#I dunno if I’m funny or just sleep deprived
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
He’s like one of those rabid creatures fluttershy would adopt
No I don’t actually know what the fuck that means but it’s on my mind since hashira training arc manga
#luciana.txt 🎀🗡️#demon slayer#sanemi#idk might delete later#I dunno if I’m funny or just sleep deprived#both naybe
22 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hii! Can you do Vanitas x sleepy reader? They’re kinda just sleep deprived all the time, hehe. Sorry if I’m bothering you, I hope you can do this request! <3
✧Me who started this at 2:35 am:
✧One shot
✧Cw: Gn!Reader, Fluff-ish, Reader is a vampire and Vanitas's assistant, reader struggles with insomnia, maybe ooc Vanitas, complicated relationship (still romantic-ish)
✧ probably not proof read
✧theres always crumbs for vnc so here y'all go
It was a slight chilly night as Vanitas sat on the roof of the Hotel Chouchou. The breeze of the night came through slowly, the wind flowing through his hair lightly. It was funny, how the city of Paris still looked almost alive at night. The soft glow of lights speckled the city.
Vanitas wore a dully melancholic expression as he stated at the city. It was eerily quiet as he numbly stared out.
The sound of soft foot steps approaching notified him someone was near, though he stayed perfectly still. "... It's late y'know?" He said, his face shifting to a light smirk as he looked behind him. There you stood, the eye bags under your eyes evident as you stared down at him, before turning to the city. "You're up too, non?"
He huffed as he looked away, placing his hand to his face. "This is why you're so exhausted all the time y'know?" He scolded you lightly. "It's fine." You nodded.
There was silence as you stood behind him quietly. Vanitas glanced behind him, noticing how you wore the same, dull expression he'd worn not so long ago. What could you be thinking about? Sometimes it was hard to remember that you were also a broken person such as himself. Honestly, he'd rather not think about it.
You let out a light yawn as you finally sat down beside him. Vanitas chuckled at your drowsiness as he looked back out to the city again. You sat there for a long while, just the two of you and the sounds of the dead Paris Streets.
Vanitas could feel you shiver beside him lightly as he sighed. "Why are you out here anyways? You're obviously exhausted." He said annoyed. "I'm always like this." You shook your head. He scoffed out a chuckle as he nodded. "Well duh, stating the obvious."
The eeiry silence once again enraptured the two of you. Vanitas mentally scolded himself as his thoughts couldn't be cleared of you. Your presence beside him somehow managed to break through the barriers he'd carefully constructed. It was exhausting, the way his mind couldn't ever stop thinking about you.
"I don't get it," he muttered, a hint of frustration tainting his words. "Why do you push yourself so hard, running on empty all the time?" His gaze shifted to you, attempting to decipher your expression.
You shrugged with an indifferent expression. "Dunno.." at this Vanitas stared at you more. Your gaze met his, and for a moment, something softened in his eyes. Uncomfortable with the vulnerability, he turned his attention back to the city lights.
"I guess I've been like this for awhile." You mumbled out. Vanitas glanced up at you again. "Sleep just doesn't really come that easily, even if it's all I crave. You know, you're not the only one with demons," you said softly, your gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "We all carry our burdens, Vanitas."
He scoffed, his wall being built within him once more. "I don't need your pity." "It's not pity," your tone was gentle. "It's understanding."
For a moment, Vanitas looked away, not wanting to listen. Then, with a sigh that carried the weight of unspoken emotions, he spoke. "Understanding won't change anything."
"Maybe. But I can hope it helps ease it.. Just being there. Even in the silence of the night." You finished.
Your words hung in the air as another silence engulfed the both of you. Vanitas found himself momentarily at a loss for words.
As Vanitas tried to regain his composure, he stole another glance at you. There was a softness in your worn out eyes that echoed the vulnerability he often tried to bury. It was a vulnerability he couldn't quite comprehend.
Vanitas sighed as he looked away again. "You talk too much." He huffed out. You merely shrugged, a small but genuine smile playing on your lips. "It's a talent, I suppose."
He let out a scoff, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps a hint of gratitude. After a few moments, another yawn escaped your lips. You glanced up at him slightly. "It's weird.. you're one of the most unbearable, scary people I've ever met." "Okay, ouch." He commented, letting you continue.
Your eyes closed for a second before opening again in defiance, "But I feel the most relaxed when I'm with you." You finished.
The contradiction between tonight's conversations and the usual banter between you two left him momentarily speechless. His attempt to mask his surprise with a scoff was futile as he grew embarrassed.
"You're delusional if you think I'm someone you should find relaxing," he retorted. Yet, the subtle tint of pink on his cheeks portrayed the effect of your words. "Probably." You mumbled out, slowly blinking.
Your yawns persisted, and a drowsy smile lingered on your lips as you observed Vanitas's futile attempts to deflect your words. "You're just spouting nonsense because you're half-asleep." He shifted away from you. "Sure, that's what I'm doing."
The silence made him glance up again, noticing you staring into the city lights, closing and reopening your eyes every few seconds. He couldn't help but stare at you for a bit, before jerking his head back to the city himself.
"You should.. Let yourself sleep." He mumbled out. You looked over with slightly surprised eyes, before your face slowly softened. "..thanks, Vanitas."
"yeah, yeah whatever.." he embarrassedly mumbled, looking away from you. You chuckled, continuing to stare at the beautiful pairs sky together.
#vanitas no carte x reader#vanitas x reader#the case study of vanitas#the case study of vanitas x reader#vnc x reader#vnc Vanitas x reader#glitchs✧works
375 notes
·
View notes
Text
TL;Dr : Reverse 1999 is great
So since yesterday I’ve been playing Reverse 1999 because I was interested in the story. Honestly I’d say this game is pretty good overall! The story is cool, the gameplay is fun and interesting, and the characters are really fun, not to mention the character roster has a much more unique and diverse cast than Genshin (sorry Genshin). So for this post, here are some of my highlighted characters:
Sonetto is pretty sweet, plus she has cool attack animations. She’s also a free five star you get in the main story, which is neat :3
Normally i dislike Tsundere characters because they can be annoying, but Matilda is an exception. She also has pretty attacks, plus she’s kinda funny so I like her.
Leilani is currently my favorite, i just love how cute and energetic she is! I’m really glad shes for free, even though she’s a 3 star :,)
Currently one of the MVP’s of my account. Does decent damage plus provides solid healing, an overall comfy unit for me. It helps that she reminds me of Diluc. I dunno why but characters who represent justice/judgement always appeal to me in video games. Maybe it’s because of their strong presence?
Mondlicht is another favorite of mine (even though i have trouble pronouncing her name ;-;). I really like how she’s a balance of cute and stoic, it reminds me of Razor (not 100% sure if they’d get along tbh). She also has an axe gun so she’s easily top tier lol.
Ok so from what I’ve seen on the internet, his name in the English language is spelled “Zima”? I think? Lemme know if I’m wrong. Anyways yeah, I like him a normal amount. He’s just a peaceful, possibly sleep deprived lil guy with an owl, you can’t compete with that! Plus he sounds like he struggles with speaking english, unsure if that was the intent but it’s a very cool detail.
Sweetheart makes me feel a certain way, plus she’s a really nice Dps. Her design reminds me of Betty Boop a little bit. Her voice is nice too, it really sells the kind of character that she is.
Pavia’s interesting to be sure. He reminds me of Childe with his murderous tendencies and unmatched charm. For real though, this guy is a borderline psychopath, the voice lines will tell you that much 0-0
La Source is a decently comfy healer, definitely worthy of the MVP status despite being a 3 star. Plus I love how sassy she is, she can be pretty funny. That being said, she’ll probably be benched as soon as I get my hands on a better healer.
#reverse 1999#reverse 1999 sonetto#reverse 1999 matilda#reverse 1999 leilani#reverse 1999 dikke#reverse 1999 mondlicht#reverse 1999 zima#Reverse 1999 sweetheart#reverse 1999 pavia#reverse 1999 la source#Good lord that was a lot to type out#Anyways yea this game is lit go play it#Wait actually don’t its a gacha game you’ll get addicted :(#Something I really like about the characters is how diverse the designs look#Especially the females#Genshin has really good designs too but kinda limits what girls can wear a lot of the time#It’s not too much of a problem most of the time but sometimes they’ll be so focused on making designs cute or sexy#The overall design can suffer for it :(#Anyways imma go to bed now its past 8
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Have I said this before? The way I see some people talk about their kids makes me feel like a lesbian reacting to straight women talking about their shitty relationships.
Like. “My kids are crazy, I can’t wait to get a break from my kids, I hate all these annoying kid shows my kids watch, having kids is such hard work honestly if I knew this I might not have had kids, etc etc etc” that kind of thing. I’m seeing all this and feeling slightly horrified like, you know it doesn’t HAVE to be like this right?
Very very young children are certainly a lot of work, I won’t sugarcoat that. Taking public transit with a baby is definitely no fun, I do NOT miss that, all three of my kids were very fussy babies and I definitely did not enjoy the constant sleep deprivation. But I dunno, I still never RESENTED any of the work, because I loved them all, the same way I don’t resent cleaning up after my senior cat with kidney disease. Does it suck? Sometimes. Do I wish she wasn’t my cat? Fuck no. And once my youngest hit probably around 4ish? They grew out of all of that and now it’s just the best every day. I love my kids. I love spending time with them. I love taking them to places and showing them things and doing things with them. I love talking to them and it is so fucking exciting seeing them learn and grow and remember the things I’ve told them. I miss them when they’re not here. Like any relationship, we certainly have our conflicts once in a while and sometimes I feel tired and grumpy and then I take a little time out. But overall, my kids are the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my life and I honestly have so much fun being a parent.
So when I see these “jokes” I feel like those memes where lesbians react in horror to the insane things that straight women say about their relationships. Like. Why do you guys have kids if you don’t even really seem to like them? You know that it doesn’t have to be like this, right? You know that the relationship can be better than this, right? I wonder if it’s because everyone is pressured to have kids so people who maybe weren’t 100% on board end up having kids anyways, or if it’s because people don’t know how to have fun spending time with their kids because their parents never spent time having fun with them, or what the hell it is, but it’s definitely weird to me. 100% cannot relate. Do not find it funny at all.
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
I had intended to post photos from the convention tonight, but honestly I am as too depressed.
To be clear, this was NOT the fault of the convention. It’s a lovely convention full of enthusiastic and friendly people. I’m sure the majority will remember it joyously, as they should.
Now I did go into the convention with several disadvantages. On top of the lack of sleep, the trip began with a flat tire! (What is it with me going to this convention and flat tires?!?!) My money situation was worse than I’d expected and I couldn’t get my blasted ankle brace and boots on without agony.
At the convention I had an extreme excess of pain and serious lack of funds, neither of which makes for a ton of fun when you are spending seven hours walking around in a room full of people selling very nice things they’ve frequently put their heart and souls into. I was walking about with my sleep deprived brain only able to focus on PAIN.
See, my nature is to wander around chatting with everyone I can. I then divide up what money I have and buy some little things from as many people as I can. The more love and enthusiasm they have, the less I worry about whether it’s my thing. Over the years I’ve bought a lot of really bad comics from people I want to encourage to keep creating.
This year I just didn’t have it in me. I didn’t have the energy. I especially didn’t have the money.
When I did I talked the pain was screeching away in the background. And when folks found out I was too broke to spend, they naturally would lose interest in chatting. Sometimes it wasn’t even about the money when they would turn away as I was mid sentence.
The problem is me. Boring, useless, broke me. I’m not interesting or funny or whatever it is people like. I can’t even plug into any fandom deeply enough to be embraced. I like geeky, nerdy stuff, but I don’t have a single passion.
In the past I have been better at this. Maybe it’s like when people starve for weeks they can’t launch into a four course meal. Their bodies can’t take it. I’ve finally gone too long on my, too little human connection. I’ve starved for people, and when thrown into a room of them I’m a wreck.
I dunno. A room full of people, and everyone either with or meeting up with someone. Families. Friends. It reminds me of my being alone.
I did try to call Mom at the con. I struggled to find a place away from all the noise, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t get her.
Somehow I just felt like such a damn freak. I wanted to feel a sense of belonging, amid folks that actually know the things I enjoy and many that actually make things. But even among geeks I’m a weirdo in so many ways. I won’t make a list. I’m too tired and sad. No point in dwelling on it. I belong nowhere. That’s just the nature of being me.
The trouble is a part of me lives in hope. I hope that this time someone will like me. This time I will make a friend. I will find some sense of connection, of belonging, a break from my isolation….
A bit much to ask of just seven hours wandering around a convention center full of strangers. I’m not special enough to pull that off. Weird, odd, but not appealing.
Again, just the nature of being me. All these decades it shouldn’t bother me. It bothers me
On a minor note about the con, my concern my Discworld shirt would inspire people to expect me to know about the subject proved utterly unfounded. I had several people ask me what the shirt was about, never having heard of Discworld or Terry Pratchett. If anyone knew they didn’t say anything. It’s a rather obscure fandom in these parts.
Anyway, this is too long a vent. The con is over for another year. I’m depressed and lonely and am feeling a sense of despair.
The central point is simply I am doomed to be an outsider. I feel a bit like someone that put their hand out as they were falling and failed to catch anything. Maybe I need to finally accept that there isn’t any point in trying anymore?
So back to another year of being alone in my hick town where not a damn person shares a single one of my interests, and 90% of my time is spent alone on the farm, in the woods or whatever.
Oh well. I’m not entirely alone. Maybe some of the animals sorta love me and I can “make friends” by sculpting them badly into being….
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ooooh, tagged by @hawkstincan!
15 questions 15 mutuals. Do I have 15 mutuals? No idea.
1-are you named after anyone?
I am named after a soap opera character my mother wanted to bang. In her defense she was a teen fresh out of Juvie who was playing straight to keep her mom happy so like. Decisions were made. Possibly decisions I’ve been mocking my entire life. That aside, it’s also boring as fuck and I can’t stand hearing it in relation to myself. It’s like nails on chalkboard. I’ve been poking around to find something to change it to for uhh probably like twenty years. Why is naming myself so daunting.
2-when was the last time you cried?
Oh, yesterday. I caught the tail end of the Namona movie, and absolutely teared up over Holy Shit They Kiss And Get A Happy Ending? And then had to explain things like Xena and Gabby, BTVS’s Willow and Tara and the kill your gays trope to baffled kids
3-do you have kids?
Lmao yep. Three monsters. That’s where the username comes from, a very sleep deprived ‘oh my god if I don’t find a space that isn’t overrun with my kids I might actually die’ moment
4- do you use sarcasm a lot?
Fluently, even.
