#also for boosting thumbs up emoji

[wyvolf]

Who next should get a symmetrical icon ? I’ll eventually get to them all but I’m having trouble with in order, these will be based on the more classic designs- ie the stuff you type in google and it’s the first few results (blue hair white man iceberg for example), also I know I drew clef before but that was a quick headshot and not a proper icon

*most likely won’t do original 963 holder, or Shaw (personal reasons lol). If I may self advertisement grins, more than happy to do specific designs/requests (such as personal designs that differ from “canon”, or perhaps even for those with fictional introjects), or even OCs, it’s for just 5 dollar bucks via PayPal or kofi usd!

[harringtonswriting]

Omg Bree that list!! I would love to read 25. goodnight kisses with Bradley?🥺

ahhhh thank you so much Nova!! <3 i am SO sorry it took me so long to get this finished, but i hope you enjoy it!! god this was so adorable to write and i really, REALLY appreciate you picking this one bc it was such a cute idea <3

...

This was the best first date you’d had in a long time. Probably the best first date you’ve ever been on, if you’re being honest, but that’s not something you’re going to admit to your date. You didn’t want to give his ego that big of a boost this early, and also didn’t want him to think about your dating history being any sadder than he might already think it is.

Bradley Bradshaw had asked you out the night you met him at the Hard Deck, where he was drinking with his friends and you’d been convinced by yours to come out for some drinks and the promise of some very pretty Naval officers to look at. Which, you were happy to find, there were plenty of. Bradley included.

You’d thought he was just another good-looking flyboy when he’d walked up to you at the bar top, though his endearing smile and his outrageous taste in fashion had you intrigued enough to say yes; you had no idea how he still managed to look attractive wearing bright blue and magenta, but that coupled with his 70s-esque mustache and very pretty, big brown eyes ended up winning you over. You’d put your number in his phone, let him buy you a drink, and your friends teased you for the better part of an hour about giving your number to the first pilot who talked to you. But there was something special about Bradley, something genuine and funny and maybe you were a little tipsy, but you didn’t regret giving him your number.

Bradley messaged you the following afternoon to ask you to dinner this coming Friday night, and after the initial awkwardness (he’d responded to you with just a thumbs up emoji and you’d used maybe a few too many exclamation points), the two of you fell into an easy rhythm of texting back and forth. You find yourself enjoying talking with him, and looking forward to seeing his name pop up on your phone.

All too quickly, though, Friday night arrives and he picks you up in what is obviously a very old, but very well loved, truck. He’s got sunglasses on, big mirrored aviators, but no Hawaiian shirt tonight (he’d later tell you that he’d received advice that he should wear something a little more toned down for the first date, and you couldn’t say that a black t-shirt and jeans didn’t suit him just as well as what he’d been wearing the night you met him). He’d lifted his sunglasses off his face, clipping them on the front of his shirt as he got out of his truck, and a wide grin split across his face as he caught sight of you coming out of your house.

“You look amazing,” he says, and the words come out loud and earnest–it’s a genuine compliment, and his smile is infectious to boot. You smile as you return the sentiment.

“Not so bad yourself. I like this look,” you tell him, and you see him puff his chest out just a bit. As you walk towards him, he reaches into his truck and comes back out with a bouquet of sunflowers tied with a yellow ribbon. He holds them out to you, and you take them from his hands.

“These are for you,” he says, and you look down at the flowers. They’re beautiful, the loveliest shade of yellow from soaking up the warmth and love of the sun. “I didn’t know what you liked, but they reminded me of your smile, so I hope these are okay.” Bradley’s just a little bashful, and you rest one hand on his forearm.

“They’re beautiful,” you tell him, and it’s the truth. They are, and the fact that they reminded him of you? You don’t know how he can say that with a straight face, and if it came from anyone else you might be embarrassed. You still are, a little, but you’re just a little pleased, too, that he’s been thinking about you. You take the flowers inside, quickly putting them in a tall glass of water before heading back out to where Bradley and the Bronco are waiting. You head around to the passenger side door to pull it open… but it won’t budge. You try again, but still no dice. Oh, god, did you break his car? This is a classic, right? That’s what a lot of older cars are. He gets you beautiful flowers and you break his car. Wonderful. You look at Bradley, and he grimaces. Oh no.

“The, uh, the door sticks sometimes. Lemme get it for you,” he says, coming around to fiddle with the handle before the door pops open. You feel some relief, then, knowing that you didn’t just bust his car, and you climb in and he shuts it behind you. Then he’s getting in on his side, and the two of you head out to the restaurant he’d told you about for dinner.

It was a place that Hangman had recommended, Bradley told you, but he only decided to take that recommendation seriously when Phoenix, Payback, and Fanboy had all confirmed it was good. And you’d have to remember to thank Bradley’s friends the next time you see them, because they were right. It was a small place, not too far from the Hard Deck, with the best food you’d had in a while. The atmosphere was friendly and it was busy enough that you and Bradley had plenty of time to talk between your server’s check ups, but not too busy that you felt rushed or couldn’t get a table.

The two of you got through the basic first date talk pretty quickly; he’s a much better listener than the last few guys you’d gone out with, and actually asked you some questions when you were telling him about some work drama you’d been dealing with. You enjoy the way his big, beautiful brown eyes crinkle at the corners with crows feet when he smiles, and how he scrunches his nose when he laughs. He also talks with his hands, you’ve come to realize, and he nearly knocks his glass of water off the table no less than four times as he’s telling you a story about what had happened at work earlier today.

“Anyway, so the radio was totally shot, right? So I’m inverted above Coyote, Phoenix and Bob are freaking out, there’s no way to communicate and we still have half a training exercise to complete. Can you believe that?” Bradley has his hands in an awkward position, trying to give you a visual as to what things had looked like. You can tell by the way he talks that he absolutely loves what he does, and he loves being able to fly. And there are very few things more attractive than seeing a man get so excited to tell you all about how he managed to get his plane upside down and scare the shit out of his friends and co-workers when no one was able to talk to each other in the air.

Dinner is over all too quickly after that, though, but thankfully nothing gets spilled during the rest of Bradley’s animated descriptions of his completely serious job duties. After you’d left the restaurant, since it was still light out, Bradley suggested that the two of you take a walk together along the beach behind the Hard Deck. He swore up and down that watching the sunsets from there were phenomenal, and, not wanting the date to end just yet, you agreed to go with him. He drove you there, and the two of you left your shoes in the back of his truck while you walked along the sand, continuing your conversation from dinner.

Bradley was absolutely right about the sunset, too; it was gorgeous, seeing all the blues and pinks and oranges, and every colour in-between, painting the sky in front of you and the water softly splashing against the shore. The two of you stop walking and talking as the sun hits the horizon, the cool water gently lapping against your feet and washing the sand all around. You swear you feel the back of Bradley’s hand ghost against the back of yours as the two of you stand there, side by side.

There’s a soft breeze blowing, putting a little chill in the air, and you find yourself shuffling a little closer to Bradley. Warmth radiates off of him, and as you look at him out of the corner of your eye and see him bathed in the burnished glow of the setting sun and how it gleams in his eyes, you think all the warmth and light of that sun must have been soaked up into him. And the more time you spend here with him on the beach, the happier you are that you didn’t let the date end after dinner–and that you gave him your number in the first place.

Once the sun has fully dipped below the horizon, the two of you make your way back to Bradley’s truck as the night sky faded from dusky twilight to a deep blue. You do keep a few steps behind him, though, to admire the way he fills out his t-shirt and jeans from the back. He’d once again popped the passenger door open for you, and closed it for you before he made his way back over to the driver’s side. Then, once he’s situated in the driver’s seat, he’s peeling out of the parking lot and heading back to your place.

The windows are rolled down as Bradley’s truck speeds along the road, and the cool breeze from earlier is back and blowing through the cab of the truck. The drive passes by all too quickly, with you needing to give Bradley directions the closer you get, and before you know it he’s pulling into your driveway. He parks the truck and turns the engine off. A beat of silence passes between the two of you before you turn to him and smile.

“Thank you for tonight,” you tell him, and you catch a flash of his teeth as he smiles.

“I should be thanking you. I’m glad you let me take you out.” He’s so earnest, maybe just a bit too earnest, but you have a feeling that he’s not quite as slick as some of his friends had been at the bar when you’d met. Which wasn’t entirely a bad thing; as pretty as the green eyed blond who’d been chatting up your best friend had been, he seemed just a little too full of himself. Bradley was much more your type (though you’d probably wait to admit that, that’s more of a post-third date kind of thing, if you got a third date, that is. You hope you do).

Though you don’t really want to date to end, judging by the time glowing on the dashboard of the truck (which Bradley had insisted was only thirteen minutes behind and it had been since his father owned it, and was lovingly referred to as running on ‘Goose time’, which you hoped he’d explain in the future), it was getting pretty late and you weren’t sure if he had to work in the morning. If he did, then he probably should have been at home a while ago.

“I should probably let you get going.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and grab your bag, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you almost saw a pout cross Bradley’s face. But he nods, unbuckling his own seatbelt.

“At least let me walk you to your door,” he says, and before you can protest he’s popping open his door and you watch him jog around the front of his truck to your side. He fiddles with the door handle for a minute before he gets it open, and when he does he offers you his other hand to help you out of the Bronco. You take it, and once you’re clear he closes the truck door–and doesn’t let go of your hand as he walks all the way down the driveway, up your front steps, and stops in front of your door.

The two of you stand on the porch, his calloused hand still clasped around your own as the dim, yellow light shining above your door illuminates the space around you. A few moths are bobbing and weaving around said light, a few of them getting a bit too close and dropping down before flying back up again in an endless cycle.

“Is it alright if I kiss you goodnight?” he asks, voice a little huskier than it had been all night as he breaks the silence, and you feel cool relief flood through you when you nod because yes, absolutely, you definitely want this man to kiss you, and it feels good to know he wants to kiss you, too.

You hadn’t been quite sure what to expect, though; would he be eager? Pushy? Sloppy?

Thankfully he’s none of those things–sure, Bradley’s lips are more than a little chapped, but that’s not surprising given what he does for work. But they’re also warm, and the gentle pressure behind the kiss has you closing your eyes and leaning into him. His mustache tickles against your skin, brushing against it as his mouth works against yours.

When you pull back due to the rather unfortunate need that your body has for oxygen, you take a moment to scan his face in the dim porch light. He’s got scars on his cheek, chin, and neck, you realize, and they gleam almost silver as you take them in. There’s a tiny smattering of barely there freckles that dot his nose, and one of his deep brown curls is hanging loose and slightly over his forehead. You wonder what it would be like to reach up and brush it away, but decide that the first date maybe isn’t the right time for that. His eyes are crinkled at the corner, crow’s feet softening his deep brown eyes as he looks down at you.

“That was… wow,” he tells you, which is probably pretty close to what you’d have said, because he’s not wrong. “I mean, better than just wow, but this is probably where I should get going before I make a total fool of myself. Thanks again for tonight.” He squeezes your hand one more time before he’s turning and stepping back off your porch to head towards his truck. You dig your keys out of your bag and unlock your door.

“Get home safe,” you call after him, and he waves back at you over his shoulder with a loud laugh. You step inside after you watch him get into the driver’s side, and close and lock your door as you hear the Bronco speed off into the night.

And about half an hour later, while you’re laying in bed, your phone screen lights up with a notification from Bradley–he’s home safe, he just wanted to let you know so that you don’t worry about him, and he’d love to take you out again, if that’s something you want. You look over at the sunflowers on your dresser, yellow ribbon still tied around them, and you can’t help the smile on your face as you tell him a second date is more than alright with you.

[alienaiver]

For the ask thingie how about kanda + “you really are an idiot, huh” 😭

CLEO HI !!! im sorry i didnt realize this was ur main im so sLOW !!!! [insert clown emoji] but this was such a cute little sentence !!! i hope you enjoy it!! my favorite fact about kanda is that hes into gardening bcos it is THE CUTEST FACT EVER i thank hoshino every night before i go to sleep for that honestly !!! <333 it got a little out of ahnd so im putting some of it under a read more !! :') <3333 (also i do not know a lot about gardening so this might feel like a random set of plants but thats bcos theyre the only plants i know IJSUFHUSEFHSE)

The first Sunday in May is an important day in your household. It’s repotting season in Kanda’s small indoor garden. You help him as much as you can with great joy but must admit that you don’t really have the same green thumb as your husband does.

Not all plants are repotted today but he usually goes around and inspects the plants the two weeks up until today to determine which needs a new pot and which can stay in their current ones. It’s a fun experience for you, to see your oh-so-stoic husband so relaxed, talking to his plants as if they had life – which they do of course, but you seem to disagree on what kind.

In front of the worktable there’s seven plants situated. Next to the table there’s two bigger pots requiring new soil, he says. Next week you’re going to attend the flowers in the garden outside and it’s also the time where Kanda blossoms. This is your favorite season.

There’re two cacti in need of new pots and Kanda looks in the back cabinet after some in appropriate sizes for them, ranting about how his Monstera has grown so much in the last year that he might need to buy a new bamboo stick for it. “Didn’t we buy one a month ago?” you ask, situating the plants after which you know how to help with. You hear him sigh, “no that was the one for our tomatoes.” He sounds almost exasperated but after being married for so many years you detect the small smile – he’s happy to share any and all thoughts about these subjects.

“Come and help for a sec,” he says and you go to him. He’s looking at two decorated flowerpots – one with lotuses on it, the other with a simple and green pattern. “Which do you think fits the current corner over there?” he points to the corner filled with a good section of plants you’re not entirely sure of the names of – you know one is a Snake Plant, because he bought it recently. They’re all dark green in hues so you decide on the lotus one – to give it some color. He grunts out a thanks and kisses your cheek.

You’re situated by the table, currently replanting a Spider Plant – or so you’ve been told – meticulously. Kanda’s already on his third plant but with your tongue sticking out, you’re still carefully letting the soil off of the roots. Kanda’s given you pointers before but he’s learned it’s best to let you do it in your own tempo. Before he gets up to repot the bigger ones, his hand gently grabs your face to get your attention and turns it towards him, “you’re so concentrated you’re not even listening,” he muses with a smirk, “I wanted to ask for a kiss.” He clarifies before he leans in. You lean into him with a smile before he pulls away and bops your nose with his pointer, “I’ll be on the floor, if you’re so scatterbrained and suddenly can’t find me.”

You want to rebuke him but all you do is stick your tongue out at him before you get back to work. Your fingers are dirty with soil but the serotonin boost it gets you feels nice, reconnecting a bit with nature. You think this might be why Kanda enjoys it so thoroughly.

When you’re satisfied with the loose roots of the plant, you start to fill the fresh soil into the new pot halfway, making a hole in the middle so that you can gently sink down the plant. You then put soil on top of the newly situated plant and with a proud nod, you call to Kanda so that he can praise you. You hand it to him and he grunts out a positive hum, nodding approvingly, “not bad.”

With newly sprouted confidence you go to grab another handful of soil, a new pot, and the cactus that’s to your left. It’s the taller one with three … sprouts? You’re not sure what to call them – you’d classify them as three cacti but Kanda’s assured you that they’re not.

You’re not completely aware of your surroundings or your thoughts you because before you get to lift the cactus off of the ground and towards you, a prickling sensation and sharp pain erupts in your entire hand. You yelp out and drop the cactus immediately – even though it hangs on to you for a few seconds longer than you’d like.

