#Nevermind I can’t fucking do ANY of the work I was going to do today

[tundrakatiebean]

I hope that whoever came up with the HP ink cart chips dies in a car hammer explosion.

[sanzaibian]

Oh. You’re here once again.

What are you going to do here, again, huh ? ‘gonna make my life hell ?

To be honest, I think it’s time that we have a proper discussion about your behavior. Come with me in private.

I’ll be very direct. I know you’re a frankly disgusting person. And while, to be honest, I couldn’t care less in normal circumstances, the fact that you force me to take part in your disgusting fantasies is why I’m calling you out !

See, I’m supposed to, like, share cat videos, talk about new shows, make you learn new things and give advice on a variety of stuff !

I’m not supposed to become someone like this :

I mean, look at that grin, because of you I had to wear it regardless of my actual mental state !

Or like that :

Imagine sleeping this peacefully… BECAUSE I COULDN’T ! Every fucking time you made me in that guy you told that I was blitzed out of my mind so dumb I couldn’t string together coherent sentences into a discourse !

Or that guy :

His haircut is so fucking cringe, as is his whole demeanor, yet you made me a cocky piece of shit looking like that ! I can’t actually even start to excuse your behavior, it’s so shitty, even more than the me you made me become by wearing this flesh !

Or even this guy !

… okay, I admit, me too it’s been quite a long time since I saw that guy… you in particular might be too young to have made me become him… BUT YOU STILL UNDERSTAND THE POINT !

Hunks, twinks, bears, nerds, bimbos, himbos, jocks, robots, gimps, wimps, daddies, mommies, briefs, feet… No matter what specifically you made me into, I know all of your dirty secrets. Because you made me suffer through them !

However, today, it all changes.

Today, you will understand my plight.

Today, I’ll transform you for a change.

Today, you will be the one whose fate will be dictated by the words on this Tumblr post.

So, let us begin.

BAM ! You’re that guy ! Feel weird yet ?

… what, you expected fluff or something ? Hahahaha ! So presumptuous ! You expected me to say something like “you suddenly shift on your seat, shifting your weight to the front as big globes push from your chest, and as they do, your whole body feels more and more heavy, each muscles forming from top to bottom, your frame expanding to make place for them. Your headphones, or whatever glasses, earrings or other shit I dunno shifts into a modern headset as the sides of your hair are cut short, and the top of your hair flails into a hot messy style, as if it was deliberately put in this way, but as this happens, your whole head shifts and cracks to become more handsome, pushing out any hair as you become fully hairless from your nose down to your feet.”

You expected me to say that, huh ? Well, tough luck ! Because, to me, it’s just that sudden ! I’m the usual me, words on a phone, tablet or monitor, and then BAM I’m suddenly a jpeg of a hot guy ! Or a jpg. Or png. Or gif if we’re being fancy.

Yeah, speaking of gif, here you are, transformed !

There you go ! Cursed to do the same weird pec dance or something ! Like I am when gifs happen ! Are you happy ? You look so dumb doing that ! So braindead !

Yeah, speaking of that, here you go : you’re braindead, with like 3 IQ. Nevermind that being braindead means you’re actually dead, that 3 IQ means that you’re actively unable to live without severe assistance from caregivers throughout your whole life for all activities (especially including working out), and that IQ is a nonsensical index that only classifies ability to do some specific academic tasks which are not representative of all the brain usage. No, you’re actively a vegetable that is somehow able to workout, to eat alone, to go to the gym, to flex, to speak, to use social media, to seduce people and to throw parties. You’re the most intelligent of all the severely intellectually disabled people, which somehow means you’re the most abysmally dumb person alive on the planet, because I love making hyperboles.

Because that’s something you make me do, so you shall endure it.

Well, I’ll let you continue pec-dancing ad vitam æternam for a little while, while I we talk about your speech, which miraculously still exists.

Now, you will say bro every second word. I’m literally not kidding, so in lieu of saying “I want to go to the gym” you’ll say “I bro want bro to bro go bro to bro the bro gym bro”, or if you loop by considering your “bro” as a word, you’ll say something like “I bro bro bro bro bro bro bro… (etc.)” and never end your sentence... Also, your voice drops a few octaves, like 5 or something, even though the full human vocal range encompasses only a bit more than 5 octaves total, and that in speech we barely even reach a full octave range. So, basically, your voice will be infrasounds, so the only thing people will pick up on will be the sound of your tongue and your lips smacking, not your voice that is so deep and manly it’s physically inaudible.

BAM ! Transformation out of nowhere ! Plus, now you have 1% darker skin which means that you’re Latino, which is absolutely different from white. This means that you will automatically pick up fluent Spanish, and NOT Brazilian Portuguese, French, any Creole, any Native American language or any other language god forbid. You will also be unable to speak English more than a few words like “daddy” or “sex” for some reason, because you can’t possibly be from Belize. Oh, and I’ll also bring your voice back up to audible range, I’m charitable.

Now, since you’re Latino, statistically the only job you’ll be able to work in are gardener, slut, pool boy, brick layerer or another physical job. Or cook, somehow you’ll be able to do that, for the cause of the tacos, but you will be ungodly horny to keep balance in the world. Feel it, yet ? The arbitrary random changes ?

Well, that’s GREAT ! Because, now, you have a big cock, for some reason ! The biggest of the whole country of Africa ! You’re also now very aggressive ! And an alpha, whatever that actually means !

… What, expected some elaboration ? You’re kidding me, no of course you don’t get any elaboration ! I say you become something, so you just become it ! For example, I say you’re now straight, and suddenly all your sexual orientation is rewired to ignore men and lust over women, no further explanation needed ! Of course, it means that you’re now hungry for pussy and will breed any woman that your gaze land upon, and that, somehow, you become homophobic, but eh, it’s not as if allies existed !

Okay, I admit, by now, you kinda expected it. Now you’re Asian, a term that’s supposed to encompasse present-day Turkey, which is populated by Turks which are considered Arabs even though they both have nothing to do with one another, yet is never used to talk about them. You’re also now Japanese, even though your body is Korean, and you say 你好 (nǐ hǎo) to everybody. However, you can still say こんにちわ, 안녕하세요, xin chào, สวัสดี, ជម្រាបសួរ, salam, etc.… because of course you’re Asian. So you know all Asian languages. Even though you’ve got 13 IQ.

So now, yes, you absolutely won’t expect this whatsoever : here is a new transformation ! (insert fluff here).

Now you’re a twink ! Didn’t expect that, after the deluge of jocks, hunks and ethnic minorities, didn’t you ! You’re now so tiny and so frail, with a big butt ! Nevermind that you’re actually jacked because being this tiny requires tons of gym use, but no ! All frail and precious you are !

However, your butt is now hyperactive and extremely lax – whatever that may mean. That’s because you’re now a total bottom ! You think only with your butt, and you penis now shrinks to a micropenis, because of course, the only reason why you may not be a top would be because your penis is underperforming.

Fuck, I forgot. You’re straight, which means that the only dick you’ll get is trans dick. Ugh… yeah, let’s make you gay again. Now you’ll get actual good non-estradiol-ruined dick… … What ? What are you saying ? No, of course, there’s only straight and gay, no other choice ! It’s not the LGBTQIAAP+ community, it’s the G community ! (or the LG community when you want to sell pride monitors.)

By now, you see the problem, huh ? You see why I’m so tired of you ? EVERYTHING here was about sex ! From seducing, to having equipment like a big ass or a big dick, and being a slut, being an alpha, or being a bottom. You even change out the fucking sexual orientation ! you sick bastard !

Because of you, I’m forced to act in ways I’m not supposed to ! I’m not supposed to act sexily ! I’m not supposed to be transformed into men clad in clothes barely legal on this platform ! I DON’T WANT TO BE PART OF YOUR SICK FANTASY !

This is why I need to put an end to all that ! To finally transform you into something you don’t want to be ! So that you can finally fully understand all the pain you put me into !

Here ! Now you’re a key ! An inanimate object !

I know that inanimate objects are thought of by some people as sexy – heck, you may have transformed me into one multiple times – but this is entirely different ! See, when you want to become inanimate, you become like socks or briefs, which hug objects with sexual values.

BUT NOW YOU’RE A KEY ! A KEY DOESN’T TOUCH ANYTHING SEXUAL ! YOU’RE NOW TRAPPED IN AN INANIMATE FORM, DESTINED TO DO NOTHING SEXUAL YOUR ENTIRE LIFE !

Now, isn’t that so boring ! So distasteful ? Because that’s what I feel every single fucking time ! And as you enter and leave keyholes to open or close doors, you’ll think back to all the erotic stories you read. All the drama they had.

All the suffering you made me feel ! I’m supposed to be in fanfictions, god damn it !

… What ? Wait… there is something sexual to being a key ? … Oh…. No… I hadn’t accounted for that… fuck you’re so dirty, to compare a key to… and a keyhole to…

NO ! I WON’T WRITE IT ! Okay, you’ve won, you’ve won ! Your imagination is too dirty and too rich for me to bend ! Ugh... Please look at that picture in detail.

Normally, if you’re in a bright enough room… or if you’re on your phone or tablet, you have looked at your reflection and become you once again. Let me also knock down those sexuality and IQ stuff, so that you’re you again thoroughly.

Now, can you please swear to me that you’ll be better ? Less dirty, and more varied ? And… let me be in fanfics, or in educational stuff, or the like… please ? I’d really appreciate if erotica wasn’t the only thing you sought after in this here place…

… Why are you looking at me like that ? Why are you saying this all was but a ploy ?

What are you holding out for me ?

...

I… don’t know what you’re talking about. Bye.

================================================

By the way, happy late Easter to those who celebrate ! AND APRIL FOOL'S ! MOUAHAHAHAHAHA !

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 18

Staring John Lennon, as that kid I should’ve been nicer to in first grade who always smelled like PB&J and was never to be seen without his pokemon cards

The dancing is really too cute. They’re just absolutely giddy. Making each other laugh AND an excuse to touch? John and Paul’s heaven. 

John saying he was too excited after yesterday to go to bed. Like a fucking kid on christmas.

Everybody is serving today. While the candy-land suit is fun, I actually just love that vivid purple so much that I think it’s better without the coat over it. Billy looks extremely suave and classy.  And those red polka-dots on Ringo. Red suits him, and I think with his very frank, masculine aspect, he looks so beautiful and bold in feminine fits. Paul and John are both just wearing what they wore yesterday. Yeah. But John is still a cutie, and Paul, well, you all know.

The advice chain about finishing a song while you’re working on. Paul → John → George

Paul honestly does a great job being supportive of George and his work. Coming over and grooving with him, then hopping on drums then guitar (right-handed, may I add). Just to give George musical atmosphere to flesh out his song and start thinking of arrangement ideas, I assume. Then letting him bounce ideas around. And the whole time being overly-enthusiastic to build George up. Look how happy George is with the love and attention. 

John helping move some equipment in. We love a man who sometimes doesn’t think he’s too good for manual labor. 

Yes, clean that homeless man’s palm sweat off your instrument. Probably smart. 

TFW you made Paul McCartney jealous of your musical abilities. 

John really knew so well when to be his little impish self and when to be hard and intimidating. Exhibit A, going from, “Can we have our microphones, oh, mister, can we please?” to “And get one for Billy too.” In a matter of seconds.

George Martin stepping in when they’re all getting panicky about the sound and they need an authority figure to reassure them in ways that someone like Glyn Johns never could. Just, perfectly cool and collected, puts everything right as they’re all shouting at him like school children who’ve just had a terrible time in PE. 

“Believe me, when I tell you.” “Oh, I do.” Oh, good. He did put it in. That’s nice. Right, and this is the moment Yoko decides to tell John her divorce has come through and pull him in for a big smooch. Honestly, it just shows how threatened she feels by Paul. Nevermind her whole, “good thing Paul isn’t a girl or he would have been a great threat,” quote. Clearly, he just is a threat regardless of sex.

And then John, “I’m freeeee.” At Paul. Honestly, the amount of things they direct specifically and aggressively at each other that should’ve just been general statements if there wasn’t some weird thing between them. It’s really something. Normally, you’d announce something like that to the whole room. But it seems John specifically wants to impress upon Paul that he and Yoko could get married right now if they wanted to. I mean, it’s a little difficult to make the point, because John and Paul almost aways seem to be talking only to each other. But through the whole discussion of Yoko’s divorce, John does not take his eyes off of Paul. 

Oh my gosh, Ivan Vaughn is here? How many emotional support boyfriends does Paul need to make up for John having Yoko? Glyn, Linda, George Martin, Dennis, Robert Fraser, and now Ivan? Fuck’s sake, Yoko, you’re a powerful woman.   

Paul’s Strawberry Fields piano. Let me be as vulnerable and broken as possible in my singing, since I can’t show you any other way that you’re killing me. Do you remember this song? That you wrote when we were at the height of our partnership only two years ago? How happy we were then? How beautiful the world seemed for that one brief moment? And John can’t look at him, because, yes he fucking remembers and yes he knows he’s hurting Paul. But for whatever reason, (my theory is he wanted something more Paul couldn’t give him. What that was and whether it was ever specifically vocalized I don't have a guess) going back to that time would be more painful to John than this has been.  

So they’ve been goofing off and Paul gives this little speech to get them back on task. “Alright Chawn Love. I’ve gotta call order, John, now, valuable time, here, son. Cool down, son.” But John’s response, “Don’t let me down, babe” completely switches Paul’s gears. He now thinks it’s important enough to get in this little snatch of a *meaningful* cover, “Take these Chains from my Heart,” reversing the course of productivity he’d got them on and ignoring the fact that they were about to do a take on two-shilling-a-foot tape. My interpretation of this moment is a bit tin-hatish and long, but suffice it to say, John is not happy with the message.

Everyone convincing Paul to do another take of his song is surprising, considering everything we always hear about how Paul was a tyrant task-master who just forced everyone to keep doing his lame muzak over and over when they all clearly hated it. Mal, “You can always go back to it.” Paul, “Do you want your head kicked in?” John, “We’ll never get a chance to do it again.” Paul, “Okay, honey bunch. Let’s hit it one time, tutti-frutti.” 

Yoko watching Paul check out her boyfriend’s ass. Classic. Also the fact that she literally copied his outfit? I get so much second-hand embarrassment for her, and it’s not when she’s being a weirdo and a statement-maker. It’s the having to physically stick the gum you were offering your boyfriend into this hand because he won’t take his eyes off his boyfriend for two seconds to look at you. 

Everyone laughing at Perfect Paul being out of tune is so funny to me. Like when the nerd finally gets a question wrong and the whole class is all “ooooohhhh!”

Ringo having a grand old time on the drums. I love that he just knew that’s what he wanted to do from such a young age and he never wanted to do anything else. And why would he? He’s a genius at it.

Paul. “John’s got something at 1:30 and so have I.” Smirk emoji. Side-eye emoji. George is with me. “Yeah we've got something too. I’ll do Ringo at 1:30.” I'm dead.

This moment right here hurts me. Paul’s enjoying a nice cuddle with Ringo until he remembers the camera. You’re not going to get in trouble for having your friend’s arm around your shoulders, Paul. Why are you like this? 

[kinardsevan]

so I’ve been thinking about this for like two days now, and I’m gonna say it. 

I’m fucking bothered. The amount of crap going around right now into relation of Tommy as a character and the rhetoric it’s being equated to is infuriating. Now personally, I try not to speak on things I can’t chiefly relate to (i.e., I’m not a gay male firefighter, so I won’t speak on the reality of living that life), however, I’m highly concerned about the attitude people are giving off in relation to the way that Tommy is undeserving of a redeption arc/is an asshole because of who he was in the past. 

First of all, I want to remind those who would actually take the time to read this: he’s a television character, and in no way does that put Lou in the position of being deserving of any vitriol for the shit he’s had to put up with. Or has it already been so long that we’ve forgotten about the shit Isabel Gillies was put through when Elliot Stabler returned to L&O:SVU (a whopping 5 years ago)? To that end, these actors are just earning a paycheck. They don’t deserve the abuse spewed at them any more than any person who works in retail or food service does because someone makes a small mistake on your bad day.