5-what sports do/have you played?
I’ve done softball, soccer and track. I decided I have better things to do with my time in high school and don’t miss it. Team sports are not for me.
6-what’s the first thing you notice about people?
Ah, that’s a weird one heavily depending on the person? It’s body language. If that doesn’t twig anything in my brain, then typically I take note of eyes or voice.
7-what’s your eye color?
Brown. Except for when I’m being told it’s orange. (It is not. It is so very brown. This is still funny every time I hear it. Even funnier when I point out things like Sunlight.)
8-scary movies or happy endings?
Cannot do scary movies, I have enough nightmares organically,I don’t need to give that machine more fodder. The real world is already sad and scary and I’d rather have happy endings in my media.
9-any special talents?
I have no idea how to answer this one, ever. What counts as a special talent? I am so very good at forgetting about both my tea and the goddamn laundry.
10-where were you born?
In a hospital.
11-what are your hobbies?
Does collecting hobbies count as a hobby? I read, write, sew, and die in video games mostly, with a side of falling down the YouTube theories hole but I’ve dabbled in art, building, baking, gardening, calligraphy, knitting, embroidery…
12-do you have pets?
We’ve got a calico kitty that’s about the same age as my eldest, and still acts like That’s Just My Really Tall Kitten. It’s adorable.
13-how tall are you?
Supposedly 5’5. I find this hard to believe.
14- favorite subject in school?
Always liked history. Literature was fun when the teacher wasn’t a pretentious ass. Some of my education classes were fascinating, but that was more of the human nature side of things. Oh! and my psych classes were amazing. Do not ever take a psych class lmao you will inevitably poke at too many of your own bruises, and realize your folks are about three times as fucked up as you realized.
I like learning. I just don’t like being told what I should be learning.
15- dream job?
As a kid, I wanted to be like, a vet or something with animals. Then I went into teaching and realized it’s not worth it.
As for things I don’t think I knew to even want, I’ve kind of got it? I don’t have any interest in the traditional work force— the idea of going back into that makes me violent ngl, between dealing with parents and The System during my five seconds as a teacher or dealing with The Public as a retail employee…I’m… no.
I’m home, being a side-kick teacher to the kids while they attend virtual classes. They need me less now that they’re older, but it’s still nice to have one of them wander out at random hours to info dump at me between classes or ask for help with a project. I dunno, as a kid who’d go literal days between seeing the adult in my house (and therefor became the adult in the house at Entirely Too Young) because she was working three jobs, being home and an active participant in my kids’ lives is just. I can’t top that.
Feel free to jump in if you’d like to play!
1 note
·
View note
Text
Dec 9 2022 (6:56pm)
Made it through the day fine, though I was still sorta charged and obviously worn out. Funny enough, I performed well, and didn’t make many silly mistakes like I sometimes do. It was just simple and I was on it.
At some point, maybe it was last night, I really felt like I missed Izzy, and that was the source of my anxiety. I went there after work, and broke down. I hadn’t seen her in weeks. Seeing her made me feel nice. Thought of maybe things being able to put back together passed through my mind today periodically.
I’m very confused. Yeah, I’m a bit sleep deprived and had an anxious couple days, but it just feels like this little anxious period was punctuation of some sort. Like I’m figuring things out and now other things feel slightly different.
I watched a Youtube video a few days ago that basically stated that the degree of happiness you experience in life is strongly connection to the strength of your relationships. That people are the most important. This was an unsurprising metric to me at this point… lol
People have been the common denominator in all my good times so far. They are the most important. Unfortunately, I have thus far taken them perfectly for granted. I thought that people will just always be around, which is an understandable conclusion to have come to based on early life experiences; people always were around, friends, family, etc. Because of this, I effectively factored them out in a way. They became givens, and I was then solely interested in what I could do and achieve with them instead. I just had no idea how important it was to maintain relationships. I had no idea just how important they are to me, more importantly.
This whole time, yes I’ve been going through this and that with life path shit, but another problem was my relationships were all somewhat complicated. They weren’t places of refuge. Well not entirely, and it’s arguable that things are ever perfect for anyone. I think it was just the timing… I dunno.
I’m sure I’ll have more thoughts about this, but for now I wanted to move onto another topic I find interesting.
I’ve wanted to dissect my whole hyper-ambitiousness thing and get to the bottom of it and why it’s not working in my favour. I think “hyper-ambitiousness” is just a word for allowing anxiety to charge your work-drive. And by charge, I mean it gets inside and start influencing the very ideas and assumptions you approach being productive with.
This far, I imagined being productive as just hammering out shit like a mad genius. Productivity was zooming along fast. Sitting down everyday and just flying at light speed. There’s all these “speedy” words involved, explicitly and implicitly. It’s like I was not okay with something taking a long time… and again… taking into account who had original set those assumptions in motion… it’s not surprising they were ill-informed and under-cooked.
To perhaps unnecessarily elaborate, the word “productive” itself just feels like it’s in motion, exciting motion. To be a productive person sounds like you’d just be this machine, raking in gold somewhat. Maybe a little dramatic, but you get me.
The point I’m getting at is that there will be times when the project at hand will require more effort or less effort to complete. Some projects don’t even have tangible products. You can fill you todo list with easy as fuck tasks, do 20 in the course of a day and feel so incredibly productive. Then, you could fill it with 1 difficult task, that doesn’t have a tangible product, and in completion you feel far less accomplished then the day before when folded shirts, did dishes, etc.
A unit of productivity - a task - require different amount of energy to complete. This means that you could put in the same amount of energy of two days, and be different amount of productive, based on the defined units.
This unit is trouble because it doesn’t respect the effort put in. A better unit would somehow measure the amount of energy you expelled, and base your degree of productivity on that metric. In other words, you could be very productive, but only gotten 1 task done, perhaps even half of one task.
Relating this back to me. I wouldn’t feel satisfied with my productivity unless I had done quite a lot each day, and disregarded the varying amounts of energy required for each set of tasks. Slowly I increased the amount of tasks I pressured myself to do, because I thought I could get them all done.
To conclude, I’m in the process of formulating a basic standard, a rule of sorts, for what constitutes productivity. The goal of which would be to find an amount of “productivity” that each day would be easy to achieve (even if it meant not completing a task) that therefore would stresslessly compound. This standard wouldn’t be for sake of reducing the amount of work I do, but more for the sake of guaranteeing some degree of movement is occuring, even if at turtle speed. This stresslessness brings all the joy of working back because you’re not scared of starting. Productivity shouldn’t be suffering. It can be, but it should be most of the time.
0 notes
Note
If you don't mind: 6, 49, 52 with Arkham Edward iffin you please 💖
With Lights On
Arkham!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 2.1k ok yum??? this was a good pick bb and so much fun to do a silly trope like this and oh my god it was fun to do a kind of flustered eddie, i dunno you picked something i literally would have chosen myself so ty ily request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: leering, sharing a bed (?), handjob
Ed stood next to you in the tiny safe room, both of you staring towards the single twin bed cramped up against the wall.
“In my defence, I hadn’t really thought that I’d have someone tagging along with me.”
“I thought you planned for every eventuality.”
“Yes, but you were an eventuality that I couldn’t have conceived of.”
He had a really strange way of making you feel wanted. His words were often cold at first listen, but when you mulled them over, you could hear a softer sentiment behind them. It was easy for others to mistake your partnership in crime as one of pure business, but you knew, as did Ed though he would deny it at all costs, that you had become friends over the course of your time together.
“It’s ok, I can cope with it. I trust you.” You nudged his side, offering him a quick smile as you glanced to him before setting down your carry load.
Ed’s heart thumped in his chest. The implication that you trusted him meant a lot to him. But that wasn’t why his chest was pounding. No, it was the suggestion that there was a possibility that something could happen, that the unspoken but hinted at intimacy of the situation you had found yourselves in would create a potential reason for you to have to trust him, that’s what had him breaking out in a nervous sweat.
“Besides, it’s freezing in here!”
You rubbed at your arms, turning to face Ed who was staring at you, unblinking and eyes unfocused before snapping back to reality from whatever little plans he was amusing himself with in his head.
“Do you have something I can wear, Ed? This vest is disgusting and look, my arms have goosebumps!” You thrust your forearm into his face, so close to his nose that he flinched. You giggled and prodded his nose with your finger before turning to search through your backpack for your flask.
Ed watched you, trying hard not to consider it leering and more a deep focus on you.
“Um…I think so. There should be a box under the bed, I’m sure I stashed away extra clothing.”
“Perfect!” You shifted focus to the bed, where you knelt and crawled under, rear sticking out much to Ed’s dismay. When you crawled back out you lifted the lid off the box and reached down to lift your vest up over your head.
Ed turned quickly, heading to the small bathroom in the corner of the room to avoid watching you get dressed. Not that he didn’t want to watch, he just knew how inappropriate it was, and around you, it was strange, but he couldn’t trust himself. Perhaps that was why it meant so much that you did. After waiting enough time that you could be finished changing, and that didn’t make it obvious that was why Ed had left, he took a deep breath and re-entered the room, stopped in his tracks as he noticed you pulling blankets out from underneath the bed you were to share.
“Are…are you wearing my shirt?”
“Uh, yeah. Sorry, you said I could wear something. Is that…ok?”
“No th-that’s fine…it’s just…it’s…we should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow, can’t have our brains depleted or deprived, I mean I can afford to lose a few brain cells, but you might-”
“Ha ha! Very funny, don’t even finish that thought. Let me just get the bed ready and we can get our rest.” You smirked at him as you turned to gather up the sheets and blankets, trying to create as much opportunity for insulation as possible.
From behind, Ed watched as you arranged the bed. The way you bent over, stretching to tuck the sheets under the mattress on the side against the wall, yours his shirt rose up, allowing him a glimpse at your underwear, peeking out, tormenting him. You turned around quickly, and he tried to find something else to look at, aware of the red seeping into his cheeks as he pretended to have been very focused on a crack in the wall.
“Ok, done. So…is it less awkward to face each other or to face away, butt to butt?”
Ed cleared his throat, choking on his own saliva, cheeks no longer tinged but flooding with pink.
“I uh…I think probably facing away.”
Ed opted for the inside, preferring to give you more space to spread your limbs over the edge of the bed if need be. His body was used to being crushed, bruised and pushed up against walls after all.
"I think it might be best to sleep...can you sleep with lights on? In case we need to make a quick escape."
"Actually, I would prefer that. It might seem warmer with some light."
Despite his stress, trying to hold his body still and away from yours, he did manage to fall asleep not long after you had dozed off. He was exhausted. He’d slept maybe a total of 5 hours in the past three days and he was running on empty. Despite how uncomfortable he was, his body needed to shut down.
Ever used to fitful sleep, Ed woke up an hour or so later, warm and comfortable before he realised where he was. In his still half-asleep state, he slowly adjusted to the room, the cold wall against his side, the blankets on his body, and your arm, wrapped around him, leaning on his chest with your fingers touching the skin above the vest he wore. As he shifted in shock, your body moved a little, fingers twitching out and grazing over his chest. Softly, agonisingly slowly, he lifted your arm off of him, watching with baited breath as you rolled over, letting out a little sigh before your breathing regulated. Confident that you were once again asleep, Ed shifted his body into the wall, pressed flat against it, nose bent to get as close to it as possible, and as far away from your warm, soft body as he could.
He hadn’t even realised he’d fallen asleep again. The minutes spent staring at the wall, trying to think of anything but your body, close next to him, had obviously bored him to the point that his brain decided sleep was the better option over anxiety, a first for Ed. Something about sharing a space with you soothed him, clearly, and he’d be foolish not to make note of that. But it was more than just being in close proximity. Ed slowly realised the physical closeness between you, as he became aware that he was spooning you, arms wrapped around your body, head close to your neck, your spine curved against his shape, fitting into him like a puzzle piece. The way the light illuminated your skin, the shadows your body made against his, imprinted on to him in his mind.
Ed lay perfectly still, allowing himself to hold you for a bit longer, admiring the way you seemed to have been made for this, and him for you. As criminal as he might be, you were something he cherished, and he kept his hands still and flat against you, convincing himself that if he didn’t move then it wasn’t creepy. He was sharing warmth and comfort, and he felt he deserved it finally. Admittedly, the risk was also intriguing to him, and fuelled by desire and a compulsion to challenge himself, he leant his head closer to you, inhaling deeply to try and take of much of you in as possible.
You stirred at his slight shift, brushing ever so gently against him and letting out a little moan as you stretched against his body. Ed panicked, a warmth spreading in his core as he felt himself get hard, the way you sigh had vibrated through him with your back against his chest, the way your rear, pressed deep into the curve of his own body, rubbed into him. He panicked, unsure of what to do, as you stretched again, rolling over to face him.
“Ed, you’re awake?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“What, why? What’s wrong? Did something-” you felt Ed’s length, hard, against your thigh as you tried to adjust your body to his in the tight quarters. “Oh…oh that’s ok!”
Ed felt faint, the blood rushing to his cheeks, and his cock, dissipating from the rest of him. He was forever irritated with the way you accepted an apology so quickly, knowing it would eventually be your downfall to be so trusting and so kind, even when it was in his favour.
“No, don’t-”
“Honestly, Ed. You’re a man of science, you know as well as I do that it’s a normal, biological reaction to wake up…like that. You don’t have to be embarrassed. I certainly won’t take it to mean anything, it’s not like you’re harbouring some deep-seated crush or that you find me somehow irresistibly attractive.” You laughed, but Ed stayed stoic.
“Your self-deprecation is really irritating at times. I really hoped I would have rubbed off on you by now.”
You raised your eyebrows at him, a small smirk forming on one side of your mouth.
“No, n-not like that! You know what I mean. I just feel that an inflated ego can never harm oneself, I’ve found it only benefits me. It’s painful to see you not take notice of how you appear to other people.”
“Sorry, I just…of all people, I didn’t think you would find me attractive, that’s all.”
“Of course I think you’re attractive.”
Everything Ed said was so matter of fact. And despite wanting to find a lie in his words, you could tell he spoke with sincerity. Heart fluttering in your chest, threatening to burst out of your throat, you leaned in to Ed, who leaned back ever so slightly against your lunge, but let his hand find your hip as your lips met with his.
It was amazing how quickly you found a rhythm in each other’s touches, given that you had spent your time together so far ignoring the feelings that pushed up just below the surface. Ed was surprisingly receptive to your hands, pushing through and grabbing at his hair, tugging at the front of his vest to deepen the kiss you shared. But even so, he was still restrained, hands staying on your hips, grabbing tighter every so often, only to loosen off when he became aware of them.
