#Someone oughta shoot this guy

[sharp-tooths]

Me watching the og Trigun anime after starting trigun stampede 2 moths ago: oh gee those fucking cries sound so realistic and full of pain and hurt. You just dont get that kind of genuine quality very much in newer animes. I hope Stampede delivers the same quality

Me now, having just watched episode 11 and then rewatched it just to propperly process everything: SCREAMING AND CRYING THROWING UP KICKING MY LEGS SOBBING FUCKING BAWLING MY EYES OUT DYING VIOLENTLY SHAKING-

[wh0re43van]

Heart Shaped Box- (Warren Lipka X Reader)

Description: Your childhood best friend surprises you at work with a gift on Valentine’s Day.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none, unfortunately. (Besides weed use)

A/n: I was going to make this a longer fic with smut but I just really wanted to get this posted tonight 😭

Oldies Country tunes and static buzz from the outdated stereo as I restock the candies at the check out. I glance at the wooden analog clock above the exit; 9:00pm

“One more hour,” I sigh to myself as I trudge back to my stool behind the register. Working for my parents at their corner store is nice. It’s slow, I’ve known all of the regulars my whole life, and if I completely flunk out of college; at least I know I have a job. But something about sitting here alone on Valentine’s Day with the smell of stale (possibly mildewed) air and my Ma’s collection of taxidermy squirrels dressed up to look like the seven dwarves doesn’t seem fitting for a 19 year old girl. Especially since my parents went to Dollyworld for valentines day, leaving me completely alone. (Dollyworld is like Disneyland for people in Kentucky)

The rusted bells hanging above the door chime as cool air floods into the small store. I don’t bother looking up until the footsteps stop in front of me. My mood immediately lifts when I see a familiar face

“Hey, man! No date tonight?” I ask my best friend while he slips his lighter into his flannel pocket. I can smell the lingering smoke of a cigarette on his fingers as he reaches for a pack of gum on the display near my head. He flashes his dimples as he leans down onto the counter.

“Eh, it’s a stupid capitalistic holiday,” he shrugs as I reach down to grab him a pack of Newport 100s.

“Mmm okay Casanova,” I laugh as I take his cash. “So did you pick up from that new guy?” I ask excitedly when I remember that he was supposed to have picked up bud from out west.

“Mhm,” Warren smiles as he pops a piece of gum into his mouth. “That’s why I’m here, nerd. Let’s go spark,” he says as he turns on his heels.

“Warren, I can’t. I still have almost an hour until I can close,” I frown at the boy who’s slowly stepping towards the door.

“Oh, come on. Your folks are out of town, they’ll never know,” he smirks as he rests a hand on the door handle. I bite my lip, looking around the store, then back at Warren.

‘He’s right. I mean it is a holiday, after all, Most places close early on holidays,’ I look at Warren and do my best to fight back a smile. He looks at me with a shit eating grin, knowing I can’t say no to him.

“Give me 5 minutes to lock up,” I giggle as I pull the cash drawer out.

•

•

I closed the store faster (and worse) than I ever have. Within 5 minutes I’m hopping into the passenger seat of Warrens car. The familiar scent of stale smoke hits me in the face as I settle into my seat.

I shake the few snow flakes that found their way into my hair out as I turn all the heat vents towards me.

“Someone oughta’ shoot that groundhog for lying to us,” I joke as I rub my hands together hoping to get some warmth from the friction.

“Here, this will warm you up,” Warren laughs, fighting back a cough as he hands me the joint. His voice comes out raspy as the smoke rolls out of his mouth. I take the paper from his hand that’s cast in a yellow haze from the dim light shining from the side of the store.

As I take a hit from the joint I lean back in the seat before exhaling. The smoke tastes piney and almost a bit floral as it fills my lungs. After coughing so hard that I drool a litttle, my muscles relax almost instantly as the buzz fills my body.

“Damn, this really is good shit,” I laugh with my scratchy voice as I accept the drink warren has offered to me.

“Oh good. I’m glad you like it,” he smiles before twisting around his seat, reaching into the back. As he scrummages around his car, I take another hit.

“Dude, what are you-“I begin to question the boy but he cuts me off.

“Here it is!” He exclaims, before sitting back properly in his seat with a red heart shaped box in one hand and a mixed CD in the other. I quirk an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. “Uh, happy Valentine’s Day, er, whatever,” he says with a small laugh, handing me the box. “I know I said that it’s stupid but, uh, ya know you’re a good friend or some shit,” he mutters with lidded eyes as he sets the red box in my lap. I can’t help but giggle at his awkwardness.

“Oh! Uh, thanks dude! I didn’t know we were doing presents or I would have gotten you something,” I say as I focus my attention on the red box.

“Nah don’t worry about it. Open it,” my best friend nudges me, seemingly very excited about his gift for me. I side eye him before handing him the joint so I can pop the box open.

I Take off the lid to reveal the expected assortment of cheap chocolates, but some of the spots of have been replaced with nugs. I look at Warren with a shocked smile and droopy eyes.

“Wow,” I laugh, trying to think of something to say. The THC in my system makes it a bit difficult to find something genuine to say to this unexpected kind gesture. “You really know what a girl wants,” I nudge him as I pop a piece of chocolate into my mouth. Warren chuckles as he inserts the burnt CD into his stereo.

“Yeah well I got hungry on the ride over here… figured I had to fill the empty spaces with something,” he teases. I laugh as I lay back into my seat. My ears perk up when I hear the intro to ‘November Rain’ by Guns N’ Roses. I lazily turn my head to quirk an eyebrow at Warren who looks almost nervous.

“You hate Guns N’ Roses,” I say with a small, confused smile, awaiting him to offer an explanation as to why he’s playing a band that he constantly complains has ‘sold out’. Warren let’s out a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, uh, I do…” he looks away as he scratches the back of his neck. “But this is the song that was playing when the principal chased me around the gym for spiking the punch at our 8th grade dance, remember?” He explains, finally mustering up the courage to meet my eyes at the end. A laugh bubbles up through my chest as the memory comes flooding back to me. Warren had seen some kids do it in a movie, so naturally the 13 year old boy thought it would be brilliant to dump fireball into the fruit punch.

“Oh my god I forgot about that!” I wheeze, laughing so hard at this point that tears are coming from my eyes. “You got suspended for a month because you were convinced that ‘the cinnamon would complement the tropical flavor,’” I shake my head, finally catching my breath after my fit of laughter. As I wipe the tears from my cheeks, I notice Warren just staring at me with a goofy grin. There’s a glint of something in his eyes that I just can’t quite put my finger on… admiration, maybe.

“Yeah I was pretty stupid,” he laughs as he relights the joint. “But don’t forget that while he the principal was chasing me, you laughed so hard you pissed yourself,” Warren challenges as he hands me the spliff. My jaw drops before I slap him on the arm in mock defense.

“Hey I almost pissed myself. A little bit running down your leg doesn’t count,” I laugh as I blow the smoke out, watching it ricochet off the foggy windshield.

“Sure whatever,” Warren playfully rolls his eyes.

The conversation goes silent for a moment and when I look back at Warren, he has a more serious expression on his face. “I, uh, I think about that night a lot. I remember seeing you for the first time with your hair and makeup done, wearing that JCPenny dress that you hated but your mom forced you to wear… I remember thinking how beautiful you looked,” Warren says while he’s laying back in his seat, gazing through bloodshot eyes up at the roof of his car.

“Yeah that dress was the worst,” I say with a light laugh as I take a sip of his water. “I remember watching our moms hold you down and plucking your little unibrow before the dance. You screamed like a little girl and your forehead was red in all the pictures,” I laugh fondly at the memory. Warren scoffs, looking over at me.

“Woah that’s low. I compliment you and you bring up the most scarring moment of my life,” he snickers. “Uhm seriously though,Y/n. I’m, uh, really happy that you’re in my life,” his tone drops to a more serious one again.

‘What the hell is his deal?’ I think to myself in a moment of silence as ‘November rain’ continues to play in the background.

“God this song is long,” I sigh, furrowing my brows. I’ve completely forgotten what we were talking about, my mind clouded over with this extremely strong weed.

Judging by Warren’s huff and shuffle in his seat, I don’t think that he was pleased with my response. Then it clicks. The chocolates, the mixed CD, the heart to heart talk that he’s trying desperately to make work even though I’m stoned out of my mind, the fact that it’s Valentine’s Day.

“Are… are you flirting with me?” I ask, almost positive that that’s what’s happening, but still doubting myself. A large part of me is hoping that I’m right- larger than I’d like to admit.

“I’m fucking trying!” Warren laughs, his cheeks going red. I look at my best friend, seeing the handsome man that he’s growing into. A single moon beam shines from the sunroof, reflecting a sparkle in his ink pool eyes and illuminating his unkempt curls that frame his face. The car is filled with nothing but a long guitar solo as I get lost in my admiration for the boy.  I didn’t notice how uneasy my silence was making him. “But if this is weird for you-“  Warren looks away, awkwardly scratching the stubble on the side of his face.

“Then kiss me,” I say simply, interrupting him. Warren Looks at me as if his eyes are going to pop out of his skull.

“What?” He asks, shaking his head, obviously unsure if he heard me correctly.

“Kiss me,” I shrug, not elaborating anymore. Warren stares at me like a deer in headlights. I roll my eyes, then lean over the console. I place my hand behind his neck, pushing his lips against mine. It’s a small, sweet kiss but it still fills my stomach with butterflies. I pull away, leaving my face just inches from Warrens. He’s still just staring blankly but a small smile creeps onto his face.

“Spencer owes me so much money,” he laughs and then as If a switch flipped, he places his finger under my chin, then goes back in for another kiss. I’m shocked that he takes the lead this time, moving his mouth against mine in a heated exchange.

Warrens hands make their way down to my hips, holding me as if I could slip away at any second.

“Come here,” Warren demands against my lips, his voice laced with lust as he begins to lift me over the center console onto his lap. His tone makes my stomach flip, but I force myself to pull away.

“Warren, I’m extremely into this, but I don’t really want our first time to be in the parking lot of my family’s corner store,” I explain as I catch my breath, resting my hand on his thigh. The disappointment is evident on Warrens face, but he attempts to hide it.

“Yeah, no. I get it,” he laughs, running his hand through his hair. “I can die happy now honestly. I’ve been waiting to kiss you for seven years. I can wait another-” he begins to ramble- something he often does when he’s nervous.

“My parents aren’t home,” I interrupt with a mischievous grin. Warrens eyes widen.

“You mean-“ he asks as if he can’t believe what I just said.

“Yes, dumbass,” I nod my head, biting back a laugh. With that, Warren throws his car in reverse, whipping out of the parking lot as if the cops just pulled up. I attempt to scold him through my eruption of laughter as he jostles me around in the car.

[evilfloralfoolery]

Daggers and Deception- Part 5

Plotfuckers, ahoy! Shit is about to get weird.

**If you enjoy my work or the work of my fellow plotfuckers, please comment and/or reblog. We need and appreciate the support! Likes are appreciated, but wordfuckers need words, too. Commentary is VERY important to us! Most of us do this for free and this is all we ask of you. Thank you!!**

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Three plates of lasagna and barely passable bath later, Grimm has managed to make himself a drowsy mess who doesn't even bother to comb his unruly mane into submission before face-planting on to the spacious bed.  If he'd been poisoned, at least he'd die clean and full. 

The wound has not yet begun to throb at level 10 with his activity level and he takes the opportunity to slip deeper into relaxation, something he hasn't felt in a good three days since the damn shooting fiasco.  What had happened to that asshole, anyway?  Supposedly, Ace had shot him, but no one could find the bastard afterwards.  Blood on concrete with a trail that led to nowhere and an empty jacket at the end of an alleyway was all that had been left.  It was some weird, cryptic shit.  Bleeding men didn’t just vanish into thin air.  He’d had help somehow.  Someone must have been waiting somewhere.  They’d missed it.  And that was probably what bothered Grimm the most.  He didn’t just “miss” things.  Aside from his father, Grimm was possibly the most observant gun-toting asshole out there.  Nothing escaped his scrutiny.  Nothing. 

And then, there was the matter of not finding a weapon at the scene.  Ace claimed he’d shot the guy in the spine, dead center.  Just how he’d held onto a gun, ran, and then consequently escaped didn’t add up.  Maybe Ace should’ve shot him again.

From the opposite end of the bedroom, curtains flitter in the cold night air, but he can't be bothered to get up and close the window just yet.  He'd start sneezing his ass off eventually and that might motivate him to actually do something about it.  Maybe.  For now, he'd deal.  Cold weather may not agree with his sinuses, but it sure agreed with the rest of his body.  Nice not to be basted in sweat for once. 

But the lamp is another story.  The light from beneath the shade is a dull headache instigation and he manages to pull the cord to shut it off before flopping back atop the sheets with a sigh.  It'd be great if his neighbor would play some Beethoven or some shit, but he hasn't heard a peep out of the guy since before his bath.  Either he was off throwing knives at trees again or he'd sneezed himself into a coma or something.  Whatever the reason, it was quiet.  Too damn quiet.

And that shit was making him uneasy.  He reaches for his phone and taps the side, but gets a red flash of a battery light instead.

"Well, fuck you, too," he mumbles. 

Better get up and charge it.  Never know when Max might call for him for whatever reason.  Some rookie might do something stupid.  Or some seasoned professional. 

He struggles into a sitting position and fumbles for the cord on the lamp again, cursing a blue streak when the little fucker decides to break off in his hand instead of turn on the goddamn light. 

Perfect. Dead phone, dead lamp, bum arm.  That oughta make fumbling around in the dark shitloads of fun. 

His fingers find the edge of the mattress as his vision adjusts to the black-as-hell room and he swings his legs over the side, bare feet hitting the wood floor.  One step towards the wall.  The outline of the wingback chair is within reach, the moon finally emerging from behind the clouds to illuminate the room enough for decent sight.

He takes a step towards the armoire near the bedroom door, reaches out into the moonlit darkness and freezes in place. 

Something isn't . . . . something . . .

Just beyond his reach is a slab of darkness, an inky black that's ten times blacker than black should have any business being. Grimm blinks.  Squints into the space.  It's a shadow.  A trick of light.  No?

Mother fucker, it's a person.

His breath catches and he snatches the Glock from the nightstand, aiming it into the darkness with his good arm.

"I don't know who's there, but if you're hurtin' for a bullet in your ass, you're gonna get it.” His voice drops into the lowest end of a serious growl.

Somewhere close to him, the darkness growls back. 

A chill claws its way up his spine.  What in the name of fuck?

"How'd you get in here . . . " Grimm says more to himself than to whoever is lurking there in the damn corner.

Or whatever. 

A low, almost inhumane chuckle echoes from somewhere near the bed now.  Or the armoire.  Or the dresser?  Who the fuck chuckles in stereo like that?  

And that's enough of this shit.

Grimm lunges forward, but meets only empty air as the inky blackness dissipates into nothingness.  Upon the nightstand, the lamp flickers to life and the phone in his back pocket vibrates.

He jerks it out of his pocket and taps the side button, staring when the thing lights up and comes back on.  Full battery power. Like nothing had happened.  

Yeah, no.  Nope. Not today, Satan. 

Shoving the phone back into his pocket, he slips his holster over his shoulders so the gun has a better place to rest.  Always felt more comfortable with it that way.  He’s just shoved the 19X into place when a knock at the front door sounds, brisk and insistent.

Goddamn it, he’s way too jumpy for this shit.  And Grimm is never “jumpy.” 

"Calm the fuck down, I'm coming," he barks and stalks down the hall to front door where he takes a moment to peer through the little peephole thing like a smart person. 

Outside in the hallway, his neighbor is waiting sans glasses, his long mane of silver waves spilling over his shoulders, his gaze steady and expectant.  

At midnight.  Okay, then.  

Grimm unlatches the door and cracks it to loosen the useless chain before opening it up. 

Indigo's demeanor is calm, but something in his gaze is sharp and intense, the man's eyes a damn near impossible shade of vibrant aqua. Grimm leans against the door frame and tilts his head.