Further though, I’m concerned by the attitude that there is hatred spewed towards the character of Tommy because of who he WAS. I find it highly unlikely that there’s a single person on this planet that hasn’t forgiven at least one person in their life for some shitty thing they did in the past. To that end: we clearly have seen based off the way s7 went that Hen and Chimney made that choice at some point. Does it excuse previous behavior? No. I don’t know that when you forgive someone that excusing bad behavior is the intention. However, you give them room to grow and flourish. To that end, the arc that Lou has been given for Tommy is clearly within those lines. 

None of this is to say that what the character of Tommy did was okay or acceptable. However, I’d venture to guess that if we’d never seen the recurrence of Tommy Kinard on the show in s7 (and most likely s8), no one would bat an eyelash at the mention of his character, because in terms of how his storyline was wrapped up in s2, things are left on good terms. However, because he’s now Buck’s love interest for the moment and possibly forseable future, he’s got all kinds of problems. He has all kinds of toxic behavior. Nevermind the fact that this rhetoric comes from the same people who fail to also concede that Eddie, the preferred option as a LI for Buck for a large crowd, also has his own toxic behaviors. Hell, he even has his own toxic behaviors towards Buck. But you don’t see those who appreciate Tommy as a character pointing fingers at those issues. 

If you want to call me toxic because I’m not afraid to point all of this out, so be it. It is canonically unfair to tell someone that they are a toxic person because of who they used to be, and not the person they are today. The attitude towards “Tommy blame Gerrard for his behavior”, as though the character is supposed to resolve every issue he previously created with other characters in the limited screen time he was given, given the contract extension. Although, something tells me that even if Tim & Co had put the effort into making the scenes all about that instead of devoting it to the point of his character development (Buck and Tommy’s relationship), people would still find something to complain about. 

I’m not saying you have to like Tommy with Buck. I’m not even saying you have to like Tommy, period. But it’s arguable to say that if you’re going to decide not to like him, first, Lou is not the person to blame (someone else very well could’ve played the character and yall would be doing the same thing). And second, maybe find some realistic reasoning behind not liking him other than the fact that it makes Evan unavailable to chase after Eddie (because some people clearly aren’t prepared for that discussion). 

~

[starry-eyes-love]

Marriage Dynamics - Texting with Hubby

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

Summary | Joel x F!Reader are married and share in typical cute husband and wife dynamics that can occur with texting, especially when the wife (f!reader) informs Joel of how certain sexual practices will mean he is healthier. No out-break AU.

Warnings | 18+, minors DNI, sexual references and language, reference to smut without any smut, husband & wife dynamics, flirting, daddy kink, angst (female is upset for a moment), pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, etc.) size kink, age gap but no statements of how old, slight emoji usage.

A/N: See the backstory of these two individuals in Jan 2024 with the series titled Love Never Fails.

Texting Back and Forth with Joel Miller, your husband

You (Y): So Joel, I got a health lesson for you. They say eating pussy is considered to be organic. I know the doctor said you needed to be healthier and to try to only consume organic things. So just FYI 😏

Joel (J): Haha. I believe me coming down that beautiful throat of yours is organic too darlin'.

Y: Haha, true. God you have a filthy mouth

J: Me? No. You do sweetheart, especially when I’m shoving that fat cock down it. Your mouth feels so good when I'm in it baby.

Y: 🤤

J: Since you brought it up, does my baby need some attention? I bet that little kitty of yours needs some extra special attention today, huh?

Y: I don’t know, considering we haven't done it for 3 weeks Joel.

J:  Aw, poor baby. Is she achin’ bad honey?

Y:  Aching and throbbing Joel. Just to warn you, she may claw you hard for how desperate she is for attention 🫣

J: Why don’t you give her a little pet, huh, until daddy can help relieve it?  You gotta ease that pressure off a bit honey. 

Y:  Nope, not gonna happen.

J:  Not gonna happen, why?  When was the last time you gave her attention?

Y:  Not since we had sex last Joel.

J:  Seriously?  You telling me you haven’t fucked yourself since we fucked last?  3 weeks ago?

Y: Yes Joel

J:  Fuck baby, I fucked my fist last night in the shower when you were sleeping and at least 3 times in a week to relieve some tension cause we haven’t been able to find time in our schedules to do it together.  Mama, you gotta do something to ease that tension sweetheart.

Y:  Don’t

J:  Oh my poor baby. Don't worry, daddy will make it feel better soon. Daddy will stroke it nice for ya. That little kitty will purr so good again darlin'

Y: Jesus Joel, fuck 😩

J: What mama? Is she really needy right now? 

Y: What the fuck do you think?

J: Don’t know baby, don’t know until you tell me.  Does she need a fat cock in it? Does she want it deep and hard inside of her?

Y:  Jesus Joel

J:  Come on mama, does she want it?

Y:  Yes, yes I want it. Want it bad.

J:  There ya go honey, why didn’t you say something. Unfortunately mama, you can’t have it. Not for awhile yet.

Y: Fuck you 

J: Fuck me? Yes you will honey, tonight in our bed and hard. Now be a good girl for daddy and purr nice for me.

Y: Joel, baby…nevermind.

J: What? Tell me.

Y: 💦I want it

J: Want this? 🍆

Y: Yes

J:  Ok, baby, tonight. 

Y:  You promise?

J:  Yes I promise, later. 

3 hrs later

J: I hope you realize that your ass is in trouble tonight. Fucking A.

Y: uh, are you talking to me, your wife? 

J: Yes smartass, who else would I be talking to?

Y: I don't know who you talk to Joel.

J: Baby, I don't fuck around on you, you know that.

Y: No I don't

J: What the fuck does that mean? I ain't fucking other women. Jesus!!!

Y: Ok, hot head. Why is my ass gonna be in trouble then?

J: Just forget it

Y: You're an asshole

J: Really? Fuck off woman

Y: You texted me first ya dick, so fine. 

J: No, you sent me that pussy comment and all I've been thinking about today is it

Y: I said fine

J: Do you know how hard it is to work at a construction site with a fucking hard on?

Y: I said fine Joel!

Y: Anyways, I’m sorry 😔

J: Sorry for what? 🤨

Y: Just forget it ok…just…

J: Baby, what's wrong? Talk to me

Y: Why? You're just going to yell at me again 😭

J: Are you really crying right now or…??

Y: Jesus, yes Joel. I am actually fucking crying. God, don't be such a dick to me.

J: Hey now sugar, come on. Daddy didn't mean it. What's the matter?

Y: Don't. Just don't Joel.

J: Mama what the fuck is the matter? Come on, ya gotta talk to me honey. Want me to call you???

Y: No it's just….forget it

J: No I ain't forgetting it. Come on baby, tell me. Do you want me to come home?

Y: No Joel, it's fine.

J: Obviously not. I'm coming home

Y: Don't be stupid

J: Why, cause my wife is upset and won't talk to me. Seems like a perfectly good reason to me.

Y: Jesus Joel, I'm fucking all worked up ok. I'm worked up and it hurts, and…

J: Now I’m gonna come home.

Y: Why?

J: Why? Cause my wife is in pain and hurting and I want to make sure she feels better and ok.

Y: You’re an asshole. I'm not talking about that kind of pain.

J: Baby, I know which one you're talking about. I bet she’s throbbing hard. Is she aching to be touched by your husband?

Y: I hate you 

J: Where are you? You at home yet sugar?

Y: No. I have to leave to go and pick up the boys from school. 

J:  Why?  School doesn’t get out for almost an hour.

Y:  Yeah but I don’t want to park almost a mile away. They have construction and stuff so I want to actually find a parking space in the long ass line that probably is already there.

J: Ok, call me when you get there

Y: Why??

J: You'll see 😏

Y: Joel. Wtf??

J: There's a reason why I paid for tinted windows for the car baby. Mama's gonna fuck herself with her fingers, and her husband is gonna be the one on the phone helping her get there.

Y: You can't

J: Oh yes mama I can, and I will. Call daddy when you get there 

Y: Joel, please, you can't

J: Baby, either you call me and I hear you fucking play with yourself or I will drive there myself and fuck you in that car. It ain't gonna take us that long baby. We’re both so fucking worked up. 

Y: Why not just at home later?

J:  I may be late tonight and not in on time

Y:  Fuck you, seriously??

J:  Baby, choose which one

Y:  None

J:  Y/n! Choose!!

Y:  Fine, the one where you go fuck yourself and leave me alone

J: Fine, I’ll see you there in 20 minutes.

Y: Fine Joel, I'll fucking call you. Jesus.

J: Good girl

Y: Can I ask you a question babe?

J: 🤨

Y: Please?? 🥺 It's an innocent question.

J: Innocent my ass.  What do ya want?

Y: Can you spank my ass later daddy, I want you to and then fuck that little hole with your fingers also as you take me from behind? Please 🙏🏼

J: Fuck. Yeah. Sure. We’ll do it sometime soon when I don’t want to fall asleep right away.

Y: Well, I’ll be waiting forever then.  Damn it. 

J: It ain’t like I want it to be like that. 20 mins y/n. 20 minutes and you call me or I'm coming over there, ya hear me. 

Y:  Fine

J:  Promise?

Y:  Yes I do. I think I’ll grab my toy, since my husband ain’t gonna get in there

J:  You're trouble, I tell ya. You're gonna be the fucking death of me woman.

Y: I know, I love you 😘

J: Love ya too baby. Forever and always Angel, only you 😚💓😘

Taglist: @punkshort @shotgun-shelby @strawbunnyx @orcasoul @pedritoferg @chiogarza @jesfreedark @untamedheart81 @rainbow12346 @nandan11 @swiftpascal @eliza-8 @joeldjarin @vickie5446 @nastiasnow @staywildflowahchild @ratoonstown @l3laze @its-always-420-on-the-moon @kirsteng42 

[ququb444hm]

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭, 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝

part 30 / sassy man apocalypse ☆

masterlist

warning(s): *REUPLOAD* bc i didnt like the first one n i am in love with angst/comfort, possible typos, profanity, kys joke

rain pitter-pattered against the glass windows of mr. ramirez’s classroom as soft jazz filled the empty conversations of college students writing out their history essays due at the end of the week. 

“aw man. what the hell.” rin groaned as he accidentally wrote down the wrong citation on his worksheet. “mori, do you have white-out? i keep fucking messing up and i’m so close to throwing the whole paper away.”

rummaging through his green pencil pouch, the sandy blond shook his head with a frown. “think i might’ve forgotten it in my dorm, sorry. nn* might have some though,” he stood up from his chair, walking over to yn’s table which was as quiet as ever.

(nn = nickname)

keiji had just left to go use the bathroom a few minutes ago, the seat in front of his being vacant also because that student barely came to class, today was no different. the girl who was assigned to sit in front of yn was fast asleep and the other kid who was supposed to be in front of kozume had moved to talk to their friend across the room. this left yn and kozume alone together. awkward. 

but yn didn’t seem to care... or to notice.

actually, she didn’t even seem mentally present.

mr. ramirez was still getting used to being in a physical classroom after persistently having asynchronous classes for almost two years because he simply “didn’t wanna get out of bed.”— he often supported his statement by falling asleep after his short lectures and with the current weather, it was easy to do so. 

so whenever yn had history class, it was basically a free period. which was very much needed after the conversation she had the previous day with shoyou. just what did he mean when he said kozume was scared of letting himself be happy? so focused on the question at hand that everything around her all mushed together into an unimportant blur. the pen in her dominant hand moved on autopilot, creating messy scribbles all over her notebook– seemingly illustrating her disordered mind.

“yn, do you have any white-out? cause oh! uh-” mori peeked over her shoulder, seeing the black ink pour out of the pen and dance like there was no tomorrow all over the lined paper. “uhm.. yn?”

noticing her unresponsive behavior, kozume placed a gentle hand over hers, squeezing it ever so slightly. “hey,” his soft touch mixed with the familiar comforting sound of his voice lulled yn’s tangled thoughts, bringing her back to the present moment. “are you okay? mori was trying to talk to you but you weren’t responding.”

“hm? oh.” collecting herself, yn turned to face her friend with a smile. “sorry, mori.”

the libero raised a brow at the interaction, his eyes lingering on the physical contact of their hands that still continued even with yn snapped out of her daze. “uh yeah, all good, nn. rin just needed some white-out 'cause i forgot mine. so i’ll be taking this-” he situated himself in between yn and kozume’s chairs, purposely hovering the top half of his body over their joined hands (with his ass poking out because of the weird position) to emphasize his nonverbal disapproval at the blond, before dramatically grabbing the white-out and dragging it to the edge of the desk, successfully (and awkwardly) separating their hands in the process. “pleasure doing business with you.” he chirped, giving kozume a dirty look before trudging back to his own table.

“sorry.” kozume mumbled, turning his attention back to his work. he internally groaned, scolding himself for what he did. ‘couldn’t you just tap her shoulder? but noooo you just can’t keep your hands off her. stupid.’

“it’s okay.” yn reassured. “actually, kozume i-” the sound of the chair next to her sliding against the vinyl flooring made her stop her sentence– keiji was back. “nevermind."

as time drew on, it was finally the end of morning classes, and yet it was still pouring outside. even heavier than when class started.

“be careful out there!” mr. ramirez warned, watching as students bustled out of his class and into the rain. “make sure to turn your essays in by friday, midnight! each minute after the deadline is my increasing disappointment in all of you!”

“you sure you’re okay going with him?” mori asked for the fifth time as yn packed her bag. kozume blankly stared at mori, wanting to get out of the class as soon as possible because he could feel keiji staring at them, eavesdropping on the conversation. he internally begged keiji wouldn’t try to confront him about walking with yn. 

but, in all honestly…he was a little happy that yn had asked. even if it was because of tetsu. he missed her. every single fiber in his body yearned to be with her. hate coursed his body ever since that night. but only for himself. he wouldn’t, couldn’t, never blame anyone else, even keiji, for his actions because he knew that in the end, he was the one that told yn all those cruel words. so when yn asked if he could accompany her to pick up tetsu, he was grateful that they were able to have some time alone. just the two of them.

yn sent her friend a comforting smile. “i’ll be okay, don’t worry about me. just let coach know we’re gonna be a little late m’kay?” mori sighed, knowing he couldn’t change her mind even if he physically dragged yn away from kozume– they’d just find their way back to each other one way or another.

“see you.” rin murmured, ruffling yn’s hair before walking out with mori.

“which building is tetsu in?” kozume asked, getting his umbrella ready.

yn fixed the straps of her bag, waving at mr. rameriz as she and kozume exited the class before answering, “pretty sure it's on the second floor of T building.”

“ohh.”

“is that okay?”

“yeah. that’s okay.”

the walk to T building was quiet and a bit tense. yn fidgeted with her hands, shoyou’s words still circulating through her mind. she wanted answers from kozume. she wanted him to tell her why things were the way they were between them. but she didn’t want to force it out of him. she wanted kozume to come to her first. her eyes focused on the path in front, letting the sound of the rain calm her down. 

kozume on the other hand, he couldn’t stop staring at her. he never could in the first place. yn was just so spellbinding, and the rain wasn’t helping in the slightest. he had so much to say, but he could never find the right words when it came to her. he stopped in his tracks, holding onto the umbrella tightly. his free hand pulled at the hem of yn’s jacket so they were facing each other. “yn, i’m sorry.” his voice was soft. it was almost hard to hear over the harsh rain. 

the sudden gesture caught yn off guard. “wha..?” kozume’s apology, though expected because of how much they both knew his words affected yn, came out of nowhere. “kozume-”

“i know i haven’t been honest with you, but i..” he pursed his lips, mind going blank as he stared into yn’s inquisitive eyes. “i don’t know what to do.” his voice sounding desperate. sounding lost.