But you were in a position of power, given that Ed was enclosed between your body and the wall behind him, and pressing him into it in a passionate embrace, he had no other option but to let himself be touched, sighing at the contact, holding back pleads for more as you kissed his cheek, down his neck, breathing against him as he placed his own lips against your neck, copying your moves in a bid to please you. He finally moved his hands, one around your back and the other holding the back of your neck, tensing his fingers into it and hissing against you as your hands found their way to his length.
“Hng…you…don’t have to…huh…do that…”
“I want to, Ed.” You reached below the band of the underwear he had slept in, pulling him out and stroking up the length of his cock, wrapping your palm around his head and applying the lightest of pressures, jolting in pleasure at the whimpers of pleasure he filled your ear with at the sensation.
“Maybe if you’re not so distracted by this, you’ll be able to get to sleep.”
“That…that might…hmm…work…please. Please.” He grabbed your neck tighter, pulling you in to kiss him again, his teeth taking hold of your lower lip as you stroked his cock, harder and faster than before, find the precipice of his tolerance and keeping up the pace. His tongue forced it’s way into your mouth, and the frantic movements of it against your own, the entirely pornographic sounds of the slobbering and moaning as he all but tried to consume you fuelled his orgasm. As his groans became whines, pitched higher than his natural voice, breathier and choked, you leaned in to him, lips brushing past his ears as you whispered.
“Let go, Ed.”
At the command, a strained whimper was choked out of his throat by his own body tensing up, cock thrusting into your fist as he shuddered under his own orgasm, seed spilling on to the sheets and body, clammy and gently shaking, collapsed from the wall onto yours, holding it tight, fingers dug into your back and face buried into your neck as he breathed slowly in and out.
You unbuttoned your shirt, Ed sinking his face into your chest and reasting his cheek on your breasts, as you used your clothes to clean up some of the mess he had left. Holding him against you, you felt his snake his arms around you, clinging to you and shifting you in closer to him, till it felt like you could fit a third person into the bed. Within minutes, he was asleep, peaceful and comfortable against your body.
#q#finnie writes#riddler#the riddler#batman#riddler imagine#the riddler imagine#riddler smut#fanfic#the riddler fanfic#riddler fanfic#riddler x reader#riddler x you#edward nygma#edward nigma#edward nashton#arkham#arkham riddler#arkham!riddler#arkhamverse#the riddler fanfiction
122 notes
·
View notes
Text
brain stew. [vi]
observant vi has noticed you've been doing pretty much anything else but sleeping. drabble series 2/5 proofread.
music pumped through speakers. after hours of silence, you would rather this than any more. you nodded to the beat, mouthing the words, flipping through a book for any semblance of something interesting.
whatever time it was, you didn’t care to know. at this point you were used to the shivers on your skin, the constant fluctuation between hot and cold that either meant you were burning or freezing, the itch to move and exercise even when you felt like a sack of wet sand. the constant drooping of your eyes. and yet, no matter how many times they closed, you never slept.
the song ended. you rewinded it to listen to it again.
“‘m having trouble trying to sleep,” you mumbled along, finding yourself laughing at the lyrics. you closed the book and it landed on your chest. at this point, even the dumbest of things sent you into a fit. that’s just what sleep deprivation-induced delusion was.
“as time ticks by, still i try…”
the music was interrupted by three knocks on your door. you groaned, rolling your eyes. pushing yourself to stand up- and pausing for a moment as your head swam and dizzied- you opened the door.
“[y/n], what the hell are you doing?” vi asked in a slightly pissed whisper.
“uh, nothing?” you chuckled, having to look away. she looked so funny when she was tired and mad at the same time. like an annoyed kitten. “literally i’m doing nothing.”
“you’re doing something. you’re playing music so loud it woke me up.”
“that’s not really hard to do, though. i don’t get it, why are you here.”
“just turn it down so you don’t wake anyone else up. it’s like 3 in the morning.”
“holy shit, it is?” your expression turned especially confusing. shocked, almost horrified, upon learning that fact. time was just a vortex that you couldn’t understand anymore. suddenly you felt like you were a young child, confused at college-level math. your tiny brain couldn’t comprehend it.
vi was quiet for a moment.
“yeah… didn’t you know that? you literally have a clock in your room.”
“can’t… read it anymore…” you mumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose and squeezing your eyes shut. you didn’t even know when you had last slept at this point. “uhm, yeah, i’ll turn it down.”
vi stopped the door before you could close it, looking at you. her gaze was both intimidating and scrutinizing. even in the shitty light of the hall, and even though she was probably tired herself, it didn’t really take a genius to see the bags under your eyes. or the lack of real recognition they held. how your hair and clothes were frazzled from constantly tossing and turning, even though you had tried to smooth them.
“what’s wrong.”
it wasn’t a question, more of a demand.
“i have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“oh, don’t play dumb with me, cupcake. i know you inside and out, alright? and i know when you’re lying.” she put special emphasis on the last part, looking at you with slightly widened eyes. not that you had the strength to meet her gaze, anyway.
you huffed quietly. “i just- i just can’t sleep. okay? that’s all. you can go now.” you once again tried to shut the door, and once again she stopped it. you rolled your eyes, looking at her, your annoyance plastered plainly over your expression.
vi leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. you groaned. so she was planning to stay, hm? she was worried, but she wouldn’t let you see that. “when’s the last time you slept, darling?” she asked.
“i… i dunno. what does- what does that have to do with anything?”
“you don’t know the last time you slept?” worry alarms went off in her head. “you- you really don’t know?”
“i don’t, okay?!” you took a deep breath, quieting yourself. “leave me alone and maybe i can sleep again.” unlike vi, you didn’t even bother attempting to hide your irritation.
“nope. not happening, cupcake. i’m sorry. but you haven’t slept in like, five nights. sometimes you just pass out in class for like an hour, but i haven’t seen you sleep other than that, what the hell is going on?”
“how do you know the last time i slept?"
"well, first of all, i'm your fucking girlfriend. second of all, our dorms are right next to each other, so i know you're nonstop playing music and singing to it." vi explained rather curtly. she didn’t care to monitor her voice as much as you did. "you're damn lucky no one else heard it or you'd be having a very bad time with the dean. for the last time, what the hell is going on?"
"i don't know, okay? i don't know! nothin's stressing me out, but my body just- refuses to get tired! okay? you happy?"
vi didn't look annoyed at your barely-restrained volume. you could finally, plainly see the concern she had bubbling up inside. "that's… no, i'm not, honestly. of course i'm not. you don't look good, cupcake."
"thanks. i needed to hear that." you replied, deadpan.
"that's- that’s not what i meant and you know it."
"oh, do i?"
"i'm not gonna argue any more with you on this. move aside, i'm coming in."
your snarky ass didn’t have the opportunity to protest before she pushed past you, standing in the middle of your messy room. you heard her mumble a ‘geez’ beneath her breath. sometimes your living space was a little messy, so was hers so she couldn’t judge, but it looked about as frazzled and disordered as you were.
“seriously? what do you want, vi? i’m tired.”
“that’s the problem, you aren’t tired. you literally haven’t slept in days. i’m worried about you, okay?, this isn’t healthy.”
the door clicked closed. “i can talk to a doctor or something in the morning.”
“why haven’t you done so already?”
“i- i didn’t care to!”
she was quiet. her gaze felt stifling. instead of being angry, you found yourself now too scared to talk. too scared to look her in the eye, even when you hadn’t hesitated to seconds earlier.
“why not?”
“why waste the time of a doctor when i can just down a bottle of melatonin or something? it… it’s fine. i can deal with my own problems.”
“[y/n], this is exactly why we have doctors. when something goes wrong, big or small, they’re there to fix it. they are experts at fixing the human body.” vi’s voice softened. so did her expression, if you looked up to see it. “sometimes you have problems that you can’t solve on your own. that’s okay.”
this time, you were quiet. the more you talked, the less you understood. sounds mixed together in your mind. you walked over to the stereo, shutting it off. suddenly the silence made your head hurt. clutching it with one hand, you sighed. “i don’t… like… asking for help. why do you think i never told you about this? why do you think you found out on your own? i don’t like- i don’t like admitting something is wrong. i hate how it feels.”
“is it okay if i touch you, cupcake?”
after a moment, you nodded slightly. she rested one hand on your shoulder, the other cupping your cheek. you looked up at her, and to your honest surprise, she wasn’t frowning. she looked serious, but still worried. her eyes only seemed to say ‘i love you.’
“i know how it feels, too. i hated it so much, too. i always wanted to be the tough one, figuring out her own shit, being a role model. but there are just… some fights you can’t win on your own. and for those, asking for help isn’t just okay. it’s strong.” she paused for a moment, her thumb gently caressing your cheek. “your health is on the line. sleep is incredibly important. i understand why you didn’t ask sooner, but please, at least come to me next time something goes wrong. next time something doesn’t feel right.”
you leaned forward, resting your head against her chest. “you won’t judge me if i do, will you?”
“i know people say there are no dumb questions, but that’s a little dumb. i’ve never judged you, and i never will. i love you too much. simple as that.”
you snorted, laughing. it was a muffled sound. but vi smiled at the sound, wrapping her arms tight around you. you returned the hug as tight as you could. she swayed back and forth slightly.
“i didn’t hear you say it back, cupcake.”
“shh! lemme enjoy this moment!”
vi laughed softly. “what, i didn’t hear you.”
“vi!”
“i’m sorry, sweetie, i really can’t.”
“i love you too, damnit! now be quiet and hug me tighter!”
#vi arcane#arcane netflix#arcane#vi x y/n#vi x you#vi x reader#vi x gn reader#vi x gender neutral reader#vi x fem reader#vi x female reader
320 notes
·
View notes
Text
I think this is just what my blog is now. Model streams have taken over. Sorry, not sorry. Favourite moments of Joe and Cleo paper model streams part 5! (Featuring a heavily sleep deprived Joe)
—
Cleo (talking to her cat): Ok. You have had attention. Are you— are you going to go? *pausing* This is the sort of thing I ask Joe. Umm… *laughing*
Joe: Constantly!
Cleo: *laughing* You’ve had your attention, can you go now?
Joe: Can you just not be here. *both laughing*
—
Cleo: Yeah, I have to start gluing things to other things. Badly. And, uh, realizing where I’ve messed up. Which is EVERYWHERE!
Joe: Uh oh.
Cleo (totally not fine): Its fine. It’s fine. I’m fin— how are you Joe?
—
Joe: It makes about as much sense as anything else I do? So…
Cleo: I mean yeah. I mean, I wasn’t gonna say it cause I’m not rude. But, you know.
*both laughing*
Joe: Now you’re just lying to me!
Cleo: *laughing* WOW!! Joe!! My heart is just hurting! Now.
Joe: Mhm.
Cleo: You can tell can’t you, I’m deeply— intensely wounded by that statement that you just made.
—
Joe: I was gonna say, we’re gonna have to call whatever the British version of an ambulance is.
Cleo: Um, I think— and I could be wrong here, the British equivalent of an ambulance is…an ambulance.
Joe: oh, ok that’s really good to know. Cause like, not that I’m planning on getting injured while I’m over there, but like—
Cleo: I mean, if you carry on talking that way you might.
Joe: I mean if I meet you, then there’s a chance that somethings gonna get shoved in my eye or something.
Cleo: Somethings gonna get taken off.
—
Joe: I mean, they say it’s the shotty carpenter that blames his poor tools, but I mean look at this.
—
Cleo (about her bisexual tags on twitch): Hold on, hold on, I need to explain what “visibility” means to bisexuals. Bisexuals are often— um, hidden in the community. They are often, um, not treated as either part of the gay community and the straight community doesn’t really appreciate them either. So, having visibility for bisexuals is very important. As it is for any other place. Also having those tags on your stream show that you are a safe place for those people to go. So, you know, actually labeling those things is important because it shows people that they are not alone. And not being alone? Really important. (To Joe) Sorry, am getting frustrated.
Joe: As somebody who’s been alone for the last year and a half with this stupid isolation, uh, yeah.
Cleo: Yeah! Being alone and not feeling alone is really important.
Joe: If you need to be explained at this point in the pandemic why feeling alone is not good, like I don’t know what to say.
—
Cleo (reading chat): What’s my favourite minecraft mob? Do people have favourite minecraft mobs?
Joe (very tired): Just say whichever mod’s here. Who’s got a sword *scrolling through Cleo’s chat* umm… yeah it’s AnnaBomBanana. Is everyone’s favourite minecraft mod.
Cleo: …moB.
Joe: …MOB! OH!
Cleo: *continuous laughing*
—
Joe: This is gonna go off of the rails further and further. There’s no— there’s no rails anymore! It’s just, somebody has scrawled “here there be dragons” on the ground.
Cleo: I mean, isn’t that pretty much how you live your life anyway?
Joe (high pitched squealing): It kind of is. *laughing continues*
Cleo: You know. Here there be dragons— Sometimes it’s not dragons. Sometimes you might be lucky.
—
Joe: So, like, one thing you can do is after this project you can build tiny dollhouses. And create like a bedroom for each of your tools. And so the knife can just be in the knife room. In the dollhouse. And it can have a knife day.
SILENCE
Cleo: Umm…I’m gonna pretend like what you said made sense.
—
Cleo: I could have said something really nasty then, but I’m not going to. See? I’m growing as a person Joe.
—
Joe: You know what? Hold on, we’re gonna— we’re gonna— at the point where NJ is concerned about my caffeine intake, I’m gonna go get a red bull and I’m gonna take my headphones off before anybody can tell me otherwise, byeeeeeeeeeeee!!!! Be right back!!!! *leaves*
Cleo (calling after him): Well done Joe! I believe in you! *narrating* She did not in fact believe in Joe, and was very concerned.
—
Cleo: I know when there’s a bad idea. It’s when Joe has made it. Joe has suggested it, that’s— that’s when you know it’s bad.
—
Joe: I know that there are ways to have computers automatically send invites, but that’s a good way, like, I know there’s a saying like, to error is human, but to screw up like a hundred thousand things all at once—
Cleo: That’s the Joe Hills Difference.
—
Cleo: Ugh, I feel like poop today.
Joe (genuine): I’m sorry.
Cleo (tiredly): No, that’s ok…(groggy) I’ll torment you…later…it’ll make me feel better…
Joe (equally as tired): Yay!
—
Joe (about Cleo and Xisuma): But Cleo, you’re the responsible adult in this scenario, so yeah you probably should have some answers.
Cleo: X is almost as old as I am.
SILENCE
Joe: …it’s a maturity gap?
Cleo: *laughing* Is that why I’m here with you?
Joe: …no.
Cleo: *laughing*
Joe: I say very confidently.
