#and it ends with the main character getting shot in the stomach like what do you even do with that

[redbusters]

why does nobody talk about how absolutely deranged the divergent series was. i read those books when i was 12 but I went and read the wikipedia summaries the other day and they're genuinely insane? like yeah bad hunger games knock off but they're so much more than that. in a bad way to be clear. but i think we all need to spend more time acknowledging how crazy those books were.

[mbat]

i like my men terribly wounded to the point of needing help or else they wont recover. but in a way that isnt weird

[bwskj]

NSFW MDNI | jjk x reader

- jjk characters reacting to u asking them on call for a moaning audio -

chars: gojo, nanami, megumi, sukuna, yuuji, inumaki

notes: (text) are you; bulleted + written

tags: honestly just a lot of nsfw stuff, pls x away if ur a minor or uncomfy

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

gojo

— “baby what?”, he laughs amused, “did you just say you want me to send a moaning audio?”

— you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, “ah baby, well i could do that… just not for free. give me something to look at and i’ll make it, how about that?”

output: bro sends a hand held video of him jacking off while sitting on the living room couch. a part of his laptop sitting on the coffee table with your photo/video on it is shown in the upper half of the video, behind the main character that is his thick hard cock. satoru likes talking as if you’re there kneeling in front of him, pretending he’s got your face to tap his dick on before he fully wraps his hand around the girth and starts pumping. he often groans low with the occasional sharp inhales through gritted teeth. eventually, he gets to the point wherein he’s leaking so much pre-cum it’s enough to help him make big smooth strokes over his length. his camera angle ends up wonky sometimes because he’s too zoned in jerking off to you. “fuckkk baby, god you’re so—hot” and “shit… that’s mine, that fucking pussy belongs to me.” he sure loves his dirty talk, “bet you wanna ride this huh, baby? want your tight pussy walls sucking up my cock.” when he finally cums, you can tell he’s trying his best to not hold in his moans (cause ofc that’s what you’re looking for). his thighs tense, spreading apart as his cum shoots up high, loud groans with every shot that spatters all over his bare stomach. he aims the camera down at his messy torso, laying his dick on it as he swipes it across the mess around and on his happy trail. “i wanna see you lick this clean off, baby.”

nanami

—“excuse me? a what?” (you repeat yourself)

—hunched over his desk at work, he says, “honey i… don’t do that,” he sounds concerned that you would ask for such thing, “do you need it for… something?” you can imagine the stitch in his brow when he asks this.

— (you reply with a vague and teasing “maybe”) kento lightly huffs, seeming slightly bothered (?)“well, i’m busy right now… just… wait until i get home.”

output: no audio but what did you expect he was at work! not like he would do it though if he wasn’t. instead, on the way home, he’s got one thing on his mind. the thought keeps bubbling up in excitement, making him tap his foot in impatience as he rides the elevator up to your shared apartment. when you hear the jangle of his keys in the doorknob, you spring up from where you’ve been rotting. a smile immediately appears on your face when you see your boyfriend looking even more dashing with the appearance of a man who’s worked hard all day at work. “you’re home, i—“ you’re about to tell him you’ve missed him but he cuts you off when he closes the distance, leaning in and catching your lips with his. he drops his work bag on the floor as the big palm of his hand slides onto your back. he pulls you close, not giving you the chance to speak anymore as his deep hungry kiss keeps your mouth busy. you manage to make at least the sound of, “mphh.. Kento!” when his lips pull back a bit. you can tell he’s trying to hold himself back, his jaw and shoulders feeling rigid when your hands feel over them. “couldn’t wait to get home,” he mumbles when his mouth detaches for a second — basically, yea, he fucks you pretty much the whole night or until you can’t take any more. everything he does is meant to please you; he thrives on giving you, his pretty princess, what you want, feeling fulfilled when he knows he can keep you more than satisfied.

sukuna

— “the fuck? a moaning audio? why would i do that?

— he stretches his jaw, the eyes on his cheeks fluttering a little eye roll. he speaks into the mic at a low volume, “baby if you miss being dicked down just say so…”

— “uhuh yea, keep pretending you don’t want it til you’ve got this cock in your mouth, right? stay put. i’m coming over”

output: no moaning audio. he gets to your place in 10 minutes (how the fuck he got there that quick you’ll never know). when you greet him at the door, mouth ajar in surprise, you can’t stop yourself from cheekily saying, “well, isn’t somebody excited?”

“i wanna know what the bitch who’s asking for an audio sounds like when she gets what she actually wants,” he cockily spits out as he looms over you by the still open door frame.

your eyes widen at his response but you can only stutter before his hand is suddenly holding you by your throat. he welcomes himself in, shutting the door behind him while you almost stumble back into your hallway. your hands instinctively reach to grab at the back of his hand around your neck. not even a second later and his other hand grabs one of yours, tugging it and placing it over the tent in his pants. his fingers sandwiched around your neck begins to squeeze and you accidentally sound out a moan. you can feel his sharp nails pricking your nape. his hand holding yours guides you into palming him. a dark smirk is on his face. “i’m fucking hard. do something about it.”

long story short: he rails you (on your bed, in front of the mirror, doggy style or just backshots in general— he loves pinning your wrists behind you and watching your tits bounce everytime he pounds into you. when you’re on top, he doesn’t even give you the chance to ride him on your own). “how you liking this, huh? sweet little slut. you like this fat cock fucking your stomach? isn’t this better than some shit tease through the phone?”

megumi

— his cheeks warm when he hears the words through the phone, “what’s that?” He asks though he knows full well what you mean (i think megumi would be a secret tumblr user).

— you carefully explain it to him. there’s hesitation in his voice when he says, “oh, i see…”

— alarmed by the way his voice trailed off, you reassure him that he doesn’t have to do it if he doesn’t want to.

— he replies with a slightly stammered okay and the call eventually awkwardly ends with exchanged ‘i love you’s and ‘talk to you later’s

— you feel slightly embarrassed for voicing your request but it’s not long before you forget about it. it was worth a shot.

— that night, while you’re snuggled up in your cozy blanket, you receive a single voice note from megumi with no message attached

— megumi blushes as he stares at the file he just sent, wondering if he did it okay. you don’t know that he jack offed and recorded not even five minutes after your call ended.

output: when you press play you’re immediately met with the semi-distant sounds of megumi’s shaky gasps and breathy low moans. it looks like he sent you a recording of the most interesting part of his session wherein wet stroking sounds are being picked up by his phone. there’s oftentimes soft whimpers that slip through, the noise of his bed covers shifting on his skin almost overpowering it when he gets more and more into fucking his hand (or whatever he’s slotting his dick through). you have to replay it a couple times to make sure you heard right—pride blooming within you when you’re certain he’s whimpering and mumbling out your name. his moans rise in pitch and grow more rugged the closer he gets to his climax. “a-ah… mm—hah.. gonna c-cum,” you can hear the strokes getting faster and the sheets being gripped tight. when he cums, he gets even louder, noisy staggering moans falling out his mouth. you just know his throbbing dick is thrusting up while chasing his high. when it dies down, you can hear soft panting and then the sound of his phone being picked up. there’s a silent pause before his voice comes through low and crisp, “i… hope you liked that.”

yuuji

— “a what audio??”, he laughs, “you’re kidding!” His laugh fades when he realises you aren’t.

— “wait seriously, you’re into that? like those audios on reddit or something?”

— (“… you know those?” you ask curiously.)

— yuuji gets flustered, he stutters, “i-i don’t—I accidentally came across them once. kinda freaked me out, ngl…”

— (“freaked you out?”)

— “yea, i dunno, never imagined guys to be doing that for a living. and i didn’t know there were girls who especially liked that.”

— (“really… well a lot of girls actually like that. but yea, i guess you wouldn’t really know, cuz you know,” you lightly tease.)

— yuuji rubs a hand over his blushing cheek, “you don’t have to keep reminding me that you’re my first…”

— (he always reacts like this and so you remind him again [you love reminding him], “sorry my yuuji, but you know, i love being your first, especially knowing that my competition is literally THE jennifer lawrence.”)

— you can hear the smile yuuji is trying to keep down, “and your 100x better than her,” (honestly, you just tease him to hear him say this again)

— (“so what about that audio?”)

— “hm?” yuuji didn’t even realize it until now that he’s got a hand over the boner jutting through his boxers

— you quickly reassure him that he can say no if he doesn’t want to. there’s a silence that hangs for a moment in the call, and when you’re about to say something again to dismiss the topic, he starts, “could you… maybe, talk me through it?”

output: you piece together that yuuji’s turned on. “are you… hard rn?” your voice comes gentle through the phone and yuuji grabs his dick stronger through the cloth, pushing his palm against it. he shudders, “m-maybe.” your voice sounds so good.

“are you…” you trail off, but yuuji knows what you mean. he quickly replies, “is this okay? you can tell me if it’s not, i-i’ll stop.” yuuji doesn’t want to stop but he’s stiffened his hand on his dick to try to stop himself from touching further without your consent.

there’s another short pause before you say, “mm, it’s okay, yuuji… you need help?”

“mhm,” he hums, instantly resuming his hand movement. there’s slight guilt when he clears his throat and says, “s-sorry our call kind of—went in another direction, it’s okay if you don’t want to. I can—“

your laugh cuts him off, “sweetie it’s okay. i’d like to help. we’ll hit two birds with one stone since i wanted an audio anyway.”

yuuji blushes even harder. “I… I’ll try to not… hold it in.”

you grin, biting at your lip as you lay in your bed with your phone planted on your ear. “Good… you’ll give me what i want hm?”

Yuuji’s breaths are beginning to tremble as he continues to rub himself to the sound of your voice. “y-yea, for you… i’ll do what you want.”

it gets more serious when yuuji finally takes his dick out his boxers and starts pumping it up and down; it’s almost fully hard. he loves it when you ask him what he’s doing, what he’s thinking about. his moans start off quiet but when you tell him you wanna hear him, his voice breaks and he lets a louder sound come out his throat. “can you imagine your hand as my hand, or my mouth?” you ask him. at this point your thighs are squeezed together and you can feel the wetness pool in your panties. this makes yuuji moan even louder.

after a couple minutes of this teasing dirty talk, yuuji can’t take it anymore and the needy words, “fuh… i… i want to see you. c-can i?” slip out of his mouth.

it turns into a video call after the both of you move to transfer to your laptops. you can see yuuji’s tip peeking from the bottom edge of the screen. his shirt is on and it’s lightly sticking to his skin, likely because he’s starting to sweat. when you turn on your camera, your pretty face comes into view and you’re in the usual clothes you wear at home: loose shirt, no bra, panties. you can instantly tell yuuji’s back to jerking himself, though you can’t see his whole hand or his face at all.

“let me see you, sweetie,” you say, hand digging between your sticking thighs and going over your clothed crotch.

his movement slows, “shit, you wanna see me?” he sounds embarrassed. you nod. yuuji is obviously reluctant, but he listens, repositioning his laptop further so it captures his face and dick in hand. you feel yourself throb at the sight.

it isn’t long before you’re touching your bare pussy in front of the camera, tits out on display. you’re lewd and so is yuuji, now more confidently moaning as he pleases himself to you. between your own sounds, you softly say, “gosh my pretty baby. you’re doing so well,” knowing how your boyfriend is secretly a sucker for praise. yuuji groans, body jerking as his face flushes even redder. “will you come for me?” you say. you’ve got him in the palm of your hand.

yuuji’s a moaning needy mess, the hand not on his dick pinning the hem of his shirt high up. “fuugh… y-yes… yes for you. I’ll come… i’m about to—about… agh—“

yuuji’s hand pumps the tip fast and he cums strongly, head bowing as his hips thrust up and he shoots white. “Ah~ oh~,” he’s shaky and noisy all the way through his high. when he finally lifts his head up to look at you, you’re sweetly smiling (you came watching him cum but he missed it ://). you stare at one another for a moment before the both of you let out (somewhat nervous) laughter.

yuuji pats sweat off his forehead with the back of his clean hand, careful not to have the other covered in his own cum go near his bed sheets. “gosh, you’re good. i’m so lucky to have you.”

you beam. “and i’m so lucky to have such a pretty, handsome boyfriend. you did great.”

he shyly looks away, biting on his lip to suppress a smile, “thank you.”

inumaki

— you text him asking for a moaning audio (unless u want inumaki to go tuna tuna at u on call lmao)

— “?”

— “how do i make that?”

— you send him a voice note explaining what kind of audio it is, making sure to tell him he doesnt have to do it if he doesnt want to

— “…”

— “okay…”

— “i totally thought you wanted to hear me in pain and i was… concerned.”

— (“??? baby pls no?!)

— “thank god”

— there’s a pause in the chat

— “i would send if i could.”

— (“wdym? if you don’t feel comfortable about it it’s okay maki”)

— “no… um”

—(“?”)

— “i don’t really get hard unless ur here.”

— (you stare at his message before sending an “oh !”)

— “yea… nothing else does it for me. sorry.”

— (you’re both blushing and stricken by his response. “no baby don’t be sorry TT you don’t need to do this. i can always hear you in person.”)

— “sure?”

— (“yes for sure TT”)

— “:p i’ll make those sounds for you next time if you really like them.”

output: next time you see each other, it starts off as usual. a casual date outside before going back to his place for nightly cuddles and eventually… that. it’s clear inumaki remembers you’re conversation without you having to bring it up. he’s nervous at first (he’s always been pretty quiet mostly because he’s mindful of using his voice), and you see it in his eyes. “just let it out okay? it’s just me here,” you whisper when you softly kiss under his neck, a little shy as well. soon, when you’re kissing, touching, and sucking him all over, his moans are tiny sharp inhales and whimpers rising up his throat; they come out somewhat muffled because of his closed mouth. since he can’t really risk saying anything, he’ll tell you that he feels good with a hand combing through your hair or a thumb caressing your skin. he’ll buck up into your throat when he cums, his mouth accidentally opening to sound out a breathier vocal moan. when you pull up, wiping your mouth after swallowing, he doesn’t hesitate to pull your face close, kissing you sweetly. you know it’s his way of saying ‘thank you. i love you.”