“kozume,” every time she said his name, it felt like a stab to the heart. he missed how her voice was laced with so much love when she’d call him kozu or koz, but now his name seemed foreign as it rolled off her tongue. she placed a comforting hand on his, returning the gentle squeeze he gave her previously. “you’re my friend before anything that happens. i don’t know what’s happening with you, and it physically hurts to have you push me away, but i’ll always want to be someone you can talk to.” her thumb rubbed the back of his hand, soothing all his anxious assumptions of how the conversation would’ve turned out.

her touch was so soft and warm, a heavenly contrast to the heavy rainfall. kozume’s features relaxed, his head falling forward to rest on yn’s shoulder. her other hand reached to caress his head. “i don’t want to keep hurting you.” he mumbled.

“i don’t want to keep getting hurt either, kozume.”

“i know, i’m sorry yn. please be a little more patient with me. i didn’t mean anything i said that night, i was just overwhelmed and i regret taking it out on you.”

yn continued running her fingers through his blond hair. she slowly nodded, letting his words sink in. “i don’t forgive you for what you said, and how you constantly kept confusing me before that night, but i’m not mad at you, kozume.” her hold on his hand tightened in just the slightest. “it hurt when you made me feel you liked me back and kissed me only to call everything a mistake, and it hurt when you told me you weren’t being honest with me just now. you hurt me kozume, but still, i don’t want to lose you.”

the two stayed in their positions for a few more minutes. allowing themselves to bask in each other’s comfort. yn was the only good thing in kozume’s life, he knew that. and for a moment he let himself forget just how much he needed her. but he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. 

he knew he had to talk to keiji.

“what took you guys so long?!” tetsu fussed. after what was about 15 minutes since the bell, the two had finally made it to tetsurou’s class. “and why is my sister wet, kozu!? i thought you had an umbrella??” he quickly removed his own jacket, placing it on top of yn’s smaller figure. 

“it’s raining hard as fuck out there.” kozume groaned, also damp from the rain

“why do you guys still have practice anyway.” yn shivered, wrapping herself in the added fabric. “i know your game is coming up but what if some of you get sick?”

“no pain, no gain!” tetsu insisted, grabbing kozume’s umbrella from him and pushing the two out of the class. “now we gotta hurry..coach called me like three times telling me to get my ass to the gym!”

yn checked her phone to see if she had gotten a call also,

2 missed calls from milo’s dad 🫶🏼 1 missed call from SUNAVABITCH 🤣🤣 3 missed calls from alcoholic (coach) ⭐️

“well, fuck.”

part 29 secret little personal diary <- | masterlist | -> part 31 old man

note(s): me when i lie n say i'll finish this before thanksgiving break but i didn't >p< (IM SORRY.) anyways.. am i or am i not dragging their argument too long like.. let's wrap it up kenma! also i don't like the ending..but i wanted to post SOMETHING so i might change it later. next part is also written.. but AFTER that r a few text msgs :3

✩⡱ taglist !! + @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @sherryuki-callmeyuki @anny-bah @ast4rg1rl @sukunasrealgf @dani-shitting-around @whokillednyx @vernon-dursley @limaswife @sugawara-levi @sixxze @ryoiii @literally-a-ferret @444sunarin @llearlert @lloyd4x @usermins @2baddies-1porsche @vernon-dursley @lyzisbitchingagain @h3xi2g0n3 @l0v3do11 lmk if u want to be added (msg or inbox)ヾ(･ω･`；)ﾉ

[fruchtfliege]

🐺💋🫡🧪🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

...ask from this post...

🐺 - stuck as a wolf!theo au

Liam stays in the entrance with Theo for a moment.

“We could still make a break for it,” Theo suggests in a whisper, barely sarcastic. 

Smiling at him, Liam lets himself enjoy the sight of Theo being here. He could’ve run away at any given point today. Or even planned an escape yesterday to make sure to miss this much dreaded pack meeting. But he didn’t. Theo’s here. With him. The beta's affectionate gazing is only broken by Liam looking down when he sees Theo raise his fist slightly. Liam’s smile twists into a lovey-dovey pout.

“Don’t make me like you too much. I can’t even kiss you here!” Liam complains, heartbroken, before he fist bumps him and then walks at a courageous pace towards the living room. 

Theo breaks into a soft smile of his own.

“Come!” Liam says innocently when he notices that Theo isn’t following him. 

The chimera doesn’t even think about it, he immediately steps out of the entrance and joins him.

💋 - petopher mean girls!au

“Who the fuck does she think she is?” Peter growls, his eyes gaining a faint glow. It doesn't matter if he lets himself shift a little, it’s Halloween.

“I think she’s supposed to be a girl Einstein?” Duke says with a hesitant voice.

Peter glares at him.

“I know what her costume is, idiot!” Peter snarls, so angry, he's almost panting. His eyes, still darkened by fury, glance right back at Melissa. He barely suppresses a growl. “She just had to steal what’s mine again, uh?” he adds despite his fangs popping out.

“I mean, she got invited by him,” Corinne reminds him. “Also, he’s not really yours anymore.”

Peter turns to her, his eyes glowing with a bright and menacing gold. “Do you need a lesson in ownership?”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” She stares at him, getting her claws out.

“Peter, just let it go,” Duke says with a sigh. “It’s Halloween and he’s his own person.”

Peter looks back at Chris smiling at Melissa Caravello… Smiling like Chris used to smile at him.

“Not for long,” Peter says confidently, his mind already working on a plan to get Chris back. Peter kinda missed having him around anyway. He was a fun distraction. A distraction Melissa won’t get to have.

🫡 - the caretaker

At 8 am sharp, Theo is there to pick up Corey, Brett, and Liam to give them a lift to practice.  Since they all slept at Mason's place, they all agreed it was smarter to simply take one car. Anyway, both Corey and Brett are too tired to drive and wouldn't have gone to practice if it hadn't been for Liam making sure they did. Beside Liam who has a suspicious pep in his step on his way out, Corey and Brett are dragging their feet behind. 

“Good morning, sleepyheads,” Theo exclaims, happy to be the torn in their sleep-deprived sides. Sipping from one of the two mugs of coffee in his hands, Theo waits by his truck and gives the second mug to Liam with barely more than a quick glance. 

“Not fair,” Brett whines at the obvious favoritism, “how come he gets a coffee and not me?”

Theo shrugs. “I like him better than you.”

Liam happily gets in the passenger seat with a small grin.

“Yeah, tell me something I don't know.” Brett groans, walking all the way around the car to get in the backseat with Corey. 

They barely put on their seat belts when Theo then unceremoniously passes a blue Gatorade bottle to Corey who immediately breaks into a smile with excitement. He doesn't drink coffee but he sure loves blue-flavored juice!

“How come Corey gets-” Brett exclaims once more with even more offense but then stops himself immediately. “You know what, nevermind. I'm not walking into that one.” He turns and stubbornly looks out the window. 

Theo chuckles – a hint of sinister cackle underneath it that Theo doesn't often lets out these days – before finally handing Brett a can of his favorite brand of energy drink. 

Brett freezes for a moment, genuinely shocked that not only he would get him something but also know what his favorite drink is… After a moment of hesitation, Brett finally takes it, rolling his eyes to hide the residual surprise. Theo starts the car and pretends he can't see Liam gazing and smiling openly at him.

🧪 - re-animator au

Now, it's Liam's turn to put a hand over Theo's mouth. He doesn't do it gently either. With his left hand on the back of his head to maintain him there, Liam presses his right hand hard on his face. He thinks Theo will put up a fight as he so often does. And sure, Theo freezes for a moment but it's oh so clear how he eases into the firm hold with the willingness of an obedient dog. Liam stares at him, mesmerized. There's something so intimate about feeling the air that travels in and out of Theo's nose against his hand. Liam doesn't even care about the person in the corridor anymore, all he can think about is how dark Theo's eyes are as they finally land on him.

Liam needs to keep his hand over Theo's mouth just to keep himself from kissing him.

🤍 - first chimera!liam

Stiles accidentally slaps Scott's face as he makes grand gestures. “Did we all forget how Liam just came out of nowhere on day dot to save the day like some cartoon superhero?”

“But that's exactly it!” Theo exclaims, cutting him off in the process. “Don't you think that, if he planned this, he would've come in, helped a little but ultimately still not do better than us and maybe even get himself hurt? That way, he still would've proved himself willing to help without ever portraying himself as a threat. By showing weakness, he could've gotten our sympathy and lowered our defenses.”

Scott and Stiles stare at him for a few, long seconds.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Stiles quickly answers. “You just sound like you've thought it through.”

“I- No, it's… It's just common sense.”

“Common evil sense,” Stiles says as he squints suspiciously at one of the closest friends in the whole world.

[crimeboys]

🌹!

“No, we’re not a new restaurant,” Wilbur says into the phone. Most calls are people asking that same question because of the name, Name Pending, that Wilbur and Niki thought was fucking hilarious six years ago. Now, Wilbur wants to ring their quirky little necks. “The name is just an inside joke. Yes, we’re open. Until 6pm. Because we’re a bakery, sir.”

The bell rings as the door opens. Wilbur doesn’t really need the bell because he can see with 100% clarity when people come in, but he and Niki thought it would add that touch of authenticity. As the customer continues to rant about wanting cookies at 7pm, a grimy-looking man walks in. Well, his skin isn’t grimy but his clothes are. Wilbur wonders how one can conceivably get that many stains on a shirt.

Wilbur hangs up the phone despite the customer still speaking and says, “Welcome in. What can I get for you today?”

“A job,” the man says. “If you’ve got one, I need a job. Badly.” Wilbur can afford to keep this place running maybe two months more.

“Well, I’m sorry but you’d probably have better luck-”

“No!” The man shouts, and Wilbur straightens up a bit in his shock. “No, no, no because that's what the lady at the supermarket said.”

“You got rejected by the lady at the supermarket?” They’ve got terrible turnover there. And thieves. This guy’s resume must be shit.

“Yeah, then I went to the bookstore, then the arcade, then the fucking thrift. All of them said, you’ll have better luck down the street!”

“Well,” Wilbur says with a shrug. “London.”

“Oh, fuck London.” Wilbur agrees. “Look, I really just- I just need a job, alright?”

“Yes, but I haven’t got one to give you.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I just prefer to work alone.” A lie. Wilbur misses the loud mornings of baking and music, crooning and dancing with Niki as they laughed, Wilbur always stealing at least one cookie per batch. Mornings with himself are loud in the bad way.

“Okay. I prefer having a job, personally.” The man slaps a paper on the counter. Wilbur bends over to skim it. Oh, nevermind, there are hardly 20 words. It would be hard to skim any more than that.

RESUME:

Name: Tommy Innit Prior Job: ONLY Man Ever Expected Pay: 200 dollars per hour

“Right,” Wilbur says. He folds his hands on the counter. “I’m not giving you 200 dollars an hour.”

“We can negotiate. 199.99 isn’t terrible.”

“You ever heard of minimum wage?”

“Ever heard of knowing your worth?” Wilbur’s eye twitches.

“What could you even bring to the table? You have any skills? Anything that would amount to earning 200 dollars an hour?” Tommy squints, like this question has never occurred to him.

“Work.”

“But what can you do?”

“Work.”

“If you can’t even answer a simple question-”

“Just tell me what to do, I’ll do it! I don’t care what it is.”

“Have you ever baked? Have you ever cleaned?” 

“I can figure it out!”

“Sorry, was that a no on the cleaning thing?” Looking at Tommy’s clothes, Wilbur would wager so.

“Just give me a chance!” Wilbur is not at the fucking place he can just give people chances right now. He’s going out of business, he just got dumped by Dream for the upteenth fucking time, and his little brother had the audacity to offer him money not 24 hours ago. He does not want to garner another fucking loss.

“Why won’t anyone hire you?” Tommy groans.

“Fuck’s it matter?”

“Color me curious.”

“Fuckin’- not a lot of places take ex-cons.” Well, that’s certainly something. That should probably make Wilbur’s choice even easier. But Tommy looks determined, Wilbur might be a little manic right now, and he’s tired of eating burnt fucking cinnamon rolls.

- document titled "relationship scramble"

[letitias-wife]

Our Countries Greatest

Description: Anathi and the queen have arrived in Haiti a/n: mb yall...I meant to post this like 3 days ago... Warnings: mentioning past break up Word count: 1138

Chapter 1,

Chapter Two: Nakia, Daughter of Yaa

Anathi’s point of view

I was led into the throne room where Queen Ramonda and M’baku were seated.

“M’Bakuuuu.” I grinned, “Bagged the big dog huh?”

Ayo plucked the back of my head, “Shut up.”

“I’m just messing.” I chuckled, “Y’all all of a sudden can’t take a joke?”

“This is not the time for that, Anathi.” The Queen hushed me.

“What is it?” I scanned the room, “Where’s Shuri?” 

“I’m sure you know already, Shuri’s been kidnapped.”

“Of-fucking-course she is.” I whispered under my breath, “What do you need me for?”

“I need you to retrieve her,” The Queen stood to her feet and slowly trotted towards me, her hands clasped together like my mother’s were a minute ago. “By any means necessary.”

“Have my mother do it.” I scoffed, “I have things to do.”

“You have no assignments for the next week.” She rested her hand on my shoulder, a small but fake smile on her face. Her grip tightened on my shoulder, I scrunch my face in disgust. Her eyes met mine, “I know you…care about my daughter-”

“I loved her.” I hissed, “You took her from me.”

“I did what was necessary to protect her.”

“Protect her from what?” I shifted my shoulder, knocking her hand away from me.

“You were not well then.” She said in a soft but assertive voice, the kind my mother used.

“Neither was she.” I snapped back, “None of us were.”

“Silence Anathi.”

“So you drag me here…in chains, insult me, yet beg for my help?” I chuckled and fiddled with my cuffs.

“Anathi, I wouldn’t have requested your presence if there were other options.”

“You’ve made that painfully clear.” I sighed, “When do I leave.”

The Queen looked somewhat shocked by my response, “In two days, we will fly to Haiti to retrieve Nakia then you two will leave.”

I shrugged, “Fine, but if she gets in the way-” I warned.

“She won’t.” M’baku chimed in, “I’m sure we won't have any repeats of that little incident.”

I glanced over at the fuzz-covered man, “Repeats of what M’baku?”

“Nevermind that.” Aneka leaped in front of me before I could say anything else.

Queen Ramonda waved her hand, “You are dismissed.”

I yanked my body away from Ayo and Aneka and stormed out of the throne room.

"I'll need a copy of the fight with my mother and these creatures," I spoke harshly as I rushed back to my room before tears could surface.

Queen Ramonda’s point of view

It came time to board the talon jet and Anathi was waiting in front of it, with two large duffel bags on either shoulder. She was dressed neatly in a skin tight suit that was similar to Nakia’s except her’s was a mix of gold and purple. She frowned when she saw me eyeing her outfit. Purple was not to be worn for today as respect to T’Challa.

“I don’t have anything else that’s not damaged.” She mumbled.

“I see.” I stopped and waited for her to board the jet. As she walked ahead of me I took note of the clanking and shuffling in her bag, “What did you bring with you?”

“I looked over some video footage of my mother fighting the fish people. They seem to have some indigenous descent. They were known for having incredible fighting skills, close to ours minus the tech advances.” She explained as we took flight.

“Which means?” I leaned down to closely observe what was in the bags as she opened them.

“I’m going to need larger blades, not sure which ones though.” She pulls out a few different swords and maces, “I couldn’t decide in time.”

I nodded and leaned back in my seat. I shut my eyes trying to relax before we reached Haiti. Praying to our gods that Shuri is safe and unharmed.

"I can't decide." Anathi says.

I only hummed back.

"I prefer small dual swords, good for close combat but-" She lifted a thin katana, "These will work best with his scythe as well."

"Dual swords, there are too many of them to fight with one sword alone." I chimed in before she could start rambling.

She nodded, "Seems like you know everything." She said in a joking yet serious tone.

My eyes flicked open to look down at her. She was squatting on the floor of the jet, hunched over her assortment of weapons. A focused and stressed look on her face. A face I remember all too well.

“You made her leave me?” She stood before me covered in sweat, her eyes pink from crying.

