#I screamed profanities for 15 minutes straight

[superellysan]

It has been almost a year and a half since I’ve seen Private Eye Requiem (I think) and I am still livid at myself that I saw all the discrepancies and didn’t get the twist until the paint-covered wristband came out.

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Nemesis: Reformation (1)

Summary: Frank Castle didn’t expect to end up in a HYDRA base when he followed a lead intended for the syndicates. He also didn’t expect to find you barely conscious and tortured within an inch of your life. His decision to save you at that moment led you to spend the next ten years rebuilding yourself from the ashes of your former life. Frank Castle, Billy Russo, and Matt Murdock aid you in your quest for retribution until your old life catches up with you.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. explicit descriptions of trauma and torture, mentions of character death/s, angst, polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language

A/N: PART TWO OF THE TRILOGY IS HERE! Just in case it’s not clear yet, Reformation tells the story after Nemesis sacrifices herself to save Bucky and before she reunites with the Avengers. This is the missing 10 years in between that spent with our 3 wonderful Netflix men. Bear with me while we establish a few things before we run straight into the hurricane.

Much thanks as always to @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​​ for beta reading, the chapter title, and for her great insight into these characters. All mistakes are mine.

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

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2:1 Mashed Potatoes

Shit. Fuck. Goddamn it.

A slew of profanities was running laps in Frank Castle’s mind as he quietly turned the corners in a darkened base he just then realized he should have no business being in. He was following a lead on one of the syndicates after whispers reached him of a possible new drug being developed that was ten times more potent than the cocaine they were already known for. He wasn’t expecting to be led straight into a Hydra base.

Hydra was way above his pay grade and while his reputation as the Punisher was by no means an exaggeration, he wasn’t about to pick a fight with them outmanned and outgunned. Billy would argue that he was reckless, but he wasn’t an idiot. He decided to only risk 15 minutes, a nagging feeling in his gut telling him to stick around. He would find any information he could within that window and keep himself undetected. After that he would high tail it out of there.

The surprises just kept coming.

He kept low and stuck to the shadows, his steps consciously made lighter and his rifle close to his chest at the ready. He ended up in what looked like a large laboratory, messy and haphazardly setup but the beeping equipment let him know that this was a heavily used room. He ducked behind large crates at the sound of several voices ahead of him. Peaking around the corner, he saw several men standing huddled with their backs to him. One of them he recognized as the man from the syndicates he was tailing.

His better judgement screamed at him to get the hell out of there while he still had the chance, but one of the men stepped to the side revealing the one thing that threw all his logical reasoning out the window.

A captive.

You were made to sit on a steel chair, hands and legs bound though your body was limp and your head was lolled to the side. One of them gripped your chin tight and made you look at him, your hair matted with blood and sticking to your bruised face. The weak fluttering of your eyelashes was the only sign that you were still alive, barely any strength left to even open your eyes.

The tactical suit you were wearing was torn to shreds with barely any scraps left covering your blood-drenched body, revealing to him all the deep injuries inflicted on you that were obviously repeatedly aggravated and kept open. Frank knew torture when he saw it and he knew you had no fight left in you.

“What are your orders, Sir? We need to move again soon.” one of them asked the one clutching your face.

“We have no more use for her.” He turned your face from side to side, sneering down at you. “Kill her.”

“Goddamn it,” he mumbled under his breath.

Frank decided quickly.

The first shot he fired hit the man holding you at the back of his head. He fell to the floor with a loud thud and caused the other three to turn to him startled. The room was filled with the sound of loud gunfire and the blaring alarms soon rang in his ears. He steeled himself and aimed his gun precisely at the remaining men, rushing over to you the moment they dropped dead.

He hurriedly ripped at the ropes restraining you, your body falling onto his without the support. He hoisted your body up by the waist, your body nearly falling to the ground from the battering it endured. He grunted as you suddenly started struggling in his hold, kicking and punching at him weakly but with more strength than he expected from someone who looked a breath away from death.

“Let me go, you bastards,” you slurred with another kick at his shin, your hazy brain assuming he was one of your captors.

Frank couldn’t help the small smirk that crept up on his face. He was happy to be proven wrong. You still had some fight left in you. He took the butt of his gun and swiftly hit the back of your head, knocking you unconscious.

Frank Castle barging through the front doors of Anvil beaten and bathed in crimson was not a strange occurrence, expected even. Coming through carrying an unconscious and horrifyingly injured woman in his arms was, oddly enough, also not strange. Still, it alarmed his friends all the same. Billy Russo and Curtis Hoyle jumped to their feet, chairs scraping against the floor and drinks immediately forgotten.

“What the hell, Frank?” Curtis asked urgently, following the other man as he charged into the facility’s medical room.

“I’ll explain later. I need you to help her, Curt.”

Billy was quicker to fall in line than Curtis, his trust in his best friend prompting him to pull out the only surgical bed they had to lay you on. You were a grisly sight and Frank ripping your clothes off to reveal the full extent of your injuries made even the Marines wince.

“She needs a hospital!” Curtis protested even as he began pulling out supplies.

“Hydra was about to off her when I got there.”

“Hydra?” Even Billy was starting to hesitate, his hand nervously running through his hair. “Why the hell are you messing with Hydra, Frankie?”

“Bad lead,” he growled.

Any further discussion was interrupted by you convulsing, your body finally giving in to the shock of extensive torture. Curses flew around the room as the three men scrambled to stabilize you; one dousing you with antiseptic, another pressing on your gaping wounds to keep you from further bleeding out, and the last frantically employing every last piece of medical knowledge he had on you.

It took hours to get you to a point where Curtis was half confident you weren’t going to just drop dead in the middle of the night. By the end of it they themselves looked like they had been through a war; clothes drenched in your life force, sweat dripping down their backs, breathing heavy and ragged. The stench of death still hung in the air as the three men slumped on the floor exhausted.

“So who’s the pretty girl, Frankie?”

Frank chuckled and shook his head, a tired smile of amusement curving the corner of his lips at the question. He didn’t bother denying it. “You planning to put the moves on an unconscious girl, Bill? At least give her a chance to say no.”

Billy scoffed and lightly punched the other man’s arm, recognizing that he was trying to make light of an obviously bad situation. He stared at your immobile figure, strapped to breathing tubes and hooked to multiple machines as he ran a hand through his already messed up hair. You were covered in bandages, the evidence of your ordeal more apparent now after they had cleaned you up as best they could.

“I’m serious, Frankie. Did you see the emblem on her suit?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s an Avenger.”

“Looks like it.” Frank scratched at the stubble on his chin and shook his head. “You think I should have just left her there?”

“No,” Billy said immediately. There was no doubt that Frank did the right thing by pulling you out. “I’m just worried about what kind of trouble my best friend brought home this time.”

“I thought Billy Russo liked trouble?” Frank teased. The smile on Billy’s face as he stared at you again was boyish.

Yeah, he liked trouble.

It was four days later when you surfaced from the induced coma they put you under to help you heal. Your whole body felt like lead and even wiggling your fingers was a chore. You tried to move your head and your eyes struggled to open. The panic was creeping in your chest at the feeling of being completely out of control of your own body.

“Stop movin’ around so much.”

The command was firm and delivered in a low gravelly voice that should have made you feel immediately threatened, but strangely enough calmed your pounding heart. You tried to talk, but the coarseness in your throat felt like you swallowed broken glass.

“Goddamn it, just stop for a minute.”

You heard his heavy approaching footsteps before you felt strong arms wrap around your shoulders, lifting you to prop you up against the pillows. You whimpered from the ache in your body as you tried to open your eyes again. When you broke through the blurring of your vision, the face that greeted you took you by surprise.

He was handsome even with the fading bruises and healing cuts on his face. He was wide and built like a tank, apparent even underneath the loose casual clothes he wore. Everything about him was intimidating. You should be intimidated.

But his eyes were kind.

A part of you was certain he had never been called this before and he would surely think you had lost your mind, but he looked like an angel to you. You had always pictured angels as warriors, winged weapons of deliverance. That was what you saw in front of you; a ruthless soldier with kind eyes that had a permanent veil of deep pain that you somehow related to.

Wordlessly he held a glass of water in front of you, the plastic straw pressing on your cracked lips. He reminded you to drink slowly and patiently waited until you finished. You knew that you should be more on your guard, having woken up in another unfamiliar place with a stranger watching over you. Last time that happened it was a prelude to months of torture, but something about him made you feel safe for the first time in so long.

“You’re not Hydra,” you rasped, wincing slightly at the persistent pain in your throat. He was just as surprised as you that you were coherent enough upon waking to put two and two together.

Frank nodded. “And you’re an Avenger.”

“Not really,” you snorted, the bitterness seeping into your expression before a somber sadness settled in.

Frank recognized the defensive show of strength and he admired you for it. Though he could see that you weren’t hostile, he recognized that you were still partly on your guard despite your basically defenseless state. That meant you were smart. Good.

“I’m Frank,” he offered.

You regarded him for a long time before deciding to give him your name. He nodded again as an awkward silence stretched on between you until you decided to break it.

“Thank you, Frank.”

He gave you a small smile and reached over to pat the edge of your bed. He had a million questions he wanted to ask you, top of the list was how the hell you ended up half dead in a Hydra base but the haunted look on your face held him back.

“Rest some more. I’ll check on you later and bring you some food.” He stood to leave the room, but before he could walk out the door your small and hesitant voice stopped him.

“They killed my sister,” you said in almost a whisper, the struggle was clear in your tone. “They made me watch.”

After you managed to force out your first words, the rest just came tumbling out. You’re not sure exactly what compelled you, but you found yourself spilling your whole story to Frank. Maybe it was the exhaustion of having to resist under torture or maybe it was the drugs still swimming in your system. Maybe it was the months in isolation with no one to talk to, no one to cry to. Maybe it was the countless times you begged in your mind for anyone to find and save you as your tormentors tore through your skin over and over.

Whatever it was, by the end of it you were sobbing quietly as you stared blankly up at the ceiling. Your cries didn’t come in racking heaves; you were much too tired for that. They simply ran down your face and left a burning ache in your chest. Frank was rooted to his spot as you told your story, standing just beside your cot with gritted teeth and eyes that had turned murderous. He was looking anywhere but at you.

“You are an Avenger,” he growled lowly. “If what you did isn’t hero shit then I don’t know what is.”

It was strange to find comfort and validation from a man you had just met, but has already done so much for you when the very people he was insisting you were on par with had torn you down so completely.

At least one of them did.

You swallowed hard as you tried to reign in the weight of the emotions all at once hitting you like a truck. The salty tears had seeped into the bandages near your face and the wounds beneath were starting to sting. Frank assured you that you could lay low there and heal for as long as you needed to. He left you shortly after and as you drifted off to a dreamless sleep, you wondered what you would do once you were fully recovered. Would you return to your old life?

Was there even anything to return to?

It would be another week before Frank introduced you to Billy and Curtis. He didn’t want to overwhelm you so he had taken on the role of temporary caretaker during that time, patiently checking over your injuries and bringing you whatever you needed. When the other two Marines walked into your room for the first time, you practically cowered behind Frank.

He sat on the chair next to your bed, trying to look at you with reassurance and allowing you to grip onto his arm. Curtis introduced himself first and saw you flinch when he raised a hand in a friendly wave. He expected you to have PTSD just from the amount of injuries you had and he recognized it now in your reactions. He was quick to tell you of his counseling group and to offer you separate sessions should you feel up to talking.

Billy though was either oblivious or completely undeterred by your discomfort, stepping closer to you with that cocky smirk on his face. Your grip on Frank’s arm tightened and he shot a warning look at his best friend. You were the weariest of Billy. The almost analytical curiosity in his dark eyes as he watched you made you feel uneasy. You knew his kind, a charmer with a way with words.

“I’m Billy. I hope you’re getting everything you need in my facility.”

Frank had told you that it was a harried group effort from all three of them that brought you back from the brink of death. He also told you that you were essentially living under Billy’s roof. You were truly grateful, but just like with Frank you didn’t know exactly what prompted you to react a certain way to Billy. Maybe it was the meticulously smooth swoop of his hair or how his suit was perfectly tailored to his body. Maybe his ridiculously pretty face just simply unsettled you.

“I’ve had better service at a McDonald’s.”

Frank barked out a short laugh, unable to stop the reaction from your unexpected comment. Curtis, the big man that he was, desperately tried to stifle his giggling. Neither had ever seen a woman who didn’t immediately fawn over their friend. There was just something magnetic and compelling about Billy that attracted people. That made your reaction unusually refreshing and surprisingly caused Billy to grin cheekily at you after the initial shock had worn off.

“We can’t have that now can we, pretty girl?”

It sounded like a threat.

Despite the less than warm first impressions, you did manage to mutter a small thanks before they left your room. Surely they were good men for helping you, but more than that you trusted Frank. 

He had grown protective of you, having been the one who found you he now felt like he was responsible for you. Behind that and the gratitude you felt, a friendship had developed between you and the usually gruff soldier. He never left you completely alone with Billy and Curtis. He also refused to tell them your story, always saying that it wasn’t his to tell. You would tell them when you were ready and only if you wanted to.

He didn’t expect you to tell him you were ready to leave so soon after only a couple of months of recovery. He stared at you with his mouth slightly open over the pizza you were sharing. After a long pause, he slowly started to chew again as he mulled over your words. Billy sat next to him, shaking his head and chuckling as he finished a slice before tossing the crust into the box.

“Sick of us already, pretty girl?” he teased.

“Can’t leech off you forever, Russo.”

“I’m not complaining. You can repay me somehow,” he winked.

You snorted. You were still mostly uncomfortable around Billy, but during your time there you had gotten to know him quite a bit at his insistence. You knew by now what he was saying behind his increasingly flirtatious comments. You didn’t have to leave. No one was making you leave.

“Something Curtis said yesterday stuck with me.”

“What did that idiot say?” Frank chuckled.

You gave him a small smile in return, enjoying their brotherly jabs at each other. “He said I shouldn’t just choose a path. He said I should make one. I can’t make my own path if I don’t even know where I wanna go, Frank.”

He studied you again, saw the determined set of your shoulders despite the fear flitting across your eyes. He didn’t like it. He didn’t think you were ready and he didn’t think it was a good idea. He had a bad feeling in his gut. 

“Okay.”

Billy was surprised at Frank’s agreement since he shared the same hesitations he had about this. He’s only gathered bits and pieces of your story from overhearing your conversations and by observing you, but he knew enough to know that this was a big decision you made. He sighed.

“Fine. I’ll drive.” 

They should have listened to their gut.

Your first stop was to see Jill. She was technically your only family left and you felt guilt weigh heavily on you for not checking on her sooner. She loved Lily as much as you did and you were feeling nervous. You didn’t know what you would say to her. What exactly do you say to someone after you got the love of their life murdered?

You expected your sister’s death to destroy her and for her to be resentful of you. You expected the anger. You wanted it even. You believed you deserved it. Why were you allowed to survive while Lily hadn’t? You didn’t expect to see an utterly broken person sobbing over your gravestone.

It didn’t even register with you until that moment that people thought you died too. It didn’t hit you until you saw the names on the gravestones, yours and Lily’s side by side. Jill had always been the steady cheerful presence in your lives, calm even in a crisis. You barely recognized the shell of a woman in front of you; eyes blank save for the overwhelming grief, face gaunt and lacking its usual color, and harsh words of denial spilling freely from her lips. Months after your deaths, she still couldn’t fathom the thought of you both gone.

What could you say? 

There were no words. So you turned around and walked away before she could see you, the cold wind carried the sound of her crying as you left. Frank had stood beside you as you watched Jill and he saw how your whole body went rigid at the sight. He didn’t stop you when you retreated. He didn’t say a word as he followed you back to where Billy was waiting by the car. He halted only when he felt you tug weakly on his arm.

“I’m going to kill him, Frank,” you said, voice low and ominous. He noticed your grip tighten as your fist started to shake. “I’m going to kill all of them.”

“No.”

He knew that look. He knew that fury intimately. If he was being honest, he was actually surprised that you hadn’t made this decision when you first opened your eyes. If you had made it then, maybe he would have just let you but not now after he’s gotten to know you. You were too soft and kind for the self-destructive task you wanted to take on. There was good still in you and there was hope for a life beyond all you were put through. He knew there was no turning back once you started on this path. 

He knew.

“This isn’t the path you wanna make for yourself. Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t want this.”

You gritted your teeth and glared up at him. He knew that look too. It was the same one he had when his mind was made up and there was no stopping him. You weren’t asking for permission. This was happening whether he was going to get on board or not.

“You sure?”

You nodded. He groaned and ran his hand across his face as he made his decision.

“Fine. You’re going to start training with Billy and me.”

“I didn’t ask for your help, Frank.”

“Well you’re still getting it,” he said firmly as he started walking back to the car, Billy raising an eyebrow at your approach. “And you’re going to counseling with Curtis.”

You started to protest as you caught up to him, but he just held up a hand to shut you up. If you were really going to do this, then he was going to make damn sure that you were prepared and had backup.

He really should have listened to his gut.

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[2ynjns]

cat in a trap || lee minho

day 3 of 31 days of christmas

pairings: lee know x reader

genre: fluff

warning: just soonie, doongie and dori and profanity.

you angrily stomped on across the hallway walking towards your apartment door since you had a bad day at school. you had an argument with your project partner, han jisung, because he was slacking and you caught him chatting with his friends instead of revising your project together, which is due tonight at 12 am.

you scratched your head and unlocked your door and was mentally ready to spend at all-nighter for the project, you also planned on excluding jisung’s name from your project when you turn it in.

“gosh, university is so fucking complicated.” you muttered to yourself and opened the door wide open.

you threw your backpack across the living room and threw your shoes to the side, and doing the same with your coat. without looking, you kicked the door close behind you and unlocking it while you put on your house slippers.

you walked straight to your kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee at 6 pm, preparing your physical body, to stay up and murmuring positivity to yourself to emotionally and mentally prepare your brain.

letting out a deep sigh, you closed your fist and hit the counter. “GODDAMN YOU HAN FUCKING JISUNG.” you screamed on top of your lungs. you took out your phone and opened your messages.

fuck you, you typed and pressed send. sending the message to jisung.

after making the perfect coffee for yourself, you sat on your dining chair and reached for your laptop. opening 3 tabs for your research project.

you admired your christmas tree that you put up by yourself in your living room before starting on your project to suck in positive christmas energy before your pessimism kicks in again. “good luck to me.” you said and paid your full attention to your laptop.

about an hour in, you felt your tiredness kicking in. you’re having the urge to take a quick nap but you knew that if you do, you’re not gonna have enough time to finish your project on time.

after 10 minutes of fighting with yourself, you decided to take a quick nap. “just a short 15 minute quick power nap.” you convinced yourself, thinking that you need energy to work on your project anyway.

you closed your eyes and buried your face on the table. you were about to doze off when you heard scratching in your living room. you immediately looked up with confusion. you looked around and started questioning yourself if there’s a ghost living with you.

“what kind of christmas ghost is this now?” you whispered to yourself, but you ignored the sound and went back to your dream land.

the scratching continued for about 3 more minutes and that is when you’ve had enough. you stood up from your chair and scratched your head. “i swear to god if there’s a ghost here i’m gonna sue-- whO THE HELL??”

you saw cream and white colored cat playing with your already fallen christmas balls on the floor. your jaw dropped wide open, so did your eyes.

“uhm-- wait, aren’t you minho’s cat?” you asked the cat. “meow.” it answered.

“okay ming ming, you need to go home to your own apartment. i’m not gonna rage that you messed up my decor but you needa get out.” you pointed at the door and walked towards it. you opened the door widely and looked back at the cat, who is now staring at you, laying on the floor with the all in its’ paw.

“meow.”

you chuckled annoyed and glared at it. “are you gonna leave or what?” you said.

you and the cat played a staring game for a minute before answering you, “meow.”

you hissed at it as you put your arms on your waist. “okay ming ming, im not playing around anymore. i’m calling your owner.”

your left the door open and walked towards the apartment door right across you. you stomped angrily, again, and a series of thud startled minho on the other side of the door.