Kanda’s up immediately at your sound of distress, his reflexes serving him well. You whine as you drag your arm towards you to inspect the damage but Kanda takes it before it reaches your face. He inspects it with a small chuckle.

“I’ll go get the tweezers.”

You’re whining at every needle he pulls out of your taut skin. The need to pull your hand back and close it to a fist is strong but his grip on your arm is stronger. He tuts at you, “you really are an idiot, huh?”

“Not fair! You distracted me with your handsome face!” you argue with your underlip jutted out in a pout. He chuckles, “my back was turned to you.”

“Does that make you any less handsome?” you counter with an air of annoyance. He takes it in stride by smiling and gently rubbing circles into your arm with his thumb, “just keep still, I only need a few more.”

Another groan leaves you and he sighs and stills, “I’ll give you a kiss as a reward if you hold still.”

Your back straightens and your face turns determined. He smirks at your sudden resolve but continues his work in silence. He’s not sure how to express his gratitude that you’re always willing to join him on this day – even if you do get hurt during it.

[deusexmachinawitch]

Day 3 of using those subliminals I keep mentioning.

SP talked to me to tell me I’m a really good artist so that’s why he trusts me with this task of his and that he wants to keep working with me with future projects after I politely told him my working policy without any other intentions. I just replied with a thumbs up emoji because this still doesn’t align with what I want but I’m grateful for the compliments (and the random money).

I know I can finish this task in just one day but I’m not going to do that. I might finish it soon but not send it to him so early so he doesn’t think I’m prioritizing him. This is also a tactic done in the workforce so people don’t take advantage of your skills. No SP or anything should be put on a pedestal for peanuts if I deserve high quality satay meals.

Two people also randomly paid me today saying it was money they owed me. I don’t recall them owing me anything but okay, that’s good.

My Mom told me that next month she’s going on a clothes shopping spree and if I want anything so I’ll choose a pair of wonderful outfits. She also said that she was wrong about the phone being 128GBs, it’s 256GBs and she’s sending it to me next Monday. If I recall well, my Mom was really sure that it was 128GBs so either my Mom was wrong (she’s not the best with tech so I wouldn’t be surprised) or it’s another glitch/shift.

I was brought sushi and smoothies for dinner.

I also got an email telling me that project I wanted to take is actually interested in me, so I’ll be contacted soon about it.

I think I’m going to combine SP subliminals from another sub maker with the mysterious sub maker to see if doing that type of combo will boost something.

Tomorrow is my full self care day, so I’ll be mostly listening to subliminals why I do nothing but relax.

This is really becoming some sort of weird series. I think I’ll do 21 days using the mysterious subs combined with methods I like (mostly to help me with mental diet) and see how far these subs can get in just 21 days.

[solhwellness]

Emojis and Mental Well-being: Unlocking the Power of Expression | Solh Wellness

Emojis are increasingly used in digital communication. They help us communicate our emotions, bring humour, and forge stronger bonds with our friends, family, and workplace. Did you know, though, that emojis might also be good for our mental health?

Emojis may be a useful tool for gauging mental wellness, according to study that was written up in the Journal of Radiotherapy in Practise. According to the study, people who used emojis to communicate their emotions were more likely to say they felt more positive about their mental health.

A study that was discovered and published in the journal Emotion suggests that using emojis can strengthen interpersonal bonds. According to the survey, respondents who frequently used emoticons in online communication claimed to feel more connected to their friends and family and less alone.

Then, how do emojis promote mental health? Here are some key observations:

Emojis can be used to convey a variety of emotions. Emojis can be used to convey any feeling, including happiness, sadness, hatred, and wrath. You might experience increased empathy and human connection as a result.

Using emojis can make communicating with people easier. If you're feeling lonely or alone, using emojis may help you connect with your friends and family. You can phone them or leave a remark on one of their social media posts using emojis. It's possible that you'll feel less lonely and more a part of the group.

Emojis can make communication more amusing. Using emojis is a great way to add comedy to your communications. If you're feeling uneasy or apprehensive, add a few emojis to lighten the atmosphere. As a result, you might feel better and experience less stress.

Emojis are a useful tool for improving mental health. Emojis can be used to express emotions, establish connections with people, and add humour to talks. We may be able to improve our mental health and have happier, better lives by doing this.

Emojis can also be utilised in the ways listed below to promote mental wellness:

Emojis can be used to start conversations about mental health. If you're experiencing mental health concerns, you can use emojis to start a dialogue with a friend, a family member, or a mental health expert. You could send a friend a text that says, "I'm not feeling well," along with a sad emoji. You can more easily express your emotions and obtain the attention you need as a result.

Emojis could be used to create a safe space for talking about mental health. It might offer a secure setting for talking about mental health. A heart or a thumbs-up emoji can be used to express understanding or attention. As a result, the conversation might become less awkward.

Emojis can be used to increase awareness of problems with mental health. It might raise awareness of mental health concerns in your neighbourhood, place of employment, and online. Use the hashtags #MentalHealthAwarenessDay or #WorldMentalHealthDay to share information on mental health. Flyers and posters for mental health can be created using emojis.

Conclusion

Emojis can be an effective tool for promoting mental wellness. Emoji use can help us boost mental health both within our own groups and across our wider population.

Solh Wellness is aware of the vital role emojis play in fostering mental wellness. We've introduced the Mood Meter tool so you may use a choice of emoticons to assess your mood throughout the day or month. This programme allows you to keep track of your feelings and obtain a detailed mood analysis at the end of the time period you choose.

[copperbadge]

Hiya Sam! Just an observation. I've been following you for about five years now, and noticed an uptick in self-deprecating language sprinkling your posts. I obviously have no real insight in the game, but thought you'd like to know. Thumbs up from us!

Huh! I hadn't noticed, I'll have to monitor that. Odd since I'm doing much better than I have in probably years, but on the other hand for the first half of this year I was doing much worse, so *shrug emoji* Perhaps part of it is I feel safer down-talking myself when I have more self-esteem.

I will say that because I am prominent in fandom, over forty, male, and tend to speak in a tone of authority whether I have any or not, I get a lot of people treating me like I definitively know things I do not know. Especially since I got the ADHD diagnosis and started talking about that, because if you've been in the ADHD tag (where my posts seem to get dumped even though I don't tag "adhd" directly) there are a lot of young'uns there looking for guidance from non-parents. I get a lot of either questions I'm not qualified to answer or comments assuming I know more than I do, and sometimes those assumptions are dangerous -- ie, "I am clumsy therefore I must have ADHD" on my postural sway post, "Maybe I can drink even though my doctor said not to" on my weed-and-Adderall post. Occasionally the only true way to shut it down is to remind people that I am not an expert, and sometimes that has to be pretty forcible. You guys have seen me get the same question phrased three different ways to see if I give a more committal answer, and have to escalate to remind people HEY I AM NOT A DOCTOR etc.

I don't actually think I'm a dumbass, for example. In fact the ADHD exam gave me a huge ego boost because of the whole "IQ in the Superior range" thing. But reminding overly trusting people that I, too, am amongst the ranks of Internet Idiots means they're less likely to base huge life decision on things I've said without reference to their lives or the context of their existence.

But also yeah I'll keep an eye on it.

[haus-seeblick]

Suptober Day 3: Rainbows

Title: We’ve Got Your Back, Jack

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1,660

Tags: Mild (brief) Angst, Dean Winchester and Castiel are parents, De-aged Jack Kline (he did it to himself), Jack Kline is twelve, Fingernail painting as therapy, Claire is an excellent big sister, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Canon Divergence from 15x18 (twelve years later), Jack has a guinea pig named Nougat

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Claire Novak/Kaia Nieves, Background Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy

On AO3 Here

When Jack is teased at school for wearing his favorite rainbow jacket, his family comes together to help build him back up.

“Sunshine, you gotta calm down.” He moves to stand behind Cas where he’s sitting at the kitchen table and squeezes his shoulders reassuringly. There’s hardly any give; Cas is a single ball of tension.

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

Dean sets a steaming mug of tea in front of Cas, who glares at it with such intensity that Dean’s surprised it doesn’t shatter on the spot.

“I can’t calm down,” Cas growls. “He was bullied. The sweetest boy in the world, and they made him feel small. How are you calm, Dean?”

Dean sighs and pulls up a chair. “He seemed fine, Cas. I mean, he is God. He was already talking about changes he wants to make once he comes back into power.”

Cas grips his mug and takes an abrupt, angry sip. “I wish he could make them now.”

“Me too, buddy. But he’s learning. Every shitty person he deals with, he learns something. That’s why he’s doing this whole human thing, remember?”

The kitchen’s quiet for a moment while Cas contemplates. He cups his hand over the tea, steam escaping between his fingers in lazy tendrils. “It’s just my instinct to shield him from cruelty.”

Dean nods. He scoots closer, sliding an arm around Cas’ warm, solid waist. “I know.”

Some of the rigidity in Cas’ posture softens and he leans into Dean’s side. Dean presses a kiss to his temple.

“What can we do?” Cas asks quietly. “For now. I want him to feel happy at school.”

Dean hums thoughtfully. “Not sure. The school already talked to the other kid's parents, so that part’s taken care of, and Jack said it was just the one boy. I think we just gotta be there for him. Remind him he’s awesome.”

“I just want to wear my rainbow coat.”

Dean and Cas turn around to see Jack standing in the doorway, rubbing his eye. He’s wearing the bee-patterned pajamas Cas got him for his twelfth birthday in the spring, and is cradling his guinea pig, Nougat, in one arm.

Cas immediately stands up and beckons Jack over. “You couldn’t sleep?”

Jack shakes his head, as earnest and deliberate as he does everything. He pads across the kitchen and hands Nougat to Dean before sitting down in Cas’ empty chair. It took Dean a while to get used to the guinea pig, to her sharp nails and shrill squeaks, but now he likes having her warm little body against his chest.

Cas flips the kettle back on to make Jack a cup of tea, too. “Did that boy’s teasing start with your coat?”

Jack plays with the strings on his pajama pants and nods. “I don’t understand. When he said those mean things and laughed, he felt—” Jack pauses, blinking thoughtfully at the ceiling. “He felt afraid, like he was cornered. Defensive.”

“His emotions must have been strong for you to sense them,” Cas says gently, pouring the steaming water into Jack’s favorite mug, a blue one with a big sun on the side. Dean slowly strokes a finger over Nougat’s soft brown head. His chest feels tight.

“Yes, they were. I feel bad that he’s scared,” Jack continues. “And I’m going to work on helping people like that when Amara gives me my powers again. But I also just want to wear my coat.”

He’s twelve, Dean thinks. He’s God, and he’s twelve.

“You’re gonna wear your coat, kiddo,” he says, bumping Jack’s foot with his own. “That other kid, it sucks that he’s hearing shitty stuff at home. And it’s not your fault that he took it out on you. Trust me. If you wanna go to school decked out in rainbows, we’ve got your back.”

Cas nods and crouches down next to Jack, handing him his mug. “Dean is right. Our priority is helping you be yourself and be happy during your time as a human.”

Jack shuffles his feet a little. He cups his hand over the mug just as Cas had done. “Um, in that case, can I ask something?”

“Yes, of course,” Cas says.

“Well, my friend Mallary likes painting her nails. They look so cool. But she said boys don’t usually do that.”

“And you’d like to,” Cas prompts. His eyes meet Dean’s for a moment.

Jack nods. “Rainbow.”

Dean stands up, cradling Nougat snug against his chest as the guinea pig emits a startled squeak. “Well, then, you’re gonna have rainbow nails. I know just who to call.”

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

Claire sweeps into the house the next morning — Sunday — in a whirlwind of hair and shopping bags. Even though they heard her coming all the way up the driveway, swearing and dropping things, it’s always a shock when she bursts through the door. Kaia follows quietly, with a fondly exasperated smile on her face. She rolls her eyes at Dean and he stifles a laugh.

Claire stomps into the living room and dumps her mountain of bags onto the couch. “Hi, old men. Where’s my brother?”

“Hello, Claire,” Cas says, lips quirking. “I see you’ve come quite prepared.” He’s leaning in the doorway to the living room, arms crossed, an old t-shirt of Dean’s stretched over his broad shoulders. From his perch on the couch, Dean lets his eyes roam appreciatively; Cas has been ageing ever since he returned from the Empty a human, and the years look good on him. He even has a bit of silver in his wild hair. Twelve years together, and Dean still can't believe his luck.

“Yeah, well, Dean calls me saying my baby bro needs a confidence boost, I’m gonna go all out.” Claire starts emptying the bags onto the coffee table. “I brought every color I could find.”

As if on cue, Jack appears in the doorway next to Cas. His hair is still rumpled from sleep but his eyes are shining, taking in the rows of nail polish that Claire is lining up on the table.

“Wow, is that all for me?” He practically bounces into the room and sits cross-legged on the floor, picking up a blue bottle.

Claire ruffles his hair, disheveling it even more, and sits down next to him. “Hell yeah. And for your dads, too.”

Dean blinks. “Uh— you want us to— yeah, that idea was for Jack, actually.”

This time it’s Kaia’s turn to stifle a laugh, and Dean shoots her a dirty look. Cas chuckles and pushes off the doorframe to join Dean on the couch. He takes Dean’s hand in his own and lifts it up, lightly stroking one finger at a time as he looks at the short, blunt nails. Dean may work hard at the garage, but he’s hygienic and doesn’t bring any grease home, under his nails or otherwise.

Now, he blushes a little as Cas brushes a kiss onto his knuckles. “Dean will look beautiful. Just like Jack.”

Jack whoops and shoots Dean a dazzling smile. Dean can’t really say no to that face.

It’s decided that Kaia will paint Jack’s nails rainbow, a different color on each nail (Jack insists that some should have polka dots, too), and that Claire will do Cas’ and Dean’s. Dean tries to ask for just black, like Baby, but gets shouted down by everyone in the room and grudgingly agrees to a dark green. When Claire is done wiping down his nails and applies the first brush of color to his thumb, he has to admit it looks nice.

Jack keeps exclaiming in delight every time Kaia starts on a new color, and nearly loses it when she reveals that she got some tiny glittery stars to sprinkle on the drying polish.

“It looks like a galaxy,” he breathes, eyes wide, moving his fingers gingerly in the light from the window. Dean glances at Cas, who’s getting his nails painted a holographic blue, and is surprised to see a bright sheen in Cas’ eyes as he watches Jack. He’s smiling softly. Dean reaches over (careful of his own drying nails) and lays a hand on his shoulder. Together they watch their kid — sort of God, sort of not — reclaim his happiness one sparkly fingernail at a time.

Once everyone’s clear coat polish is dry (Dean had no idea there were so many steps involved), they take a bunch of pictures to send to Sam and Eileen. Dean almost considers hiding his own hands, but Jack’s gazing at him so excitedly that he splays them on the table next to Cas’ without a second thought.

They do look cool. Sam even says so in his text, after a string of heart-eye emojis.

Claire and Kaia head out after lunch (Cas quietly packs up about half of the nail polish they brought, pressing it into Kaia’s hands to take back home with them). Jack spends the rest of the afternoon picking out a suitably colorful outfit to match his nails at school tomorrow.

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

“This was a wonderful idea, Dean. Thank you,” Cas says that evening as they’re back at the kitchen table, Cas nursing his usual mug of tea and Dean packing Jack’s lunches for the week. “He was so happy. I hope he’ll be okay tomorrow.”