—— <3

a/n: wrote smth diff today (context: i usually write leon kennedy stuff) these are just my headcanons so i’d love to hear what u guys think! xoxo i had sm fun writing this hehe

also, can u guess who my fav char is? (it’s not the one with the longest part— mb that some are longer than others, idk how to stop smtms)

[taevbears]

Movie Night

When horror movies don't scare you anymore, your boyfriend wants to figure out what you are afraid of.

⤑ pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader (feat. the Daegu boys) ⤑ genre: horror, mystery, suspense, one-shot ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.1k ⤑ warnings: obsessive behavior, stalking, depictions of kidnapping, torture, and multiple murders, hidden camera, non-explicit sex, a bit of angst, open ending. this fic gets pretty dark, so please be cautious of the warnings! ⤑ note: happy halloween! this started as a little spooky shower thought i had a little over a month ago and became this lol. i love reading scary stories, but lmao, i feel like i'm not very good at writing them. thank you @angelicyoongie for assuring me that this isn't as terrible as i think it is. also please note that this is a work of fiction and i don't think IRL jungkook is like the character in this fic at all

“No, please! Don’t hurt me!”

The shadow of a muscular, male figure looms over the female protagonist. His breaths are heavy from chasing her around, barely visible against the chilly, October air. Finally, he has her cornered. He holds up a sharp knife in the air.

The woman trembles on the ground, sobbing and pleading for her life to be spared. Mascara runs down her cheeks, and a look of hopelessness and despair fills her eyes. She holds her hands in front of her in a feeble attempt to defend herself.

The camera pans away as the killer violently stabs the woman. Her terrifying screams of pain and anguish echoes from the TV screen as fake blood splatters on the wall.

Blue and white light bathes over you and your date in the dim living room. You try to suppress a long yawn with the back of your hand.

You’re so bored, you’re practically in tears.

“You didn’t like it?” Jungkook asks you, chuckling at your reaction.

“It didn’t scare me,” you admit sheepishly, hoping he doesn’t get the wrong idea.

You love horror movies. It’s what inspired you to become a film student. You love being on the edge of your seat from the thrill and suspense that the main character acts out. You love being genuinely shocked from unexpected twists and jump-scares. You love a good ghost story that haunts you long after the credits roll, or the paranoia of a similar terrifying incident happening to you.

But perhaps, over time, they’ve lost a bit of their magic.

Although the production of movies has become phenomenal in recent years, movies these days seem to rely too heavily on shock value and nostalgia. Once popular franchises are milking out their legacies to a newer audience. There are so many retellings of the same, old stories that you can already accurately predict what will happen before you reach the ending. Even some of the most climactic scenes of the movie are so over-the-top, they’re almost comical.

Honestly, it has nothing to do with your date or even the so-called horror movie itself. You just don’t scare as easily anymore.

Jungkook peers are you curiously, a boyish grin on his face. “Then, what are you scared of?”

“I don’t know. Probably nothing.”

“Yeah? That’s a bold statement.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Jungkook laughs. “You have to be scared of something.”

You throw the question back at him. “Then, what are you afraid of?”

He thinks about it, rubbing his chin in thought and pushing his tongue against the lip rings on his mouth. Then, he meets your gaze. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he smiles at you. “Hmm, I think I’d be scared to lose you.”

You find yourself smiling back at him.

“You’re so sweet, Kook,” you tell him, leaning over to kiss him.

Only recently, you and Jungkook started dating officially, and you really like him a lot. He’s very cute, funny, handsome, and perfect in many ways. Butterflies flutter in your stomach when you’re around him, and there’s still that exciting giddiness and eagerness of new love whenever he messages you or visits you in the evening.

In some ways, Jungkook is almost too good to be true.

Part of you wonders if there’s a catch.

But with his lips on yours, it’s easy to push that thought aside.

Credits roll on the screen as the movie comes to an end. His fingers glide up your thigh as yours tangle into his hair. The cool piercing on his lips presses against your bottom lip as he slips his tongue in your mouth, and a soft moan escapes you.

Suddenly, Jungkook pulls away and faces the TV. He uses the remote to tap out of the movie credits and browse through the list of recommended shows on your streaming service. Casually, trying to hide a teasing smirk, he asks, “How about we watch a different movie, then?”

You stare back at him, a bit stunned and flustered. But your own smile touches your lips.

“Or,” you suggest, grabbing his wrist to lower the remote. He turns away from the screen to look at you, eyes lingering on the sultry smile on your lips. “I know something else we can do instead.”

When you first saw Jungkook, you thought you were being catfished.

His selfie on the dating app included a slight head tilt, a pucker of his pierced lips, and a peace sign. Big, doe-shaped eyes stared back at you from your phone screen, and you noticed the tiny moles below his lip, on the tip of his nose, and on his cheek.

The second picture was of him and his brown doberman, affectionately named Bam. The picture was taken of them outside. One of his hands was holding a tennis ball and the other was gently touching the dog’s long ears. A small, fond smile tugged on your lips when you looked between them and realized that they kind of looked alike.

The third picture was him at the gym. It was a back-shot where he was using the equipment. Broad shoulders, buff arms and back, a tiny waist. You stared way too long at his strong muscles and the ink on his arm before you finally swiped right.

Turned out, much to your surprise, he liked your pictures too. The two of you were a match.

And it wasn’t long until he sent his first message to you. In your inbox, a simple: “hey :)”

On your first date, the two of you agreed to meet at a very public, very crowded bistro. You stood nervously by the building, dressed nice for the occasion. And in case anything went wrong or if this Jungkook guy wasn’t who you expected him to be, you shared your location and had a “send help lol” message on standby for your bestie, Min Yoongi.

As you waited, scrolling through and jumping around different apps on your phone, you found yourself to be surprised yet again.

Someone who looked like the guy you’ve been chatting with called out your name. And soon, he was standing in front of you: big eyes, bigger muscles, tiny beauty marks on his face, colorful ink on his arm, a charming smile, and a simple, “Hey, I’m Jungkook.”

One date turned to a second date. Then, a third. And by the fourth date, as he laid in your bed that night and snuggled close to you, it finally started to sink in that Jungkook wasn’t some figment of your imagination.

He was real, and sweet, and seemed to really like you as well.

Jungkook, like you, had an interest in filming. He especially liked editing videos for his dance challenges, short clips, and a series he called “Golden Closet Film” on his channel. While you imagined yourself to be a big director, working in movie sets, and making scripts come to life with your vision, Jungkook told you he’d like to film a project where you’re the star.

“I don’t think I’m on-screen material,” you replied, amused by the idea. You’re not an actress. You don’t think you have the kind of beauty filmmakers seek out for their lead roles. Hell, if anything, Jungkook would be a better fit for an acting gig.

“You are,” he insisted, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. “To me, you’re perfect.”

You smiled at him then, your heart fluttering by his words. “You are to me, too.”

It was shortly after that conversation when you both decided to date each other exclusively. And it felt like the kind of romance you’d see in the movies. Picture perfect, a little corny at times, and a thrilling whirlwind of laughter, teasing remarks, and intimate touches.

“Am I who you thought I’d be?” Jungkook asks you the next morning after the movie-night bust, propping himself up on the side and peering down on you. His arm flexes, colorful ink decorating it, as the thick comforter wraps around his bare body.

“No,” you confessed, still a bit tired from last night. You keep your eyes closed as you quietly murmur, “You’re even better.”

“Yeah?”

You don’t need to open your eyes to see the pleased look on his face. As you feel him press his lips against your cheek, you ask, “What about me? Am I who you thought I’d be?”

Had you opened your eyes then, perhaps you would’ve seen it. The blank look on his face as he pulls away from you, how the light in his eyes suddenly seems to vanish, as if he isn’t really looking at you anymore.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you right away. When you open your eyes, you see him shaking his head. The same, sweet boyish smile appears on his lips.

“You’re exactly what I’m looking for.”

The topic about exes inevitably came up early on in your relationship with Jungkook. You’ve dated casually before. Even thought you’d be getting somewhere with some of the guys you were talking to.

But none of them quite compared to Kim Taehyung.

You were a film student. He was a photography major. The two of you were bound to end up in some of the same classes together in the art division.

To you, it was love at first sight. You fell for him so hard and so fast.

What started as bumping into each other at the library and helping each other with assignments led to making out at each other’s dorms with the text books left unopened. Coffee dates between classes became anniversary dinners at nice restaurants. He introduced you to his parents, and you proposed going on a romantic getaway together.

The day you didn’t think you’d ever love anyone else was when he snapped a photo of you looking out at the scenery during that weekend trip. It was just you and him, and a natural setting that looked straight out of a movie.

He smiled to himself as he looked at the picture through his camera. That day, he called you his muse.

And in return, you told him that you loved him.

When you fell for Taehyung, you fell hard and fast. Eventually, it occurred to you that Taehyung didn’t do the same.

Sure, he cared about you. Sure, he loved you. But while you heard wedding bells and dreamed about your future with him, Taehyung was just starting to put himself out there in the world. His art was being recognized, and he was getting booked to shoot at weddings, parties, and other big events every week.

Soon, the dates happened less frequently. The romantic gestures of bringing you flowers, surprising you on nice dates or small gifts, or even renting your favorite movies to watch together happened even less. He would promise that he’d make it to a party or an important event to you, just to let you down. And it felt like him giving you a bit of affection or attention was a chore.

Taehyung was the world to you, but the petty arguments and the distance that started growing between you two made it clear to you where his priorities were. And it wasn’t with you.

Breaking up with him was the hardest thing you had to do. Both of you knew it was coming. It was just a matter of who broke up with who first.

Just as Taehyung came into your life, quickly and effortlessly, he was gone. Nothing but bittersweet memories of what once was and what could have been weighed heavily on you for months.

What made it worse was that Taehyung, a man you loved with all your heart, had moved on from you so fast and so easily.

You saw him and his new girlfriend at a mutual friend’s party. You were warned that he’d be there, that he was already seeing someone. But it still hurt like hell to see him happy and in love with another person.

But if Taehyung could move on, so could you.

It felt weird at first, but you started to put yourself out there again. You joined dating apps. You went out with the people that fancied your interest. You met Jungkook.

And from there, everything was history.

With Jungkook, you started to think about Taehyung a lot less. The plaguing “what ifs” have quieted down, and the hurt from heartbreak began to heal. With Jungkook, you started to feel like yourself again: you started to smile more, laugh more loudly, enjoy watching movies again, became passionate about cinematic ideas you’d like to create one day.

With Jungkook, you’re also cautiously optimistic.

Because like Taehyung, you feel yourself falling hard and fast for Jungkook. It’s almost scary how truly perfect he is.

“I think you’re just psyching yourself out,” Yoongi tells you, sliding into the chair opposite of you with two cups of coffee in his hands. He smells like freshly-baked cookies. A spot of flour stains his apron as he uses his fifteen-minute break to hang out with you.

“Maybe,” you sigh, gratefully taking the drink he hands you. “What do you think about him?”

“Does my opinion even matter at this point? You’re in love with him,” he drawls before taking a sip of his Iced Americano.

“Of course it does, best friend. Why else would I keep you around?” you remark, taking a sip of your own drink. “Besides the free coffee and cookies. Thank you, by the way.”

He rolls his eyes. The perks of being friends with the cookie boy at your local bakery is a free cup of coffee and getting dibs on leftover treats that didn’t sell the day.

“He’s fine. Kind of annoying. A little too energetic,” he answers as his eyes flit toward the TV screen that his boss keeps on. A woman dressed in bright, business clothing holds a microphone as she reports on the recent news. There’s a grim look on her face.

You have your back turned to it, but you can hear Yoongi’s boss turning up the volume.

Breaking news. Missing woman found dead near home. The victim has succumbed to multiple stab wounds. It is believed that she has been kidnapped and tortured prior to her violent death. The attacker is currently unknown and still at large. Local authorities advise staying indoors and to please report any suspicious activity.

Your heart sinks as you look over your shoulder, seeing police taping off the crime scene and answering what they can to the news outlets. The location is so close to where you are.

“This is the second victim,” a customer mutters with a frown.

The person they’re with nods their head and asks, “Do you think they’re connected?”

“I don’t know. I hope not. We’ll have a serial killer in our hands.”

“Hey,” Yoongi calls your attention. When you look at him, there’s concern on his face. “If you need a ride anywhere, make sure you call me. Doesn’t matter what time.”

“I’ll be okay, Yoongi. Jungkook usually comes to my place anyway.”

“Still. Just let me know that you’re still alive when I check in, all right?” he says as he stares at the screen. You don’t blame him for being worried. As you follow his gaze, you see a picture of the latest victim of the ongoing case that has the whole town on edge.

This woman, like the others, kind of looks like you.

“If you’re with me, you have nothing to worry about,” Jungkook assures you, throwing a tennis ball as Bam hurriedly chases after it. 

The two of you are at a park with his dobermann. Despite how scary it’s been lately with the news, it’s a nice day. Children are screaming and playing together on the playground as their parents watch them nearby. A group of teenage boys are playing basketball on the outdoor court. Middle-aged and elderly couples are paired up and are getting their daily steps in.