—
Joe (teacher voice): Quantum mechanics is a fundamental theory in physics that provides a description of the physical properties of nature at the scale of atoms and subatomic particles—
Cleo: *flipping him off*
Joe (blissfully unaware): Now classical physics! The collection of theories that existed before the advent of quantum mechanics—
Cleo: *trying to ignore him*
Joe (carrying on): Quantum mechanics differs from classical physics in that energy, momentum, angular momentum, and other quantities of a bound system are restricted to discreet values—
Cleo: *fingers drumming impatiently*
Joe (still going): Now! Quantum mechanics arose gradually from theories to explain observations which could not be reconciled with classical physics—
Cleo: *physically going through all 5 stages of grief*
Joe: (insert continuously long string of rambling science here)
Cleo: *mutes Joe*
—
Cleo (responding to her partner in chat): You have the movie poster for Dora the Explorer? Cam, I’m suddenly questioning our relationship now.
Joe: Uh oh.
Cleo: *laughing*
Joe: Yeah, I knew I was gonna get blamed for that eventually.
—
Cleo (frustrated): I’m gonna kill someone. And since the person who made and designed this castle isn’t here…(trailing off) Hi Joe.
Joe (accepted his fate): Hello.
—
Joe: Have you ever officiated a wedding?
Cleo: No I haven’t. Why, do you want me to?
—
Joe: Oh! Oh! I found my cross stitch the other day!
Cleo: Oh cool!
Joe: *rummaging in the background* Yeah, so, I don’t know if you’ve seen this before—
Cleo (excitedly): ShowMeShowMeShowMeShowMe!!!
—
Joe (reading chat): Am I excited for Minecraft Live? Umm…
SILENCE
Joe: You know, so much of life is minecraft, but you know, maybe this is just a step too far. You know? Um, I think Mojang asked if they could and never stopped to ask if they should. Um, you know, I think their decision in particular to clone dinosaurs at the event as part of their Jurrassic Park, uh, map thing that they put out— which, also, it’s not even like the Jurrassic Park movies are really for kids, but here’s— here’s Minecraft with Jurrassic Park in it, and also we’re gonna clone a bunch of dinosaurs for this livestream, it’s like *groaning*. I dunno. I’m dubious. I think it’s gonna backfire. Ya know, there’s like 4 cautionary films about why you don’t clone dinosaurs. And they’re just jumping in feet first. So…but, you know, I’d like to be wrong about this. Maybe it’ll go great.
Cleo: …are you having a moment Joe?
—
Cleo (reading chat): “when the arts and crafts streams become Cleo with a scream mask” I am not X. I am not X, I promise you I’m not X. I just don’t have a face.
Joe: Heh
Cleo: And if I was— hang on I’ll be back in a second.
Joe: …wait, did you just realize that you do have a scream mask?
Cleo: No, I have a better mask. *leaves*
SILENCE
Joe: *watching Cleo’s stream intensely*
—
Cleo: Are we seriously doing guillotine jokes right now? I’m not saying I disapprove, but
Joe: yeah, we say “Giatine”
Cleo: That’s ok, you can be wrong.
Joe: …It’s a french word.
Cleo: And? You’re allowed to be wrong.
Joe: …*deep sigh*
—
Joe: It’s funny too. Because people will tell me that I don’t seem like a very— like, mostly my coworkers. Like, would tell me that I didn’t seem like a particularly emotional person.
Cleo: *bursts out laughing*
—
Joe: Yeah, I feel like I didn’t make a lot of…visible progress today…but…it’s fine…
Cleo: I made progress for both of us Joe.
Joe (tiredly): Thank you Cleo… (resting head against the ring light)
SILENCE
Cleo (tenderly): …You’re welcome.
245 notes
·
View notes
Text
evanescence (m.)
pairing: kim jungwoo x fem. reader
genre/warnings: ghost au, explicit sexual content, angst, fluff, mentions of death, some graphic violence/ gore, character death, brief mention of heights, i swear it’s not as bad as it sounds
word count: 7.8k
summary:
evanescence (n.): the quality of being fleeting or vanishing quickly; impermanence; i.e the evanescence of dreams
song to listen to: me & your ghost- blackbear, faded in my last song- nct, trampoline- SHAED, lonely heart- 5 seconds of summer, dreaming with a broken heart- john mayer
notes: evanescence i.e not the band who wrote my immortal <3 part of the almost collab!
The thing about fear is that it’s irrational.
Of course the doll in the corner of your room won’t suddenly come alive and kill you. Of course the spider on your ceiling is actually harmless. Of course nightmares won’t come true and haunt you in your daily life, won’t do more than bother you for a few minutes when you’re asleep. Knowing that doesn’t make it any less scary. Doesn’t stop the shivers from crawling up your spine, doesn’t ease your breathing when you curl into yourself in an attempt to hide.
Some people find comfort in crawling under their blankets, hiding themselves from the rest of the world as if the thick cloth will protect them. You don’t have that luxury. Because the thing you fear isn’t some axe murderer breaking into your house, or some mutant spider wrapping you up in a web. It’s not ghosts or ghouls or demons.
It’s sleep itself.
You used to love sleeping. Naps were considered a favorite hobby of yours, a way to escape from your obligations temporarily or lift your spirits during a bad day. But the line between like and dislike is thin, and the peaceful dreams you were accustomed to transformed into terrors that torture your nights and leave you shaking and sleep deprived when you wake.
Coffee becomes your best friend, the drink becoming a crutch that you use desperately to avoid reliving the nightmare that haunts you every time your eyes fall shut. It’s always the same scene: a basement, a young man being tortured by a masked figure. Punched, strangled, stabbed. It’s always in that order, with the exact same amount of punches and stabbings each time- six. It’s worse than any movie you’ve ever seen, worse than anything that you can imagine. And yet it doesn’t get any less horrifying as time goes on, as you relive the same thing over and over again.
The only thing that changes is the point of view. Sometimes you can see it from his perspective, begging for mercy from an expressionless figure whose ears fall deaf to the boy’s pleas. That’s the worst, you think, because you can feel everything. It leaves you frantically checking yourself for wounds and marks and bruises, the vividness of your dream leaving you shocked when you find your skin unmarred. Sometimes you watch from the corner of the room, able to see everything yet unable to help, your voice stuck in your throat when you attempt to cry for help. And sometimes, you’re the killer, repeatedly delivering blow after blow in a body you can’t control.
Tonight’s different. Instead of the boy strapped to the chair, it’s you.
You shake and cry out, trying desperately to free yourself of the restraints. They aren’t strong, and yet your limbs feel like jelly and you can’t break free of them. A shadow looms over you and you look up, expecting to see the killer, but you don’t. Instead, the boy stands over you.
His features are softer like this, not scrunched in pain or splattered with blood and bruises. He smiles gently at you.
“Hello,” He says, kneeling down in front of you. One hand lands on yours and the restraints fall away, your limbs now free. “I’m Jungwoo.” You just blink at him. “I’ve seen you in my dreams.” Jungwoo’s smile falters a bit, and he huffs a humorless laugh. “That… yeah. That’s less of a dream and more of a…” He trails off, shrugs. “Memory.”
It takes a moment for it to process fully. Memory? If that’s his memory, then that means that he had to go through all of that. “I’m- I’m so sorry. Who put you through that?” He shrugs. “Dunno. But I wouldn’t pity me too much.” There’s a tight lipped smile on his face. “I’m the one that’s made you go through it, too.”
You blink once, twice, and feel the sympathy in your bones turn to fury. “Why?” You ask, tears brimming at your eyes. “I didn’t do anything to you! And you still tortured me, every night. Do you know how terrified I was? I am?”
“I’m sorry.” Jungwoo says, eyes downcast. “I didn’t even know I was projecting onto you at first. I would just get so consumed with what happened that night, and I guess you would relive the scene with me.” He takes a slow step towards you and raises his head. “I never meant to hurt you, I’m sorry.” You nod, because what can you say? Jungwoo doesn’t seem to know either and he stands there, shifting from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at you. “So.” You start, head tilting to the side curiously. “How does this work?” “How does what work?” Jungwoo seems surprised, but whether it’s by your question or by the fact that you’re able to string a coherent sentence together is lost on you.
“I dunno. This. Like are you a ghost? Do you just like, live inside my head now.” “Yeah, I mean I’m dead so I must be a ghost. Haven’t had much time to talk to people and ask.” It’s not meant to be funny, but you can’t stop yourself from laughing. You clear your throat to cover it, trying to focus your energy on your next words. He doesn’t look too hurt at your amusement, though. His eyes are twinkling.
“Hmm let’s test it. If you live in my head, you should be able to hear my thoughts right?” Jungwoo stares at you, bringing one hand up to stroke his chin thoughtfully. Finally, he snaps his fingers. “Got it! You want pizza.” “Nope! I want you out of my head.” Your smile is sickeningly sweet. Jungwoo rolls his eyes, tongue sticking into his cheek briefly before laughing.
“Well, I want to be alive but here we are. Guess we’re at a standstill.”
Guilt fills you and you open your mouth to apologize, but Jungwoo disappears right before your eyes. You try to call out after him but it’s too late, the dream’s over. The annoying beep of your alarm replaces his soft laughter and you groan, fumbling with your phone to turn the sound off.
Classes pass quickly for once, although you’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t register any of the material. You’re done for the day before you know it, finding yourself at a cafe with Johnny. “You’re in a good mood.” He comments, looking at you with his eyebrows furrowed. “Did you get replaced by aliens?” You roll your eyes. “I can be in a good mood, Johnny.” It’s rarely true because you’re normally running off of approximately six minutes of sleep, but hey, it still counts.
Johnny raises his eyebrows. “Y/n, you’re never in a good mood. Not even when your best friend is here.”
“My best friend is here? Where?” Johnny gives you a deadpan expression and you laugh, popping a grape into your mouth. “Kidding, you know I love you. But guess what: I actually slept last night!” He gasps so obnoxiously loud that he inhales the chip he was holding and chokes around it, slamming his hand down on the table and hacking his lungs out. You put your head in your hands until he finally recovers. “You slept? You actually slept? Holy fuck, you did get replaced by aliens!”
“No aliens, John. No nightmares either.” Johnny, though he’s your best friend, doesn’t know the details of your dreams. He knows that they’re bad enough to make you cry and curl up in his arms from time to time, knows that you chug energy drinks to avoid sleeping, but that’s about it. No gruesome murders in sight for him.
“Holy shit, that’s great! We should celebrate.” Johnny reaches across the table to high five you, grinning from ear to ear. “Wanna come over and crack open a few cold ones?” He bites his lip and you know that it’s taking all of his effort not to finish that sentence.
You appreciate it, but you shake your head. “I’ve got a lab report to finish plus like two papers due. I really don’t have time.” That’s only slightly true. Yes, you do have homework, but you normally wouldn’t let that stop you. The itch to see Jungwoo again, however crazy it may sound, is driving you crazy and for once in your life, you can’t wait to fall asleep. Seeing Johnny’s expression drop makes you feel a little bad for bailing on him with a ghost. “Maybe this weekend?”
“Yeah, for sure.” Johnny grins again. “Hopefully you get to sleep tonight.”
The nightmares seem to go away permanently after that. Your dreams always take place in that one room, but Jungwoo’s always there to greet you. A month passes and you learn a lot about him, almost to the point where you see him as a friend. Almost. Because you can’t really be friends with someone who isn’t alive, right? But he feels real. His spirit is still alive, to the point where you forget he’s a ghost who you can only talk to in your dreams, and that’s what matters. Except tonight when you fall asleep, you open your eyes to sand and salt water, gentle waves calmly lapping at the shore. Strange. Jungwoo sits with his back facing you, knees drawn up to his chest. He doesn’t look up when you sit down next to him, but he does speak when you say his name softly.
“I think I figured out why I came back.” Jungwoo says, eyes concentrated on the water. “My brother’s in danger.” His head drops to rest on his knees and you pat his back, not knowing what to say.
You don’t learn what Jungwoo meant until the next night, the man so distraught that he isn’t able to form words before your time’s up. The scene is different again this time, a playground replacing the beach from the night before. Jungwoo sits on a red plastic swing, his feet dragging on the ground sadly.
“Hey Jungwoo.” You call out the greeting gently, taking a seat next to him. “Are you okay?” He nods, laughs a little. “Yeah, sorry for freaking out last night. It’s just. It’s a lot.” “Sounds like it is. You wanna talk about it?” You pat his knee comfortingly and he stares at your hand for a long moment before covering it with his own.
He tells you about his brother first, about how much he misses Mark, about how bad he feels for leaving him on his own. Mark’s younger than him, but only by a year, and he was nowhere near as good as him at FIFA. He tells you that he doesn’t remember who killed him, but that as soon as he was transported to the beach, he knew his brother was in danger. There’s no explanation on how the beach told him that, but you have no place questioning the afterlife. You listen patiently throughout the whole story, and it seems to help Jungwoo, his shoulders sagging with relief when he’s done.
“So whoever killed me,” Jungwoo squeezes your hand, stares at the woodchips dragging around. “They’re going to kill my brother next.”
“So we find your killer. Easy.” You squeeze his hand back. “Mark’s going to be okay, Woo. I promise.”
~
Tonight’s dream takes place on a rooftop. There are lights strung up that lead you straight to Jungwoo, the man facing you with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. His arms are outstretched and you walk into them, sighing softly when he wraps you in his embrace. Lips press to your forehead and you swear you’ve reached heaven. “Dance with me.” He whispers it as if you have a choice to disagree with him when he looks this good. You nod and bury your face in his chest, swaying with him under the stars. There’s music playing now, music that you didn’t hear before, and he hums softly to it as you dance. A squeal leaves you when he spins you, dipping you down before pulling you close, your back to his chest. His lips graze your ear and he laughs before spinning you back around and pulling you into a kiss.
It feels so good and you find yourself getting lost in his touch. The warmth of him against you, the solidness of his chest under your palms. It’s so nice, so comforting, so… real. But it can’t be real. Because this is a dream, because Jungwoo is dead. The thought is enough to jolt you out of your haze and you try to pull back, need to pull back, but the hand on the back of your head holds you still and it feels so good that you almost don’t want to pull out of his embrace. “Jungwoo,” you mumble his name against his lips, not wanting to pull away from the kiss but needing to know the answer to your question. “Jungwoo, are you real?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jungwoo chuckles, pulling you back for more. “Don’t I feel real?”
A gasp leaves you when his hand slips lower to your ass, squeezing before slipping between your thighs. He finds little resistance, easily reaching under your dress and past the thin panties you’re wearing to swipe through your folds and enter you, stretching you out deliciously well. You cling to him as if he’s your life line and not the other way around, letting him take you apart with his fingers. His name leaves your lips in a sob and you press your face against his neck, clutch at his shoulders. “Please, Jungwoo, please.”