Dean slides the last sandwich into the fridge and lays his hands back on Cas’ shoulders. They’re warm and pliant tonight. He digs his fingers in, leaning down to kiss Cas’ cheek.

“He’ll be okay. He knows we’ve got his back.” He’s quiet for a moment and runs a hand through Cas’ thick hair, following a silver strand with his shiny-green thumb. “That counts for a hell of a lot.”

Cas twists around, covering Dean’s hand still on his shoulder with his own and gazing up at him. “You are a good man, Dean Winchester. A good man and an excellent father.”

Dean sucks in a big breath. “All right, sunshine. That’s about all the feelings I can handle today.” He grins down at Cas, though, just to assure him he’s fine.

And he is.

[cheeriecherry]

Birds Of A Feather [4/7]

Hawks x Fem!Reader

Warnings: some swearing, a kiss

Part 4/7

By the end of the week, you’re walking into Hawks’ penthouse with nothing but a duffel bag of clothes. Most of your stuff had been moved to storage, but you’d told him you’d bring your own sheets, blankets, and pillows for the couch. He’d stared at you like you’d grown a second head.

He’d then gone on a tangent about how he had guest rooms, obviously, and how his sheets would be softer than yours. He’s probably not wrong, with his 1200 thread count egyptian cotton, but the way he says it ruffles you a bit. You don’t mention it, though. You don’t want to give him any kind of reason to kick you out.

“Hey chickadee, you gonna stand in the entrance all night, or are you gonna come in?”

You snap out of your stupor when Hawks calls to you, and continue lugging your things through the door.

The inside of the penthouse is beautiful; tastefully decorated (probably professionally), and it’s spacious rough that you could spread your wings out fully. The doorways are wider than average, likely catering to your boss’ specific needs. The entire place is gorgeous, immaculate even, and any person in their right mind would kill to live here.

You kind of detest it.

“I had some people come in this afternoon and set up the guest suite for you,” he says, kicking off his boots and flopping onto the couch. “They also brought some of your uniforms in from the agency, so you can change here. You won’t have to go in so early.”

“Thank you,” you tell him, and you mean it. Personal opinions aside, he’s let you into his home out of kindness. You’ll not soon disrespect that.

“Ah, you’re standing and staring again. Are you that impressed with the place?”

You snap back to attention for a second time, and hike your bag further up your shoulder. “I-it’s not that!” you try to explain, “I was just expecting something...different?”

Hawks sits up on the couch. “Whadya mean?”

“I dunno.” You shrug. “More lived in, I guess? Don’t get me wrong, it’s wonderful here, especially the balcony, but it’s also very...what’s the word…”

“Mature and charming?” he tries, but you shake your head.

He offers a few more suggestions, things like ‘perfect’ and ‘homey’ and ‘colourful’, each word hitting further and further from your mark.

Then it comes to you. “Monotone and sterile!” you nearly shout, your success momentarily quieting your desire to be polite. “It’s like it’s fresh out of a magazine, or a model home. Don’t take it the wrong way, Boss, I’m not hating on your tastes, but if I’m gonna be staying here indefinitely, I’m gonna have to add some personal touches.” You remember your manners. “If that’s okay…”

You worry that you may have offended him, with the way he’s looking at you, but a smile slowly spreads across his face, his eyes sparkling.

“Finally,” he sighs, “someone who speaks their damn mind.”

“Eh?”

“Do you know how many of the people I’ve invited here tell me ‘how beautiful’ it is?” He adjusts his wings and settles comfortably back into the couch. “All of them. Every single one. And look, I’m grateful that I’ve got this place, but it’s just a house. No sentimentality, no memories...just a space.”

“Well...it’s polite to not insult someone’s home when they invite you over…” you mumble, the severity of your outburst making your face heat up.

“Maybe,” he says. “Or maybe they’re all schmoozing and hoping to get on my good side.”

The bitterness in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you decide to leave it be. He should be free to be himself in his own home, and not have to put up any kind of front. You hoped he’d supply you the same courtesy, when you inevitably would wake up on the wrong side of the bed some mornings.

“Anyways,” he flips the TV on and tosses the remote to the side, “it’s late. You should probably unpack your stuff before you’re too tired.”

“Yeah…” you realize how wiped out you are as the weariness starts to settle in. “I’ve got tomorrow off though, so...if I wake up on time, I’ll bring you curry.”

You can hear him cheering as you walk down the hall to the guest room, and you smile. You’ll never understand his love for chicken, even though his enthusiasm boosted your confidence.

The room is spacious and airy, and has a beautiful view of the city. The bed itself is probably big enough to hold three people, and you’re silently grateful that your wings won’t be hanging on the floor while you sleep anymore. 

You set your bag down by the door, and flop face first onto the mattress. God, it was the most plush thing you’d ever had the pleasure to lay on.

“I’ll unpack tomorrow,” you mumble, sinking further into the sheets and, eventually, sleep.

In the distance, you hear Hawks snoring.

----

You wake up the next day to sunlight hitting your face. It’s bright, and annoying, and too warm, and your bed really wants you to keep sleeping but you don’t think you can.

You sit up.

You can feel that your hair is a disheveled mess, and your tongue feels gummy and sour.

“Blegh.”

You (regrettably) roll out of bed and make your way to the bathroom to fix your morning vibes, checking the time along the way. Ten is later than you would have liked to wake up, but you suppose you really needed the sleep. And you did, surprisingly, feel more rested than you had in months.

It’s ten thirty by the time you’re done in the washroom, overall energy more put together and presentable, and you waste no time heading for the kitchen.

The kitchen which is...painfully under-stocked. A couple of condiments and wilting vegetables in the fridge...some frozen meat in the freezer...a bag of rice under the sink, for some reason, and...a completely full spice rack, every bottle unopened.

You knew your boss didn’t spend a lot of time at home, but this was just sad. 

You make a mental note to go shopping later.

Thankfully he seems to have the necessary ingredients for chicken curry, which you’re happy about. It means you won’t have to brave the store just yet.

Bit by bit, you pull out what you need in order to cook, only sitting down when you have a moment to spare as the rice cooks.

‘Hey Boss, I’m making curry for lunch. Want me to bring you some?’

You send him a text. It’s still fairly early, and you know he has his meetings in the morning, so you doubt that he’ll get back to you before-

Your phone buzzes.

‘Chickadee, you sure know the way to my heart. I’ll leave my office window open.’

You send him a thumbs up emoji.

----

Once the food is finished, you pack it up into two containers, opting to leave the rest in the pot for now. You made lots, enough to get several meals out of it, just in case Hawks pulled his ‘too busy to cook’ excuse when trying to convince you to order take-out.

It doesn’t take long to fly to the agency, the skies much clearer than the roads. The city itself seems relatively calm, no sounds of explosions or screaming. There is a distant plume of dark smoke on the horizon, though…

But there were other heroes in the area. You wouldn’t be missed if you didn’t show up for one disaster...right?

But then you land in the window of your boss’ office, and your worry spikes. The room is empty, door closed, lights off, paperwork strewn about on the desk...like he’d run off in a hurry.

You pull your phone out and send him a text.

‘Lemme know if something came up. I brought lunch, but I can put it away for later. Stay safe!

-Chickadee’

He doesn’t reply, but that’s expected if he’s dealing with some kind of crisis. Maybe you should have headed to whatever disaster you’d seen earlier...if it was bad enough to call on your boss, it must be a pretty dire situation. Maybe he could use an extra pair of wings?

You sigh and take a seat beside the window, staring out at the city skyline. The black smoke across the way has turned to a dusty grey colour, a much less threatening hue, and one that bode well for any possible fires.

He’ll be fine, you decide, with other heroes undoubtedly on the scene. By the time you’d get there, whatever was happening would be dealt with.

You pull out your phone to scroll through the news while you eat.

Nothing urgent appears on the screen, nothing to incline that you were needed somewhere, nothing to say extra help was needed. Just day-old stories, gossip columns, the occasional media review. You do startle a little when a new article pops up that’s focused around your boss. You click on it, expecting to see some kind of haggard scene...but you only laugh.

“Hawks, most eligible bachelor in Japan, off the market?” You scroll further into the article to see what kind of nonsense the reporters have come up with this time.

What you don’t expect, is to find pictures of yourself littering the page. Pictures of you and Hawks together. On patrol, talking over lunch at a cafe he took you to one time, walking into his agency side by side, and -most recently- the two of you landing on his balcony.

You’re slightly panicked, and very, very flustered. Had he seen the column? God, he was probably used to it, though, being as popular as he was. All he had to do was look at someone and the media would start crying wolf, which in your opinion, was stupid.

Still, the more you read the article, the more you find it has some good points. You two did spend a lot of time together, more than he did with any of his other friends. But that’s all you are. Friends. Friends, and completely platonic roommates.

You weren’t sure why that made your heart sink so much.

So you copied the link to the article and sent it to him, typing a quick ‘lol’ afterwards. At the very least, he might get a laugh out of it.

----

You finish eating in record time, scarfing down a portion and a half of curry. It was lonely, sitting in Hawks’ office by yourself. You wondered if he ever felt like that when he was up here on his own. He was too busy for most things, too fast for his own good. Did that include friendships? He made time for you when he could, but you understood the busy and demanding life of a hero...other people might not.

You...understood.

The dull ache that you’ve felt in your chest for the past year returns, suddenly. The sadness and grief, the emptiness and all-encompassing tiredness, the big overhanging question of ‘what’s even the point?’. The point of being a hero, the point of suffering for the people who love you and hate you and who don’t even know you.

“Shit,” you sigh, your head and shoulders hanging low, wing dragging against the floor.

Hawks had brightened your life up so much these last few months. He’d brought the smile back to your face, the joy back to flying. You missed him when he was gone, worried for him when he was off on missions, fuck, you even cooked him lunch of your day off just so you could spend time together.

You were head over heels for him, and so totally screwed.

----

Hawks doesn’t return home until late that night. Far past your usual bedtime, but you’re far too distressed to sleep. If you hadn’t had your earlier revelation, you’d have chalked it up to ‘being worried’. But now?

Now that you knew you had feelings for him, all your thoughts were clouded. You were concerned because you liked him. You hung out with him because you liked him. Everything was because you liked him!

It was fucking with you a bit.

“What are you still doing up?” his voice sounds from the front entryway, startling you bad enough that you almost fall off the couch.

Your wide eyes snap to him, immediately taking him in. He’s worse for wear, that’s for sure. His uniform is singed in places, and you’re pretty sure the scuff on his neck is a burn. Most notably are his wings. Or lack thereof. 

Featherless red nubs is a more accurate description.

“You look like shit,” you say, keeping the air about you casual.

He makes his way over to you and finds a seat on the couch adjacent, wincing as he sits a little too quickly.

“Thanks, chickadee. You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

Your face heats up. “I-I just mean! Long day?”

He groans, letting his head fall back against the cushions. You’re vaguely aware that he’s started talking, but the only thing you can pay attention to is the narrow column of his exposed throat, and how badly you wanted to lean over and press your lips against it.

You snap out of your daze when he nudges you with his foot.

“I feel like I’m talking to a wall,” you quips, devoid of any malice.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “what were you saying?”

“I was saying that we should hang out now that I’ve got a few days off. Kick our feet up, instead of culminating in a stuffy office.”

You shake your head. “As much as I’d love to, I still have work. Remember? I was already off today, I can’t miss more days.”

He whines, looking at you with sad puppy eyes. “It’ll be boring here by myself. You make the day more fun.”

“Hawks, I can’t-”

“Keigo.”

You perk up. “Huh?”

He rearranges himself on the couch so he can look at you more comfortably. “My name is Takami Keigo. Call me Keigo when it’s just us, okay?”

You consider it. “Why not Takami? That’s polite here, right? To use the surname?”

He nods. “Unless you’re close with the person. Family, good friends, the like.”

Your wings puff up, fully betraying the fact that you’re pleased he considers you a ‘good friend’. It doesn’t go unnoticed, and a teasing grin spreads across Haw-Keigo’s face.

“See? You waaaaant to. Say it with me: Kei-”

“Keigo.”

You don’t miss the way his cheeks tinge pink.

“You got it. And now, since we’re on a first name basis, I’m asking you to take a few days off to hang out with me.”

You’re exasperated.

“C’mon chickadee.”

“No.”

“Pleeeeease?”

“No!”

“Y/N…”

“No, Keigo.”

“Alright then. Now, as your boss, I’m officially giving you three days off.”

“You can’t just do that!”

“I can!”

“Hawks!”

“Keigo.”

“Sorry. Keigo!”

His expression is cheeky as you go back and forth for a while, and he’s unrelenting even as you gently beat him with a couch pillow.

It eventually morphs into a small war, the two of you chasing each other around the apartment, wielding whatever cushions you can get your hands on. You eventually end up tripping over the coffee table, shouting as you smack your foot and fall into an ungraceful heap on your back. Keigo wastes no time pouncing on you and pinning your arms beside your head.

Your wings are splayed out on either side of you, and he’s careful not to kneel on them. Even with your foot throbbing the way it is, he knows you could easily get away if you tried. But you don’t struggle. Instead you lay there quietly, out of breath, eyes locked on his. He can feel the warmth creeping up his neck, and you can see the redness returning to his cheeks.

“I...saw the article you sent to me today,” he begins, voice low. “I’m sorry they brought you into it.”

“I don’t mind,” you admit, “I just worry it might be detrimental to you. Some of your fans will be pissed.”

“Seriously?” He sits up on your chest, releasing your wrists. “You’re not online much, are you. Most of my fans ship us.”

“The hell does that mean?”

He laughs, soft of melodious. “It means that they like the idea of us. As a couple.”

“And it doesn’t bother you?” you wonder.

“No? Why would it?”

You avert your gaze from him, your insecurities and doubts creeping in under the scrutiny of his golden eyes. “I...guess you could just...do better, is all.”

“Chickadee...Y/N, look at me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. You feel very exposed laid out on the carpet, and you wish you’d never said anything.

A warm hand cups your cheek. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let me see those pretty eyes.”

You’re so flustered you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your heart is beating rapidly against your ribcage, and you’re positive he can see your embarrassment when you finally do as he asks.

But he only smiles gently at you, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours.

“Listen to me, and listen well. You’re the best I can do. You bring out everything good in me, and make me forget the bad. You make me happy.”

“Keigo-”

He shushes you by bringing your lips together.

[halo-jpeg]

Hii! I'm so happy your ask box is open again! How about Billy loomis and stu macher with a s/o who pretty much saved (either or both) of their lives while all three of them went as ghostface to kill someone, sorry if this doesn't make sense lol (also yes this is the Billy and stu anon again and I think I'll start signing my asks with these ❤🤍🖤 emojis lol I hope your having a wonderful day!!!) :))))

I wrote this as a Oneshot because I was in a very oneshot-y mood. I hope that’s okay!

Billy & Stu who’s Fem Ghostface S/O Saved their Lives

The moon was high, the night silent. Tension hung in the air, promising terror soon to come as three shadows moved like the wind through the city streets. One, two, three, they moved in single file, their footsteps soundless, their paces quick- they had a job to do, and they would do it no matter what. The head of the line had his sights set on a home at the end of the street. The lights in the two-story house were all out save for one on the second floor, so slipping inside would be simple. 

“Ready?” Billy spoke to his accomplices who followed behind him, voice modified into a deeper, more sinister tone. 