“My hero,” you joke half-heartedly, but you’re still a bit concerned. Yoongi being worried about you makes you feel paranoid.

Jungkook turns to you. He holds out his hand as Bam retrieves the ball and drops it for another throw. “I thought you weren't afraid of anything.”

“Movie-wise, I’m not. But this is different.”

Jungkook throws the slobbery ball again. Further this time as Bam barks happily and takes off. He takes a seat next to you on the park bench. “I can leave Bam with you when I have my evening shifts. He makes a good guard dog.”

He works as an editor and cameraman for a big content creator, which gives him lots of flexible hours to work on his projects when he isn’t busy filming. Since the beginning of autumn, his boss has been giving him evening work to film ghost-hunting videos and other spooky content for Halloween.

“That’ll be nice,” you reply with a small smile. The two of them have been coming to your place so often, it might as well be their second home.

From a short distance, Bam lies on the grass with the tennis ball by his paws. His tongue is out, needing a short break from running around, as he faces you and Jungkook. Even with other dogs and kids around, he’s very well-behaved.

Just as Jungkook tells you that he’ll get Bam, the sound of small, excited barks grab your attention. A familiar black and brown pomeranian approaches you like an old friend, wagging its tail and perking its ears up when it sees you.

Your heart nearly jumps when you recognize the dog.

“Tan!”

You know that voice. How could you not?

That deep, smooth baritone has haunted you for months.

Taehyung, your ex-boyfriend, stops in his tracks when he realizes why his pomeranian took off. The two of you were still together when he adopted Yeontan, and you were there to help raise him when he was still a puppy.

“Who’s this?” Jungkook asks, drawing your attention back to him. He reaches out to pet Yeontan, but the pomeranian growls at him. Almost like he wants to protect you from him.

“Sorry, he’s mine,” Taehyung apologizes, stepping closer to you two and picking his dog up. He looks at you as he tries to soothe the agitated Yeontan in his arms. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you reply politely. Old feelings start to pull on your heart strings that you fervently try to ignore. “I’m good.”

“You look good,” Taehyung starts, but then he purses his lips in regret. It’s obvious that he’s nervous to talk to you. Maybe he feels the same as you.

Softly, you reply, “You do, too.”

“Who’s this?” Jungkook repeats. This time, there’s an annoyed look on his face as he stares at Taehyung. 

It puts you off a bit. Jungkook is usually a friendly guy.

“Oh, this is Taehyung. We used to date,” you tell him honestly. Though, the information seems to just annoy him more. “Taehyung, this is—”

“I’m Jungkook. She’s my girlfriend now.”

His arm snakes around you possessively. He holds a steady gaze, but it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. Dark, threatening, and angry. It’s almost unnerving.

“I see…” Taehyung trails off as his gaze shifts toward him. Yeontan is still in his arms, growling and barking at Jungkook. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the pup so aggressive toward someone. Even Bam comes over, ditching his ball to guard over you and Jungkook.

“It was nice to see you, Taehyung,” you tell him, sensing the tension in the air and deciding to cut things off. He seems reluctant to leave.

“Yeah…” he continues to trail off, finally pulling his gaze away to look at you. It looks like there’s a million things he wants to say to you. In a lower tone, he tells you, “My number is still the same. If you ever want to talk.”

You frown. After the breakup, you’ve deleted his number and unfollowed him on social media. “Oh, I don’t—”

“Then I’ll call you,” he promises, firm with his decision.

You don’t get it. You and Taehyung have run into each other after the breakup before, and he’s never had an issue with you dating anyone after him. He clearly has moved on, and so have you. 

Why now?

What is it about Jungkook that has him worried for you?

“I don’t like that guy.”

Jungkook is still heated as he drives you home. His grip is tight around the steering wheel, and the tires screech when he makes a sharp turn. Bam stumbles a bit in the back before sticking his head out the window again.

“Slow down, Kook. You have nothing to be worried about.”

The radio blasts in the car, too much in a rush to connect his playlist to the stereo. It’s playing the week’s top music, and a catchy song from a popular artist fills the car.

Curious, you open your phone and check your followers. You’ve unfollowed Taehyung a long time ago on all your social platforms, finding it hard to look at any of his recent pictures – even just his scenic photography – without thinking about how he had once called you his muse.

But Taehyung never unfollowed you. He had always kept his inbox open for you.

“Did you see the way he was looking at me? It’s like he was looking down on me,” he continues to rant, speeding over a yellow light. He glances over at you and sees that you’re distracted with your phone. “I don’t like how you were looking at him either.”

“Are you serious?” you ask, turning your attention to him. “We barely talked. What the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

On the radio, the program is interrupted. One of the hosts makes a grim announcement.

Ladies and gentlemen, we just received unfortunate news that a third body has been found pertaining to a series of brutal deaths. 

“You still love him! You’ll go back and leave me again!” he suddenly snaps, throwing you off guard.

Silence follows the tension.

Then, you inquire, “Again?”

The third victim is a young female. Hair color and eye color match the previous victims as well, indicating that this might be a targeted attack by the killer.

Not once have you been unfaithful to Jungkook. Even when you were starting to message each other, you weren’t talking to anyone else. The two of you haven’t even been dating that long.

“Forget I said anything,” he starts with a frustrated sigh. But he realizes he’s fucked up.

“No, I’m not just going to forget it. What do you mean by that, Jungkook?”

As of now, authorities have no leads on a suspect. All victims have been kidnapped, tied up, and tortured prior to their deaths. We are led to believe that this is the work of a potential serial killer. 

He nearly slams to a stop. The seatbelt around you yanks you back from hitting the dashboard. Bam falls to the floor and you gasp as the back of your head hits your seat.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you, but for the first time, it feels like the rose-tinted glasses you have on him have fallen off. He’s always been perfect to you: sweet, athletic, talented, and kind. But the Jungkook before you is someone completely different.

This Jungkook scares you.

Stay inside. Lock your doors. Call the police if you see anything suspicious. Be safe out there, folks.

“I told you to forget about it, didn’t I?” he asks through gritted teeth and a harsh look in his eye.

You nod your head, hands trembling a bit as you hold onto your vibrating phone. The screen shows an unknown number trying to contact you.

“Is there a reason why your boyfriend called me?” Yoongi asks you from the other line. He has you on face-time, awkwardly propping up the camera to show his elbow as he mixes a batch of cookies.

It’s been about a week since you saw Jungkook.

After he dropped you off at home, he wanted to put it all behind him. He kissed you sweetly and murmured apologies for overreacting as his hands slipped under your shirt. But you sent him home before he could convince you to sleep with him. You were still upset about how hostile he was toward Taehyung, his accusations about you, and what his outburst meant.

That hasn’t stopped him from trying to get back to your good graces, though.

The number of missed calls from him keeps increasing by the hour. Ones that you leave unanswered or send straight to your voicemail. 

You don’t want to talk to him.

At your door, you hear him rapping his knuckles against the wooden frame and insistently ringing at your doorbell. From the other side of the door, he begs for a chance to explain. 

You don’t want to see him.

Clearly, after reaching you directly hasn’t worked, he’s starting to contact your friends.

“He’s probably trying to find me,” you tell Yoongi, poking at a bowl of fresh strawberries. You’re still dressed in your pajamas, sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter.

The sound of a small dog can be heard in the background of your line. It dawns on him that you’re not at your place or Jungkook’s.

Yoongi is silent for a moment. Then, he grabs the phone and asks, “What do you mean? Where are you?”

You don’t feel safe in your own home. And that day, while you were in Jungkook’s car, Taehyung called to check up on you. He was always good at reading people, and he warned you that he had a bad vibe about Jungkook.

And you’re starting to see what he meant.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

When you turn your phone, you reveal Taehyung busy in the kitchen, cutting off the crusts from his sandwiches. He looks over his shoulder and gives a sheepish smile at the scandalized expression on your best friend’s face. “Hey Yoongi.”

“Can you please explain what’s going on? Why are you at your ex’s?”

So, you do. You tell him that Jungkook wouldn’t leave you alone, that you needed some space to cool off but he wouldn’t let you breathe. It was becoming overbearing and overwhelming.

Against your better judgment, you call Taehyung. He invites you to stay over at his place until you’re ready to talk things out with Jungkook. Because even if you’re not together, he still cares about you. Because a part of him will always love you. And at the time, it seemed like a good idea.

“I didn’t want to be alone, especially with a killer targeting women like me out there,” you explain quietly. It feels like the murders have increased in a shorter period of time. If the town wasn’t on edge before, they certainly are now. “But I was still mad at Jungkook, and he was starting to scare me.”

“So the first person you go to is your ex-boyfriend?”

“There’s nothing going on between us.”

That ship has sailed. You know it has when you walked in and saw his engagement pictures hanging on the wall.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I’m sure he would’ve figured out that I’d be with you,” you tell him with a frown.

“I just wanted to help her, hyung,” Taehyung adds as he stands behind you. “I worry about her too. That guy gives me and Tan a bad feeling.”

Yoongi sighs. “Listen, I don’t think this is a good idea either. You shouldn’t stay with Taehyung. It’ll just make things look a lot worse.”

“I guess you’re right,” you reluctantly agree. Taehyung grimaces, but he can see Yoongi’s point too.

“I’ll pick you up after my shift. You can stay with me until you’re ready to talk to Jungkook,” Yoongi tells you, looking rather serious. “Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime, okay?”

Hey. It’s Jungkook.

You stare at the message on your phone. Three dots that indicate that he’s typing something, but he keeps erasing and re-typing them again. As if he’s trying to properly convey his words.

Are we breaking up?

You stare at that message even longer. It feels childish to break up with him without trying to talk to him. For the first time in a week, you pick up your phone and type back.

You scared me, Kook.

His response is immediate.

I thought you weren’t scared of anything.

You huff when you realize he’s teasing you, even now.

Movie-wise, I’m not. But this. This is different, Kook. You were really scaring me.

Again, you see the dots appear and disappear before a handful of responses appear.

I know, babe. I’m sorry. Can you please come over? I want to show you something I’ve been working on.

You think about it.

I miss you. Bam misses you too.

Yoongi said not to do anything stupid.

Please, baby. We can just watch a movie, if you want.

But, like in every horror movie, the protagonist finds themselves making a plethora of stupid decisions.

Okay, Kook. I’ll come tonight.

Movie nights with Jungkook was one of the things you always looked forward to throughout the week. Nothing appealed to you more than a night-in with your boyfriend, food delivered at your door, and checking out new shows and movies.

You have your list of favorites, but nothing quite holds a place in your heart than a good ol’ horror movie. Tellings of urban legends, supernatural forces, paranormal activities, true crime, and slasher films. 

As you step into Jungkook’s house, it almost feels like you’re in one of those movies.

His place is dark, almost pitched black. You could barely see what’s in front of you.

“Come inside,” Jungkook says, grabbing your hand. He pulls you in and deadbolts the door behind you.

“It’s so dark,” you remark, gingerly stepping forward. You have a bad feeling about this. You almost pull back toward the door, thinking of waiting for Yoongi or going back to Taehyung instead.

But Jungkook has a firm grip on you. “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything.”

“This is different, Kook,” you try to reason. “You’re really freaking me out.”

He pulls you further inside. In the living room, nothing but the TV is on. The screen is paused on a homemade film.

This must be the project that Jungkook is talking about.

Everything is set. The living room is clean, a bowl of popcorn and a couple bottles of alcohol sits on the coffee table, the lights are off, and the show is ready to play. He sits you down in the middle and keeps an arm around you.

“You know, when we met, you were exactly what I was looking for,” he starts as he presses play.

The tape shows you. Bam lying on your lap as you affectionately pet his face and kiss the top of his head. You, holding Jungkook’s hand and leading him down a busy sidewalk. You, in the kitchen, trying to swat his hand away as he steals your ingredients. You and Jungkook, peering into the camera lens, and your bashful face as he kisses your cheek. 

A smile tugs on your lips as you watch yourself on the screen. Jungkook leans over, copying his onscreen self and kisses your face.

One thing you liked about filming is seeing things from a different perspective. In this case, seeing yourself through Jungkook’s eyes. You look so happy, so incredibly in love with him.

Like with Taehyung, you fell for Jungkook hard and fast.

But Jungkook fell for you harder and faster.

Your smile fades as the next scene shows.

The camera points to the bed, and a couple walks in. It’s you and Jungkook, stumbling in together after drinks at a bar. You’re laughing and trying to wrap your arms around him as he leads you onto the bed. The kiss you share is messy, heated. You tug off his clothes to feel more of him.

You remember that night, but…

“Jungkook. When did you record this?”

You had no idea he was filming you then.

You don’t realize it then, but he makes eye contact with the camera, as if to check that it’s on. He maneuvers you to get a good angle of your body as you busy yourself with your own clothes, wanting him to touch you more as well.

“Jungkook, stop. I didn’t—” 

You feel so sick to your stomach.

“Don’t cry, baby. Here, I’ll fast-forward.”

But you don’t want to watch anymore. You want to leave. You shouldn’t have come here.

The screen shows you and Yoongi. The two of you are at the bakery he works at, and you’re wearing an old cardigan that you got rid of . You smile and eagerly reach for one of the coffees in his hands and take the bag of cookies he’s holding between his lips. He rolls his eyes at something you say before he takes his first sip of his Iced Americano. It’s a typical hangout between you and him.

It looks like it was taken across the street. Your heart plummets even further when you realize that the old cardigan you’re wearing was a piece of clothing you got rid of before you met Jungkook.

The scene changes. You’re sitting at the fountain at your university, looking over a script you wrote for an assignment. Taehyung comes to take a seat next to you. He greets you with a boxy smile and a kiss. The two of you were still dating at the time.