"Something wrong?"

Indigo glances over his shoulder for a fleeting instant before meeting his gaze.

"Have you left your window open perchance?"

What the fuck kind of question is that?  Grimm scratches the back of his head with his free hand in a lazy rub of fingers.

"I might've," he says.  "What's it to you?"

"The heating unit in this building is quite unstable," Indigo says.  "If it runs all evening due to such a thing, it could pose a fire hazard."

Come the fuck on.

Grimm attempts to fold his arms before realizing his shoulder is gonna fucking scream, which would ruin his tall, imposing judgment pose, but whatever.  He settles for a downward glance and the cocking of an eyebrow instead.

"That's some pretty bullshit you just spouted," he says.  "You wanna tell me why you're really here?"

"The window, Grimm," Indigo says.  "Have you left it unattended?"

Obviously.  It's not like he's standing in front of it all damn day.

"Look," Grimm says.  "I don't know what the fuck your problem is, but---"

Without so much as a word, Indigo barges his way in and walks with a purposeful stride towards his bedroom, leaving Grimm gaping in his wake. Who the hell did this guy think he was?  

"Hey, just a goddamn minute, buddy!"  Grimm storms after him.  Sort of.  It's suddenly really damn difficult to walk, like his feet are anchors instead of flesh and bone. He struggles against what feels like imaginary mud.  Cement.  Some shit.  

Was he high?  No, he hadn’t taken anyth---

“What’d you put in that lasagna, huh??”  

Indigo appears in the hallway near his bedroom, nudging the door shut with his foot.  “If I had the intent to poison or drug you, the effect would have been instant.” 

Calmly.  Like he’s done this crap before or something.  But at least whatever weird struggle he’d been caught up in was over.  Walking was possible now and he wastes no time in stomping over to where Indigo still stands, intending to adopt a hardline stance, but yet again, the bum arm fucks that up.  Hard to look intimidating with your hand on your damn hip. 

“You didn’t come over here to close my fucking window,” Grimm says.

“Except that this is exactly what I have done,” Indigo counters.  

Grimm narrows his eyes before taking a peek inside the bedroom where sure enough, the window is shut, latched, and the curtains are drawn.  

“I suggest you leave it be, lest you burn down the entire estate.”

The guy is telling the truth, but not entirely.  Grimm can feel that much.  His built-in bullshit detector is on high alert, but the half-cocked truth is a pretty good foil.  And what’s more convincing is that Indigo fully believes in the weight of his words.  He could probably pass a polygraph with that kind of steely calm.

“So,” Grimm begins, scratching at the stubble on his chin.  “You knew my window was open and you felt like it was sworn duty to come over here and tell me to close the fucker because the place might go up in flames.”

“Correct,” Indigo says.

“Uh huh.”  Grimm tilts his head.  “And how’d you know my window was open? You can’t see that from your place.”  

“It has been open since this afternoon,” Indigo says. He levels his stare at Grimm with a studious sternness that could rival an FBI agent. “Surely you recall watching me from your vantage point near the edge of the wall.”

Grimm opens his mouth.  Closes it. 

 Well, fuck.  

He didn’t think the guy could see him from all the way up there, much less know what he was looking at.  

“I assumed that no one had told you to close the windows, so I figured I had best tell you myself,” Indigo continues.  “Now, if you will excuse me, the hour has grown late and I must retire.”

“Gonna cartwheel across the yard some more in the morning?”  Grimm says.  “Maybe throw some more knives at shit?”

Indigo’s posture stiffens almost imperceptibly, but his expression betrays nothing.  “Goodnight, Grimm.”  

For a moment, Grimm considers grabbing his upper arm to detain him or at least blocking the door with his body, but Indigo has excused himself already and made it into the hallway before Grimm can so much as blink.  What the ---- he hadn’t even seen the guy move, much less walk the fuck out of the door.

The sound of a creaking door clicking shut followed by the turn of a deadbolt is his only reply.  

“I ain’t done talkin’ to you!” Grimm half-shouts into the hallway.

(TBC....)

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

heya, i have to wake up in three hours but! here's another lil human au snippet! ft. lightly implied Laughingstock! disclaimer i am so so tired so don't come at me for typos or strangely worded sentences or missing info <3

~

Before heading home, Eddie swings by a charming little store he’s been to once or twice before. He usually goes to the chain store by his house, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with the hustle and bustle and the endless aisles. This little store is quiet, nice, and strangely has everything anyone could need. 

The lot is mostly empty at this hour, so Eddie claims a spot right at the front. As with the other times, the windows are littered with displays and stickers - half off on this, sale on that. Eddie enters Howdy’s Place with the chime of the door’s shopkeeper’s bell. He’ll get what he needs and get out, quick and easy and peacefu-

Boisterous laughter slams into Eddie like a hammer, so sudden that he jumps in place. An employee stocking cans nearby glances weirdly at him. Eddie clears his throat and hurries into the nearest aisle as the laughter tapers off. The silence barely lasts a second before loud chatter starts up. It’s too fast and muffled for Eddie to understand, but he can pick out two distinct voices - one deep, one less so but still decidedly masculine. 

Eddie tries to tune it out as he gathers what he needs. Toothpaste, some paper towels, shampoo. For the hell of it, he nabs a box of classic bran muffins from the spacious food section. He lingers for a moment, enjoying how far-away the conversation seems at the other corner of the store. Unfortunately, theft is illegal, so Eddie is forced to move towards the noise.

A strange thing about the store - it’s a combination general store, antique shop, and diner, complete with a miniature gift shop separating the two. One long checkout counter stretches from the open store area, behind the gift shop, and into the diner, where the conversation is coming from. An interesting setup, but an understandable one. It allows anyone behind the counter to move fluidly between customers and sections.

As Eddie approaches, the conversation becomes slightly clearer. 

“-said, no wonder you didn’t get her number!” the deeper voice barks, and the two dissolve into that almost-too-loud laughter again. 

As it tapers off, the other voice says, “Sounds like a real charmer! But really, you oughta be careful, Barn. One of these days someone’s gonna throw a right hook at ya.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. A transatlantic accent? He hasn’t heard that anywhere outside of real old movies and a queen he once knew. It sounds natural too, like the man was born to sound like he belongs on a 1920s radio show. It nudges something in the back of Eddie’s mind. He’s started to get really sick of that nudge.

“Oh, this guy did.”

“No kidding? I don’t see a shiner.”

“Well, yeah. I went left.”

Both of them laugh again, and Eddie feels a tiny tug at the corner of his mouth. That wasn’t funny enough to garner an actual laugh in his opinion, but it wasn’t unfunny. 

Eddie steps up to the counter and quietly puts his acquired items on it, not wanting to interrupt. He chances a glance to the side - walking space in front of the counter’s length lets him see right down into the diner.

A large man with dyed-blue hair and an interesting fashion sense is at the bar, talking to an employee leaning against the other side. The employee doesn’t really catch Eddie’s gaze, but the other man… Eddie swears he’s seen him before. He studies him from the corner of his eye, not wanting to be rude but unable to mind his business. 

“Our bouncer didn’t even get a chance at the action - the idiot knocked himself out tryin’ a second swing!” The customer says. His deep voice, wavering with humor, only adds to the sense of familiarity. Metal glints in his right ear. Eddie knows this man from somewhere.

The employee shakes his head, tutting. His busy hands polish a vintage pitcher. “I swear, you get all the crazies.”

“Makes for a good story, though.” The customer takes a sip from his tall milkshake and scoffs. “Though if it wasn’t all well-ending, amusing bull, I doubt I’d be so tolerant.”

Minutes drag by as the two keep talking. Eddie goes from patiently waiting to awkwardly trying to get the employees attention. If only there was someone else behind the counter, but the only other staff member is elsewhere, likely still stocking shelves. 

The two men are too absorbed in their little world, even though both are facing Eddie’s way. The customer has both elbows on the counter, one of them bent to prop up his chin. The employee has his hip leaned against the edge as they chat. They’re obviously very familiar with each other, and clearly deeply enjoy each other's company. 

Still - and Eddie is sorry to say, but it’s bad customer service. He’s not in a rush, but he’d still like to be on his way home. He could be fishing out the complex keys right now. He checks his phone - he’s been here for nearly fifteen minutes. Picking out the items took less than five. 

Eddie sighs, staring at the various cigarette packs displayed behind the counter. He’s never seen the appeal in smoking, but as the laughter starts up again, he almost wishes he did. He’s going to treat himself to a very long shower once he gets home. 

The store’s other employee walks behind the counter, carrying a box. Eddie lights up. Finally - she pointedly clears her throat and heads into the back. 

The constant conversation stalls for the barest moment, and he looks over. The customer grins at him for a second - lord he’s handsome - before turning that grin towards his friend.

“You’re losin’ your touch, Howds,” he teases, bringing his shake straw to his lips.

“I resent that statement. You’re just distracting.”

“Lil’ me? Distracting? C’mon, you can just tell me I’m pretty to my face. I’ll take it like a champ, I swear!”

“Ha, good try.” The employee sets the pitcher down and starts to mosey in Eddie’s direction. “Your ego is big enough for the both of us as is. One more compliment and your head’ll pop like a balloon.”

“Well, given that most balloons don’t really pop, they just kinda deflate slowly-”

“Sorry for the wait!” the employee says loudly in a glaringly obvious customer service tone. He stops in front of Eddie with a cardboard smile. At the other end of the counter, the familiar man snickers and hides his grin behind his drink. “I trust you found everything you did - and didn’t! - need.”

Eddie just stares up at him for a moment. At six-one, Eddie hasn’t felt small in a very long time. He usually stands at least a full inch above other people. This employee - Howdy, his name tag states - has several more on him.

“Uh, y-yes, I uh, I did,” Eddie stammers, glancing at his items. 

“Wonderful! And again, my sincerest apologies for the delay. My friend makes a game out of keeping me from my job.” Howdy shoots his ‘friend’ a glare with enough heat in it to make an ice cube sweat. 

“No worries.”

Howdy scans the items at an almost frightening speed. Beep, into a paper bag. Beep, in. Beep, beep - “Oh, no.”

“What?” Eddie says, dread plucking at his ribs as Howdy holds the bran muffins and shakes his head. “Is there somethin’ wrong?”

“Indeed there is! You’re making a mistake with these. They’re absolutely horrible, I tell ya - and bad for you, too!” Howdy tuts and puts the box to the side. “No, no, you don’t want those.”

“I… don’t?”

“Not if you knew better! Lucky for you, I’m here to set you straight. What you need is-” he snaps his fingers, “Barnaby, be a pal and-”

“Already on it,” ‘Barnaby’ says, appearing next to Eddie.

If Eddie weren’t already paralyzed, he’d jump right out of his skin from how Barnaby towers over him. He has to be a scant inch or so shorter than Howdy, but he still makes Eddie feel tiny. Unfortunately, Barnaby is even more handsome up close. 

“Here ya go.” Barnaby hands a plastic container to Howdy and taps it, smiling lazily down at Eddie. “I’d take his advice on this one. Those bran-named muffins may sound fancy, but they’re pretty crumby! You want muffins of quality. Real breadwinners!

Eddie can’t help a soft laugh. “Breadwinners, heh, that’s a good one.”

“Are you selling these or am I?” Howdy says, raising a bushy eyebrow. 

“Hey, I’m just doin’ what you asked! I’m bein’ a pal.”

“And I - I’m sorry," Eddie interjects, "but you’re awfully familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Eh, I’ve been around, but uh… you ever been to [INSERT GAY BAR NAME HERE]?”

Howdy clears his throat. ��I’m trying to make a sale here, Barn. You can flirt on your own dime when you’re not costing me mine.”

“Didja know your nose gets redder when you’re jealous?”

Howdy rolls his eyes and shoves Barnaby in the diner’s direction. Barnaby goes with a hearty snicker. Despite the joke, Eddie thinks it has some merit as Howdy scans the final item and rings him up, considerably frostier than before.

Belatedly, Eddie realizes that he didn’t actually agree to the different muffins. Too late now. “Say, what kind of muffins are those?”

“Poppyseed-lemon.”

Eddie relaxes - that is a lot better than boring bran. “Y’know, my mother loved poppyseed-lemon muffins.”

“Did she now,” Howdy drawls.

“Like you wouldn’t believe! If baking was so much as mentioned, she’d jump right on houndin’ us to whip some up for her, or send us to go buy some. We’d never even get a taste! They’d be gone the moment they hit the air, I tell ya.” Eddie chuckles. “Took me a while to understand what all the fuss is about, but man was she right. They are good!”

“Uh-huh. Well, we have a fresh batch delivered every morning. They’re not the same type every time, mind you, but I can promise that they’re all of the highest quality.”

“Breadwinners, right?” Eddie jokes. Howdy doesn’t blink, but Barnaby snorts. He’ll take it. “I might have to come by more often, if that’s the case! Thank you kindly, sir.”

“Mhm, have a good day.” Howdy hands him the bag and strides away without a glance. The dismissal is clear as day. “Say, Barn, did you hear about the racket one of those cult crackpots stirred up at our dear friend’s tearoom?”

Eddie doesn’t catch the tail-end of the sentence as he hurries away, but he frowns. Cult? What cult? There’s a cult? He certainly didn’t hear of one before moving here, and none of his background checks had turned up anything of the sort. He hopes it was just a figure of speech. 

The door chimes again as Eddie leaves. It isn’t until he’s in his car that the embarrassment of that whole exchange catches up with him. If he had a nickel for every time he’d made a fool of himself in front of a gorgeous, strangely familiar man, he’d have three nickels. At the rate he’s going, he’ll either be rich, or he’ll have to move. 

Eddie subtly tries to peek around the store’s window displays from the safety of his car. He catches a scant glimpse of blue hair - come to think of it, it’s a similar shade to Wally’s. But where Wally’s had, to Eddie’s memory, been uniformly dyed right down to his eyebrows, Barnaby’s rich brown roots were obvious. His beard and eyebrows weren’t dyed, either. 

As Eddie relaxes back into his seat, he re-reads at the store’s name. The color drains from his face and he barely restrains himself from slamming his forehead against the steering wheel.

Oh, of course. Of course he made a fool of himself in front of the owner. Eddie can never come back here again. And it was such a nice store…

[akewanchan]

[Break My Case] Personal Story - Akehoshi Hinomiya, Part 1

Translation by akewanchan. Source is mobile game Break My Case.

TL note:

(edit) Thanks to Imai for letting me know that Kyousuke is actually a reference to Kyousuke from Stand My Heroes!

For clarification, Hinomiya is referred to as Ninomiya in an instance. This isn't a typo!

Ain’t sayin’ working yourself to the bone or yer surroundings don’t play a role.

I’ve seen folks pullin’ it off.

The real thing… Talent as ya say, got no mercy… 

Livin’ in high cotton, all the luxury, don’t come to mind no more.

No doubt I wished a lifetime supply of it by now. 

Akehoshi: ….

Akehoshi: (..... I’m home?)

Akehoshi: (Eh… managed to get back home properly. Good goin’)

Moving my head a wee bit while probing ‘round for my phone was ‘nough to make my world spin, making me all sluggish. 

Akehoshi: (Aaah. Still hammered as I can be. I’m parched…)

Akehoshi: …Ah. Darnit

Akehoshi: (Ain’t refilled dispenser’s bottle.)

Akehoshi: (Do recall thinking ‘bout 30 minutes before leaving the house yesterday, how I gotta swap it out since I’d wanna have a sip in the morning.)

Ain’t like anybody’s gonna complain ‘bout sleeping in on a sunday with no plans in store.

Even then, I sorta had a hunch I wouldn’t be able to hit the hay a second round if I tried to.

Feelin’ as if I was lifting a heavy load, I stood up.

Akehoshi: …Bwech

A wave of nausea washed over me yet again from gulpin’ down lukewarm tap water ‘till the last drop.

Akehoshi: (Shoot. Reckon I went too far yesterday. Sitting here and not rememberin’ what got me plastered like this just means I’m done for.)