Both of his hands slide to your ass and he picks you up easily, your legs wrapping around his waist automatically. He carries you over to the ledge of the roof, setting you down on the cool stone. He barely gives you time to take in what’s happening before he’s dropping to his knees in front of you, his eyes dark and so intense that you can’t look away from his gaze as he attaches his lips to your thighs. You slide one hand into his hair and he moans into your skin, the vibrations traveling through you as he kisses his way up your thighs and to your core. A sigh leaves you and you put your other hand behind you for balance, your heart dropping to your stomach when your fingertips wrap around the edge of the balcony. “Jungwoo!” You yelp immediately trying to stand up when you look behind you and see the darkness below you, decorated with lights from buildings so far down that they’re almost as tiny as the stars above you. “Jungwoo, I’m gonna fall. Ohmygod I’m gonna fall, Woo-”
“Shh,” Jungwoo hushes you, rubbing your thigh soothingly. He reaches for your hand and laces your fingers together, taking a moment to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Look at me, y/n. You’re not going to fall, okay? I’ll always be here to catch you if you do.” Something in his eyes looks so honest, so sincere, and you find yourself nodding slowly.
“Okay.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, too scared to raise it any louder and break the moment between you. “I trust you.” Jungwoo smiles up at you one more time before lowering himself down to your core. His free hand lifts the edge of your dress up and he takes his time rubbing slow circles into your clit, sighing out praises about how good you are when you shake from the unbearably intense sensation. His eyes stay on yours the whole time, even as he lowers his mouth to your pussy and eats you out like a man starved. It feels so good that you can barely process it, squirming against him and letting your eyes roll back.
“Fuck, Jungwoo,” You whimper, feeling your orgasm build up in the pit of your stomach. “Shit, c’mere.” You use the hand buried in his hair to tug him up, pressing his lips to yours for a sloppy kiss that feels way too good for the moment. He rubs messy circles into your clit that have you clutching him tight to your chest, crying out his name so loud that you’re sure the entire city can hear you. “You like that?” Jungwoo asks, although his voice is so cocky that you’re almost entirely sure he knows the answer. “Fucking love it,” You pant out, orgasm so close you can taste. “Love you, ohmygod.” The end of your sentence cuts off with a whine as you come so hard you nearly black out, holding onto him so tightly you’re sure you would’ve broken at least one of his bones if this were real.
If this were real, if he were real. If this wasn’t a dream with a ghost. The realization washes over you like cold water and the dream disappears before you in a flash, leaving you trembling and empty in more ways than one. Your hand is tingling and when you look at it, you realize that Jungwoo didn’t let go the entire time.
You’re not in your bed when you wake up. It takes you a moment to realize it, the weight of your dream still heavy on your mind, but then you open your eyes and process your surroundings and realize that even though you’re awake, you’re back in your nightmares.
A scream leaves you and you jolt out of the chair, falling flat on your ass. You scramble backwards a good few feet before relaxing, realizing that your mind was just playing tricks on you. This is no nightmare place, it’s just your basement. Except…
That chair is definitely the chair from your nightmares- or well, Jungwoo’s murder. You’ve never seen it down here before, but then again, you never go into the basement. It’s been years since you’ve been down here, the room always giving you the creeps. And you’ve never sleepwalked- you can’t fathom why you’d be down here.
“Jungwoo?” You whisper, not even flinching at the gust of cold air as he materializes next to you. “Why am I down here?” “This is where I was murdered.” Jungwoo murmurs, his gaze distant, cloudy. You furrow your eyebrows.
“Here? Are you sure?” He nods strongly, not an ounce of hesitation on his face. You get to your feet and watch him pace around, tentatively poking at objects. A violent shudder runs through him when he touches the chair. “Jungwoo, this is my house.” He freezes. “This is your house? Then you must know who murdered me.”
There’s a long second where you just stare at him, not knowing what to say. Thoughts abandon you and your mind goes blank, leaving you to shake your head and stutter out objections. “W- No, Jungwoo, I can’t-” A deep breath, a heavy exhale. “No one ever comes down here, and I can’t remember the last time I even had people here.”
“Well someone had to come down here!” Jungwoo presses, motioning at himself. “Y/n, I’m dead. You could help me find who killed me.”
You spend hours thinking through every person you know, mulling over all of your friends and anyone else who has ever been to your house. Parents are ruled out immediately- they live across the country, first off, and your mom nearly cries whenever she so much as swats a fly. Jungwoo tries to help, but he doesn’t know anyone the way that you do, and he’s a tad bit negative.
“Okay, but how do you know they’re not killers.” He asks, tone flat. “I mean, do you have hard evidence? Because somehow none of them are killers, and yet…” He smiles humorlessly and holds his arms out, doing a twirl for you. “I’m dead.” “I’m trying.” You say tiredly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s just hard. Literally no one ever comes over, and I can’t picture my friends as killers. Plus, no one has access to my house except for me.” You purse your lips, staring at your sad little notepaper list with dozens of names scratched out. “Is it possible this happened before I lived here?” Jungwoo shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.” He doesn’t look convinced.
You purse your lips, groaning in defeat when your mind stays blank. “I’m sorry, Woo. We’ll figure it out eventually, I promise. I just can’t think right now.” “Hey, it’s okay. Thank you for helping and not like, I don’t know, calling an exorcist.” Jungwoo presses himself to your side, poking your cheek when you laugh, and his presence is so comforting that it’s easy to forget that he’s not really there. You swat at him good naturedly, your laugh cutting off early when you realize that he’s disappeared. You call for him a few times, panic racing through your mind, until he manifests again a few feet away from you.
“Ohmygod, I’m so sorry! Did that hurt you? I didn’t know that would happen!” You jump to your feet, reaching out to him on impulse before thinking better of it.
Jungwoo laughs softly, but his form flickers. “It’s okay. I guess you can only touch me in dreams.” He smiles, but it’s with his mouth closed tight. The chair becomes visible through his form as he flickers again.
The mention of touch jolts your memories and you scratch the back of your neck nervously. “Wait, Woo, I meant to ask.” He looks at you expectantly, humming for you to go on. “Last night, in the dream. Was that like, was that really you?” “Hm? Are you asking if it was real or not?” Jungwoo asks. You nod, unable to look away from his gaze. “It was me, y/n. I’m real.”
You nod, lips pursed as you think it over. Jungwoo smiles though it’s hollow, hard to see the usual light in him when he’s nearly translucent again. “I’ll see you tonight?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer before vanishing, leaving you alone in the cold basement.
“Yeah.” You whisper softly, a dark cloud hanging over your head.
~
“What’s in the bag?” Johnny asks you, nodding towards your bookbag. It’s normally empty, save for a notebook or wallet, but today it’s stuffed full of newspaper clippings and binders.
“Nothing.” You shrug. “Just some old articles.”
Johnny thumbs through a stack of the papers before looking up at you, his forehead creased. “On murders?”
“Yeah. They’re interesting. Figured I should know the history of the town I live in, right?” You take a sip of your coffee, hoping you don’t look as insane as you feel. It’d taken you hours of searching to find those articles, digging through the library archives and reading murder after murder to find ones that seemed similar to Jungwoo’s case. They were unsettling, to say the least, and the fact that someone had taken a life under your own roof left you jittery. “I mean, I guess?” Johnny shakes his head and thumbs through a few more, hesitating at one of the clippings before shoving them back in your bag. “Kind of an appetite killer.” He says, pausing after a second and laughing. “Hah, get it? Killer…” The cold stare you give him has him sobering up quickly. He clears his throat. “Anyways. What else have you been up to? You’ve been kinda distant lately.” Have you been? Probably. “Sorry.” You shrug. “Caught up in my work, you know how it is.” Johnny wiggles his eyebrows. “Seeing a new man?” You shoot him a withering look. He throws his hands up innocently. “Woman? Person?”
The word ‘ghost’ is on the tip of your tongue, but that sounds insane even to you. You can’t be seeing someone whose body fades out of existence when you so much as blow air on him too strongly. “No, Johnny. I’d tell you if I was dating someone.” “Promise?” He asks. You hold your pinky out to him, interlocking the digits and offering him a smile. He grins back. “Good. You wanna come over tonight? Play some video games, order some pizza?”
It sounds good, and you really don’t want to be alone at your house after discovering it was the site of a murder, but you don’t want to leave Jungwoo. He’s kind of counting on you for something big, plus you have all those articles to show him…
At your hesitation, Johnny pouts. “Come on, I feel like I’ve barely seen you for like, a month. Please? It’ll be just like old times.” The promise of old times has your resolve fading, and you give into his whining. He cheers and knocks your coffees together, dramatically complaining when the liquid splashes onto his sleeve.
~
Taking a nap had seemed like a great idea when you had gotten home from lunch, but it’s the first time you’ve dreamt without Jungwoo in your dreams, and all of the nightmares were so genuinely disturbing that you wake up sobbing. Every room seems so foreboding that you can’t bring yourself to sit in the house any longer and you run out the door without any further thought. The rain soaks through your thin sleep clothes and you find that you have three missed calls from Johnny, but you don’t bother to call him back. You’ll be at his place soon enough, and the rain is starting to blue the screen too much for you to see. Or maybe it’s your tears, you can’t be sure, and you really don’t care.
You knock on Johnny’s door, stepping back and impatiently shifting from foot to foot before stepping forward and knocking again. Exhaling harshly, you raise your fist to knock again. The door opens.
A very disgruntled Johnny stands before you, one hand wiping at his face. His hair is disheveled and you have the conscious thought that he must have just woken up, but your brain is flying a million miles a second and you don’t have time to spend worrying about if you’ve interrupted his beauty sleep. “Y/n?” Johnny yawns out, opening the door wider. “You were supposed to come over like 3 hours ago.” His sentence goes unfinished as you push past him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the living room. With your hands on his shoulders, you push him down to sit on the couch. He looks less tired and more confused now, which makes sense considering he’s never seen you act like this- you’re not even sure that you’ve ever acted like this- but he keeps silent, trusting you enough to tell him what the fuck is going on. He patiently puts his hands on his knees, watching you pace around the area.
It takes you a while to formulate exactly what to say to him. How exactly do you tell your best friend that you’ve been helping a ghost solve his own murder without him attempting to send you to a psych ward? After a few moments of pacing, in which you accidentally leave a trail of muddy footprints on Johnny’s carpet, you pause.
“This is going to sound insane.” You start, facing Johnny. He nods encouragingly, motioning for you to go on. “I need you to believe me. Promise me that you’ll hear me out until the very end.” Johnny nods. “No, I need you to promise me.” Maybe it’s how frantic your voice sounds, or the fact that you’re soaking wet and still breathing heavily from your run, but Johnny promises without hesitation. His voice is soft and his eyes are wide and you thank God for giving you such a good best friend. You search his eyes with your own, and finding nothing but encouragement and trust, you begin.
“Okay, so. You know those nightmares I’ve been having?” A nod. “Okay, so apparently there’s a ghost living in my house that’s been like, projecting their memories onto me.” Johnny blinks, not even trying to hide the skeptical look on his face. “Before you say anything, I know it sounds crazy. But ghosts are real. Jungwoo- Jungwoo’s real.” Johnny inhales sharply. “His name is Jungwoo?”
“Yeah. He was murdered 4 years ago in my basement. My basement, Johnny.” You take a deep breath, shuddering. “Whoever did it is still out there, and Jungwoo thinks that his brother might be in danger.” You shift anxiously from foot to foot, hands wringing together in front of you until Johnny takes them into his own, thumbs rubbing over the backs of your hands to calm you. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but can you help me find him? I just need to make sure that he’s okay, and I know it’s silly that I promised a ghost but-” “I’ll help.” There’s a reassuring smile on Johnny’s face when he interrupts you, and you breath out in relief. “It’s okay, y/n. I believe you.”
You launch yourself forward into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t deserve you.” Johnny laughs. “Yeah, you don’t.” He pulls back from the hug long enough to look you in the eyes. “For right now, let's go to bed, yeah? You really look like you need some rest.”
~
“Okay, so here’s his address. I mean, I think it’s his address.” Johnny looks over your shoulder at the satellite image of Mark’s house, nodding. “We can get there in about two hours.” Johnny hums, stepping away from the computer. “I can get us there faster than that, don’t worry. C’mon, let’s have some coffee and then we can go.” He makes sure you eat something that actually has nutritional value before you go, even going as far as to pack a bag before you hit the road. Johnny does his best to reassure you throughout the drive, but you’re a nervous mess. You compulsively take sips from the water bottle Johnny had forced you to take with and it’s empty in no time, leaving you to drum your fingers along your thighs and squirm with a full bladder.
The house looks so much bigger, so much more foreboding in person. Johnny gives you a reassuring look and after a deep breath, you knock on the door. It takes a few seconds before it creaks open to reveal a man around your age peering at you through black-rimmed glasses that sit crookedly on his face. “Hello?” “Hi, Mark?” he nods, looking you up and down. “Do you have a moment to talk? I just have a few questions, it w-” He’s already moving to close the door before the sentence is even out of your mouth. “Wait, Mark!” You manage to wedge your foot in the door before it closes and he groans, rolling his eyes.
“Look, I’m really not in the mood to buy anything, so if you could just please-” He tries again. “It’s about your brother!” You exclaim, finally succeeding in getting Mark to listen. He freezes and stares down at you dumbly. His eyes stay on you for a little too long before lifting to look behind you.
“Johnny?” Mark asks, eyes widening. “Is that you?” You look over to find Johnny standing behind you, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah, it’s me. How you doin, kid?”
Mark lets you into the house after tackling Johnny into a hug, offering you tea and a seat on the couch. “I didn’t know you knew Jungwoo,” You whisper to Johnny, watching Mark grab cups from the kitchen.
Johnny shrugs. “Never had a reason to bring him up.” He definitely could’ve brought him up earlier, like when you mentioned you were seeing his ghost, but you brush it off as nothing. Maybe he didn’t want to upset you.
Mark returns, offering you each a cup of tea before taking a seat on the couch opposite you. “Wow, it’s been so long.” Mark laughs, clutching his tea for dear life. “It’s so good to see friends of Jungwoo’s again. It’s like, it’s not the same as seeing him but. It’s nice.”
“Good to see you too, Mark.” Johnny smiles. “I looked all over for you after Jungwoo’s death, but I couldn’t find you. When did you move?” Mark sniffs. “Um, I think like a month after it happened. They arrested the guy that killed him and I dipped. It was too painful to see all those little reminders of him everywhere.” Mark sniffs again, and wipes harshly at his eye. It makes you tear up a little too, thinking about how fondly Jungwoo talked about his brother, how unfair it is that they got ripped apart so soon. One phrase sticks out to you and you manage to reel yourself back in before you start crying too hard.