How long has Jungkook known about you?

How long has he been targeting you?

It’s you and Taehyung again. This time, it was filmed from the other night. When Taehyung came to pick you up from your house. He helps you carry some of your things into his car and hugs you when he sees the distressed look on your face. 

“Jungkook, what the fuck?”

It dawns on you that you don’t really know your boyfriend at all.

You try to stand up, but Jungkook has a firm hold on you. His grip tightens when you try to resist him, and his hand seizes your neck as he pushes you down. Your heart hammers against your ribs when you quickly realize you can’t escape him. Jungkook is much stronger and faster than you are.

More images flash through the screen. It’s Jungkook this time, taking a mirror-selfie of himself dressed in all black. He has his hood up and a Halloween mask covering his face. 

It cuts to his feet walking across the sidewalk. Carefully, the camera tilts up, showing that there’s a woman just ahead of him. She’s about your height, her hair the same as yours. She doesn’t notice him as she listens to music playing in her earbuds. 

The scene cuts again, and the same woman is bound and gagged on a chair. Fear shines through her eyes as a shadow of a knife reflects from her body. Behind the camera, Jungkook demands, “Say your line.”

He removes the gag from her mouth. Her voice pitches in a high shrill as she quickly says, “I-I love you. I won’t leave you.”

You recognize her as the latest victim of the latest killings.

And the realization hits you like a truck. Jungkook and his night shifts, the increasing deaths, his interest in filming, having you as the star.

“I practiced, you know. I’ll get it right this time,” he tells you, pulling out some rope he had hidden behind the cushion. You’re trembling as he wraps them tightly around your wrist. “I’ll make sure you don’t leave me again.”

“You’re so bad,” the Jungkook on the screen says, showing what looks like an abandoned warehouse. It’s dimly lit, but you can hear someone running from him. But he doesn’t seem worried, his heavy footsteps casually echo across the concrete. In his hand is a sharp and bloody knife. Mockingly, he asks, “Where did you think you’d go?”

The victim has been let go, but she isn’t free. Ahead, she finds herself cornered as Jungkook catches up to her. Terrified, she holds her hands out in front of her, as if that would stop him.

It’s like seeing your own fate on the screen.

The woman begs and screams before her blood splatters across the floor. You find yourself quoting her, staring up at his darkened eyes. “No, please. Don’t hurt me.”

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, staring right at you. His mouth twitches, fighting a smile. “I thought you liked horror movies.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ f1 masterlist

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... 𝐢'𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

✩ : as the 2024 season comes to an end, so does the time you have left to finally confess your feelings to carlos

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : carlos sainz

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : pure A N G S T

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1,7k

✍︎ : i'm SO SORRY it took me this long to write, but i was literally swamped with school work and i had no time to do anything. anyway, i hope you like it because i put my soul and tears into it (i'll probably write some cute christmas themed one-shots to recover from this, don't worry 🙃).

enjoy! 🩷❤️

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Wrong.

If you had to use any word to describe the situation you found yourself in, it would’ve been wrong.

Everything felt out of place: the laughs, the chattering, even the clinking of champagne glasses. It was all too loud, almost as if everyone was trying to fill the void that loomed in the air.

Though, now that you thought about it, ‘fake’ actually fit the scene better. To your ears, the jokes that rang across the motorhome were nothing but a lame attempt to lighten up the mood, every word sounding empty and meaningless. Each one of the persons crowding the room were just actors playing their part in a show they’d been rehearsing for months, and between them stood the main character, the best liar of them all.

Carlos had been smiling the entire night, going along with the setup for some reason that your brain really couldn’t seem to grasp. What was the point of celebrating his departure, even worse when the people he was hugging with such warmth were the same ones who’d dropped him from the team to replace him?

As for you, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him: every time you did, you caught the flicker of hurt hiding behind the forced grin he'd carefully plastered on his face, the sight making you feel sick to your stomach.

To be honest, you didn’t try to approach him at all, the mere thought of confronting him keeping you away. What was the point, anyway? He was leaving Ferrari, and nothing you might say or do could ever change that.

You hated it. You hated that you had to stand there and watch him leave, you hated the team for making him, you hated yourself and how powerless you felt, you hated Carlos… especially the way you didn’t hate him at all.

It wasn’t something you’d planned: it just happened. Somewhere between the race debriefs, the jokes, and even the fights, you’d inevitably fell for him. What a shame you were only realizing it now.

You avoided him all night, slipping into the shadows every time he came too close or tried to approach you, ignoring the pang of guilt that hit you when you saw the half-smile he flashed falter. His eyes were questioning, almost pleading, burning holes right through you as you turned your back to him once again. You told yourself that was the only way you could survive the “party”… or so you thought.

You knew it was coming, and yet when the lights dimmed and your teammates’ voices lowered to whispers your heart dropped to your stomach, all the noise from before replaced by a piercing ringing in your ears.

The video.

The wide screen suddenly lit up, its brightness almost blinding in the dark room, the clips playing out on it in quick flashes: Carlos’ first podiums, his maiden victory with Ferrari, the celebrations with the team and the Tifosi, the challenges with Charles… each one of them was a dagger to the chest which twisted in a wound that had been bleeding for months now.

The motorhome had fallen silent, the stillness interrupted from time to time by a choked laugh or a quiet sniffle that echoed like gunshots. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, unable to look at the taped moments without your sight getting blurry, forcing yourself not to let it wander over the faces that surrounded you—until you eventually did, and that was the worst mistake of your life.

Carlos’ eyes were glistening under the violent screen lighting, puffy and bloodshot from the tears he’d clearly already shed, which stained his cheeks and slightly parted mouth.

The walls started closing in on you, your breath coming out in shallow gasps as you felt a lump tightening your throat, panic rising in your chest. You couldn’t see him like that.

You should’ve stayed. For him. You should’ve been close and hugged him, like everyone else was doing now that the video had ended, but you couldn’t.

So you ran like a coward.

You stumbled back, bumping into people that you didn’t really see, mumbling weak ‘Sorry’ in their direction, until a hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks.

“Where are you going?” He put it as a question, but the concern in his tone made it sound more like a warning, almost as if he already knew the answer.

“Let me go. Please,” you breathed out, the words painfully scratching your throat as you let them out. He didn’t budge. “Charles–”

“No, listen to me,” he said firmly, his hold tightening slightly more to prevent you from getting away. “He needs us. All of us.” He searched your eyes with his, a quiet request in them: we have to be strong for him.

“He doesn’t need me. Not like this,” you muttered, shame washing over you as you shrugged his hand off and finally reached the door, rushing outside like your life depended on it.

It was pouring, but you couldn’t care less; in fact, the cool raindrops were soothing against your burning skin, their sound drowning out the thoughts that had been running through your mind relentlessly all night.

You didn’t hear his steps, either.

“Why are you out here?” Carlos’ voice cut through the storm like a knife, and you froze. He’d followed you.

You didn’t turn around. Instead, you swallowed back the tears you hadn’t even noticed had started streaming down your face, mixed with the rain that soaked through your clothes. “Go back inside. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“I don’t care,” he shot back harshly, maybe more than he intended to, because he quickly added: “Why are you acting like this? Did I do something?”

“No,” you replied flatly, the genuine confusion in his tone making it harder to keep yours steady. “I just needed some air.”

“So what, you just left without saying anything?” He stepped closer, frustration bleeding through his words.

“It’s your party, Carlos, not mine. And it’s not that deep.”

“Not that–do you hear yourself? This ‘party’ is my last one here at Ferrari; we’re supposed to say goodbye.” His voice cracked, followed shortly after by the walls you were struggling to keep up.

“I’m sure there are plenty of people in there who are dying to say–”

“Dios mío, do you even care that I’m leaving?” he spit out, the venom in his words hitting you like a slap right in the face. “Of course I care–” “Then look at me! Please, at least look at me.” He was so close now that you could feel his shaky breaths ruffling your hair, his warmth inches away from you, so familiar and yet so distant.

Slowly, you turned around, your vision blurry as you took in the sight of him: he was completely drenched in rain, the fireproof he was still wearing from the race clinging to his body, his usually perfect hair sticking to his forehead, and he looked so effortlessly handsome it made your heart ache.

“And now?” You let out a bitter laugh that sounded more like a sob. “What do you expect me to say? That I’m happy for you? Because if that’s it, I’m sorry but I’m not. I don’t care if I sound selfish, and if that makes me a horrible teammate then be it, but at least I’m not a fake friend like half of the people in there. So yes, Carlos, I care, I care so much that I couldn’t stay inside and watch you act like you didn’t.” The words had spilled out of your mouth before you could stop them, leaving you breathless once you came to a halt.

Carlos blinked a few times, taken aback by your sudden outburst. Then, what you’d actually said clicked in his mind.

“I don’t care? You’re the one who’s been avoiding me all night–”

“Carlos, stop,” you choked out, tears welling up in your eyes once again at his sharp tone.

“No,” he said, firmly. “Not until you tell me what’s really going on.”

“It’s not that simple, okay?” Your voice cracked as it raised, trying to outshout both the storm that surrounded you and the one raging inside your chest.

“Then make it simple!” He yelled too, but his words sounded like a cry for help. That made you finally snap.

“I love you, Carlos! Is that simple enough for you? Because for me it’s not. It hurts so fucking much knowing that I can’t do anything anymore, that I’m too late, and it’s… easier this way. Distancing myself, I mean. I prefer walking away from you on my own than having you taken away from me.”

Heavy silence stretched between the two of you after your voice trailed off, your words still lingering in the damp air as you just stared at each other for what felt like ages.

“Say something, please.” You were the one begging now, his numbness worse than any sentence you’d heard tonight. “Shout, scream, just–”

He didn’t let you finish, his lips finding yours in a desperate, urgent kiss that tasted like tears and regrets. You poured every ounce of you into it, your hands roaming over each other and pulling you impossibly closer, almost as if you wanted to melt together and become a whole, so that nothing could ever separate you anymore.

When you parted, he pressed his mouth to your forehead, his hands cradling your face like you were the most delicate and precious porcelain doll in the world and he was afraid he might break you; too bad he already had.

“I love you,” he then whispered against your wet skin, before letting his lips fall to your right cheek. “And I’ll miss you…” he pressed a kiss on it, then moved to the other. “… so much,” he left a third one, capturing the single tear that had escaped your eye.

“I’ll miss you, too,” you breathed out, words getting lost in the howling wind.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms as the rain soaked you both, washing away the tears that silently strolled down your face, and with them the promise of a future that ended before it even started.

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©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[astrophileous]

hi! is there any chance you could write a scenario for spencer with a plus sized reader? love your writing! congrats on the milestone and happy birthday month ���

tyyy so much anon 🥺❤️ I hope you're happy with how this turned out 💞

Warning(s): fem!plus-sized!reader; I legit think there's no warning for this. not even swearing. but pls lmk???

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Spencer looked down when he felt you shuffle against him. "Cold?"

The two of you were lounging on the couch with Spencer sitting on one of its end and your head leaning on his chest. Your legs were curled up on the cushion underneath a tiny blanket, the flimsy material barely doing anything as you pressed yourself even closer towards your boyfriend, trying to chase the warmth from his body heat to combat the chill running down your spine. Spencer noticed what you were trying to do and instantly tugged at the other blanket on his lap, laying the material gently around you and smiling when he heard you sigh in appreciation.

"What about you, Spence?"

"I'll be fine. I run hot."

"Mmh. Can't argue with that."

Spencer squeezed your thigh in response to your cheeky remark, your whole body shaking in laughter before you focused your attention back on the TV screen ahead.

It was a rarity for Spencer to find himself home safely at 8 o'clock on a Friday night, not to mention to have you home at the same time as him instead of at the ER tending to patients. On nights like this, Spencer made sure to always cherish the time with you in whatever way you liked, even if it meant he had to sit through nearly five hours of a Hallmark movie marathon after stuffing his stomach full with greasy Chinese takeouts.

The man was head over heels in love with you, and he would do just about anything to keep that mesmerizing smile permanently on your face.

"That's adorable," you said breathlessly after a few minutes of silence.

Spencer didn't want to admit that he had just spent the last ten minutes getting absolutely gobsmacked by your beauty, so he quickly tore his gaze away and directed it back towards the TV screen. His confusion only tripled in size when he saw that nothing particularly stood out from the scene. It was just another shot of the two main characters having yet another one of their silly little arguments as a cheesy jingle played in the background.

"What is happening?" Spencer asked at last.

You glanced at his question and scoffed. "You weren't paying attention again, were you?"

Spencer had the audacity to grin, and it was pretty lucky of him to have been blessed with such a pretty face that could melt even the hardest ice around your heart.

"Okay, handsome. Listen carefully. So, what happened is, the girl—"

"Bess?"

"Yes, Bess. Well, she and Aidan decided to meet for lunch to talk about the deed to the land, right? But that talk didn't really lead anywhere as they ended up fighting, again, and Bess walked away from the restaurant. Aidan ran after her and they fought again on the sidewalk, but then they got interrupted by the rain."

"Of course. The rain. How original."

You hid your bemused smile before continuing, "The two of them ran for cover in this little bookstore after that. Bess was shivering because she was wearing this little black thing, and Aidan noticed. So like the gentleman he is, he took off his suit jacket and gave it to Bess. They both ended up spending a couple of hours in that little bookstore waiting for the rain to stop, and Bess wore Aidan's jacket for the rest of the day. She didn't notice she still had it until she went home in the evening."

Spencer nodded along as he waited for your recount to finish, expecting to find clarity by the end of it only to be met with an even bigger confusion than before.