Akehoshi: Shoulda called it quits halfway through…

Woman: …Huh! Don’t tell me, is that Ninomiya Akehoshi?

Man: Whozzat?

Woman: He’s a celeb. Y’know, that “way too angelic child actor!” guy. He showed up in TV dramas until he grew quite a bit. 

Akehoshi: Ahaha. Sure can see through the darkness in here, eh. You watched ‘em? Thank ya kindly

Woman: Eeeh, oh my god…! He’s the real deal!

Akehoshi: (....Real deal.)

That’s right, yet it ain’t.

Unfortunately, I was different.

From beginning to end, all the way through.

Akehoshi: (….Oh)

Akehoshi: Someone’s awake. Morning

Yuragi: …You’re alive.

Akehoshi: Ahaha, do feel like I’m on death's doorstep. Am muddling through one way or n’other

Akehoshi: Did I cause a ruckus in my drunken stupor when I got back? Pardon me for waking ya up if I did. 

Yuragi: Don’t you remember

Akehoshi: Not a darn thing for a while now. But good goin’ on my part for making it back home, right?

Yuragi: …

Akehoshi: (Huh. What’s that look for.)

Akehoshi: …Reckon that it ain’t~

Yuragi: Yesterday, what did you do.

Akehoshi: Eh? That’s new. Usually it’s in through ear and out the other with you when I’m doin’ the talking.

Akehoshi: Was just havin’ a drink to answer ya, though

Yuragi: Anything else? 

Akehoshi: Other stuff… nothin’ in particular?

Yuragi: …. ‘Kay

Yuragi: Then, s’fine

Akehoshi: Eh. Wait

Yuragi: What

Akehoshi: Naw, ain't it my line to ask what

Yuragi: …

Akehoshi: (If I did do somethin’ wrong, he oughta been pissed the moment he saw me, no? Seriously, what… Ah)

Yuragi: ---You scared me… Lights aren’t on either, what are you doing

Yuragi: …Can you stand?

Akehoshi: ….

Yuragi: Water. Want some?

Akehoshi: Don’t

Yuragi: Eh

Akehoshi: ---I said, I don’t need anything.

Akehoshi: … Aaah….

That feeling of swatting his hand away, the sound of water hitting the floor.

And then, the tone of voice I usually never use against other people.

Akehoshi: (....That ain’t a look of anger. It’s one of concern, huh.)

Yuragi: Remembered?

Akehoshi: I did

Akehoshi: Had been mullin’ over it myself of how I kinda drank a wee bit too much yesterday.

Akehoshi: But turns out it was more than that. Sorry for all the trouble I caused ya

Yuragi: ….

Without a word Yura turned the other way with a hmph, opened the freezer and started diggin’ through the stock of ice cream.

He picked out one, and while I was thinkin’ he’d just go back to his room-- He put that popsicle on that table, leaving it as is. 

Akehoshi: …Eh. You mean you’re giving this, to me?

Yuragi: I’m going to bed, don’t wake me up.

Akehoshi: Ah. Sure, thanks

Akehoshi: ….Reckon I made him worry.

Around the time I headed to my room after a quick shower, my mood improved somewhat compared to when I woke up. 

Akehoshi: (....Still rock solid, eh.)

I absentmindedly looked around my room while hitting the top of my ice cream with a spoon.

And then my eyes caught a glimpse of a DVD set from that old TV drama that was brought up plenty yesterday. 

Akeboshi: (...Watched it more than enough by now.)

Ain’t like I had anything I wanted to do, so I opened the DVD set to kill some time until my ice cream thawed.

Out of the six CD’s, I took out the 5 with ease and put ‘em on playback.

Akehoshi: …..

A child actor lucky enough to hit it big, his career lasted just short of 10 years until retirement. As a final conclusion to his acting career he received a spot in a TV drama set in a school.

I reckon that I, a so-so kid who wasn’t fated to be the main lead until the very end, received the main focus in an episode as a gift of kindness. 

However.

Akehoshi: …Yer amazing no matter how many times I watch it. Kyousuke-san. 

Akehoshi: The “real deal” is different.

He debuted a few years before I called it quits, and he made a beeline for the top spot within my generation.

What kinda connections or brute force got nothing to do with it, that much is clear when you sit through it just once.

Akehoshi: (That’s why… no matter how many times I watch it.)

Akehoshi: …What’s with that? That awkward silence just now. 

Reason why it didn’t take him 10 years to have grasped them roles as a rookie wasn’t luck or his surroundings, and this one episode makes me realize again and again each time. 

Akehoshi: (Aah, shoulda stopped right there before turning around.)

Akehoshi: (S’important line, yet it’s all pouring out--)

Akehoshi: …. Haha, 

Doing it more like this woulda been better, doing it more like that woulda been better.

Realizing I hadn’t learned my lesson thinking ‘bout stuff that wouldn’t reach my past self, a halfhearted chuckle escaped my mouth.

With my own strength, I wasn’t able to grasp what I wanted. 

It didn’t come true.

Just like this TV drama that’s frozen in time, no matter how many times I’ve seen it by now, it won’t change.

Akehoshi: …..I’m sure the Akehoshi-kun on screen wouldn’t wanna hear the ramblings of a guy who got off that ride a long time ago either, eh. Let’s just stop here

“My one and only wish, won’t come true anymore.”

Once I got that through my head, not a single thing mattered anymore.

But, I reckon that was for the best.

Rather than obsessing ‘bout what I can’t get, taking what I do get is a way of living that’s more suited for the likes of me.

Akehoshi: (Ah, spoon’s getting through.)

A blend of vanilla, chocolate and cookie cream. 

I stuffed my mouth with a spoonful while wondering where you can even find these sorta things, and sure enough it was so sweet I could only laugh.

Akehoshi: (Felt it in my bones this ain’t the thing to stomach when yer hungover.)

Akehoshi: (But, it do seem to be the flavor Yura likes. Let’s just eat it all up.)

Akehoshi: ….. Thank ya.

Looking at the wall, I gave my word of gratitude to Yura who’s surely drifted off to dreamland by now, and I took one more bite.

This sweetness so strong it’ll jolt you awake, slowly melted away together with this lazy afternoon.

[a-sad-mage]

An average day

[Malk - Shane Gang version]

Staring Eli as Josh, Kord as Donnivin, Pronto as Julian, Trixie as Dad and Junjie as the one having to unfortunately whiteness this

[Liberties in the text were taken]

TW: mentions of self deletion,

-

Eli: Hey Kord, we got anything to drink?

Kord: ya, check the fridge

Pronto: Hey Eli, can you get Pronto a glass of Malk

Eli: . . .

Eli: We don't have any Malk, but I can get you some Milk

Kord: That's what he said?

Pronto: Yes, Pronto just wants some Malk

Eli: No - your saying it wrong - your saying Malk! Like- Like it's a disease

Junjie: [Sinkers]

Kord: How do you say it?

Eli: I'm saying it like everyone oughta say it. Milk- M - I - L - K

Kord: Right, like 2%

Pronto: Right, like whole Malk

Eli: [visibly getting stressed] no, no no no - say Milkshake

Pronto: Milkshake

Eli: okay, so now say Milk

Pronto: Malk

Eli: A-Are you hearing this?

Kord: yea, the Mole wants a glass of Mulk

Eli: [About to shoot someone] MULK!?

Kord: Give Pronto the Mulk, Eli!!!

Trixie:[yelling form her room] Boy's, inside voices please.

Kord: Sorry Trix, guy stuff...

Pronto: ELI, POUR PRONTO A GLASS, OF MALK!!!

Eli: Why are you yelling at me???

Kord: Just give him the flopping Mulk!

Eli: You guys aren't even saying the same thing!

Pronto: WE ARE ALL SAYING MALK, ELI SHANE!!!

Eli: NO! YOUR SAYING MALK! YOUR SAYING M------

Pronto: MALK! ~ MAAAAAAAALK ~ ~ ~ ~ MAAAAAAAAAALLK! ~ ~ MOOOOOOOOOO-

Eli: SHUT UP! SHUT! UP! [Pulls out his blaser and aims it at his head]

[everyone else, minus Junjie, also pulls out their blasters]

Kord: YOU BETTER PUT IT DOWN!

Pronto: DONT- DONT DO IT!!! ELI!!!

Eli: You're gonna shoot me if I shoot myself? That doesn't make any sense!

[everyone pauses for a moment and then aims their blasters at their own heads]

Kord: ELI PUT IT DOWN NOW!!

Eli: I AM GOING TO KILL MYSELF FOR THIS!

Pronto: YOU'RE LIKE A BROTHER TO PRONTO! YOUR HAND IS LIKE A BROTHER TO PRONTO!

[everyone cries]

[Trixie finishing explaining the above for a Slugisode skit she wants to direct]

Trixie: [Done explaining the skit] And then after that, you pull the trigger, all of you

Eli: No- We're not filming something like that

Trixie: Why not?

Kord: Its so dark, I don't know

Pronto: [pets a Cave Crawler before shoving it in the oven] Pronto is going to have to take a rain check

Junjie: [sick of eating Cave crawlers, shoots Pronto with a Tazerling]

-

[The Malk in question]

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for trying to save my best friend?

Alright, so I'm not going to go into all the details because most of the people involved kinda hate me now and kinda want me dead.

See, I work for this organization. I've been with them for about ten years now, ever since I was a kid. They've had me doing all kinds of icky jobs for them, and you're not allowed to say "no" or else they'll brand you a traitor and send someone to erase you. Nice guys, am I right?

Last year, a new kid joined us. And because the boss likes to watch me suffer or something like that, I got put in charge of showing this kid the ropes. Only it wasn't as bad I thought it was going to be. The kid turned out to be pretty cool. We started meeting up for ice cream after work and we’d all sit around and shoot the breeze about stupid stuff…

(Okay, for some reason, when I try to type this out, I find myself talking like there was more than one person hanging out with me. But that doesn’t make any sense. It was just the one kid, not two.)

I digress. A year goes by and that’s when the problems start. See, my buddy had amnesia and joined our organization to find out who he was. And the thing is, we already knew. But I didn’t tell him because I was afraid that he’d leave us. And just my luck, he found out enough info to realize that I lied to him and he ran away.

The boss didn’t like that. You don’t just quit and run away from these guys. So he sent me out to assassinate the kid. To make a really long story short, I couldn’t do it. But my buddy ended up disappearing anyway.

And that’s when I kinda…lost it. I hit rock bottom. I couldn’t go back to my old job and my best friend was gone. So I decided that I was going to do whatever it took to bring him back. Including kidnapping someone who was only loosely connected to all this. (And for what it’s worth, I feel pretty terrible about that one and I’m planning to apologize to her next time I see her. That oughta smooth things over, right?)

None of it has amounted to anything. My best friend’s gone and I just can’t help feeling like this was partly my fault and I could’ve handled things better. AITA?

[djsangos]

You can barely fucking think straight.

Horde of Salmonid after horde of Salmonid comes swarming down every alleyway as your splatoon, along with the Grizzco crowd, fights beak and tentacle to protect Splatsville and evacuate civilians to Inkopolis.

“I didn’t even know Grizzco was still operating,” you’d said as the lot of you were gearing up to hold the line at Barnacle & Dime. “Didn’t the rookie and Octavio fucking kill the CEO?”

“Someone else must have taken over,” Eight had mused, strapping on her ink tank. “I guess we’re lucky that we’re not taking this on by oursel—”

“Guys! Captain!” Four came careening in, one boot on his foot and the other in his hand. “They’re in the city proper! Headed to the plaza!”

“Shit!”

It’s a lot easier to get separated from your agents than you thought it’d be, dispersed by the waves of Salmonids and the Grizzco employees fighting for their lives and the city alongside you, and you find yourself back-to-back with one of those strangers now, fending off a group of Salmonids trying to surround the two of you.

A strange, high-pitched noise emanates from the ground beneath you. You both look down, spotting a bobber, and you’re dragging them away by the arm through an opening in the swarm before they can even finish shouting “Maws!” They drop a bomb as you drag them off, and a large Salmonid emerges from the ink, swallows the bomb, and explodes, taking a couple of the smaller Salmonids out with it in the resulting ink splatter and leaving a handful of golden Salmonid eggs in its place.

“Too bad we didn’t have enough time to grab an egg basket,” the Inkling you just dragged out of the Maws’… maws mutters darkly, taking shots at the surviving Salmonids straggling after the two of you as you yourself throw a splat bomb into the swarm, taking a few more out.

“Captain!” comes from behind you, and you can’t risk turning around to look, but you hear the sound of someone emerging from ink, and what you now definitely recognize as the rookie’s voice, tight and without their usual sardonic humor. “That oughta be the last of the evacuees, they’re all on the train headed for Inkopolis.”

“Thank cod,” you say, then add, “stay close. Both of you.”

“Aye aye?” your new companion says, bemused.

The three of you swim in unison, yourself taking the lead, to the nearest swarmed alleyway, shooting from the entrance at the Salmonids trying to spill out into the plaza. Where the hell are they coming from?

“Anyone got Reeflsider?” you ask, using your right crutch for support and shooting with your left, formulating a plan on the fly.

Your companion shakes their head, lobs a bomb at the swarm growing closer. “I got Kraken. One left.”

That can work too. “Get it charged, go in, we’ll follow you.” With enough of them clumped together, you can use a Splashdown to take out almost the whole group at once.

As they get ready to charge in with their Kraken Royale, you just can’t help but wonder for a moment.

Why’re they attacking the city with this much force? What do they want? Is killing them the right call? How can you keep this from ever happening again?

Is this how the Octarians felt when you invaded Octo Valley? Did they ask the same questions?

“Let’s go, Captain!” Rookie calls, pulling you from your thoughts. Focus, asshole. Now’s not the time for a guilty conscience.

Your new companion takes the lead, crushing many of the Salmonids in their path and pushing back those that aren’t immediately killed. You and the rookie dive into the ink they leave in their wake, rushing forward to meet them at the other end of the alley, where their special ends.

The alley opens up onto a wider road running perpendicular to it, and holy shit, there’s a lot of Salmonids here. Definitely more than one Splashdown can take out, but in splatting a couple more Chums, your special is ready to go, and it only takes a quick look shared with the rookie, whose hair is similarly flared with a fully-charged special, for them to know exactly what you’re thinking.

Running into the horde closest to you, spacing yourselves just so to maximize splattage, and the rookie shouts “SPLASHDOWN!”

If you both had Triple Splashdowns, the carnage would be a sight to fucking behold, but as it stands, your makeshift Double Splashdown still goes pretty hard, and the two of you take out practically the whole group that had met you at the alley’s exit, save for the stragglers outside the radius.

You stumble as you right yourself, leaning heavily on your crutches, breathing hard. Cod, your body fucking hurts.

“You good, Cap?” You hadn’t even noticed the rookie approaching you, but you wordlessly nod all the same.

“Just need a second.” You’d like to take a minute at least, but you don’t have that kind of time. This shit’s far from over, and you don’t even need to look to know more Salmonids are already approaching.

When this is all over, you’re gonna need to check in with the rookie about how they feel about all this- they definitely can’t feel good about tearing through their Lil’ Buddy’s own kind, at least.

“Great teamwork, guys,” says your companion, running up to the two of you. A distinct stinging sound rings through the air, and what looks like a Stingray made of horrifically filthy water cuts through the air. “We’ve gotta move! Everyone good?”

You glance at the rookie, who gives a thumbs up, then nod again. “Stinger, right?”

“There’s a Steel Eel headed this way, too,” they say. Steel Eel… You think you remember what those are from your brief skim of the Salmonid Field Guide, smaller Salmonids steering a giant water-spouting machine of death.

“We deal with the Stinger first,” you say. Best to get the immediate threat out of the way. “Don’t get separated.”

“Yeah, okay, boss,” they lightly scoff, but follow your lead anyway, fighting your way through the horde to follow the Stinger ray to its source. Between the three of you, it’s trivial enough to take out, and again it leaves nothing but a splatter of ink and three golden eggs.