“Wait, they caught the guy? Do you know who killed him?” You side eye Johnny because he must have known that the killer was caught already, and it doesn’t make sense that he didn’t tell you considering that was the sole reason for this trip.
“Um, well. Jungwoo uh, he had a sort of accident.” His hands are shaking, you notice. Some tea spills onto his leg. “He used to go out to all these parties and he swore he’d be safe but I guess he slipped up this one time.” Mark takes a deep breath and his voice cracks. “He was driving home from a party and he probably thought he was fine but he was way too drunk and he hit a pedestrian. He drove away but her boyfriend saw the whole thing and followed him.” Mark drops his head down and sobs a little.
Johnny moves to comfort him and Mark calms down after a few moments, skillfully changing the topic away from his dead brother. All the water that you drank in the car finally catches up to you and you excuse yourself for a second. Mark’s laughter rings clearly from the living room and you can’t help but to laugh too, smiling at Johnny’s ability to make everyone happy. You fix your hair in the mirror, a little spring in your step at the thought of being able to fulfill your promise to Jungwoo.
You wish he was with you right now as you walk down the hallway back to the living room. There are so many pictures on the walls, Mark’s accomplishments framed proudly. It sends an ache through your heart that you’re here to see all of this by yourself. It’s only then, when you’re picturing Jungwoo exploring the house with you, that you realize how quiet it’s gotten.
Frowning, you call out Johnny’s name. You get no response and call out again, finally catching movement out of the corner of your eye. “Johnny, why’d you sneak up on me?” A laugh leaves you when you turn to fully face him, cutting off only at the flash of color that slowly fades to black.
~
Your head is throbbing when you come to, vision taking a few seconds to clear up. A groan leaves you and you shake your head softly, coming face to face with Mark. A Mark whose mouth is covered with duct tape. You freeze, eyes widening, then look down to find that the rest of him is bound, too. “What-”
Panic surges through you when you realize that your hands and ankles are bound too, and you jerk your head to the side, frantically searching to make sure that Johnny’s okay. You don’t find him. It’s only you and Mark in the room. “Johnny? Hey, whoever the fuck has us down here better leave Johnny the fuck alone!” You might currently be tied up, but the fact that your best friend is missing and potentially hurt overtakes any concern you may have for yourself. Mark’s eyes widen and he shakes his head frantically. You furrow your eyebrows and go to ask what he means, but you don’t get the chance.
“Oh, don’t worry. Johnny’s just fine.” The sentence comes from the man himself, standing right in front of the door. Relief fills you, turning to dread the second he closes the door and flips the lock. “You however…” “Johnny? What are you doing?” You ask, watching as he rolls his sleeves up to the elbow.
He tips his head to the side, looking at you with confusion. “Isn’t it obvious?” The glint in his eyes matches the knife he picks up, the dim light catching on the shine of the blade. “For someone who apparently experienced Jungwoo’s death dozens of times, you should be able to figure it out.”
You blink once, twice, and then your eyes bug so far out of your head you worry they might fall out. A soft wheeze leaves you as your chest constricts, panic blooming in your gut. Johnny wheezes too, but his is a wheeze of laughter. He’s amused.
His eyes slide down to Mark, whose eyes are glimmering with fresh tears. “Did you know it was me Mark? Did you know it was me who killed your brother?” The boy shakes his head frantically, tears free-falling down his cheeks now. There’s some muffled cries that you think sound like no, but the tape traps them and makes him incomprehensible. “Really?” Johnny asks, stepping forward until he reaches Mark and then squatting down in front of him.
“Liar.” Johnny whispers, dragging the syllables out. The point of the knife presses into the boys throat, and while the noise Mark makes is barely audible, you can feel his suffering. There’s a tense moment as Johnny increases the pressure, Mark leaning backwards as far as he can to get away, before Johnny pulls it away. Mark exhales strongly, relaxing a little bit. He’s still crying. “It doesn’t matter, though.”
Tears would probably be rolling down your cheeks if you could process what was happening. But shock has taken ahold of you, and you can only watch helplessly as Johnny turns to glance back at you. “Thanks to y/n, now you’ll never get the chance to tell anyone.”
Johnny whips back around in record speed and slices the knife right through Mark’s throat.
A scream leaves you and you fall forward, unable to do anything but watch in horror as the line in Mark’s neck wells with blood, the poor boy convulsing in horror. A wretched gurgling noise leaves him as he chokes and frantically gasps for air, made even worse by the duct tape over his mouth. Johnny sets the knife down delicately and uses that hand to pinch his fingers over Mark’s nose, effectively shutting off his air-flow. The fight drains out of Mark’s body along with his life, and it’s just a few more seconds before he stills completely.
You can’t think of anything to say, can just gape at Mark’s body as Johnny lets go of him and the boy hits the floor. Johnny turns to you next, picking the knife back up.
“It’s a shame you’re always so curious, y/n.” Johnny sighs, shaking his head. “You’re my best friend, I’m going to miss you.”
There’s the faintest breeze against your cheek bone, your hair blowing to tickle the back of your neck. You try your best not to shiver when it starts blowing against your wrists. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s not a draft from an open window, but it’s Jungwoo. He’s not visible, probably because he’s focusing his energy on freeing you. If Johnny notices anything wrong, he doesn’t say anything. Your wrists aren’t free yet, but you can feel the rope loosening. If you can buy yourself some more time…
“Why are you doing this? Why did you kill Jungwoo in the first place?” Your question obviously catches Johnny off guard and he stops walking, glancing off to the side and sighing softly. He seems to have an internal debate but then he shrugs, settling down on the floor across from you. It calms you a little to have him seated instead of looming over you, and you try your best to stay absolutely still.
When Johnny speaks, there’s a hint of regret in his voice. It’s hard to tell if it’s manufactured or not. “Jungwoo and I were best friends. We always had each others backs, always told each other everything. Ride or dies.” His eyes lower to his knife and he smears the blood around the blade with his thumb. “I was the one who hit the girl. I was drunk and it was stupid, but when I called Jungwoo to help me get rid of the body, he refused. He wanted to call the police, y/n. The police.” His eyes are brimming with tears now, and he looks up at you with an urgency that tells you to believe him. You don’t of course, and you can’t tell if he’s trying to convince you of his innocence, or himself. “My own best friend wanted to turn me in, y/n. I couldn’t let him do it.”
“How did you even get into my basement?”
“You were at a training retreat in the mountains for that job you ended up hating that weekend. I knew that your house was empty and where the spare key was, plus I knew that no one ever went into your basement.” Johnny shrugs. “His body’s in the backyard, in case you were wondering. Buried him under the dahlias.” The red dahlias, your mothers favorite plant. How many times had she gone out to water and tend to the flowers, unknowing of the poor boy who lay beneath? Your breath catches in your throat and you finally can feel tears pricking the back of your eyelids.
“You’re sick.” The sentence is barely above a whisper, but it carries enough weight with it. Johnny’s entire demeanor changes, his face twisting into an ugly scowl.
“I’m sick? I’m not the one that was going to betray my best friend by letting him rot in jail! How fucking dare you.” The ropes fall off of your wrists and you grab onto them to prevent them from hitting the ground and alerting Johnny. All that’s left is the rope on your ankle, and then you can make your move. “Yeah? Aren’t you betraying your best friend right now? Just like you did last time?” “I should’ve used the duct tape on you.” He murmurs, tightening his hold on the knife.
There’s enough give in the ropes that you can wiggle your ankles. You just need a few more seconds. “Why didn’t you?” “Ran out.” Johnny breathes, lunging at you. You squeak and roll to the side, groaning when your legs refuse to function. Sitting on them for so long made them feel like jelly and they tingle as the blood rushes back to your limbs. “What the- you little bitch.”
Johnny attacks again and you dodge yet again, doing nothing but rolling around and avoiding him. You definitely can’t beat him in a physical fight, but you can probably beat him in other ways.
Johnny’s breath catches in his throat. “J-Jungwoo?” He stops moving, obviously trying to process how someone who is clearly dead can stand in front of him. Unfortunately, his body doesn’t quite get the memo, and he trips over Mark’s form. A sickly thud resonates through the room as he falls, followed by a deafening silence.
When Johnny doesn’t move for a few seconds, you step closer to examine him. The first thing you notice is that there’s a little stain under his chest that’s steadily getting bigger, contrasting starkly against the wooden floor. The second thing you notice is the acrid stench of blood, too strong for the small room you’re in. Third is the tip of the blade sticking out of his back. After checking his pulse and finding nothing, you roll him over. You find the hilt of his knife sticking out of his chest and your breath catches in your throat. He must’ve landed on it when he tripped. You slump against the wall and try to catch your breath, staring at Johnny’s limp body and waiting for him to lunge at you.
He never does. You look up to say thank you to Jungwoo, but you don’t get a chance. He looks right at his brother’s limp body and disappears, leaving you alone in the room.
You sleep as much as you can, hoping that Jungwoo will pop up in your dreams again. You cry when you sleep and you cry when you wake, until you get to the point where your eyes burn and your face swells and you can’t physically cry anymore. You cry until you’re exhausted and yet you can’t sleep, can only frustratingly toss and turn and scream silently through your raw throat, praying to a god that you don’t believe in to let you see Jungwoo, just one more time. That’s all you need. Just one more time to say goodbye.
Promises are mumbled into your pillow and chanted in your mind but there’s only so much you can do to keep them. You swear to never forget Jungwoo but the words are meaningless and do nothing to stop his face from fading. Slowly, his features become less clear in your mind, his laugh blending with countless others until you can’t differentiate them. You get him a proper grave in a cemetery, and you go from visiting his grave every day to going every few days, until weeks pass before you remember you wanted to leave flowers for him. The flowers last even less than your promises, wilting and rotting on the stone, becoming a sadly unrecognizable mess. You do your best to clean it, and you cry so hard the first time you see the mess that you almost black out, but it’s now a sight that doesn’t even phase you.
Time doesn’t stop to wait for you. It’s not long before you finish grad school and get a job offer in a city 1500 miles away, much different from this one. Your sister drives down to help you pack, easily helping you throw things that you need into a suitcase and counteracting your hoarding tendencies. Something catches your eye just as you’re leaving and you pick it up, frowning at the little resin flower.
“What’s that?” your sister asks, leaning in over your shoulder. “Is that a dahlia?”
“I don’t know.” you furrow your eyebrows, trying to place why it seems so familiar, before shrugging. It makes a hollow sound when you toss it into the trash that seems to echo much too loud for such a tiny object.
She heaves your suitcase into your arms. “Ready?”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
You don’t look back.
#jungwoo fic#nct fic#jungwoo smut#nct smut#nct angst#kim jungwoo angst#nct 127 angst#nct 127 smut#jungwoo angst#nct 127 fic#kpop smut#kpop fic#kpop angst#nct: almost
360 notes
·
View notes
Text
Warning: includes smut
Pairing: Jensen/Misha
Words: ~2,8k
Unbeta'd (and I'm sleep deprived so, sorry for any mistakes)
He dropped the script onto the table and leaned back on the couch in his trailer, covering his face with both hands. Slowly, he took a deep breath, already planning how to escape, he didn't even like the guy that much,- at least he felt this way, according to Daneel, he was head over heels for him- but suddenly, there was a quiet knock on the door.
Jensen stared at the script in front of him, not sure what to think. His jaw was hanging open and his eyes widened more and more with every sentence he'd read. They couldn't be serious, could they? A little bit more than one Season with Misha, and now he was supposed to kiss him?
"It's open," he said, loud enough for whoever was out there to be audible, before he grabbed his beer and took a long sip. As always, he was expecting Jared, but when the door opened and he heard no footsteps, he turned his head, just to see Misha standing there.
"Hey… uh, guess you've seen the script?"
Misha nodded to the script on the table, the page with the kissing scene still visible. Jensen groaned and leaned back again, his head dropping against the couch.
"Yeah, yeah, I've seen it."
Silence filled the trailer after that, long enough that Jensen raised his head again to look at Misha. This was the first time the other man was in his trailer, and even though he didn't like the guy,- he didn't, thank you very much- he managed a small smile and a nod to the other side of the couch.
"Come on in, you wanna drink something?"
"I don't want to interrupt you, I just wanted to tell you that if you don't want to do it, it's fine. We can talk to the crew."
Jensen stared for some seconds, tried to find out if the older man was joking, but all he could see was a genuine offering, so he shook his head before he could even think about it.
"Nah it's fine, it's just a kiss, right?"
With a nervous laughter, Jensen stood up and walked over to Misha, just to push him into the direction of the couch, while he closed the door.
"So, what do you want? I have water, orange juice, beer-"
"A beer would be nice, thanks."
With a nod, Jensen disappeared into the kitchen. As soon as he was sure Misha couldn't see him anymore, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. What the fuck was he thinking? He could've gotten out so easily, and yet, he didn't jump at the chance. Shaking his head, he opened the fridge and grabbed the beer, before he headed back to the living room, dropping down on the other end of the couch.
"So…"
"Do you wanna, you know, try it? Before, I mean, not right now. Just so you're sure you can do it."
Misha took the beer and raised an eyebrow, which made Jensen's stomach flip in a funny way, but he was sure that it was just because he hasn't had dinner yet, no other reason.
"You mean, the uh…"
"The kiss, yes."
"I don't know man, maybe? To be honest, I've never kissed another dude before."
Again, silence filled the room, and Misha didn't move a single muscle, he was just looking at Jensen, but the younger man had to look away, because all this staring made his cheeks go pink.
"I have. It's not that different from kissing a woman," Misha answered after a while, and even though Jensen was staring at the wall, he could still feel the other man's gaze on him. Slowly he turned his head, his eyes wide.
"You have?" he asked, now actually curious.
"Yes. Actually, I did it quite often already."
A small smile appeared on Misha's lips, and Jensen couldn't help but smile back.
"For a role? I mean even if it wasn't for a role, I'm cool with it, I'm just, uh… curious, I guess."
Misha's smile grew wider as he leaned back, turning his body a bit so that he could look at Jensen properly. Slowly, he took a long sip of his beer, his eyes on the younger man the whole time, before he finally answered.
"No, not for a role. You really haven't noticed yet that I don't like women only, have you?"
Jensen's face turned dark red in a second, and he had to look down to breathe, not even sure why.
"No, I- I mean, you're… you're weird, but… not- not in a bad way, I mean. Cool, but… weird. I dunno."
Misha sighed then, before a soft chuckle escaped his mouth. Jensen watched as he shook his head, and somehow he couldn't tear his gaze away.