"I still don't get it. You thought that it was adorable that... they got caught in the rain?"

"And they call you a genius?" you teased, shrieking when Spencer lunged forward to tickle your sides. "No, silly. Not the rain. The jacket."

"The jacket?"

"Yeah. I think it's nice." You smiled, your eyes crinkling as you turned back towards the TV. "I've always loved that. When the guy gives something of his for the girl to wear. His T-shirt, his jacket, his sweater. Anything. The girl would wear his clothes and they'd usually look too big on her and it all just feels so... domestic. There's a sense of belonging in the gesture itself, sort of a non-verbal way of him claiming the girl as his. A little territorial, perhaps. But I personally find the whole thing adorable."

After he was done hearing your explanation, Spencer found himself at loss for words. "I didn't know that. That's actually a thing?"

"It's a pretty common trope in romance books and movies. One of my favorites, too."

"And you like that? Having your boyfriend lend you his clothes to wear?"

"Well, I don't know. I, uh, I actually never tried it myself." You suddenly grew bashful as you started playing with the hem of your pajamas top. "Everyone I've dated has always been smaller than me, so I never got the chance to experience any of that."

"Sweetheart—"

"Relax, Spencer. It's fine," you assured him. "I'm not sad about it. Do I feel like missing out sometimes? Yes, maybe, but it's not like it's the end of the world. I'll survive just fine. Promise."

You resumed watching the rest of the movie after that, the short conversation being shoved to the back of your mind as you relished in the final scene of the movie where the guy, finally and inevitably, managed to win over the girl with an arduous chase through the airport concluded by a romantic confession in front of gate 4E.

After movie night on Friday, the following week unraveled in a hectic frenzy for you. The ER where you worked saw a full house nearly every single night, forcing you to take not only one, not two, but three extra shifts in a single week. By the time the next Friday rolled around, you were exhausted beyond belief, collapsing face first into bed as soon as you arrived home without even waiting for Spencer to get back from his week-long case in Idaho.

The following morning, you woke up to a delicious smell coming from the kitchen. You followed the scent in your sleepy haze until you came face to face with your boyfriend standing behind the stove, unruly curls and a handsome smile as he glanced up at the sound of your footsteps. You couldn't even imagine how dishelved you looked in that moment—with dried drool around your lips and pillow imprints on your cheek—but the way Spencer assessed you from the distance, it made you feel as though you were meant to be sculpted as a flawless copy of Aphrodite herself.

"Good morning, gorgeous," your boyfriend greeted as he pushed a plate of pancakes across the counter. "Breakfast?"

The two of you spent the entirety of breakfast telling each other about your respective week while enjoying Spencer's pancakes that, surprisingly, tasted even better than they smelled. After the dishes were washed, Spencer grabbed your hand and started leading you back towards your shared bedroom.

"Come with me for a moment. I wanna show you something," he said.

You trailed after Spencer in curiosity, compliantly fulfilling his order to sit on the bed as he vanished into the ensuite. Three minutes later, Spencer reappeared in front of you, donning a grin so enormous that it nearly distracted you from the foreign pair of clothes he had changed himself into.

"What do you think?" Spencer asked enthusiastically.

"What do I think?"

"Yeah!"

"It's cute, Spencer. Is it new?" Spencer nodded eagerly, confirming your suspicion. "I see. It's kinda... too big for you, don't you think?"

The hoodie Spencer was wearing came in your favorite color, but it hung on his lanky frame almost like a poncho. Spencer still looked good in it, though. You admired his talent to still appear attractive even when he was wearing something that didn't fit him properly.

"I picked out a bigger size on purpose," Spencer revealed, taking off the hoodie before extending it towards you. "Here, try it. I went two sizes above your usual so it should feel roomy."

Your perplexed stare zeroed in on the clothing in Spencer's hand. "Wait. I don't understand. Did you buy this for me?"

"Um, no? Well, technically yes." Spencer rubbed his neck, suddenly turning sheepish as his gaze found your eyes. "Remember last week when you told me about girls borrowing their boyfriends' clothes? And how you never got to experience that? Well, I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I went ahead and ordered this hoodie for myself but in a larger size. That way, you can steal it from me from time to time. Have something of mine you can wear when you want to."

Silence descended into the room in the wake of Spencer's declaration.

His heart was a sonorous thumping inside his chest. Spencer waited for you to say something, but your voice never came. It wasn't until the first sob broke through the quietude did Spencer realize that you were actually crying.

"Sweetheart? Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong?"

The man knelt in front of you in no time, his palm clenching at the side as if he was ready to go into battle to fight whatever or whoever caused the shed tears in your eyes. You lifted your head just enough to see him, smiling shakily when you saw the taut lines above the bridge of his nose.

"I can't believe you bought this hoodie for me," you muttered once your sobs had subsided.

Spencer breathed out a sigh of relief. "That's why you cried? Because I bought you a hoodie?"

"It's not just because of a hoodie, Spence. It's the fact that you cared. You listened to my silly thoughts and you remembered." You brought your hand up to cup his cheek, feeling him melt against the touch. "This is the nicest, most considerate thing anyone has ever done for me."

"That just breaks my heart, gorgeous. You deserve so much more. I'm literally doing the bare minimum."

"No, you're not. You're doing so much. You're doing everything, Spencer."

You kissed him, then. Urgently and vehemently; trying to convey just how intensely your heart felt for him. When you pulled away, Spencer was wearing a big smile undoubtedly identical to your own.

"I love you so much, Spencer. You know that, right?"

Spencer's smile blossomed. In his heart, he sketched the way your face looked in that moment to burn your beauty into the depth of his mind.

"Not as much as I love you, sweetheart."

[ladykailitha]

Sweet Home Indiana Part 3

Shit! I can't believe I forgot to post this this morning! I don't know where my head was, honestly.

I'm reaching a point where I'm running out of plot so I don't think this story is going to be longer than 10 chapters max. A lot of the second half of the movie takes place over months as the main character gets ready to marry the rich bachelor, only for her to find out that her husband signed the divorce papers and she forgot ON HER WEDDING DAY (as in she was informed on her wedding day that she forgot). Which really won't work for this story.

So yeah, I suspect to be finished with this story sooner rather than later.

Eddie does have to do a lot of grovelling but he unfortunately gets worse before he gets better. He's really REALLY dumb in this, okay?

Part 1 Part 2

****

Eddie watched Steve walk away and he gently put the brownie back into the box.

Fuck.

His stomach churned as he swallowed down the bite in his mouth. He had forgotten so much about the man he once swore to love until the end of his days. But he remembered that look of absolute betrayal before the mask dropped.

So Eddie did what he was good at when times got tough, he ran. He was supposed to have been trying to convince Steve to come with him, but he had fucked it up so badly there was no coming back from that.

The worst part is that there had been a few times in the last decade where Eddie could have healed what was between them, that he could have reached out and gotten back in touch. But Eddie had ran each time.

He wouldn’t say each time ended in a rushed marriage, but two of them definitely did.

Eddie would think about reaching out only to hear about how well Steve was doing from Dustin or Max and how happy he was and Eddie would run out a marry the first guy who would fuck him.

The other times he would think about contacting Steve and some small trouble (or not so small in the case of his band breaking up) would crop up and he be scrambling to keep his head above water.

Steve was thriving here in Hawkins and wasn’t that just a kick to the head. He had a little bakery that was doing well, Robin was here, and if all the times the kids called Eddie were any indication, Steve was still on speaking terms with all of them.

He needed a fucking drink. He didn’t care that it was only a little after noon, he needed to turn off his brain. He turned on his heel and stormed out of the bakery.

“I thought I recognized the van,” a warm voice said. “Were you gonna tell me you were in town?”

Eddie looked around before he spotted his Uncle Wayne, leaning up against the side of the building.

“Wayne!” he cried and threw his arms around his neck.

Wayne hugged him back. “It’s good to see you kid.”

“Of course I was going to tell you I was in town,” Eddie scoffed. “I was just trying to take care of something first.”

Wayne looked behind him at the bakery and raised an eyebrow. “You coming back to make an honest man out him or are you setting to break his heart?”

“Why are you on his side?” Eddie whined. “Yes, I said some pretty stupid shit, but he wasn’t blameless in all the fuckery that went down.”

Wayne’s expression softened. “I know.” He put his arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch and we can talk about why you’re in town.”

“Mmk,” Eddie said weakly, letting Wayne lead him down the street to the nearby diner.

****

Steve was hyperventilating. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t strong enough. Eddie Munson was the biggest asshole in the world and he still looked like sex on legs.

That funny little lopping walk he did when he wanted to move fast but didn’t want to run.

The long hair in waves around his face. His lean body stuffed into the tightest pair of jeans Steve had ever seen and he used to wear tight jeans for fuck’s sake. The god damn eyeliner on his big doe eyes.

And peaking out of the leather jacket were even more tattoos. Which it made sense considering he was some hot shot tattoo artist up in Seattle. But still! It wasn’t fair that the man who broke his heart wasn’t fat and balding at thirty. Nooooo...he had to come back to blue his balls as well as break his heart.

“Do I need to break his balls?” Robin asked coming back from the freezer. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. Not at Steve specifically, but glared at the situation in general.

Steve gave a kind of hiccuping laugh and his lungs filled with the air he desperately needed.

“No,” he said with a broken smile. “I handled it. I’m just going to send it to Hal to make sure he’s not trying to take me to the cleaners or some other bullshit.”

Robin nodded. Hal Peterson was their business attorney, but he’d know enough to make sure Steve wasn’t being shafted by the whole ordeal.

“So what’s got you around the twist?” she asked.

“He looks hotter now than he did before he left,” Steve whined. “He’s supposed to balding and fat and falling apart at the seams. But no...he’s leaner, still with those long ridiculous curls, and better put together than I was.” He waved a hand at himself. His hair was greasy from standing around a hot oven, his hands and apron were covered in flour, he had frosting on his nose.

Robin came over and gave him a hug. He wrapped his arms around her and he let out a little sob.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” she murmured. “Are you going to be okay?”

He let out a shuddering sigh. ��Probably not until he blows out of town again.”

Robin kissed the top of his head. “Let’s go out to the Hideout tonight. The shop will be fine. We handled today, we can handle tomorrow, too.”

Steve let out a shuddering sigh and nodded into her stomach.

“Good,” she stepped back and cupped his cheeks. “I know this sucks but you are the strongest, most capable person I’ve ever met. A weaker man would crumble under all this, but that person is not you. You understand me?”

He let out another shuddering sigh. “Thanks, Robs. I needed that.”

“I know you did, dingus,” she said fondly. “So lets knock today out of the ballpark, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

****

“I was hoping,” Eddie was telling Wayne, “that I could roll into town, get him to sign the divorce papers, and spend the rest of the week with you. But no, he’s being a stubborn ass.”

Wayne snorted. “You always did aim too high.”

“I thought he’d want to be rid of me,” Eddie huffed. “I’ve done nothing but run around all over this god forsaken country just to put some distance between me and him. I’ve hurt him in every possible way. I thought he was just wanting closure you know, calling me into town like he did.”

Wayne furrowed his brow. “He called you into to town?”

Eddie nodded and placed his chin on his hands on the table. “I was a bit of an ass about it because I didn’t explain things to Chrissy, but yeah. He told me that if I wanted to divorce him so bad, I’d have to come back to Hawkins and do the job proper.”

The waitress came set Wayne’s food down and Eddie sat up so she could do the same for him.

Wayne waited until she was gone before he turned back to Eddie. “When you told me you were marrying Chrissy, I was more than a little surprised.”

Eddie rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I know. I have my reasons, I just can’t tell you yet. But I promise it’s for a good reason.”

“He’s done really well for himself here,” Wayne said softly.

“And I haven’t?” Eddie spat out a tad too bitterly.

Wayne scowled. “Did I say you hadn’t, boy?” he snapped.

Eddie’s head reared back from the shock of his normally mild mannered uncle to snap at him. He shook his head, his lip beginning to quiver.

“I’m on your side,” Wayne said, to Eddie’s scoff. “I know I keep hyping up Steve, but I remember what you two were like when things were good, son. You were incandescent. But I look at you now and that sparkle has gone. I want to be happy for you, but first you’ve got to show me that you’re happy for yourself.”

“You don’t think I’m happy?” Eddie asked in confusion. “I have my own tattoo shop, I’m going to marry a great girl, and I’m still friends with most of the members of my band. What’s not to be happy about?”

Wayne shrugged. “You tell me.”

Eddie frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, old man.”

Wayne dug his thumbs into his belt and licked his top lip nice and slow. Eddie ignored him and just stabbed at his food.

“Kiddo,” Wayne said, shaking his head, “you’re still in love with that boy even with these ten years gone.” His chin jutted up to point to Eddie’s food.

Eddie froze with his fork half way to his mouth and then looked down at his plate. It took him a full minute to realize what Wayne was talking about.

“Oh.”

He had ordered the breakfast platter. It had hash browns, scrambled eggs, ham, bacon, and sausage with a side of chocolate chip pancakes. But Eddie didn’t like hash browns or sausage. He would give them to Steve who did.

He thought about the little box that was sat next to him on the bench and the brownie Steve had concocted for him so long ago.

Eddie swallowed thickly, his stomach turning sour as he stared at the hash browns and sausage he was never going to eat.

“Eat up,” Wayne said with a soft smile. “You don’t want it to go to waste.” He scooped up the hash browns and put them on his plate and then stabbed both sausage.

He dipped the first sausage into his over easy eggs, ignoring Eddie’s turmoil. At least for the moment.