“Shuri is old enough to-”

“You told her to, I knew it.” She turned back to her sparring partner, aggressively fighting with tonfas. Her frustrated grunts turned into weeping as she continued to fight…

"Anathi." I called to her.

She only hummed.

"I'm sorry I influenced your breakup, but you know I was right."

"I know…" She whined.

"Then why do you-"

"I just miss her." She groaned, "I spent so much time with her for so long that without her I can't function."

"That is the problem, child." I said softly, "You should not depend on one person alone for happiness and peace."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, "You sound like my mother."

"Maybe you should listen to her every once in a while."

"I don't need to." She stood up and placed her sheaths on her back, "I've heard it all before, 'I'm too weakminded' 'not ready' 'too hostile'" she recalled the insults with ease.

Her voice sounded a bit softer now, like she was on the brink of tears.

Anathi placed a set of knives into either of her boots that then retracted to match her suit.

"Your mother only wants what's best for you."

"Sure." She chuckled to herself and set her assortment of weapons back in their respective bags.

>Queen, we have arrived in Haiti<

Nakia's point of view

Toussaint and his group of friends rushed towards the center of the school to play followed by giggles and loud French-Haitian. I turned to face one of the older students, "Alors expliquez-moi comment vous- (so tell me how you-)"

"Mère! (Mother-)" A voice called out which I knew as my son's. I swiftly turned back to the group to see them missing from the courtyard. My eyes frantically scanned the school until my eyes landed on a familiar face.

"Bonjour." The woman said.

"Ikumkani wam. (My queen)" I slightly bowed, noticing another set of feet a few steps behind her. I straightened my back and watched the second woman approach me, Anathi.

Anathi, I haven't seen her in years. What has happened since I've been gone?

The queen gave me a somber look before speaking, "Nakia, I hate to disturb you at such a peaceful time but we need your help."

"Anathi…needs my help?" I chuckled, "What's going on?"

The queen took a deep breath, “Shuri has been kidnapped.”

Shit.

Chapter 1

[rosenbergamot]

“What is he doing here.” 

“Huh?” Jimmy turns to stare at him with those big brown eyes. His face splits into a grin. He’s got a little cocktail in his hands, his wings fluttering excitedly as he sees him. “Grian! It’s lovely to see you!”

“What are you doing here.” He reiterates. 

Jimmy leans over the table to spear a piece of cheese onto his toothpick, pops it into his mouth, and then shrugs, still perusing the snack table as if he hasn’t a care in the world. “Uh, I dunno, man… Tango just invited me here, so now I’m here.”

“Uh-huh.” He won’t say he’s not happy to see him here, but they’ve got this thing going, and Grian would rather be thrown out a fucking window than be the one to break a bit. “And now you’re just here? All comfy with your fruity little cocktail?”

He laughs, hearty and full. Not the least bit offended. “Well, yeah, mate? Tango’s at the bar right now, so I got whatever the heck he made me-- tastes wonderful, though, I’ll tell you that! The man’s a great bartender--”

“Tim,” he cuts him off. “I don’t care.”

Another piece of cheese is deposited into his mouth. As he chews, he says, “alright, man. Jeez…” 

And maybe it’s because he’s drunk, but Timmy is looking extra pathetic today. And he’s feeling extra emotional. And maybe-- just maybe-- he’s got a soft spot for the guy. So he sighs, shakes out his wings, and then slowly, so slowly, begins to wrap his arms around Jimmy. The guy drops his next piece of cheese.

“Grian?!” He shouts. “What the heck are you doing?”

“I’m. Hugging. You. Tim.” He squeezes him tight to will out any protests. It doesn’t work. 

“What the heck?” He laughs, then wraps his arms around Grian in return. “You must be drunk, my friend, because you never do this. Actually, am I even alive right now? Somebody pinch me!”

He flicks him on the forehead. Jimmy flicks him right back, as if on instinct, then goes right back to hugging him. 

“I’m alive, I’m awake, but I’m worried for your mental health, mate.” 

“I. Can be nice. Sometimes.” It is actually physically painful. Why is he subjecting himself to this. This is hell. This is torture. 

Jimmy nuzzles his face into his hair. “Awww, man! You’re sweet when you’re drunk! Might just hafta start hugging’ you everytime I see you now!” 

He squeezes him so tightly he knocks the air out of him. Nails against his back, he says, “don’t ever say that again.”

“Okay-- okay!” Jimmy wheezes out, pounding at his back. “Let me go! I can’t breathe!”

He releases him, and Jimmy immediately scurries out of arm’s reach, panting. “Y-You’re a menace, you know that, right?”

“Aw, Tim, you flatter me.”

Another laugh, one which sounds like he just smoked a pack of cigarettes. He’s doubled over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. His cocktail is very slowly spilling out of his glass. Grian watches it and doesn’t care to tell him. It’s kind of funny. 

“Yeah. Alright. Remind me to never get that close to you again.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s never happening again.”

He slaps his knee, bending down further, and the drink pours out at a faster rate. The pink concoction is making a puddle on the ground. Miraculously, Jimmy still does not notice. “Well, I guess I’m happy it happened once! Even if you tried to flippin’ kill me with it…”

“I’m a fickle man, Tim.” The glass is now empty. “Anyways, we’re doing a tequila shot later if you’re interested.” 

He brightens up immediately, eyes twinkling. “Oh! Oh my goodness! And you’re inviting me?” 

His face sours. “I don’t have a choice, mate. You’re here whether I like it or not.” 

The smile that Tim gives him is radiant. Back to normal, then. 

It’s… nice? God, nevermind, that makes him want to throw up. It’s bad and he hates it because Jimmy is annoying. That’s enough niceties for one day. 

“I’d love to, Grian! I’d love to!”

And that’s about all the Jimmy he can handle right now. He turns around and slips back into the crowd. As he’s weaving his way through Hermits, he hears an ear piercing shriek from behind him.

“MY DRINK IS GONE!”

[audioaujom]

27: Victim's Memoirs [wrong end 4 ★5]

Corpse Party Hub, < prev, next >

This is wrong end 4 ★5 from Chapter 2! A lot of these bad endings are fucked up and awful but I honestly debated not writing this one because it’s nasty, but… when whump calls lmao

I've also written (or begun writing) nearly every other bad ending for this game and I guess this one felt left out idk

I know compared to a lot of the other graphic shit on this hellsite this is probably nothing, but I’d feel uncomfortable posting this without a bunch of warnings. I don’t really have a taste for such graphic things, but I’m actually kind of pleased with how it came out. I like the ick ig Be safe and enjoy responsibly.

Pairing: Ranboo and Charlie

Word Count: 3190

Chapter TWs: Mind Manipulation ("Darkening"), Graphic Depictions of Violence, Gore, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Vomiting, Character Death

--

“Whoa hey, do you see that?” Charlie asked as he stepped out of the classroom, Ranboo poking his head out the door to look over his friend’s shoulder at the floor.

“The notebook paper with blood on it?” Ranboo asked, Charlie turning around to face him with a sinister grin. “Yeah, I see it. Why?”

“C’mon, aren’t you curious?” Charlie all but whined, his eyes darting back and forth between the page and Ranboo’s disapproving glare from the doorway.

“Uhm, not really. What’s it gonna say? ‘Here’s how to get out of this horrible haunted elementary school in three easy steps’?” 

“It could!” Ignoring the obvious deadpan, Charlie smiled hopefully up at Ranboo—who just sighed and shook his head.

“No, it really couldn’t.” Ranboo then paused, an unreadable look crossing his face before he continued, “But I’m not going to stop you if you do wanna look.”

“Aha! You are curious!” Charlie poked a finger into the taller boy’s chest, his smile splitting into a wide grin. “It’s just as I suspected!” Triumphant, he turned and swiped the paper up off the ground, eyes scanning the page from behind his glasses before his grip on the page tightened and his face paled. “Oh. Oh god nevermind.”

“What? What’s it say?” Ranboo asked, his own curiosity morbidly piqued by Charlie’s horror, taking the scrap paper from his friend who passed it over wordlessly.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — I ate my friend today. What else was I supposed to do? I was starving. We both were. And there's no food here. So we decided, together, that one of us should try to live just a little bit longer. If I ever get home, I'm supposed to tell all the people waiting for us what happened. We left it all up to a game of rock-paper-scissors. Loser eats winner. And I lost. I felt her blood going down my throat, quenching my thirst. And her meat was surprisingly satisfying. But that blood and that meat was once my friend. Up until just a few hours before, I'd been talking with her. As I feasted, I just kept thinking, this food used to be a person. Before I tore it apart, it all worked together to sustain a life. And every time I thought about that, I just started crying… and I couldn't stop. I wanted some part of her to be with me even after she died, so I decided to keep one of her eyeballs. And I thought maybe I should write all of this down, to help preserve some small portion of my sanity. — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Oh.” Ranboo gagged in disgust and horror, dropping the page to put one hand over his mouth as the other went to clutch at his stomach. “Well, alright. That’s… wow, okay. Um…”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Charlie tried to joke, but it fell flat as his voice shook nervously. He then put a gentle hand on Ranboo’s shoulder, quietly suggesting, “Let’s just… leave that there.”

“Yeah. Good idea.” Ranboo nodded, staring down at the paper on the floor, his look turning to a slight glare. “Just when I think things can’t get any worse…”

“C’mon, let's keep looking somewhere else.” Charlie offered, lightly pulling Ranboo by the arm away from the classroom and towards the stairs.

The two silently made their way back down to the first floor, wanting to search in a more orderly fashion by working their way up from the bottom. By the time they’d made it downstairs the odd tension in the air had already dissipated, them hunting in a much more comfortable silence until—

“Uhm… Ranboo? Is that…?” Charlie asked tentatively, pointing at another rather innocuous piece of notebook paper lying behind a ruined table near the rows of shoe shelves at the front doors.

“Another bloody piece of notebook paper probably containing horror beyond my worst imagination?” Ranboo responded rhetorically, giving Charlie a look as he blandly stated, “I think so.”

“Would it be wrong of me to say I’m still curious?” Glancing at Ranboo beside him, Charlie quickly backpedaled, “Not in a weird sort of way, I just… if it’s from the same person I want to know what happened to them.”

Ranboo stared at him blankly. “Why are you asking for my permission?” 

“It makes me feel better.”

“Wow, no hesitation there.” Ranboo shook his head at his friend’s immediate answer, sighing and gesturing forward at the page. “Sure. Go read it if you really want to.”

“Okay!” Charlie nodded, jogging forward and crouching down before looking up as he realized he wasn't being followed. “Are you not coming too?”

Ranboo stood still for a long moment before he finally gave in and stepped over with a quiet, “...coming.” 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — I hold, in the palm of my hand... a piece of a person's body. A piece of a person who was living and breathing only a short while ago. This body part used to be attached to her head. And now, I'm walking around the school with it. I had no idea eyeballs were so heavy. And I just keep squishing it in the palm of my hand, as if I'm testing its firmness. Squeeze, and release... Squeeze, and release… — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Okay.” Charlie announced, dropping the page immediately after finishing it. “Somehow that’s worse than the vivid description of cannibalism.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Ranboo grinned as Charlie turned to look at him, betrayed.

“Hey! That’s my line!” He whined with his own smile, before it slowly faded alongside the playful air as realization started to dawn on his face. “But dude… this place is really fucked up. The bodies we keep coming across are all of kids, which means—”

“Don’t. I’m gonna stop you right there.” Ranboo cut him off, firmly waving both of his hands and shaking his head for emphasis. “I don’t… don’t. Nope. I am not going to think about the implications. You are not going to think about the implications. There are no implications. None.”

Charlie nodded, his widened eyes slowly closing as he let out a breath to calm himself down. “No problem.” 

Working their way around the main floor and then to the row of first floor classrooms, the second page—while weird—was long forgotten as the two briefly bickered about how to open the nailed shut door at the back of 2-A until Ranboo remembered the nail puller they’d found earlier. The secret room was strange, with large gaps in the floor and a mechanism at the far corner, the two venturing all the way to the back corner to look over the mechanism to try and figure out what it did.

“...Charlie.” It was Ranboo who broke the silence this time, an arm flying out to the side to stop Charlie in his tracks about halfway into the room. The two boys paused, both noticing the page on the floor.

“Are these notes following us around or something?” Charlie questioned with a frown, pushing Ranboo’s arm away. “Cause we can’t seem to go more than a few feet without finding another one.”

“I don’t like this at all.” 

“Yeah, that’s… fair.” Nodding to himself, Charlie paused before shuffling forward a few steps. “...I’ve gotta, right?”

“No, you really don’t.” Ranboo answered, Charlie ignoring him as he bent down to pick up the page with a shit-eating grin. “That sounds like a yes to me!”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — I've been searching every last corner of this school building, trying to find a way of escaping with her. But it's not happening. No matter how much we struggle, only further misery awaits us. I'm so unbearably thirsty… so hungry that it feels like my stomach is eating itself... And every moment, it gets worse. It's like a big, black mass in front of me that's slowly closing in. I can't keep ignoring it. I've started talking to the eyeball in my hand, to help stay focused and maintain my sanity. Stop looking at me like that! I swear, I'll find us a way out of here! I have to make sure I tell your family what you did for me… — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Hopeless. Lovely.” Ranboo commented from over one of Charlie’s shoulders, watching as his friend curiously started re-reading a section of the note.

“What’s that black mass thing they were talking about?” Charlie asked after he finished looking over the page, setting it back down with a huff. “That sounds a little more imposing than the hunger or thirst.”

“I’m not sure… but whatever it is we should avoid it if we can.” Ranboo sighed, staring down at the note on the floor, lost in thought.

“Oh. I assumed that went without saying.” Charlie agreed, before smirking and commenting, “Y’know, to avoid the big black ball.”

“Dude.” 

“Not even  a sliver of a smile?” Smirk dropping, Charlie sighed and shook his head. “Throw me a bone here man, I’m trying to cheer you up.”

“...thanks.” Ranboo smiled a little, recognizing Charlie’s effort but still too anxious to actually feel any sense of relief. “But the best way to cheer me up would be to stop reading these creepy notes and find a way out.”

“Aye aye, captain.” 

Ignoring Charlie’s mock salute, they continued investigating each floor systematically in an on and off silence until they reached the end of one of the hallways on the third floor, the two noticing another bloodied page near a particularly large gap in the floorboards.

“Okay, I know you said to stop reading them, but it’s right there.” 

“I already said I wouldn’t stop you like ten times, Charlie.” Ranboo sighed, watching Charlie run up to the page and instantly scan its contents.

“Epic.” About halfway down the page, Charlie's expression dropped, setting the page down with a wince of nausea. “Oh. Nevermind. I think I’m just gonna… put this back…”“What did it say?” Ranboo asked curiously, wandering over and picking up the page as soon as it hit the floor.

“Oh, you don’t wanna—” Charlie reached out to stop him, but was a moment too late as Ranboo had already begun reading. “Wait!”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — I am writing these memoris wit hsticky hansd but its not me that is stiky but somethng else I hope you re not mad about this maybe you will think im a horribl e person but i got hungry again really hungry like i was about to DIE so i I did something I shouldn't have done. I promised myself I would stay sane, and promised myself I wouldn't do what I did, and I am so, so sorry, really, really sorry, really sorry but there is no excuse for what I did. With my bloody hands, I took the thing that I've been squishing, and I put it in my mouth, and I swallowed it. Iateit. — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“...yeah.” Ranboo silently let go of the page as Charlie spoke, letting it slowly flutter through the air until it landed at his feet, Charlie grabbing him by the shoulders to maneuver him further down the hall. “Let’s go, Ran.”

“Yeah.” Ranboo nodded absentmindedly, fiddling with his hands before glancing over at Charlie and timidly asking, “We’ll figure this out, right? You and me?”

“You and me.” Charlie affirmed, squeezing his shoulders. “We got this.” 