“What a waste,” Rookie says, eyeing the eggs with a look and tone you can’t read. “Where’s the Steel Eel?”

“It’s that—” the stranger turns and points, then stops. “—it’s gone.”

The three of you swim in the direction they pointed out, and there’s someone else swimming up to you. Emerging from the ink all at once-- it’s Callie!

“Oh my cod! Captain! Agent Three!” she calls. “You’re okay!”

“Is that fucking Callie Cuttlefish?” your companion exclaims.

“Agent One,” you say, “are you okay?”

“Where’re the others?” adds the rookie.

“I’m okay. They’re-- hang on.” She weaves past the three of you and flicks her roller aggressively at yet more Salmonids coming to break up your reunion. “Let’s clear up the road first!”

The four of you make quick work of the rest of the Salmonids in this section of road, and soon enough the flood turns into a trickle into nothing, for now.

“Whew!” Callie breathes, leaning on her roller and wiping invisible sweat from her forehead. “Anyway, last I saw Agent Eight and Agent Four, they were fighting in the plaza, and Agent Two was on the train helping with the evacuation. She’s probably back in Inkopolis right now, giving a tentacle with first aid. And Gramps is way out of the way, he’ll be okay,” she adds, almost as an afterthought.

“They’ll be okay together, right?” says the rookie.

“We should still meet back up with them,” you say between deep, slow breaths. “Strength in numbers.”

The stranger takes a deep breath of their own, then shouts, “Okay, just who the hell are you people!?”

“Huh?” says Callie, seeming to finally, actually realize the presence of a stranger in your midst. She adds to you, “New friend of yours?” You just shrug in response.

“I mean,” they continue, “you guys have weird titles, Callie fucking Cuttlefish is here, and you’re clearly not with Grizzco. So what’s your deal?”

“We’re here to help,” Rookie says. “Splatsville’s my home too, I’m not gonna let it fall. Even if…” they trail off.

“Gahhh,” the stranger groans, bringing a hand up to their head. “This situation is so fucked we have some kind of secret militia stepping in to save the day. My sister’s not gonna believe me when I tell her about this! I must be going crazy!”

“Can we save it?” you say. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry.” Rookie gives you a look. “Poor choice of words, my bad.”

“We get the gist, Captain!” says Callie. “Let’s head back to the plaza while the coast is clear.”

“Gah,” repeats your companion, “Fine.”

When you get back to the plaza proper, your gaze almost immediately locks onto your two missing agents, Four throwing a bomb at a Flyfish and Eight taking on a group of Salmonids trying to stop the two of them from taking out the Flyfish. You motion to the others the direction you’re going, and ink a path to swim over, popping up beside Eight to help in the fending off just as you hear the final bomb in the Flyfish explode and see the other four exit the ink after you.

“There you are!” Eight exclaims. “We were getting worried.”

“We had it under control,” you say. “Glad you guys have it handled here, too.”

Between the now six of you, this group of Salmonids never had a chance.

Eventually, the waves and waves of Salmonids seem to clear, and everyone, Squidbeak and Grizzco, is heading towards the center to regroup and recuperate, when a horn sounds, and shouts start to ring out among the Grizzco groups.

Oh, shit.

“It’s the Triumvirate!” someone shrieks.

“I thought they stopped them at Undertow!” shouts another.

Oh, shit.

[mlobsters]

supernatural s10e4 paper moon (w. adam glass)

(ps apparently i didn't actually finish e3 yesterday, i still had a little scene left. but i glanced down when copying out the transcript to get the dean and cas convo bits and didn't see any more dialogue so i was like okay, see ya. so, noted, new evil beautiful red haired lady to fill up the abaddon shaped hole)

exCUSE ME what are those sunglasses??? cringing and laughing. are those someone else's glasses they just plonked on jared's face? it looks like there's a prescription?? dying.

listen. jared, baby, i am so sorry they did this to you and now i'm wheezing over it

(wiki)

In the scene by the river, Sam is wearing Prada Wayfarer sunglasses and Dean is wearing Oakley Holbrook.

prada???? sam. in prada sunglasses

DEAN Hey, something I needed to ask you. SAM Shoot. DEAN You've been... kicked, bit, scratched, stabbed, possessed, killed... And you sprain your friggin' elbow?

when in reality how is he not constantly recovering from surgery/stab wounds/being shot by bela etc 🤪

very cute. it's been a while since we had a scenic drink and chat! went for a whopper of a view too

DEAN Seriously, I'm good. I am. You know, we got… Three more cases of this stuff on ice in the trunk. Taking some ‘we time.’… best decision we ever made.

*studio audience awwww's* "we time" huh. werewolves gonna crash the honeymoon?

SAM Hear that.

god that just makes me think about

s5e10 abandon all hope this sweet and funny moment that could have started a fight but no one got mad

DEAN Sam Winchester, having trust issues with a demon. Well, better late than never. SAM Thank you again for your continued support.

and jo and bobby and ellen and....

🥲

all right. we time with extremely questionable sunglasses. let's go. oh, honeymoon too boring, the mark still got him stabby feeling.

DEAN Look, Sam, what we're doing here, it's good, okay? You and me hanging out. But I need to work… I need this. SAM If things go sideways... I mean, like, an inch, you gotta give me the heads-up.

sam, the real "we time" would be the werewolves we kill along the way. oh i do have a hazy idea of something that happens when he must still have the mark. i bet it involves not telling sam when he's going sideways :P

SAM Guess she likes bad boys. DEAN Well, wait’ll she gets a load of us.

LOL okay, dean. feelin himself. splitting up when sam is down his dominant arm seems not great, especially at night when he needs a flashlight. needs a headlamp :p

ahh, kate, the werewolf from the found footage episode (s8e4). i gather that was quite unpopular? i liked it fine

oh my god a like, full episode recap so we can dredge up the memory of lester that was what, 2 episodes ago? lol. wow this is some kind of conversation

SAM You're serious? This is about Lester? DEAN Um, don't get me wrong. I'm not -- I'm not -- I'm not trying to start anything either, okay? I'm just saying, maybe... maybe we oughta talk about that. SAM Okay, except there's nothing to talk about. DEAN Okay. SAM Okay. DEAN I just figured, since we're opening up veins that maybe you'd want to talk about the guy who you made sell his soul. SAM The guy who you then killed, right? I mean, that's the same guy we're talking about? DEAN I was a demon. SAM Oh, you were a demon? Oh, I didn't realize that.

made me laugh. tell him, sam!

DEAN Hey, man, Lester was gonna pay for that soul shake sooner or later. So technically, it's still on you. SAM What do you want from me, Dean? Look, I w-- I'm not happy about it, okay? But I needed to find you. So if I had to... bend a few rules...

this is cracking me up. sam's like damnit dean, usually we just ignore this and move on and never address it again. shove it down. you know???

DEAN Go dark. SAM Go dark. Sure. Label it if you want.

now that got another laugh. ugh kids and their labels

DEAN Look, man, again, I'm not complaining, okay? In fact, I'm doing just the opposite of complaining. I... I just... You know, between Lester and the others... SAM There weren't others. DEAN Okay, either way, maybe we both needed that time off. DEAN This is good. This is good. SAM Yeah. Okay.

is our impromptu therapy session over? 😂 dean what are you doing? haha. was that all just a deflection so they wouldn't talk about his issues?

KATE Don't! She's my sister.

snorted. a murderous sibling, oh, the moral dilemma!

SAM Yoga? DEAN [mocking] Okay. KATE You laugh, but... I'll pretty much try anything to keep that side of me under control.

*staring at camera*

feel a little bad laughing at all these things but when they start hitting me over the head with a point/parallel to the boys i just can't

SAM So back at the barn, that was all just an act to protect Tasha? KATE She's family. And, yeah, worth eating a bullet for.

dying for her so she can continue killing other people too! lol. normal sibling behavior

DEAN Kate and Tasha are monsters, okay? Last I checked, we kill monsters. SAM Right, but how can you possibly blame Kate for fighting for her sister? We do it all the time.

mmhm

DEAN Well, yeah, and that's worked wonders for us. SAM Well, we're still here, aren't we? DEAN Yeah, but is it right? I mean, all that you've done for me, I've still got this Mark. SAM And we'll figure that out. We always do. But you can't take whatever's happened to us or to you and -- and dump it at these girls' feet. DEAN All right, so, what? You wanna nuance this thing? Hit me. What's your plan?

look at all of this impressive communication. impromptu therapy session #2 in the books

SAM Okay. Then, um... I gotta tell you something. I, uh... I lied about Lester. DEAN What? SAM There were others. DEAN Other humans? SAM No. No, no. And -- and I'm sure there were a few hunters I rubbed -- or I... punched the wrong way, but...No. I pretty much saved my best stuff for the bad guys. But you gotta understand something, Dean.

ringing up #3! it's like a season's worth of straight forward communication

SAM I watched you die. SAM And I carried you. I carried your corpse into your room, and I put your dead body on your bed, and then you just... DEAN Yeah.

sam 💔

DEAN I know. I guess I was hoping that note would, you know, fill in the blanks. SAM “Don't look for me”? That note? Yeah, that was really informative. Thanks. DEAN Yeah. I... SAM What? DEAN It's embarrassing, you know? SAM W-what's embarrassing? DEAN All of it. You know, the -- the -- that note. Crowley. Everything.

oh, dean. i hadn't thought about that, that would be mortifying

SAM Dean, you were a demon. DEAN I was a demon? Oh, thanks. I didn't -- I didn't realize. SAM [smiling] Shut up.

cute cute

DEAN Not to mention, I never even said “thank you”" so... SAM You don't ever have to say that, not to me.

oh my god LOL it's like.

Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you. ― Anne Carson, Euripides

which is pretty much their dynamic all the time but the "not to me" would not be denied

TASHA Drop the gun, or Dreamboat here gets his mind blown.

dreamboat, that's a new one. also accurate

TASHA No one's talking to you, Paul Bunyan!

i snorted. okay, maybe this is the problem with my emotional attachment. serious scenes make me laugh. but not in a bad way most of the time? just i'm enjoying the silliness but then not feeling the serious parts. tone too wonky maybe. chicken and the egg, did the tone break the attachment or did the attachment break and made me notice just the jokes because i'm not emotionally engaged

well, they made the sibling parallel diverge pretty starkly what with one being full dark and the other willing and able to kill her

DEAN If you got an itch to scratch... SAM Dean, look, we both jumped on this case. I agree. Equal parts blame there. But the whole idea behind laying low was to rest, to...try and deal with everything we – everything you went through. Maybe we jumped back in too fast. I mean, Dean… you were a demon. You still have the Mark.

yes, dealing with it, definitely a new concept :p is this #4? lost track

SAM Didn't you ever wanna talk about it? DEAN Talk about it? Talk about it how? SAM Come on, man. DEAN I am coming on, Sam, look… I know what happened. Okay? I was there. Remember? I'm not trying to get by it. I just... That's not what this was about. SAM Then what is this about? DEAN It’s about gettin' back in the saddle. Okay? Doing something good, not stewing in my own crap. SAM And what if you're not ready?

this feels like a reminder, hey dean is the king of feeling guilty about things. which honestly, it wasn't at the forefront of my mind either. embarrassed and guilty ✅✅ i'm too worried about what the mark is doing to him

don't think i care if this is ooc i'm taking it. i ship clear communication 🤝 the boys

[alleiradayne]

In Through The Out Door | Art Master Post

Castiel was dead. Again. And it was all Dean's fault.

After failing to drink himself into an early grave, Dean finds a little resolve to pick himself back up and do the right thing: save people. With Sam and Jack by his side, and a little help from a few other survivors, they take on Chuck, restore the world, the multiverse, and everything's back to the way it oughta be.

Everything but Castiel, that is.

Dean clings to a death wish five miles wide after that. And he gets that wish, dying on a hunt. But the worst is yet to come when he wakes up and finds himself in the Empty. And he's not alone.

Chapter 3

Summary: Dean attempts to drink himself to death only to end up wandering back down to the archives in a worthless attempt to clean up his mess. Warnings/Tags: Suicidal ideation, alcoholism, extreme consumption, blackout drunk, lots of self-hatred, trauma Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester Word Count: 2300

Dead. 

Castiel was dead. Again. And it was all Dean’s fault.

Him and his ego with his hot headed plan. Why? Why did it have to go tits up? After everything they’d been through. Why had it all gone to hell in a handbasket at the eleventh hour?

Christ, he sounded like a broken record.

“I got you, Jack, just hang on.”

He flopped over onto his side, face half buried in his pillow as he reached into the darkness. Why couldn’t he just black out already?

“I have to get away. You have to get away from me.”

Not enough liquor in Lebanon to put him under.

“Don’t let me hurt you.”

Thick glass scraped across the bedside table when his fingers found it, scoring the wood as Dean dragged a whiskey bottle to him. For fucks’ sake, they were the good guys. They were supposed to win, dammit. Heroes don’t kneel to piss-baby gods. Not even Chuck. That dickbag had used them, made them dance to his tune. Like puppets on strings. That’s all they were, all they’d ever been. Even before they were born, it had started with their parents. Then the demon blood. Lucifer, Michael, Heaven and Hell. All of it had been for Chuck’s amusement. Pawns. None of it had ever been real.

Real.

“You asked what about this was real. We are.”

We.

Dean threw back the bottom of the bottle and chugged. The room had stopped spinning hours ago, his throat numb to the whiskey’s sting. Numb. In all the worst ways. Drowned by alcoholic hopelessness. A coma would be better than this living nightmare.

He wished he could forget. But that skip in the record just kept coming back around. The needle hopped it every time and son of a bitch why couldn’t someone just turn the fucking table off. Brain bleach should be a thing. What he wouldn’t give to erase the last forty-eight hours.

Erase? Or redo? He needed a mulligan.

Milligan?

Wait, what?

“I cared about the whole world because of you.”

No. Not again. Fuck this noise. Dean switched on his lamp, then rolled from his bed and shuffled across his room to the sink. On his way, the room pitched and he stumbled. He reached out with both hands, forgetting the bottle still clutched in his fist. It slammed against the porcelain and shattered. The last of the whiskey poured down the drain along with the dredges of his dignity. A stray shard slipped through his palm in his attempt to clean up the mess, slicing his calloused skin, and he hissed like a cornered cat.

Damn glass. He grabbed a bandana hanging from the nearby coat rack and wrapped it around his bleeding palm. Between his teeth, he grabbed one end and pulled it tight by the other in his free hand. Shooting pain lanced through the cut, and Dean groaned against it. The fabric soaked through immediately, crimson with his blood. He watched deliberately, allowing droplets to fall into the sink. Little rivers of red ran down the porcelain into the drain. Funny. It reminded him of blood running from a sigil. Painted on a door in haste. To protect them.

He returned to the mirror and twisted. A large, bloody handprint covered his left shoulder. His own right hand fit over it, though he dared not touch. Might be wet still. 

Piece of shit God. Fucking Billie. Bastard Cosmic Entity. Why couldn’t they all just leave them alone? Just for five fucking minutes?

“You changed me, Dean.”

In  his reflection, he found his eyes, and froze. Holy hell, he looked like shit. Like he’d gone ten rounds with… with whatever. Something. Fuck, he could hardly think. Bloodshot and sunken eyes stared back at him, blank. Unseeing. Lifeless.

“I love you.”

Castiels’ voice echoed like a muted line from someone else’s memory, and Dean shook as his hands balled into white-knuckled fists. Scalding rage consumed his loathing pity, and he shoved back from the sink. There had to be something. Even if it accomplished fuck-all, he had to try at least.

Right?

That was what he should do. Get clean, sober up. Somehow. His head rolled from one shoulder to the other in a worthless attempt to find clarity. Or so he thought. Out of the corner of his blurry vision, he spotted a large wooden box sitting on the shelf below his mirror. On the cover, a small human skull stood out, engraved into the wood. The bright red lacquer snapped him out of his delirium. He reached for it, fumbling the cover twice before it clattered to the floor and revealed an oversized brass key. Had to be a sign.