“hoLD ON I’M LOOKING FOR MY THIRD CAT YOU CAN WAIT!” he screamed. you frowned and knocked louder.

“WELL I HAVE YOUR CAT DUMBASS!” you screamed back, and with no time the door sprung wide open.

“doonGIE! WHERE’S MY DOONGIE?!?!” he screamed at your face, you squinted and scanned his face and the apartment behind him. 

oh god he has two more cats.... and jisung??? you said to yourself, making a more obvious, deeper disgusted face. 

you pointed at jisung, who is behind minho holding the brown cat, “do your shit or else i’m not putting your name on the paper.” you said and jisung’s eyes spread wide open, dropping the cat and garbbing his laptop.

facing minho you sarcastically smiled and pointed at your wide-opened door behind you, showing his cat chilling in your living room with more balls around it.

“collect your cat because this is not a cat-pount, and plus he messed up my christmas decors. teach your cats to listen to people.” you rolled your eyes and walked to your door.

minho ran to enter your apartment and carried his cat. “doongie! why did you go to a stranger’s place? you shouldn’t you that! you made appa scared.” he cooed at the cat, making you cringe.

he finally faced you and bowed. “sorry about that, uhm, i can help you fix the decors my cat messed with... and about jisung, i already lectured him, he’s gonna do your project...” he bowed again.

you just gave him a sigh and smiled, you tapped his shoulders and smiled, teasingly.

“teach your cat, and your wanna be cat. and thanks but i can fix my own decor.” you said as you were about to close the door behind you, but he was quick to hold the door open.

“how bout uhh... coffee tomorrow morning? as an apology?” he offered. you smiled awkwardly.

“i’m having three cups of coffee tonight. maybe next time.” you said and held the knob.

“or lunch! tomorrow? or dinner? i just want to treat you out, been meaning to ask you, out, y’know. without the cats of course.” you stared at him with awe.

i mean, he is cute, minus the cat. i guess i’ll take it.

“you’re really not letting yourself lose, huh.” you smirked. “fine, dinner tomorrow. im probably not gonna be awake by 3 pm tomorrow anyway. see ya. and NO CATS!” you giggled and closed the door behind you.

maybe, having your neighbor’s cat paying you a visit and messing your christmas decor wasn’t so bad.

[mrsrhys23]

Snapshots 2

So this one is a belated birthday present 🎁 for @desireepow-1986

I’m using some prompts from 40 slice of life prompts

Paring: Colt x MC

Word count:

A/N: all characters belong to Pixelberry.

Permatag: @cordoniaqueensworld @desireepow-1986

RoD tags: @troublemakerinspace @lovehugsandcandy

#2: Morning routine

5am was the time Colt and Elie’s mornings started. They got dressed into gym gear, packed a bag and out the door they went. They were that couple that went to the gym together everyday but like Colt and Ellie liked to remind everyone it took a conscious effort to look that good and besides with all the junk food they scoffed in a day it was a miracle they both kept their impressive figures. So like every morning, they headed on out.

When they arrived at the gym they locked their bags safely into a locker, grabbed their bottles of water, headphones and phones and headed in. They both got onto the treadmill, adjusting the settings so it was going at both of their desired speed after putting on songs that make the both of them feel motivated, ready to get started.

At that time of the morning the gym was completely deserted, it was only Colt, Ellie and a few others. The morning was the perfect time to do this, Ellie found something quite nice about doing something so active first thing in the morning, plus she was locked into a competition with Colt on who could do the most steps in a week. So far, Ellie was winning, yes, she’d attached the thing to a whisk when she was baking, but she was still winning nevertheless.

After the gym, the pair headed home, showered, got changed and then ate breakfast. It was Saturday which meant they were having waffles that morning, hell, they had waffles most morning anyway, it had stopped being a treat quite a while ago. It was the weekend they had nothing to do so after breakfast the pair of them flopped down onto the couch in the living room and switched the tv on to watch some ridiculously pointless day time television.

#3:Doing laundry

Three messy children and two adults did produce a hell of a lot of laundry. The kids were young, Mia was two and the twins were four so they were at that age where they like to make it look like a bomb had gone off…daily. Seriously how hard was it not to spill stuff down your clothes?

The twins had convinced their father to take them to the park so he did, taking Mia along with them too so Ellie could do some housework.

It was the weekend. The mess seemed to multiply on the weekends, the twins were off school so they played with all their toys and didn't seem to comprehend how to put them away.

Ellie had just finished hoovering the living room after putting away all the toys that once littered the floor, when she heard the door be pushed open and Colt and the children sauntered in. Maddy was yelling, something about her father being irresponsible.

Ellie stood with her arms crossed after she finished gathering up the wire attached to the hoover as they all clambered in. Ellie looked straight to Colt, seeing his shirt covered in blood and it down his face. “What the fuck Colt?”

“Language there are children around,” Colt scolded.

“We’ve heard you say it before,” Maddy huffed, “We know not to repeat it.”

“That’s not the point,” Colt said.

“What happened?” Ellie demanded.

“Well….,” Colt started but his oldest daughter cut him off.

“Daddy decided to get on the swing and then jumped off but didn't land properly and face planted the floor, then his nose started bleeding, Dad started screaming, Mia was crying, people were looking at us, Elijah didn't really care and went over to the slide,” Maddy explained.

Ellie shook her head in complete and utter disapproval. It was like she had four kids, all incapable of looking after themselves and one of them was in his late twenties.

“Right,” Ellie started ready to restore order to the chaos that was her household. “ Maddy and Elijah sort out your toys and put them away properly in your rooms, Colt give me your shirt, put a new one on, clean your face and then entertain Mia.”

Luckily the children did as they were told and Ellie took her husband’s shirt after he had insisted that there was no way that she would get the blood stain out, which just all in technicality made her want to actually do it.

Ellie waltzed into their bedroom after the kids were all in bed to see Colt laying on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Oi,” she called, getting his attention. He looked up to her as she held up Colt’s once blood splattered shirt that was now back to its pristine white.

“H-how did you do that?” Colt asked, bewildered.

“What?” Ellie asked.

“The blood. How’d you get it out?”

“Why?” Ellie asked, with a raised eyebrow as she tossed him the shirt as she headed into their conjoined bathroom to start her nightly routine.

“I swear this is how less women get caught for murder,” Colt mumbled as ellie disappeared into the bathroom.

#9: Grocery shopping

Ellie pushed the trolley along with one arm as her other hand was latched on to her daughter's smaller one.

Maddy thought she had been sneaky by placing things into the trolley, thinking her mother hadn't noticed but of course, she had. They had just walked down the sweet aisle, Ellie not missing Maddy randomly picking things up and throwing them into the trolley, trying to hide things under other items that were meant to be in there.

“Maddy.” Ellie started as they made their way through the supermarket, Ellie picking up items off the list as they went.

The young girl looked up at her mother, “Yeah?”

“I know what you’re doing.” She was fighting back a laugh, she used to do the same thing when she was a kid. Rita and herself were locked into a competition to see who could get the most items into the trolley without their parents noticing. Unlucky for Ellie was that her father was a detective, he noticed things, so Riya always won.

It was either Maddy was taking after her mother or Colt had taught her this. “I don't know what you’re talking about,” she insisted.

“Really? So what’s all of this?” Ellie asked gesturing to the newly appeared items that she knew she definitely did not put in there.

Maddy shrugged, still going with act dumb approach. “I don’t know.”

“Sure? You really don't know how this happened?” Ellie asked, as she stopped to pick up a loaf of bread.

“Nope,” she girl said, popping the ‘p’ as she smiled up at her mother.

“Okay,” Ellie said, letting a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. Lying was wrong, she had taught her children that but it was kind of funny. She watched Maddy as they continued around the shop. Colt was definitely going to be getting a talking to when they got back home.

#13: Putting on a special piece of jewellery- (Thank you to the Anon who requested this one.)

Ellie sat perched on the end of her bed, the necklace in her hand as she turned the little metal heart over, reading the little engraved message into the silver. It was a beautiful necklace that she knew she’d always treasure.

It once belonged to her mother, who unfortunately, passed away little over five years ago. She remembered sitting on her lap and playing with it when she was a kid, she always did find it gorgeous.

The necklace was special, before her mother, her grandmother owned it and her mother before her. It had been in the family for a long, long time and consequently when her mother passed it was given to Ellie.

“What are you doing?” Colt asked, as he leaned against the doorway. “You’ve been gone for ages.”

She didn't respond and just continued to play with the piece of jewellery in her hand. She felt the bed dip as her boyfriend took a seat. “This was my mom's,” she told him, holding it up so he could see. “I guess I'm just...reminiscing. She always used to wear this, I never saw her without it actually,” she said with a small chuckle.

Ellie leaned her head against his shoulder. “I really miss her, Colt.”

“I know,” Colt sighed, he felt something be placed into his hand. He looked down and saw Ellie necklace, her looked back up to her, his eyebrow raised.

“The clasp is really stiff. I can’t do it myself,” she explained. Ellie turned away from him and held her hair out the way. She felt the cold metal of the necklace around her neck and the metal heart lay over her chest.

Colt fiddle with the clasp for a minute, muttering profanities under his breath. At long last he finally managed to do it. “There.”

Ellie reached up to touch the heart as she turned back to face her boyfriend, placing a kiss on his lips. “Thank you,” she whispered as he pulled back. Colt just gave her a small smile in response.

#15: Getting a haircut

Change wasn't something that Ellie liked all that much. She preferred things to stay the same.

Ellie headed to the hairdressers earlier that morning, she was overdue a haircut, it was getting out of hand, too long so it was becoming a nuisance. Mind she thought having shoulder length hair was a nuisance too, it blew in her face when it was windy, it always seemed to get into her food somehow. Frankly, it was annoying.

Ellie had pondered over changing her hair for a while.

After a few hours of meaningless small talk, Ellie finally escaped the hairdressers. She slightly regretted it. Her hair was now short and rainbow.

She wasn't sure what had come over her, it was just an impulse, a strange one at that but one nonetheless. The weird part was she actually kinda liked it. She was just worried about what Colt was going to think. It was one hell of a change.

Ellie made her way home, pulling her bobble hat further down to cover her ears- that was going to be something to get used to. She had never had such short hair before, it had never felt like her ears were going to fall off before.

Soon Ellie arrived back home, slipping off her hat, scarf and coat and hanging them up then placed her keys on the table and into the pot on the table.

“I’m home!” she called, making her way into the kitchen.

Colt was sat at the table, scrolling through his phone and sipping at his cup of coffee. Colt mumbled a hello, not looking up from his device. That was typical behaviour from him.

Ellie made her way over to the kettle and flicked it on, putting two sugars into a mug, a tea bag and grabbed the milk from the fridge as she waited.

“Been up long?” Ellie asked. Her appointment was early and Colt was still asleep when she left.

“No. Where were you?”

“Hairdressers- I told you last night,” Ellie groaned.

“Oh,” Colt mumbled. She actually debated whether or not he actually listened to her sometimes.

Ellie turned back around after staring daggers at the back of her boyfriends head to finish making her drink.

After she was done she took a seat opposite Colt. After scrolling through his phone for a few more seconds he looked up, taking a sip of his drink that soon ended up over the table and some of it over Ellie.

“Colt!” she yelled. Luckily the coffee had been sitting for a fair while and was just barely lukewarm. She wiped her face with her sleeve.

“Erm… Don’t take this the wrong way but….why does it look like a unicorn barfed on you? I’m not saying that I don’t like it, it's kinda cool, but why?”

Ellie shrugged,wrapping her hands around the ceramic mug in front of her to warm her still chilly hands. “I don't know...it just kinda happened. I was talking to Janet about having a bit of change and then this happened,” she explained, pointing to her hair. Her now quite funky looking hair. “Does it look okay?” she asked, twirling a piece of her new hair around her finger.

“It’s definitely different but...Yeah, it looks okay.”

“Really?” Ellie asked hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Colt nodded, “I like it.”

“Good,” she said, nodding her head as she took a sip of her drink, “So you've got an appointment next week...are you going to go rainbow too?”

Colt nearly spat out some more of his drink again. He swallowed it then looked up at her, wide eyed. “No, absolutely not.”

“It was worth a shot,” she shrugged.

#21: Birthday

Colt had been asking his girlfriend about what she wanted for two weeks now. He liked to be prepared when it came to Ellie but all she had said was that she wanted to spend it with him. He wouldn't deny he found that quite cheesy and felt a little bit of sick making its way up his throat, however, he did find it kind of adorable. Anyway, that’s what he did, anything to make his girl happy.

That morning, Colt got out of bed before Ellie and headed down into the kitchen to make her some breakfast. Boiled eggs and soldiers- her favourite.

After breakfast in bed was out of the way, Ellie dragged their blankets and pillows down into the living, switched on the tv and looked for something to watch while Colt was in the kitchen making some popcorn. They both settled down on the sofa, watched movies and ate junk food for the rest of the day, Just like Ellie had wanted.

#22: Going on vacation / #14: Packing for a trip

“Colt!” Ellie yelled from the bedroom. A few moments later Colt came running in, leaning against the doorway, smirking as he watched Ellie trying to close her suitcase. She was now laying on top of it whilst trying to do up the zipper, however, it wasn't working.

They were going away that evening and Ellie had decided she didn't need to pack before hand, like the day before like most people.

When she caught sight of him in the doorway she wasn't happy in any sense of the word. “Help me!” she barked.

Colt shook his head and made his way into the room. He sat on top of the case as Ellie worked to close it.

After it was closed, Colt was sure that wouldn't be for long since it looked as if it was ready to burst at the seams, he jumped off, looking at the case quizzically.

“Do you really need all of that?”

She stared daggers at him, “Yes!” She asked, startling her boyfriend slightly.

“Alright calm down. It was only a question,” he said, putting his hands up in defence.

Ellie wasn't the most stereotypical girl, she didn't pack her entire wardrobe when going on holiday or any of the things guys thought girls do, however, Ellie didn't remember the last time she had been on vacation so she had panicked slightly after looking through her closet discovering she had literally no suitable clothes for this trip and may have brought a few too many outfits. They were expensive so she was going to get some use out of them, even if her luggage now weighed more than her.

They were going to Zante in Greece. Ellie had been once but that was a long, long time ago. She was just really excited, they had been saving for ages for this trip and at long last they were going.

[felinefamiliars]

Woo-boy I actually had fun writing this, also listened to the song “Toxic Valentine” the whole time. Also I apologize if this doesn’t have a read more in it, mobile doesn’t like to work for me a lot.

The cheers that came from the brightly lit gym could make one cover their ears in disgust. It was too loud, too bright, too peppy, and too human. Why he ever agreed to come to this “game” was beyond him, but it wasn’t like he had a choice. He was told it would do him some good, to get more used to social gatherings as such. He never did throughout his public school years, so he didn’t see a point in starting now.

“When is this over, I want to go to our room.”

“My room, Zim, you don’t live there,” Dib rolled his eyes at the other’s comment. “You should at this point with how pissed off my roommate is every time you come in, which is every day.”

“Not my fault that he doesn’t know what to do when someone as beautiful and smart as I walks into a room.”

“Don’t flatter yourself asshole.”

With a huff, Zim shifted uncomfortably on the bleachers and rested his chin on his hands. Watching tall humans run after a large ball was extremely boring, if the ball would hit someone in the face hard enough to break their nose, then that would be interesting. The squeaking from their oversized sneakers made his antennae ring, and the lights were starting to bother his eyes. He should have brought his eye drops, his contacts were starting to feel a bit dry. He sighed loudly, and side eyed Dib. He looked just as bored as he did, so why don’t they just leave already?

“You’re bored,” Zim said flatly and poked Dib’s side, hard. “Can we go now?”

“Ouch, go gentle, that hurt,” Dib poked him back with just as much force, raising a brow when he received no reaction. “We’ve only been here 15 minutes. Give it time, it’ll get better.”

“You’re being ugly by lying.”

Zim shifted again, then waited a second and stood quickly to his feet, groaning out in displeasure when he realized even though it had been a short amount of time, his backside was numb. He rubbed and patted at it, waiting for the static, pins and needles sensation to dissipate. If may have been innocent for him and everyone else around him, but Dib saw differently. While Zim was still as skinny as he was years ago, his now more mature body so to speak, developed a bit of a backside. So when Dib saw the slight jiggle of it, he started to blush. The sudden urge came to him, and he nearly hated himself for it. When Zim finally sat down, he coughed into his hand.

“Zim?”

“What?”

“Want to do something else?”

“FINALLY!”

His yell brought attention to other students for just a second, and they went back to their cheering before Zim could shoot a dirty look at them. With another cough into his hand, Dib grabbed his companion and off they went, although not far. Zim stopped in his tracts to glare sudden murder at the taller, his eyes intense and those drawn on eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would you drag me to this stupid game just to leave suddenly,” He spat out and gave Dib the once over. Those brows shot up momentarily seeing the light blush on those cheeks still, then narrowed and he smirked darkly. “You want to have your way with me, don’t you?”

“Uh...when you put it that wa-“

“I ACCEPT.”

“Whu-“

Before he could start to protest, Zim grabbed Dib’s arm and dragged him behind the bleachers. It was dark, and the cheering was muffled. He gave that dark grin again and immediately shoved his hands down Dib’s pants, grabbing onto him roughly.

“Hey hey hey!” The hands were taken out and Zim was pressed up against the wall. “You have got to be more careful there, I’m not a toy you can be rough wit- why are you looking at me like that?”

His eyes were wide and lips parted, and that purple blush Dib loved showing itself for once. It was as if he had gotten in trouble, which in all honesty he had, and he seemed to be excited about it. When Dib pressed Zim’s wrists back until they rested on the wall, the blush got darker and he squirmed slightly.

“Oh my god, you like this don’t you?”

“D-Don’t be fooled! I don’t like anything like this!”

“Now you’re the one who’s being ugly by lying,” It was Dib’s turn for dark smirk. He leaned down and whispered in a low voice, that smirk growing when he felt a shiver of excitement from Zim. “It seems I have to punish you.”

“You wouldn’t dare...”

“Oh, I would.”

Shifting both wrists into one hand, Dib pulled at the collar of Zim’s shirt and bit down where his neck met his shoulder, hard. The low growl that came from the alien urge him to continue, and with his free hand it lifted up the shirt, blunt nails digging into skin and dragging down with a force that left angry marks in their wake. Zim went to cry out, but before he would even open his mouth Dib’s covered it in a heated kiss, teeth clanking at each other before tongues lapped in a frenzy. They were never gentle with each other, no, Zim never liked it soft and loving. He only wanted the pain that came with sex, or so he thought it came with. The stings from scratch marks, the coppery taste of blood on his lips, the tugging of his antennae, now that sent a heat straight down and pooled at his lower belly. He craved it, and when he got a craving he made sure he got what he wanted.

“F-fool,” Through gritted teeth Zim tugged almost desperately at the hem of Dib’s pants, growing impatient the second his hands were released. He could feel his appendage start to unsheath, and he squirmed uncomfortably against the wall. He could feel the coolness of the surface through his clothes, he wanted to feel it even more, completely bare. He would regret it later on, but for the moment he didn’t have a care in the world. “Undress this instant.”

”You know your manners,” Dib’s tongue clicked in disappointment and once again he had the shorter’s hands pinned. He kissed at his neck, nipping at a sensitive spot and started traveling south. He tongue licked at the welts from his nails, shivering at the almost sweet taste of sweat and traces of blood. He was getting uncomfortable himself, but wanted to tease Zim as much as he could before the alien finally started to beg. “Good aliens get what they want when they use their nice words.”

“P-pig.”

”That’s not a nice word, I guess I’m going to have to take care of myself.”