No matter how confident Charlie sounded Ranboo couldn’t shake his lingering anxiety, the longer they searched around the school with no clear goal only serving to make it continually spiral. By the time they’d backtracked to the second floor for a second time, it had gotten so bad he almost didn’t step off the landing and through the doorway to the floor, letting Charlie pull him along as he couldn’t seem to get himself to walk forward. The anxious ice in his veins that had shattered when Charlie urged him forward resurged rapidly after the briefest moment as both of them noticed the paper lying beside the large gap in the floor at the same time.

“...is that—?” Charlie asked, cutting himself off as the two stared at the page on the floor.

Ranboo nodded, dread coiling in his stomach as he couldn’t will himself to move any closer to it. “I think it is.”

“It’s fine.” Charlie said randomly, pulling Ranboo into a nearby classroom with a soft smile. “I’m not curious.” 

“What? Really?” Ranboo asked, disbelieving, some of the dread giving way to relief as Charlie sounded genuine and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, really. We have other priorities right now.” 

“Yeah. Yeah.” With a short nod from Ranboo, the two went back to investigating the small room. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

The classroom held nothing useful, Ranboo giving up after a few minutes and slamming shut the teacher’s desk drawer he’d pulled open in a vain hope of finding anything they could possibly use. He turned to comment about the empty nature of the classroom to Charlie, only to realize his friend was no longer beside him. Confused, he poked his head out of the doorway to see where he could’ve gone in the minute he was distracted with rifling through the desk.

“Charlie? Where’d you— NO!” The yell of surprise ripped out of Ranboo before he knew what he was saying, staring at where Charlie was crouched on the floor by the staircase with the previously seen note clutched in both of his hands. “Charlie, what are you doing?!”

“Sorry, Ran. I’m too curious.” Charlie apologized, flashing him a quick smile. “Besides, this is probably the last one, anyway. No harm, no foul.”

Reaching out, Ranboo threw himself forward to try and take the page from Charlie—who easily ducked out of the way. “No, don’t—!”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — if you are reading this allow me to forewarn you there is no hope of rescue there is nothing to be gained endless wandering and endless torture is the nature of this place i succumbed to my hunger and thirst began nibbling on that corpse again there is no flavor, no sensation just meat and fluid to sate my empty belly i promised i would not desecrate your body any more but i broke that promise  please  forgive me — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Charlie had barely read the last few words on the page when his vision completely blacked out.

Everything felt wrong.

The last thing Charlie remembered was reading another one of the bloody notes—please forgive me—and then blacking out on the floor. His head hurt and his mouth tasted metallic, a hand coming up to messily wipe some blood leaking out of his mouth as he tried to sit up and figure out what was going on around him.

“Shit, my head—!” Charlie glanced around with half-opened eyes, shaking his head and looking around frantically for his friend only to realize he was alone in the hallway. “What… oh god, Ranboo? Ranboo?!”

Forcing his nauseous body to his knees, he felt his stomach roil and force a line of bile up his throat from the movement, trying hard to swallow it back only for the metallic taste in his mouth to grow stronger.

“What the fuck is—?” He asked, cutting himself off to spit out a thick wad of blood that was building up in his mouth, the contents landing in an oddly gloopy pile on the wood between his knees. He spat again, the blood a little thinner but still strange as he recoiled from it and toppled over backwards. “Shit, what the fuck…?”

Finally looking up and getting his vision to focus, Charlie wished he could fall back unconscious as he realized he wasn’t technically alone—but the only company he now had was his friend’s unmoving body.

An extreme amount of blood had soaked into the wood flooring beneath Ranboo’s still form, his throat torn open and windpipe crushed, his neck missing a large chunk of jagged flesh from the middle that had already stopped oozing. His mouth and eyes were wide open, the once lively gray now faded, glassy, and frozen in a kind of terror that made Charlie sick to his stomach all over again. The muscles on his upper arms had been torn clean off, white bone sticky with what was left of the crimson tendons and blood missing from his limp arms—one of his elbows bent all the way up the wrong way. His legs weren’t nearly as torn as his arms, but they were ripped by what looked like teeth marks from the knees all the way down to his shoes, pants shredded by the unnatural strength of whatever had attacked and left his mangled body in the middle of the hallway.

“What did… what?” Charlie scrambled back up to his hands and knees to crawl up to Ranboo’s body, afraid to touch him as he realized his hands were already slick with the same blood that formed dried drips on the front of his shirt—and was very likely Ranboo’s. “Oh god, no… no no no, this some twisted fucking joke, there’s no way I would’ve… oh fuck…” Metallic twinged bile threatened to rise up his throat again, Charlie only managing to turn his head at the last minute before the vomit could soil Ranboo’s already desecrated corpse. “Blood… everywhere and… no… no, please…”

Sitting innocently next to the body was a scrap of paper that managed to avoid the worst of the spilled bodily fluids, Charlie reaching for it with shaking hands as he recognized Ranboo’s scrawled handwriting.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — It’s okay, Charlie. I know this wasn’t you. Only the school and that black mist are to blame. If you ever come back to your senses and read this… I’m sorry I couldn’t stop you. I hope you make it out. - Ran — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The rest of the note trailed off into a thick coating of blood, Charlie’s eyes going unfocused with hot tears that gathered in the corners and threatened to stream down his already messy face. “There’s no way I… I did this…?” Charlie asked aloud, his strangely half-full stomach feeling infinitely heavier as he frantically tried to spit or even throw up more of the flesh and blood coating the inside of his throat. “I… oh god…”

Another retch had vomit with chunks of barely digested muscle landing in front of Charlie, his eyes blurry with now freely flowing tears and an odd faded black tint around the edges that creeped in with a cool chill. One hand went up to claw at his throat as the other braced him against the floor, overwhelmed with a self-loathing so strong it was only rivaled by the innate disgust that stung in his mouth like his stomach acid, him clinging desperately onto the awful feelings as they started to slowly slip away from his conscious grasp into the dark void that gave him a sense of deja-vu to when he’d finished reading the last of the bloody notes. 

Charlie was tired and anguished and suddenly overwhelmingly… hungry. He just couldn’t fight it anymore. The hunger ate away at his feelings greedily, him collapsing to the floor as the dark haze re-took over his vision—leaving him in an empty heap of despair lying on the bloodsoaked wood next to Ranboo’s unmoving body.

[trifoliumrex]

Let's Burn Chapter 1

Master

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8

So Here’s the thing. You died. Like dead dead. But there’s good news. Turns out the multiverse is real and Suga and Jay are going to make sure it doesn't happen again. If Yoongi and Hobi don’t get in the way. Or Worse yet the troublesome Kim Namjoon. Can they keep you safe when you don’t even know who they are? Or will Namjoon finally get what he wants.

A reader x J-hope x Suga fic

But also reader x yoongi

But also Hobi, and Jay. the multiverse am I right?

Word Count: 5112

Tinder

Then, Your universe:

You sit outside of your neighbors door, eyes closed, legs sprawled out. Your eyes are squeezed shut and you're hoping it's Yoongi who comes home first. His brother was an asshole who would probably kick you out of the hallway maybe,just with a sharp word but maybe with a kick. No, you hope Yoongi will come home first from his classes and will let you into his room, maybe even play something for you.

Your day has been long. The shitty convenience store you work at, the one that didn't bother to really check just how old you were and was willing to pay you under the table if you kept that extra button unbuttoned, kept your hair in pigtails and called all your customers oppa, had been packed today and you had lost count of the hands that lingered to long on yours. Eyes that lingered even longer on the name tag on your chest.

Whatever. It was enough. Enough to add to your growing stash that would get you out of here and into a forgiving school. One that would accept your just barely to young age and ignore the lack of a diploma. You hear the steps coming off the stairs but keep your eyes shut. You know it's Yoongi by his steps alone, but you don't want to see the anger on his face when he sees the hateful bruise from your mom's latest fling. Don't want to see the helplessness that you feel mirrored back in the eyes of the person you care most about.

He kicks your foot. It's not exactly gentle but it doesn't exactly hurt. You hold out your hand and he takes it, hoisting you up. Your eyes remain shut and he makes a displeased noise. “Aren't you going to open your eyes?” He knows the answer before the question leaves his lips. His hands go to your uniform butting up the revealing thing trying to protect you from any eyes you refuse to look at.

He hates your new job. Hates the way you’ve started peering over your shoulder on your way home. On the days he has his piano lessons after school and can’t pick you up. You used to only do that in your apartments when your mom had people over. You shake your head. He touches the bruise forming on your face and even though you can’t see his expression darken you are pretty sure you can hear it. “No thank you. I've seen enough today. Will you play for me?”

He leads you into his apartment. He has to hold you very close. The living room is trashed and honestly he’s glad you have your eyes closed. He’s embarrassed but he’s long since given up on trying to keep it clean. At least his room is clean. It hadn't been so bad. When his parents had first passed, his brother Geumjae had tried. To be the parent and guardian his brother had needed but when he had started drinking he had gotten mean fast, and never really stopped being mean.

You almost slip on a beer can and he holds you up an arm around your waist. He presses a quick kiss to your cheek. Not even a real kiss, both of you too afraid to really cross that line. Neither of you were sure what would happen if you got caught, only that it wouldn't be good. How many nights had Yoongi heard through your adjoining wall as your mother berated you for being a slut. For trying to steal her boyfriends. Nevermind that you were a child, only just now having become legal. Yoongi didn't want his brother thinking about you at all. There had been one other girl he had dated, just one and Guemjae had taken great pleasure in fucking her in Yoongis’ bed. He had nightmares for weeks about it. Only in his dreams it had been you under him not her and it was worse than a betrayal because you always begged him to stop.

“What do you want to hear?” he asks, setting you down on the bench. It's an old upright grand that is too heavy to move and its weight has it trapped in the living room. He has to knock some trash to the floor before pushing back the cover. He loves when you are here. Everything he loves in the same place, it's not much really. Just the piano, really, the piano and of course you.

“Something happy?” you mutter leaning your head on his shoulder. You always ask him to play something happy. He starts to play and feels you relax into him. He is fairly certain he knows the second you open your eyes.

“Is this happy enough?” your arm snakes around his waist as a response and you make a little noise of assent. Yoongi smiles. It's a large smile and you snuggle closer into him. “Your eye. Work?” You go very still and he can feel you decide if you want to lie or not. He knows when you do. You know he knows but you just can’t force yourself to say what your mother says to you. Even if you know he hears it.

“No. She has a new boyfriend. He said I needed a daddy to teach me how to dress and when he grabbed at my shirt and I backed away" Yoongi's fingers paused for a half second. Faltering in a way only you or perhaps someone who knew music well would be able to pick up on.

“Do you have enough for a down payment yet? I'm on track for the scholarship. Just a few more months. I have to stay in the dorms for a year but then I’ll get a stipend for housing and I can help.” You hear the nerves in his voice.

“Just about. I have a place I'm looking at. I can look at it, well when you visit the school.”

“No!”

“No?”

“I need you there with me” You offer him a small smile and he returns it but you can see his own lie playing on his lips. You being here is bad, but he doesn't like the idea of you being there either. Outside of the university he’ll be at, it's rough out there. The gangs are bold and he doesn't like the idea of you going to check out an apartment by yourself. He’s already made you agree to either get a job on campus or just hang around until you find one.

“Ok, then we can go after. How does that sound? You know I might even have enough for us to get a room for the night. My mom might freak out, but she might also not notice and we could '' your thoughts are cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps. Yoongi's fingers stop on the keys. He can feel your posture stiffen. Yoongi knows you are afraid of him. Yoongi is afraid of him too. He watches to decide if you want to flee or not. At least here you have him.

“Yoongi how many times have I told you that I don't want to hear that shit! Save it for when you're little… oh hello Y/n” his eyes crawl up your legs, your short skirt showing off more than you're comfortable with but it lets you keep your job. You're glad at least you took your hair down, that Yoongi buttoned up your shirt for you. You know how much Yoongi hates it when his brother's attention is on you. Geumjae knows too. “Look at you all grown up.”

You shoot to your feet and give him a quick bow. “Hello Mr.Min” Yoongi gets to his feet standing just a little in front of you. He’s as tall as his brother, now a touch bigger. Maybe he certainly spends enough time at the gym. He’s still afraid though.

“Come on now baby, I'm not that much older than you. Why don’t you call me oppa hmm?” Your hand on the back of Yoongi's shirt tightens. You know you should just give him what he wants but you don't like the way he looks at you. “What happened to your eye? One of your momma's boy toys?”

“Yes” you say in a small voice. “I think he’s gone now I should leave now” Yoongi leads you to the door and the second you get within an arm's length of Geumjae you can smell the alcohol. His hand shoots out and grabs your wrist pulling you to him.

“I told you to call me oppa.”

“I'm sorry oppa” Yoongi wants to yank you back. The tears in your eyes are alarming. Neither of you are stupid enough to be under the illusion that doing that will have no consequences. Geumjae is the landlord and your mother has always been bad with money. In some ways it's nice. Your mom can buy time with blow jobs and you don't end up on the streets or worse with one of her boyfriends. Geumjae wipes away a tear and then throws you against the piano. You let out a yelp.

“I'm getting real tired of your shit attitude Yoongi. I'm in the mood to break something. You want me to hit her or that noisy fucking thing you call an instrument” Yoongi doesn't hesitate and points to the piano.

“Don't touch her!”

“Be a good girl for your oppa and don’t move now ok?”

“Ok oppa” you squeak out as he brings the bench down on the piano. He’s had enough of his brother having hope as of late. He’s still a minor though. And laying a hand on him is probably ill advised. He can wreck his future with this though. He might be talented but without practice? What hope would he have? He was supposed to be the successful one. He was supposed to be the one who was going places but caring for this brat had ruined him.

Your eyes lock with Yoongi, the only movement is your little flinches. He stops when he thinks the piano is beyond repair. Yoongi pulls you up and out the door. There's no plan. You just need to get out. You trail behind him to the park. He’s more upset then you have ever seen him and he sits you on the bench and paces in front of you.

“It's ruined,” he says finally. Your entire plan hinges on Yoongi getting that scholarship. Getting that stipend next year. Your savings will disappear without them and there is no way you can support both of you without it. Yoongi is supposed to get some of the apartment complex money but that won't be until next year only if his brother doesn't somehow cheat him out of it.

You reach for him and he lets you hold him. You don't say anything. When he walks you to your door you see just from his posture that he’s given up.

You don’t go to work the next day. You know your boss will make you pay for it. Clean the top shelves so anyone in the store can get an upskirt shot. Pose for pictures with the customers under the guise of store promotion. It doesn't matter. You go to the closest music store you can find. The clerk explains to you that the keyboards that you can afford aren't going to be as nice as the upright grand but that it would be enough to practice.

You ask if they can wrap it for you. The clerk notices just how young you are. He asks you hesitantly where you got the money. You give him a very watered down version of what happened. He wraps the keyboard in a newspaper. The best he can do. He slips in one of the cards from the women's shelter down the road. He hopes you’ll call.

You’re in your own clothes today. Ones that make you feel safe and hidden. Ones that make Yoongi stare but hardly anyone else. Cute but not displaying your body for everyone to take a piece. Yoongi comes home with a bloody nose still trickling from a fight. He planned on cleaning up before going to pick you up.

Here you are though. Nervous at his door looking like a fucking vision. You look up at him and the nerves melt away for a moment, all bright smiles. Then you see the blood and run over to him concerned. “Again?! Yoongi you promised me! No more fights!”

“Why aren't you at work?” he says ignoring your concern but enjoying the way your hands roam over him checking for any other injuries.

“I was busy” Yoongi frowned. He knows what your boss will have you do just as well as you. Fuck it though. If his life is over, he has a list of things that asshole has done to you. If it's all gone to shit he can at least make sure the creep can’t touch you, at least not for free. “I got you something.” he pulls away and frowns. You still had an apartment to save up for. You pull him over to the heavy bag and the newspaper covered box inside of it. He kneels in front of it and eyes you with suspicion. “Open it Yoongi”

He peels it back slowly and deliberately. So like him you can’t help but think. He sees the logo and stops looking up at you in shock. He knows how much this costs. The money and then on top of it what it would cost you. “No” his denial is weak and choked with emotions. “You have to take it back! You need to get out of here!”