Eddie brought the fork all the way to his mouth and chewed, not really tasting it.

He ate through most of the food that way, until it came to the pancakes. He moaned happily.

“Seattle just doesn’t make pancakes the way Benny does,” he said softly.

Wayne’s smile was no less tender this time, but infinitely more fond. “You could always come back to Hawkins. You can set up a tattoo shop anywhere, so why not here?”

Eddie shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that to Steve. Divorce his ass and then move back into town with Chrissy in tow, shoving it in his face that I moved on.”

“I can see that,” Wayne murmured. “I just miss my boy is all and would love to see you more often than I get.”

Eddie took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I know you do. And I would like you to meet Chrissy before the wedding.”

“I’d like that too.”

****

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Tag List:

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

2- @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

3- @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

4- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

5- @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

6- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

7- @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

8- @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @blackpanzy

9- @amazing-spiderkeys @oldpinghai @raisedbylibrarians @kultiras @swimmingbirdrunningrock

10- @steddie-as-they-go @captain--low @micheledawn1975 @thespaceantwhowrites @mac-attack19

[deansapplepie]

Till THE DEAD do us part | Chapter 1

A/N: This story will take place in all the seasons, but it’s not exactly a rewriting cause I’d have to re-watch everything to use the exactly lines of the characters, also I think it’s better if I tell a side story without changing the main facts of the story. I’m not good with synopses, so sorry about that.

This story has a Female Reader, but I don’t describe her appearance, so anyone can identify with her.

Summary: Y/N Grimes is Rick’s younger sister, when the world ended she had Lori, Carl and Shane. But did she really have them? Her brother was dead, her sister-in-law was sleeping with her brother’s best friend and her nephew was just a small kid. She had him, Daryl Dixon was no knight in a shining armor and she was no damsel in distress, but maybe they were exactly what each other needed.

*gif is not mine, credits on the gif.

Chapter 1: Vulnerable

Summary: Y/N sees something she wasn’t supposed to see, she need to vent about it but she can’t do it with Lori or Shane, because they are the main reason about it. So she goes to the woods hoping to find some peace.

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, kinda angsty, a little bit of fluffy, comfort, mentions of death, mentions of violence

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader

Word Count: 2,072

Extra notes: I proofread the text, but English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any mistakes, of course with a lot of love.

Chapter 2

It was again one more boiling hot day in the Quarry near Atlanta, you thought the temperature would for sure kill you, but there was another thing threatening to take your life and it wasn’t a Zombie.

Before everything, before the world ended, life wasn’t easy. You wanted it to be, but you were living one of the worst moments of your life. You had just lost your job as a vet because you couldn’t save a rich man’s cat and he demanded that you were fired. You felt bad for the poor cat, for your lost job, for your name as a professional that was now forever marked and also for your dog a female German Shepherd called Luna that had to see you not acting like your usual self.

On top of that your older brother, Rick, got shot working… he was a Sheriff’s Deputy. That’s what made you stop feeling sorry for yourself, because you couldn’t. You needed to see your brother laying on a hospital bed in comma, you had to hold things together and take care of Carl and Lori.

Lori and Carl had you, but you had no one, Carl was just a kid and Lori couldn’t even take care of herself at the moment. There was Shane, he was like a brother to you, but even with him there… it was as if you were alone. You just had Luna.

You went to their house and stayed there, you were going to stay until Rick got better, yes, he was going to get better and you would stay just a little bit more to help during his recovery, and everything was going to be fine again. But it never was. The world ended. The dead were walking as if they were alive and Rick died.

Now you lived in a Quarry with Lori, Carl, Shane and a bunch of other survivors. Most of people were pleasant and easy to live with, the exception was Ed, Carol’s husband and Merle Dixon, Daryl’s brother, but this was the apocalypse and you don’t have much choice on the people that are going to be around you.

It had been almost two months since everything happened and the camp was created, almost two months your brother had died… and today, while you were picking some wood, you saw something that felt as if someone was pulling your guts out of your stomach and squeezing your heart.

Lori and Shane. Not Lori and Shane friendly doing what they usually do, they were in the middle of the forest, fucking, and there was no other word you’d use to describe it other than fucking. There wasn’t even two months Rick died, and his best friend and wife were fucking.

You felt nauseated, you went back the same direction you came and knew you had to do something to calm down. You couldn’t afford causing an scene or any uncomfortable situation, you could not hurt Carl.

“Hey! Aunt Y/N, did you already pick all the woods?” Carl shouted to you from the spot he was, playing with Sophia and Luna, Carol watching them.

“Er… wood wasn’t good that side, I’m going to the other side see if I find anything better.” You gave a lame excuse, you just wanted to be alone, cry all this shit out, in silence cause you didn’t want anyone to know and you didn’t want to attract any walkers near the camp.

“Can you look after them a little more, Carol?” You asked the woman, you were sure she was not going to say no, she loved being with the kids and even with Luna.

“Sure, don’t worry.” She said, you nodded and then walked to the opposite side from where you came the fastest as possible, looking down so others wouldn’t see you had started to cry.

You walked until you found a place far enough so no one would find you, but not so far that you would have any trouble. You had a gun and knife, you knew how to defend yourself, but you couldn’t make it easy to the dead to kill you, you were not that dumb.

You sat behind a tree, brought your knees to your chest and hid your face crying. Your thoughts were racing and all you could think was about what you saw, your brother and how you missed him. You listened to some light leaves hustle, but You didn’t give it importance, thinking it was probably the wind, it was so light that it couldn’t be a walker. So you continued minding your own business crying what you had to cry so you could look at your sister-in-law’s face without letting her know how upset you were.

“Ya shouldn’t be out here vulnerable like that” you jumped startled by the redneck’s voice. ‘So that was him,’ you thought, ‘of course, only he could walk with light steps, he was a hunter after all.’ You wiped your tears, not that it would help they were still falling and there wasn’t anything you could do to stop them.

“I’m not vulnerable, I just needed some time alone.” You answered, he was really trying to not be too rough on you given to your situation, but his lack of tact was something he had much difficulty to overcome.

“Ya could cry in your tent, it’s safer”

“I don’t wanna Carl and Lori to see me cry. I don’t wanna have to explain myself, things would get bad if I had to. I don’t wanna upset Carl.” You sniffed, that was one of the worst parts of crying, getting a damn runny nose.

“Shane can’t help?” He asked, you didn’t know but he probably already had some idea of the reason you were crying.

“He’s part of the problem Dixon, if I could I’d punch him and kick his balls” you answered, tears still running down but a little bit calmer.

“Did ya see him and…” he didn’t finish the question, because you completed it for him.

“Lori? Yeah”

Talking about them made you remember everything you saw and how it hurt you. You were still mourning Rick, and Shane and Lori apparently were already moving on. What hurt the most is that even mad at both of them, you still loved them. Lori was like a big sister, a sister that you wish you had while growing up, and Shane? He was your brother he taught you how to defend yourself, he gave you shooting classes, he brought you home the first time you got drunk and even took care of you while you were hangover. When Rick wasn’t there, he was. At this moment you hated him as much as you loved him.

“Do you know if anyone else know about them?” You asked after a long time, you were so lost that you didn’t even noticed that Daryl walked a bit ahead and stoped with his back turned to you. He wanted to give you privacy to cry, but he also couldn’t leave you behind, it was dangerous to you staying so vulnerable at the forest. He knew you could defend yourself, but you didn’t even listened him approaching, you sure were not going to listen to a walker too.

“I don’t know. Probably not. I’m much into the woods, so I caught them a few times.” He answered at distance, not turning to look back at you. “Do ya like him?” Daryl asked and right after he just regretted having opened his mouth, why would he ask such an intimate thing to you? He should just stay there and make sure you’d go back alive to the camp.

“Ew! No! He’s like a brother to me. We grew up together.” You answered disgusted to the idea of liking Shane any other way. “It’s not that. My brother, he died. Well, you probably know. And I know Lori needs to continue living and they are adults, but there’s not even 2 months and she moved on that fast and Shane… he was his best friend. I’m still mourning him, the world still doesn’t make any sense without him here and they are already fucking. I know I’m being selfish and emotional but…” you spoke so much that you had already lost your line of thought. Daryl was probably tired of you, he wasn’t one to talk much, but here you were opening all your thoughts to him.

“It’s about yer brother. Ya have the right to feel.” He understood, he had never lost his brother and he hoped he’d not lose him anytime soon. Merle was a dick, and he made him mad most of the time, but he was his brother, so he understood you.

You wiped your tears, calmer and ready to continue. You were still mad and sad about everything, but now you didn’t feel like you were going to die anymore, you were not suffocated. You got up, shook the dirt from your pants and approached the archer.

“I was going to take some wood for fire. I don’t want to go back empty handed. Can you help me?” Now you gave a look at him, and noticed he had some rabbits and squirrels hanging from a rope. He was being essential to maintain everyone fed, he was not one to be socializing around the camp, but he was good and you could see it.

He just nodded and started walking by your side collecting the good woods he found along the way. “Thank you.” You said collecting a branch that you saw.

“For what? I didn’t even take the woods to the camp.” Did he not understand or was he faking?

“Not about the woods. Well, that too… but thank you for staying with me and talk to me, you didn’t have to” ‘but you did’, you completed in your thoughts. “Also, thank you for always bringing us food. I don’t know if I ever told you that.” He grunted, sometimes you wish you could know what he was thinking, you never knew if his grunts mean something good or bad.

“No need to thank me” he never knew how to react at moments like that. Should he say thanks back? Should he give another compliment?

Soon you returned to the camp, he helped you put the woods near the makeshift kitchen and was going to clean the rabbits and squirrels so they could be cooked.

“Luna likes you” you said, you saw how your dog acted around him. He was a little surprised with the comment. “You can take her with you when you want, I see that you like her too.” You smiled, a beautiful one just as if you were not broken or had cried your soul an hour ago.

“She likes my food too” he joked, it was not intentional but after what he said he even got a little smile at the corner of his mouth for some seconds. You giggled before answering.

“I know, she makes the cutest puppy eyes. It’s not her fault if you can’t resist her charms.” He snorted and for some seconds, just few seconds, he thought that maybe she wasn’t the only one he couldn’t resist. As he went to clean the hunt, you went to Carol to say you got the wood and offer to take care of the kids while she started to prepare the food.

You couldn’t take that smile from your face and you didn’t were sure why, you ruffled Luna’s fur while you sat close to the kids and released the dog so she could run around a little. You hated having to let her tied, but you were too afraid of what could happen if she went too far. She ran around the camp and soon approached the archer he pet her and she made her happy tail dance to him, he looked in your direction and you smiled watching their interaction. Your day wasn’t lost, there was still good things to be grateful for, even in a world like this.

Final notes: Please tell me your thoughts. There is a long time I don’t write and publish fanfiction in English so I’d be glad to hear from you.

[searchingforgravity]

Graceland Experience - PART 6

Fandom: Elvis/Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Elvis takes you for a drive and ask you questions you aren't prepared to answer. Then you overhear a conversation that could ruin everything.

TW: Implication of sexual activity

Word Count: 1212

A/N: Some things start to unravel at the end of this chapter, the reader has to think fast to figure out what to do next.

"Let's go for a little drive, honey," Elvis says suddenly, looking at you intently from across the table before wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Your stomach sinks. He gives you that same eerie look, like he's trying to pick your brain.

You, Sonny, Jerry and Elvis have all just gotten done eating breakfast and are preparing to get up and go your separate ways. Everyone stops. Elvis briefly glances at his friends.

"What are you guys lookin' at? I'll meet with y'all later. Come on, baby."

He stands up from the table and starts towards the door, a clear signal that you should follow him. Sonny and Jerry hang back while you move to catch up with him. The two of you reach the front door, getting into your shoes in silence.

You risk a glimpse at him. He doesn't look angry, which you suppose is a good sign. He looks deep in thought as his brows are knit together.

---

Elvis turns down a backroad, his thumb drumming on the steering wheel. The radio is off and it is completely silent. The two of you have been driving now, you're guessing, for about ten minutes. In complete silence. Your nerves are shot and you just wish he would say something. As if reading your mind, he finally speaks up.

"Why were you in my room yesterday?"

Your face drains as you look out the window.

Shit. What do you say? You had been so careful. Maybe he's just guessing.

"What do you mean?" You ask, not taking the risk of looking at him.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Play stupid."

You sigh as you look at your hands, your palms already starting to sweat. You look over at him and he looks at you. He still doesn't look angry, which calms you a bit.

"I, uh-" you start, thinking of something to say.

You kick yourself for not thinking of what to say in the event that he had heard you.

"Honey, I'm not mad at ya'. I Just...I know you're lyin' to me. Not just about this."

A shock runs through you.

"How?" you say too quickly.

He glances at you from the corner of his eye before looking back towards the road.

"You're not a good liar."

You pause before asking your next question.

"Does anyone else know?"

He pauses for so long a moment, you're not sure if he heard you.

"I don't think so."

At least that's some good news. Okay. So he knows you're lying to him. He doesn't know the extent, though.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gone in your room. I was...trying to see if you had found me with anything. Like a wallet, so I could remember some more things about myself. I remember my name is (y/n) but that's all."

Does he believe you? He is silent for a long moment, before letting a sigh fall from his lips.

"Alright well, that's somethin' I guess."

You wonder if he's going to ask ask you about the open dresser drawer and when you look at him again, his face is a little flushed.

"And you can uh- forget anything you might've seen in my room," he says rather awkwardly, a question in the inflection of his voice.

"Yes, I didn't see anything, Elvis," you agree, your face burning as you turn your attention to the road.

He nods his head.

"Okay then."