“Always.” Stu responded, and turned his gaze to you, his girlfriend. “(Y/N)?” You nod your head. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Billy arrives at a high window, standing on the tips of his toes to reach it. Of course, it’s unlocked, windows this high always are. How convenient. Billy slides it up slowly, silently, and once it’s wide enough for someone slim and small to slip through, Billy plants his feet back on the ground and turns to his boyfriend and girlfriend. He cups his hands, webbing his fingers together, and braces his knees. He doesn’t have to say a thing as you step forwards, planting a hefty boot into the cradle he’s made. Without a sound, he boosts you upwards, and with practiced ease, you use the momentum and slide directly into the dark home, tucking into a perfect roll. You made no sound within the act of your entrance. Good. Now, you stand to your full height and push the window up the last of the way. Billy boosts up Stu, and you take his hand as he sets a boot on the window sill. He’s made it in silently as well. Lastly, Billy, the heaviest and heftiest of the three of you. He has the most difficulty staying silent, but it rarely proves to be a problem. You and Stu both extend your hands out the window, and Billy grabs them, leaping upwards and planting a boot on the brick wall below the window he was slinking through. He was given just enough traction to boost himself up and onto the window sill. Now, all three were inside, still undetected. 

Billy gave a small thumbs up, a congratulations, we’re doing good so far. Next up; locating the target, and eliminating any possible threats. The girl you were after, a popular woman who would make a wonderful impact in the news once she was dead, had a boyfriend and a few snooty girls who she regularily hung out with. Today, the house looked quiet, maybe even the boyfriend wasn’t here. It was potentially perfect. Now, you took the lead, since you were the quickest and quietest, not to mention he smallest. You had a knack for slipping into tiny spaces to hide if you had to. Through the darkness, the three of you crept onward, one step after the other. The bottom floor was entirely empty, as expected. The second floor, however, was not. Just as you were creeping up the stairs, the hallway light flickered on, and the three of you instinctively retreated backwards into the shadows of the first floor. The heavy footsteps of the woman you were hunting could be heard, but none belonging to a boyfriend. You glance over at Stu and Billy, pumping a fist victoriously. They both nod their heads, a way of showing silent laughter and agreement. From here on out, it would be a breeze. 

They had called this girl many times already. It was evident in the way she moved that she was skittish, afraid to be alone. She was right to be afraid. All was quiet upstairs, so you continued forwards, a step at a time. Up, up, up you went, peeking over the floor for movement and seeing none. You continued, scanning your surroundings as you went. Nothing. You held out a thumbs up, Billy and Stu hot on your tail, and then you hear movement, fast footsteps and the flick of a light. The girl was at the end of the hallway, her back to you, shutting the door to an office or bedroom or something else. You hardly have time to shove Stu gently backwards, a Run!! and duck into a side door, a closet. You can’t shut the closet door, that’s much too suspicious, but you can face the wall and hope that the darkness of your cloak blends with the contents inside with you. You also simply have to hope that Billy and Stu weren’t seen. 

“H-Hello?!” the woman calls. Shit. She had seen something, that’s for sure. She creeps slowly, oh so slowly, to the stairs. She walks right past you without a glance. She places a hand on the railing, staring down into the darkness. A slow hand moves to the light switch- flick. No sight of Billy or Stu. The woman begins to creep down the stairs, a few steps, and just as you’re about to leap from your hiding spot and send her fleeing right into your accomplices, she whips around and races to what you can only assume to be her bedroom. Again, you’re just about to leave your hiding place, but catch sight of a glint in her hands. A gun. Your blood runs ice cold, and you know that Billy and Stu will be standing in plain sight for when this woman comes downstairs, giving her the spook of her life- and giving them so shiny bullets to the chest, or neck, or head. The woman goes racing back for the stairs, slowing at the top and taking them slowly. She holds the gun up, ready to aim and fire. What are you going to do? You finally leave that closet, creeping down the stairs after her-

“Don’t you fucking move!” the woman screams, and you know it’s now or never. “What the hell are you doing in my house you freaks?” realization hits her, you know it. “H-Holy... Holy shit!” she knows now, she knows they’re the Ghostface killers, she knows now is her chance to bring down to serial murderers. You also know it’s now or never. 

“Guys, duck!” you scream, and send yourself flying. You sail through the air, colliding with the womans side just as she sends two bullets flying. You don’t know where they hit, and you pray they don’t hit home. The woman hits the floor with a scream in which you end with a blade in the throat. It’s not the extravagant kill you and your boyfriends had been going for, but it’s better than, well... two dead boyfriends. You don’t give her body a second glance as you leap to your feet and race over to Billy and Stu. The latter is cradled in Billy’s arm, shaking, mask removed. Blood stains the fabric of his shoulder, but his breathing is even and his eyes are bright. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, frantic, and Stu nods his head, taking your hand in his and squeezing it painfully. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Stu promises, wincing, “It hurts like a motherfucker but it won’t kill me.” a smile suddenly splits his face, chasing away the pained expression, “And I just got shot! That’ll leave an epic scar!” 

“Jesus Christ, Stu!”

[lonelypond]

Love Is For Losers

NicoMaki, Love Live, 1.7K, 1/2

Summary: Yazawa Nico and Nishikino Maki are both key players on the Otonokizaka University Tennis Team. But now Nico has decided to "improve" Maki's social media and tennis game.

Love Is For Losers

Not the most flattering picture of herself, racquet ready, waiting for the return of a serve, but Maki Nishikino really liked her look of concentration. So she hit “Post.”. And the hearts and reactions and fire emojis piled on. Wait, what was that comment, from @NicoNi? “With squinty eyes like that, how can you see the ball?”

WTF?!?!?!? Junior and top tennis singles player Nico Yazawa was notorious for living on social media. Since practice started in September, she’d been leading weekly social media best practice training sessions for the Otonokizaka University team that freshman Maki had proudly never attended. And now she was trolling Maki? Was that a social media best practice?

Maki never replied to a comment, but to let the smug Nico Ni have the last word would grate across every nerve Maki had.

To quickly type, “Who’s in the top 10 national standings again? Can you see that?” seemed almost an illicit thrill. To get an instant reply of eye emojis, plus a sweatdrop made Maki laugh out loud. Quickly scoping out the coffeeshop to check if she’d drawn any attention to herself, Maki clicked through to NicoNi’s home page, Nico’s last post was a bikini shot with an obscene amount of hearts and various emoji combinations in an endless comment scroll. Maki snorted, too obvious an attention grab. Maki would ignore it and stick to tennis, which she knew very well. Ah, there was a pic of Nico rushing the net, one of her favorite ways to use her sprint speed. Maki had an in.

“Spend less time looking at my pics and more time on your approach shots.”

Another instant reply. Another sweat drop. “Nico knows. But you’re so pretty. See you at media training ; )”

Did Nico think she was going to get Maki into one of her stupid sessions like that? Maki dropped her phone on the table, sipping her espresso with a frown.

###

Maki’s phone pinged explosively. A series of messages from her self proclaimed bestie and doubles partner, Hoshizora Rin.

R: hahaha Maki Ma you really need to be here

R: Nico’s going through your TWIG account as her “what not to do on social media” slideshow

R: it’s so funny, Maki

R: (*≧艸≦)(*≧艸≦)(*≧艸≦)

R: you missed out Check out Nico’s LIVE.

Maki stared at her phone. Nico’s Live, that happened when you went to someone’s TWIG profile and clicked on their pic, right? Maki did, grimacing as she clicked on Nico’s face. Nico was in front of a whiteboard, drawing pictures of tennis rackets, disgustingly cute tennis rackets. She leaned forward, checking her phone, then grinned like someone who’d just served a winning ace.

“And @Nishikinoshot has just joined the fans watching Nico on TWIG Live…”

Maki heard Rin yell “Hi Maki!!!” in the background as Nico continued, “One of the best ways to learn how to properly conduct and promote yourself on social media is to find an influencer you respect and build a relationship with them. @Nishikinoshot has chosen @NicoNi, the smartest move she…

“I have not.” Maki shouted at her phone and then felt silly when she realized there was no way for Nico to see or hear her, or was there? TWIG kept floating an “ask to join the Live” teaser, so Maki thumbed it. Nico paused, obviously her notifications were on, another one of those winning serve grins and suddenly Maki was sharing Nico’s screen.

“Jumping into the Live. Good initiative, Nishikino..”

“Maki.”

“So why’d you pick your TWIG handle?”

What kind of a question was that?

“Nishikino shot...you know...because of tennis...the Nishikino shot always scores.” Also worked with photography, a hobby Maki wanted more time for.

“Nishikino announces her prowess off and on the court.” Nico giggled, Maki glared.

“What are you saying? That’s not right.”

“Ah, so you admit it is confusing. Make a note of that, class, it’s always best to have a tag that doesn’t confuse people.” Staring right at Maki, ruby eyes twinkling, Nico made an elaborately surprised, amused face, raising a hand to cover her mouth. “We were reading it as Nishikino’s hot, ‘cause you are.”

Maki flushed. And fumbled with her phone to end the live, not even registering what other garbage Nico was saying. And then her phone pinged again.

R: Are you all right, Maki? Nico was just having a little fun.

M: I don’t want to talk about Nico.

R: Okay.

M: That was your fault.

R: Hey, I thought you’d want to know.

M; Yeah...but tomorrow, after practice, you’re on clean up.

R: Maaaaaki (⁎˃ᆺ˂)’

###

Grunting, Maki swung through at full velocity, then grimaced as yet another practice serve skipped out of bounds. She leaned over to pick up another couple of balls. Both buckets were empty. Tempted to throw her racket, instead she shook her head, tucked her racquet under her arm, grabbed a bucket and went to the other side of the court to pick up the balls.

“Hey, let me help you,” chirped an unfamiliar voice. Maki turned. Nico Yazawa had grabbed the other buckets and was hustling for the net. Nico was always hustling, all lean muscle and speed. Her sable hair, usually put up in twin tails, was loose, still wet from the shower. She’d changed from her usual practice uniform to casual pink and black striped biker shorts and an oversized pink t-shirt shirt that slid off her shoulder and read “Killer Cute.” “Coach ended practice an hour ago.”

Maki shrugged, starting with the balls as far away as possible from the spot Nico had chosen.

“You’re always out here.”

“I take tennis seriously.”

Nico hesitated, hands on her hips, watching Maki curiously over mirror sunglasses perched halfway down her nose, “Nico sees that. But you can get trapped in patterns if no one points them out.”

“I’m fine. I win.”

“Don’t you want to win better?”

“Win better? That’s not a thing.” Maki tapped her racquet against her leg, fidgety.

“Accuracy matters.” Nico picked up a tennis ball, tossed it into Maki’s bucket, and winked, “Crush your opponents with finesse, not raw power. Fewer wasted serves.”

Maki’s hasty rush of anger changed to curiosity. Nico led the team in aces, with amazing power for someone so short. “Coach hasn’t said anything.”

“Like you said, you get the job done. And Coach has other problems...like keeping Honoka from exhausting herself in the first few volleys.”

They both chuckled at how eager Honoka Kosaka was to chase down every ball, until she hit empty. As a joke, after their last practice, Rin had her girlfriend, Hanayo Koizumi, the team manager, post a photoshopped pic of a golden retriever playing next to Honoka’s double’s partner, Umi Sonoda. Honoka had laughed longer than anyone.

Nico was right, Maki realized. Coach had been spending a lot of time on the players with more basic problems. And their assistant spend most of the time on opponent research, editing video footage.

“Nico uses a platform stance, but Maki could get away with a pin-point stance. Watch my feet.” Nico grabbed a ball, tossing it up, swinging at it with a pretend racquet. Instead of her feet remaining the same distance apart, her back foot shifted closer to the front one and then she pushed off up into the serve. “You’ve already got natural explosive power, you don’t need a nitro boost.”

Maki considered, moving her feet through the change Nico suggested. It felt comfortable, offering more control. She nodded, then jumped back when Nico clapped her on the upper arm.

“You’re a quick learner. Hang on. Nico will hop over there and you can try it out. It’s more fun with an opponent.”

“I’ll win. You’ll be crushed.” Maki winked.

Nico laughed and it echoed. “Nico didn’t teach you everything Nico knows.”

###

“So you’re a local too.” Nico was scooping salad into Maki’s bowl. They’d decided to stop for dinner.

“Yeah. My family owns a medical center so I couldn’t just go off anywhere.”

Nico paused, eyebrow raised. “Why not?”

“I’ve been working there since…” Maki tried to remember her first job at the hospital, how old was she? She remembered sitting at her father’s desk, coloring in specially made anatomy chart pages in elementary school. Did that count as a job? “Forever.”

“Ah. Nico had to stick close for family too. Three sibs.” Nico flashed a smile and three fingers. “They’re the best, but they rely on Nico.”

“Your parents work a lot?” Maki understood that.

“Yeah, my mom does. My dad died when I was little.”

Maki paled, what did you say to that. “I’m sorry” came out as a mumble.

A sigh, weary, as Nico pushed Maki’s filled bowl in her direction, “Me too. But we survived. He taught me tennis. And…” Nico put on a sparkling smile, bounced her hands up to her temple, rock hands gesture, and her voice became brighter. “Nico Nico Ni.” Then she relaxed back to normal, “He said it could cheer up the whole world..”

Maki remembered something. “Nico Nico is the ideophone for smile.”

Nico leaned forward, “So the Nishikino isn’t just for show.”

Maki shook her head, “We have a hospital in Tokyo too. I’ve spent a lot of summers there.”

“Wow, a doc and a jet setter. So why tennis?”

“I liked it better than golf. My parents said piano didn’t count as a networking activity.”

“Piano? Classic stuff.” Nico created a melody on an air keyboard.

“Some. And jazz. I get to take a couple of music classes, at least this year.”

Nico wondered if Maki realized how robotic she sounded, and how laced through with sadness her mood was as she talked about her family.

“Hey, Nishikino…”

“Maki.”

“Maki. Play for Nico sometime. Nico loves singing. My dad always said I should go on American Idol.”

“Sorry.” Maki twisted a curl of hair, “I don’t play those kind of songs.”

Maki obviously just needed to know more about Nico, which was Nico’s favorite topic. “Nico is multifaceted. We can do Ella and Count Basie, if you want. With the time you save not practicing your serve.”

Nico winked, her multifaceted ruby eyes cheerful pulls as she hummed. Maki found herself intrigued. “I’ll think about it.”

“Nico will be your personal tennis coach to make sure you improve.”

“Not necessary.” Maki leaned back to signal the waiter. Time to start the main course.

A/N: Another AU Yeah August entry, college rivals was requested and the Olympics put me in a sports mood. Planning another chapter.

Still taking requests.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth

Warnings: noncon sex (oral, m&f, intercourse)

This is dark!Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader is a fic writer and her number one fan can’t get enough.

Note: This is probably the most meta shit I’ve written but for all the fic writers out there, this one if for you. Hope y’all get the good d you deserve but until then, here’s this!

Please let me know what you think in a reblog/reply! <3 please and thank you.

You let out a sigh of relief and hit ‘post’. It was almost pathetic but it was the best part of your day, or most days. Having something to share with others was nice. The fact that they enjoyed your work and your boredom-induced work made it worth the frustration. 

It wasn’t real writing. You knew that. Fanfiction was a genre to be laughed at. You didn’t admit it to anyone but there was a sense of pride to go along with the shame. 