The teasing in his tone made Zim want to rip his antennae off and beat him with them. He was straining in his pants, nearly whimpering as he kicked out pathetically. A boot came off in his struggle, and he couldn’t help the whine that clawed its way out of his throat. He didn’t want to wait any longer, although he didn’t want to give the satisfaction to such a disgusting creature of him begging.

“What’s the matter there Zimmy? Feeling a little tight?”

It came out in a disgustingly sweet coo, and with one sudden movement black pants were swiped down to knees, green skin exposed to the cool air. A shocked gasp was heard, and Zim’s hands were finally released. Those responsible for holding him now dug into his hips, nails biting into skin. When he felt the warmth of a mouth engulf him, he nearly screamed, but knew if he did now they would be caught in their actions. As exciting as that was, he would rather not have a display such as this be exposed to a large group of people. So instead, he covered his mouth with a hand, groans muffled by black fabric.

“It taste just like candy,” Dib let go of his hold with an audible pop, grinning at the sight above. Zim’s eyes were barely open, his face covered in a dark purple blush, and he swore he saw him shaking. He knew how much Zim loved this kind of talk, and he could tell he was at a breaking point. “Maybe I should stop though, cause someone is being stubborn and won’t use his manners still. Such a naughty boy.”

For emphasis, he blew slightly onto the pulsing appendage, grinning when it twitched, trying to go back to where the warmth was. Zim finally let out a long whine and bit down hard onto his hand, not caring in the slightest that it would be bloody under the glove. He knew very well what they both wanted, it being very evident in the other’s pants, and he knew he had to be a “good boy” if he was to receive what he wanted.

“F-fine, Dib-stench,” he spat through clenched teeth. “Give to me, please.”

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you?”

“Please.”

“I’m sorry, is this Zim speaking? Or some whimp?”

“I NEED YOU INSIDE ME PLEASE!”

Alright, not only blunt, but that was loud. Dib shrank back at the volume, pausing for only a moment to listen to the crowd from the other side. Nothing out of the ordinary, somehow their constant cheers drowned out their sounds this whole time. With a nod however, he pulled his pants down only enough to release himself from the tight fabric and hoisted Zim up so that he could wrap his skinny legs around his waist. With a quick snap of his hips, he slid inside easily.

“Oh fuck!”

“Nnnn, what have I told you about swearing?”

“F-mmm!”

There was no second profanity, as it was muffled but mouths colliding together once more. They were sloppy in their actions, mouths not knowing what to do but lick and bite at any skin available, crimson and pink mixing together and leaving a coppery sweet smell. Fabric of shirts being ripped and claws scratching down skin, leaving instant welts in their wake, and hisses of pain following. Hips jerked up in quick motions, squelching of fluids being mixed together in absolute bliss. There was no speaking, no more cursing, just groans and whines of pleasure as the burning sensations shot down to their lower extremities, a new tightness forming.

“Haaa....cl-close,”

Zim’s voice took on a higher pitch, toes wiggling in anticipation. He gripped tightly at Dib’s shoulders, claws poking into more skin, leaving more marks to be cleaned and disinfected later. By now the crowd was starting to quiet down and with one hand Dib covered Zim’s mouth, knowing all too well when he reached his limit they would be found.

“Jerk off for me.”

That vulgar statement sent delicious shivers down his spine, and he complied. In a swift movement a glove came off and wrapped around the engorged appendage, gripping with such force that would cause the average human to cry out in discomfort. He dragged his hand up and down swiftly, his fluids making everything slick. He was twitching almost uncontrollably, and before either of them knew it he let out a yell and splattered his thick substance in strings. With him tightening around Dib in such a way, a few more thrusts and he had his release as well.

Their breathing was erratic, pants filling in their close proximity. No matter how and when they did it, Dib would always end with a soft kiss to Zim’s forehead. With one hand he fixed himself up and with the other he guided Zim down until he was standing shakily on his own feet. The alien was content and spent, and had to be helped be dressed.

“Where’s that damn boot of your’s?”

“Nnnnn....there.”

“Alright, lets go.”

“Carry me filth, I can’t walk.”

By the time the emerged from behind the bleachers, the basketball game was coming to an end, not a single soul even aware of what happened. But in due time when someone stumbled upon that site, they would know instantly the activities of that day from the less than pleasant evidence left behind.

[fangirl-alert-13]

“Make Me” || Newt (TMR)

Summary: You and Newt have been best friends since you met in the Glade, however, there has always been sexual tension that you both ignore, even though the rest of the Gladers ship you hardcore (especially Minho).

Pairings: Newt x fem!Reader

Abbreviations: y/n=your name

Warnings: nothing much, some profanity, some fluff, HEAVYYYYY sexual tension but that’s about it

A/N: this is just a short read, i thought it was cute<3

Word count: 1.4k

....

When you first got to the Glade, you were scared. Then, you were confused, and then pissed off, and finally, after a while, happy.

It was a whole roller coaster of emotions, in a short period of time.

According to Newt, you had been sobbing when the Box first got opened, and then “literally” (as he described it) a few seconds later you started screaming, asking “where the fuck am I.”

Although you thought he was being slightly dramatic about the whole situation (he over-exaggerates everything), you hated to admit it was accurate.

You and Newt became fast friends. He was the one to calm you down, show you around, get you a job, the sorts. After being a Track-hoe with him for quite some time, you proved yourself worthy to be a Runner and became Minho’s second-in-command.

Though that was years ago. You and Newt were best friends now, you “brother-zoned” Minho (even worse than friend-zoning, because as you had said, he was “like a brother” to you), and you technically had two jobs now. A Runner, and a dessert chef for Frypan because his skills were exceeding in the meals area, but lacking sufficiently in the sweets department.

It was the morning after a new arrival to the Glade, and you felt particularly groggy, having an instant headache when you got up before the crack of dawn to start running.

You moaned as you swung your legs over the side of your hammock, holding your head in your hands.

“Hit the moonshine a little too hard last night?” Newt asked from the hammock beside you, stretching his arms above his head and opening his eyes.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s alright.”

You stared at your best friend - dark brown eyes, messy dirty blonde hair, and of course, his abs peeking out from the bottom of his sleep shirt.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he joked, his signature smirk plastered onto his face.

You stood up, grabbing clothes to change into for the day, and said, “your stomach’s showing.”

“Now,” he sat up, combing his fingers through his messy locks, “nobody else would make a comment like that but you.”

“Because I’m a girl. I bet if I wasn’t here, you boys would walk around nude all day.”

“Ha, you’re so funny.” He paused, before saying, “You don’t mind it though. My stomach showing,” with a wink.

You just rolled your eyes and started walking away to get changed. You’re not denying it!” he called after you.

“I’m not agreeing with it either though!” You said, turning around and walking backward a few steps to look at him before spinning around again.

....

When you met Minho at the door, he asked, “did you give your boyfriend a kiss goodbye?”

“Oh, shut up, Minho,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Make me.”

“Uh, no thanks,” you said, giggling.

“...Wow. I see how it is.”

“Yup.”

You didn’t get a response from Minho, but instead just a heavy sigh.

The doors of the Glade opened, and the two of you started running.

....

You ran through the doors and back into the Glade, the sun just starting to set in the horizon. Minho checked his watch, which read 5:45. You were 15 minutes early, as usual. You always left and headed back in the direction of the Glade at the same time every day: not too early, so you didn’t waste time in the Maze, but not too late, so that it was a rush to get back before the doors closed.

You walked over to Newt, where he sat in his hammock, and stripped off your backpack, letting it thud loudly on the dirt ground.

“You look familiar,” he said suddenly, making you jump. You spun around, meeting his gaze through squinted eyes.

“Well, I would sure hope so!” You retorted.

He sat up, swinging his feet over the edge of the hammock. “I swore I saw you earlier today.”

“You did, dummy. This morning before I left to go in the Maze.”

“No, more recently than that.” He seemed to ponder for a moment.

“Newt stop goofing around.”

“Ah-hah!” He exclaimed. “I know where I saw you! It was in the garden!”

You rolled your eyes. “Newt, you’re not funny. I wasn’t in the garden today. I think you need glasses.”

“It might not have been you...no, now that I recall it, it wasn’t you. It was a little cherry tomato that I picked to go in the salad for tonight’s dinner. You look identical, though.”

Your mouth dropped open in partial shock, partial rage (though the rage was still full of love for your best friend. You knew he was joking). “Yes, Newt, I know my face is red! I’ve been running all shuckin’ day!”

“Oh, that little cherry tomato was so cute. It reminded me of you.”

If anything, he was making your face get redder than it already was. “Shut up, won’t you?”

“Why don’t you make me?”

At that moment, you did something impulsive. Very impulsive. Probably the most impulsive thing you had ever done in your life. All in an instant, you leaned down to where Newt was sitting, grabbed his face in your hands, and kissed him on the lips. You immediately regretted your impulsive decision, and stood up straight again, covering your face with your hands. “I - I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s alright.” His voice was soft, and though he had been stunned at the moment, the look of perpetual shock had already left his face. “Look at me, love. It’s alright.” He grabbed your hands away from your face, but you just looked down at the ground. “Love, you just did something impulsive; something brave. We all do things like that from time to time. Like I’m about to do.”

You looked up at him, but before you could ask what he meant by “what I’m about to do,” you were pulled into his lap, straddling his legs. You gasped out in surprise, “oh!”

He smirked at you, that beautiful, sinningly beautiful smirk, before taking your hands and wrapping them around the back of his own neck and resting his own on your hips. “I’m going to tell you something very serious.” The smirk left his face and he stared at you with dark eyes.

“What?” You asked, but it came out as a whisper; slightly concerned, wondering if he was being serious.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so fucking long, but I didn’t know if you felt the same way and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

You raised your eyebrows and felt your cheeks heating up once again even though they were finally normal after settling down after running with Minho. “Wow, you must be really serious. You even said ‘fucking’ instead of ‘shucking.’”

He laughed at you and rolled his eyes.

You stared into each other's eyes, and you could tell it was “that moment.” The moment before every kiss, where you just stare at each other and slowly lean in. You couldn’t even tell it was happening, but suddenly your faces were closer together. You closed your eyes and you felt his warm breath fanning your lips, and you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck. Your lips touched -

“PDA!”

You and Newt wrenched apart, seeing Minho across the Glade, doubled over with laughter. You felt your face heat up for a third time that afternoon, and you bit your lip. “Well, we were rudely interrupted!”

“I don’t care anymore,” Newt said. “They can scream and make fun of us all they want.” He grabbed your face between his slender fingers and crashed his lips onto yours. You were shocked for only a moment, and then relaxed and let yourself melt into his touch.

The kiss was amazing. No, scratch that - it was perfect. He had always been your best friend, so when you started falling for him, you tried to deny your feelings; telling yourself how they were simply platonic.

The thing was, they weren’t. At all.

Well, at least, not anymore.

You finally pulled apart from his soft lips, both of you panting slightly from lack of oxygen. He tucked a strand of stray hair behind your ear, smiling at you.

“Damn,” he said, “if I had known all I had to do to get you to kiss me was say ‘make me,” I would have a long ass time ago.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said, rolling your eyes and smiling.

He bit his lip, staring at yours. “Make me.”

[glassc0ffin]

Feedback

hee hoo i wrote a tma fic in the form of frankies statement to the institute

words: 2245

warnings: none, except for phil collins and thrown staples

pairing: oc (frankie james)/jonathan sims

[[MORE]]

FRANKIE JAMES:

-That a tape recorder? It's so cute! We've been trying to get one for the station, just so we can say we have one - y'know, to impress the hipsters - but they're well out of my budget. How did you get one?

ARCHIVIST:

I - Uh, it was here when I got the job, it was my predecessor's.

JAMES:

Wow, well, I'm jealous. [GIGGLES] A little tempted for thievery…

ARCHIVIST:

...Right. Would you like to begin your statement?

JAMES:

Oh, yeah, of course.

ARCHIVIST:

Alright. Statement of Frank James, radio DJ at -

JAMES:

Frankie. 

ARCHIVIST:

[PAUSE] Frankie James, radio DJ at Tranzishon Rock, London, regarding…?

JAMES:

Uh, a series of...obscene phone calls from an unknown person. 

ARCHIVIST:

Recorded direct from subject by Jonathan Sims, head archivist of The Magnus Institute, 21st of September, 2019. Statement begins.

JAMES:

Ah, so, okay. [SIGHS]

ARCHIVIST:

...Are you alright?

JAMES:

Yeah, I just… [SIGHS] I have a hard time...getting words out. I'm not...articulate.

ARCHIVIST:

Would I be able to help?

JAMES:

How would you? It's in my head.

ARCHIVIST:

[SIGHS] You'd be surprised. [PAUSES] When did it start? The phone calls.

JAMES: 

On my show. I have a radio show at Tranzishon, late nights, 7 till 10, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Towards the end of the show, from 9 till 10, we do a requests hour. Listeners call, or text, or tweet, or send a carrier pigeon, to ask us to play songs. The last one is only if they're fancy.

ARCHIVIST:

[SNORTS]

JAMES:

[PAUSES]

ARCHIVIST:

[PAUSES] Sorry. You were saying?

JAMES:

[LAUGHS FAINTLY, A LITTLE BREATHLESS] Ah, yeah, erm… [AMUSED] I can't quite remember where I was…

ARCHIVIST:

The requests hour?

JAMES:

Yes! Okay, so, er, I was announcing the requests hour, reading out our phone number and the twitter account, and as soon as I had finished reading the phone number, we got a call. I- We've got a small team of techies - well, two - that handle incoming calls, texts, tweets, whatever. One, Paul, looked up from the switchboard at me and put me through to the listener, and I did my usual spiel. Y'know: [RADIO VOICE] You're listening to Frankie at Tranzishon rock, dear listener, what's your request?

[NORMAL VOICE] And they didn't say anything. There was dead air for a couple of seconds, then as I began to say 'Anybody there?' my headphones are blown out by the sudden high volume. The person on the other end must have been right up on the mic, because there was an immense amount of feedback and white noise. I'm sort of thankful for that, 'cause it nearly covered up what they had to say.

[PAUSES] [DEEP BREATH] I... don't want to repeat what they said. Suffice to say, the techies had some lightning speed reaction time when they cut off the line. There was more dead air as I tried to recover from the shock, I think I made a joke about them wanting the number for Babestation instead.

ARCHIVIST:

[LAUGHS]

JAMES:

[PAUSES] [LAUGHS, WEAKLY] Yeah… Ah, so, w-we banned that number so they wouldn't call again, and I ended the show with Pretty Fly (For a White Guy) by The Offspring. Because I cope with bad experiences by burying them with humour. 

[UNDER HIS BREATH] Give it to me, baby. [EVEN QUIETER] Uh huh, uh huh. 

[COUGHS]

Uh. Anyway. I went home, had my day off, and went back into work the next night and tried to forget about what happened. And for the most part, I did. The first 2 hours passed without incident, and then when I announced the requests hour, I joked about the caller the other day. My techies looked at each other nervously as I laughed. I gave them a questioning look, but said nothing. I'd ask them after the show. I read the number and twitter and waited for the requests to roll in. Again, we had another phone call straight away. I said my spiel, and my heart was in my throat as I waited for the caller to speak. I looked at my techies. Sheena, my other tech, shrugged at me. I sighed, about to give them a signal to cut them off and answer someone else when the feedback returned, louder and more harsh this time. I threw my headphones onto the desk in front of me, but I still heard the words spilling out of them.

[SWALLOWS] Y'know that scene in Silence of the Lambs? Where Lecter asks Clarice to repeat what that other inmate had said to her? Y'know - [SOUTHERN AMERICAN ACCENT] 'He said, I can smell your cunt.'

ARCHIVIST:

Good lord.

JAMES:

Yeah. It was a bit like that. There was a lot more...squelching with mine, though. Ugh. The techs cut the call, as I knew they would. I was more than a little pissed off. I started playing a song someone had tweeted and turned off my mic, turning to my techies. I asked them, why didn't you ban them like you said you would last time? Sheena said she did, that she guessed they were using a payphone or something to harass us. Paul tentatively asked if we should inform the police, and I told him to F off. We've had no help from coppers in the past when we had Nazis and TERFs flooding our lines calling us all sorts of shit, why would they help now? Cops avoid gays like the plague unless its for propaganda. So, Paul backed down. 

Before the song ended, I quickly mentioned that maybe we shouldn't take calls anymore, just texts and tweets. I didn't want it to come to that, not really. I ended the show again with a song from a small local band, earning me a shoutout on their twitter. That felt good, at least.

I went home, picking up a 6-pack of Stella on the way. I wanted to make sure I slept that night. As I sat on the tube, a good 20 minute journey to my flat, my phone began to ring. At that moment, it didn't strike me that it shouldn't have been able to get any reception underground, yet there it was, ringing in my hand. I was more annoyed at it interrupting my music, but I answered anyway. It was the same fucking caller. I couldn't hit the 'disconnect' button fast enough. But I still heard what he said. [LAUGHS SHAKILY] At least the guy has some imagination. Never the same thing twice. [VOICE BREAKS, STUTTERING] I looked around the tube to see if anyone would be witnessing my quickly approaching panic attack, and finding no-one in the compartment with me, I broke down. The next 15 minutes passed with a blur, and then I reached my station, tears stopping as fast as they had came. 

I stepped off the tube and started walking in the direction towards my flat, and my phone started ringing again. My breath caught in my chest as I froze on the pavement, phone vibrating away in my pocket. I picked it up, screen lit up and facing toward the ground. Slowly, I turned it up, half shutting my eyes, as if the person on the other end wouldn't be able to see me if I couldn't see the phone. [SIGHS] Stupid. It was my mum's phone number. I answered, talked with her for a little bit - she lives a ways away, I don't get to see her a lot - and said goodnight when I got to my flat. I got blackout and passed out on my couch when I got in. Yeah, I know I'm a lightweight. When I woke up at 12pm, my TV was still on, replaying the DVD menu for Black Christmas - the 1974 version. I guess in my Stella-crazed state I was desperate to watch it again.

The entire day, I left my phone switched off. My boss won't be too pleased with me, especially after 2 shows of mine had very explicit profanity, thanks to our mystery caller, but I didn't care. 

[PAUSES]

Listen, I-I know, alright? I know it sounds stupid, I know I probably sound like a pearl-clutching housewife, how scandalous that I'm terrified of a few dirty phonecalls, but...you didn't hear them. You wouldn't want to hear them. Paul, Sheena, and I certainly didn't. At least they only heard them at the station…

Thankfully, on the Friday, we had decided not to do requests hour. Yeah, a few listeners would be upset, but the more loyal listeners would understand when one person ruins it for everyone else. We just settled for the last hour of the show to be requests from Paul and Sheena. Strangely enlightening, but I don't wish to hear any more Phil Collins than is necessary. And with Paul, he seems to think 10 songs is necessary. It isn't.

ARCHIVIST:

[OFFENDED] What's wrong with Phil Collins?

JAMES:

Apart from the fact that we're a punk rock station?

ARCHIVIST:

Fair enough. You were saying?

JAMES:

Okay, so, ah… I was on my way home again, and had all but forgotten the mystery caller. We'd figured it had just been some weirdo that got bored of us cutting him off. But as I was walking from the tube station from my flat, I heard that ear-splitting feedback again. Doubling over in pain, I reached up to pull my headphones off, only to find that I had left them at the radio station. I pressed my fists to my ears, crumpling to the ground as the whine of someone being too close to a microphone pierced my eardrums. I felt something cold trickle out of my ear. I didn't have to check my hand to guess that it was blood. I hyperventilated as I lay on the ground. Something was shouting, screaming at me, screeching slurs and threats of what it wanted to do to me, what it will do to me. I remember vomiting, and then blacking out as the overlapping cacophony reached a fever pitch.

I woke up not too far from where I had passed out, £10 and a phone lighter. It was probably some homeless guy who took them, and honestly, I'm not too bothered. I'm more angry no-one took me to a doctor or something. I think, the last thing I saw before I passed out was someone standing in the distance. Staring. Yeah, it could have been some rando, but the image stuck with me.