He then finally turns on the radio.

---

You sigh as you crack open Sound of Thunder, sitting on the same chair you sat in the first day you woke up here. You read the first page, the main character preparing to go back in time. You jump ahead to the moment the main character and his group actually go on the journey.

"First a day and then a night and then a day and then a night, then it was day-night-day-night-day. A week, a month, a year, a decade! A.D. 2055. A.D. 2019. 1999! 1957! Gone! The machine roared."

You look up from the book. You aren't sure how well this is going to help. You didn't travel in time by a big machine, it was a couch. You groan in frustration, shutting the book as you place it on the small table in front of you. Standing up, you walk over to the room's window that overlooked the backyard.

You allow your shoulders to relax, realizing just how tense you've been since you got here. Looking out towards the stables, you are surprised when you see Elvis emerge from one, holding the reins of a black horse. Your eyes follow him as he walks out towards the trail where the riding takes place.

You don't realize just how entranced you probably look until you see him turn suddenly, looking up at your window. You gasp as your face burns, instinctively ducking your head so he can't see you, although you're sure he's too far away to see much of anything.

You peek your head back up as he turns from the window, continuing on until he reaches the trail. He holds his horse steady as he sticks one foot in the shoe holder, mounting himself onto the animal. You take a moment to admire his form, the way the pants he's wearing hugs his thighs. How his button-up short sleeved shirt hangs loosely on him. You admire him for as long as you can before he rides out of sight.

You release a breath as you turn from the window, preparing to open the book again to search for more answers. Until you hear Sonny's voice.

"Jerry, what are you talkin' about?"

"I don't know Sonny, I just thought I saw somethin' when we found her. That's all I'm sayin'."

You heart leaps as you stand suddenly frozen, your ears straining to hear the conversation.

"What do you mean, what kind of things?"

"Like a purse, I think there was some stuff in there. Elvis wouldn't let me see what was in it."

Did they know you were up here? Apparently not.

"What, so you're sayin' she's lying or somethin'?"

Jerry hesitates.

"Well, I'm not too sure of that, maybe she really doesn't remember anything. I don't know, I could be wrong. I just know I saw somethin'."

Oh no. No, no, no. You're purse?! If they found you with it, where the hell is it now? And what was in it that Elvis wouldn't let Jerry see?

"Well, maybe Elvis just wants the girl to remember things for herself, you know so she doesn't lie or somethin' to stay longer."

This is a lame excuse, Sonny knows that as well as you. Why is he defending you? Why do you hear a softness in his voice towards you that you hadn't heard before? You decide to think about the meaning of this later, right now you need to stop this conversation.

You quietly rush to the bathroom to distract the men from talking further. Turning on the shower, you hear them come to a hushed conclusion of their talk before you hear footsteps on the stairs.

This is the worst case scenario. So Elvis does have your purse. Why is he hiding it?

You need to talk to him.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Taglist:

@horrorgirl4life @tantamount-treason @peaceloveelvis @sissylittlefeather @father-of-2cats @goldobsessionsworld @elvisalltheway101 @littlehoneyposts @atleastpleasetelephone @ccab @msamarican @presleyhearted

[sunnybyler]

so in light of some convos i’ve had on here today, i started thinking about if i’d be one of the people who would quit the series if the next book isn’t my ship. for reference, i’m an elucien girlie through and through (and i love gwynriel too). and my honest answer is….. maybe?? unfortunately probably, but not because i lost the ship war. oh no, that is something i am VERY acquainted with and can usually stomach. hell, half my ships are pulled out of my ass and never dated. i can lose and accept that and sometimes even learn to like the winning ship. no, my problem would boil down to one thing entirely: lucien vanserra.

lucien is my favorite character in the entire acotar series, has been since we first met him, and even with everyone shitting on his character in the last 4 books i never stopped loving him. and my main problem is this. i cannot fathom a happy ending for him if e/riel is endgame. so my problem isn’t seeing e/riel endgame on its own — even though the bonus chapter gave me the worst ick, i wouldn’t necessarily be FULLY opposed to read their story if lucien wasn’t in the picture. in fact i can see the appeal sometimes, i’ve even dabbled in some fics just for fun. but i just cannot see how sjm could pull that story off without destroying his character, ruining his life, or just straight up killing him. none of which i would ever want to read. (and do not even try and throw vassa at me, lucien’s happy ending is NOT going to be watching yet another of his lovers die). if someone new was introduced and his book was hinted at, i would probably read it honestly. though i cant say i’d be happy about it.

so, essentially what i’m saying is that if lucien is happy, or if it’s implied he will be in the future, i’ll read it. i would certainly not be first in line, i’d let my stronger lucien warriors read it first and decide if it’s too tragic or not. i try to have an open mind about these things despite having my own strong opinions, so i genuinely would try my best to read any acotar book that gets published, even if i lose. but i physically couldn’t make myself read about my favorite character suffering endlessly or turning evil out of nowhere, and that’s why i’m so hesitant to confidently say that i would give the book a shot.

[asterias-record-shop]

Hello, I wanted to ask if your fic requests are still open? Cos I please want to ask for a Finnick Odair x reader involving major character death

So the reader's personality is somewhat similar to Lucy Gray Baird, ( if you have read A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes). Also, I'd like her to be a victor from District 5. Because of her voice, Snow often has her sing at the capitol. She and Finnick often run into each other because of frequently having to be at the capitol, so they develop a relationship and start seeing each other romantically in secret.

Then, she later on joins the rebellion but ends up getting murdered by lizard mutts in the Mockingjay timeline because she chose to sacrifice herself during that mission. So it's the reader who dies instead of Finnick

If you want to skip this request, then that's okay. But thank you, if you'd like to take it.

Also, the one shot would be inspired by the song Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince by Taylor swift

╭════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╮

         — a dream is a wish

╰════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╯

I am so sorry if this is bad, I’ve never been the best at writing angst. Im not proud of it, but i didn’t want to not try :)

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪

Finnick wasn’t sure where you had gotten the song you sang to your son. The Capitol had gotten rid of everything that gave knowledge of the old world, but you sang a song that you had heard from a movie.

“A dream is a wish your heart makes,” you sang, humming continuously as you slowly swayed in your all black tactical gear. He didn’t want you to go, he hated the thought of you going. He just couldn’t get you to stay. “When you’re fast asleep, in your dreams you’ll lose your heartache…”

“Y/N,” Finnick spoke as you smiled back at him. “You… you shouldn’t come.”

You continue to hum, swaying as you slowly set down your son. “Effie said she would watch Alexei. Everything will be fine.”

Finnick shook his head, sighing. “What if… what if something happens? You know we said that someone always stays when we go on missions.”

“Do you think I’d sit this out?” You ask, turning around. “Finnick, nothing will happen, I swear,” you whisper, cupping his face as he leaned down to kiss your wrist. “We said we’d do everything together too, remember? In our vows, we swore.”

“Not when I could lose you,” he whispers, his voice hoarse as he holds your forearm delicately. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” you press a firm kiss to his lips, shaking your head. “I said I’d follow you anywhere and everywhere, remember? No matter what.”

He inhaled shakily, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours. “Please don’t come.”

“I can’t let you go on it alone.” You whispered back, shaking your head. “I won’t. Anywhere and everywhere you go, I’m going.”

Finnick lets his other hand settle on your waist, sighing as he pulls you closer, letting his lips press continuously against your wrist before moving to your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

On the journey there, he held your hand tightly through every step, enjoying your soft singing as you held his hand tightly. He loved that stupid song you sang about dreams, and how his dream was always to start a life with you somewhere safe and secure. He was fighting for that somewhere, and to be honest, he had mixed feelings about fighting it with you.

“I have something important to tell you when we get back,” you say, smiling as you bumped his hip with your own. “I think you’ll be ecstatic.”

He smiled widely, kissing your head. “Anything you say makes me ecstatic.”

As soon as you both went down that tunnel though, he knew something was wrong. You trailed behind him, much to his dismay, mainly because you were the best with firearms and you knew you could protect him.

“Go up first,” Finnick tried to tell you, but you just shook your head. “Y/N, I'm not asking you.”

“Finnick, I’m not going up that latter first,” you say, your usual strong will making his stomach twist. “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Finnick, come on,” Katniss called as you started pushing him up the ladder, tapping his thigh.

“I love you,” you say quickly, smiling as he finally gets up.

Finnick goes to turn around, your scream making him almost fall as he made it to the top. He could barely get out your name when he saw the mutts come out, about to jump down before Katniss yelled into her earpiece.

“No! No, what are you doing?!” Finnick attempted to let go before Katniss grabbed his shoulders and tugged him onto the overhead, the explosion making his heart clench.

His ears were ringing, the wishful thinking of trying to hope that it was fake, that you followed behind him shattered whenever he stared down at nothing.

“What did you do?” He whispers, his voice soft before turning to Katniss. “What did you do?!”

Tears were running down her cheeks as a wail fell from her lips, the only person she ever saw as a friend or an older sister gone.

Finnick refused to believe it, though, already grabbing his trident. “We’re going back down.”

“She’s gone!” Katniss sobbed, running her hands through her hair. “She’s gone, she’s gone…”

Her voice continued to drone on, going into soft whispers as Finnick stared at the hatch.

This wasn’t real.

It wasn’t until he got back to District 13 did everything settle in. Seeing Katniss hold Alexi who was wailing and sobbing, tears in her eyes as she tried to remember the words you always sang so beautifully.

“I don’t… I don’t remember them,” Katniss whispers, thinking back to when you helped calm her down on the beach during the third quarter quell, singing softly as you braided her hair. How could she not remember them?

“I do,” Finnick’s voice was hoarse, his eyebags dark and obvious, a sniffle filling the room as Katniss tried to shake her head.

“You need to go back to sleep-”

“A dream is a wish your heart makes,” he hummed softly, his voice cracked and breaking since he wasn’t much of a singer, but he quickly calmed down at the sound of the lyrics. “When you’re fast asleep, in your dreams you’ll lose your heartache…”

Finnick continued to sing the words that you knew by heart, even if it wasn’t the best, but it still made Alexi calm down. He stared down at Alexi’s eyes which were an exact replica of your own, smiling with tears filling his eyes.

Maybe not all hope was lost, afterall.

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© asterias-record-shop

[aritsukemo]

Our Home | Prologue - The New Assignment! | AssClass

Summary: After another dead end in their current assignment, three assassin siblings are given a new assignment. One more deadly and much more interesting than any mission they've experienced!

Warnings: Reader is referred to with genderfluid pronouns throughout this story, but for this chapter, they're mainly referenced/called using he/him pronouns. That said, any references towards their gender is left purposefully vague as for all to enjoy! Torture scene ahead so possible gore ahead! ( Reader uses their gun as a torture weapon and their captive is shot numerous times ). Codenames are thrown around a lot in this. ( None of the main characters shown this chapter go by their actual names ).

A/N: Hey ya'll! Sorry I went off the radar for a bit..I got sick, heh- 😅 I'm still recovering plus my Thanksgiving break is filled to the brim with me working so anything new after this probably won't come til closer to Thanksgiving Day ( if at all ). On a more positive note, me transferring this old, mainly abandoned fanfic has got me wanting to rewatch Assassination Classroom. Maybe if I get the motivation, I'll actually continue this, who knows..

Tagging: @nursedflowers ( Because I love their commentary ) + Anyone who wants to be tagged! <3

Next Chapter

Third Person Pov, on the 57th floor of Mirai Hotel

 "Oh you're so funny, Mr. Kobayashi! Who knew you could be such a charmer?" A small giggle slips past the woman's cherry red lips as they gently curve upwards. The businessman who's arm she hangs on seemed completely enthralled as his eyes darted from her glossed lips to her chocolate brown hair that was pinned up by a jeweled hairpin.

  "Please, call me Takashi." He says as he brings one of his hands to his hair. The callous skin of his fingers sliding through his sliver locks with ease. The woman nods her head, her smile widening only to drop at the sight of the man's sudden frown.

 "What's wrong?" She asks, but he doesn't respond. She stares at him for a moment, waiting for his response but when he continues to remain silent, she follows his gaze and looks behind them to see her bodyguard dressed down in a black suit and matching sunglasses.

 "Does he bother you?" She whispers, her cool voice sliding into his ear which manages to recapture his attention and makes him finally pull his eyes away from the boy to look at her.

 "Huh?" He blurts out rather dumbfoundedly.

 "Does my bodyguard's presence bother you?" She repeats, her eyes narrowing a bit as she keeps steady eye contact with him. Takashi stiffens. The woman notices and moves her hand to touch his tense shoulders where she gives him a gentle squeeze and a golden smile that deserves one hundred awards.

 "Don't be so nervous. I was simply asking a question," She cooed. Her hands begin to trail upwards, her cold fingertips tickling the skin of his neck as they slide up until they reach his face where they cup the plump of his cheeks.

 "How about we go somewhere? Although this hotel is nice, I'd much prefer to go somewhere more..romantic," She leans against him, her breast jiggling a little as they collide with his chest which doesn't go unnoticed by the older male, "Do you know of any place like that?" 

 He gulps, trying his best to smile off the butterflies in his stomach. Alas, all he managed to do was present her an awkward smile, "Oh, uh.. I- I know a few places.."

 With a mental smirk forming in her head, the woman pulls away, her award-winning smile stretching in glee as she claps her hands, "Excellent! Then let's not waste any time," She moves to stand a little behind him, her smooth, soft hand touching his back and giving him a gentle push. He looks back at her, beginning to raise his eyebrow as she gives him another push.

 "Go on ahead without me and I'll join you in a bit. I need to send him off," She gestures towards her bodyguard, "What I plan to do with you..heh, let's just say it's not something a kid like him should see."