That part of you was kept online. The darker parts; the lust, the angst, the fear. It all went hand in hand and no one would guess that the bookshop assistant was stevies-doll. It felt almost scandalous to have a virtual alter ego.

You closed your laptop and checked the time. More than enough to get ready for work. Plain blouse, grey pants, mary jane flats. You were the typical bookish girl with dreams that would never come true. 

The bus was late. Oh well. You’d still be there in time you’d just have to forego your usual espresso. Afternoons were draining and you often needed the boost to keep from nodding off in the last hour. You really weren’t sure why the shop stayed open so late; not many came out after five for books but traffic was relatively steady in the hipster village.

Nina met you with a frown. She preferred you at least ten minutes earlier. Tardiness had seen several other clerks fired and you had been the only to make it more than a year in the shop. Three in fact. This place was like a second home. A garden of ideas to plant the seeds of your mind.

When Nina left, you rearranged the desk. You moved aside her ledger and replaced it with your notebook, two pens to the right of it. In between the chime of the door and the rare customer queries you did most of your writing. When you reached a block you’d read, but today you felt particularly inspired.

The world was saved again. The news reports had shown footage of the daring rescue. As grim as the situation was, you couldn’t help but fantasize. The first avenger with his golden hair and sharp jawline was every woman’s Adonis. At least, you thought he was the very picture of perfection.

It wasn’t obsession. That was your mantra. You often argued with yourself. As much as you thought of the great Steve Rogers, it was only admiration. It wasn’t the possessive infatuation often found on social media. It was a hobby. An escape from the world. 

You bent over the notebook. The shop was empty. The dulcet tones of indie folk floated along the shelves. You set pen to paper and waited for the ring to draw you away from the world behind your eyes. 

You leaned on the counter and scribbled the first line in ink. That was always the hardest part. Then again, the beginning was always more exciting than the end.

‘The day the earth went dark, there was but one beacon left to shine…’

-

It was amusing at first. The thought of another person spending so much time writing about him. That someone would fabricate an entire universe in which he was entirely different. Somewhere out there was a woman who wore the pseudonym ‘stevies-doll’.

Steve knew he should have been perturbed by the fact. The idea of another so consumed by him that they would post almost every other day about him. He couldn’t remember how he stumbled on the small blog. A decent following but nothing close to viral. 

The first story he read was cute. It even made him feel warm. The second was very much the same. He clicked through to another, this one more serious. Grey and daunting. A few more and he stumbled upon one he found most interesting, the letters NSFW emblazoned across the top. He googled the acronym and clicked back to the tab. Excited almost.

When he finished, he was warm in another way. Hot, almost. The things he read, the idea of him doing them, was almost arousing. Of course, he had never done any of it. Had never been more than the perfect gentlemen. Sweet and doting. That was how love should be. But that wasn’t love, no, that story was sex. Pure, unadulterated fucking.

He forced himself away from the computer after that. He needed to sleep. He had intended to browse his email quickly but he often found himself in the oddest rabbit-holes. That was definitely the deepest. He shook his head and chuckled. It was funny.

The next morning he awoke and went about his usual routine. He was out the door by seven. Off to save the world. Or wait around for it to need saving. At Stark Tower, he listened to Tony with his eyes on his phone. It wasn’t anything important. Some recounting about how he had scared Pepper with a nano-spider. 

Steve gave a half-hearted chuckle and Tony went back to his screen. “Tough audience,” He muttered to Bruce who merely shook his head.

Steve leaned against a stool and squinted at his phone. He stared at the google search. Why had he typed it in? Somewhere in the tedium of Tony’s chatter, he had keyed in the name. He hit the first link and his phone loaded slowly. 

His own face stared back at him. The banner was a press photo he had taken over a year ago. His bright eyes were staunch beneath the mask as he stared off into the distance. She had posted again. His thumb hovered over ‘read more’. Did he dare? 

He looked up to make sure he was not being observed. The two scientists were too distracted to care about his online activity. He stood straight and cleared his throat. “I’m gonna hit the gym,” He lied. A grumble from both scientists as they squinted at the floating screens. “Right, have fun.” Steve said dryly as he left them to their work.

He stepped out in the hall and pressed his thumb to the screen. He bent his head over the phone as he walked blindly down the halls. Neither Tony or Bruce noticed through the window that he had gone entirely the wrong way. Steve didn’t either as his eyes flitted over the screen.

‘The day the earth went dark, there was but one beacon left to shine…’

-

You couldn’t believe how much your blog had grown in the last few months. You didn’t know if it betrayed your unexciting life or your one-track mind. Both, maybe. But it made your everyday responsibilities a little less tedious.

And the messages were even better than the hit count. Several had messaged to say they loved your work and went so far as to call you an inspiration. It was flattering but it was easy to remember who you were. No Stephen King or JK Rowling. You wrote silly one shots with limited development. 

Today your inbox had been steady. Every time you found yourself bored at work, you opened the app and you had another message. Most of them short or even just emojis but nice nonetheless. And there was one you were waiting to answer

So long and in depth you had to give it more than just a thanks. You opened it several times and reread it.

‘Your story is really interesting. I think the way your portray Steve is believable. In this type of writing you rarely find anything realistic but your writing feels genuine if not entirely accurate. I would say you capture the essence of Steve perfectly and his actions at least make sense.

I always enjoy your updates and even look forward to them...especially the NSFW ones. ;)’

It was one of the few users who didn't use the anonymous feature and also left a complete comment. It was refreshing and you had come to look forward to their commentary. They went by CapUSA. Another Steve fangirl who was surprisingly inactive outside your blog. Her page was almost a clone of your own. They liked every post, reblogged, and commented. What more could a writer ask for?

Original characters maybe and not just fantasies of someone who’d never know of her existence. You closed your laptop and sighed. It felt like time. You could feel the block at the back of your head. The little thrill you got was wearing off and it felt like a phase better left to fade with your emo days in high school and that month in university when you dyed your hair purple.

You readied for work. Back on days that week. Opening was always easier. It didn’t feel so drawn out. Nina would be in at one and you’d keep her company until four. It meant little time for writing. Maybe that was for the better. You needed to start planning. For the future. For something truly your own. A fantasy so detached from reality that it would make market and maybe even a dime.

That was your dream. You didn’t want to be the listless fangirl forever. Ugh, how you hated to even call yourself a fangirl. No post today, you resigned. Maybe none tomorrow. You’d have to work up the courage to announce your hiatus. Life was calling and for once a sliver of genuine inspiration. 

And the bookstore. It was Shakespeare’s birthday, which conveniently was also his death day. This meant two for one on all of his works. Nina also  hired actors to stand outside the shop and re-enact famous scene from the playwright’s repertoire. They wouldn’t arrive till noon but you had a lot of set-up to do. Enough to keep you from thinking of the disappointed messages that would fill your inbox.

-

Steve scrolled through the pale pink blog for the dozenth time that morning. It had been two weeks since stevies-doll posted. The longest two weeks of his life. He wasn’t sure when it had become a staple in his life. A ritual almost. He’d read her latest fic as he laid down and try to clear his head of blood and grime. Lose himself in the person she dreamed he was. The man he had come to envy. Fictional but all too real in his head.

But there was nothing. At first he re-read and read again. But that grew old. He knew almost every story by heart at this point. He could recite the intro line to most and he fell asleep as his imagination reconstructed the things he had never done. 

Her banner flashed across his sight when he woke, the image of his blue eyes staring beyond him. He’d come to think of her Steve as an altar ego. The beast buried deep inside of him. He was tired of being the nation’s golden child. Their unwavering moral beacon. He wanted to be him and she had helped him figure out who he truly was.

But she was gone. No green dot above her name in the chat window, her last post dated fourteen days ago, her blog like a time capsule. The ice that had preserved him for seventy years. Where was she?

Then a thought struck him. A devious one. He had been on enough missions to know his way around a computer. He considered himself quite savvy after living nearly a decade ahead of his time. It was simple enough. He tracked down many a drug pin this way and they were often concealed behind walls of encryption. He doubted she had more than a store-bought antivirus, if that.

He climbed out of bed and booted his computer. His leg shook impatiently and he tossed his phone just beneath the corner of the monitor. He rubbed his palms together as the home screen loaded and he clicked on the browser.

Her IP was simple enough to find. Right-click, inspect. When he found it, he felt his heart jump. This was a line. A very clear one. If he did this, there was no going back. He let go of the mouse and leaned his chin in his hands. He stared at her page, split by the window of code, and his jaw ticked.

He hit back and went to the messenger. He clicked on her name and his fingertips ran over the space bar. He didn’t know what to say. He’d send her little asks about her fics but he never messaged her directly. Would she respond?

‘Hey,’ He typed slowly, his fingers sped up with each key, ‘I’m a fan of your work. I think it’s excellent. I just wanted to check in and see if you were still writing for this blog.’

He hit enter and waited. He focused on the grey dot beside her name. If she saw this, it likely wouldn’t be until morning. He checked the time and sighed. It was late. He had an early briefing with Tony and he should try to sleep. 

He hovered the cursor over the x but the dot turned green and he paused. The little ‘...’ blipped in the bottom of the chat box and the ding of her reply was music to his ears.

‘Hey, sorry. I know I’ve been quiet lately. I’ve just been so busy with work. I’m a bit behind at the moment. Thank you though for following me. I always enjoy your comments :)’ He read it several times before he could reply. Before he could even think of the words to.

‘It’s okay. We all have responsibilities. Take your time.’ He wanted to tell her to hurry up but who knew? She might be someone important, like a lawyer or teacher. He could wait. As long as there was hope. 

‘Thanks. I appreciate that. Really.’ That response was quicker. Curt, almost.

‘I don’t want to overstep but are you okay?’ His cheeks were hot.

‘Ah, you know, life.’

He scratched his chin as he leaned back in his chair. Slowly he sat forward and typed. It took him three tries to get it right. Concerned but not pushy. ‘Anything you wanna talk about?’ He waited. The three dots appeared then faded. Several times before her answer blipped up.

‘I don’t wanna trouble you but I appreciate you asking. Nothing I won’t get over.’

‘Ok, no problem. Just know that if you need it, I could listen. It’s could to talk about stress.’ He laughed at himself. He should take his own advice. He had a horrible habit of letting things pile up until he burst at the seams.

‘Thanks again. I’ll ttyl. I gotta get some sleep. Have a good one.’

‘You, too,’ He replied a bit too quickly. ‘Talk to you then.’

-

You were ready to post again. It had been almost a month since your last fic and you had been reluctant to return. You couldn’t help checking in daily to see your notifications and scroll mindlessly through your own content. And your offline writing had come to a halt. You were stuck and you didn’t know how else to cope but fall back on what you knew.

Your new friend had helped too. CapUSA had quickly become a stalwart of your blog. She, or he, you still weren’t sure, spoke to you almost everyday. They encouraged you to try one more fic as you mulled over a certain prompt. Why not? It would be like a writing exercise. Maybe it would help you with your original writing. Take some of the pressure off.

And you didn’t just talk about writing. You talked about the bookstore and Nina’s incessant complaints. You talked about the stresses of your lives. Friends, or lack thereof. Cap seemed a popular person and recounted stories of the latest drama. A close knit group of friends who acted more like adversaries. It was amusing and made your forget that your life was rather empty.

You hit post and smiled. That familiar rush rolled over you and you snapped closed your laptop. You were already dressed and ready for work. You crammed in the quick editing session before the bus was due and now you’d have to run for it.

Back on afternoons. It was rainy and you were soaked by the time you got to the shop. The weather always helped traffic and you ducked behind the counter where Nina was tending to the line with Cara, a new addition. The curly-haired blonde reminded you of old Hollywood. Her high cheekbones and rose lips rivaled Monroe’s.

“Do you want me to start early?” You asked as you tucked your bag under the counter between them.

“You better. I’m gone in ten and Cara’s only on til three.” Nina muttered. “We got a new shipment. Boxes are at the end of the aisles. We’ve not had a chance to touch ‘em.”

“Okay, I’ll get right on it,” You pin your name tag on and stepped back around the counter. She was in one of her moods and all the better that you avoid her until she left. You went to the end of the history aisle and opened the box against the wall.

‘You working?’ The vibration drew your attention from re-arranging the non-fiction section. The message floated in a bubble on your lock screen. You smiled. This faceless stranger felt like more. Of course, virtual friendships were often fleeting.

You glanced down the aisle, both Nina and Cara were squinting at the computer as a customer waited patiently for them to figure out their conundrum. You swiped away the lock and typed swiftly with your phone hidden behind your leg. 

‘Closing. Here all night.’

‘Oh :( you got company at least?’

‘For a couple more hours. But no shortage of work. :/’

‘Damn. Should I leave you alone?’

‘Up to you. My responses might be sporadic. Boss isn’t very pleasant today.’

‘Cool. I just read your new fic.’ 

‘Yeah? Sorry I haven’t checked my notifications just yet.’

‘No problem. I left a comment is all.’

‘What are you up to?’

‘Taking a break from driving. I should actually get back to it. It’s a long trip.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘To see a friend.’

‘Ah, ok. Well, drive safe.’

‘I will ;) See ya later.’

‘ttyl :)’

-

‘Nina’s Nook’. Steve read the crooked moniker several times over. He couldn’t believe he was actually there. That she was inside. He made good time on the road. An eight hour trip in six. Of course, he hadn’t exactly abided the speed limit. His impatience had turned to recklessness. So unlike him.

The sky was dim. The summer nights came later and later. She’d be done in an hour. The streets were dying down and the door hadn’t chimed in almost as long. He felt nervous all of a sudden. He tried to shrug of his anxiety and took a breath. 

She wouldn’t know it was him. Well, she might recognize him but she wouldn’t know he was CapUSA. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction. Steve Rogers in her bookshop. In this town. It would be a story she would recount for the rest of her life. An encounter she would never forget. 

Oh, he’d make sure she remembered it.

He crossed the street. A single car passed as he stepped up on the curb. It was much quieter than New York. No honking, no shouts, no hissing sewers. He liked it. It was quaint. He stood before the door and peeked through the glass. There was no one behind the desk. But the sign read open and the lights shone in welcome.

He pushed down the handle and slowly opened the door. The bell announced his entrance and a small voice called from the corner of the shop. “One moment, please.” He heard the shuffle of books and light footsteps. She emerged from the far shelves and his lips parted at the sight of her.

He had seen her before. Her few photos on Facebook and Instagram. He had found those shortly after he ferreted out her IP. He couldn’t see much but her privacy settings allowed him a glimpse into her real life. Her smile was nicer than in her pictures. 

“Sorry, I was--” She stopped short as she saw him. She blinked. He closed his mouth as hers fell open. Her voice was higher when she spoke next. “I was just sorting some stuff out. I--How can I help you?”

“Um, a friend recommended a book to me and I was passing by, I thought maybe by chance… you might have it.” He kept his voice even. The same one he used for his press conferences.

“Do you have a title?” She asked. He could see her fingers tremble. The guilt as her eyes rounded. She was thinking of all the things she had wrote about him. He was thinking of those too.

“Jeez, you know, I’ve totally forgotten but the author was, uh…” He pretended to think and his eyes drifted down her body. Her flowered blouse was boxy but her pants hugged the curves of her hips and legs. She clasped her hands together and the gesture pushed her chest together between her arms. “Margaret Archer--er, Atwood.”

“Hmm, she’s done a lot. Do you know what it’s about?” She pulled her hands apart and wiped her palms on her dark pants. His eyes followed the movement. He wanted his hands there. Wanted to feel her thighs against him.