They were silhouetted against the bright signs of the takeaways on the street behind them, hands stretching too far down, a little too tall. I might have been delusional or in the throes of oxygen deprivation or something, but I swear I saw it smile as I lost consciousness. 

I haven't been back to my flat. I've been staying with Sheena for the past couple of days. She's alright, but I can tell she wants me out. She doesn't want what's happening to me to happen to her. 

ARCHIVIST:

Statement ends. ...Are you alright?

JAMES:

[SNIFFS] Er, I - Uh, I should be, in a bit. Thanks for, uh...I don't know. Listening?

ARCHIVIST:

It's my job. 

JAMES:

Is that it then? What happens now?

ARCHIVIST:

We'll get in contact with you if we find anything out.

JAMES:

Oh! Then, you'll probably need this then. [SCRIBBLING]

ARCHIVIST:

[SHOCKED NOISE] Wh- What are you doing?

JAMES:

Giving you my phone number, what's it look like?

ARCHIVIST:

Well, I'm sure you can give it to me on paper, not my hand! And didn't you say your phone was stolen?

JAMES:

[SCRIBBLING STOPS] Oh. Yeah. Well, if I ever get it back, then. You know where to call.

ARCHIVIST:

R-Right. Goodbye, Mr. James.

JAMES:

Frankie.

ARCHIVIST:

...Goodbye, Frankie.

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST:

Mr. James -- Frankie's behaviour was certainly... strange during our conversation. He kept looking at me, pausing and then quickly looking away again, having to restart his sentence whenever he did so. Maybe he realised that he had virtually no evidence to back up his testimony. The only witnesses we have are this Sheena and Paul, and they can only back up the instances of the phone calls happening at the radio station, not anywhere else. Conveniently, Frankie does not appear to record his mobile phone calls, so we have no evidence the phone call on the tube happened. Assuming it even could happen.

Furthermore, his constant stuttering only made me think he was making the whole thing up. Maybe he just wants a story for his show. He --

TIM:

Knock, knock. Was that Frankie James?

ARCHIVIST:

Yes, i-it was -- Tim, saying 'Knock, knock' is not a good substitute for knocking. 

TIM:

Did I hear you saying that he was making it up because he was stuttering?

ARCHIVIST:

Well, yes. It's a common tell for lying.

TIM:

It's a common tell for a huge goddamn crush.

ARCHIVIST:

What?

TIM:

Oh, come on. You didn't notice?

ARCHIVIST:

No, n-no, I didn't.

TIM:

Jon, he was the colour of a tomato. He wrote his phone number on your hand! Look, he even drew a heart, for god's sake.

ARCHIVIST:

[MUTTERING] Hmm, yes, I suppose it does look like a heart… No, don't be ridiculous, Tim.

TIM:

[IN A SING-SONG VOICE] Jon has got a boyfriend, Jon has got a boyfriend!

ARCHIVIST:

Are you twelve?! Get out! [SOMETHING CLATTERS ON THE GROUND]

TIM:

Ow! Stop throwing staples at me!

[CRASHING SOUND]

[CLICK]

[stevecanmakeanythingnerdy]

Battle #12

The Vaselines : Sex With An X (Side A)

Vs.

Dead Boys: Young, Loud, and Snotty (Side II)

The Vaselines : Sex With An X (Side A)

The Vaselines are an alternative rock band from Glasgow, Scotland. Formed in Glasgow in 1986, the band was originally a duo between its songwriters Eugene Kelly and Frances McKee, later adding James Seenan and Eugene's brother Charlie Kelly on bass and drums respectively from the band Secession. The band released two short EPs, Son of a Gun, released in 1987, and Dying for It, released in 1988. The latter features two of the band’s most recognized songs, "Molly's Lips" and "Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam," both of which 90’s grunge superstars Nirvana would later cover. Though they were not widely known outside Scotland during their short career, their association with Nirvana brought major exposure to the band. Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain once described Kelly and McKee as his "favorite songwriters in the whole world". With their songs "Son of a Gun" and "Molly's Lips" covered on Nirvana's album Incesticide and "Jesus Doesn't Want Me for a Sunbeam" covered on MTV Unplugged in New York, the band gained a new audience. I must admit, it’s totally how I heard of them. And thank goodness for that! Gems all of them! Kelly went on to found the band Captain America (later renamed Eugenius after legal threats from Marvel Comics), supporting Nirvana on their UK tour. RRW fans may remember them going quite far from a previous season of RRW. McKee founded the band Suckle and released her first solo album, Sunny Moon, in 2006. Shortly there after the band reformed on occasions and in 2010 they released this, their second full length studio album. “Ruined “ is the first track and it sounds amazing. More ballsy than the older stuff. Very produced and meaty by comparison. Drenched in melody and feedback. “Sex with an X” is the second and title track on the album. This is more like classic Vaselines. Light and jangling but still catchy like the clap (#seewhatididthere)! Following is the creepy, surf-like riffage that makes up the bulk of “The Devil’s Inside Me”. This has early Sub Pop written all over it. In fact, did Kelly find an old notebook or something?! It’s like they never broke up and we’re back in 1990. The Vaselines do such a good job of being both retro AND fresh...this is minimalist art! Beat Happenings anyone? (#seewhatididthere). “Such A Fool” is an example of another such artistic melody. Floating as if on sugar cube clouds, Frances takes lead vocals on this one. Pretty hooks and looks stunning on wax. “Turning it On” brings back the surf inspired leans into the curl and dreamboat Annies (#seewhatididthere). It’s a call and response song, and my response is brilliance. Morrissey would be proud. “Overweight but Over You” has more bounce to the ounce (#seewhatididthere). Fat man rock. An analogy to going under the knife. This is what makes them so good. Unique perspective and writing from unusual examples. Look, no matter how you slice it, this is their first output in nearly 20 years and it is sounding like they never quit. THAT is a talent all it’s own. Consistent and signature sound is everything in music and these guys have that formula down pat. They were one of the first two piece bands and with boy girl harmonies. Hipsters owe this band a LOT. PHENOMENAL.

Dead Boys: Young, Loud, and Snotty (Side II)

Dead Boys are an American punk rock band from Cleveland, Ohio. The band was among the first wave of punk bands, and had a reputation as one of the rowdiest and most violent punk groups of the era. Dead Boys were formed by vocalist Stiv Bators, lead guitarist Cheetah Chrome, rhythm guitarist Jimmy Zero, bassist Jeff Magnum, and drummer Johnny Blitz in 1976, splintering off of the band Rocket From The Tombs. They released two studio albums, Young Loud and Snotty and We Have Come for Your Children. Dead Boys were originally called Frankenstein, and as previously mentioned, they evolved out of the band Rocket From The Tombs . When the band members relocated to New York City in July 1976 at the encouragement of Joey Ramone, they adopted the Dead Boys moniker which came from the RFTT song "Down In Flames". The Dead Boys quickly gained notoriety for their outrageous live performances in the city that never sleeps. Lewd gestures and profanity were the norm. On more than one occasion, lead singer Stiv Bators slashed his stomach with his mic stand. These antics reportedly discouraged any mainstream rock following despite the relative breadth of their material beyond pure punk. Something tells me the Dead Boys didn’t give two shits about that. They frequently played at the rock club CBGB and in 1977 they released this debut album, Young, Loud and Snotty. Their song "Sonic Reducer" from it is often regarded as one of the classics of the punk genre, being covered by countless bands, some as diverse as Pearl Jam. Well, side two of this incendiary record starts off with “Caught With the Meat in Your Mouth”. That rock and roll riff, combined with Cheetah Chrome’s snot, form an animalistic ballistic statistic on this biscuit! Gimme some butter!! A great punch in the face to start. If you had any doubts if this was a punk rawk band, they are immediately shattered. “Hey, Little Girl” has a live-ish nitro. It’s about as laid back as these punx get. Another scorcher with those metallic guitar chords. “I Need Lunch” is next, and probably one of their more recognized tunes. Love that intro! Such poetic power trips here. It’s raw, uncensored, unapologetically sexist and NOT PC. In fact, it’s unadulterated filth and raunch, crawling straight out of an NYC gutter. This is what Dead Boys are known for. This captured well the short lived and self destructiveness of this band. “High Tension Wire” takes a little departure for the band. About as emo as they dare get in the times they lived in. Some good guitar work and a sad lamenting riff are all this song needs to draw you in. Nothing compares to

“Down In Flames”, though. If you listen to one Dead Boys still no in your life, make it this one. O. M. G!!! This song!! SOOOOOO GOOOOOOOD!! Again, the raw power is present and on full display. Guitar tones and fuzz on point! Brilliant screams and bleeds and leads. Even a mental breakdown right in the middle of the song, during the song! Amazing. The guttural throat scrapes are tops!! Look past the sexism and this band IS fucking rock. This is the classic album you always wish your band could write. 2017 re-issue On translucent green vinyl. Think Sex Pistols level greatness but not British, and more underground. The Stooges but on ALL of the drugs. In fact, I think you’ll get a contact high just from touching the record.

The Vaselines came back from the grave to have sex (with an X, apparently) and in doing so, wrote a slew of awesome new tunes. Wow. Re-reading that just now and it sounds pretty gross. Anyhow, They burned 143 calories over 21 minutes and 6 songs. That is 23.83 calories per song and 6.81 calories burned per minute. The Vaselines earned an impressive 15 out of 18 possible stars. The Dead Boys uprooted themselves from Ohio to New York City and became one of America’s most loved punk bands. They’re young, loud, and some of the snottiest punks you’re ever going to hear. Dead Boys burned 113 calories over 5 songs and 15 minutes. That is 22.60 calories burned per song and 7.53 calories burned per minute. The Dead Boys also managed to earn an even more impressive 13 out of 15 possible stars. Looks like those Dead Boys take the cake today!!

Dead Boys: “Down In Flames” (originally a Rocket From The Tombs song)

I just love that vintage footage exists...the audio is shit

https://youtu.be/Z3Cn4z4kYIA

Here is a better audio version

https://youtu.be/ueqTb0_jfMU

If you have half an hour to kill look up the amazing CBGB performance from 1977. It’s like having a time machine.

Oh hell here, I did it for you

https://youtu.be/QOHOM1hVM-M

#Randomrecordworkoutseasonsix

#Randomrecordworkout

[erinlasgalen]

I should post my Yuri on Ice fics too ~

I realized this today lol.

Sooo, enjoy one of the fics I wrote back when the anime  was still ongoing xD

This is who I am, just follow me!    

After the disastrous party, Yuuri eats pirojki, gets kidnapped in the dead of night by a 15 year old secret fan, gets lost in snow, sings a popular (among skaters) song and acquires a new nickname. Not necessarily in that order.

–

It was snowing heavily in Moscow, coating everything and anything in a white blanket. It almost looked like the Earth itself was falling asleep under the lull of the crescent moon that was sparkling with a sneaky glint. It was 4 in the morning and the streets were as quiet as a mother who put her baby to sleep after hours of lulling…

Not even a single murmur could be heard.

“NOOUUUUU!”

Well, except for that unholy hoarse scream that could have woken up the whole neighborhood, that is, if they weren’t walking by the secluded highway that looked like the main setting for a horror movie scene with all the snow around.

What would have looked like an angry grandfather dragging his drunken grandson home for punishment for fooling around with young maidens, was actually a figure skating coach/trainee pair that had gotten a bit lost (not without the immense help from said trainee ) after the party they had disappeared from hours ago.

“I don’t waaaaant t’do another interview”, slurred the younger one, trying to get away from his mentor as fiercely as a drunken kitten, or a piggy, some might say.

Now this boy – well, MAN, was Katsuki Yuuri, Japan’s top figure skater, who always qualified for the finals of every championship there was and always lost spectacularly to everyone. Getting the last place was like his special karma or something. As if he was cursed to always qualify and fail for the whole world to see and laugh.

Nerves, they sure can get to you…scary! Get a grip, Katsuki-san!

Currently, he was cold, wet (partly, his feet were soaked through due to lousy old boots that needed to be changed ASAP!), hungry, and still quite drunk.

“Like hell you don’t!” growled the older man, tightening his vice grip on the boy and dramatically dragging him along the vast nothingness that was Russian Snowfall in the dead of night, or morning.

Whatever.

Now this charming eyebrow (yes he has extremely weird eyebrows that actually grow like that! Talk about hawk eyes…maybe all Italians have unique facial features?) man, was muttering profanities under his breath in a mix of broken English, flawless sexy Italian and extremely weird Japanese ( as if he learned it from watching anime … who the hell talks like that?)

“Not after what you pulled off today at the party! You were supposed to be serious and calm and collected, someone who can deal with anything!” he ranted, pace intensifying along with the force of his grip. Yuuri whimpered. And to think it was him who convinced the heartbroken skater to come to that party…

This man, well, in Yuuri’s eyes a demon currently, was his coach de la italiano, Celestino Cialdini, or “Ciaociao” for short and fluffy. Mind you, the nickname absolutely did NOT come from Phichit’s family dog, King, who coincidentally happened to be a chowchow. Not at all.  He was strict, always to the point and very hard to deal with at times. Also his eyebrows were distracting. And his eyes. The whole image always screamed ‘Lock-on, I am a predator, I’ll eat you alive’. Well, unless you fed him spaghetti or something.

“-..ked, well nearly naked! What was going through that idiot brain of yours at that time? Eh? Eeeeh? Not to mention the pole dancing! Why was there a pole anyways? Who brings a pole to a formal afterparty!!!“

Ah, it seems we got sidetracked a little, let’s get back to our merry duo now, shall we?

“What was that?!” roared the man, ponytail swishing back and forth with the speed they were gaining. It seemed that Yuuri had mumbled a small reply to that rhetorical question, trying to keep his balance and free himself at the same time while stumbling around in knee deep snow.  Luck was on their side or they both would have faceplanted long ago had it been deadly ice.

They would have made charming snow angels! Or devils…

“I said, t’was Chris…”

“Ah, yes”, a snort. “The sparkly eyelashes from Switzerland. Are they all like that? Their men are more feminine than their women!”

Yuuri’s eyes unfocused, remembering a certain Russian skater and their dance. He opened his mouth to say something, probably resembling an "Oh, Victor~” but was cut off with a harsh tug to the middle of the street.

“And you are still not getting off the interview! Come on we need to get a ride! WE are going back to the hotel, YOU are getting some sleep and in the morning YOU and your FABULOUS FLAMENCO self will be giving an interview. And don’t you DARE dodge questions!”

Yuuri gave his best (he practiced on his own sister!) puppy eyes. But of course his coach was immune.

Italians, I say…

Ciaociao narrowed his eagle eyes and grunted, “And no, I will NOT be answering anything in your stead.”

“Bu..but it’s 4! Like, morning 4! Super late night em..early 4!!!”, the whining intensified. “We’re never going t’ find a taxi or ANY car anyways! Can we just…um, you know, just a, uh…”

Well, that really was a problem. Quite a big one, it seemed, I mean, even the angry coach went silent and loosened his grip somewhat, eyes downcast, trying to think of a solution. With both their phones long dead (Celestino’s really WAS dead, as it took a nice long swim during the party in the resident wine pitcher, screen flickering pathetically a few times before dying in the blood of grapes…Yuuri had gone all “Make us free, na splash, kasametta..” at that time, hands together in a silent prayer to the now dead device) it was pretty much impossible to contact anyone or anything.

Why didn’t they keep pagers around anymore?

Yuuri tried to use this momentum to get away. With mysterious ninja-like skills out of nowhere (most probably from all the champagne), he disengaged all his captive limbs and turned to make a beeline to hell knows where, when a beep resonated through the emptiness and an astonishingly white light came right on his frozen face, momentarily blinding him. A screech was heard and a car appeared milliseconds after the light, making an eyebrow raising U-turn and stopping right beside them in a well done drift.

Chris would have approved of it with a low whistle.

The snow whirlwind the driver brought with himself settled down to reveal an old, blue Zaporojets.

A  window rolled down with a little screech along with the layer of snow gathered on it and an enormous furry scarf poked itself outside to greet them.

A few silent minutes they were all blinking at each other, during which it became evident that the ’scarf’ was  actually a human head, wrapped exquisitely in  a white, red and blue patterned  scarf (patriot much?). A small patch of what looked like straw at first was actually hair, the color a magnificent shade of noodles from Yuuri’s beloved katsudon! The only visible part that could be attributed to a human was a sharp, distinctly Russian nose, angry red from the cold and his eyes, a unique blend of grey and green. Those eyes were staring Yuuri down, seizing him.

Yuuri gulped audibly.

Celestino’s left eyebrow started lowering.

“If you need a taxi, I can take you wherever you need to go”, the unknown ‘straw’ spoke up, his sharp, rough English cutting the air like a knife.

Yuuri gulped and took a step back, suddenly becoming keenly aware that they were in the middle of nowhere, without their phones, in the dead of night with their passports in their pockets to top it…

And it was snowing almost as much as Phitchit had shed dandruff from his head that one time when he used the wrong shampoo in Detroit!

“We’ll take that offer, young man! Take us to Aerostar Hotel!”

The stranger grinned so wide that one could see it even with all the mummy scarf wrapping.

Yuuri whimpered once more, dreading the ride.

And dreadful it was, as Yuuri was chewed out by Celestino again and again. And the fact that their stranger Russian driver was right THERE, listening to it all was the worst.

“No, I will not do the interview! I don’t want to talk to the cameras or the people! I don’t want to talk to anyone!” huffed the Japanese, slumping in a defeated lump in the backseat, his drunkedness still evident in the slight ‘whoosh’  his hands were making in the air. “You wanted me to have fun, right? Riiiiight! Well I did, it was my way of loosening up! So WHAT?”

“So what!” the coach took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what! If someone leaks those photos and videos, you are done for! All those years skating and you STILL don’t have a sponsor! There were potential candidates there! Yet you went and ruined it all!”

“What photos? Someone was taking photos?”

A barely audible snort escaped the silent driver. The two in the back ignored him completely.

But the boy kept his eyes trained on the mirror, watching and silently making his own bizarre deductions.

He really should be keeping his eyes on the road though, not to mention BOTH hands on the wheel…

“Yuuri..”

“Ciaociao, pleeeease. I’ll figure something out about the whole sponsorship thing, just..”,he sighed, dejected. “Let me be tomorrow. I really can’t take any reporters, especially after Vicchan..”

His voice broke at the end.

“Let’s just go to the airport! I’ll fly back to Japan, you deal with press!” He sat up with a vigor and gently tapped straw driver’s back. “Please take us to Sheremetyevo, please!”

A hand yanked him back rather sharply.

“Don’t you dare, young man! Straight to the hotel and that’s it!”

“I am NOT doing that interview, Celestino!”

“Oh yes you are! You’re not a Japanese maiden in distress, nor am I chivalrous enough to grant your drunken ass any request! It’s fina-..” His words formed a surprised ‘aaaaaa’ as the engine grunted, screeched like a wet cat and finally came to a stop.“..ah?”

“Wha…whats going on?” demanded the man. Yuuri was looking back and forth, discreetly smelling the air for any kind of weird pre-explosion smoke or something. The grin on his face was a little unnerving though.

The blondie shrugged, turning the key in the ignition a few times in a futile attempt to make it work again.

“Brat!”

“Um…right! We’re gona have to push…” the boy said, already getting out of the car. “It’ll go back up once we give it a little nudge".

The cold air hit Yuuri and he snapped out whatever evil horror trance he had gotten himself into. As he opened the door to get out as well, the blonde snapped it close with a leer. “We need some weight to be inside, you stay, piggy. Mr. Ciaobrows, you come push from the back.”

Yuuri snorted at the nickname, then burst into full blown laughter, not even bothering to smother his guffaws.

Celestino threw his a dirty glare and heavily shuffled out, leaving an almost crying Yuuri inside.