Right?

Key in hand, Dean bumbled to his bedroom door and swung it open a little too enthusiastically. It rebounded off the opposite wall, then swung closed on its own behind him. Shuffling steps carried him down the hallway, and he shook his head. Okay, the walls were definitely spinning again. And he had no clue where Sam and Jack were. No point in looking for them, though. It was his fault after all. They shouldn’t clean up his mess. So he stumbled along, empty hand trailing against the tiled wall. Like a divining rod, he followed the cool stone, always turning left, until he suddenly found himself staring at the debris spilling from 7B in the archive suite.

At the far end, the door to the research room stood closed. All he had to do was skip over a pile of stone and plaster. Then he could beat down Billie’s door, just like she had theirs, and get some fucking answers. Dead or alive, it didn’t matter much to him if she was there. Hell, maybe he’d find a way to kill Chuck. Even if it meant dying, he’d take it.

Dean tripped over his first step, catching himself on a nearby door frame. He slurred a string of profanity as the key chafed against his bleeding palm, piercing through the bandana, and he nearly dropped it. Idiot. Just keep it together another thirty feet. Suck it up. Like you always do. Bury it and keep moving. He’d have to. Drowning it hadn’t worked. What other choice did he have?

None. Typical.

With an intentional breath, Dean navigated the debris. Every step felt like a marathon, so deep in his cups. But he pressed on. And once the cool metal of the furthest archive door handle graced his palm, he toppled again, falling through and collapsing on the cement floor. Darkness pressed in at the edge of his mind, a vicious current threatening to pull him under. He nearly gave in. Son of a bitch, he wanted to. He’d drunk enough whiskey to put down a horse for a reason.

And yet…

Dean pushed the concrete floor away, rising to his hands and knees. One foot propped him up, then the next scuffed beneath him, and he stood. If you could call it standing. More like floating. Or listing. Yeah. Like a boat taking on water. Water made of whiskey.

A violent shake of his head accomplished next to nothing except nauseating him. Fuck, man, focus. Get your shit together. Dean scanned the room and spotted the empty brick wall beside the research table. His feet betrayed him, clipping a leg on the nearest chair, and he caught himself against the low back. The room pitched suddenly, and that acidic, sour taste filled his mouth. No. Not here. Shit, don’t puke in the archives again. Sam had nearly throttled him the last time. Might have been because he’d spewed all over a collection of “irreplaceable” Sumerian texts. Had it not been for Castiel, Sam would have absolutely beaten the piss out of him.

Castiel.

Another deep breath filled his lungs, settled his stomach, and Dean straightened. Resolve stiffened his spine and set his shoulders, his jaw. Then he rounded the end of the table and shambled towards the nearby wall, key in his outstretched hand. But unlike when he and Castiel had attempted to corner Billie, nothing happened. No light, no doorway, no keyhole appeared when he reached the brick. Nothing happened. He took two steps back and approached again. Maybe he’d done it wrong.

But again, nothing happened. Which was fine. Wasn’t like he had hoped for much. In fact, he’d known all along it wouldn’t work.

But then why did he still feel so fucking awful?

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Fuck. Keep it together. Breathe. But he couldn’t. His throat closed up, constricting, and his eyes burned as tears blurred his vision. Damn baby. He ground his teeth, fighting it all back, pushing it down, burying it again. But all the pain, the anger. It swept him up, sucked him under, and he caved. The tears spilled over in waves, cascading down his cheeks, and racking sobs shook him from head to toe. He wanted more than anything to stop, to put a damn cap on it and just fucking stop bawling like a whiny bitch. Forget it all happened. Soldier on.

But he couldn’t. This time he just… couldn’t.

He had to get it out. The words clawed at his ribs, his heart. If he held it in any longer, it’d kill him. A tiny part of him wished he could let it take him out. But there was no stopping it now.

“Cas…” he began. “I hope you can hear me… wherever you are.” He paused again, another wave of emotion overwhelming him and he squeezed his eyes shut against the ache. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, I should have said something.” Gasping sobs heaved his shoulders, and he hammered his fist on the brick wall. “I… son of a bitch, why did you do it? Why are you always so fucking self-sacrificing? I need you here, man, not dead and gone. You’re useless to me like this, more than useless.”

None of that had helped. He had to calm down, had to settle his racing heart, his shaking hands. Get a grip, man, you’re just as useless this way. He turned his back to the wall and breathed in through his nose, then exhaled slowly through his open mouth. Another deep inhale filled his lungs and he held it. 

Focus. Pick something. He started with his heart, reining in the race. Another breath. Shoulders next. Down from the ears. His jaw. Unclench. Then his fists. Let go. A third breath. Head. Concentrate. Find the words.

“I love you.”

The memory replayed clear as a bell that time. More than Castiel’s death, his last three words haunted Dean like a restless spirit. And yet… that wasn’t quite it, either. The words themselves? Yeah, that tracked. Of course Castiel loved him. Duh and, or hello. No, what had left Dean feeling like the biggest asshole to have ever assholed had absolutely everything to do with the fact that, in Castiel’s most vulnerable moment of his entire existence, Dean had balked.

“Don’t… don’t do this, Cas.”

What a stupid fucking response. Who says that to someone as they’re carving their heart out of their chest and handing it over to you on a silver platter in a last-ditch effort to save your stupid fucking dumbass from your own stupid fucking dumbass plan?

Dean. That’s who.

He had to make it right. Even if nobody could hear it. He would. And that was all that mattered. So full-throated this time. Not a whisper, not a mumbled-under-your-breath copout. He had to say it. Out loud. Intentionally. And fully present.

Dean opened his eyes and breathed one more time.

“I love you, too, Cas.”

There. Done. Did he feel any better? Nope. Not really. Not at all, in fact. Castiel was still fuckin’ dead. Deader than a doornail. But he’d said it. And dammit all to hell, he’d meant it. That was all that mattered.

He shoved the key in his pocket with a defeated grunt. At least Billie was dead, too. Gotta pick out the positives where he found them. Right?

Sure.

He’d keep telling himself that until he passed out at the bottom of another bottle. If he could find one.

The walk back to his room passed in a blur. He swung the door closed, but never heard it latch. Not that it mattered. Nobody needed him, really. Sam and Jack were busy enough trying to find a solution to the real problem. He’d only slow them down. Dead weight. 

Or just dead.

If only. Eternal rest in Heaven sounded nice right about then. Reliving his favorite hits from his best cuts. No piece of shit monsters, no asshole demons, no shithead angels… 

That last thought brought him up short at the edge of his bed in a sudden rush of clarity. A Heaven of reruns actually sounded awful. He shuddered, gagging against that rancid taste rising in his throat again. A drink. One more ought to do the trick.

Dean tore open the drawer in his bedside table and withdrew his flask. The cap spun with a practiced flick of his thumb and forefinger. Then he threw his head back and downed the entire thing.

Yup. Close enough.

The flask clattered on the nightstand as he dropped it and collapsed onto his bed. With his face buried in his pillow, he reached for his lamp, slapping haphazardly as he searched for the switch. If he ever found it, he couldn’t remember. But he must have. Oppressive darkness filled his room, and he closed his eyes, hoping he could at least sleep like the dead.

Dead. 

Castiel was dead. Again. And it was all Dean’s fault.

It was the last coherent thought he had before he finally, blessedly, passed out.

This series is complete! Reblogs are loved and feedback is welcome!

In Through The Out Door | Art Master Post

[onthepyre]

"hey, mick." mandy's voice crackles over the phone. it makes the distance between them feel all that much further, the way the shitty mountain reception softens her rough edges. "you been doin' alright?"

"fine," he answers, shorter than he really means. "what're you callin' for? this is an emergency number."

she chuckles. it sounds more like a cough. "what, you don't want to talk to your baby sister?"

"c'mon, mandy. the fuck do you want?"

"i'm up in west virginia. a friend of mine has a bit of an issue that i need some backup for."

"where in west virginia? and what kind of issue? christ, i can't do this without a few details."

"just north of elkins. it's some kinda poltergeist - a nasty one. been fucking with him and his siblings for weeks, but it's getting worse lately."

"i'll be there soon. two days max. send me the address."

"will do," mandy says, and the line clicks dead.

oklahoma to west virginia is a bitch of a drive, but mickey manages with the help of more than a little redbull. he rolls into the holler just past seven the day after the call. it's not much except for a church and a stop sign; the only houses in sight are edging on decrepit, heat radiating from their roofs. it looks like nearly every other town in these parts that mickey's ever seen.

the address in the text is off the main roadway, down a shitty gravel alley. a foreboding spray-painted sign greets him a quarter mile before the house, but mickey forges on. something akin to a double-wide trailer sits in the valley he pulls into, with a teenage kid on the porch weilding a shotgun. he brings it to his shoulder when mickey steps out of his car.

"what are you doin' here?" the kid yells.

"mandy sent me," he shouts back. "heard you guys have been havin' some problems."

the boy lowers his gun and shouts into the house for someone named ian. he's joined then by a lanky ginger with freckles from his forehead to the backs of his hands, arms crossed over his chest.

"you're mickey?" his name slides off ian's tongue like jam off toast, sticky sweet and slow in the appalachian drawl. mickey nods and ian gestures for him to follow back into the house.

"i'm sorry for carl," ian says once they're inside. "we keep to ourselves out here. he's our guard dog, of a sort."

"not the worst welcome i've ever had."

ian smiles at that. "can i get you a beer?" he asks. "or some water? we ain't got much else."

"beer's great."

ian opens two bottles and takes a long sip from his, half-lidded eyes focused on mickey.

"we think it's our dad. he drank himself to death 'bout two weeks before it started. it messes with me and our big sister the most, but everyone's seen him at some point or another."

"where's he buried?"

"little cemetery 'round back of the church."

"we'll get mandy to stay here tonight and keep an eye out. you and i will go dig up dickhead and torch his bones. that oughta solve it, but i'll hang around for a while and keep an eye out. is there a place everyone else can stay for the night?"

"gotta cousin i can call," ian says.

they shoot the shit 'til sundown, near an hour later. ian's charming, funny. more than once, his gaze catches on mickey's exposed shoulders and lingers there. mickey returns the favor. ian shows him a polaroid of one of the bedrooms - a shadow stands in the corner, reaching for the fan. he says the blades went flying off a couple seconds after he snapped the photo.

mandy pulls into the driveway as ian's sister hauls the other kids off in a busted-up station wagon from the 80s. she hugs them both on the porch, promising she'll be alright. she claps ian on the shoulder before they part ways and, if mickey sees it right, winks at him.

it isn't quite dark when they pull into the cemetery, but the sweltering heat is faded enough that mickey's willing to shut the car off while they wait.

"be about a half hour before we can get started," he says to ian. "you won't be sleepin' much tonight."

"figured as much." ian's voice is heavy. he looks at mickey out of the corner of his pale green eye, and fuck, mickey can't help himself. he pounces across the seat. ian's so enthusiastic he nearly knocks out mickey's front teeth, but that's fine, that's more than alright. ian's got a hand on the small of his back and is pulling hard, so mickey hauls himself over the seat to straddle him. he feels feral. rabid. it's been ages since he got to indulge like this and by ian's desperate kissing, it's been even longer for him, if this isn't the first time.

mickey's phone rings about ten minutes in, when ian's shirt has come off and he's yanking at the hem of mickey's. he picks up; mandy sounds pissed.

"you douchebags better get your asses in gear. he's mad as hell."

"hasn't even been twenty minutes. relax, we've got this."

"mhm." the sound of shotgun fire rings through the phone. "if you don't hurry the fuck up i'll come over there and do it myself."

"i've got it, thanks. take care."

"be careful," mandy says. "use protection."

she hangs up before mickey can say anything.

mini moodboard story challenge [x] | [x] | [x] | [x] [ more ]

[illegal-spiegel]

Spike Spiegel x Medic!reader

Genre: fluff, crack? Warnings: mention of getting shot, wounds, blood, surgery, etc.

you two meet bc Spike may or may not have accidentally shot you

listen, it’s not his fault, okay!!!

you just came out of nowhere and got in the line of his bullet...

anyway, he carried you all the way to the Bebop after you passed out to have Jet heal you back to health just for you to wake up when you arrive and start demanding for all these materials

and look, Spike has seen a lot of badass things in his day (mainly from himself)

but never has he seen anyone perform surgery on themselves to get a bullet out of their leg

yeah, he kinda fell in love on the spot (but shh, no one can know okay so you didn’t hear it from me)

after you’re all done patching yourself up, Spike and Jet are kinda just gaping at you like a couple of fish

“What? Haven’t you ever seen a bullet wound before?” you snap, unaware of why they are so shocked

like

didn’t that hurt???

apparently, it wasn’t the first time you had ever been shot and it likely wouldn’t be the last (especially with Spike around)

Jet immediately recruits you onto the Bebop after that, to Spike’s dismay and joy

you decline at first, explaining that you just got out of med school and you want an actual job

Jet explains what they do though and you like to hear that they help people just like you do, but in a different way

it’s admirable that they’re putting their lives on the line every day to save people

(”That’s not why we do it. We do it f-” “For the money. Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, softie.” “I am not a softie.” “Whatever you say, Spike.”)

after getting all your things from home, you three, plus the very cute dog that you didn’t know they had, take off to do some bounty hunting

Spike does his bounty hunting like normal, causing chaos and havoc just like he did when he ended up shooting you by accident

he, luckily, doesn’t shoot anyone else besides bad guys though 

he does, however, come back quite often with his own bullet wounds, limps, scraps, bruises, and the list goes on 

each and every time though, you just patch him up with a shake of your head and a small smile

the first time it happened though, you couldn’t help but to raise your brow up at him and let out a light chuckle

"Damn. You really oughta take care of yourself better,” you tease him

he just grumbles and rolls his eyes at you as he lays down on the medic table 

“Just shut up and get to work, would ya? I’m bleeding out here.” 

“Well, that’s not a very nice way of asking for someone’s help.” 

“Why you-”

“You know, saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ can get you a long way,” you continue to tease, taking your sweet time in getting your med gear ready 

“For the love of-” he starts before cutting himself off with a hiss when he moves wrong and his wounds start stinging more “Okay, okay! I’m sorry! Jeez, can you just—ugh, can you please just patch me up already?”

you sigh at his terrible way of asking nicely but wheel your chair over to him and start getting to work anyway 

“You’re really bad at that,” you comment after working on one of his wounds 

he simply grunts in return and keeps his eyes closed

“How about you take me out after you’re all healed up?” 

this causes him to open his eyes

“Like...like with a gun or on a date?” 

“Spike, oh my god. I meant on a date, you dumbass!” 

“Well, how was I supposed to know what you meant!” 

“I think it was fairly obvious!”

you two go back and forth until you’re done cleaning him up, but in the end, he yells at you that he’ll take you somewhere so nice it’ll ‘knock your socks off!’ so you ‘better be ready to be wowed!’

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

MASTERLIST

More with Spike Spiegel 

Join my discord: https://discord.gg/qnDxJ6rr67 

Tag List: @sunflowersenshi​, @strawberyydreamz, @nojamsss03, & @katsuhera​ ✦ if you would like to be added or removed, comment or send an ask. Also, remember to tell me if you ever change your username so I can continue to tag you :)

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

[b100k]

‼️‼️‼️ SPOILERS AHEAD ‼️‼️‼️

abstinence camp! I've been told this one is v good

Corey your voice >>>>>

BRYCEEEEEE

STEPHANIE LAUTER?!!! MY BELOVED?!!!?!!!?!