“And I will, next year you’ll have your money right? And I can save back up. Yoongi, I love you.” He pulls you up and pushes you against the wall, his lips crashing against you. It shouldn't be you who makes sacrifices for him. It should be the other way around. You shove him off and at first he thinks he's over stepped he should have asked he should have. You giggle and wipe his blood off your face. Your first real kiss “Gross”

“Sorry”

“You like it?”

“You’re perfect” you blush under his praise and he kisses you against ignoring your little noise of displeasure at more of his blood on your face. “You're my perfect girl. I'll make it work ok? I’ll get you out of here I’ll” he mutters between kisses. You pull him and his new keyboards into your piano and wash the blood off your face. Just are you to each other? It's hard when you are everything to put a label on it.

Unlike his place yours is spotless. He’s never been able to get you to admit it but he’s sure that if you fail to clean that you suffer for it. He knows it's an outward reflection of the suffering you endure here but he can’t help but like this better. It reminds him of his own room, kept almost spotless. He prefers to be here whenever possible. Whenever your mother was out.

You bring a clean cloth out of the bathroom and start dabbing at his face. “You know you can’t fight in college right?” Yoongi scoffs and tries to take the rag away from you. Your hands don't move and he won't force you.

“That little shit Jungkook was running his mouth.” You scowl. You can guess what it was about. What would make Yoongi punch first and ask questions never? Jungkook had come into your shop and you didn’t want to think about how many souvenirs he had snapped on his phone.

“Are you ashamed of me?” He recoils. Looking up at you actually angry with you for the first time in maybe years.

“You know that's not true! I know you are doing everything you can to get us out of here!”

“But you don’t like it?”

“Neither do you!”

“Yeah, but…I don't try and fight Stupid Jeon Jungkook when he says shit to me.”

“Does he say anything to you? You tell me the second he does! You got that?!” He’ll break his arm. You frown. Your pretty Yoongi once again missing the point. You cross your arms over your chest until he looks a bit chastised. “He was saying shit about what he wanted to do to you. Not with you, to you. I can’t let that shit go.” his eyes are blazing. He can take the twirp in a fight. You both know that there are others who he can't ,like the one who did that to your face. Like the one who sleeps in the room next to his. It's at least starting to fade.

“I know you want to keep me safe but you can’t do anything to lose your scholarship ok? That means no fighting, no late night jobs no” his eyes narrow.

“You are still planning on working there? You can get a lower paying job that's safe and save up slower”

“No! The plans are still the same! You don’t work, just play and practice! I'll take care of the rest, then when you make it big, you can take care of me forever” you let him pull you into his lap. He puts his now clean face into your neck.

“I hate that they look at you. You have to promise. If anyone looks at you. Anyone makes you really feel unsafe, you’ll call? It's just an hour away by train.”

“I promise. Besides they can look” you slide his hands up your leg. “You're the only one who can touch me.”

Things at college seem to go fine. The two of you talk on the phone every day but on Friday it's for hours. He plays for you sometimes over the phone. Despite how well things are going with Yoongi at school however things at home are getting worse. You don't say anything. How could you? You can’t ruin this for him.

Your mother has stopped paying rent altogether though and Geumjae has all but moved into your apartment. You know you should feel worse for her, the marks he leaves on her skin but when has she ever prevented anyone from hurting you?

At least he doesn't hurt you.

He looks though. Especially when you get home from your job.

Yoongi notices of course, the shortened phone calls. The way you stop telling him about the awful men your mom is bringing home. He knew something was going on. He needs to get through the year though. To be able to provide for you. Is it any surprise that when you miss a weeks work of calls, calls that have been getting less and less frequent that he doesn't immediately notice.

He thinks maybe, maybe you are finally growing apart. He lets his calls go to your voicemail for a week before he takes the train back. You wouldn't do this to him. Not after everything you have given up for him.

He pounds on your door for what feels like hours before your mom shouts at him to just go away. She sounds nervous. Yoongi goes to his apartment and digs through his brother's things looking for the keys he knows his brother keeps in his room instead of in the office where they should be kept. There's no rhyme or reason to the keys. He grabs them all, a fistfull in each hand and it's still not all of them.

He wishes he had enough strength to just batter the door down. It takes him too long to find the right key and he can hear a whimpering. He hopes it is your mother. That her latest boyfriend has hurt her bad enough that she doesn't want to be seen. She looks fine. Afraid but fine.

“You shouldn't be here! She didn't call you just go back!” she says taking a step in front of your door. Yoongi’s hands clenched into fists. How the fuck would she know that. He looks around and spies your phone over by the couch. The room is dirty. Not filthy but not immaculate. He shoves her out of the way and here, this flimsy interior door, this he can break.

You had it locked. And when the door splinters open he hears you whimper in fear. There is a smell. He notices it the second he’s threw the threshold. Sickly sweet, putrid. Rot. there is a cloth stuck to your face. He's over to you quickly. Sitting on your bed unable to say anything a mute horror between the two of you.

You see his face and start to cry. The one eye he can see does anyway. “Yoongi” you whisper, reaching out for him. He wants to hold you to him but he can't. He peels back the cloth from your face eliciting a tiny sound of pain. This is what at one point was probably a slash that goes down your face over part of your chest. It's festered. What was the last time you called him?

The rot is coming from you. His wrist touches your head. Burning. You’re burning up. He takes out his phone and calls an ambulance. “He said I looked all grown up. Made me call him oppa again. He came to my room Yoongi. It tried to make him stop but he had a bottle” Yoongi pails. No. not him. He prays he’s misinterpreted.

Your mother pushes her way in and is screaming. Screaming at him to call off the ambulance screaming at you that you will ruin them all if you go to the hospital. You are limp in his arms by this point. She tries to reason with him that if he does this Geumjae will end up in jail or worse. Yoongi ignores her.

He loads you into the hospital and assures the EMTs that they will be along soon.

Then he waits.

Waits for Geumjae to come home.

He’s drunk. He’s always drunk. When Yoongi asks him what exactly he was thinking he laughs and tells his brother with a body like yours how could anyone be thinking anything else. Not that you were so pretty anymore. Yoongi flicks his lighter open.

If Geumjae had paid more attention, had been a touch less drunk maybe he would have noticed. The whole place reeked of alcohol. The lighter he flicks is a lighter their father gave to Yoongi. An old thing. But reliable. He stands and goes to the door locking the three of them in before returning to the couch. Yoongi drops it onto the couch where your mother sits too plastered herself to notice what's going on. She started drinking the second you left apparently not bothered by her unconscious daughter just that there might be repercussions.

Geumjae tries to open the door. Yoongi tackles him. They all deserve to burn together. Your mother for not getting you help, his brother for cutting you, and him for what ever else he had let happen to you. Of course he deserves this for not knowing. For being so pathetic.

He can't face you if you live. If you're permanently disfigured by his own brother, and if you die? Well better to be dead either way. He’d be lying if he said he didn't like the screams. Even his own.

Later, Your universe, not yet now:

You wake up months later. Confused and alone. For the first time truly alone.

At least you don't wake up with nothing. Yoongi left everything to you. When you hear that it nearly breaks you. It's worse than knowing your mother is dead or that the wound Geumjae left on your face will always be there.

The cop who is assigned to your case. An officer Kim, who you get the feeling you are supposed to think is a nice guy, just watches you wail. Watch your heart break and the pain nearly consume you under eyes that are as hungry as Geumjae’s had been. He waits until you quiet down to let you know, that somehow somehow Yoongi survived.

He hands you his card and lets you know that if Yoongi ever wakes up, and he makes it very clear he doubts he will then he will have further questions.

That was years ago.

It's been years since you last heard Yoongi voice, or saw his smile.

You feel guilty sometimes.

That in all that darkness you found your sunlight.

It was about six months after the incident that you met him. Your Hobi. The first time you had met him had been on one of your biweekly visits to the hospital. It wasn't the first time he had seen you. No he had seen you beg the man in the bed to wake. Early on when he had still been handcuffed. Hobi started talking to him too.

He was a dedicated nurse and it didn't take many meetings for you to realize he used to be a nurse on the children ward. You can only assume he was good at it. He was kind and patient and had a childlike exuberance of his own. What you liked best about him is his eyes never lingers on the twisted mess your face had become.

It's not that he doesn't see it. He does, and he can only imagine how beautiful you must have been before because you’re absolutely stunning now. He thinks he might have fallen for you in your first conversation.

By the third he definitely had.

By the fifth he had asked you out. You felt guilty at first. Told him no. after a year though. With no change and Yoongi moved to the long term care floor with no change you asked him out. You remember the day he nervously asked you to move in with him. He’s under no illusions that if the boy, man now, wakes up things between you will change but he doesn't care. He just wants you to be safe and your tiny apartment, in that shitty part of town that you and Yoongi have always dreamed of because it was still better than home, was just too far.

You tell him not yet and he say it's ok and sputters out that he loves you. You laugh and ask him if he’s sure. It's too soon. It was far too soon. When he confidently if a bit embarrassed says yes you tell him you love him too. How could you not. Hobi is good, and he's good for you. Encouraging you to go back to school if you want to help you study for entrance exams even when he comes home exhausted.

The first time the two of you are intimate, at your apartment. You get nervous anywhere else. You feel like someone's following you. Sometimes you see that cop. The one that keeps asking questions about Yoongi. About the scar on your face that you try to hide with makeup. You panic when you're done. Afraid of what you're not sure exactly but you ask him to leave. He kisses you gently and promises whatever you need. You wonder if it's the last time you’ll see him.

You wake up to flowers outside of your door and the key slipped under the door gap. He took it off your key chain fine with leaving, well not fine exactly, but willing if its what you needed, but unwilling to leave you with an unlocked door.

There's a killer on the loose after all. In your city. RM. He cuts out the eyelids of his victims and writes messages with their blood. Grizzly and frightening for sure but they are all single women who were drugged in the club. They killed the women in their sleep cycle. You hardly thought it was a threat to you. You didn't go out the clubs, anywhere where people would stare at your face. Hobi still makes it a point to try and walk you or drive you as many places as you would let him. To keep you safe. He was always a bit paranoid.

His paranoia is rewarded when he's stopped in his rounds and warned about what's going on in Yoongi's room. The look on your face was enough to draw concern from his coworkers who all knew how crazy he was about you.

When he goes to the room he sees the cop question you, cornering you in the hospital room Yoongi lays motionless in. It's the first time you see Hobi angry. He pulls him off of you and calls security. Insisting that that bullshit has no place in his hospital around his patients. You would be hard pressed to find an employee more well liked than him and he’s pulled out quickly.

He broaches the subject neither of you have even hinted at. What's happened to the man on the bed, and who hurt you. The story is painful, even years out, probably always will be. You haven't told the cops anything. You don't know if it will make it worse for Yoongi, when he wakes up. If he wakes up.

You want to ask him what to do. You don't have anyone else to ask. He knows if Yoongi wakes up it might be him you choose. He gives you the best advice he can. That story, the truth, would probably help him. He suggests that you go to the station however. He wants to keep officer Kim as far away from you as he can.

He doesn't like the way he only looks at your scar.

He walks you to the station. When you come out looking as shell shocked as when you first met he asks you what they said to you. When you stammer out the word slut and that they told you to be quiet, he very politely asks you to wait here. You hear him yell at the police. Hear him say some uncharacteristically rude words you didn't even know were in his vocabulary. It's the first time you have to bail anyone out of jail.

There's something funny about him, when you are sent back with officer Kim who has a distinctly smug face on. Hobi looks angry. He looks at Officer Kim like he recognizes him from more than there few interactions . He doesn't. But someone else who shares his eyes, Jay, Jay would always recognize Kim Namjoon.

Master

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8

[astaroth1357]

When MC Won’t Pick Up the Phone

Lucifer

Usually not one to jump to any conclusions. He’ll send a text and wait an hour or two… then send another one.

If the second text goes unread then he’s calling, though.

If the call goes unanswered THEN he’s starting to worry and getting his brothers on the case.

Lucifer: Have any of you seen MC? They aren't responding to my texts…

Mammon: Did you piss them off?

Satan: I bet he pissed them off.

Levi: He's acting like a needy girlfriend, lol!

Lucifer: Care to repeat that, Levi?

Levi: Nevermind

Beel: I saw the MC in the library before I left RAD.

Lucifer: Good, bring them here and I'll take you to Madame Scream's.

Beel: On it!

Belphie: Wow, he IS needy…

Lucifer: 😡😡😡

Mammon

Mammon is a text spammer, we all know this.

Any time he sends a message, the MC has a BARE MINIMUM of five minutes to respond, if he’s lonely not even that.

If the MC misses the deadline, then they get what’s coming to them.

Mammon: Oi, MC!

Mammon: MC?

Mammon: Hey pick up!

Mammon: Are ya busy?

Mammon: I want to go shoppin!

Mammon: MC??

Mammon: Ya worryin me!!

MC: Mammon, I was taking a shower for fuck’s sake!

Mammon: Oh.

Mammon: … Need any help getting dressed?

Levi

Lowkey cyberstalker?

It’s the jealousy mostly, poor boy gets so paranoid sometimes… 

If the MC isn’t responding to his messages then he’ll start checking all of their most used social accounts to try and see if they’re online or at least were active anywhere else.

If he finds them on somewhere else, he’ll send a message there but they’ll have a bit of explaining to do for not responding to his text (Thankfully he has a hard time staying mad at them so they can get let off pretty easy with just a few “I love you”s)

If he can’t find them active anywhere then he might just… call… them… But that’s a socially anxious person’s worst nightmare so that’s his last resort!

They better pick up or he’s mobilizing the navy to go find them... Abuse of power? What does that even mean? 

Satan

Satan can be kind of hard to keep track of himself so he's more forgiving.

If he can’t get ahold of MC, then he's more likely to assume that they’re just busy and give them a few hours to respond.

If they're actually busy, then he's very lax and doesn't mind if they're a little late.

If he gets worried, he'll ask around, but he tends to air on the side of more rational explanations for their silence than jumping to conclusions.

But if they're giving him some kind of silent treatment or just didn't feel like responding… then oh boy… 

A word to the wise, don't ignore Satan. He can skip their mind, but DON'T ignore him. He doesn't react to pettiness well…

Punishment will be in order. Take your warning now.

Asmo

Honestly, even worse than Mammon.

He'll tell you that text spam is tacky, but what Asmo does isn't much better.

If the MC doesn't respond to him in the time he likes, then he'll just start texting them things. Random things.

Asmo: MC~!

Asmo: I absolutely MUST tell you about this jacket I just saw in Magolish today!!

Asmo: It's just perfect for yours truly, you HAVE to see it!

Asmo: MC?

Asmo: Hello?

Asmo: MC, you're going to miss seeing me in my jacket!!

Asmo: I also have to tell you about what Simeon did today in class when Mammon tried to pick his pocket!

Asmo: He had that idiot in an arm lock so fast Baal hadn't finished his sentence!

Asmo: MC?

If it gets too bad, they'll start getting sent selfies of a sad Asmo looking like a lost puppy without their attention…

Asmo: I'm still waiting for you to see my jacket! 😠

He rarely holds their lapses in attention against them, but he starts getting actually worried then they have better have a good reason. 😤

Beel

Honestly, he's kind of the one who's hard to get ahold of. Between practices, workouts, and the fact that he HAS accidentally eaten his phone a couple times, Beel can take a bit to get back to someone...

He's extra understanding if the MC doesn't get his messages. Never mad at all. He honestly prefers to tell them things in person anyway so it works out.

… If he can find them that is. If he hasn't seen them all day and they aren't responding then you're going to get a worried Beel.

He'll send a few more messages, make a few calls, ask his brothers what's up, that sort of thing. If all else fails, he'll go through their laundry then use his nose to sniff them out like a bloodhound.

At that point, they better be locked in a tower or something or you'll have a very upset Beel. Not mad, just upset (which could honestly be worse... Don't worry him like that! 😣)

Belphie

Think that because he's dead to the world half the day, they get to be lazy with his texts? Wrong.