Merrily, they pushed the car in the snow, the Italian old man pushing from the back, the blonde youth pushing right beside the front seat, the door open. Step by step, the vehicle inched forward. Then just as Celestino was starting to feel the burn of muscles in his arms, the blonde hopped into the front seat, with the agility of a tiger, turned the key, bringing the dead engine back to life and the car sped away, leaving the poor coach to scream after them incredulously.

Funny thing was, Yuuri himself was screaming as well.

“Oh shut it!”, yelled the boy, snapping the door shut and turning around to face the Japanese. Yuuri snapped his mouth shut in sheer bewilderment from the death glare (he had to work on it, it looked too cute to be scary) the child was giving him. Yes child.

Somewhere in the process of all this he had unwrapped his scarf. Now it hung low on his neck, exposing his youthful features to the one and only passenger. He was incredibly cute. Women would swoon at his mare glance in the future. Honestly, Russians…

Dimly, Yuuri noted that this he was probably around 17 years old, if not younger. And this child had just kidnapped him.

Cute.

And weird. And scary. And I’m never going to see Kaa-san and Mari nee-chan again!

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Yuuri asked.

“Wh..where are we going?”

“What do you mean where? The airport of course!”

“Ah, of course! Wait who decided that?” He stared at the mirror, trying to be intimidating. Somewhere at the back of his mind he made a note that lighter colored eyes were automatically more intimidating. Right…

“What do you mean who? Yuri, of course!”

Yuuri put a hand to his heart, “I did NOT!”

The teen swung around to face him, one hand still on the wheel.

“Who the hell said anything about YOU, piggy? I said Yuri did, Yuri!”

“Ah…watch the road, please?”

He got an angry huff as a reply.

This kid was precious…like a cinnamon roll.

“So, Yuri who again? Decided, I mean, that we are going to the airport?”

“Plisetsky, remember that! Yuri Plisetsky did!”

“And..who is Yuri Plisetsky?”

“Me!”

“Oh….”

They spend a few more minutes in silence.

“Celestino is alone out there, in the cold, we really should go back. Yuri-cha~n, stop playing around.”

The car came to a halt, making Yuuri collide with the back of the front seat. While he was nursing his nose, the boy fully faced him, nearly hanging off the seat. His expression was a mix between anger, guilt and admiration.

This baffled the skater to silence.

“You wanted to go back to your Japan, right? If we go back now, you’ll have to do that interview! Right?!”

“Yuri-cha-..”

“Stop! Don’t call me Yuri-chan!”

“Yurio then?”

“Wha? NO, no no no!” the blonde reached towards his almost namesake, hands posed as if to strangle him.

“Yurio, he is-..”

“Evil, manipulating, heartless, eyebrow man! The perfect villain! Besides, I actually messaged the taxi center for a car. He will have a ride anyways. What do you say?!”

Yuuri considered it for a minute, finger nearly in his mouth from his thinking pose. Yuri the Smaller raised a perfect eyebrow at the all too familiar gesture a certain playboy had.

“Okay!”

“Okay?”

“Uuun, Okay!!!”

When the old radio croaked to life, Yuuri was in the front, and the boys were munching on some pirojki and having a nice, pleasant chat about this and that (“how old are you Yurio?” “Don’t call me..- uh whatever! I’m fifteen!” “Fif….teen. Ah. I see. WHO THE HELL LET YOU DRIVE? DO YOU EVEN HAVE A LICENSE?” “IF YOU YELL, PIGGY, I YELL TOO! And no, of course I don’t!  But my grandpa lets me drive for practice! I’m goo~d, right? Right?”).

The old player was ignored mostly, until a certain song popped up.

Yuuri started humming almost on autopilot.

“Taaaam, tam pam, paaam, and the starry sky, spreading above~…”

Yuri glanced at him, eyes wide and staring.  The Japanese skated grinned. “I love this song. Actually all the skaters my age  and younger adore it.”

“Really”, Yuri inquired in a slightly disbelieving voice. “No one in my class knows it..like no one! But I really like it! My uncle hates it though…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. No one in my course knows it either, besides me and my roommate Phichit! But he’s a skater, so it’s kind of …Yeah.”, he trailed off, tapping his foot to the beat. “None of the older skaters like it though. Chris always ‘stage vomits’ when he hears it and Victor…ah..”

Yuri smiles mischievously and nods. Yuuri taps his foot, Smallish Yuri taps his fingers on the wheel. On an signal none of them even agreed on, they both started.

“I can rule the world,  JJ, just follow me, I will break the walls, now look at me”, they sing/scream simultaneously, each pointing to themselves like over washed drama queens. “..also be the blind side of the enemy, this is who I am, just remember me..”

Yuuri sprawls himself on the blonde’s lap like a cat not even thinking that this child was actually driving. Yuri glances at him, face flushed from the adrenaline rush and sheer happiness of being able to sing his favorite song with someone who actually knew the lyrics.

“I’M THE KING JJ, NO ONE DEFEATS ME, THIS IS WHO I AM BABY, just follow me..-”

Yuuri raises his hands up like a conductor, while Yuri fake-longingly stares out of the window, eyes downcast.

“..just follow me off the ground”, they sing softly, then burst in a  fit of giggles.

In case you are wondering, no, they didn’t crash on the way, yes, they reached the airport, yes, a certain phone was put to charge and bombarded with missed call messages from a certain coach who seemed to be back in the hotel already, no, Yuuri didn’t return to him, yes, indeed he actually left for Japan, of course not before giving his almost namesake a hug and a promise to sing together again in the dead on night.

Wonderful memories, right?

In case you were also wondering, yes, Yuuri did forget everything after the 9 hour beauty sleep he got on the plane.

Shame…

Well, don’t worry, in a few month those two will see each other once more, when Yuri follows his wayward uncle on his quest of self-discovery ( really, for a man who should be settling down with a  family, self-discovery at his age? Pathetic!), love and inspiration to Japan.

More specifically, for a certain piggy who could hit all the highest notes like a pro in his most favourite song of his most hated singer/skater.

Honestly, JJ should go to hell.

But, maybe record a few songs before that…

Omake:

The car was safely parked in the garage and Yuri Plisetski was munching on the remaining potato bun. “Yuuri is interesting.”, he mused out to the wide sky. “It’s a shame he butchered the performance. Though, the choreography sucked so much.. ugh. But, I’m glad i got to see him!”. He chuckled and took another big bite. Yuuri was his idol, that one and only skater he admired. And it was all because he saw that performance, back when Yuuri was 12. His very first one, and, well the only one he won. Since then Little Yuri followed his namesake’s every move. He even has a photo collection in his phone.

With a password, so no one snoops. A certain silverette no one, that is.

“Well Victor sucks. Still don’t get how that idiot didn’t even recognize .. uh, idiot, stupid Victor!”, he ranted, stuffing the rest of the pirojok in his mouth in one go.  Yeah his uncle ( in reality he adored him probably as much as Yuuri) was an airhead, the biggest idiot the world could have.

Wiping his slightly greasy hands on his jeans like any teenage brat would, he huffed, rolled his shoulders and went on to undertake new mission - sneaking home unnoticed.

“YURI PLISETSKIY! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!”

“Uhh..”

[chokememrstark]

Requiem Of Memories // Part 3

Ship: Samifer (Sam Winchester / Lucifer)

Words: 2080 (Chapter 3 / 15)

Fic Summary: Sam can't tell how long he has been in this room already, the days just seem to blur together all the time. One night, however, Sam decides to use the bit of energy he has to go and find Lucifer. He had no idea what nightmare he was stumbling into.

angst, hurt & comfort, alternative universe, au!lucifer, mourning, depression, blood and gore, nightmares, loneliness

Note: I highly recommend to read Nightmares Become Reality before this, otherwise the premise of the story and the setting might not make much sense.

Tagging: @shebahda @sassysupernaturalsweetheart  @spnyoucantkeepmedown   @brieflymaximumprincess  @kajuned @archingangel @this-darkness-light @dreamreaded @secretlydaydreaminglifeaway @humongouscandycoffee

If you want off the tag list or want to be added, just drop me an ask or IM!

Read on AO3!

 The days kind of blurred into each other, Sam's only indicator of time was the sky outside and even that was dubious at best. There were moments when he wanted to just find something sharp and end it, other times he wondered if there might be a reason to all of this he couldn't see yet. Three times a day he was brought food, sometimes he didn't even notice the demons doing that because he was sleeping like a corpse, but when he did there was never a nice word or even so much as a smile. Lucifer might think his servants or whatever he called them would treat Sam with respect, the hunter didn't feel like it.

 A few times Lucifer himself showed up, which was something that made Sam feel very strange. At any given moment, Lucifer was very polite, even though kind of cold and Sam didn’t know why he acted the way he did. Even less he could understand the strange warmth in his stomach when Lucifer spoke - not that he didn’t know what this feeling was but he hated himself for not being able to stop it. When Lucifer left Sam again, the hunter simply stared at the door for a few minutes before laying down on his bed and sighing.

 This wasn’t right, not even a bit. He wanted to hate this Lucifer, wanted to hate him for not saving his own angel and for not being able to send him back, but no matter how hard he wanted to, he simply couldn’t. It started with the way this Lucifer looked, which made even looking at him hard without his throat tightening. Then there were his manners - the way he talked, moved his hands or even tilted his head - that made it nearly impossible for Sam to not see his own Lucifer in him. He really tried to difference the two Lucifers but with every day that passed his success was slimmer and slimmer. By the time about two weeks had passed, Sam’s feelings were completely messed up.

 Sam was weakened by just laying in his bed all the time and barely eating, but that didn’t stop him from one night just getting up and leaving his room. He didn’t know why, but he needed to talk to Lucifer - ask him what all this was about, why he kept him here instead of throwing him out, even though he didn’t even know him. And if he was honest - which he wasn’t, at least not with himself - the loneliness was killing him.

 He had no idea how late it was when he stepped out of his room for the first time, but it was freezing cold, so much that he actually began to shiver a little. It was pitch black, apart from the small oil lamp he had taken with him just in case and that just proved a small circle of light. For a brief moment he contemplated about just going back and waiting for the angel to come to him instead. It would take a few days at most, but what then? Would he still have the strength to ask for answers then, or would he just sit on his bed in silence again, hating himself and this mess he was in? No, he had to do this now, cold or not, night or not. If he didn’t find Lucifer he could always just go back or call for him after all.

 Determined to use this bit of energy that allowed him to move right now, whether it would end up with answers or not, Sam began to walk into the darkness. He ignored the stinging cold the best he could, holding the lamp in front of him to at least see where he put his feet. It was still almost impossible to see anything clear and he more than once hit something hard with his foot or elbow. There were thrown over tables and chairs in his path, broken bottles and paper everywhere - as if a desk had exploded or something. He didn’t even want to know, not really. The second room was almost as bad, though there was no paper here, just more smashed furniture.

 Even worse than the demolished rooms, however, was the air. It was thick and humid, making it hard for Sam to breathe and whenever he did, he tasted salt on his tongue. And there were flies. Not only a few, but dozens buzzing around him and forcing him to shoo them away to not accidentally swallow one while trying to breathe. Whatever this place was, it was disgusting.

 Sam reached another door frame and leaned against it for a moment, catching his breath and calming down from the exhaustion that started to creep up. He didn’t know why this little bit of walking drained him so much, but he had to go on. He just had to.

 Pushing himself off the door frame with all his strength, Sam forced himself to keep going. This room seemed to be bigger, with some doors to his right, but much less destruction somehow. By now he got used to the buzzing around him and a different sound became obvious: the howling of wind. There was no way to tell where it came from because it seemed to be everywhere, but every once in awhile the howling carried something else with it, which sent shivers down Sam’s spine. It sounded like someone groaning in pain and misery, but somehow faint, as if it was just a distant memory.

 Sam swallowed the lump that had built up in his throat down and kept going. Halfway through whatever room he was in, he suddenly heard a metallic screeching and stopped dead in his tracks. He held his breath, just listening to what would follow. The screeching didn’t come back, but there was banging now, as if… as if someone - or something - was banging on metal doors. No, that couldn’t be. Impossible. Sam summoned all his courage and began walking again, much faster this time and barely lightening his way anymore, which led to him being stopped abruptly after a few steps. He had run face forward into what felt like a wall of steel.

 Screaming in pain and grabbing his face with his free hand, Sam stumbled back and let out a series of vulgar curses. When he finally stopped with the profanities, he angrily lifted the lamp again to look at the obstacle in his way. He was close with the steel wall, but it wasn’t that - he had run into a set of thick iron bars.

 “This is a freaking prison!” Sam hissed, followed by an unamused laugh that was more fear than relief. The pain was almost forgotten already, even if his head was pulsating now.

 Sam stepped closer to the bars, careful this time, and grabbed one of them. They were even colder than the air around him, with shards all around and visibly rusted. Slowly, Sam walked along the wall of bars, quickly finding a difference in texture - a door. He pushed it open and stepped into the next room, which had more iron bars to his right and apparently a corridor in front of him. He took a deep breath, debating his options.

 So, Lucifer had brought him to a prison, that much he knew now. He still had no idea where the hell he actually was, but it was something. He could somewhat imagine how big the place was now, but he still had no idea where to find Lucifer. For a moment, Sam wanted to just keep going straight ahead, hoping he would find him there, but somehow that seemed like a bad idea. Instead he turned right and stepped through two more iron doors that looked like they had been violently ripped out of their frames. He didn’t want to imagine who had done this, so he suppressed the question as soon as his mind came up with it.

 There was one more door, but this one was not made of iron bars. If it would have been closed, Sam was sure he couldn’t have opened it, but it wasn’t. As he walked up closer, he couldn’t help but look at the sheer thickness of the metal and notice the deep scratches all over it. Another thing to give him goosebumps, great. There was still this tiny voice inside of his head that told him this was a very bad idea, but Sam ignored it the best he could. It was too late to turn back now anyways.

 Because his eyes had adjusted a little better to the darkness by now, Sam was able to take in more of his surroundings. When he saw where he was and how devastated the place was, however, he wished he couldn’t see a damn thing. He had entered the cellblock, apparently, and it looked like the set from a very bad horror movie. Chains were hanging from the ceilings, cell doors were ripped out and covering the ground and not a single cell was undemolished. Toilets were smashed, beds were shred into pieces and wherever he stepped there was glass and pieces of stone under his feet. And, worse than all of this, was the groaning and screeching that was even more intense here. Every cell in Sam’s body was on high alert as he slowly made his way through the block.

 After a few minutes - Sam was looking up at the chains at this point - the hunter suddenly stepped into something strange. He slowly looked down at what the light revealed and jumped back in horror when he realized that it was blood and that it was still wet. Sam spun around, almost panicking, when a laughter echoed through the whole complex, making him shiver from head to toes. He kept turning, trying to figure out where the laughter came from and if he was going to get attacked but it didn’t take long before his balance was gone and he was forced to hold onto something to not fall down, which happened to be a wall behind him.

 The few seconds it took him to realize that his fingers were touching something warm and moving were enough to wish he wouldn’t have left his room in the first place. Almost in slow motion, Sam turned his head and stared at his hand with wide eyes. The thing he was touching was a human arm. Chains of spiked metal held it in place, the flesh rotting and black, with maggots crawling through thick pus and making the most disgusting noise he had ever heard. Sam jumped back within a matter of seconds, but he couldn’t force his eyes away and when he felt that his stomach was about to empty itself, he dropped the lamp in his hand and covered his mouth with both of them. Before his brain could even process the sound of the lamp shattering, Sam’s stomach cramped and he just let it happen.

 It seemed like hours that Sam gagged and his stomach tightened again and again, even when all he produced was dry coughing it wouldn’t stop. And all through it, this creepy and taunting laughter echoed through the block, now even worse because Sam’s only light source was gone for good. Eventually, he managed to regain enough control over his body to stand back up. He immediately looked back at the wall, bracing himself for what he was about to lay eyes on, but the wall was empty apart from some hooks and broken concrete.

 “What the hell…” Sam whispered and took a step back, immediately stumbling over a chair that had not been there just a second before and landed harsh on his back. He let out a pain filled groan, which was followed by another horrifying giggling from the distance. By now, Sam had had enough and really just wanted to get to his bed, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen anytime soon. Before he could even get up on his feet again, all chains that were hanging from the ceilings began to rattle and whisper. Sam looked up, starting to crawl backwards, but not even a second later the chains were darting down, right towards him. Sam was frozen in place, staring at the chains coming closer and there was nothing he could do - he couldn’t even scream at his inevitable death.

[kitanoko]

How about todomomo getting caught (either by aizawa-sensei or another student) making out? I think this would be hilarious XD

Note: Hope you enjoy! School festival version :) Sorry its been eons since this ask was sent and I only finished it now. Mainly humour + fluff

In which Class A does a maid cafe

“So it’s time for our last annual school festival,everyone,” Iida fixed his glasses as he slid the door behind him to a close.All eyes were on him. Through the window, crisp autumn fog and dewy grassgreeted the start of their morning.

“Iida spill it,” Kaminari called out, “What are we assignedthis year? For the past two years, we weren’t able to get what we wanted.”

“I don’t want anything to do with this,” Bakugou added, chinon his desk, “I fucking hate school festivals. Last year, we had to do the shitty…what was it again? Julio and Romiette?”

“Romeo and Juliet, Kacchan.”

“Shut up Deku, I knew that, I fucking played Julio.”

Iida tapped his fingers impatiently on the wooden surface ofthe podium, waiting for the troublemakers to quiet down. When he saw Bakugousnap his mouth shut with boredom emitting from his expression alone, Iidastraightened up.

“This year, we got EXACTLY what we wanted. After all, we arethird years, so we get first choice.”

Kaminari’s gasp was the start of the domino effect.  Everyone cheered and clapped with happy facesall around. The Class President held his hand up to calm his audience down,clearly having anticipated their uproar.

“Since, we will be doing the ‘maid café’ theme this year,why don’t we start by delegating tasks?”

~~

“Hurry! Kirishima, please set up the rest of the tables onthe left side of the class!”

“I got it Iida. Let Hagakure and Ojiro know that they forgotcandles on some of the tables.”

With only 15 minutes to spare, their class was almost ready.A makeshift tent, which was really just a bunch of chairs stacked up with alarge curtain hanging over, collapsed; yells of profanity broadcasted acrossthe room. Under the chair tetris came Bakugou, pulling his black tight skirtdown to hide more of his skin. His bare shoulders were covered with white laceand frills while the rest of him became adorned with flowers from his floralapron.

“Oh my god, he actually wore it,” Kirishima mused, tearsfalling from laughter. His eyes widened at the idea that just popped in his headand took out his phone to snap pictures along with a few others. The subject ofentertainment was wrestling around like a wild beast in a cage.

“STOP LAUGHING. SHUT THE FCK UP,” Bakugou yelled, fingerspointing, “NO PICTURES. WHAT ARE YOU DOING MINETA, IMMA CRUSH YOUR GRAPES SOHARD YOU-“

“You reap what you sow,” Jirou raised her arms, securingher own apron, “who told you to fall asleep when we were discussing the roles.It’s your bad luck that the only position left was the sixth maid.”

The boy was red with anger and embarrassment, “WHY CAN’T IJUST BE A HOST LIKE ALL THE OTHER SHITHEADS.”

Jirou shook her head, the knot behind her neck finally madetight enough, “Because the maid outfit was the only thing that’s left! How manytimes did Iida tell you, holy crap!”

Bakugou didn’t bother to reply and grunted. In the corner ofhis eye, Kirishima pushed his phone in front of Kaminari, pointing at thescreen. Kaminari covered his mouth, chuckling, and whispered into his friend’sear, prompting the latter to nod incessantly. Something was brewing amongstthose two and Bakugou wasn’t ready to find out.

Jirou looked over to the back corner of the room. Below thedangling banners, portable stove tops and grills now replaced the normal deskformation. Yaoyorozu stood there, fixing Todoroki’s uniform. Todoroki, beingone of the hosts along with Kaminari, Kirishima, and Midoriya, donned a silverneck tie over a white dress shirt with black pinstripes. Opposite of him wasYaoyorozu wearing the same outfit as Bakugou (except looking a thousand timesmore attractive, Todoroki must say) and she had her hair done in a bun.