Angela why are you at a 90° angle

That is a Large Cigar

Mariah your makeup is killing it I must say

Low-key obsessed with the virginity rocks shirts

TED! i forgot this wasn't Joey's Pete, TED SHUT THE FUCK UP

woah a Monster

Ew Gendered T-shirts

'fuckin raisins? fuck this place' he's so me

Grace you motherfucker

I can't be mad I love her little clips

EHAT US THIS SONG

RIPPING THE SHIRTS TO SHOW MORE SHIRTS I LOVE IT

play 🙂 purpose 😌 and prayer 😘🙏

Girl Jeri I Think you need to calm down

why do they refer to eachother as Boy Jerry and Girl Jeri

ew GROSS

I OUGHTA COVER YOU IN SYRUP! GO MAKE A WALLET

someone get that boy some chocolate YES STEPH YOU READ MY MIND

LAUTSKI <333

HES A CHEMISTRY NERD LIKE ME

THAT LUSTFUL SHIRTLESS ANIMAL? SMOKEY THE BEAR?

rip gabe

SKINLESS???!?!!!

"Yep! I'm headed straight to hell!"

STEPH SEES THAT HE'S ACTUALLY KINDA CUTE

5 missing kids? What is this? Fnaf?

Steph what was that you just said

She really went "JK! JK!! ...unless?"

LUMBERAXE DON'T RUIN THIS

Lol Greenpeace girl reference

oopsie daisies they got caught

Boy Jerry you're a dick

LOCK HER IN?

SOLITARY CONFINEMENT?????

HUH?? BOY JERRY JEALOUS MUCH????? THE MAN DOTH PROTEST TOO MUCH

I OUGHTA PUT YOU IN A CANOE

I OUGHTA LET A BIRD WALK ALL OVER YOU

"Out in the woods, it's happening again."

the awkward kissing I cantttttt

oof ouch

Pretty sure that's illegal, locking kids up

I can't look at Boy Jerry without thinking of I OUGHTA PUT YOU IN A CANOE

girl Jeri screams, boy Jerry says 'ah shoot'

This is some freaky shit, Max Jagerman was right

"oh yeah, that"

LMAO PETE MADE IT SOUND LIKE TED WAS DEAD

boy jerry that's a bit extreme

LUMBERAXE don't RUIN this

Girl Jeri why would you raise a child in the WOODS

Both Jer(ry/i)s need therapy

You're gonna give the poor guy a heart attack, Steph

CASUALLY PICKS UP A TREE

grace!!! saving the day!!!

"Little Jerry" what the hell

THEY FORNICATED!!! IN YOUR WOODS!!!!

ouch! that's gotta hurt! (being split in two)

ouch! that's gotta hurt! (being punted into a tree)

Grace don't kill them

OH GOOD

"or else"

THAT WAS GREAT I LOVED THAT SO MUCH

Ok I'm about to start nightmare time 2 wish me luck

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Of something beautiful, but annihilating🚬5/end

Warnings: nonconsensual touching, fingering, deceptive behaviour, allusions to abuse, blood, violence/death, fucking.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Note: Another finale! Hahahhaa, hope you like it!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You went to bed with shame burning in your cheeks but the heat quickly travelled to your loins as you thought of the scene at the drive-in. When you closed your eyes, you felt Arvin’s weight on you and his hand between your legs. You rolled onto one side, then the other, tossing and turning as you couldn’t escape the memory or the lingering sensation of his touch.

He was already downstairs when you woke up, a lazy Saturday morning as the garage was closed for the weekends. He was at the counter, boiling water for the coffee as you came down in a plain peach dress and flats. He looked over his shoulder and smiled at you, urging you to sit.

“I’m gonna make you breakfast, honey,” he announced as he filled the coffee press, “you know, my ma was a waitress. Worked down at this greasy diner when she met my dad. Before she died…” he stopped and his throat bobbed, “I dunno, I just remember the smell of her cookin’.”

“I’m sorry, Arvin,” you said as you took a seat at the table, “about your mother.”

“Why? It was so long ago, I hardly remember,” he shrugged as he searched the cupboards and pulled out the cast iron pan, “you know, I can barely even see my pa in my mind. Even when I really think. I feel like I’ve lived a dozen lifetimes already.” He put the metal to the burner, “but I think I found the one I want.”

You ran your fingertips along your throat nervously as you leaned your elbows on the table. You felt the void left by your missing wedding ring. You clapped your hands together and lowered them to the wood.

You watched him work in the kitchen. When you tried once to get up and help, he bid you back down tersely and you obliged. You felt restless sitting there as someone else did everything. He put a cup of coffee before you and sipped from his own between flipping the eggs.

Finally, he presented you with a plate of hash, egg, toast, and bacon. You thanked him as he sat and you picked up your fork and knife. You weren’t very hungry, the anxiety squeezed your stomach as you watched his hand. He buttered a slice and you recalled the tingle as his fingers sank into you.

You dropped your fork and apologised for the loud clang. You picked it back up and pushed the potato around. You were trying to think of what to say. Of how to say it. Arvin wasn’t volatile like Roy but he showed glimmers of anger that troubled you nonetheless.

“Last night…” you began.

“You liked it?” he perked up and swallowed, “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Arvin,” you uttered.

“I just… you’re so wonderful and warm, I never known a woman like you,” he ranted, “and I… I never been with a woman, you know? I hope I didn’t leave you wanting--”

“Arvin,” you said more firmly, “I’m married.”

His face fell and he leaned back in his chair. He looked down as he scooped up some egg and hash and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed tight-lipped. His steely silence was worse than any punch. You shoved some yolk in your mouth and chewed.

“I…” you began, “I’m not meaning to upset you but we can’t just pretend--”

A deafening bang sounded and shook the house. Your breath caught as you looked at Arvin with wide eyes and he cleared his throat as he stood.

“Where is ya, boy?” Roy hollered as another blast came and you heard the door jolt. You rose and looked down the hall as slivers decorated the floor below the holes peppered in the wood. “I heard about you and my wife…” footsteps clamoured up the steps of the porch, “you think you can pull a gun on me? Well, I got a bigger one, boy!”

“Shit,” Arvin pulled you back as another gunshot blew out the handle, “go, hide.”

He shoved you away and turned back to the table. He tossed the butter knife and hurried to the counter. He pulled out a drawer and took out a steak knife. He shook his head and glanced over at you again.

“Go on,” he snarled.

“No, you,” you ran to him and touched his arm, “go, I’ll talk to him--”

“He’ll kill you,” he whispered.

“No, he won’t,” you assured, “he woulda done it years ago, Arvin, go.”

You pointed him to the back door and he shook his head. You met his eyes as he glanced back at you and you nodded. 

“It’ll be fine, I’ll get him gone and come find you when he goes,” you promised, “Arvin, I can’t see you die because of me.”

His eyes searched your face and he touched your cheek. “Alright, honey,” he breathed, “you know I’ll do anything for you, don’t you?”

“Go,” you insisted as the door flew inward with a heavy kick.

Arvin scrambled away and the back door creaked in his stead as you turned to near the doorway and peer past the staircase. Roy kept the double barrel level as he pointed it at you. You quivered but tried not to show your terror.

“Roy,” you greeted through your tight throat.

“You whore,” he cocked the gun and you flinched, “I oughta shoot your fuckin’ head off too, but I just want the boy. Where is he?”

“I… I dunno, he just went out front, I thought you woulda seen him,” you lied as you filled the doorframe with your body, realising the table set for two would give away your deception.

“Don’t you be hidin’ him from me, you’re still my wife,” Roy snarled as you came closer, trying to keep him from the kitchen, “and I’m gonna put down that punk and remind you who I am. Who you are.”

“I am your wife, Roy,” you said evenly, “I can never forget that, now please, lower the gun, I’ll help you find him.”

“I ain’t believe you, you let him beat me--”

“What was I supposed to do?” you touched the metal muzzle, “he been keepin’ me here. He has a gun too, you know that.” You slid past the barrel and hesitantly reached to touch his chest, “I been so scared without you here, you’re my husband, Roy, and I love--”

He sputtered and flinched suddenly. The gun sagged and fired into the floorboards beside your shoes. The metal slid from his grasp and fell down smoking as a red splotch stained the dingy fabric of his shirt. The cascade spread as he staggered and you saw the wooden handle of the steak knife stick out from his side.

Arvin pulled the blade out as you tripped over the gun and toppled to the floor. Roy slumped to his knees as the younger man brought the knife down over his shoulder and sank it into his heart. Your lungs puffed with panic at the sickly crunch as the blade twisted between his ribs.

Your eyes widened and blurred with tears as bitterness filled your stomach. You opened your mouth and screamed as Roy fell onto his stomach and gasped out his last breaths. You felt a slickness on your cheek as a hand touched you and an arm wrapped around you. You blinked and Arvin came clear as he held the knife against your face and pulled you into his lap to cradle you.

“Wh--wh--wh--” you babbled as your eyes found your husband, completely still across the floorboards.

“He can’t hurt you no more,” Arvin cooed as he rocked you, “I heard him, he said he was gon’ shoot you. I told you, honey, I’ll do anything for you. Anything to keep you safe.”

🚬

The porcelain was cold against your body as you sat in the tub, the hot water slowly rose around you. Arvin shoved your bloody clothes in a bag and took off his own. He tied up the sack, his hands still tinged scarlet. He put the bundle in the sink and neared the wall of the footed tub.

You watched him step over the side, his stomach tightly muscles, his figure much more slender than Roy’s, though his arms were thick and his shoulders wide. He lowered himself across from you as he sat with his back to the flowing faucet. The water deepened and scalded your skin.

He took a cloth and scrubbed your face, your neck, your chest above the surface of the water. You were numb as you felt itchy, as if bugs crawled over every inch of flesh. He stood you up and finished washing you. He was gentle but firm, lingering around your curves as his brown eyes drank you in.

He took a new cloth for himself and after wiping off the droplets across his face and rinsing his body, he scratched the red from around his nails. You shivered as he helped you out of the tub and hugged you in a towel. He led you to the bed and laid you down under the quilt.

“Gonna drive out and find a ditch,” he said as he dressed. “Finish cleaning when I get back. Probably need another bath then.”

You said nothing as you stared at the ceiling, a searing white.

“Honey,” he neared and pressed his hand to your forehead, “I know you’re shook. He tried to kill ya. We both heard him say it.”

You looked at him and your eyes dampened. He bent and pecked your lips and retracted his hand reluctantly.

“I’ll try not to be too long,” he promised and pulled on his denim jacket.

He left you and you listened to his footsteps fade. You closed your eyes and saw Roy’s blood spilling forth like a tainted river. You could hear the scraping as he was dragged across the wood, Arvin’s grunts as you watched him struggle to roll your husband’s large body in a sheet.

Your lashes flicked open but the picture is painted vivid in your mind. You hear the car and the engine fades into the soft sway of trees and the noise of critters in the grass. You don’t have the strength to do more than lay there. Time passes by your stagnant eyes and the shadows set in from the corner of the room. The windows darkened and deepened your gloom.

Arvin startled you as he appeared at the door. You didn’t hear the approach of his car or his footsteps on the stairs. He neared and kissed you again. He pulled the chain on the lamp and it cast a yellow haze over you.

“You’re awake,” he said as he stood straight, “I needa wash up again.” You hummed and stayed as you were, “you want tea?”

You shook your head and he watched you. He clamped his thin lips together and backed away.

“Found his truck, just down the way,” he pulled his grey tee over his head, “looks like he drove out to the river, walked up here. Make sure it was seen so he can’t be traced up here. Smarter than he looked.” Arvin bent to untie his boots. “I left it in the water, put it into gear and let it drift off.”

You rolled onto your side and pulled the blanket to your ear. He quieted as you listened to the rustle of his clothing as he stripped it away.

“Anyhow, they won’t find him,” he said, “likely he told whoever, if anyone even cared, that he was goin’ fishin’.”

He waited for an answer but didn’t get it. He went into the bathroom and you heard the pipes rattle as he twisted on the faucet. You felt the dampness cross the hallway and seep into the room. When he returned, he gave a sigh and tossed his towel over the old chair sat by your vanity.

He folded the blanket back and you closed your eyes at his nudity. He slid in next to you and tugged the blanket over his shoulders. He circled his arm around you and brought your body against his. Suddenly, you felt everything as you were set alight by the heat of his flesh.

“Honey,” he said softly as he framed your face with his hand, “I’m here. You’re safe with me.”

You quivered and pushed your hands to his chest. You’d never been naked with another man, never seen another man naked. In the tub, you hardly figured what was happening but then, it was all too real as you felt his cock twitch against your thigh.

“Didn’t I save you? He would killed both of us,” he rasped, “honey, I know, I’ve met so many men like him…” he rubbed his nose against yours, “and killed every one of them.”

You winced and your fingers curled into his shoulders. He smothered you with a kiss as his hand trailed down and he cupped your chest. He groaned as he fondled you, tilting his hips to rub his dick against you. He rolled your nipple under his thumb as he dragged his lips down your cheek and chin.

His hand crept around your side as he slipped lower to nibble your breasts. Roy never touched you like that. Early on he was clumsy but impatient, and after a while, he was thankless and cruel. Arvin was gentle, doting and diligent. He suckled at your bud and the tugging plucked at your core.

“Mmm,” he left a path of spit down your stomach as he nudged you onto your back, “honey, you’re so beautiful,” he disappeared beneath the blanket and pushed your legs apart as he nuzzled your pelvis, his hot breath tickling your patch of hair.

He purred as nosed your cunt and his tongue dipped between your folds. You murmured and reached down to grasp his damp hair. You brought your thighs against his head and arched your back as he tended to you, slow and scintillating as he filled you with a yearning you’d never known before.

You didn’t think as you tangled your fingers in his locks and tilted your pelvis against his lapping. You shouldn’t feel this way, should feel so good. Your husband was dead and there was another man in your bed. You were a whore, just as he said. But it felt good and he wasn’t there to tell you again.

Arvin moaned as he devoured you, his hands hungrily groped your ass as he lifted you slightly from the bed. He pushed a finger against your entrance and eased into you. You gasped and he dipped another inside of you. He moved his hand in time with his mouth, his groans rumbling through you.

You hooked your legs under his arm and cried out as you came. Your body spasmed and jerked and you rode out the shattering ascent. You shook as you stilled and kissed your thighs with his wet lips, smearing your juices across your flesh. 

You panted as he pushed himself up and the blanket fell down his back, leaving both your bodies bare to the soft glow of the lamp. His hands roved over your body and he bent again, kissing every inch his fingertips danced over first. He brought his lips back to yours and you tasted the sweetness as he forced his tongue into your mouth.

He pushed his thighs to yours so your legs bent around them, wide and welcoming. He parted and stared down at you, his deep brown eyes swallowing you up.

“The moment I saw you, I knew,” he said as he caressed your cheek, “and I haven’t stopped thinking of this ever since that moment.”

“Arvin,” you sighed and touched his wrist.

“I’ll take care of you, honey,” he reached down between your bodies as he planted and elbow into the pillow. He ran his tip along your wet folds and his jaw clenched. “I’ll keep you safe, I’ll keep you…” he pressed against you until his tip was inside you, “forever.”

“Arvin,” you gulped and gripped his muscled arms, “I…”

“He’s gone,” he sank further into you and kissed you again, “and you’re mine.”

You moaned and he bottomed out with a gasp. His body tensed and he shuddered as he wiggled his hips.

“God, you’re so perfect,” he groaned, “so warm, so… sweet. Oh, honey.”

“Please…” you croaked as your eyes watered.

You didn’t know if it was the bloodiness of the day or that you’d never felt anything so pleasant, so gentle, so caring. You didn’t know why you were crying or why your body buzzed like cicadas under the moon. You pushed your head into the pillow as he pressed his fingers to your clit and rubbed in time with his steady thrusts.

“Honey,” he droned and kissed your wet cheek between each stroke, “oh, you’re so nice.”

He tilted into you over and over. You brought your legs around him and hooked your arms under his as you clawed at his back. Your body contorted with his as your eyes rolled back and you succumbed to the stolid heat coursing through your veins. You cried out and let your hands fall down as you groped his ass, begging for more.

The bed quaked as he grew more fervent in his appetite, the pain was dulled by the sheer bliss and you sang out your delight. There was nothing but his body and that radiating pulse in your core. You came again and again as you whined ravenously and dug your nails into his flesh.

