly as the supply of adrenaline started to wane, and you jumped when you felt Pietro put his hands on your upper arms.

   “Hey,” he said in a calming tone. When had he moved in front of you? Why did it seem like he’d been calling you for a while?

   Taking a deep breath, you met his eyes. Where there was usually a spark of mischief and humor in the grey-blue, there was only a steel edge. His grip was gentle on your biceps, but he didn’t seem likely to release you anytime soon. You uncrossed your arms, slowly, and shifted them so you could rest your hands on Pietro’s forearms.

   Speaking lightly, you answered him. “I’m okay.”

   “Really?” he said, disbelievingly.

   A humorless chuckle passed your lips. “Yeah, this is nothing new.”

   “Is that supposed to make me worry less?” Pietro asked, eyebrows raised. After a pause he added, “He is why you had your door closed.” He hadn’t phrased it like a question, but you nodded anyway.

   “I’d hoped not to have to deal with him like this, but he’s been hanging around a lot lately.”

   “Who is he?” Pietro asked.

   You let out a deep sigh, resting a bit of your weight on Pietro’s arms. “Ex-boyfriend.”

   “I’m guessing the relationship didn’t end well.”

   “That would be an understatement. You remember me telling you my brother got into bad shit? The shit that got me beat up?” At Pietro’s nod, you continued, “The asshole you just saw leave was the leader of the gang of said bad shit. I didn’t know ‘til later. Fucker had the gall to visit me in the hospital, as if he hadn’t been involved.” That still stung. When you had found out about a month after leaving the hospital, it had all but punched your chest in. You had trusted Jackson, had feelings for him, and he had participated in, had orchestrated your beating.

   Pietro’s grip tightened. “How dangerous is he to you?”

   PIetro was a lot calmer than you’d expected, or at least, he seemed calm. Of course, you couldn’t hear him practically grinding his teeth, and you couldn’t see the thoughts running through his head; the least violent of which involved calling the rest of the Avengers.

   “I’m not sure. Usually, I would say, ‘not very’; I carry a gun, and have no issue using it, but he’s been more persistent lately, and I’m not really sure why.”

   “And you live alone, with no close neighbors, and work in a shady part of town,” Pietro completed.

   “Hey, watch what you’re calling ‘shady’. I grew up here,” you joked.

   “Y/N, have you looked around yourself lately?”

   “Yeah, I know how it looks, but I’m safe here.”

   “He walked right in, Y/N.”

   Pietro’s mind was spinning. All he could think was that he was too far away. If something happened to you, he wasn’t going to be able to protect you.

   “Look, he’s an angry bastard, and I don’t like dealing with him, but I’ve got this.”

   “Yes, but-”

   “No ‘but’s,” you said, shrugging out of his hold, “I was hoping you wouldn’t even find out about him, cause I figured you’d get all weird about it. I don’t need your help.” You wrapped out arms around yourself as you backed away slightly.

   You had a feeling this would happen. Pietro was gonna start taking over, assuming you couldn’t handle your own shit. Fuck that. You were more than capable of taking care of yourself, you knew that. You had dealt with plenty of worse things in your life, but for some reason, even though you’d expected it to happen, Pietro starting to act all domineering hurt.

   “Hey,” Pietro said sternly. He’d moved so that he had you cornered; you wouldn’t be able to get around him easily. He held his hands up and spoke again. “I’m not saying you need my help. For fuck’s sake, within an hour of meeting you, you’d already saved not only my ass, but Stark’s, Rhodes’, and Romanoff’’s as well. I just want you to know that you have backup, if you want it.”

   It took a moment for what Pietro said to sink in. Even then, you struggled to respond.

   “I- uh. Thanks,” you stuttered.

   Pietro chucked a little and dropped his hands, “You’re welcome, înger.”

…

   You cleaned up your workshop pretty quickly, not particularly wanting to stay in the garage anymore. Locking up behind you, you and Pietro decided to head to your house. Once you got there, you reheated some leftover lasagna you’d made the night before, and offered some to Pietro, along with a beer.