“Todoroki, I think it looks better now,” Yaoyorozu pressedthe wrinkle out of the front of his tie, “If you have trouble with it again,let me know.”

“Thanks,” The fire and ice hero said, “Sorry, I’m not reallygood with ties. My sister used to always do the Windsor knot. I have no clue asto what it even is.”

It’s these types of small talks with him that made herhappy.

“Of course! I’m always here to help!” Yaoyorozu answered, cheeksglowing, “I must allow Tokoyami and Sato to take their positions now.” She dida slight bow out of habit and continued, “Let’s have fun together!”

“Ah, sure,” Todoroki smiled back.

The two stepped away from the cooking station just asTokoyami and Sato entered. No one knew how good Tokoyami’s yakisoba and Sato’sdorayaki was until they were the first to volunteer for the chef roles. Afterthe first taste test, everyone knew they were fit for the job.

~~

When Kaminari opened the door signalling the start of theirbusiness, there were already parents and students from other departments inqueue, waiting to be seated. Iida was in his element, shuffling his ‘staff’along (he insisted that he was the café manager) and made sure operations wentsmoothly. Midoriya had a crowd of girls surround him whenever he took orders toUraraka’s obvious dismay, who acted like she didn’t give a rat’s ass butactually did. Bakugou kept screaming at Monoma to leave but achieved thereverse effect instead.

“When will I ever get the chance to see YOU OF ALL PEOPLE ina maid outfit?!”  Monoma had said with anarrogant grin chiselled onto his face. If it weren’t for the law, Bakugouwould’ve straight up strangled him alive.

Around 1pm, the smiles began to peel off their faces. Rushhour was still in session and everyone was beyond fatigued.

Tokoyami was running out of soba noodles too, which was thebestselling item.

“Can someone run to the storage,” the birdman was stirfryingwhile speaking, eyes not leaving the pan, “I’m almost out.”

Bakugou scoffed, “Hell no, I ain’t leaving this mothereffin’room in this girly shit.”

Tokoyami wiped the sweat with the back of his hand, “Come onman, I need it.”

“I’ll get it.”

It was Todoroki.

He pushed away his many fangirls who had their notebooks andpens extended in hopes to get his autograph, and Yaoyorozu came forward also,noticing Tokoyami’s concern.

“I can help you carry as well, Todoroki.”

“Just stay here,” the boy suggested. Thinking about how moreguys would ogle Yaoyorozu in maid attire irked him. She should stay here, awayfrom the halls where the perverts roam. Though he still had Mineta to worryabout.

Yaoyorozu blinked a few times, unsure of why he was soadamant on her staying.

“You two should both go. I saw two big boxes of noodles inthere and one guy can’t carry them all,” Tokoyami replied, obliviouslydestroying any forms of hope that Todoroki had.

He wanted to object some more but that would make it toosuspicious. Todoroki sighed. Guess there was no other way.

~~

“Yaoyorozu, do you see it?”

The two of them were scrutinizing every word that wasprinted on the cardboard boxes which lined the shelves. None of them said soba.

“No,” the girl tiptoed a little, “if you don’t mind, howabout I climb onto your shoulders and you lift me up? I think that’d beeasier.”

Did she forget about how short her skirt was? Being in sucha small room made every motion of their bodies graze against each other. Hecould feel the warmth of her breath tickle his neck.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Todoroki quickly turnedhis back to her, afraid he might say something stupid. Images of Yaoyorozu in my head, begone!

“Why not?” Yaoyorozu was pouting, “Tokoyami is relying onus! We must find it!”

Her sense of responsibility would be the end of him. Andher.

Before he could prepare a counter fit for a lawyer,Yaoyorozu let out a surprised yelp, arms swinging to maintain balance.Todoroki’s fast reflexes caused him to spin around, reaching to catch herflying form. Falling face first, her body weight settled on him. Given thegravity of the situation, it was lucky that Todoroki plunged backwards onto apile of empty flattened boxes with Yaoyorozu (skirt lifted and her apron indisarray, amongst other things) in his arms.

“Crap,” Todoroki rubbed a growing bump on the back of hishead. That hurt more than when Bakugou kicked him in the shin yesterday.

Yaoyorozu supported herself up from his chest, accidentallypulling his tie loose, “I’m so sorry! Are you alright? I tripped over a brokentile on the floor and –“

“Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal, “Todoroki grumbled, “Justbe careful next time.”

The girl’s gaze lowered, having no care for herself, andnoticed that they were literally pressed together, faces barely centimetersapart. She picked up her head, examining his translucent irises. They were theprettiest thing she had ever taken a note of, and he stared back at her. They wereso close and in such a compromising position. So damn close.

Her mouth began to open agape, wanting to bring thediscomfort to a permanent close. But rather than listen to whatever she had inmind, Todoroki leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers. Yaoyorozu’schest heaved once. Her eyes grew wide, thoughts spiralling into a mess that shehad no desire to reorganize. The boy held onto her waist tighter, as if hewanted her to know that she was his alone, and after a minute, he pulled back.Both of them hurried to catch their breath, smiles teasing.

“I want…more, Todoroki, “Yaoyorozu gasped, “Please-“

Her sentence fell to an abrupt silence as he flipped herover.

“I guess Tokoyami’s gonna have to wait awhile.”

His tone was sensual and his voice aroused her interest evenmore than usual. Within seconds, their lips touched again. She wanted to askhim if he was enjoying it himself, but decided the way he let out the deep moanjust now answered her question. Annoyed at the tie that fastened around hisneck, her nimble fingers untwisted the knot, hauling it off him. He lookedrelieved at the sudden freedom and found his hand trailing up her skirt.

The tips of his fingers stopped right below the string ofher thongs and both of them reciprocated their horror in the middle of tuggingbreaths.

What is that horrifyingsound outside the door?

The door slammed open, hinges about to give in.

“YO GUYS, DID YOU-“Bakugou cried out, right leg lifted from the kick on the door. He still had hismaid outfit on but that wasn’t what he had issue with at that very moment.

“What the actual …fck,” His voice became feeble. The two,still lying on top of each other, stared back at their intruding guest,wondering what to do next.

Bakugou’s fight orflight response surged, retreating away from the obscene sight that he justlaid his bare eyes on.

“Wait!” Yaoyorozu cried as Todoroki scrambled to get himselfupright, “It is not what you’re thinking!”

“WHERE THE FCK IS THE BLEACH, WHAT THE SHIT JUST HAPPENED,WHAT THE-“

“Calm down! Nothing happened!” Yaoyorozu said again, takinga glimpse at a quiet Todoroki. She extended an arm to catch Bakugou’s shoulder,“Could you listen?”

“BIRD GUY SAID YOU TWO SHITS WERE GETTING THE BOXES AND YOUGUYS FRIGGIN’ GO MISSING FOR TWENTY MINUTES,” Bakugou shoved her hand away asif she had the plague, “AND TURNS OUT YOU TWO WERE STICKING YOUR TONGUES DOWNEACH OTHER’S THROATS?”

Disgust was etched deep on his face and Todoroki finallytook a step forward, hands reaching down to grab the tie under him. Bakugoudidn’t faze him one bit.

“If you choose to tell the others, I don’t really care,” wasall Todoroki uttered, and began to drag Yaoyorozu along the halls; she,however, was flabbergasted at his implication.

Bakugou watched as they left, silenced by Todoroki’sstraightforwardness. He thought for a second whether he was trying to provokehim. Bakugou could make anything related to Todoroki a challenge.

The reflections from nearby windows that whirled by the two madeYaoyorozu even more stunned. They were a mess. Unkempt hair and clothes dishevelled.Frankly, everyone else was upstairs enjoying the festival so they had time togussy up.

She took a glance back at Bakugou’s receding figure and wantedto giggle. He looked like an angry lost lamb in an apron about to explode.

~~

“Job well done, everyone!” Iida shouted as he did a bow infront of the class. The students slumped down on chairs and empty tables withhowever much energy they had left from the day’s work. Smiles gleaming, a fewpeople gave each other a thumb’s up.

“Tokoyami, we are so sorry,” Yaoyorozu turned to apologize andTodoroki did a nod, “And Bakugou, thank you for grabbing the boxes at the end.We couldn’t find it at all!”

Bakugou didn’t face them, arms crossed. Yaoyorozu was quitegood at acting.

“They were underneath the shelf, not on the racks,” Bakugougroaned, and his voice turned more like a whisper, “not that you two werelooking for them anyway.”

“What did you say? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Shut it, I didn’t say nothin’.”

Todoroki did a lopsided grin. Bakugou was probably too embarassed to tell anyone about his encounter. Either that or he actually had a heart. 

“Speaking of which, you knowthat your picture is being circulated as the newest mobile wallpaper right?”

“WHAT?” Bakugou shot up from his seat, “FCKING SHIT. GREATNOW I GOTTA DEAL WITH THIS TOO? KIRISHIMA WAS IT YOU?!”

Yaoyorozu and Todoroki exchanged knowing glances as Bakugouchased the red riot hero down. 

Their secret should be safe for awhile. 

[yeslabyrinth]

PUNCHING UP & POLITICS IN IMPROV

I  remember when I first started teaching, I was really excited to get to pass on my love of improv to the students. At the end of the very first round of classes, we had students fill out a questionnaire of how the classes went, and what we could improve upon. I received mostly great feedback, but there was one point of criticism that I got from multiple students. I was too nice. The thing is, I knew it too, but I was new, and just wanted everyone to like me. What really ate me up inside, although it was not addressed specifically in the feedback, is I remember a couple situations where people touched on some characters, or games, I would describe as  being insensitive at best, or sexist at worst. When these incidents happened, I barely said a word about it, and tried to keep moving on. I still regret doing that till this day.

 As a teacher, everyone in the room is looking for you to be honest with them. It doesn't mean you have to scream, or kick a chair across the room to get people's attention, but it means you need to be able to recognize bullshit in your classroom, and shut it down. If people are talking while other people are doing a scene, you have to shut it down, and have them respect their fellow students, and the art itself. If someone habitually shows up 15 minutes late to class unannounced, you have to tell them to get their head on straight, or to not come at all. Our improv family is like a family. We care about each other, and caring means being honest with people, and telling them when they're fucking up, and with racist/sexist/homophobic humor, it means telling them that their humor is not only not going to be funny to most people, but something they should feel ashamed of, even if they didn't mean to offend anyone.

 After my first round of teaching, I decided I need to start telling my students about the concept of "punching up" in comedy. By punching up, I mean that we want to aim our punches up, and we don't want to punch down at people who are already in a position of less power in our society. People of color, women, people with disabilities, or anyone who has a trait that they have no control over, like speech impediments. These people are already taken advantage of in society, and in comedy, and have been for years. They were degraded, stereotypes were manufactured about them, they’ve been made to feel ashamed of for who they are, and so making jokes about their color, their gender, their age, their sexual orientation, etc. is a low joke that isn't only going to ostracize any members of your audience who belong to that subgroup, or to anyone in the audience who doesn't find making fun of these people funny, but it is also going to create divisions within your own improv team, and community.

 "But Bobby, this sounds like some PC BS, and aren't there great comedians who talk about race, and gender? Aren't comedians supposed to push the boundaries of what is funny? To make jokes about any, and everything?" First off, the PC police is not a thing. If someone says something that offends some people, those people have the right to say they were offended. It's literally their First Amendment right, and if that offends the person who said the original thing deemed offensive, than guess what? They can say so. So, yeah, PC police is not a thing, and more often than not, people use that as an excuse for a joke they made that no one found funny, instead of just writing better jokes.

  As for pushing boundaries in comedy, yes, historically stand-up comedy has been a place to push the boundaries of thinking in society. Lenny Bruce, George Carlin, Richard Pryor, etc. have pushed the general public's thinking on ideas like religion, profanity, inequality, and injustice, but remember, these are all stand-up comedians. They had the luxury of getting to pick their words carefully, and to paint the exact picture they intended to paint. In improv, we don't have that luxury. We're making all this up, and to try to navigate the treacherous roads of political commentary can be tricky. For instance, we're taught in improv to embrace being dumb/silly/ugly characters, which is true, but often in a scene if you try to play a person who has any kind of POV that punches down, you're going to have a bad time. It can be hard for the audience to distinguish, "is this white man playing a character who doesn't like immigrants, or does he really not like immigrants?" Your joke, as well intentioned as it is, and as much as you're following good improv technique, can end up coming across as ignorant, mean, or blatantly racist/sexist.

"So, are we just not supposed to address anything taboo, or political? You suck, Bobby."

Well, to be honest, it's a hard time to be a political comedian right now. With a president who is literally from a reality tv show, and whose actions make people think, "is he joking?", to people using lies painted as truths, to the amount of lifting up the carpet to see the roaches underneath, political comedy can come across as just oblivious to how sad our world is. Conservatives don't like Trump jokes because they agree with him, liberals don't like them because they don't find them any less absurd than the truth, and everyone in the middle is just sick of hearing about it. Again, not to say you can't touch on politics, but you also have to mindful of these things, and your audience. 

So, to end this post, let me say a couple quick things. If you really want to touch on taboos with your improv, or make jokes about politics, race, sex, etc., here is the best way to go about it.

1) Have your group made up of mostly women, and people of color. By having these people from these underrepresented points of view in your set, they can be the ones to choose if they want to talk about these subjects. They will have observations on these topics coming from their own very real experiences. Let the improv stage be a place where THEY can decide to talk about these things if they want. Lord knows we don't need more white males telling us they are over social justice, or over PC blah blah blah blah

(PS- Do this first step regardless of what kind of improv you want to do!)

and,

2) Punch up. If in our sets, we unfortunately stumble into that scene where one of us is a neighbor who wants to deport his Latino neighbors, let's make sure that we're throwing our punches at this bigoted character. Paint them as the idiot, the crazy person, the one with the weird POV. Remember, for our scene to have a game, we need something that BREAKS from the pattern of normality. Unfortunately, someone wanting to deport their fellow citizens just because they come from a different country is all too real. We don’t want to see this bigoted character just be bigoted to people. If at all possible, it would be nice to show some justice being done for the people this character has deported. To get what so often people can’t get in real life. What if this person falls in love with an immigrant? Do they still hold this belief? What if they want to deport everyone to their native country and thus they get deported back to Europe?  If we ever stumble into these kind of scenes with bigoted characters, let’s try to show our audience how stupid these ideas are when we extrapolate on them.  

[unabashedly-unique]

Teen Wolf Fanfiction: Chapter 1

Hunter's POV

"Cameron, have you seen my leather jacket?" I asked, looking through my messy closet. She came out of my bathroom finishing up her makeup, and into my room. She was holding the black jacket.

"Here it is,you hung it up behind the door." she said, holding it up with one finger. "Where's your hairbrush?"

"Uh, on my dresser." Cameron pulled her red hair down from the ponytail it was in and brushed the knots out.

"Hurry up Cameron, or we're gonna be late. It's the first lacrosse game of Beacon Hills High School, and we haven't even been there yet." I went over to my closet and took out my wedge sneakers. I slipped them on and grabbed my car keys.

"Alright, alright! Calm down, God!" Cameron grumbled.

"I'll be downstairs, waiting for you in the car." I shouted to Cameron, already heading down the stairs. I looked for my silver Camry in the dark, abandoned streets. Finally I found the car and ran to it. I climbed inside and turned it on, the engine roaring. Turning the heat on, I took out my phone and texted my friend, Henry:

ME: Hey, r u there yet or ru on the way?

HENRY: I'm here I saved u guys seats

ME: Ok great :), we'll be there in 15 min if Cameron hurrys up!

HENRY: lol. Ok cya :)

Henry has been our friends since 2nd grade. Cameron had this small crush on him forever, but never told him. She was about to tell him, but it was too late, she already found out he had a long-distance boyfriend that was never mentioned and we never met.

"Sorry I took a while." Cameron said entering the passenger's seat of the car and putting on a hoodie. " I lost little track of time."

"A little? You still trying to impress Henry?" I said sarcastically raising my eyebrow and looking her up and down. She put on her seatbelt and gave me the finger. I grinned and drove off to the high school.

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

"Hunter! Cameron! Over here!" Henry called out from the bleachers. We slowly made our way over to the boys through the big crowd. Cameron spotted the hot dog stand and told me that she was going to go get a hot dog. I told her to get me one and that I'd be waiting for her at our bleachers. I sat down next to Henry and I said hi and greeted him and his boyfriend. Then we sat in comfortable silence until Cam got back.

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

Cameron's POV

I walked to the cart practically skipping with happiness. For some weird reason I loved the hot dogs that were sold at high school games. Every other time I'd been to a hs game the cart had been too far from the seats and I'd been too lazy to walk to the cart and buy one myself.

I stood in line happily until I heard grumbling behind me.

"He always has to bench me, but always puts McCall on the field. If that isn't bad enough, now we have to pay for these stupid, crappy hot dogs and snacks even though we are the players. Jesus, I wish someone would just buy me a hot dog!" the guy said.

I turned around to look at him. He was cute with brown hair cropped close to his head, brown eyes, and a lacrosse uniform on. He was number 24.

"What are you looking at?"

"Your face, and you can't seem to stop complaining about your problems. No one cares about your problems, especially if we don't know you. So why don't you try to stick them..."

"Ok, ok I get it!" he said. Then he used his profanity to call me a 'female dog'.

"Very creative," I said and turned back around. Finally it was my turn to order, I got three hot dogs, two with just ketchup and one with ketchup and mustard as well as 5 cans of soda. I knew how much Hunter could drink. I turned to walk back to my seat to meet Hunter. I looked at number 24, the back of his jersey says Stilinski, and handed him one if the hot dogs with only ketchup. Then I walked away.

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

Hunter's POV

I watched as Cameron interacted with one of the cute lacrosse players from our home team. I was starving and almost jumped for joy when she began to head back to the bleachers after giving the guy something. She got to the bleachers and smiled and greeted both Henry and Justin. She sat down and handed me my hot dog, with ketchup and mustard just the way I like it.

"So, Henry," Cameron started to say. "Who's your new guy friend?" .

"Oh!" He said snapping out of his daze. "This is my boyfriend, Justin." he said stretching out the boyfriend part.

"Nice to meet you Justin, I'm Hunter, Henry's friend." she said giving him her hand to shake. He shook it back. I could tell that he had a strong grip. He was very buff and very handsome. Movie star handsome actually.

He had bright blue eyes, just like mines and blondish-white hair. He wore a tight shirt that shirt that showed his six pack and muscles, and he was wearing blue jeans. I snapped out of my daze and noticed that the fields bright lights went on and the players started running out to the field.

"What other team is playing?" Asked Cameron.

"I don't know, I think it's another school playing from Beacon Hills. Better question for you,Who was that hottie I saw you talking to? " I answered. Cameron nodded to my answer and blushed furiously when I asked her the question. I could see her trying to gather herself.

"Oh just some a-hole who needed to be set straight." she said, trying to play it cool.

I arched my eyebrow, not convinced, and nudged her. "Was that a phone number exchange I saw there?"

"No! Hell no!" She answered quickly, too quickly. "It was just me giving him a hot dog."

"Suuure..even if it was, it wouldn't of been a bad thing." I said and we both began to focus on the field as the game was about to start.

The game finally started right after the players got into position and the whistle blew.

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

So far BHHS was winning. 27 to 15. Player 11 was really good. He's the one who made most of the goals. I've tried reading the last name on his jersey, but was always moving too fast.

"Guys, I'll be back. I have to go to the bathroom," I said, getting up. It had been a while, and I just drank, like, three cans of soda. They nodded and continued talking while watching the game. I stepped down from the bleachers, trying not to step on the mustard and stray hot dogs that covered the steps and the ground. I headed towards the abandoned school building

God, this place was creepy when it's empty. Every step I took bounced off the walls and echoed down the dark hallway. I tried the lights, but they only flickered, then went dark. I groaned, then continued down the hall. I finally found the girl's bathroom, but before I could open the door, it swung open. I jumped back, avoiding a massive nosebleed.