He jerked into you with a fluttery breath. His hips stuttered and he fell limp over you. His head hung over your shoulder as he huffed. His cum coated your walls in a salacious heat and you ran your hands up his back. He turned his head to kiss your temples, tears still rolling down to your lobes.

As your nerves stilled and the afterglow dimmed, reality shrouded you once more. The body over yours felt heavier as you were paralysed against the bed. Arvin drew you with him as he rolled onto his side and held you. It was nice but tinged with the horror wrought by his hands.

You didn’t miss Roy but you didn’t feel free either.

🚬

Arvin rolled out the rug over the bloodstain in the hall, the whole covered over  with a thin board of scrap. You watched and clutched your purse then checked the clock. He stood and neared to fetch his jacket from the small square corner table. He pulled it over the button-up that once belonged to your dad and the tie that was Roy’s.

His hair was combed back tidily and he wore a carefree smile. His eyes twinkled as he offered his hand and gestured to the door. The frame was curtained with a sheet as the shredded wood was removed and another would be ordered from Tim’s Hardware. He clung to your hand as he followed you out into the Sunday sunlight.

“We don’t have to go,” you said as he swung your hand and led you to the Chevrolet, “I know you don’t like it.”

“Nah, we should go to church,” he smiled and spun you to kiss you. He held your face between your hands as his lips lingered overly long. “Let the lord and all the other holy people see me and my girl.”

“Arvin,” you shied away.

He reached past you and opened the door. You sat and he gripped the metal as he looked down at you.

“I will keep my hands to myself before the lord,” he avowed, “I only ask his blessing for what I know to be his work.”

You considered him and wrung the short strap of your purse, “I thought you didn’t believe in God.”

“I didn’t, not before,” he said with a smile, “not ‘til I met you. His most precious angel.”

You chewed your lip and turned your face down. He chuckled and closed the door. He got in the driver’s side and the engine rolled over. His hand wandered over to your lap as he steered with one hand. You looked out the window and stared up at the pale blue sky.

You didn’t believe in God. You couldn’t. Just like your father said, a benevolent lord would not gift such suffering to his creation. There was no all-knowing being sitting in the clouds, no glorious purpose for you or any other. There were only devilish men and their dark deeds.

[angelatmidnight1]

For the match up thing, (tickles plz)

I’m a very shy person because of social anxiety.

I love video games

Once I get to know someone, I’m super loud and hyper. I love making stupid jokes that everyone thinks is annoying. In general, if I’m comfortable with you I’m gonna be annoying and never leave your side.

I know this is kinda bad but I really wanna see who I would get paired up with!!!

Hi! I think I recognize you, and I matched you up with Fuse. Mirage was a very close second. I hope you like it! Guitar Hero inspired me for this one.

Bring The Noise!

You’ve bonded with Fuse over video games, but you can’t accept that he’s better than you. You tickle him to get him to mess up, and all hell breaks loose.

Let’s face it; you weren’t a renown tracker, like Bloodhound. Or a professional thief, like Loba. You didn’t have a killer instinct like Revenant or Ash. And, up until recently, you couldn’t shoot a gun without flinching. So, what was your claim to fame as an Apex Legend? 

Well, that’s something that you were still trying to figure out. Not everyone made it to the Apex Games, and that had to mean something, right? Kuben Blisk saw something in you. But, now you were trying to see just what that something was. 

This didn’t help with your interactions with the other Legends. Although you didn’t have any proof, you were certain that the others didn’t think highly of you. Legends like Revenant, Ash, and Caustic didn’t count though; they didn’t think highly of anyone except themselves. As for the others, though, you were convinced that anyone who looked your way was judging you.

So, you kept to yourself and, when you weren’t training or competing, you busied yourself with your favorite hobby: video games. And today, you found the common room empty. Given how crowded the dropship was, it was almost too good to be true. You grabbed your favorite snack and drink before turning on the TV. You loaded up the game console, and picked up the guitar needed for Guitar Hero 5. 

You viewed the leaderboard before you played, smiling. Forget the Apex Games, this was where you shone, and no one had taken your spot as #1. You put your name as Legend123 on the leaderboards to not draw too much attention. Unbeknownst to you, having an anonymous screen name sparked some funny arguments between Octane, Crypto, and Mirage. Octavio claimed that he was #1, but Elliott said that he was bluffing and that it was actually him. And then, he dragged Crypto’s name through the mud by accusing him of hacking the game and changing his name on the leaderboard. Crypto argued that neither of the morons had the attention span to finish a game. And that kept the argument going.

You decided to start by playing 2 Minutes to Midnight. Since you were alone, you felt comfortable enough to hum along and nod to the beat. You had your own private concert…that is, until you had an audience. 

Ol Fusey approached you from behind, six pack of beer in hand. The weather in the Outlands was nicer than normal, so he was on his way outside until he heard the music. He grinned, taking a swig of his drink, and waited for the song to end before speaking. 

“Well, someone’s a rockstar in the makin’, ay?”

Flinching, you whirled around to face Fuse. You held the guitar in a tighter grip to keep from dropping it. 

“Oh,” you breathed, fumbling to come up with a response longer than one word. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Walter’s grin widened as he rounded the couch. “You oughta get yourself a guitar of your own.” he said, standing beside you. “I’m more of an acoustics man myself, but this lot could use another ax player around here if ya ask me.”  

You nodded, unconsciously leaning away from him. Clearly this guy had no qualms about personal space. “I never thought about playing the guitar before,” you admitted. “I guess I just like the music in this game.”

“Right, just imagine the same on the big stage, ay?” Walter went to nudge you with his good arm but stopped short, noticing how much further away you were. That’s when he realized - he hadn’t introduced himself!

“Hell, where’re my manners? Name’s Walter Fitzroy, better known as Fuse.” This time, he extended his metal arm out to you. You scooted towards him, visibly hesitating, and gripped his hand. 

“(Y/N).” You responded, quietly. You expected him to let go afterwards, but instead, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Don’t worry, it don’t bite. And neither do I, ay?” He chuckled. He released your hand before he downed the rest of his drink. You took the opportunity to go back to the song list. Although you had a blast in your jam session, having someone watch made you feel self-conscious. So, when you moved to turn off the game, you weren’t expecting Fuse to say what he said next. 

“Say, you reckon I can play a few rounds with ya?”

You stared at him, thinking he was joking. Walter put his hands up defensively.

 “I’ll admit, video games weren’t my thing back on Salvo. But you kids seem to go downright mad for ‘em.” Fuse continued, grinning. “I’d like to see what the fuss is all about.” 

You were still standing there, dumbfounded, and waited for any indication that he was pulling your leg. But, there was an earnestness in Walter’s smile, and it made you crack a smile of your own.

“Sure, let’s play.”

Over time, the friendship between you and Fuse blossomed. He was really easy to talk to, and although you started slow, you found yourself talking just about everything. You mainly talked about gaming though, and now that you were more comfortable, you let more of your personality shine. 

“Hey, did you know head banging gives you bonus points?” You grinned, throwing a quick glance his way. Fuse didn’t look at you. His brow was knit in concentration as he strummed and pressed on the buttons. 

“Then why aren’t you doing it? You could use a few points.”

“Wha--hey!” You giggled, sticking your tongue out. Teaching Fuse how to play had been anything but boring; you were having a blast!  But he learned faster than you anticipated, and had gotten pretty good. You didn’t want to admit it, but he was close to beating your high score. 

“After all I’ve taught you, that’s the thanks I get?” You waited for a lull in the song before you moseyed up to him, jabbing him in the side. Fuse flinched and mashed two buttons. 

“Watch where you’re pokin’, ay?” He batted you away with his good arm, putting the guitar’s neck against his shoulder. You blinked, poking him again anyway, and he leaned further away from you. “(Y/N)! Knock it off!” 

“...I didn’t know you were ticklish…” You smirked, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You paused the game, prompting him to turn towards you with extended arms.

“Hey now, just cause yer gettin’ your arse handed to you in the game, doesn't mean that you hafta resort to cheatin!” he accused. You playfully gasped and lunged at him, but he held you back. 

“You take that back! Only reason why I’m losing is because I’m helping you!” You yelled back. You made every attempt to wiggle out of his hold, but he didn’t budge. Walter cocked his head to the side and grinned. 

“So you’re lettin’ me win?”

“NO! I’m saying you’re not as good as you think you are.” You gave up on trying to poke him again; now, Fuse was lightly pushing your forehead to keep you from advancing forward. You flailed your arms around, making the scene look that much funnier. Walter snickered. 

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we? That is, if you’re done pesterin’ me.” 

Pursing your lips, you stopped flailing your arms, nodding. “Yeah yeah, I’m done.” You repeated. Walter raised a brow, looking skeptical, and you gave him the most innocent grin you could muster. “I pwomise.”

The Salvonian still wasn’t buying it, but he let you go. “Alright mate, but know this,” he started, looking you dead in the eye with a smirk of his own. “You try ‘n tickle me again, and it’ll be yer funeral, ay?”

 Fuse’s threat echoed in your head as the two of you resumed the game. He managed to pull ahead but, with the guitar solo coming up, it was a great opportunity to earn a lot of points. And you were determined to keep your crown. 

You hit the notes as they came up, wanting to get your score as close to his before striking. The beat had picked up, but you’d played this song so many times, you probably could’ve done it blindfolded. While playing, you ever so slightly sidestepped towards Fuse, glancing at him every now and then to make sure he didn’t notice. And then, just before the big finish, you let go of your guitar and gripped his side, squeezing. Fuse cried out and lurched away from you, missing at least five notes. 

“Aha! You lihihttle--” Walter took the guitar from around his shoulders, tossing it onto the couch behind him. “So that’s how you wanna play, huh? Come here!”

Fuse tried to grab you, and you just barely dodged him. Then, throwing your guitar off your shoulders, you made a beeline for the exit. Fuse chased after you, hot on your tail, and you screamed and laughed down your way down the hall. 

He was gaining on you faster than you’d anticipated, so you had to get creative. You vaulted over tables, pushed chairs behind you, and even changed directions on a dime in order to get away. But nothing worked; at this rate, Fuse was gonna catch you, and there were only so many places you could run. Just before you could duck down another hallway, Walter lunged forward and grabbed you with his metal arm. 

“Gotcha!” He cheered, easily picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. You squealed and squirmed in his grip. 

“No! Walter, don’t!” You protested, your squirming intensifying as he brought you back into the common room. He dropped you onto the couch and immediately descended onto your sides, making you burst out giggling. 

“Oh no, I tried to play your game, but this is more your speed, ay?” He dodged your flailing hands, drilling his thumbs into your hips, and you laughed harder.

“NOhohohohohoho! It’s nahahaht! It’s nahahahat!” You squealed, deciding to try to block access to your torso with your arms. Fuse stopped you by using his metal hand to scoop up your wrists, holding them above your head. You panicked and cried out when he poked at your ribs. “I wohohohn’t dohohohoho it agahahahahin!”

Walter scoffed, scritching at the spaces between your ribcage. “Yeah nah, I’m a man of my bloody word, mate.” He responded, grinning. He reached higher and dug into your armpit, making your laughter grow in pitch.

“I WOHOhohohohohn’t!” You insisted, tossing to and fro when he drilled his thumb into the hollows. “Plehehehease! I prohohm-prohohomise--”

The Salvonian gave you a skepticl look and you froze. Frantically, you tried to elaborate on what you said. 

“WAHAHAAHIT! I mehehehan it this tihihme! WALTER!”

All of a sudden, Fuse released your arms and attacked both of your armpits. You screamed and slammed your arms against your sides, your laughter filling up the room. 

“STAHAHAHAHAHA!” You squealed. You squeezed your arms against your side, trying to deter him from tickling, but he easily kept wiggling his fingers around. 

“Now I know you think my head doesn’t screw on straight, if you think I’m fallin’ for that again!” Fuse chided. He drilled his fingers into your armpits some more before pulling his hands free, scribbling along the length of your rib cage. You arched your back, making a grab for his hands. 

“I’d nehehehever thihihk thahaht! Come on!” You managed to latch onto his good hand and tried to push it away from your torso. Fuse smirked and wrenched his hand free, pinning your hand back above your head. 

“Right, you’d rather cheat and call yourself good, ay?” He mocked, using his free hand to pinch and knead your sides. You drummed your legs against the couch, your loud giggles now riddled with the occasional snort. 

“Nahahahahahaha! Whyhyhy ahahre you sohohoho mahahad about a gahahahame!?” You squeaked. Since you still had one hand free, you kept on trying to protect yourself from Fuse’s wrath, but had way less success keeping his metal hand at bay. “I dihihihdn’t knohohw yohuhuhu--yohuhuhu were so short-fused…”

You couldn’t help it; the joke was right there, and although every part of you screamed to not say it, you did it anyway. It was fun to push Fuse’s buttons, but that look he gave you spelled trouble backwards and forwards. 

Walter didn’t say anything; he just took your wrists back into his metal hand and re-pinned them above your head. Then, he clawed at your belly, making you drop a sudden howl of laughter. 

“NONONOHOHOHO! I’M SOHOHOHORRY!” You screamed and bucked your hips, but Walter pressed on, tickling from one side of your tummy to the other. 

“Nah, keep makin’ your jokes. Shows you ain’t learned your lesson yet.” Fuse held onto your side and used his thumb to knead into the sides of your stomach. You threw your head back with laughter and thrashed along the couch. 

“YEHEHEHES I HAHAHVE!” You insisted, squealing when he pinched your hips. You uselessly tugged at your wrists, but you had a higher chance of flying than you did getting your hands free. “NOHOHOHO MOHOHORE JOHOHOKES!”

But Fusey had other ideas. He stopped tickling you, giving you a chance to breathe, but he didn’t completely release you. Instead, he turned and pushed you so that your torso was hanging off the edge of the couch. You yelped, expecting to fall, but Walter wasn’t gonna let that happen to you. You were hanging upside down and your shirt rose up because of it, making it easier for Fuse to attack again. 

Instead of diving straight for the kill, Fuse poked at your exposed sides, making you snicker. 

“Wahahahalter!” You whined. You tried to sit up, but you were at a pretty awkward angle, and the tickling wasn’t helping. “I sahahahahid I’m sohohohrry!”

“I heard you. I just doubt that very much.” Fuse answered, drumming his fingers across your tummy to get your other side. He heard you snort again and chuckled. “I know how you like to say one thing and do something else, ay?”

You shook your head, opening your mouth to speak, only to scream again when he descended back onto your tummy. He didn’t tickle too hard; he just scratched up and down your torso, giving it the occasional pinch to make you squeal. You squirmed like crazy, and Fusey had to hold your legs a little tighter to be doubly sure you didn’t fall.

“OKAHAHAHAY! OKAHAHAHAY!” Were the two words you were finally able to scream after you’d fallen into hysterics. Fuse slowed the tickling down, chuckling. 

“You reckon you’ve learned your lesson now? Or d’ya need another one?” He asked while slowly raking his nails above your hip bones. You shook your head again, blowing loose strands of hair out of your face. 

“I’ve lehehehearned my lesson! Plehehehease!” You panted. That was good enough for Walter, so he finally stopped tickling you and pulled you back up onto the couch. You groaned and collapsed next to him, still trying to catch your breath. Fuse grinned and playfully nudged you. 

“Good, glad we could sort that out.” He teased, jabbing you in your sides again. You squealed and rolled towards the other end of the couch. Walter laughed and went to do it again, but he paused when he heard some music coming from the hallway. “Did you leave the game on?”

You furrowed your brows and sat up to hear it better. “Er, no. The song should’ve ended ages ago.”

Both of you got up to investigate, but you wouldn’t arrive before Mirage finished the song he was playing. He grinned and made some decoys to stand in for his adoring fans. 

“...And the crowd goes wild…ahhh…” He snickered, making his decoys disappear so he could plug in the new name on the top of the leaderboards: his! Elliott’s name always looked so good in lights, whether that be on a screen or a giant banner. 