“Something about an apocalypse...um, a character named...Snow--Snow something.” He acted like he coudn’t remember. Couldn’t recall that it was stevies-doll who had recommended the very book. 

“Oh, Oryx and Crake, I think it is. It’s an interesting one.” She smiled, proud to have figured out the riddle. “If you will, it should be with our most popular books.”

She hesitated as she passed him. He followed her as she went to the shelf just beside the counter. She hovered her finger before the titles as she read them. She bent as she got lower. He admired her ass as she did. He tucked his hands in his pocket before he could reach out.

“Yeah, I think it’s in sci-fi.” She stood and peeked over her shoulder. “It’s just over here.” She led him down the narrow aisle to the end. “Starts just here so Atwood…” She scanned the shelf, “Here.” She pulled out the book and held it out to him. “We have it in hardcover too.”

He took it and felt the raised letters on the cover. “Thanks.” He didn’t even acknowledge the book in his hand. The aisle was so tight she was trapped between him and the wall. She gave a sheepish smile and he turned to press his back to the shelf. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

She nodded and squeezed past him. Her chest brushed against his torso and she pretended not to notice. Once past him, she cleared her throat. “If you need any help, I’ll be up front.” She turned before he could respond and her watched her go. He never would’ve guessed the mousy shop assistant would have such a lurid imagination.

-

You were in disbelief. It couldn’t be. Steve Rogers in your book shop? No, you were dreaming. Or was it a nightmare? Oh god, why had you written all that stuff? You needed to delete. Now. You could hear him. The floor creaked as he moved slowly down the aisle. You hoped he would’ve taken the book and gone. The longer he stayed, the worse you felt. Your cheeks were on fire.

Your phone vibrated. You swiped the screen and found a new message from CapUSA. You sighed and rubbed your eyes. You should just pretend you didn’t see it. You unlocked the phone and read the message.

‘Hey, how’s work?’

‘It’s fine.’ You answered. What could you say? Who would believe that Steve Rogers had walked in your door?

‘I just was thinking about your last fic.’

‘Oh yeah?’ You peeked over at the far aisle. The floor no longer whined with his weight.

‘Yeah, I’d love to re-enact the last scene.’

‘Sorry?’ You sent the message and it went unanswered. ‘I don’t get it. What do you mean?’

‘The one with the girl on her knees. Begging to be fucked.’

‘Okay? I still don’t understand.’ Your heart jumped. This was really weird.

‘Or maybe and I could fuck you on that counter you’re standing behind.’

You hit close and locked the phone. You dropped it and looked around the shop. You rushed out from behind the counter and glanced out the window. You turned the latch and the floorboards groaned. You turned and pressed yourself to the door. You forgot he was there. 

How could you forget something like that?

“Sorry, uh, we’re closing up,” You felt around for the lock, “I was just--”

“That’s okay. I think I’m just about done.” He slapped the book against his palm and placed it on the corner of the counter. He set his phone on top of it with a flourish. “Why don’t you flip the sign and we can get started.”

“What are you--”

“Do you prefer I call you by your real name or stevies-doll?” He leaned against the counter and smirked. “Or I can just call you doll. I know you like that.”

“No,” You exhaled shakily, “Y-you can’t be…”

“You’re not happy to see me?” He asked. He didn’t sound like the hero you saw on the news. Barely looked like him now. His pupils dilated to darken his blue eyes and the shadows of the shop cast his face in sinister tones. “You can call me Stevie if you like.”

“I...What I wrote, it was just...” You spluttered. “I’m s-sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.” He pushed himself away from the counter. “I’m not mad. Intrigued really.”

He stepped closer and your ears pounded as the adrenaline coursed through your veins. You turned and fumbled with the lock. The door opened an inch before his hand slammed it shut again. He easily flipped the lock back into place and spun the sign with a flick of his thumb. 

“You can close early and we can have some fun...maybe inspire a new fic.” His arm was around your waist and you grabbed onto his thick wrist.

“They’re just stories.” You kicked as he pulled you away from the door. He tugged the blind down over the window. “Stupid fantasies.”

“Well, consider this a dream come true, doll,” He spun and let you go. You collided with the desk and gasped as the air was knocked from your lungs. “I think you remember this scene.”

“What do you want?” You clung to the desk as you turned to him. 

“You know, I’m everything people think I am. Straight-laced, valiant, boring.” He planted his feet and stared you down. “Or was...until I found your blog.” His tongue ran across his bottom lip. “It gets lonely on the road. At first, your blog was like a secret companion. It gave me something to look forward to but then it made me think. So many things I never even knew I was missing out on.”

“Please, I don’t know what you want from me,” Your voice cracked. Your fear surged and left you shaking against the counter.

“I want…” He tilted his head and his eyes flashed, “You.” He paused and pushed his shoulders back. “On your knees.” Your eyes rounded, “Oh yes,” He raised a finger, “Naked.”

You stared at him. You were frozen in place. The counter your only support from melting into a puddle. His nostrils flared as he exhaled; long and drawn out. 

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” He snarled and his hand balled into a fist.

You gulped and held yourself with one hand against the counter as you bent to unlace your oxfords. You kicked them off with your socks and mustered your strength. You stood on your own and unbuttoned your shirt. You kept your eyes on the aged carpet stretched across the hardwood.

You dropped the blouse onto your shoes and unzipped your fly. The wool trousers slid halfway down without help and you untangled your legs from them. You added them to the heap and stood straight.

“Look at me,” Steve ordered. Your eyes snapped over to him. “Good.” You reached back and he raised a hand. “Stop...I wanna do it.”

He waved you forward and slowly you stepped away from the counter. He bared his palm in a gesture for you to halt and you hung your head. “Eyes up.” He corrected as he came closer. He walked around you and stopped just behind you.

His thick fingers touched the band of your bra and ran along it until they met at the hooks. He carefully unclasped it and the cups fell loose. He tickled your arms as he pushed the straps down them. He took it and flung it away from him. His hands came up to cup your tits and he pushed himself flush to your back.

“You always wrote so vividly of me but...I never knew how beautiful you truly were...how good you feel.” He squeezed and slowly lowered his hands. He dragged them to the side of your panties and slipped his fingers beneath the elastic. He bent as he guided the panties down your legs. “God, that ass.”

You shivered and his hands cradled your ass. He ran his rough palms along your cheeks and up your back. They settled on your shoulders and he pushed down firmly. “On your knees.”

He stepped back and you unsteadily got to your knees. He walked another circle around you. You could hear his dusky breaths. Glimpsed how his hand ran over the front of his jeans. 

“Now ask, like a good girl,” He stopped before you and stared down with a smirk. “Go on, doll, I know you want it.”

You closed your eyes and swallowed. You grit your teeth and gather what was left of your wits. A story. That’s all this was. The letters could be backspaced and no one would know better of it. 

“Please,” You recalled the last scene you had posted. The tingle which had flowed through you as you hit the button. What had she said? You opened your eyes. “Please, I want to...I want to make you happy.” You shuddered as the words whisked from you. “Can I?”

“Can you...what?” He taunted.

“Can I suck your dick?” It was barely a whisper. 

“Oh, well, since you asked so nicely,” His hands were on his belt as he spoke. “But I have a different scene in mind for tonight. A new one.” He unbuckled his belt and cracked his neck. “I want you on the counter. On your back.”

You made to stand and his hand went to your head. He held you down. 

“Crawl.”

You weakly dropped forward and turned. You crawled on hands and knees as he followed, stopping just in front of the desk as you followed his pointed finger to the other side. You stood and lifted yourself onto the counter and laid on your back. He guided your head over the side as he pulled you close and his hands found your tits again. He tweaked your hard nipples and you bit your lip.

He rescinded his hands and finished unzipping his pants. You tried not to watch as he pushed his pants down, his briefs too. The blur focused and you gaped at the size of him. He gripped himself and you snapped your mouth shut. He grabbed your chin and squeezed.

“Now, now, don’t act like this isn’t what you wanted,” He pressed his cock to your mouth and you were forced to open as his fingers threatened to crush your jaw.

He slid inside and your gasp was stifled as he met the back of your throat. He forced himself further and you threw your arms out. A clatter of books and papers as you swept them off the counter. He lingered at his limit and wiggled his hips. You arched your back as you choked and he grabbed your tit, kneading it as he slowly pulled out.

He pushed back in just as you gulped down air and you writhed atop the desk. He thrust in and out of your mouth. You gagged and groaned. The noises only fueled his fervour and he sunk in over and over until your head pulsed. The spit smeared around your lips and his balls.

He pulled back and slammed back in suddenly. His motion slowed as he came. He grunted, his breaths stuttered by the staggered rock of his pelvis. You clawed at the counter top and kicked until you could breathe again.

He slipped his cock from between your lips and his cum leaked from your mouth. You sat up and coughed. His hands were on your shoulders again. His fingers danced along your throat as if to ease your struggles.

“Come on, that’s just the first act,” He drew away and you glanced over your shoulder. “Turn around.” 

You turned on the desk and he pulled your legs over the edge. He pushed your knees apart and stepped back to admire the view. You dug your nails into the lip of the counter to keep yourself from closing your legs.

“I know you’ve been dying to see this,” He grinned and pulled his shirt over his head. 

His cock hung out of his pants. It twitched as he tossed his shirt at you. You caught it. It smelled like him. He shoved his pants down without pause and he hardened again. You dropped his shirt and looked away guiltily. 

Had you not written this scene a dozen times over?

He was completely naked when you looked again. He came close, his hands on your knees as he knelt before you. You tried to pull your legs together but he held them apart. He shook his head and tutted. 

“Just sit back and enjoy,” He licked his lips. “Trust me, it’s better than you could ever imagine.”

Your shock took over completely. You watched as he bowed his head and you felt his hot breath on your thighs. When his tongue met your pussy you gasped. He delved between your folds and swirled around your clit. Your nails went deeper into the wood and your thighs shook. It felt good. It shouldn’t, though.

He buried his face deeper and you watched his golden locks from above. He reached over blindly, his large hand found yours, and he guided it to the back of his head. He held it there a moment before letting go. You clung to him as he hands glided up your thighs and he framed your vee with thumb and index.

You arched your back and moaned. It was your declaration of surrender. You couldn’t resist it any longer. The heat stirred inside of you, the flames licking at your thighs and back. You urged Steve closer though he couldn’t possibly go any deeper. 

His hands slipped down to the outside of your thighs. Your legs closed around his head and held him there. He tipped you slightly and you curled around him as he continued to lap. Your breaths mixed with throaty hums and you fell back. 

You had one hand still on his head and the other in your hair as you cried out in a mighty climax. He didn’t stop until you were shaking across the counter. When at last his mouth left you, you shivered. A sudden coolness washed over your body. He stood and you looked at him through the haze.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you to your feet. You wavered and he spun you quickly. You caught yourself on the desk and he slapped your ass. “That’s it,” He purred. “You’re getting it now.”

He nudged your shoulder until you were bent entirely over the counter, your toes barely met the floor. He rubbed your ass and pulled your cheeks apart. His cock poked you as his hand slipped lower and he tickled just below your ass. You squirmed and he chuckled.

He felt around and his cock slipped lower as he bent his knees. He dragged his tip along your folds before prodding at your entrance. He shoved his hand between your legs and forced them apart. 

He pushed inside and slowly stretched you around him. Your head shot up at the strain. A mix of pain and pleasure as he got deeper and deeper.

You whined as he bottomed out and his hips bucked almost instinctively. He hit your cervix and you cried out. He eased out and pushed back in. He repeated this again and again, his motion careful. Deliberate. He brought his pelvis flush to your ass and groaned.

“Fuck,” He slapped your ass again. 

He drew back and slammed into you all at once. All restraint was lost and he thrust mercilessly. His pace was wild. You reached out to grab at the edge of the counter, your hips hitting the other painfully. The spark had caught and you felt the flame about to burst. 

Your orgasm was surprising. More agony than pleasure. You whimpered and pushed your head into the counter as you heaved. You could barely breath as Steve never wavered. He fucked until you until your walls ached. Until they turned numb and you were nothing but a mewling fool before him.

He bent over your, his muscled torso against your sweaty back. He rutted atop you frantically. His hips jerked as his grunts deepened. His breath caught and he swore. He lifted himself off you and you felt the warmth spill down your ass and thigh. 

You laid breathless as he panted behind you. He rubbed his cum into your skin with two fingers and you shook. You tried to push yourself up from the desk. He caught your hip and shoved you back down.

“Oh, we’re not even close to the finale,” He pinched your ass and you squeaked. “Not to mention the epilogue.”

-

tags to be added in reblog

[gallickingun]

pixxiesdust x kirishima || gallickingun matchups

@pixxiesdust​ : MOE THIS IS SO AMAZING!!!! Congratulations again!!! I’m so happy for you! Your writing is wonderful and you truly deserve every single follower and so many more. Before I forget, I’m gonna choose the 🌸 emoji for the matchups ^u^ Could I please get a matchup for bnha? I go by Zebra, she/her, and I’d like to be paired up with a male partner c: I love to read and write, make edits, and play the flute! I swim and enjoy eating bubble tea, ramen, and sushi. I love pastel colors, and honestly all shades of blue. alskdjf I’ve never been on a date before •//• but I think the aquarium would be fun, to get to see all the sea animals and stuff! A little about my appearance: I have dark brown hair, but when I go out in the sun, you can see streaks of red in it. My eyes are dark brown as well. I’m 5’2” (a shortie, I know haha). As for my personality, I think I’m generally pretty friendly and can get along well with others! I’m probably an ambivert that leans more toward being an extrovert. I always want to do things well and can have a bit of a competitive streak (though I try not to be mean about it.) And I think that’s it! al;ksdjf oh my gosh I think that’s a lot. Thank you so much for being willing to do these done (and feel free to do mine at the end if you’re getting a lot, I don’t mind waiting!) Love you lots, Moe!

Zeb, you have my whole entire heart! Thank you so much for participating, and thank you so very much for being a wonderful friend and helping me out with bookclub so much! And just in general being a kind, caring, encouraging person that anyone can rely one! I hope you like this 💕

― I think you and Kirishima both have a wonderful, boisterous energy that could be very complimentary! You would enjoy having a good time together, whether it’s staying in and watching tv, or heading out and doing a stroll through town.  ― Kirishima would be naturally drawn to your kind nature, and it would be easy for you two to go from friends to lovers, as naturally as breathing. Kiri needs someone who he can trust as his lifelong partner, and who better than someone he’s been able to be himself with for so long?! ― You are encouraging, and sometimes Kirishima needs that boost of confidence and reassurance. You’re always there to remind him that he’s a wonderful hero, and an amazing partner.

❁ Kirishima would love to encourage all of your interests! Even after a long day of hero duties, he’d always ask you what you’d done with your day - had you learned a new song? Had you done some digital design? Was there a new idea for a book flitting around in your head? No matter how many new things you try, Kirishima is always there to support you in whatever capacity he can. 

❁ He loves taking you on spontaneous dates. Once you’re both free for a weekend, he’ll pick you up without telling you where he’s taking you - all he’ll give you is a dress code. Warm, cold, jacket or no jacket, etc. He manages to get you tickets to the zoo, the aquarium, some sports game that you end up eating more than paying attention, and even a musical or a concert. Kirishima loves seeing the way your eyes light up when you get to your destination, and he loves the way you hug him around the neck and hold his hand so tightly for the rest of the night. 