A girl walked out, a sour expression on her face. She shoved me out of the way with her shoulder -covered in tattoos- then muttered something like "Move, moron". I watched her walk away after her shooting me a dirty look. Freak.

I stepped into the bathroom and just my luck, the bathroom lights weren't working either. This whole situation- the game, the friends, the bathroom,- reminded me of the time when I was younger and Cameron dared me to go into the bathroom at a baseball game and say Bloody Mary three times in the darkness. By myself. Not that I was creeped out or anything. Henry was there and dared me to stay in there 2 minutes after I said it. Like hell I did.

I looked into the surprisingly clear mirror and watched at the shadows passed over my face and the wall behind me. Shadows always reminded me of the night. I used to live on a semi-busy street, and the passing cars would make the shadows dance across my room. When I was little, I used to dance with them.

I bared my teeth, like a monster, then laughed at myself. I looked into the mirror again, and that was when I saw a tall, dark, manly figure emerge from the stall behind me.

-----------

Cameron's POV

I was wondering why Hunter was taking so long. She was in the bathroom for about 15 minutes. Hey, I mean I know the average girl back at our old school took about twenty minutes, but that was usually when they went with a bff or something. Hunter never took this long.

"Hey I'm gonna go check on Hunter, k?" I looked over at Justin and Henry only to look away really quickly. Gross, I'm not gonna even try to explain what I saw. I stepped over them and jumped off the bleachers to the ground, thankfully away from the dry ketchup and mustard. Then I walked toward the dark, empty school. The lights were turned off. I tried turning them on. Nothing. I tried looking around for the girls bathroom, but the school was just too big. All I found was the boys locker room. I ran my fingers on the dirty, dusty lockers.

"Hunter!" I yelled out. "Where ar-" I heard screaming. I jumped backward, frightened, and caught myself before falling on my butt. I knew that scream. It was the same scream that emerged during the baseball game many years back. Hunter. I followed the screaming echoes down the halls, running as fast as I could to the girls bathroom where Hunter was. When I got there, I tried opening the door, but the door wouldn't budge. I banged on the door and tried pushing, but it still wouldn't open.

"Hunter! Let me in!" The door finally opened a minute later. I looked up to the window and saw a shadowy figure climbing out. The person turned to me, and I felt a scream of my own, bubble inside me. All I knew was it had red eyes. It swung its leg out and I stumbled back. I looked back again and it was gone. A tensing presence filled the room once it was gone. Something ticked inside me; like a bomb that was ready to explode. It was like a slowly erupting volcano, ready to explode in fear, anger, and something else that was mixed up and unidentified. I looked to the ground and saw Hunter lying there. She was holding pressure to her left arm. There was blood on her hands. I ran to her.

"You're gonna be alright." I told her, surprised to hear my own calm voice. "You're gonna be fine. Let's take you back to your house." I helped her up by putting her good arm over my shoulder. She was lighter than she looked so that was no problem, I lead her out of the bathroom and to her car, leaving Henry, Justin, and the lacrosse game.

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

Hunter leaned on me as we walked up the stairs to her room. Once we got to the top, she sort of dragged herself to her room and flopped onto her bed. I followed her, but instead went to her bathroom to get the first aid kit that was hanging on the wall.

" Cameron, you can go home. I got it." Hunter called, her voice muffled by the sheets and the mattress.

"No!" I said walking out of the bathroom and placing the kit on the bed. "I'm gonna wrap up your wound and since your parents are on their anniversary vacation, I'm gonna stay the night."

"Thanks Cameron," she said, groaning. It was almost as if she didn't want me to stay. Go figure; she was tough and didn't like to look weak. She was really just a big teddy bear once you got to know her.

"Hunter, do you remember what happened?" She turned over, propped herself up on her good arm, and looked up at me with a confused expression on her face. "I mean how I found you lying on the bathroom floor, blood pooling from a gash on your arm.

"No I don't. It's kind of weird. How come I don't remember?" She said in a worried voice.

"I don't know. Just let me see your arm." I said, taking her arm and pushing up the sleeve. She sat up on the bed and groaned a little.

"Just go to sleep. You look exhausted. I'll wrap it up."

"Ok, thanks Cameron, can you text Henry and tell him to give my leather jacket to Justin so that he can give it to me on Monday. I left it on my seat at the game." She said laying back down on her bed and closing her eyes. I looked at the wound, blood still running out. I examined the wound and realized that the wound was a bite....from a very violent member of the dog family. But I coulda sworn I saw a man walk out the window.

-----------

Hunter's POV

"Hunter wake up! We're gonna be late for our first day of school!" I heard Cameron's voice floating above me. I blinked my eyes as I woke up. In pain. A lot of pain.

"Honestly Cam? Just leave me alone." I groaned and turned onto my stomach.

"Yeah honestly. You don't need to get all PMSy on me. The one time I wake up early to wake you up for first day of school since we are transfer students and you.....you know what? Forget it." She said and I heard her walk away from my bed.

"Sorry." I mumbled, sitting up in bed. "It's just,...it kinda hurts. Where'd you sleep last night?" I said as I rubbed the spot on my arm that was wrapped in a bandage tenderly. Cameron glanced at me through the mirror hanging on my door, then sighed. She came over to the bed and plopped down next to me and took my arm.

"On the sofa, but that isn't important." she replied to my question.

"What happened last night?" I asked still not remembering anything since leaving the lacrosse game. Cameron began to unwrap my arm. " I saw something last night, then it-"

"Bit you?" Cameron said finishing my sentence, pulling the bandage completely off my arm. I almost gagged from the smell and the look of the bite.

It looked like a dog bite. It was covered in cracked, dried blood and had dried yellow puss coming out. I felt as if I could smell the nastiness coming off it in waves. I pulled my arm away from her, but that's when I noticed my upper arm. The muscles flexed when I moved. The thing was... I don't remember any muscle being there. I looked at the wound again and realized that it was slowly healing. Well, slowly, but faster than usual. It looked way better than yesterday. Cameron didn't seem to notice. She was back bathroom, rummaging through the cabinets.She came back with ointment and a wrap-around bandage.

-----------

Cameron and I were transfer students from Los Angeles. We moved to Beacon Hills in December after Cameron's parents died in a car crash. She had been taking it well since they were always abusive towards her. My parents gladly took her in, and we moved here with her when she decided to go live with her aunt. We arrived at the school on time for once, Cameron driving her car because she said I couldn't drive mine with an injury. I wore burgundy leather pants, white T-Shirt, and white and black Adidas sneakers. Cameron opened the car door and stepped out, not a hint of nervousness or reluctance in her action. I watched through the car window as she started walking towards the school.

Beautiful. She left and forgot about me.

I felt sick. I knew I looked fine, I knew this was a normal high school, but something felt off. Calm down Hunter, you've been to public school before. My arms and legs burned like I just ran a thousand miles. My vision was continuously blurry and my jaw hurt. It was like I was chewing metal and cracking every single one of my teeth.

I opened the car door and stepped out. "Nervous jitters," I mumbled to myself, "just nervous." My stomach suddenly felt queasy and I threw up all over my shirt."Really!" I shouted so loud, that almost half the school looked at me. Luckily it wasn't in Cameron's car or she would've killed me.

"DAMN IT!!" I wailed. I cursed under my breath hoping no one heard me. I slammed the car door shut with so much force that it flew open again. I didn't have a jacket to cover it. I felt cold since I was wearing a short sleeve shirt. I felt crying and then I heard a feminine voice.

"Hey, are you alright?" I looked up at her. She had brown curly hair and brown eyes.

"Yeah, I'm just having a hard time, I threw up all over my shirt, it's my first day of school and I ju-" she cut me off.

"It's ok." She put her hand on my right shoulder. "Come, I don't have an extra shirt, but I know where to get one."

"Oh no. You don't have to. I'll just ask my friend."

"It's fine. Besides I'm not gonna leave someone who is new alone on their first day and I have math first period so I don't mind being a little late."

I chuckled. She took my hand and we walked into the school. "What's your name." She asked.

"Hunter Queen. What's yours."

"Hunter Queen. Cool name. I like it. My names Allison. Allison Argent. Don't worry I'm new to this school too, but I came from San Francisco."

"Cool. So where are you taking me?" I asked curiously as we walked down the crowded halls.

"The boys locker room."

"Boys locker room? Isn't that room for.....boys?"

"It is, but just wait." We arrived to the locker room. Allison knocked on the door to make sure no boys were in the room. No answer.

"Ok good. Come on in." She said holding the door for me. I walked in, glancing around self consciously. No one seemed to notice or care. I guess girls came into this room all the time. That thought helped me feel less like a freak who knew nothing about this place. There was lockers with the locker numbers, some with mean writing that said stuff like 'U Suck!' Or 'Go die in a hole Greenberg!'. Some lockers even had drawings of stick figures and lacrosse sticks.

"It's smells in here," I said with a disgusted look on my face.

"It is a boys locker room. What do you expect it to smell like? Flowers?" She answered while going through somebody's locker. She took out a burgundy jersey that said 'Beacon Hills Lacrosse' on the front. The back of the jersey had a number. Number 11; I thought of the lacrosse game from last night. Number 11 was the very good player. The last name was McCall.

"I can't take that hoodie, Allison. I don't even know the boy. "

"Why not? I know him very well and he wouldn't mind and I know you wouldn't want to walk around with puke on your shirt on your first day of school." She looked up at me and grinned. She had dimples; deep and beautiful. She was beautiful. It's no wonder she wasn't having a hard time fitting in. I smiled and took the hoodie. I changed into it while she checked her phone for the time.

"Now let's go see where your first class is."

Still avoiding math class. I think I like this Allison Argent.

---------

"Oh that sucks. You have chemistry first period," Allison said, looking at my schedule. She dropped me off at the chemistry room. "But hey look, you have History class with Scott and Lydia. You'll like them." She handed me the schedule. The school bell rang announcing that i was officially late for first period..

"I'll see you later Hunter." She waved to me. I waved back and entered the chemistry room. I sat in the front row of the class. More people came in, but no one sat next to me even though there were still empty seats. I was guessing these were all the students. The teacher closed the door and wrote his name on the board: Adrian R. Harris.

" I see we have a new student in class. Will the new student please stand up and introduce herself?" This man was not very inviting or enthusiastic, not like the teachers at my old school. I stood up anyway. Butterflies flew around in my stomach.

"Uh, Hello. My name is Hunter Queen. I'm a transfer student from Los Angeles and moved to Beacon Hills during the summer. I officially began to live here last week." I sat back down, not making eye contact with anyone.

"Will everyone please open their textbooks to -" he was cut off due to someone coming to class late.

"Mr. McCall please take a seat and try not to be late next time please."

"Sorry." The boy said. He had a crooked jaw. He looked around smiling, but once his eyes fell on me, his face.

Wait, did the teacher call him mister... McCall?

"Um, is anyone sitting there?" He asked. I looked around the room. There were empty seats and he decides to sit next to me?

"Um no. No one's sitting here." He smiled at me and sat next to me, even if his face held confusion.

"Thanks," he said. He ripped a piece of paper, wrote something on it and handed it to me.

I'm Scott McCall. I didn't get your name. Sorry.

McCall. So this really was fantastic mister 11. I wrote back:

Im Hunter Queen. I realized I'm wearing your Jersey :(. Sorry. An accident happened and your friend Allison gave me your jersey. Do you want it back?

I gave him back the note. He ripped out another piece of paper and wrote on it.

No it's ok. Just keep it. I'll just ask coach for another one. It's nice to meet you though. What happened to your arm?

I looked down at my arm. I totally forgot about it. Surprised Allison didn't ask about it. I gave him back the note saying:

Oh I was bitten by a dog or something in the bathroom at the lacrosse game last night. It came in through the window or something. Thanks for the jersey.

I gave him back the note. He stared at it for a while.

"Mr. McCall, would you like to share anything with the class?"

"Uh no, sorry Mr. Harrison," he muttered, hiding the note under the text book. He wasn't smiling anymore. Harrison turned back around and continued writing notes on the board.

Scott gave me back the note:

Can we talk after school?

I ripped up the note and put it in my pocket. I leaned closer to him. "About what?" I asked.

"Your bite."

"You wanna talk about my bite. It's fine."

"No, it's just- it's not a dog bite, it's a wolf bite and I got the same one four months ago."

[superstrangerthings]

Poetry and Panties

Word count: 1,824

Warning: smut, blowjob, fingering, fluff!

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Summary: It’s your one year anniversary with Cas and the night starts off really lovely and cute but then things get heated in a competition to come before the pizza arrives.

Tags:   @badwolfy08 @jensen-gal

A/N: Thank you everyone for 100 followers! This is the celebration fanfic, and if you don’t like the smut, the fluff is at the start which is pretty cute so I hope you enjoy!

Tonight you had something special planned for you and your boyfriend Cas. It was your 1 year anniversary, but you two had been best friends for long before that because you had been hunting with the Winchesters since before Cas arrived. Cas had been an amazing best friend and boyfriend for the past year but you hadn’t got a lot of date nights due to the release of Amara and Cas being possessed by Lucifer for a while, and you didn’t need date nights as per say but you always enjoyed spending a night alone with Cas.

Each of you had surprises for each other, but yours involved setting up for the main part of the night so Cas had gone out with the Winchesters for a drive upon your request. Sure enough they arrived back just as you were finishing, as you had anticipated because Cas probably didn’t understand the pointless drive and was sending Sam and Dean crazy. You moved out into the room just below the door as it opened and closed again heavily.

“I just don’t understand why did we drive to the town and back for no reason.” Cas’ deep voice grumbled from upstairs.

Dean ignored him, leaning over the banister and calling down to you, “Have fun Y/N, we’ll be back in the morning.” And before Cas could ask any more questions, the brothers were gone.

He walked down the stairs, stopping on the last step as he made eye contact with you. He tilted his head slightly and squinted his eyes.

You laughed, stepping forward to hug him and kiss his cheek, “Welcome back, baby. I have the place set up for us.”

His stiff countenance dissolved and he smiled, “Happy one year anniversary Y/N.”

“You too baby.”

You took his hand and led him down the hall towards your room. Arriving at your door, you stopped and turned to Cas, looking him up and down before saying, “You need to take off your trench coat, suit jacket and shoes.”

He looked confused again, but complied anyway. When he was done and had folded his clothes neatly, you took them off of him and set them beside the door. He asked, “Y/N, I don’t understand, why do I have to be without my shoes and coats?”

“Well,” You explained, “you always wanted to know what human things I enjoy, just like Dean how loves his car, and I have showed you some things. But tonight I made my room into a sort of ‘happy place’ that I want you to share in because you belong in my happy place too.” Suddenly you became worried that it was a stupid idea. “We don’t have to do that. I just thought that it might be nice…” You dropped your head to look at the floor in embarrassment.

A light touch gripped your chin and brought your eyes up to meet Cas’ eyes – they were glowing with love and happiness. “Y/N, that sounds like the perfect night.” He kissed you slowly before breaking away and adding, “Especially with my surprise later on in the night.”

You took his hand again and pulled him into the room. You were happy to hear his slight intake of breath upon entering the room because you had spent so long doing it up. The floor was completely covered in cushions and pillows, and in the corner of the room you had built a fort. You had managed to create a tent of blankets big enough for the two of you to have plenty of room to sit. Leading Cas through the dimly lit room, you brought him to the fort and asked him to get in and sit down, “I’m just grabbing the last wee thing.”

He got in and you quickly grabbed the pile of poetry books lying on your bed, and then headed into the fort with Cas. He was looking around wondrously. The fort was also filled with cushions for you to sit on and there was a speaker sitting in the middle for music, but Cas’ eyes were entranced by the bright fairy lights covering the inside of the blankets.

“Y/N this is truly beautiful.” You sat down beside him and held his hand, watching the glow in his eyes and the slight smile that hung on his lips as he studied the lights. Each little light was shaped like a small angel that glowed a bright white colour.

“I thought it would be like having all your brothers and sisters together with you, because I know how much you love them.” You said.

“I do love them,” He said breathlessly, “And I love you Y/N.” He kissed your cheek lightly.

You let out a small giggle before continuing on with your plan, “So, you don’t know much about music so I put together a playlist for us to listen to while we are reading. These are all my poetry books,” You gestured to the pile, “And this is my happy place – listening to music; reading poetry; and being with you.” Cas grinned eagerly, excited to get the night under way.

 An hour later, you and Cas were both engrossed in your books, chatting about any poems that stuck out for you. The music was playing softly and the fort surrounded you in a nice warmth.

Cas perked up again, obviously having found another poem he likes. He recited it slowly,

“you look like you smell of

Honey and no pain

Let me have a taste of that.”

“Mm, I like that one too.” You agreed.

“It reminds me of you.” Cas said sweetly and kissed you softly.

You broke apart and smiled. “How about I go and get the food ordered?”

“Yes, that sounds good. And while you do that I can get my part of the night set up.”

You blushed under his loving stare and moved out to the door, the absence of warmth a sudden contrast upon your skin. As you left the room and headed down to the kitchen to find the take away menu, you wondered what Cas had planned for you. No matter how many ideas came into your head, none of them seemed like viable options.

You kept wondering as you ordered the pizza and when you finished, you turned to sneak back down the corridor to see what he was up to but there he was standing in the doorway. The way he was admiring your body sent shivers through your body and made a blush creep up on your face, so you broke the silence, “Pizza will be here in 15 minutes.”

Cas smirked and you could see the mischievously lustful look in his eyes, “That gives us plenty of time for the first part of my plan.” He sauntered over to you steadily.

“And what would that be?” You didn’t realise how little space there was until the table was on the back of your legs and Cas was pressed into your front, his erection evident.

“We fuck, and whoever comes first, has to pay for the pizza.” He grinned and you knew what he was doing; he was playing on the fact that he can make you so horny but you’re also super competitive.

When you didn’t reply straight away, he started grinding his erection into you. “Come on Y/N, I bet you that I can make you come first.”

You took a deep breath and contemplated your options before giving in and ripping Cas’ shirt off his shoulders. It didn’t take long before you and Cas stood there making out, in only your underwear. He led the kiss as his tongue explored your mouth. You had always loved the stubble on his cheeks scratching against yours, and the feel of his lips gliding with yours passionately, hungrily. But you had to make him come first.

You quickly grabbed his erection which forced him to break the kiss out of surprise and before he could react you were on your knees in front of him. Before he could object, knowing what you could do to him like that, you had pulled his boxers down and sucked his tip into your mouth. Only staying there for a moment, you then pushed your head down onto him. You began giving him all the works; going slow when you wanted to focus on a certain area, going fast when you were working him with your hand also, and giving his balls the odd tug for good measure.

Looking up at him with puppy dog eyes, you could see how flustered and frustrated he was getting. Suddenly he tugged you up to stand, panting heavily before you as you smiled innocently and wiped your lips.

“You think you can play that game?” He was obviously close to coming so you ground down on his still wet erection. He groaned and then, all of a sudden, two of his fingers were knuckle deep inside of you. “Two can play at that game Y/N.”

He thrust them in and out of deep inside you, forcing you to moan out and your legs go as weak as jelly. You couldn’t think straight as he started to suck on your nipples, teasing them with his tongue and teeth.

When you finally got your wits about you again, you pulled his fingers out of you and spun him round to make him sit on the table. He didn’t have time to get up before you were riding him deeply. His voice shook as the groan left his throat and you leant down  to kiss him, sure that at this rate you were going to win – cowgirl was one of Cas’ favourite positons.

Your over confidence started to fall though as you could feel that your orgasm was actually building up faster than Cas’. Unknowingly you conveyed that look to Cas and he took his opportunity by flipping you over and pounding deep inside you.