   The conversation was almost as comfortable as usual, as if Jackson hadn’t shown his ugly face, but as the night drew on, as Pietro was preparing to leave, you saw him tense.

   He cleared his throat, “So, I don’t want to make you feel like I’m interfering, but are you sure you’re safe? I don’t want to leave you alone if you’re not comfortable.”

   You almost rolled your eyes. “I’m fine, Piet. There’s a race coming up out of town, so I’m leaving soon anyway.”

   “Where’s the race?” he asked.

   You cocked an eyebrow, ready to nag Pietro for getting too involved, but he laughed. “The rest of the team still wants to see you drive. If it’s close enough, we can probably even get the Captain out to see.” Pietro’s smile was bright, and at least 50% honest. You narrowed your eyes.

   “I was actually hoping you’d visit before I left; the race is in New York.”

   Pietro’s smile grew, and he was practically vibrating on the spot, though knowing him, he may actually have been moving fast enough to appear that way.

   “That’s wonderful,” he cheered, “now everyone will be able to see you drive!”

   You laughed lightly and shook your head. “Ya know, I can’t imagine Captain America being all that interested in the illegal street racing scene.” The image of him standing amongst the crowds of people that usually populated the races was enough to make you laugh.

   “He’s surprisingly laid back when it comes to the law. As long as you’re not hurting anyone, he probably won’t have a problem with it. Actually,” Pietro added on a laugh, “I think Barnes and Wilson will especially like you, so the Captain won’t really have a choice.”

   You snorted inelegantly, leaning back against your kitchen counter.

   “When are you going to be leaving for New York? Where are you staying?”

   “I was gonna leave in three days, and I was getting an airBnB.”

   Pietro did start vibrating then. You could see him blurring just a little bit as if he couldn’t contain himself. “You can come stay with me. I mean with the team. There’s plenty of room and I’m sure Stark would be happy to have you.”

   “But, I-”

   “He’s been trying to think of a way to repay you since the incident. He hasn’t come up with the right gift yet.”

   “He knows he doesn’t have to, right? I told him about a million times,” anxiety creeped into your voice as you asked. You didn’t want anyone to feel like they owed you anything.

   Pietro chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t think he listened. He’s Tony Stark; he’s gonna do what he wants.”

   “You’re right,” you nodded. “I guess I hadn’t really thought about that. He doesn’t hear ‘no’ a lot does he?”

   “Only from Ms. Potts really. The team tries, but I think Ms. Potts is the only one he listens to.” Pietro shot you a smile. “He’s a little tough to get used to.”

   “Says the human blur,” you snarked, nudging his shoulder. He made a face in response. “Did you just stick out your tongue at me?” you asked in disbelief, hands on your hips.

   “So what if I did, înger?” Pietro responded, mirroring your stance, but closing the distance between you so that he was only a few inches away. With your butt still against your counter, there wasn’t much space for you to move.

   “I’d say you shouldn’t stick it out unless you wanna share it,” you joked without thinking. What a time for inappropriate things to come out of your mouth.

   Your face was already pink and cringing when Pietro spoke. “Oh? And how do you know I don’t want to share, prețios?”

   Well that wasn’t the response you were expecting, You’d expected him to be uncomfortable, not play into it. You could feel your cheeks reddening, but you didn’t back down, though you did move your arms to cross your chest.

   Clearing your suddenly dry throat, you said, “You seem to like trapping me, Pietro.”

   Pietro’s voice was low when he responded. ‘You’re not trapped, bibic. I know you can get away. I’m just slowing you down, so that I can catch you.” He came even closer then, smiling mischievously, as he practically pressed his lips to your ear before saying, “We’ll have to test my ‘trap’ later. Maybe then I can show you how much I like to share.” A barely-there kiss was pressed to your neck, just below your ear, and before you could draw breath, he was gone.

   Your heart was racing again, but for a very different reason. You were going to have to look up those words he was using. You couldn’t understand them, but had a feeling they were important. Your phone buzzing startled you, but a goofy smile spread across your lips when you read the message.

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