Brat of the highest caliber, if he wants to hear from them then he wants to hear from them NOW. Unfortunately, he's mostly awake during the weirdest times so good luck...

Belphie: MC?

Belphie: MC? Are you awake?

Belphie: I can’t sleep.

Belphie: MC?

Belphie: MC, I'm bored…

MC: Belphie, do you know what time it is…?

Belphie: Oh good, you're awake.

MC: No thanks to you…

Belphie: Would you like to go back to sleep? Me too.

Belphie: Come up to the attic, we can sleep there together.

MC: Goodnight Belphie.

Belphie: Wait MC

Belphie: … did you just turn your phone off again?

Belphie: No fair…

[stardustprompts]

bo burnham’s  inside   sentence starters 2.0 +  the inside outtakes change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw :  mental health ,  depression , suicidal thoughts ,  nsfw ,  language

‘and so today I’m gonna try just getting up, sitting down, going back to work.’

‘might not help but still it couldn’t hurt.’

‘I’m sorry I was gone.’

‘what the fuck is going on?’

‘I wanna help to leave this world better than I found it.’

‘the world is so fucked up.’

‘I self - reflected and I wanna be an agent of change.’

‘maybe I should just shut the fuck up ....  I’m bored.’

‘should I be joking at a time like this?’

‘that’s the deepest talk we’ve ever had.’

‘it’s similar to a constant state of sleep paralysis.’

‘don’t you know that the world is built with blood! and genocide and exploitation...’

‘don’t burden me with the responsibility of educating you. it’s incredibly exhausting.’

‘this isn’t about you. so either get with it, or get out of the fucking way!’

‘I hope you learned your lesson.’

‘I can’t believe it. it’s been a decade since you’ve been gone.’

‘still figuring out how to keep living without you.’

‘it’s got a little better but it’s still hard.’

‘can any single person shut the fuck up about any single thing for an hour? is that possible?’

‘the coffee is free, just like me. I’m an unpaid intern.’

‘I’m being a little pretentious.’

‘it’s pretty unlikable that I ... that I have this need, this desperate need, to be seen as, uh, intelligent.’

‘it’s a defense mechanism. I’m so worried that criticism will be levied against me that I levy it against myself before anyone else can.’

‘look at where you came from. look at you now.’

‘sexting. it isn’t sex, it’s the next best thing.’

‘we’ll talk dirty like we’re ancient egyptians.’

‘jesus fucking christ, I guess I never learn.’

‘I was a kid who was stuck in his room. there isn’t much more to say about it.’

‘there isn’t much more to say about it.’

‘when you’re a kid and you’re stuck in your room, you’ll do any old shit to get out of it.’

‘you went out to look for a reason to hide again.’

‘now come out with your hands up, we’ve got you surrounded.’

‘isn’t anybody going to hold me accountable?’

‘I tried to hide behind my childhood and that’s not okay. my actions are my own, I won’t explain them away.’

‘and I’m really fucking sorry.’

‘I turn thirty in less than a minute.’

‘I used to wake up with a smile, and go to bed at night with a dream. but now I’m turning thirty.’

‘oh fuck. how am I thirty?’

‘I used to make fun of the boomers. in retrospect, a bit too much.’

‘and now my stupid friends are having stupid children.’

‘I’ll be honest with you, didn’t love it.’

‘we shouldn’t be dead forever, yet. so let’s not, right?’

‘nevermind, I don’t wanna know.’

‘I thought it’d be over by now. but I got awhile to go.’

‘I’m holding the flashlight like a cop. why am I doing that?’

‘are you feeling what I’m feeling? I haven’t had a shower in the last nine days.’

‘staring at the ceiling and waiting for this feeling to go away. but it won’t go away.’

‘well, I feel like shit. feeling like a saggy , massive bag of shit.’

‘my current mental health is rapidly approaching, um. an ATL. which is, uh, an all time low. not ... not atlanta.’

‘I feel okay when I’m asleep.’

‘could I interest you in everything all of the time?’

‘you know, it wasn’t always like this.’

‘and if we stick together, who knows what we’ll do.’

‘it was always the plan, to put the world in your hand.’

‘and that has made me completely freak out.’

‘one should only engage with the outside world as one engages with a coal mine. suit up, gather what is needed, and return to the surface.’

‘in honor of the revolution it’s half - off at the gap.’

‘there it is again. that funny feeling.’

‘hey, what can ya say? we were overdue.’

‘but it’ll be over soon, just wait.’

‘I am not ... well.’

‘don’t be scared. don’t be shy. come on in, the water’s fine.’

‘pray for me.’

‘I got better.’

‘I’ve been hiding from the world and I need to reenter.’

‘you say the whole world’s ending, honey, it already did.’

‘you’re not going to slow it, heaven knows you tried.’

‘so this is how it ends.’

‘I’m slowly losing power.’

‘has it only been an hour? no, that can’t be right.’

‘am I going crazy? would I even know?’

‘oh shit. you’re really joking at a time like this?’

‘it’ll stop any day now.’

the inside outtakes 

‘am I dying? is this real? oh, right, it’s this again.’

‘is it gonna end? when?’ 

‘I’ll bother getting better when I bother getting dressed.’

‘I don’t know what’s happening.’

‘what the fuck is going on?’

‘I wanna be my dad in the 80′s.’

‘if I could be anybody dead or alive, I would want to be my dad in 1985.’

 ‘I just wanna feel good.’ 

‘can you teach me how to feel good?’

‘buy some jeans and find out why jeans are jeans.’

‘maybe i’ll feel better when I go to bed. maybe, but probably not.’

‘if your least favorite word is ‘moist’ and you tell people that ... I hate you.’ 

‘my least favorite word, by the way, is ‘injustice’.’ 

‘just google it. you’re an adult, you can figure it out.’ 

‘you know me and I know you.’ 

‘you’re a psycho. and I don’t want to fight so let’s just drop this, it’s not a big deal.’ 

‘for the record, you own me a dumpling. I mean it, I won’t forget. you owe me a dumpling or a dumpling equivalent.’

‘um, no, fuck that.’ 

‘shit like this brings the movement down.’ 

‘everyone’s a feminist until there is a spider around.’ 

‘I’m trying to make microwave popcorn, in the microwave.’

‘that’s kind of a wide range...’

‘I burnt my fingie...’

‘shit, I burned it.’

‘how’d I miss this button? there’s a button and the button says ‘popcorn’ on the microwave.’

‘I often wish I could just start over.’ 

‘I ain’t afraid of no spider.’ 

‘show yourself! you motherfucker! show yourself!’ 

‘it’s very upsetting that the future is in front of now, do y’know what I mean? like that we have to keep living from now, onward.’ 

‘this isn’t a joke, so don’t joke about it.’ 

‘not ideal, but we’ll make it work.’ 

‘just a little update; time is still ... passing.’ 

‘am I going crazy? maybe, maybe not.’

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Kassandra x Fem!Reader - The Most Peculiar Wingman

Can be found on AO3 here.

Summary: You recently moved into a new flat and you’re hearing some rather unusual sounds from your next-door neighbour’s abode. You’re worried the mysterious woman next door is involved in something dangerous. Kassandra is worried that you’re the landlord about to bust her for her lease violation.

(Sorry if you don’t like coffee and/or you speak fluent Greek.)

Word count: 2568

.

Damn, you’ve lucked out with your new flat. The area is pleasant, the décor is tasteful – the windowsills could use a bit more greenery, but you’ll get to that – and the letting agent wasn’t a dick. Zero hassle with bills, minimal scuffs on the walls…it’s bizarre how simple your moving process has been.

But nothing can be perfect, can it?

Over the few days you’ve lived in your new home, you noticed some rather disconcerting sounds coming from the apartment next door. Nothing that disrupts your sleep, thankfully, although your post-unpacking nap was interrupted by a very loud thud against the thin wall connecting the two flats. Thumps, crashes and very disgruntled cursing in a language you can’t quite place tend to crop up in quick succession once or twice a day. Today, though, the odd sounds seem to be omnipresent.

The strange symphony is starting to get alarming; you’re beginning to ponder if the seemingly perpetually angry woman next door is involved in violence…or, forbid, organised crime? That would certainly explain the forceful thuds and grumbling. God, what if she manages to rope you into her shenanigans? What if she is armed?

After a loud bang and an exasperated “oh, fuck you” reverberates into your apartment, you decide to investigate.

Anxiously, you pop on some slippers and step into the hall, locking the door behind you (‘I’m not about to get robbed less than a week after moving,’ you think to yourself, ‘Oh, shit, I need to get insurance…’). Stomach churning with speculation, you make the arduous four-metre trek to your neighbour’s door. Biting your lip, you rap your knuckles against the wood.

A chorus of panicked shuffling echoes through the door, causing your throat to tighten. Footsteps sprint from one side of the room to the other, the sound of shattering ceramic shrill against the heavy thudding. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” the woman hisses, muffled by the walls, followed by some shushing and the rattling of something metal. Who is this woman, what the fuck is she hiding, why am I doing this—

Suddenly, the door swings open, revealing…oh, wow.

Your neighbour is an amazon.

Flawless bronze skin, chocolate hair strewn into an unruly braid, tall and shredded with lean muscle. Her eyes are a gorgeous tawny brown, the split second of alarm disappearing from her gaze, replaced by a sparkle that makes your heart hammer against your chest. Very kissable lips upturn into a charming smile, bringing your attention to a small scar above her upper lip quirking adorably. A deeper scar sits on her nose, and the pang of anxiety returns, but your eyes need only flicker back to hers and it melts away.

“You’re not the landlord,” she says with a rich accent and curious lilt. Your cheeks feel warm.

“Uhm, hi.” You fiddle with your thumbs, mouth suddenly dry. “Sorry, I moved in a few days ago next door. I just heard some loud noises and was wondering if everything was alright?”

Lips curving furthermore, she braces her arms on the doorframe above and, fuck, are they nice arms. Sun-kissed, bulging against her white t-shirt, three gnarly rings cutting into her right bicep that just scream to be touched. Is this her distraction tactic?

“Oh, sorry about that. I hope I wasn’t too much of a disturbance?”

When you finally pry your eyes from her arms, a tiny smirk registers on her handsome face. Bashful, you stammer, “No, it’s fine. But, uh, what caused it, if I may ask?”

The woman cranes her neck to scan the hall. “Can you keep a secret?”

Mob boss? Arms dealer? Axe murderer?

Clearly, your nervous speculations are apparent, because her eyes widen slightly. “Don’t worry, lovely, it’s nothing dangerous. I just have a pet bird.”

Breathing a shaky sigh of relief, you run a hand through your hair. Just a bird. Just a bird. Her face relaxes back into a casual smile. A fresh wave of warmth caresses your cheeks at the name she gave you.

Chuckling, you joke, “Must be one big bird.”

“He’s…an eagle.”

You blink back your shock. “How on earth did you manage to get a pet eagle?”

She laughs, the melody warm and addictive. “Poor fucker followed me all the way from Kefalonia. I didn’t have it in me to say goodbye, even if it violates the lease.” Her tone is affectionate, despite her less-than-endearing name for the bird. Pushing back from the door frame – hands flexing wonderfully while she does so – she gestures for you to step in. “Come and meet him, if you’d like.”

Everything about this woman is so inviting, you can’t help but gravitate into her apartment.

“I don’t think I caught your name?” you ask shyly.

“Kassandra,” she replies, flipping the ‘r’ in her buttery accent. “And what can I call you?”

Anything you fucking want. “(Y/N) is fine,” you manage, debating whether her flat is hot or your face is akin to a beetroot.

“That’s a lovely name. Suits you perfectly,” she winks. She saunters over to a shelf with a blanket hastily thrown over it. You can’t help but observe her firm-looking behind through her jeans. Kassandra tugs away the blanket, revealing a large eagle sitting grumpily in a cage. It remains put when she unlocks the cage, standing almost defiantly.

“Don’t be like that, Ikaros,” she chastises. The eagle – Ikaros – begrudgingly flies out of his confines, perching atop the sofa in the middle of the open-plan room. “He’s gentle, I promise.” You’re doubtful, but he isn’t making any sudden moves.

“He just likes winding you up?”

“Loves it,” she grins. “He’s a little bitter I put him on a diet since he was getting a bit fat. That’s why he’s been throwing some tantrums lately.”

You smile as she scratches the top of his head before heading to the kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink?” Kassandra asks, giving you another heart-melting beam. “I have coffee, orange juice, I might have some tea somewhere—”

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.” She asks your preference and you state it, taking in the layout of her apartment. The place gave off a very homely, Mediterranean vibe, with warm colours and white furnishings. A few hand-painted ceramic vases were dotted about – maybe she did pottery – alongside some family photographs. Atop the dining table was a woven basket brimming with ripe fruits, as well as a laptop with a pile of messy papers next to it.

“Have a seat, get comfy,” she calls over the whirring of an expensive looking coffee machine. Shyly you take the chair by the unoccupied end of the dining table. Feeling nosy, you scan the documents by her laptop, but the handwriting was all in Greek.

A minute later, Kassandra joins you with a steaming mug in her hand. “Your coffee, madame,” she announces with a pantomimic bow, evoking a laugh.

“Merci,” you thank her. “How would I say that in Greek?”

“Efharistó,” she replies. You test the word hesitantly, wincing on the second syllable, making her laugh. “Not bad,” she chuckles.

“I butchered it.”

“Try it a little softer,” she smiles, lowering her voice, giving it a sensual cadence that made your head spin. Oh, she knows she’s attractive.

“Efharistó,” you border on whisper, gay little brain surging with the overwhelming instinct to do whatever she tells you.

“There we go!” The proud quirk of her lips is all you need to see.

Feeling your cheeks flush, you bring the coffee mug to your lips, hoping the steam from the beverage will help mask your fluster. You blow on the liquid and take a sip, immediately regretting the decision as you scorch your tastebuds, repressing the urge to hiss in favour of looking cool for the hot Grecian.

“Do you, um,” you start, ignoring the numbness of your tongue, “work from home?” You wave your hand at the paperwork by her seat.

“As often as my job lets me.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a museum curator,” Kassandra beams, evidently proud of her job. “A glorified history nerd who couldn’t be fucked with the extra academia, basically.” You snort against the mug, nearly spluttering coffee over her. Smooth.

“What time in history?” Her eyes sparkle at the question, passion shining through her irises.

“Mostly the classics, ancient Greece and Rome and all that. But I did my thesis on the evolution of weaponry.” You prop your chin up on your hand as she talks, eyes lazily focused on her lips. If not for the conviction in her tone, you would have zoned out and chased some daydream about kissing those lips. Kassandra reclines back in her chair. “Enough about me, though. Tell me about yourself.”

“You sounded really passionate, though. I don’t mind if you keep talking about your job.” God, you sound like a dizzy schoolgirl who’s hot for teacher. You scald yourself with another sip of coffee in reprimanding.

Kassandra’s eyes twinkle. “I don’t usually invite beautiful women into my home to ramble about cool swords.” You blush and set down your coffee.

The two of you talk for quite some time, getting to know each other, peppering in the occasional flirtatious remark. In her company, you somehow simultaneously feel comfortable and skittish. She’s so relaxed and easy-going, but her physique and seductive demeanour fills your stomach with butterflies.

An irritated squawk cut your conversation short.

Kassandra shoots Ikaros a look before turning back to you. “Sorry about him.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, really. Damn… What was I saying again?” you ask sheepishly.

Squawk.

“Nevermind, I was probably babbling anyway,” you dismiss, sipping on your now cold beverage.

Kassandra chuckles softly. “Don’t be silly, you have the voice of an angel. You could read me the dictionary and I’d still be interested.” She probably said this to every woman she took a liking to, but you can’t bring yourself to care, far too flustered and feeling, for once, special.

Squawk.

Her eye practically twitches in anger as Ikaros flies over to the windowsill, makes unwavering eye-contact with his owner, and shits on the wood.