You  were so close now that you didn’t have the power in you to fight against, all you do was try and hold off you orgasm, which would be fine as long as Cas didn’t…

“Come for me Y/N, come for me princess.” That gravelly lust filled voice was the last thing that sent you soaring into the white bliss. Your entire body shaking and screams leaving your lips. Moments later Cas’ come was deep inside you as he groaned out a mantra of your name and profanities.

Just as you both recovered slightly and Cas cleaned up the come dripping down your thighs, the doorbell rang. “Shit, the pizza guy.” You turned to Cas who was smirking and leaning back in a chair as he made no move to get up. “Ugh.” Was all you could say as you tugged on Cas’ shirt quickly and attempted to run up the stairs even though your legs still weren’t working after that incredible sex.

[ecotone99]

The Hunch

"DON'T," the feeling said. "DO NOT go in there."

It was winter in Scotland, which meant it got dark, almost pitch black, by about 4.30pm. I always walked home the same way from my High School, always. To not go through the park meant an extra 15 minute walk in either direction. The park was huge but it cut straight through the middle of a few blocks, and there was an exit right near my house.

It was freezing cold. I had my scarf wrapped around my nose and face to keep warm. The entrance to the expansive park loomed before me, the gloom beyond the gates looking intimidating in the waning half-light. I adjusted my schoolbag and marched on... After all, I was well used to the spookiness of the park at this hour, and although there were no streetlights in the wood-like park, walking 5 - 10 minutes in the dark sure beat an extra 15 minute walk next to the well-lit main roads when the weather was this Baltic...

About five steps into the park a horrible, skin crawling feeling swept itself up my spine and across my arms, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It felt so oppressive and heavy, almost as though there was something weighing down my shoulders. "DON'T," the feeling said. "DO NOT go in there."

I hesitated, dithering, mad that I had allowed myself to get spooked by the ebony night enough to even consider doubling back and going the long way. I argued the pros and cons in my mind. All the while a nauseous feeling crept into and settled in the pit of my stomach.

"DON'T GO IN THERE."

"Damn it," I hissed, but then I retreated. I couldn't ignore my every instinct that was screaming at me, even though going the long way was illogical. I muttered profanities to myself all the drawn-out way home, thinking about how I was being such a chicken... But the strange thing was, I am not scared of the dark, nor the park... This spine-chilling apprehension was not the norm.

The next day the gossip was rife. Someone's parents worked for the police, and had spread the news about an unfortunate man who had hung himself in the park yesterday. His body was discovered by a man walking his dog just after tea-time. Apparently though, the man may have died at around 4. 15pm - 4.30pm...

... My blood ran cold. The place where the man had chosen to hang himself was along the path, just near the exit next to my house... If I had continued walking home from school that day, it's more than likely that it would have been me, not the man and the dog, who ended up discovering his body... I would have, if not for my premonition that something was off and very definitely wrong...

I've had a couple of other instances in my life where my intuition has been involved with something spooky, but I'll never forget that time as being my closest call yet...

submitted by /u/Cizzy-Shizzy [link] [comments] source https://www.reddit.com/r/shortscarystories/comments/dlfrpv/the_hunch/ via Blogger https://ift.tt/32xIxEd

[erinlasgalen]

This is who I am, just follow me!

“Wh..where are we going?” “What do you mean where? The airport of course!” “Ah, of course! Wait who decided that?” “What do you mean who? Yuri, of course!” “Yuri, um who again? Decided, I mean, that we are going to the airport?” “Plisetsky, remember that! Yuri Plisetsky did!” “And..who is Yuri Plisetsky?” “Me!” “Oh….”

Or, the one where after the disastrous party, Yuuri eats pirojki, gets kidnapped in the dead of night by a 15 year old secret fan, gets lost in snow, sings a popular (among skaters) song and acquires a new nickname. Not necessarily in that order.

It was snowing heavily in Moscow, coating everything and anything in a white blanket. It almost looked like the Earth itself was falling asleep under the lull of the crescent moon that was sparkling with a sneaky glint. It was 4 in the morning and the streets were as quiet as a mother who put her baby to sleep after hours of lulling...

Not even a single murmur could be heard.

“NOOUUUUU!”

Well, except for that unholy hoarse scream that could have woken up the whole neighborhood, that is, if they weren’t walking by the secluded highway that looked like the main setting for a horror movie scene with all the snow around.

What would have looked like an angry grandfather dragging his drunken grandson home for punishment for fooling around with young maidens, was actually a figure skating coach/trainee pair that had gotten a bit lost (not without the immense help from said trainee ) after the party they had disappeared from hours ago.

“I don’t waaaaant t’do another interview”, slurred the younger one, trying to get away from his mentor as fiercely as a drunken kitten, or a piggy, some might say.

Now this boy – well, MAN, was Katsuki Yuuri, Japan’s top figure skater, who always qualified for the finals of every championship there was and always lost spectacularly to everyone. Getting the last place was like his special karma or something. As if he was cursed to always qualify and fail for the whole world to see and laugh.

Nerves, they sure can get to you…scary! Get a grip, Katsuki-san!

Currently, he was cold, wet (partly, his feet were soaked through due to lousy old boots that needed to be changed ASAP!), hungry, and still quite drunk.

“Like hell you don’t!” growled the older man, tightening his vice grip on the boy and dramatically dragging him along the vast nothingness that was Russian Snowfall in the dead of night, or morning.

Whatever.

Now this charming eyebrow (yes he has extremely weird eyebrows that actually grow like that! Talk about hawk eyes…maybe all Italians have unique facial features?) man, was muttering profanities under his breath in a mix of broken English, flawless sexy Italian and extremely weird Japanese ( as if he learned it from watching anime ... who the hell talks like that?)

“Not after what you pulled off today at the party! You were supposed to be serious and calm and collected, someone who can deal with anything!” he ranted, pace intensifying along with the force of his grip. Yuuri whimpered. And to think it was him who convinced the heartbroken skater to come to that party…

This man, well, in Yuuri's eyes a demon currently, was his coach de la italiano, Celestino Cialdini, or “Ciaociao” for short and fluffy. Mind you, the nickname absolutely did NOT come from Phichit’s family dog, King, who coincidentally happened to be a chowchow. Not at all.  He was strict, always to the point and very hard to deal with at times. Also his eyebrows were distracting. And his eyes. The whole image always screamed ‘Lock-on, I am a predator, I’ll eat you alive’. Well, unless you fed him spaghetti or something.

“-..ked, well nearly naked! What was going through that idiot brain of yours at that time? Eh? Eeeeh? Not to mention the pole dancing! Why was there a pole anyways? Who brings a pole to a formal afterparty!!!"

Ah, it seems we got sidetracked a little, let’s get back to our merry duo now, shall we?

“What was that?!” roared the man, ponytail swishing back and forth with the speed they were gaining. It seemed that Yuuri had mumbled a small reply to that rhetorical question, trying to keep his balance and free himself at the same time while stumbling around in knee deep snow.  Luck was on their side or they both would have faceplanted long ago had it been deadly ice.

They would have made charming snow angels! Or devils…

“I said, t’was Chris…”

“Ah, yes”, a snort. “The sparkly eyelashes from Switzerland. Are they all like that? Their men are more feminine than their women!”

Yuuri's eyes unfocused, remembering a certain Russian skater and their dance. He opened his mouth to say something, probably resembling an "Oh, Victor~" but was cut off with a harsh tug to the middle of the street.

“And you are still not getting off the interview! Come on we need to get a ride! WE are going back to the hotel, YOU are getting some sleep and in the morning YOU and your FABULOUS FLAMENCO self will be giving an interview. And don’t you DARE dodge questions!”

Yuuri gave his best (he practiced on his own sister!) puppy eyes. But of course his coach was immune.

Italians, I say…

Ciaociao narrowed his eagle eyes and grunted, “And no, I will NOT be answering anything in your stead.”

“Bu..but it’s 4! Like, morning 4! Super late night em..early 4!!!”, the whining intensified. “We’re never going t’ find a taxi or ANY car anyways! Can we just…um, you know, just a, uh…”

Well, that really was a problem. Quite a big one, it seemed, I mean, even the angry coach went silent and loosened his grip somewhat, eyes downcast, trying to think of a solution. With both their phones long dead (Celestino’s really WAS dead, as it took a nice long swim during the party in the resident wine pitcher, screen flickering pathetically a few times before dying in the blood of grapes…Yuuri had gone all "Make us free, na splash, kasametta.." at that time, hands together in a silent prayer to the now dead device) it was pretty much impossible to contact anyone or anything.

Why didn’t they keep pagers around anymore?

Yuuri tried to use this momentum to get away. With mysterious ninja-like skills out of nowhere (most probably from all the champagne), he disengaged all his captive limbs and turned to make a beeline to hell knows where, when a beep resonated through the emptiness and an astonishingly white light came right on his frozen face, momentarily blinding him. A screech was heard and a car appeared milliseconds after the light, making an eyebrow raising U-turn and stopping right beside them in a well done drift.

Chris would have approved of it with a low whistle.

The snow whirlwind the driver brought with himself settled down to reveal an old, blue Zaporojets.

A window rolled down with a little screech along with the layer of snow gathered on it and an enormous furry scarf poked itself outside to greet them.

A few silent minutes they were all blinking at each other, during which it became evident that the ’scarf’ was  actually a human head, wrapped exquisitely in  a white, red and blue patterned  scarf (patriot much?). A small patch of what looked like straw at first was actually hair, the color a magnificent shade of noodles from Yuuri’s beloved katsudon! The only visible part that could be attributed to a human was a sharp, distinctly Russian nose, angry red from the cold and his eyes, a unique blend of grey and green. Those eyes were staring Yuuri down, seizing him.

Yuuri gulped audibly.

Celestino’s left eyebrow started lowering.

“If you need a taxi, I can take you wherever you need to go”, the unknown ‘straw’ spoke up, his sharp, rough English cutting the air like a knife.

Yuuri gulped and took a step back, suddenly becoming keenly aware that they were in the middle of nowhere, without their phones, in the dead of night with their passports in their pockets to top it…

And it was snowing almost as much as Phitchit had shed dandruff from his head that one time when he used the wrong shampoo in Detroit!

“We’ll take that offer, young man! Take us to Aerostar Hotel!”

The stranger grinned so wide that one could see it even with all the mummy scarf wrapping.

Yuuri whimpered once more, dreading the ride.

And dreadful it was, as Yuuri was chewed out by Celestino again and again. And the fact that their stranger Russian driver was right THERE, listening to it all was the worst.

“No, I will not do the interview! I don’t want to talk to the cameras or the people! I don’t want to talk to anyone!” huffed the Japanese, slumping in a defeated lump in the backseat, his drunkedness still evident in the slight ‘whoosh’  his hands were making in the air. “You wanted me to have fun, right? Riiiiight! Well I did, it was my way of loosening up! So WHAT?”

“So what!” the coach took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what! If someone leaks those photos and videos, you are done for! All those years skating and you STILL don’t have a sponsor! There were potential candidates there! Yet you went and ruined it all!”

“What photos? Someone was taking photos?”

A barely audible snort escaped the silent driver. The two in the back ignored him completely.

But the boy kept his eyes trained on the mirror, watching and silently making his own bizarre deductions.

He really should be keeping his eyes on the road though, not to mention BOTH hands on the wheel…

“Yuuri..”

“Ciaociao, pleeeease. I’ll figure something out about the whole sponsorship thing, just..”,he sighed, dejected. “Let me be tomorrow. I really can’t take any reporters, especially after Vicchan..”

His voice broke at the end.

“Let’s just go to the airport! I’ll fly back to Japan, you deal with press!” He sat up with a vigor and gently tapped straw driver’s back. “Please take us to Sheremetyevo, please!”

A hand yanked him back rather sharply.

“Don’t you dare, young man! Straight to the hotel and that’s it!”

“I am NOT doing that interview, Celestino!”

“Oh yes you are! You’re not a Japanese maiden in distress, nor am I chivalrous enough to grant your drunken ass any request! It’s fina-..” His words formed a surprised ‘aaaaaa’ as the engine grunted, screeched like a wet cat and finally came to a stop."..ah?"

“Wha…whats going on?” demanded the man. Yuuri was looking back and forth, discreetly smelling the air for any kind of weird pre-explosion smoke or something. The grin on his face was a little unnerving though.

The blondie shrugged, turning the key in the ignition a few times in a futile attempt to make it work again.

“Brat!”

“Um…right! We’re gona have to push…” the boy said, already getting out of the car. “It’ll go back up once we give it a little nudge".

The cold air hit Yuuri and he snapped out whatever evil horror trance he had gotten himself into. As he opened the door to get out as well, the blonde snapped it close with a leer. “We need some weight to be inside, you stay, piggy. Mr. Ciaobrows, you come push from the back.”

Yuuri snorted at the nickname, then burst into full blown laughter, not even bothering to smother his guffaws.

Celestino threw his a dirty glare and heavily shuffled out, leaving an almost crying Yuuri inside.

Merrily, they pushed the car in the snow, the Italian old man pushing from the back, the blonde youth pushing right beside the front seat, the door open. Step by step, the vehicle inched forward. Then just as Celestino was starting to feel the burn of muscles in his arms, the blonde hopped into the front seat, with the agility of a tiger, turned the key, bringing the dead engine back to life and the car sped away, leaving the poor coach to scream after them incredulously.

Funny thing was, Yuuri himself was screaming as well.

“Oh shut it!”, yelled the boy, snapping the door shut and turning around to face the Japanese. Yuuri snapped his mouth shut in sheer bewilderment from the death glare (he had to work on it, it looked too cute to be scary) the child was giving him. Yes child.

Somewhere in the process of all this he had unwrapped his scarf. Now it hung low on his neck, exposing his youthful features to the one and only passenger. He was incredibly cute. Women would swoon at his mare glance in the future. Honestly, Russians...

Dimly, Yuuri noted that this he was probably around 17 years old, if not younger. And this child had just kidnapped him.

Cute.

And weird. And scary. And I’m never going to see Kaa-san and Mari nee-chan again!

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Yuuri asked.

“Wh..where are we going?”

“What do you mean where? The airport of course!”

“Ah, of course! Wait who decided that?” He stared at the mirror, trying to be intimidating. Somewhere at the back of his mind he made a note that lighter colored eyes were automatically more intimidating. Right…

“What do you mean who? Yuri, of course!”

Yuuri put a hand to his heart, “I did NOT!”

The teen swung around to face him, one hand still on the wheel.

“Who the hell said anything about YOU, piggy? I said Yuri did, Yuri!”

“Ah…watch the road, please?”

He got an angry huff as a reply.

This kid was precious…like a cinnamon roll.

“So, Yuri who again? Decided, I mean, that we are going to the airport?”

“Plisetsky, remember that! Yuri Plisetsky did!”

“And..who is Yuri Plisetsky?”

“Me!”

“Oh….”

They spend a few more minutes in silence.

“Celestino is alone out there, in the cold, we really should go back. Yuri-cha~n, stop playing around.”

The car came to a halt, making Yuuri collide with the back of the front seat. While he was nursing his nose, the boy fully faced him, nearly hanging off the seat. His expression was a mix between anger, guilt and admiration.

This baffled the skater to silence.

“You wanted to go back to your Japan, right? If we go back now, you’ll have to do that interview! Right?!”

“Yuri-cha-..”

“Stop! Don’t call me Yuri-chan!”

“Yurio then?”

“Wha? NO, no no no!” the blonde reached towards his almost namesake, hands posed as if to strangle him.

“Yurio, he is-..”

“Evil, manipulating, heartless, eyebrow man! The perfect villain! Besides, I actually messaged the taxi center for a car. He will have a ride anyways. What do you say?!”

Yuuri considered it for a minute, finger nearly in his mouth from his thinking pose. Yuri the Smaller raised a perfect eyebrow at the all too familiar gesture a certain playboy had.

“Okay!”

“Okay?”

“Uuun, Okay!!!”

When the old radio croaked to life, Yuuri was in the front, and the boys were munching on some pirojki and having a nice, pleasant chat about this and that (“how old are you Yurio?” “Don’t call me..- uh whatever! I’m fifteen!” “Fif….teen. Ah. I see. WHO THE HELL LET YOU DRIVE? DO YOU EVEN HAVE A LICENSE?” “IF YOU YELL, PIGGY, I YELL TOO! And no, of course I don’t!  But my grandpa lets me drive for practice! I’m goo~d, right? Right?”).

The old player was ignored mostly, until a certain song popped up.

Yuuri started humming almost on autopilot.

“Taaaam, tam pam, paaam, and the starry sky, spreading above~…”

Yuri glanced at him, eyes wide and staring.  The Japanese skated grinned. “I love this song. Actually all the skaters my age  and younger adore it.”

“Really”, Yuri inquired in a slightly disbelieving voice. “No one in my class knows it..like no one! But I really like it! My uncle hates it though…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. No one in my course knows it either, besides me and my roommate Phichit! But he’s a skater, so it’s kind of …Yeah.”, he trailed off, tapping his foot to the beat. “None of the older skaters like it though. Chris always ‘stage vomits’ when he hears it and Victor…ah..”

Yuri smiles mischievously and nods. Yuuri taps his foot, Smallish Yuri taps his fingers on the wheel. On an signal none of them even agreed on, they both started.

“I can rule the world, JJ, just follow me, I will break the walls, now look at me”, they sing/scream simultaneously, each pointing to themselves like over washed drama queens. “..also be the blind side of the enemy, this is who I am, just remember me..”

Yuuri sprawls himself on the blonde’s lap like a cat not even thinking that this child was actually driving. Yuri glances at him, face flushed from the adrenaline rush and sheer happiness of being able to sing his favorite song with someone who actually knew the lyrics.

“I’M THE KING JJ, NO ONE DEFEATS ME, THIS IS WHO I AM BABY, just follow me..-”

Yuuri raises his hands up like a conductor, while Yuri fake-longingly stares out of the window, eyes downcast.

“..just follow me off the ground”, they sing softly, then burst in a  fit of giggles.

In case you are wondering, no, they didn’t crash on the way, yes, they reached the airport, yes, a certain phone was put to charge and bombarded with missed call messages from a certain coach who seemed to be back in the hotel already, no, Yuuri didn’t return to him, yes, indeed he actually left for Japan, of course not before giving his almost namesake a hug and a promise to sing together again in the dead on night.

Wonderful memories, right?

In case you were also wondering, yes, Yuuri did forget everything after the 9 hour beauty sleep he got on the plane.

Shame…

Well, don’t worry, in a few month those two will see each other once more, when Yuri follows his wayward uncle on his quest of self-discovery ( really, for a man who should be settling down with a  family, self-discovery at his age? Pathetic!), love and inspiration to Japan.

More specifically, for a certain piggy who could hit all the highest notes like a pro in his most favourite song of his most hated singer/skater.

Honestly, JJ should go to hell.

But, maybe record a few songs before that…

Omake:

The car was safely parked in the garage and Yuri Plisetski was munching on the remaining potato bun. "Yuuri is interesting.", he mused out to the wide sky. "It's a shame he butchered the performance. Though, the choreography sucked so much.. ugh. But, I'm glad i got to see him!". He chuckled and took another big bite. Yuuri was his idol, that one and only skater he admired. And it was all because he saw that performance, back when Yuuri was 12. His very first one, and, well the only one he won. Since then Little Yuri followed his namesake's every move. He even has a photo collection in his phone.

With a password, so no one snoops. A certain silverette no one, that is.

"Well Victor sucks. Still don't get how that idiot didn't even recognize .. uh, idiot, stupid Victor!", he ranted, stuffing the rest of the pirojok in his mouth in one go.  Yeah his uncle ( in reality he adored him probably as much as Yuuri) was an airhead, the biggest idiot the world could have.

Wiping his slightly greasy hands on his jeans like any teenage brat would, he huffed, rolled his shoulders and went on to undertake new mission - sneaking home unnoticed.

"YURI PLISETSKIY! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!"

"Uhh.."