❁ Piggy. Back. Rides. Kiri adores it when you get a little sleepy or a little agitated, because it means he can lean down and scoop you up into his arms, or nudge you onto his back. He’s so strong, and he loves it when you depend on him. It makes him feel very special, and his pride swells when you latch onto him and rest your chin on his shoulder, and his heart rolls around violently in his chest when you press a kiss to his cheek or the crown of his head or his shoulder. Kirishima especially finds it adorable when you fall asleep still clung to him like a koala bear, and he tries very hard not to jostle you too much when he finally gets you home and in bed.

❁ The two of you love to have little competitions going. Nothing serious, because you don’t want to strain your relationship, but this is something that starts out when you’re friends. Who can get to class first, who can make the best sandwich, who can win the most card games, etc. You both love the way it riles you up, getting your adrenaline going, but you can still laugh when it’s all over. The loser always has to buy dinner, but the winner buys dessert. 

❁ Because of his hero patrol duties, Kirishima knows the best hole-in-the-wall eateries. Ramen, dumplings, noodles, sushi - you name it, he knows it. Fatgum teaches him the most cost effective places, and Kirishima makes sure to take you to a new place each month. You have your favorites - the ramen shack just outside of town, the sushi joint beside the bus station - but you’re not afraid to jump out of your comfort zone. And besides, even if you hate the food, Kirishima will eat your plate clean so you don’t have to feel bad. 

You push yourself further up his back, pointing up toward the sky where there’s a monkey starting to swing around on the vines near the top of the enclosure, “Ei, look!”

Kirishima is careful not to jostle you too much, his arms wrapped firmly around your thighs, the edges of his thumbs brushing against the inner parts of your legs in the most tender way, it makes your heart melt within your chest. He chuckles, leaning into your touch as you brush your knuckles along his jawline, “I see it, babe. Pretty cool, huh? Do you want to go on the safari still?”

“Duh!” You’re a giggling mess in his ear, tucking your face into his neck as he starts the trek towards the safari bus line. With the smallest angling of your face, you’re able to kiss him on the cheek, “Thank you for bringing me here,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear, “I know you’re trying to cheer me up.”

“Is it working?” his lips are curled into a smirk turned smile, ruby red irises glinting in the afternoon sunlight. You kiss the corner of his mouth, the fullness of his lips barely out of reach from where you’re latched onto his back. “Of course it is, hero. Thank you.”

Kirishima readjusts you against his hips, securing his hold as he passes through the crowd, “Anything for my girl, yeah? I know this week has been kind of tough on you, and I just wanted us to get away for a day. I hope between the slurpee, the animals, and the safari, you feel at least a little bit better.”

You mock contemplation in your features, tapping your chin with your index finger, raising your brows as you look to the right of him so you don’t break your smooth expression by seeing the humor in his gaze, “I dunno. I think I might need an ice cream cone, and then we’ll see how I’m feeling.”

“Yeah?” He shakes his head, the gruff timbre of his laughter shuddering against your body, making your heart flip, “I think that can be arranged.”

Matchups Original Post | Ko-Fi | Patreon | Commissions | AO3 | Writing Tag

Please check HERE to see if I’ve done your matchup already. Remember, I will also post your matchup with the tag: “#emoji-matchup”, using your emoji in place of the word, so if you can remember your emoji, you can search my blog for that tag to see if I have completed it already!

[nejiraez]

bakugou katsuki | late night drives

well fuqqqq; also this one shot is gender neutral friendly~

The constant hum and vibrating of his phone were what pulled Bakugou away from his resting state. His eyes immediately snapped open at its bothersome sound.

He must've forgotten to put it on "Do Not Disturb" before he went to sleep earlier that evening.

It took a moment for his scarlet eyes to realize what in the hell was going on around him after being rudely awakened. The moon's evening glow peaked through the tiny slits of his curtains, indicating that it was still late at night.

With an annoyed grunt, the young blond sat up in his bed and felt around the heap of sheets and pillows in search of his phone. Once his fingertips skimmed over the device, he immediately snatched it and hastily unlocked his phone.

"Who the hell called me at one AM?" He muttered in question to himself.

The brightness of Katsuki’s screen illuminated half of his room and his face. It made him squint at the light with great discomfort since his eyes weren't well-adjusted to the transition yet.

Dimming the illumination, his thumb tapped over to the "Recently Called" list and scrolled upwards to see who had just called his phone.

The swarm of heart emojis and your set contact picture - which you all had put in yourself - seemed to rouse Katsuki from his sluggish phase. He was more alert now as he read over the notification. 

Missed call from '(Y/N) 🥺💖💘😻💕' at 1:48 AM

Bakugo’s jaw clenched once he saw his S/O's name on his screen. He clicked his tongue in exasperation as he pressed your name so that he could return your call. "Goddammit, (Y/N) ..."

He rose his phone up to his ear and waited to hear your voice on the other line.

The number of times that Bakugou had scolded you for staying up late doing God knows what left him feeling as though he was your parent or guardian rather than your boyfriend. Why couldn't you just understand that sleep was fucking important?

Was that too much to ask for?

On the second ring, you immediately picked up his call. "Katsuki!?" He heard you say with a confused - yet lively - tone. "You're awake?"

"I am now," he replied, taking a quick pause to release a muffled yawn, "because you fucking woke me up."

You released an audible 'aww' at the sound of his yawn. You felt guilty for waking him up, especially over something so little. "Never mind then, you sleep. I'm so sorry for waking you!" You said, backtracking on your decision of talking with Katsuki.

Swinging his legs out from underneath his covers, Bakugou placed his bare feet onto the cool hardwood floor and rested his elbows on top of his knees. Even though he had no energy for it, he still wanted to talk to you. The sweet sound of your voice was something he didn't want to pass up.

"It's whatever, I'm awake now," he slurred. It was clear from his tone that he was still absorbed off the effects of his heavy sleep. "What'd you call me for?"

You pursed your lips and played with the ends of your (h/c) hair. "You're going to be mad..." You said, trying to stall your answer to his question. "It's stupid!"

"I won't be, tell me."

Bakugou was able to hear the delay and uncertainty on your end. You were clearly debating if you should tell him or not, but in the end, you just let out with it.

"I was craving ice cream and I wanted to get some with you!"

There was a long pause from Bakugou's side of the phone. You weren't sure if he hung up at your antics, or if he was just too speechless to respond. Either way, you called out for his name hoping that it was the latter.

"Kats-"

"Fine," he interjected before you could even finish.

"Wait, really?!" You exclaimed in pure shock. You were beyond excited that your grandpa of a boyfriend, who slept at 8:32 PM on school days, agreed on sneaking out with you. "You mean it?!"

Bakugou dragged a tired hand down his face and sighed. "Yeah. Now hurry up before I lose interest and fall back asleep."

"Okay, I'm gonna come to get you." You said from the other end of the phone. "Sorry for waking you again, I'll be there really soon so just wait outside, yeah?"

"I'll beat you up."

Katsuki then heard the melodic string of your giggles in response to his harmless threat. His features softened whilst the corners of his lips tug upwards at the thought of your smiling face.

Even when you two weren't even in the same room, you still managed to have his heart in a complete wreck. A slow, small smile lingered on his lips. "I'm serious, pull this stupid shit again and I'll do it."