“Heh, eat your heart out, nerds.”

[t-wordy-kk]

Things a Man Oughta Know

Look who finally returned!! I know I promised this last week, but I needed a little bit more time to develop the storyline. That being said, I hope to post a lot more this year and work on my time management a little bit better. Either way, I hope you all enjoy! I think I took out all of the pronouns indicating that the reader is a female, so I’m 99% sure this fic is completely gender-neutral towards the reader, other than the song lyrics. I also linked the song I used if anyone wants to take a listen! 💜

(Warnings: Minor bit of language towards the end, little bits of angst here and there, slow burn between Bucky & reader)

Word count: 3,443 (including song lyrics)

Based on the song by Laney Wilson

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey Y/N, how’s the packing going?” Bucky asked, walking into your room as you ran around, trying to find everything you needed.

He knew you were getting ready to leave on a camping trip with your new boyfriend, but something seemed off about the new one. You’ve been in failed relationships before, and it hurt him to see so many guys treating you wrong when you were the perfect one to be with.

I can hook a trailer on a two-inch hitch

I can shoot a shotgun, I can catch a fish

“I’m just looking for my-”

“Bait hooks?” Bucky asked in response, grabbing the box off of your dresser and tossing it over. “And here’s the extra box of your fishing line.”

“You know me so well,” you responded with a warm smile. “I know I say this every time I find someone, but I really feel like he’s the one. Every other guy has shown the wrong signs, and I never picked up on them, but this time, there’s nothing wrong that I can see. And I’ve probably seen everything at this point.”

“I’ve seen it all too,” Bucky added, love evident in his eyes. Ever since he met you, he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life. Your adventurous spirit, kindness towards others, you were a determined force that couldn’t be stopped, and he loved that about you. Although, he didn’t want to undermine anyone you found, even though he could tell there was something off about every single person you were with. So, he let you roam, knowing that you would never want to be tied down.

I can change a tire on the side of a road

Yeah, I know a few things a man oughta know

“Any big plans for this trip?”

“Oh, you know, just some regular outdoorsy stuff, like fishing, sitting by the fire, all of that good stuff. I’ve already got the trailer ready too, it’s gonna be great. Have a great weekend, Bucky,” You said, wrapping him in a hug, which he didn’t hesitate to return.

Bucky was always there for you, anytime things went south, he would always make you feel better, and you always appreciated it. Whether it was a lazy day with movies and ice cream while you tried to get over the latest guy who broke your heart, or someone willing to do all of the crazy things with you that nobody else would, he was the greatest person you ever met, but you never saw that he loved you the way he did.

“Just be safe Y/N. And if you need anything, I’m there in a heartbeat.”

How to know when it’s love

How to stay when it’s tough

Two days later, you made your way back to the compound, Bucky coming out to the driveway to greet you only to find you in tears.

“Hey, what happened?”

“H-he broke up w-with me Bucky, I don’t know w-what I did wrong.” Crying into his shoulder, he picked you up bridal style, carrying you into the compound so he could start trying to ease your mind. It hurt him to see you like this, knowing that it happened every time you met someone new. They’d act perfect, just to take advantage of your kindness and break your heart, over and over.

How to know you’re messing up a good thing

And how to fix it ‘fore it’s too late

“Is-”

“Yeah, the guy hurt Y/N. Just like every other one,” Bucky responded to Steve, who passed by in the hall and watched as you dozed off in Bucky’s arms, the slight rocking motion helping you drift off into a peaceful sleep after the mess of a weekend you had.

“This is the perfect way to spend the weekend, isn’t it Dan?” You softly said, leaning into his shoulder as you sat on the edge of the small dock near your campsite, casting your fishing line into the pond.

“Yeah, it really is,” He replied, a hint of emotion in his voice.

“Is everything okay? Something seems different.”

“I’m fine, it can wait until tomorrow.”

“No, I’m here to help, that’s my job as your person babe. What’s going on?” You asked, concern lacing your features as you released the fish that you caught.

“It’s just, oh, I feel like this isn’t working like it should. I know we’ve been together for 3 months, but this just isn’t what I imagined it to be.”

“Well, I can fix it, I’m willing to put in the work if you-”

“That’s just it, I think you’re too dedicated to this whole thing. You know how they say boyfriends and girlfriends come and go, it’s common in life and I think more people need to recognize that.”

“Are you serious?” You asked, your concern changing to heartbreak as you felt every broken emotion you ever experienced.

“I hate to do this cause you’re such a great person, but this just isn’t going to work in the way you probably thought it would. Hopefully there’s someone out there that helps you see things the way I do.”

“No, that’s not how boyfriends and girlfriends work, I can change something to make it work, I swear-”

“Y/N, look at me,” Dan firmly stated, grabbing your shoulders so you faced him. “This isn’t a you problem, it’s a me problem. And there’s nothing you can do to fix it.”

But yeah, I know a boy

Who gave up and got it wrong

“Are you sure?” You asked, tears beginning to well in the corners of your eyes.

“I’m sure. The time we had together, I’ll remember it, but it just isn’t what I want. And I don’t want to keep trying when I know it isn’t right to lie about wanting this, us, to end up the way we could.”

“Thanks for being forward about it, I guess. The time we had together was great, it was nice knowing you Dan.”

“You too Y/N.”

If you really love a woman, don’t let her go

Yeah, I know a few things a man oughta know

“I-I’m sorry Bucky, I shouldn’t be complaining to you like I am, I just have to deal with it,” You whispered, continuing to quietly cry in his arms. “I just don’t understand why he dropped everything we had, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Y/N, look at me,” He softly replied as he tilted your chin up, your tear-stained eyes meeting his. “I will always, always be here for you when you need someone. You shouldn’t have to go through this on your own, and I’m not letting you go through it on your own. Anytime you need a shoulder to lean on, mine’s always here for you, and whenever you need me, I’ll be here.”

“Thanks Bucky, you’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had.” Wrapping him in a hug, you didn’t know how much he wanted you to be his. But you just went through so much, he wouldn’t mess with it now. That’s just who he was, and how he planned to stay.

*Timeskip to a few months later…*

If I can’t have it, I can do without

I can hang a picture same as I can take it down

“Is Y/N around, I need help with something in the lab,” Tony yelled from the kitchen, trying to find something to satisfy his appetite.

“Y/N went out with this Brandon guy, something was mentioned about him last month. There’s all kinds of pictures of them if you go look at the side table in Y/N’s room,” Bucky mentioned from the lounge from his seat on the couch, a hint of snarkiness in his voice.

“Sounds like they’re having a wonderful time. What about you man, when are you gonna say something?”

“Say what, there’s nothing to tell,” Bucky defensively responded, a hint of concern flashing through his features.

“Y/N’s never gonna know how you feel if you don’t say something. We can all see it, you’re head over heels and you have been since you two met. But Y/N doesn’t see those things unless someone brings it up. And Y/N’s an easy believer, which is what all of the other guys have taken advantage of. Just, give it a shot if you get a chance, we can all tell the answer would be yes just based on how your personalities click.” As Tony left the room, munching on some sort of snack food, the elevator dinged, making it known that someone was there.

“I can’t believe it,” You whispered, tears falling from your eyes after yet another heartbreak.

“Oh, hey Y/N, Tony was just looking for–hey, come here, what happened?” Bucky mentioned, wrapping you in his arms once he noticed your eyes, which were stained with tears once more.

“What do you mean, everything’s fine Bucky, just got back from watching one of those upsetting rom-coms, you know?” You answered, a small fake giggle leaving your lips. “I should probably go, I’ll see you later.”

You made sure he didn’t see the tears or the heartbreak, the pain that laced your features. Shards of glass littered your wood floor, every picture frame that held a memory of Brandon now broken and scattered across the room, with the sudden downpour of rain adding to your dejected mood. He’d never know anything was wrong, you learned how to keep your heartbreak hidden after the continuous boyfriend mishaps, as much as it pained you every time.

And how to keep it hidden when a heart gets broke

Yeah I know a few things a man oughta know

Not long after you began letting the new tears fall free, having accidentally stepped on a randomly strewn glass shard, you heard knocking on your door. “Who is it?”

“Y/N, it’s Bucky, can I maybe come in?”

He heard the creaking of your mattress followed by the soft padding of your feet, figuring out you were slowly making your way across the room. The door quietly creaked open, revealing the fake smile he couldn’t take any more of.

“Hey, what do you need?”

“I need you to stop lying to me,” He softly answered, letting himself in. “I need you to tell me what’s really going on and why you’ve felt the need to lie about what’s going on with you. And where’s the blood coming from?”

“I’m, uh, on my period?” You meekly replied, trying to hop towards your bathroom to the first aid kit, your new wound not going unnoticed.

“Y/N, what happened?” Bucky asked frantically, now noticing the mess of glass, broken frames, and ruined pictures all over the floor. As well as the trail of blood continuing to drip everywhere you moved. “Stop moving, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Bucky, I’m fine, I promise.”

“No you aren’t Y/N. There’s no need to hide, it’ll help you more to open up than to shove all of your feelings away.” Grabbing the first aid kit, he made his way over to your bed, trying to determine the best method to remove the glass and clean the wound.

“We broke up. Said I wasn’t good enough anymore, that he wanted me to change the entirety of myself to fit into the world, I told him no, and the rest is history, just like everyone else.”

You were numb. Sure, heartbreak hurt, but now you were emotionless with it all. And Bucky could see the difference in your reaction, he could see the blankness in your eyes, the lack of emotion in your features. You had lost weight, he could see it much better now. And it pained him to know that it was all because of the man that you believed to be perfect for you, when he hurt you so much and you didn’t even see it because of how he masked his insults and carelessness. All Bucky wanted now was to make you feel like you were loved, that there was truth left in the world for you to have.

How to know when it’s love

How to stay when it’s tough

“Y/N, I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you. I want you to know that I’ll be here by your side when things get tough for you. Anything you need, I’m here, whether it’s game night with the team and you need a partner, or someone to be by your side when you need to get rid of the negativity in your life, I’ll be here.” Continuing to clean the wound on your foot, Bucky didn’t get a chance to see the look of admiration that appeared on your face as your heart soared out of your chest. “You’re lucky that you don’t need stitches for this Y/N, considering how big of a piece of glass that is.”

“Bucky, I don’t know what to say, that means so much to me,” You replied, a soft giggle leaving your lips as he accidentally brushed his fingers across a sensitive spot on your foot.

“Sorry doll, did that hurt?” He asked in response, not realizing at first what he had done.

“No, I’m fine, thanks again for helping me.”

“Anything for you Y/N.” Brushing across a different spot, he caught onto what he was doing, trying to sneakily test his theory without you realizing. Once he finished bandaging the wound on your foot, you tried to leave as quickly as possible, but he wouldn’t let you. “Let me clean up this glass first, before you start trying to go anywhere.”

As soon as the glass was cleaned up, you hopped off of your bed, ready to leave your room, but once again, you were stopped.

“Wait, where are you going? There might still be some small glass pieces on the floor, you could get hurt again.”

“I think I’m okay Bucky, I already ran into it once,” You argued with a laugh, trying to step around him, but his hands moving to your hips stopped you in an instant.

“I think you’ve been hiding something from me Y/N.” Picking you up and softly putting you back on your bed, Bucky wasted no time in pinning your wrists and lightly scratching at your side.

“Buhuhcky nohoho”

“Bucky yes,” He replied with a smile, quickening the pace of his fingers, eliciting more laughter from your lips. He could listen to your laugh all day, as long as he knew it meant you were happy.

Giving up on pinning your wrists above your head, his fingers shot into your underarms, rapidly wiggling both his human and metal fingers into the soft skin he found there, not realizing the strength of the reaction that came from you.

“NAHAHAHA NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE”

“But this is still okay, good.” A slight smirk made its way to Bucky’s face as his hands moved down to your ribs, digging his fingers into the bones. Loud laughter and squeals erupted from you, Bucky himself even beginning to laugh a little bit. “Are you ready to admit you were hiding this from me?”

“FIHIHIHINE”

“Fine what?” Sliding down to your legs, his fingers drifted around your feet where they were ready to strike, careful to not hurt the wound that he just bandaged.

“I cahahan’t say ihitit,” You said as you giggled and gasped for air, grateful for the release.

“Hmm, that just won’t do, I can’t put up with it,” Bucky replied, wiggling his fingers along your soles, your giggles becoming more and more frantic.

“Nohohoho”

“Just say it Y/N,” He sang, barely tapping his fingertips along your soles, your laughter nearly becoming silent. “Woah, breathe a little bit for me there.”

“IHIHIHIm TIHIHIHCKLISH”

“There, it wasn’t that hard, now was it?”

Sitting up in his arms, you wrapped him in a hug, trying to convey how much he meant to you without words, but it wasn’t enough. “Thanks for everything, Bucky.”

“My pleasure doll, it’s what friends do.”

“And I love you for it.” Those six words flew out of your lips before you could realize it, your true feelings making their way into the air, all while Bucky just stared. Your emotions flashed between desperation, heartbreak, and soon fear, after truly thinking about what you had just said.

“What?”

“Nothing, I, uhm, I’ve gotta go, thanks again for helping me out Bucky.” Sliding your shoes on, you quickly made your way out of your room, Bucky following close behind.

“Y/N wait!” But by the time he yelled, you were already out the door of the compound, beginning to run down the long driveway while the thunder from the newly developed storm crashed throughout the sky.

How to chase forever down a driveway

How to never let it get there in the first place

By the time he caught up to you, thankful for his enhanced running speed, you both were soaked. As you turned around, not being able to tell the difference between raindrops and teardrops, you saw the man you shoved all your feelings deep down for. You never wanted to admit you were hopelessly in love with him, always choosing to shove them away and try to find someone else. And now, you believed it to be too late, your chance at being with the one you truly loved now gone.

“Y/N, stop running away! It isn’t going to help anything!” Bucky yelled, you barely being able to hear him over the storm raging above both of your heads.

“I can’t do it anymore Bucky! I can’t hide it like I have been anymore, I’m hopelessly in love with you and I don’t care if the entire world hears it because dammit, I’ve loved you since the day I first heard you say ‘just call me Bucky.’ Every single time I look at you, I see my forever, the only one that truly knows me. And I don’t care if you don’t want it, because if you don’t, I’ll just go find another way to manage. But I want you to know, from the very bottom of my heart, that I fucking love you James Buchanan Barnes, with my whole life.”

“Who the hell said I wasn’t in love with you Y/N? Who in their right mind ever said that I didn’t enjoy the way you walk into my room unannounced to make fun of Steve, or the way you make my heart flutter anytime you say you have an idea that’s just a little bit dangerous. Your adventurous spirit, your kindness towards others, everything that all the others have taken advantage of, I fucking love that about you and I can’t believe you love me too. I never wanted to let you go from the moment you said ‘hey’ and gave that little wave of yours that sends my heart on a damn rollercoaster filled with loops. So yes, I love you too, and I want my forever to be just like yours, the two of us together the way we always wanted but never knew until now.”

And yeah, I know a boy

Who gave up and got it wrong

“All of the other boys who gave up on you, they were wrong to give up. They weren’t willing to try to see things the way you did, the amazing view you have on the world and everything in it. But I do know how you see things and I love that about you Y/N. I’ll love you until the end of the line and I’ll never, ever let you go.”

Throwing yourself into Bucky’s arms, a mixture of raindrops and teardrops falling down both of your faces, your lips pressed against his as your arms made their way around his neck, his arms moving to your waist.

If you really love a woman, don’t let her go

Well, I know a few things a man oughta know

“I love you Bucky, I really do love you.”

“I love you too Y/N, more than you’ll ever know. Let’s get you inside, you’re soaked.”

“You’re pretty rained on over there too Bucky.”

As the rain continued to pour, you and Bucky both ran hand-in-hand back into the compound, a smile gracing both of your faces. He was everything you ever wanted, and you never thought it would take that many broken relationships, but now, you had someone who knew a few things a man oughta know.

Yeah, I know a few things a man oughta know