"Yeah, I've been told," Misha mumbled, before he sat up straight again and nodded to the script.
"So, you're actually okay with that. I'd understand if you weren't, especially after what I've just told you."
"No, yeah, I'm fine with it. We could… rehearse the lines if you wanna?"
Jensen couldn't hide his grin when he saw Misha's expression change from controlled to totally shocked, followed by laughter.
"Sure, with out without-"
"With the kiss."
The younger man's mouth was faster than his brain, and he slapped himself internally. On the other hand, a little practice would be great, right? That way, he had no reason to be nervous on set, because he'd already know how it felt.
"Okay then."
Misha picked up the script and read over the lines a few times, before he handed it to Jensen. As soon as their fingers touched, Jensen's mouth went dry and he quickly lowered his head to look at the script. They were actually doing this, shit. He read his own lines a few times, some endverse bullshit,- actually, the script was quite good- and nodded after, while taking a deep breath.
"Okay, I'm ready."
Misha just nodded and stared at him, raising an eyebrow after some moments.
"Your turn," he said, a smile appearing on his lips, but disappearing again almost immediately as he slipped into Castiel's character.
"Oh, uh, sorry."
Jensen looked at the script again, took another deep breath and started to talk. His voice was a bit off, but it was enough for the rehearsal, so he kept going. They delivered their lines back and forth, both of them perfectly. Jensen was surprised about how great it felt to work with someone who didn't fuck their lines up every five minutes, but felt bad immediately, thinking like that. The closer they came to the kissing scene, the closer Misha moved, until their legs were touching. Jensen knew that he'd have to make the move, and even though he tried to stay calm, his heartbeat picked up and his hands began to shake a little.
"...Jensen."
"Huh?"
"You're supposed to kiss me now."
"Oh, right, yeah. Sorry, blacked out for a second."
They just stared at each other then, neither moving a single muscle. Jensen wanted to do it, wanted to push himself to just lean forward and do this shit, but his body felt heavy and he couldn't bring himself to do it.
"We don't have to if you don't want to."
Misha looked at him, eyebrows drawn together, and Jensen couldn't help but think that his worried expression seemed genuine. His gaze dropped to the other man's lips, just in time to see his tongue darting out to wet them. Apparently, this was all Jensen needed, because with a sudden move, he leaned forward and caught the other man's lips with his own. It was a chaste kiss, closed mouths and dry lips, but still, Jensen couldn't hold back the shiver that rushed through his whole body.
Misha sat completely still, didn't even move his lips, waiting for Jensen to get used to it. As Jensen lifted his hand to cup the other man's cheek and started to move his lips, just a little, Misha kissed back, just as hesitant. A whimper escaped the younger man then, quiet, but still there, and he leaned even closer, while he deepened the kiss. As soon as Jensen stopped thinking, he could feel his lips burning, his skin tingling, his heart racing. He could feel every single movement the other man made, taking in his unique smell.
Misha was the one who ended the kiss, slowly pushing Jensen back, but just a little.
"That uh, was good," Misha mumbled, but his voice didn't sound normal, no, he almost sounded like Castiel by now. As soon as Jensen opened his eyes,- he didn't close them on purpose, okay, it just happened- his gaze landed on Misha's lips once again, which were dark red by now and a little swollen.
He wasn't able to speak, wasn't even able to breathe anymore, all he could think of was the feeling of Misha's lips pressed against his. He couldn't stop staring, and even though he knew the other man was talking, could see how his lips were moving, he wasn't able to hear the words. His mind was spinning and his body was aching for more, and even though he'd never thought about Misha like that before, it was the only goddamn thing he could think about now.
"W-what?" he croaked out, but his voice was way too hoarse, his throat felt way too dry.
Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder, warm and firm, and Jensen raised his head, just to drown in a deep, endless sea of blue.
"I asked if you're okay," Misha said, his voice still a little hoarse, but he definitely sounded much calmer than Jensen felt.
"I'm, uh… y-yeah, I'm…"
Right in that moment, the older man licked his lips once again and Jensen's breath was caught in his throat all of a sudden. Without any further warning, he surged forward again, capturing Misha's lips once more, but this time, it was different. It wasn't chaste or innocent, no, it was heated and full of want. Misha made a surprised noise, followed by a gasp, and Jensen used the chance to trace the other man's bottom lip with his tongue, teasing it just a little.
It was Misha's time to whimper when his back hit the couch and Jensen landed right on top of him. Jensen didn't even notice at first, but when he tried to move to get more comfortable, he was held in a tight grip by Misha's legs, which made him groan quietly. He could feel something growing in his pants, but he was too far gone to care, or even to think about what that meant. All he knew was that kissing Misha was one of the hottest experiences he's had in a while, and he sure as hell wouldn't just stop, not if Misha was okay with it, too.
Jensen let his hand trail down from Misha's cheek to his neck, brushing his fingers over the soft skin there, and he couldn't hold back his grin when the other man shivered beneath him. What made his smile drop immediately though, was Misha rolling his hips just a little. When he felt that the older one was hard as well, a full on moan escaped Jensen and he pushed back with his hips, until their lengths aligned. Misha's hands found its way into his hair and tugged gently, which made Jensen pull his head back just a little. He took a deep breath, his eyes still closed, but he was more than aware of the soft rumble of Misha's voice.
"You okay?"
Jensen didn't open his eyes, but he could hear the concern in Misha's voice, which was all he needed. Before he leaned down to kiss the other man again, he nodded shortly, a smile lifting up the corners of his mouth just a little.
When their lips met again, it was even better than before. It wasn't as desperate anymore, but still just as intimate. With slow movements, Jensen explored the other man's mouth, first he was tracing his lightly chapped lips with his tongue, waiting for Misha to open up, before he pushed his tongue inside carefully. As soon as their tongues met for the first time, Jensen couldn't hold back another moan, but Misha wasn't better, because he immediately thrust his hips up. Just then, Jensen noticed that he was moving his hips steadily, thrusting against Misha like a horny teenager, but even that didn't bother him. He could feel heat coiling low in his stomach, growing bigger and bigger by the second.
"Mish, I-"
Another moan broke out of him when Misha grabbed his ass. His grip was firm and maybe even a little too hard, but in this situation, Jensen couldn't imagine anything better. His hips stuttered and he leaned against Misha's shoulder with his forehead, but the other man pushed him back.
"Wanna see you, Jensen," he rasped, and hearing his name like that, hoarse and deep, pushed Jensen over the edge and he came with a cry. His dick was shooting load after load into his pants, but he couldn't care less, because this was definitely the hardest he came in a long time. His whole body spasmed with every thrust, and he started to see stars, but he desperately tried to keep his eyes open. Misha came not long after, looking right into Jensen's eyes the whole time, while his jaw went slack and a dark, rough rumble vibrated through his chest and out of his throat.
When the last waves of pleasure faded, Jensen couldn't hold his body up anymore and slumped down right where he was, figuring that Misha would say something if he got too heavy. They were lying there like that for a while, panting and slowly coming down, before Jensen was able to move again. With half closed eyes, he lifted his head to look at the other man, but suddenly, his eyes went wide.
"Shit, your- your wife-"
"She knows."
"She- what?"
"Vicki and I share a special relationship, we tell each other when we find someone attractive. I'm more worried about your wife."
Jensen's heartbeat picked up for a second, but when he remembered how happy Daneel sounded when she was trying to convince him to be into Misha, he figured she'd be okay with it.
"She uh- kinda knows too, I think. I uh- still have to talk to her though, we've never- I mean, not that I planned anything like that, but uh-"
"Jensen, it's fine. Talk to her."
Misha lifted his hand and cupped the younger man's cheek, who immediately was leaning into the touch, without even meaning to. His eyes fell shut once again and before he could think about it, he lowered his head and pressed another soft kiss onto Misha's lips. As soon as he moved, he could feel the slowly cooling come in his pants and made a grimace.
"I definitely need a shower. Uh… do you- do you need fresh clothes, or-"
"Don't worry about me, just make sure you're alright."
Misha gave Jensen a soft smile and brushed his thumb over his cheek once, before he pushed him back so he could get up.
"I'll leave you alone for now. I'm sorry, I didn't plan to go that far, I really just wanted to-"
"Hey, Mish, wait a minute. You weren't the one who uh- lost control. T'was on me, so… sorry for that."
Jensen felt how his cheeks heated up once more, but somehow, he felt strangely calm about the whole situation. He'd never thought he'd do something like that with another man, but for now, it didn't bother him.
"Call your wife, Jensen. I'll see you later?"
"Uh, yeah, sure. Hey, I uh- I never asked you for your number…"
Misha chuckled, but shook his head at the same time, while he was walking to the door.
"Call her. I'll see you."
Then, without another word, he left the trailer. Jensen leaned back then, staring at the wall once again, and tried to understand what just happened, but his brain didn't seem capable of working. He also couldn't get rid of the dopey smile that was practically glued to his face, because somehow he knew, this was the start of something new, something good.
He picked up his phone from the table, determined to call Daneel first before he took a shower, but all he could think about for now was that maybe, just maybe, the new guy wasn't that bad after all.
***
Tag list: @sam--ships--it @green-blue-heller @foolsdreamhigh @jmjlover @spnmrvlshrlck @melly-the-crazy-coconut @professorerudite @lulu-zodiac
If you want to get added to the tag list, please let me know, also let me know if you wanna get tagged for Destiel, Cockles, or both 💙😊
#jensen ackles#misha collins#cockles#jenmish#jensen and misha#cockles fanfic#cockles ficlet#cockles fic#JasWrites
111 notes
·
View notes
Note
Grif
For the character ask! Sorry this took me a while, I can't copy and paste on mobile, so I waited till I got on desktop tumblr! Thank you so much for asking about him, I could go on forever lol so this is gonna be fucking LONG. Please, anyone, feel free to ask about any other character, too. These are fun.
Why I like them: Grif is, for lack of a better word, complex. On one hand, it's like, okay he's just a funny comedy character. But on the other hand, he's like every all of my favorite archetypes of a character. He's crafty but stupid, selfish but selfless, antisocial but friendly, the straight man but the dramatic guy, he's snarky but oddly caring: the reluctant hero. It's kind of paradoxical, and I feel like not only do I relate to him, but I just really enjoy him overall. Whether it's because he's a good brother, being a complete dickbag because he doesn't know how to handle emotions, being a complete cynic on the battlefield, or being hyperactive and snappy, it's just... ah. He. Everything in his life just happens, and he has to deal with it, and yeah he'll kick and pout and probably eat everything but in the end, he's gonna choose his family and he cares deeply... even when he can't really show it.
Why I don’t: I see this a lot in myself too - the fact that he's impulsive and inherently negative when he speaks specifically. his words don't match his actions. He often doesn't hesitate when it comes to making negative comments because they are easier than saying something nice, but what his intentions are are completely different. in other words, he's a jerk, lol. Especially in season 15. I know people felt bad for him because he was partially right and went insane on Iris, but he lowkey deserved it. He said he hated his friends, and even his closest friend. He didn't want to admit that he was a good person just because he didn't want to help. yeah, it was valid, but he needs to learn how to make a case without fucking everyone emotionally and being so clammed up. >:/ sometimes it feels like he regresses in character, as much as he's matured. i guess that's realistic and just the writers making comedy, but also the way he handles Doc specifically irks me. so mean spirited for no reason, as funny as it is.
Favorite episode (scene if movie): OH MY GOD, okay, literally, every single episode with Grif starring as a main is fucking gold. I think for this I'm going to say, uh, This One Goes to Eleven. Even though it's not Grif-centric, it's the episode that's my favorite overall because it introduced me to RvB and made me like Grif right away, simply because he was attacked so much and I felt so bad for him. Another great one that sticks out right now in my sleep deprived state, is Grif does a Rescue. Augh. And the episode where Grif and Simmons get stuck underground in the caves.
Favorite season/movie: Season 8 (shotgun!!!, hyperactive ai grif), Season 11 (hanging in the canyon with simmons), Season 4 (the tank and blue simmons w/ grif), Season 5/6 (kai and rat's nest), Season 12/13 (the recruits, grif building the snowmen), Season 14 (backstory with simmons, Room Zero), Season 15 (you know why)
Favorite line: OK, don't make me choose. There are SO many that are good!!! I think one of my most favorite things that Grif says is "yoink!" It's so adorable! I also really enjoy "BLUEEE TEAAAAM SUCKKKKKS" with his epsilon double, the whole "invisible nap" scene, "what are we, on a date?"/"I can tell you what we weren't doing", "no one made me, I made me", "WERE GONNA FUCKING DIE" when charging at the meta, "that's a figure of speech?" [when carolina says im so hungry i could eat a horse is a figure of speech], "dexta grif he who shall not be messed with!"... I'm sure I'm missing a lot, he has SO many snarky funny lines, but these are some off the top of my head.
Favorite outfit: LOL THIS IS SUCH A FUNNY QUESTION BECAUSE THIS IS RVB. HAHAHA. Uh. Season 6 probably. I just like Halo 3 Graphics. Also s14 Room Zero because THEY DREW HIM FAT CANONICALLY. THANK YOU.
OTP: I'm with the majority of people in the fandom who like Grimmons! I think Grimmons is the only ship that I really vocally ship with my whole heart besides OC ships. I just very much enjoy their dynamic -- it's very angsty, dialogue full, intimate yet so unspoken. It's just a really good pair to write about and see the development of through canon. And, not to mention... season 15... hrk...
Brotp: I really REALLY want grif/tucker, grif/church, grif/locus BROTP. SO SO SO BAD. I've always seen grif and tucker as bros, grif and church are HILARIOUS together and we were ROBBED of more time together, and grif and locus are fucking adorable.
Head Canon: I have a lot of headcanons about Grif, but one of my favorite ones is that he has half-lidded eyes, like he's always sleepy. I also headcanon him as bisexual, though I think that is a popular headcanon!
Unpopular opinion: I dunno if I have super unpopular opinions about Grif... maybe that I think that his labryinth wasn't as bad as it seems at first? A lot of people seemed to think that though, yknow. Like if you look deeply into it, it's actually kinda fucked. But I feel like we should have gotten the Hawaii scene anyways. Hm. I also didn't like how they altered the canon so that Grif wasn't drafted. I think it does add something to his char that he chose to go, but I always really liked the aspect that Grif didn't control that, and yet he still did this on purpose. He was good on purpose.
A wish: A badass Grif carchase scene for the love of FUCK. We need to have him drive more stuff !!!!!!!!
An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: Have him betray the reds -- i think every other red has betrayed the team at some point. please god for the love of god dont do this to grif. it really adds and says something about his character that he doesn't ever betray his team.
5 words to best describe them: (eye roll) eh. fuck it.