"Sure, sure. Whatever you say!"

~~~

Sitting outside the front steps of his house, Bakugou watched with amused eyes as you pulled up into his family's driveway in a lousy fashion. Your driving capabilities, to say the least, wasn't... the greatest.

You came to a halt, unlocked the car and rolled down the window to greet your boyfriend. "Hey!" You said as you patted the seat adjacent to you. "See? I told you I wouldn't take long."

He shook his head and walked up to the passenger side, yanking the door open so that he could slide in. Once he was settled and buckled up, he leaned his head against the window and in a smug manner he asked, "What the fuck was that back there?"

You reversed out of the driveway with caution and out from his neighbourhood on towards the main roads. "What do you mean?"

"That was a poor excuse of a frontward park." He reclined the passenger seat halfway down and rested his toned arms behind his head, "Pathetic."

You swatted at Katsuki's knee once you saw him faintly bite down on his lip to stifle himself from bursting out in howling laughter. "Quit teasing me, you ass."

Since then, you had kindly asked Katsuki to stop distracting you. For you wanted to get the both of you to the ice cream cafe in one piece.

And he did exactly just that. Begrudgingly. He was very petty and adorned a cute scowl on his face when you told him. For the most part that is...

Pulling out from the vacant drive-thru, you managed to sneak a few scoops of cookie dough into your mouth before parking. It was just you who was eating. You offered to buy Katsuki one of his own, but he flat out refused. Claiming he doesn't like "that sugary shit".

As you continued to delicately eat another spoonful of ice cream, you felt the ash blonde’s prolonged stare on you. His crimson eyes followed the movement of your spoon from the cup and back to your lips, again... and again. It was almost as if he were in a trance.

You pulled your attention away from your treat to catch a glimpse at him. "You've been staring at me for a while now, Katsuki. What's wrong?"

His previously focused scowl now morphed into a softer emotion at the sound of your voice. "Nothing," he sat back up in his seat and nodded his head over to where the spoon wavered before your lips. "I want some.”

Your brows shot upwards, "Oh? Okay, say 'ah'..." You scooped up a hefty amount and held it out for him. You beamed as you watched him lean in to take a taste.

However, the cute moment was put to a swift end when Bakugou knocked the spoon out from your grasp and snaked his hand towards your face to cradle your cheek in a gentle manner.

"What the hell, Katsuki!" you yelped out as you watched in horror when the ice cream splattered all over the interior of your mother's car. "My mom's going to kill me once she sees this!"

Bakugou's eyes fluttered to a close while he rested his forehead against yours, completely ignoring your complaints of distress. "Quit worrying, (Y/N)." Was all he said before he closed the tiny space between you and him.

His nose gently nudged against yours and his kisses started off with a series of small pecks. But gradually, he became more demanding and wanted more. His hand fell onto your shoulder and he gave it a light, reassuring squeeze.

Bakugou felt your body stiffen from genuine surprise, but you composed yourself and shyly returned his kiss.

He kissed you with such need and force that you weren't sure if the same Katsuki you were kissing now; was the same sleepy grouch you were talking to around an hour ago.

You couldn't breathe. You placed a hand on his broad shoulder and pulled away so you could catch your breath. Confused and dazed, you managed to pant, "Wh...what was that? I... uh, what?"

Bakugou watched you practically go speechless for a second from that whole ordeal. He felt a great sense of satisfaction deep within his chest; your reaction unquestionably has boosted his ego.

He glides his tongue over his bottom lip, licking away any flavour or residue that was left there. All the while staring at you with lidded eyes, which left you smack-dabbed in the face with embarrassment and utter shock.

"I thought this would've tasted like shit," he pondered to himself, he swiped his thumb at the corner of your mouth, cleaning you off, "but I guess anything tastes good when it's on you."

"O-Oh-? I-"

Without missing a beat, you started up the car and rolled down the windows. It felt hot in that confined space, or maybe it was just you.

You tore your flustered gaze away from his triumphant one and awkwardly cleared your throat.

Perhaps taking Katsuki out at night was the wrong idea...

"I'm driving you the fuck back home."

[botherkupo]

😅😬🤩👍🤙 if you are still doing the shitty short stories from emojis!

(yep, and I got your other ask and decided to go with Ladrien. Enjoy!)

(Tw for mild blood)

Marinette would be lying if she said she hadn’t had dreams where she rescued Adrien from the evil clutches of an akuma. (Probably a Lila Level Four 4 Transformation.) He’d be smitten by her coolness as Ladybug, of course, and maybe reward her with a kiss or two. (Or three or four. She wasn’t gonna complain.)

Well, she’d managed to save him, alright. She’d just also got a bit too starstruck. He’d been swimming at the time and was currently shirtless in her arms. Very wet and shirtless. And did she mention that she had a huge, ridiculously embarrassing crush on him?

Yeah.

Anyway, her yoyo got caught on something and they faceplanted a wall. Hard.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” she cried, fretting over him but not quite touching. (She, of course, was fine thanks to her suit and its in-built defence boost.)

He groaned a bit and then smiled Paris’s most endearing smile, the same that could be seen on billboards all over the city. Except it was looking a bit bloody right now, and—

“Your tooth!” she exclaimed, clamping her hands to her cheeks in horror.

He’d lost a tooth. She’d made Adrien Agreste lose his front tooth.

“It’s okay,” he said, and then winced.

Oh no, oh no. She had ruined his beautiful face. Gabriel Agreste was going to kill her. All of Paris was going to kill her.

“It’s not okay!” she wailed. “This is terrible! I wanted to protect you and instead I got you hurt. I’m such an idiot!”

“No, no, it’s okay,” He touched her shoulder, which would have been heavenly at any other time, but right now she was just stuck on the fact he was missing a tooth and blood was still trickling from his mouth. “It was an accident, my—Ladybug. Don’t worry. Besides, the miraculous cure will fix it, right?”

She froze. “You’re right. The cure can, and I’ll make sure that it does!.”

He smiled as if to say he had complete faith in her, though it quickly morphed into a grimace. Poor guy had to be in a lot of pain.

“Don’t you worry,” she said, meeting his gaze with resolve. “I’ll have your smile back to normal in no time, hot stuff.”

Then she gave him thumbs up.

Thumps up.

(And called him hot stuff.)

Needless to say, she made her escape rather quickly. Not even if her Ladybug confidence could pull her through that one.

5 emoji game

[yutaya]

Iron Fist Rewatch 1x02: Shadow Hawk Takes Flight

These doctors seem very nonchalant about how close this dude just got to murdering Danny with a fork. No reassurance or apology - just pour drugs down his throat so they can hose him down. What a picture of The System.

Negative stereotype that has roots in truth - there ARE places like this and worse, but it's true that we very rarely see the good kind of facility represented in TV too. Sucks for them to always be portrayed as the bad guy, and probably harmful too if people really could benefit from them but are wary.

"Let's say [he IS Danny]. That would mean he somehow, miraculously, [1] survived a plane crash, [2] in the Himalayas, and that [3] for some unknown reason he waited fifteen years to come back, with [4] no shoes and a tendency toward violence." - Ward, reciting all the reasons he's been repeating to himself ever since the parking lot not to start thinking this might be Danny, frog and freezer stories or no.

"We're doing the right thing. We could have just had him arrested." Why DIDN'T you have him arrested, Ward? Oh right, HAROLD. ugh.

AU where Danny gets arrested instead. Unfortunately I THINK none of the other Defenders timelines work out so this would be a good time for them to meet him early, though... 🤔

Again with this bird. I completely forgot about this symbol theme.

Danny: "I was meditating." Doctor: "Oh!" Danny: "Yeah, I was trying to focus my chi so I could get out of here." Doctor: "Oh..."

Doctor's like: Oh, wow, this is an interesting level of specificity for a made up story...

I forgot how much I like this doctor. He's legit trying to help. I forget what happened to him...

Colleen is putting so much effort into insulting her students LOL. Also: Darryl's shoes are too big. Bc Colleen runs a struggling dojo in an underprivileged part of city as a safe haven for these kids and to help "teach them how to perform in the real world"

Parts of this conversation that will weigh on Colleen: "You saw me being attacked; you KNOW there's something weird going on." "One of the richest families in New York have a problem with you." "No, I don't have anyone else I can ask for help: you're the only one."

Ward: Ok, good, I'm hearing reasons why this guy can't be telling the truth and therefore cannot be Danny. That's good. I still feel kind of off though... but that's probably just the thing where Harold put cameras in the hospital. Yeah.

Poor Kyle.

Ward: "We can lobotomize him!" Me: "asdfghjkl WARD."

This shot of Harold's "smile" when he tells Ward  "You ARE one of my guys! One of my most trusted guys!" is SO CREEPY

You can see Colleen FREEZE when Ward introduces himself. Harold and Ward shooting themselves in the foot with this: they're lending credence to Danny's story from the phone convo.

Ward, one of the richest people in the city: "Lie to the authorities about that homeless dude being violent for my own personal benefit. Here's a blatant bribe."

Harold yelling at the spy footage like he's throwing popcorn at a movie.

POOR KYLE.

This is deeply uncomfortable for me on a personal level.

Joy: Hmmmmm. What possible reason... could "Danny's" doctor have... for asking that very specific question.... unless.........?

Ok but "tiny Danny wanted to be an acrobat and was always jumping around on things" makes it SO MUCH EASIER for canon-divergent AUs where Danny isn't in the plane crash to still include ninja warrior Danny I-

Harold, a known dead man, looming ominously in the shadows of Danny's mental hospital room: "Here's a message about how you have to come find me and help me. It's not very subtle so you'll probably get it." Danny: "Oh shit, maybe I am crazy...?"

Danny: "I was a warrior. Only in the middle of a fight did I fully come alive. The harder someone hit me, the more everything came into focus." Harold: "Hm. Note taken." Me: *crying emoji*

Show: "oooh, ominous, Harold's under the Hand's thumb. Maybe there's more to him, maybe he's sympathetic...?" Fans: "lol, nice try. We all clocked that creep-o the moment we saw him."

I've talked about Colleen's first impressions of the Meachums in general and Ward in specific before but. Dude. Dude.

Danny, thinking that his very last tentative hope (Colleen) has fallen through, receives a communication from Joy. ;____;

Had. Had Joy already opened the bag of m&ms. It was sealed when she pulled it out of her desk drawer so wh- OH. The hospital opened Danny's mail, including the candy bag, to inspect it before giving it to him. Hahaha *sob*

If Colleen hadn't come to see Danny here, their paths might have diverged. As far as he's concerned, Colleen has made it clear that she's not going to help him and that they're just two strangers in a big city. Turning the corner and seeing her come to visit him boosts that flame of hope that Joy's package rekindled even further. He thought he had no one, and now the amount of people he has is growing.

Ok but, in an AU where Colleen doesn't go see Danny / Danny doesn't know Colleen came to see him, that isn't necessarily the end of their relationship. On Colleen's side, she's still suspicious of this entire Meachum mess - it RADIATES corruption and Colleen is very much entrenched in the downworld of NYC, where the rich powerful elite hurt the most. Plus, Danny doesn't give up on people easily and honestly, he kind of sucks at taking a hint - if he went off to some Rand business with the in with Joy, he would still end up in all the Harold mess, and probably at some point be on the run (maybe with another person - oooh, would love to see that AU - Joy or Ward or both in tow with Danny on the streets, fleeing trouble, Danny saying "I know a place") and showing up at Colleen's door, like "I know you don't want any part of this, and I don't mean to bring trouble to your door, but there's nowhere else to go," and Colleen being like "get in, quick," with her windows already half shuttered and supplies on the table because she was already investigating herself - (it could turn into a whole thing, with Colleen having connections that she thinks she can trust to help them against the big bad Harold/Meachum conspiracy, but then it's the Hand, and-!)

Danny: "The Meachum family might think I'm a threat to them." Colleen: "And why would they think that?" Danny: "Because I'm Danny Rand and I own more than half the company." Me: "And also because you stalked Joy, broke into her house and their offices, terrified and almost killed Ward???"

But anyway this is only gonna fuel Colleen's narrative that this is all greedy corporate machinations and bloody rich people politics. (Literally bloody. Literally murder people in a "problem solving" way kind of bloody.)

GODDDD Colleen is so hot in this scene when she walks into Joy's office with her pushed up sleeves on her chinese bomber jacket and her shirt tucked into her rolled up pants and - her hands in her pockets and that black bracelet and the belt - !

This argument between Joy and Ward is so emotionally charged - Ward's now in a desperate position because Joy has no way of knowing that she has just become an obstacle to something that he can't allow to happen - because Harold can not allow it to happen, and he's pulling Ward's strings, and then - ! "What are you so afraid of, Ward?" It's Harold, he's afraid of Harold. "You should be more like Dad." Ugh. ugh! Shot through the heart! "Grow some balls." I'm crying. They've both learned such terrible things from their father.

GDI DANNY the doctor BELIEVED you and then you had to go start talking about alternate planes of existence and the Iron Fist UGH he thinks you're just trying to cope with the trauma I - UGH.

This doctor is honestly trying to help but he's confirming all of Danny's fears from what Simon told him about how this place operates.

Ward regularly has to come up with ways to convince an entire board to do weird things that Harold asks - like purchase some random warehouses in Brooklyn - without even knowing why

Ward: "'Danny' is a threat to us, to our family, to our business, and the smartest solution - the one YOU taught me - is to get rid of the problem as expediently as possible!" Harold: "No, protect him." Ward: "WHY?! I am asking you why. Explain it to me! Because from where I'm standing, protecting him is dangerous, and getting rid of him is safe!" Harold: "Because I said so, that's why. Now heel." Honestly, of COURSE Ward takes this into his own hands.

Ah, yes, our first glimpse at Ward's drug addiction.

What is their plan????? Just beat him to death!? Can't make it quick - why?? Are they trying to make it look like a simple altercation between inmates???

"Ward Meachum sends his regards." God, that's so heartbreaking. The idea that not only does Ward believe Danny is an imposter and a threat, enough to try to kill him and then to send him to a mental institution - but that once he's there, out of harm's way, if he IS a mentally unstable imposter - OR once proof is starting to trickle to the Meachums (in colorful chocolate form) that he actually IS their old friend Danny - that Big Brother Ward would go out of his way to strike a deal with some "low life mental hospital thugs" to beat Danny to death?? This moment, to Danny, must feel like a bigger betrayal to Danny by Ward than anything else so far.

Danny, on all fours, looks up at the full moon outside the window, at the hawk silhouette streaking across it, and smiles. Hawk as Danny's spirit guide AU cont., but ALSO: WEREWOLF AU WEREWOLF AU WEREWOLF AU

Danny. Danny. Please run. Busting a huge hole in the wall made a very loud noise, please stop just standing there and giving people time to catch up.

[0chronophobia0]

;; How do you imagine kurono relationship with each one of the members of the precepts?

-insert eyes emoji + sparkling emoji- this will be fun

ps- sorry this took so long to respond andlkjafkbhsegkb I fell asleep like 3 times while writing this and got distracted several times by philkas and malec

——–

Chisaki Kai (Overhaul) 

So, it is normal to see Kurono hanging out in the background when Chisaki is in the room, as he’s always following him around in case he needs anything at all, Overhaul’s thirsty? He’s got him covered, Fiji water for the best boss on earth 

Kurono has such a high admiration towards him, you’ll be able to catch him gazing at Chisaki and melting every time they lock stares, you’ll be able to view the exact moment Hari spills his uwus every time Kai looks at him

Would never dare address him as Chisaki or Kai though, he’d be dead where he stands if he did, he respects Kai too much, and therefore only calls him Overhaul, though sometimes he might slip but pick himself up before he can call him by his name, he’s slick and therefore able to distract Chisaki when stuff like this happens 

They’ve known each other for the longest time, Kurono knows almost everything about Chisaki and views him as his best friend, yet Chisaki has a hard time admitting he too sees Hari as his friend, but it is not as if it bothers Hari, as he is completely fine with the fact that Kai doesn’t view him as highly as he does, or so he thinks, Kai’s the boss anyway so it SHOULD be this way, right? 

Irinaka Joi (Mimic) 

Their relationship is… complicated. like they are friends but they are not at the same time.

They’re both very competitive when it comes to being the best co-leader of the Shie hassaikai, they’ve got this silent game where they are always trying to outsmart each other, well more like it is Kurono trying to be better than Irinaka and getting frustrated when Joi receives praise and he doesn’t, but Hari ain’t gonna complain because complaining will lead him nowhere. 

definitely takes advantage on the fact he’s very obviously Chisaki’s favorite to make sure Irinaka goes through a pranks hell, you bet Mimic was woken up in a daycare with other toys just as kids come racing in, of course, he can’t do much other than escape and assist work late because goddamn Hari had to so kindly deliver him to some children which pulled at his little arms and legs and drenched him in saliva, and also stabbed bows into his head, you know, peachy, has to burn that body afterwards because there’s no way in hell Kai will let him get close to him, so many fucking germs.

overall though, they are able to hold a serious conversation, but if they are left alone for too long Kurono might start pushing Joi’s buttons until the room becomes a battlefield.

when Kurono is angry he will pick up Mimic and throw him against a wall, it doesn’t hurt him much so… gotta take advantage of that.

Nemoto Shin

oh boy, oooooooohhhh boy. when you see these two together, you know you gotta be scared, be very afraid, they are NOT here for good, don’t move, don’t shake, don’t speak, don’t even b r e a t h e, one wrong move and you’re fucking dead

Together, they’re like those popular beautiful stereotypical blond high school girls, sarcasm is their virtue, and you bet they know every flaw about you, the moment they get together, and they land their eyes on you, you’re dead meat, so bitch you better go perfectly still or hoe, you already fckn ded.

Nemoto is Kurono’s go-to friend, since you know… Chisaki isn’t exactly the best best friend, Kurono has Nemoto to back him up whenever he needs something Kai can’t provide, aka something emotional or physical, Hari finds Shin lots of fun and it isn’t rare to catch them talking when Chisaki is nowhere to be seen, or even laughing with each other.

They do tend to keep things strictly professional around Chisaki or Irinaka though, often meeting up right after to talk about whatever and chitchat 

It may not seem like it, but Kurono loves drama, and who better than Nemoto to make people spill the tea? His quirk’s name should be tea spiller, not Confession, and honestly? Hari loves it, something he will more than proudly admit 

When the situation is given, they both flirt with each other and call each other lovey nicknames, you know like… “asshole”, “dickhead”, and occasionally they address each other as “boo” but that’s more of a friendly thing

None of them talk about it but once they got so high together the next day they woke up in the same bed, luckily fully dressed, but it ain’t like either of them cares, it is simply that Chisaki would kill Hari if he knew this.

Sakaki Deidoro

Well there isn’t much to say about Kurono’s relationship with him, other than he occasionally tagging along with him and Nemoto to go bar hopping incognito at 3 AM while Chisaki is asleep, Kurono often being forced to take a thorough shower when he gets back because the smell of alcohol isn’t something Chisaki likes to find on his #1 assistant 

For the most part, their relationship is due to work, as Kurono doesn’t see himself to be great friends with him, but still is willing to socialize with him, after all, he isn’t supposed to form strong bonds/relationships with the expendable bullets of the yakuza

Rikiya Katsukame

Again, there isn’t much to say, Hari things Rikiya is hot, he’s tall, muscular, and able to burst through a wall very easily, Kurono finds that amusing, and therefore is often seen checking him out with Nemoto, who simply agrees and adds on lmao.

_Doesn’t even talk to him tho unless it’s job-related, though sometimes he might tell him he’s done a good job after accomplishing a mission and leaves right after_

Hekiji Tengai

so, their relationship is quite complicated, since there are times Hari is responsible, stoic, and well-mannered, which is when he gets along with Tengai, they will talk politely over a cup of hot chocolate and Kurono will keep him up to date with anything he knows

but then there is when Kurono is in the mood to mess with everyone and you bet Tengai is his go-to target

Hari will tease him non-stop and make sure Tengai regrets seeing him that day, though when overhaul walks in he can’t say shit since by the end of the day he’s just another expendable serving under their command, and it’s not like Hari bothers him that much, as it is mostly just Kurono budging him and likely to get slapped, which only causes Hari to laugh whenever he’d get hit after annoying him

Rappa Kendou

Hari’s #3 favorite tbh, like, he simply likes this guy, there are no reasons why. Actually, there is, and it is that Rappa is simply a big puppy? You know, the kind to destroy your house while you’re gone and wants to bite everything with its little hurtfully sharp teeth? That Rappa to Hari

He’s so big,,,, Kurono loves that, he loves having to look up to stare at him in the face, he loves his strong build, he loves his arms, oh god his arms

you bet Kurono loves praising Rappa, whenever he fights, after overhaul, he is the first one to get a piece of Hari’s mind about his well-done job, thus boosting the guy’s ego, he often finds himself being able to control him better than many, this thanks to his quirk quick practically paralyzes him? until he’s calmed down

Kurono loves his gigantic pupper, you bet that Hari spoils him, Rappa is a good guy, if only he didn’t want to fight everyone to literal death, and that’s something Kurono acknowledges and finds amusing, he does his own thing, and doesn’t like being put into teams, as it has been seen before, but we all know Hari would not say no to overhaul

Setsuno Toya

Toya, Hari, and Shin are the mean girls of the Shie hassaikai, Hari is Regina George, Shin is Gretchen Weiners, and Toya is Karen Smith, he has the least power out of the three, but he’s nice to have around so they keep him in the group lmao

Kurono talks to Toya more through text than face to face, mostly because they send each other lots of memes and funny/ugly selfies, they also make mischievous plans to mess with Overhaul almost every day, and rarely have they been caught

Setsuno allows Hari to take his phone and send Overhaul vines asking him to see them, after all, Toya is suicidal, so he’s got nothing to lose, and even though Kurono appreciates Setsuno as a pal, he knows he can’t get attached, and therefore just does as he wants

though when Setsuno needs help, Kurono is more than willing to offer himself first, he may not be very good with advice and emotions though, but he is a good listener and will sit and hear him out through every rant along with a cup of hot chocolate 

They once made a plan together to prank overhaul and Kurono replaced Chisaki’s usual black surgeon mask with one that said ‘owo’ one morning and paid Toya to go up to him and say “good mowning mitew owohauw” and record it, but in addition to that, which made the video way better, Overhaul replied with a sigh, and in a very disappointed tone… “hewwo” 

Soramitsu Tabe

chompy boie, Kurono doesn’t usually talk to him, but sometimes he will bring the weirdest foods and feed them to Tabe just for fun 

He likes to invite him and Hojo when he hands out with Setsuno, since they are Toya’s friends, and together they will find reckless/fun stuff to do, of course, Overhaul never knows that Hari tags along with them, they keep Kurono covered -insert thumbs up emoji- 

Once, Hari gathered all the precepts and made them sit in a circle around Tabe and brought in a deep fried sock, together they all chanted until Tabe was so overwhelmed he ended up eating the sock

Yu Hojo

welp, Hojo is one of the only people he actually maintains a calm and professional relationship with, unless the gang gets together, but that’s another story

They chat and discuss about serious topics, sometimes Tengai will join them, and they’ll have a nice and calm time spent together but that’s about all they do

They also read novels and watch those dramatic Mexican novellas, and it is normal to see them talk about them, Hari knows Spanish and has tried teaching Hojo, but his accent is poor and his pronunciation is hopeless, though Hari still tries to teach him and Hojo tries even harder to learn