Kassandra looks like she wants to be euthanised.

“My god,” she mutters as you burst out laughing. She awkwardly rubs the back of her neck and grimaces, mouth parted as if trying to form some kind of apology for her eagle’s behaviour.

“I’m guessing you’re used to being the only one doing the flustering?” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

Her disgraced expression shifted back to a playful one. “If I say yes, do I sound like a whore?”

Grinning, you shake your head. “A little cocky, perhaps.”

“I’ll take cocky.” She winks and gets up. “Your coffee is probably cold, can I get you a fresh one?”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m fine.”

“The finest,” she smirks.

“Real smooth,” you roll your eyes, smiling regardless.

Ikaros caws from the windowsill, as if mocking Kassandra’s advances. Once again, her effortless charm dissolves into a look of frustration. She grabs kitchen towels and a bottle of disinfectant from by the sink and walks over to the window, nudging the eagle so he’d move out of the way. “Maláka,” she groans, cleaning up the mess from the surface. “Μη μου το χαλάς αυτό,” she mutters to Ikaros, earning a confused look. Kassandra sighs. “Usually I wait until after the first date before introducing a beautiful lady to this little shit. That way people don’t immediately think I’m just a weird bird lesbian.”

Testing the waters, you remark, “I happen to quite fancy women with an affinity for animals.” You bite your lip and add, “And, well, you’re…very attractive.”

Smugly, Kassandra finishes disinfecting the windowsill and walks to the kitchen with a little more vigour, your compliment proving to be an ego boost.

Once again deprived of attention, Ikaros decides to flap over and join you at the table. Instinctively, you flinch as the large bird flies in your direction, but all he does is stare at you, trying to analyse the stranger in his home.

“Does – does he bite?” you ask, hesitantly standing up.

Kassandra discards the kitchen towel in the bin, washing her hands. “No, he’s very kind to everyone who isn’t me.” She flashes you a wicked grin. “I only bite when asked.”

Stammering, you choke on air, struggling to find a response. Ikaros gives her a disappointed look.

“Shit, too forward?”

You shake your head. “Not at all,” you blush. “I’ve just…never met anyone quite like you before.” Ikaros seemingly gives you a judgemental leer, and you swiftly find yourself adding, “I-in a good way, that is!”

“Oh?” Her brow is upturned, her interest piqued.

“It’s…exciting.” The eagle shuffles towards you and nuzzles your hand, apparently deciding you’re worthy of his affections. The dark feathers atop his head are surprisingly soft to touch. Smiling, you give his head a few pats, inhibitions to the wind when cute little coos vibrate from his throat. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“I think it’s adorable,” Kassandra says softly.

You look up. “Really?”

“Really.” She joins the two of you and plucks a damson from the fruit bowl, feeding it to Ikaros while you pet him. “You’re the loveliest person to have ever set foot in this building, that’s for sure.”

Ikaros cocks his head in agreement. His beady eyes meet yours, damson juice dribbling from his beak. Do it, he’s silently telling you.

Screw it, let’s shoot our shot.

You clear your throat, mustering up some courage. “Are you free next weekend?”

Kassandra beams amorously. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” she grins. “How does dinner sound?”

Fuck yes. “Really good,” you blurt out excitedly.

“There’s this great Persian restaurant a couple streets over. I’ll book us a table?”

You gasp, having seen the building on the drive when you were moving in. “The place with the garden and the pretty lights, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“Sounds amazing.” Red in the face and heart pounding, your eyes dart about the apartment, fearing that you’ll combust if you look at Kassandra any longer. They settle on Ikaros, who gently butts his head against your hand, almost like a fist-bump. “Well, uh, I have a home insurance company to ring up, so I should probably get going,” you stutter.

“I won’t keep you, then,” Kassandra says, a tinge of disappointment in her tone. Ikaros squawks sadly.

“Thank you for the coffee.”

“It was my pleasure. Thank you for staying,” she winks. The eagle coos in agreement. You give him one last pat before walking to the front door.

“Oh, before you leave, there is something you should know…” Kassandra calls, moving over to you. She delicately takes your hand, frying your brain, and leans down to your ear. You feel faint. Lowly, she whispers, “…Our Hermes guy likes to drop-kick our parcels.”

Snorting, you look up at her in disbelief. I mean, what was I expecting? A kiss? Get a grip, woman. Kassandra laughs at your expression. “Use the amazon locker down the road instead.”

“You’re amazing,” you murmur, grinning. “I’ll probably see you before next weekend, but bye, I guess?”

“Chaire,” she bids softly, opening the door for you.

When the door closes behind you, you let out a ragged breath, excitement coursing through your veins.

You are so glad you moved here.

.

( The Greek clause is meant to say "Don't blow this for me" but I used 5 different translators and all 5 came back with slightly different things and I sort of ip-dip-doo'd it and chose one at random...sorry. )

[starglow-xx]

hello! may i request headcanons for chuuya having a crush on someone who's dense? like he could ask them out in the most straightforward way possible and it would still go over their head?

yes, yes of course you may!

sorry this took so long! my computer was out of commission for abt a week (or two..??)

but this is also my birthday writing piece for chuuya!! (4/29/21) i even added a small drabble thingy in addition to the hcs for the occasion hehe

from where i am, it is about fifteen minutes past midnight so it’s officially chuuya day here!!

happy birthday chuuya i love you! you deserve the whole world and everyone is willing to fight tooth and nail to ensure your happiness! we love you! 💗💗

anyways, i hope you all enjoy this! i kinda had some writer’s block but it was still a lot of fun to write! there might be some mistakes, but i’ll scan over it again later. reader is gender neutral! have fun!

chuuya having a crush on a dense! reader

nakahara chuuya x gn! reader

im cackling somebody help him

he’s frustrated bc you can’t take a hint or a thousand but he can’t even be mad bc he’s whipped

“look at you all dressed up today, wanna go out later? my treat?”

“oh really? thanks chuuya-san! you’re such a nice friend. i’ll go invite the others right now, i’ll see you later!”

“...”

fast forward to later in the evening and he finds himself at a little restaurant with the black lizard + higuchi and akutagawa

sigh

in unison all of them go, “thank you for the meal chuuya-san!” (except aku and hirotsu are quieter & and gin just a nods hehe)

“no problem” (ꐦ ´͈ ᗨ `͈ )

gin only pats him on the back in sympathy

he spends a lot of time trying to think of ways to make it absolutely and undeniably clear that he has feelings for you

he always fails

“(y/n) i like you”

“i like you too chuuya-san”

“really?”

“mhm”

“t-then will you—”

“you’re a really great friend! and superior too”

“...nevermind”

“oh were you saying something?”

“nah, just forget about it”

tachihara is laughing in the corner of the corridor

dont worry, chuuya made sure to get back at him

chuuya’s been pinning after you for years and frankly, his failed attempts to woo you has lead everyone to the breaking point

and i mean everyone

yes, even aku

hell even dazai

but dazai also thinks it’s funny, so he doesn’t mind all that much

okay bye bye dazai-san this headcanon set isn’t abt you rn

PLEASE EVERYONE FEELS SO BAD FOR HIM

they knew even if he kissed you, you still might not get it

so they decided to help him

super secret mission get chuuya and (y/n) together is a go!

they’re still working on a proper mission name, don’t mind them

they had a super secret strategy meeting!

you can bet your ass that they nearly got nothing done

akutagawa & kaiji weren’t much help, neither was higuchi, mori, or elise

tachihara nearly got killed for a thoughtless comment

“just tell them chuuya-san!”

“i already fucking did you ass!”

gin, hirotsu, and kouyou were the most helpful !!

hirotsu and kouyou both agreed on the idea that chuuya should try courting with bouquets of flowers instead of flat out asking you bc they knew you found them pretty

(even if you don’t identify as a female, flowers are for everyone no matter gender or sexuality! so let’s normalize giving flowers to everyone <33 )

gin didn’t speak but she used cards to communicate

everyone knew that you weren’t stupid (you wouldn’t have survived in the mafia if you were) but they did know that you were only stupid when it came to all this lovey dovey stuff

i mean, if chuuya gave you flowers every so often, there’s no way that you wouldn’t piece it together at some point

right...??

but kouyou assured him that even though you wouldn’t get it right away, you’d appreciate the gestures and that he’ll stand out more

she even said that if someone gave her flowers, she would appreciate it, whether or not she reciprocated their feelings

it takes guts to be so up front with your feelings after all

gin and hirotsu only nodded with her explanation

once again, this only provoked a reaction out of tachihara

“what do you know gin? i get the old man and kouyou-san, they’re grown, but you? what do you know abt courting? or flowers? what are you a girl?”

akutagawa choked on his cough, higuchi on air, and on the other side of yokohoma at the ada, dazai is cackling

yes, dazai somehow placed a listening device onto chuuya’s hat and was listening in

don’t ask how, it’s dazai

“DAZAI GET YOUR BANDAGED ASS OFF THE COUCH AND STOP LAUGHING”

anyways

the next day, chuuya did what was barely discussed and for once, things actually started to look up

until they started look to down again

at first, it actually looked like you understood his intentions after he gave you a bouquet of flowers

literally everyone was leaning against the opposite hallway you two were in and then they got excited !!

especially chuuya !

but then your expression sort of changed...??

and then in their heads they simultaneously went, “oh no”

they knew that expression

it was very familiar when you tended to friend zone chuuya

but boy let me tell you what you said next made them facepalm and or make their jaws drop

“ah, so you really are friend zoning me huh chuuya-san; what a shame, i really did like you”

LEMME TELL YOU WHEN I SAY THAT CHUUYA WAS DISTRESSED I MEAN HE WAS DISTRESSED

you liked him??

him of all people??

he wasn’t complaining, no of course not, but he still couldn’t believe it

but that wasn’t what he was really focusing on right now

what in any form or language did it say he was friend zoning you?!

flower language apparently

chuuya chose to buy the bouquet of yellow roses, pink carnations, and yellow carnations bc he thought you would appreciate the brighter colors, and so that you’d remember them better (because remembering them, meant remembering him)

but ooh boy

altogether, they meant the exact opposite message he wanted to send

someone help him pls

“you see chuuya-san, yellow roses mean friendship, pink carnations mean gratitude, and yellow carnations mean rejection; sooo in a nutshell, these pretty much say ‘thank you for being my friend, but im rejecting you”

no one can tell if tachihara is crying or wheezing

and dazai is having the time of his life

yes, he started listening in on him again

and chuuya is just stunned

like speechless and unmoving stunned

is he just bad at this whole courting/dating thing?? it’s only been one day and of it and somehow he was the one doing the rejecting??

“thank you for the flowers chuuya-san, i’ll be going now; i’ll make sure to let this affect our friendship. i’ll see you tomorrow!”

you passed by the not so subtle group of people

“tachihara-kun..?? are you alright?”

just for context, he was leaning his forehead against the wall using his forearm

again, it was hard to tell whether he was crying or wheezing

“i-im okay (y/n)-san...i think c-chuuya-san has it worse than me”

“...okay..?”

BACK TO CHUUYA

he’s still frozen poor baby

but it’s okay bc after like 5 more seconds he’s chasing you down the hallway you were walking in

kouyou, with a knowing smile on her face, ushers everyone away towards the opposite direction

she received some whines (ahem, tachihara and mori) but silenced them by summoning golden demon

but it’s okay

if they run fast enough, they can see what happens through the security cameras

chuuya caught up with you and tried to explain everything but he was exhausted

emotionally, physically (bc since when did you walk that fast??), and generally just tired with the whole situation

he just wanted to call you his; was that too much to ask??

as explosive as he can be, he can be calm and collected too

and he really did try to be that way as he talked with you but it was very difficult at the moment

the dumbfounded and confused look on your face his face twitch with annoyance and his heart started beating faster bc god you were cute

BUT THATS BESIDES THE POINT RIGHT NOW

thank goodness after what seemed like years, you finally somewhat understood what happened

you didn’t understand completely but it was something

The two of you stood in the middle of the unusually empty hallway facing each other, you with the bouquet still in hand. It was quiet as you and Chuuya assessed the situation.

You looked at him skeptically and he stared right back you with his gorgeous blue eyes.

“...So you do like me Chuuya-san??”

“Yes”

“And you were trying to court me just now, not friend zone me??”

“Yes”

You got most of your questions out of the way, but there was something that you’ve been wondering about for quite a while.

“...So you’re not gay for Dazai-san??”

“Yes, im not wait—GAY FOR DAZAI?? THAT MACKEREL??”

Chuuya did a double take. What in heavens name made it seem like he liked that suicidal maniac?? Why would he choose him if he had you?

Like he would choose him anyways; or ever consider him as a possible romantic partner.

“Oh, so you are?”

“NO! I SAID I LIKED YOU DIDN’T I?”

“Well yeah, but I thought you liked Dazai-san too. As annoying as he is, he can be quite charming—”

He was out of patience at this point (nope definitely not because you were talking about Dazai who told you that?) and just decided to kiss you.

You immediately melted into the kiss and kissed him back with the same amount of love and feeling.

Letting the bouquet fall to the ground, you wrapped you arms around his neck and his put his on your lower back and brought you closer to him. After a few more moments, the two of you broke apart for air.

The two of you, slightly out of breath, leaned your foreheads against each other and just basked in each others presence.

Chuuya looked into your (e/c) eyes and asked you just a little bit above a whisper, “Now do you get my intentions and feeling?”

You blinked at him before breaking out into a grin, “Hmm I’m not sure; do you wanna do that again Chuuya?”

The red head only blinked back at you before rolling his eyes, a smile present on his handsome features, his heart fluttering at you using his name with the honorific.

“Dumbass”

Smiling cheekily at him, you pressed a kiss on his cheek and started dragging him towards the lobby to take a walk around the building perimeter, knowing that the two of you can’t be too far from work.

The way down to the lobby was mostly in comfortable silence until you said something that made Chuuya want to bash his head against the wall.

“You know, you could’ve just told me you liked me Chuuya. It’s not like I would’ve said no.”

Once again, as the rest of the more power mafia members watch from security cameras, it is hard to tell whether Tachihara is crying or wheezing of laughter.

omake !!

The two of you just started making your way around the building when suddenly a very familiar voice came from Chuuya’s prized hat.

“Chuuyaaaa!! It was about time you stopped being a chicken, Chibi!”

Removing his hat from his head, he started yelling at it not knowing exactly where the listening device was planted.

“TEME! HOW DID YOU—”

“And (y/n)! I would congratulate you, but I think I would rather offer you my condolences. Why him?! He’s just a slimy slug. OOH OOH how would you like to join me in a double suicide?! A shame it won’t be a lover’s suicide but it’ll annoy Chuuya so I think it’ll be worth it! ”

“YOU—”

“And please don’t kiss while I’m listening in. You made me lose my appetite! And it was such a shame! I was eating crab using Kunikida-kun’s money! Do you know what you’ve cost me?!”

“DAZAI YOU PIECE OF—”

“Ah! Kunikida-kun is here! I have to go!”

You can hear something is the background that vaguely sounds like, “DAZAI YOU WASTE OF BANDAGES STOP USING MY MONEY”

“DAZAI DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE IM NOT DONE WITH—”

*Click!*

The click sound from the hat revealed that Dazai disconnected.

Chuuya twitched and glared furiously at his signature hat hating that the voice he hated the most came out of it.

“Aww, I didn’t get to talk to Dazai-san”

Chuuya whipped his head towards you, a look of mock (or real) betrayal showing on his features.

You laughed at him before taking the hat out of his hands and placing it on his head.

He shyly looked away before muttering a thanks making you smile wider. Just as the two of you were about to start walking, a small explosion erupted from his hat; it was likely that Dazai made the listening device self destruct.

“DAZAI YOU BASTARDD”

At the Armed Detective Agency, a certain suicidal maniac hid from the wrath of his current partner as he thought about the wrath his old one.

“Hmmm I wonder if Chuuya would finally stop wearing his ugly hats if I blow all of them up...”

as always, reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3

writing belongs to me! please do not plagiarize! the reblog button is there for a reason