My nickname for them: this isn't really my nickname, since I mostly just call him grif -- but 'gif'. It's cute, and my QPP came up with it! I also really like dex. augh
#rvb#grif#dexter grif#red vs blue#ask#asks#thank you for this#sorry for the length you just gave me a place to infodump#and i really thank u for this
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
The beach case
Find chapter 7 in AO3.
Chapter 7
She was tremendously small, and, every time our arms accidentally collided while we washed and dried the dishes after eating, I had the feeling that I would push her against some wall, yet she only looked up and gave me the brightest of the smiles.
“Your cell is ringing.”
“Uh?”
“Your phone! Can't you hear it?!”
No, I hadn't heard it. My whole brain was being belonging to that smile for a while.
“Ah! I’m coming!”
I quickly dried my hands and ran to pick up my cell phone without even looking who was calling.
“Hello?”
“Kristoff! You've been slow! Did I catch you at a bad time?”
I didn't like a bit what the mischievous tone of her voice seemed to imply.
“Sam! No, I was just washing the dishes.”
Anna continued drying as if she hadn't heard anything, but it didn't go unnoticed how she slowed down as put all her senses into learning about the ongoing conversation. Inevitably, a silly grin crossed my face.
“What’s up? Is it a work issue?”
“Kinda. I'd like to have a little chat with you this afternoon. It's okay with you at four in my office?”
“I guess I can make an opening, yeah. Why? It is something serious?”
“I'll only say one thing: I've spoken with Cecilia.”
“What?! Why?!”
“You know she adores me as much as I adore her.”
“Hey, Sam…”
“Nope. I have no time right now. We'll talk later. Ciaooooo.”
‘Cecilia, I’m gonna kill you.’
“Everything okay?” Anna asked turning to me when she heard me drop the phone on the table with perhaps a little less care than recommended.
“I dunno. Sam’s talked to Cecilia and wants to talk to me this afternoon.”
Anna's face paled slightly.
“But… did you get to talk to her about whether all this is…?”
“Not yet.”
“I see…”
“Sorry. I don't know if I haven’t put you in trouble”.
“No! Nor in the least. If I have problems I will have looked for them myself. If I hadn't accepted, you wouldn't be here.”
“I'll try to make sure none of this affects you, okay?”
“Hey, whatever the consequences are, they'll be up to both of us.”
No matter how noble her words were, I wasn’t willing to risk her job for lodging. I preferred to sleep on the beach. But... if it was just a lodging matter… why did the idea of leaving make me feel a knot in my stomach? Anyway, there was no use thinking about it anymore. In the afternoon, I would discover the truth.
Somewhat uneasy about what was to come, I hurried to get ready for the meeting and arrived a little early. A time that, of course, I had to spend waiting at her door because Samantha is never free.
“Hey, boss. You don't look well,” Olaf said friendly clapping on my back with a smile that made me tense even more. “Were you sleep-deprived last night?”
‘I knew it. Maybe his lips are sealed, but, in the meantime, he is going to make sure to torture us as much as he can.’
“Do not worry, Olaf. I had an excellent night.”
Maybe I didn't choose the best words.
“I bet you did.”
A brief laugh later, Olaf continued on his way and Samantha's door opened to let out a woman who smiled politely at me and gave way.
“Hey, Sam. What is this all about?”
“Easy, blondie. Take a seat.”
I took a deep breath and sat down as I was told.
“I'm sorry. I didn't intend to speak to you like that.”
“So… are you in love?”
“What?”
“The redhead. Anna, right? Your sister has seen it quite clearly; she says that you have a huge crush on her; that you are her puppy.”
“Puppy?”
“Yeah, I don't know what correspondence to a story she wrote for the magazine.”
“Oh… so that was it.”
“So, you admit it?”
“I'm not in love, okay? She just… seems to me a very capable and intelligent woman, funny, attentive, sweet, weird to an unimaginable point, cheerful, optimistic… And gorgeous.”
“Wow… It is more serious than I thought.”
“It is not serious. It is nothing. There is nothing between us. She is only allowing me to live in her apartment while I find something else.”
“Are you looking for something else?”
“Uh… well… I've been really busy lately, you know.”
“Sure…”
So that's how things were, huh?
“Well,” she said taking a sip of the coffee that always kept her ongoing the whole day. “I suppose it is my duty to inform you that company policy does not prohibit extra-work relationships between colleagues of the same rank, buuuut…”
“But I am her superior.”
“Exactly. A relationship between superior and subordinate could lead to special treatment that cannot be consented to.”
“But I wouldn’t…!”
“I know. I know you. You are a great professional and you wouldn't get carried away that way. However, the rules are what they are.”
“Got it.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“Obviously, leave her house and get away from her. I'm not willing to make her lose her job: she loves it.”
“That's just what I wanted to hear.”
“Oh, yeah? Good for you.”
“Knowing that… I have no choice but to tell you that I really enjoyed talking with your little sister about the hot bricklayer that you have as a roommate. Too bad he's not a sweet young lady instead, don't you think?”
“Sam?”
“I can turn a blind eye, but be very careful with Yelena. She wouldn't let a beautiful love story jeopardize her magazine.”
“Sam, I…”
“And, now, get out of here! Don't you see I'm busy?”
“You are the best friend ever.”
I gave Samantha a quick hug and turned to the door, ready to leave her with her busy schedule.
“You know she likes you, don't you?”
“At least, I think she doesn't dislike me.”
“I knew it… You’ve always been sooo slow… Cecilia told me the face she had when she saw her and how she left hurt. You didn't even notice, did you? Little angel...”
“She… You think so?”
“Get out of my sight at once, moron!”
I dodged the paper ball that Sam threw straight at my face and left her office with a strange feeling of vulnerability and determination mixed within me.
By the time I got home that afternoon, Anna was on the couch in a huge hoodie, eating popcorn, and watching Wall-E. Hearing me come in, she paused the movie, looked at me with an uncertain smile, and patted the sofa inviting me to sit next to her. I obeyed and gave her a resigned smile.
“So I really am your pet, aren't I?”
“What? What was that?”
“It was nothing. I've already talked to Sam.”
“And?”
“As you well supposed, any extra-work relationship is prohibited between employees of different ranks.”
The popcorn that was waiting in her hand to be eaten, fell on the couch accompanied by a tear.
“Anna?”
“Oh, God! I’m so sorry! Don't worry about me! It's just that I got sensitive with the movie, you know?”
I nodded not wanting to uncover her poor lie.
“And… what do you plan to do, then?” she asked fixing those huge beautiful blue eyes into mine.
“Well…”
I stared into that look without quite believing what I was about to say.
“If…, and only if, you agree with that… I think the time has come for me to break some rule.”
#collaborated project#kristanna#fanfic#anna#kristoff#frozen#disney#with @annaofthenorthernlights#frozen modern au#roll with it#the beach case
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
The only thing I can imagine i have done was talk about Aloïde and luke growing up together but that was long after the conversation of Aloïde and Luke even existed, and even still we never elaborated or went further than “maybe he gets his wings and he finally gets to go flying WITH HER instead of being carried like a toddler” which I thought was cute and funny.
So I’m not a creep?
The CEO of Racism joke is because of tired typing coming out to accidentally look... well.... you know. But it’s not genuine hatred. It’s typos made while sleep deprived that I have made little jabs at because I am among friends. (AND CONSTANT STRANGERS MIND YOU SO THIS ISNT A MATTER OF “oh he does this because hes in a private space with friends so we can’t trust him” NO)
So I’m not r*cist.
I’m literally trans and have gotten so understandably aggravated by the slightest mention of transphobia and I adore and support trans people. I’m still new to my own identity and I don’t plan to be perfect with it. I don’t plan to claim I am. I am, despite what everyone would think, a very clumsy person. But I do my research where it counts. I face my struggles at home, and I’m sure to apologize if I offend someone.
But I don’t apologize to ghosts. I can’t say sorry to you if I didn’t know I upset you. And you going around with secrets, rubbing your hands together thinking you got the next juicy topic and this is going to turns o many heads is very childish and goofy. Why not talk to me? Or Mint? Or anyone else in the server? If you can’t talk publicly, DMing us is recommended. I wouldn’t get snappy with someone who is only trying to tell me I’ve upset them. Sure I’ve been heated in the vent channel but that’s just how I blow off steam. After literally... anything that happens. No one asked or cares, but I have anger issues. And this is how I cope lol.
So unless you’re willing to talk, then I just... dunno what to say? Or apologize for. 🤷🏾
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just Save One
A nightmare wakes up the Reader. Dean helps them talk through what’s on their mind.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (no gender specified)
Warnings/Promises: nightmare, morning fluff, characters actually talking about things!, tw depression-like vibes, more fluff, food mention
Word Count: 930
Note: While I frequently do and don’t recommend writing while sleep deprived, sometimes that’s the best way to kick the junk out of your head. The only thing that belongs in your mind is you. Not the worries, not the fear. You. Your light, your hope, your plans for the future, no matter how short or long term they may be. Had to get this out. My world is about to change and I’m a little stressed. Hopefully this might help you too. Enjoy.
With that, you walked into the rain and never looked back.
That was the last time anyone saw you.
***
At least, anyone from your family.
Dean tightened his arm around your waist as you startled awake. “ ‘S okay,’ he mumbled. “Safe. Home. Bunker.”
While your heart raced in your chest, you worked on slowing your breathing. It didn’t matter how long you hunted with the Winchesters, or how many horrors you saw. The first monster you met was the most memorable. Life changing. Funny thing about memories. They forget the things you want and need to remember, and remember the things you’d rather forget.
Comfort eased back into your spine as Dean rubbed his thumb up and down on your stomach. “Sleep?”
“Probably not.”
He rolled on his back, cracking one eye to look at the clock on his nightstand. “Is there ever going to be a morning where you don’t wake up ten minutes before Sam busts in here with a case?”
A smile cracked across your face. “Would you rather he burst in here while you’re still asleep?” You turned to face him. “Didn’t you fall off the bed the last time he did that?” You bit your lip to keep from grinning at his glare. The turmoil still twisting in your stomach made you gasp. You leaned into Dean’s hand as he smoothed it across your cheek.
“Which one?”
“The first one. It’s always the first one.” Biting your lip again, you curled deeper into his chest. Sleep deprived and feeling your pain, his chest didn’t inflate as much as it usually did. But the slow rise and fall of it, combined with the tiny puffs of Dean’s breath against your hair, slowly pushed the nightmare out of your mind.
“You know you did everything you could.” His eyes were bright. Awake and clear when you looked at him. “None of it is your fault.”
“I know. It’s just- it’s- Do you ever lose that sense that this is all worth it? The loss, the sacrifice. I feel like every case we take, every monster we take out, it’s just me trying to make up for the times when I failed. Which has been plenty.”
Silence stretched between you.
Dean exhaled deeply. “Yes.”
You dipped your head, hopping to hide the icy tear under your eyelid. He slid in close enough to almost touch your noses together.
“Yeah, I lose hope every once in a while. But that’s why we gotta keep going. This life… we didn’t choose it. And it’s hard. Sometimes it feels like there are more losses than wins. But then… we save someone. They get to live their life. Maybe a little bit wiser of what’s out there in the dark, but life goes on. And each life we save is more than one. Because then they save people. Maybe not from monsters, but from whatever else Chuck throws at them. Bad days and nine to five jobs, and flat tires. We keep alive people who can smile and make each other laugh, and keep a spare in their trunk.” He took your hand, giving it a squeeze.
Your throat hurt. “What if that’s- if that’s not enough? What if I don’t feel enough?” Part of you was scared that you’d break Dean’s fingers, squeezing back so hard. But he never made a peep of pain.
“You know that’s okay, right?” Nosing you to look at him, he added, “it’s okay to be scared. I’m telling you: you are enough. It’s been a tough several months. But we’re gonna make it. I promise.”
He rested his forehead on yours, letting you cry in soft gasps and hiccups. His strong grip and even breathing eventually brought you back down from the terrified high you’d woken up with. When you’d recovered, he kissed the tip of your nose. Then he glanced at the door with a glare.
“Sam should have interrupted our moment by now.”
Like magic, a slip of paper slid under the door.
Chuckling, Dean wiped a stray from your tear and retrieved it. “Sick. Find your own case,” he read. He slipped back under the covers with you. “I dunno. I feel like I need a few days to recharge. Unless you want to find a case.” His green eyes glowed with whatever energy you needed. “Wouldn’t take much.”
Silently you shook your head.
He nodded. “Probably right. Hey, how about this: save Sam. He’ll drink himself into a spinach smoothie coma if we leave.”
That made you giggle. “Sounds good. Someone’s gotta keep him stocked on organic fruits. Can’t have him contaminating the farmer’s market.”
Dean scrunched up his nose. “Fine. You’re on fruit duty. I’ll do laundry… and keep us stocked with bacon.”
“Hmm, bacon and laundry.” You kissed him deeply. “You are a catch.”
He kissed back. Then murmured against your lips, “think Sam will heal faster if we have wild, loud sex?”
You slapped his shoulder and laughed. “Get dressed, laundry boy. We’ve got a sick patient to save.”
***
[[We’ve all got a little “want to save the world” in us. If you can save just one person in your lifetime, it’s okay if the one person is you. Take care of yourselves. If Supernatural has taught us anything, it’s that the Apocalypse doesn’t last forever. No matter how many of them hit. Find a small moment to thrive in the chaos. Start a new Pinterest board. Dethrone the government. Read that book that’s been sitting on your shelf for an eternity. Do whatever will save you.
We can do this.]]
***
Masterlist
Forever Tags: @blondekel77 @brianaraydean @chwehansol98 @fireflyfunhousetrash @laochbaineann @ramblingsofabourbondrinker @savmontreal @shieldgirl18 @tinyelfperson @writtingrose @xladyxfatex @gold--gucciempress
Supernatural Tags: @emoryhemsworth @quixoticcat @smandrews3 @supernatural-jackles @tamtamlov @vvinch3st3r
Dean Winchester Tags: @19mmallory @akshi8278 @ashmonet @bits-n-bowz @bringmesomepie56 @castielsbecky @cookie-dough-lova @dancingalone21 @gabbyrogers094 @idontknow-canyou @its--killing--me @juanitadiann @kaemarie23 @kittenofdoomage @lauriz67 @millie67 @mrspeacem1nusone @mylostsoul28 @peaceloveandplumbots @releitable @sassy-losechester @sissysalvatore @theriumking @uzum4k1-uch1h4 @vutdidyousay @windeango67
#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester angst#Supernatural Fan Fiction#supernatural fluff#supernatural angst#winchester fluff#winchester angst#food mention
62 notes
·
View notes