At her comment the wealthy man's entire face flushes, his mind creating all types of scenarios as he nods dumbly and turns, walking away without any further compliants.

 "Don't have too much fun without me!" As the man boards the elevator at the end of the hall, one of his last sights is her side profile. Her sparkling eye, a polished, perfectly stretched smile, a cherry blush painting her porcelain skin, and her hand waving goodbye to him. It's a shame the doors closed before he could wave back..

As soon as those steel doors closed and that waste of space was out of her sights, the woman saw no reason in keeping up her act. As quick as a snap of a finger, her apple colored lips twist into a rotten frown and her smooth skin is wrinkled by her eyebrows as they scrunch to form a deep v. It was like watching a beautiful butterfly transform into an ugly slug.

..But in her bodyguard's eyes, she seemed pretty much the same.

 "Alright, listen up brat. You needa' scram," She snapped, her voice once soft and tender now grating like a knife scratching against a chalkboard, "I originally hired ya' ass because I thought you were decent enough to do ya' job and stay in the background but I seemed to be wrong."

 "Now, if I see you hangin' around me anymore, I'll make sure yer never able to find a job in this country again."

And with that final warning leaving her lips, she resets. Her pretty mask returns and she smiles at the boy. Although to him, her smile seemed rather oily, "Now, a very wealthy man..whatever his name was..is waiting for me right now so I musn't waste anymore time on you," And without so much as a goodbye, she turns on her heel and walks off in the direction of the elevator, completely unaware of her now fired bodyguard's earpiece buzzing to life.

 "Shifting to plan b, you must secure the target's location before pursing any further actions. She's is approximately five meters away and is increasing the distance between you two every fifteen hundred milliseconds."

 "I will disable the elevator shortly after she boards it. Based on my calculations, she will end up on the seventeenth floor in roughly five minutes and fifteen seconds and counting. I trust that you'll be able to descend forty floors in that time."

Oh they'll manage. As he was continuously being fed information, the bodyguard decided that the obvious way down was to take the stairs. Running the opposite way the woman went and taking a sharp left, he wasted no time in grabbing the knob, twisting it, and opening the sliver door that led to the winding staircase. And without so much as a second thought, they jump over the railing and begin their freefall down.

..What? Surprised? Running down all those steps would take too much time and energy. Plus, as long as he doesn't die, this way down should be fine.

Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven.. Second by second he passes by floors until he finally catches a glimpse at the steel plating that reads '20'. He waits for another second to pass before he decides to act, reaching his arms out and grabbing onto the railing.

After let himself dangle for a moment, the bodyguard tightens their grip on the railing, they swing forward then back then forward again, steadily building up momentum until his body eventually swings back enough to flip completely and he's able to swing over the railing, landing silently in front of the door that reads the number '17'. Perfect.

 "As expected, you arrived early. The target will be arriving on the floor in another three minutes and thirty-nine seconds and counting. All the necessary cameras have been disabled and I've already gained access to all of the vacant deluxe rooms on this floor. When the target steps on the floor, the closest room will be '128' however, rooms '131', '133', and '134' can also be used if the situation calls for it."

Opening the door and walking down the hall, the bodyguard leans against a dim corner that gives him the perfect view of the elevator. He then leans back, crosses his arms, and waits.

About two minutes pass and the dinging of the elevator signals to the entire floor that a new visitor has arrived. One that seemed rather confused by her destination.

 "What the hell," She mumbles under her breath, her hand coming up to click the floor button that reads '1', mumbling a slew of curses under her breath when nothing happens.

 "Damnit.. Whatever. I'll just take the stairs," Stepping off the elevator, the woman walks right past her now fired bodyguard as if she never noticed him standing in the corner at all. She walks without a care in the world, her hips swishing left then right then left in a rhythm as she passes each room, completely unaware of the eyes that watch her.

When he's gained a comfortable distance away, the bodyguard straightens his posture and follows after her. His steps slow. Left foot then right foot, then left again, making sure to walk just behind her. His hips begin to sway left then right then left in a rhythm and just like that he's made her presence his own, going completely under her radar with ease.

And just as his unsuspecting prey passes the room with the golden plating that read '134', he strikes. Like a hungry viper ready to feast, he quickens his pace in an instant and closes the distance. Arms snake around her neck and right under chest where they latch on with a tight grip. Her eyes widen but that's the only thing she can manage to do before her body gives in and falls limp. She can't panic, move, or speak. It's like some imaginary poison has entered her system and has managed to immobilize her entire being. What's more is that it spreads to her consciousness, wrapping it's toxin around in a suffocating embrace and causing her to finally slip into complete unconsciousness..

Softness floods the senses, wrapping around the body and threathening to swallow it whole in it's comforting embrace. At the same time, discomfort cages the body, suspending it and robbing it of that comfort. As eyelids twitch and flutter open, dark brown eyes are immediately met with a blurred sight due to it's tears acting as a semi-transparent wall that impairs their view. As the senses flood in slowly, there's a quick realization that the softness felt was beneath in the form of silk sheets. Furthermore, as the body stirs, a stinging pain quickly takes over, rooting from the arms and legs.

..Wait, are these..ropes?

 "Are you awake, Ms. Aiko?" A voice calls. One that tingles the senses from the familiarity of it and in a way, helps finally ground the woman. Fluttering her eyelids and blinking away the teary wall that blurs her vision, she cranes her head slowly to the side and the sight she's met with sends a chill down her spine.

Sitting in front of the large windows that align the walls and provide the only source of light through a crack in the black curtains sits a shadowed figure who's eyes gleam in the moonlight and stare down her tied up figure with eyes of a hungry predator that's ready to consume it's meal at any given moment.

 "Wh.. Who are you?" She squeaks out, voice shakier than an unstable bridge ready to give out which she takes note of and in turn, bites her lip in an attempt to calm her nerves.

 "Shouldn't you be worried about other, more important things, miss?" The figure asks cooly as they cross their legs over the other and clasps their hands together, "I have some questions for you. Answer them honestly and—"

 "I don't care—!" With a squeeze of a finger her words die in her throat as a gun briefly shatters the silence of the room. On instinct, the woman's eyes slam shut and her mind shoots to the worst case scenario. However as the silence returns and nothing seems to happen, her eyes crack open and she looks up, her heart skipping a beat when she does. A bullet had slammed into the delicate woodwork of the headboard just inches above her head, cracking it's beautiful form and making her heart drop.

"You shouldn't interrupt others. It's rude," The figure scolds, but their words fall upon deaf ears. The woman seemed more interested in the fact that she was almost shot in the head rather than the person who almost shot her in the head, if her refusing to look away from the hole in the headboard was any indicator of that.

 "As I was saying, I have a few questions for you. Answer them honestly and you won't have much to worry about," The figure holds up two fingers, their other hand continuing to keep their gun pointed at her and their finger on the trigger, ready to shoot at any given moment.

 "I'm only giving you two more chances. Interrupt me again or refuse to answer and..well you understand, right? Nod your head if yes," Finally, the woman forces her eyes away from the bullet-pierced bedpost. She looks over, ignoring the clammy feeling she gets when she locks eyes with the figure, and nods her head.

 "Good.. For the past month, you've been kidnapping children and selling them off to someone. I need you to tell me who that is."

 "Huh?" The noise the woman lets out is rather exasperated but she quickly closes her mouth when the figure's eyes narrow. There's her opportunity, she thinks. Although risky, a small chance to get out of this situation is better than having none.

 "I don't know what you're talking about," She begins, her voice softening as her lips begin to stretch into a sheepish smile in the darkness, "I feel a tad bit insulted that you would assume I would do something so degrading--"

 "I have photo evidence that says otherwise," And just like that, the thread of opportunity snaps, "Embezzlement, first degree murder, aggravated assualt, extortion, the list goes on.." With each crime that leaves their lips, the woman's smile gets smaller and smaller until it was nowhere to be found, "I have enough evidence of your crimes to get you life in prison. However, if you comply and answer my questions honestly, I'll convince the police to reduce your sentence to.." A pause, "..Half that long."

 "Are you..threatening me?" As the words leave her lips, her teeth clench and grind, "Are yer' seriously threatenin' me? Do you have any idea who I am? With one phone call I could ruin yer' entire life! I--!"

 "If you don't have a name, it would help to describe their attributes, mannerisms, and or any ticks they may have. If you can't give me that, describe their voice and dialects--"

 "I'm not givin' you shit!" The woman shouts, "'Little brat thinks they can command me? Do you know what I'm capable of, I can—" With another squeeze of a finger, white hot flashes obscure her vision and a sharp, blood-curlding scream forces it's way out of her throat. Crimson drips from her shattered kneecap, the red liquid pooling out and staining the expensive bedding below.

Good thing these walls are soundproof.

Amidst her shrieks of pain, the figure seems completely unfazed. As if having done this countless times and as if her screams were some sort of familiar tune, they don't jump or tense up. They simply sit there and wait for her screeching to die down, silently hoping that she doesn't pass out like the last one did.

But it's no worry really. Although a bit inconvenient, they'll admit, they have ways of waking her if something like that does occur.

Lucky enough for them, that doesn't seem to be the case. Although big, clumpy tears roll down her cheeks and her body trembles violently, she's remains awake. A little out of it, yes, but conscious nonetheless.

 "That was strike two," The figure's voice rings out, speaking a tad bit louder so that their voice could hopefully be heard over the ringing that's probably going on in the woman's ears from the pain of being shot, but also remaining calm enough not to come off as aggressive, "I'll ask you one more time.."

 "Who is the person you've abducted kids for and what do they plan to do with them? 

 "Oh, you're done?" As the bodyguard enters an alleyway that's a few blocks from Mirai Hotel, a bouncy, almost honeyed voice is what he's greeted with, "You took longer than usual. Did you get anything useful out of her?"  

 "No, I did not," He answers simply only for a groan to be heard immediately after. As the person steps forward into the light, revealing a girl who's hoodie serves to conceal the majority of her appearance aside from her fringed bangs which poke out and covers her forehead.

 "Damn, so another dead end? And here I thought you took so long because you were gathering intel or something.." She grumbles, her lips beginning to form into a pout.

 "Without the necessary distraction from you, it took longer to get her in a secluded area where I could make my move," The bodyguard speaks, crossing his arms.

"Don't blame everything on me. I did my part and distracted that perv' she was with and even managed to get him to leave the hotel. Plus, even if things didn't go exactly as planned, you still managed just fine," Despite her words, the bodyguard didn't seem all that happy with her straying from the plan. Although to others, his face seemed relatively neutral.

 "Stop glaring at me like that," The girl said, waving her hand in a carefree manner, "You're alive aren't you? I don't know why you're getting so worked up."

 "..Moving on from that, why are the higher ups making us of all people play detective and investigate the abductions? Shouldn't the police be doing this?" She asks.

 "I don't know."

 "Would it kill you to be give more than a one-shot answer every once in a while?"

 "( Assassin Codename ), are you there? Did you succeed in gathering intel on the kidnapped children?" A familiar voice rings in the bodyguard's— er, assassin's ear, successfully pulling him away from the conversation at hand.

Bringing a hand up to signal to the girl to be quiet, the assassin brings his other hand up to hold down on the small button on his earpiece, "I couldn't get anything useful out of her."

A sigh is heard, "I thought so.. Someone will be arriving shortly to pick up both you and Inari. They will be escorting you to Rei's office."

 "Does it involve another assignment?" He asks which immediately catches the other assassin's attention and causes her to look at ( Assassin Codename ) with a rather exasperated expression.

 "Another assignment? We literally just finished one! I know we're the higher ups' favorites, but would it hurt them to give us a break before putting us on another exhausting mission?" She asks, waving her hands around in all types of directions to better show her distress.

 "Why are you complaining? You barely did anything," ( Assassin Name ) says flatly.

 "How can you say that? I'll have you know I was working very hard.." As Inari begins her rant of all the things she has done to help out, and occassionally slipping in the times she's helped in past operations, ( Assassin name ) eventually tunes her out. As a black car slowly pulls to a stop in front of the alleyway, the assassin turns on his heel and walks off. Promptly ignoring the curses that are thrown at him as Inari follows after them. 

"This is ridiculous! What kind of scenarios ran through my seniors' minds to make them think that we would be compatible enough to work together?" The male grumbled as he took another once over at the information on the papers he was given.

 "Oh c'mon, don't get so angry, Kazu'," The pink-haired hitman drawled, walking over to his counterpart's desk which had the nameplate that read 'Kazuhiko Rei' standing tall in the center front.

With a lazy smile on his face, he swings his arms around the hazel-eyed male, "You get to work with your best buddy and the world's greatest hitman! You should be jumping with joy!"

With a scoff, the suited agent pushes him off with a forceful roll of his shoulder which causes the younger male to chuckle.

"As always, your arrogance knows no bounds, Ry��ji."

As if he had been shot in the heart, Ryūji clutches his chest and staggers back. His expression morphing into one of faux agony as his brows knit together and his hand comes up to fall dramatically over his forehead.

 "I can't believe you can be so cruel to me! Help me out here, Rina!" At the call of her codename, the girl sitting on the lush couch pauses, her hands stilling above the keys of her laptop as she looks over, her lips stretching into a smile.

 "Well logically speaking, I can't provide an accurate estimate since I don't know the details of this assignment yet. However, I can give you my educated guess based on your compatibility in past operations you've had together as well as the statistics of your own individual skill sets," She said, already beginning to type the numbers into her computer when Rei signals to her to stop.

 "That won't be needed, Rina. Please, do not insult your own intelligence by humoring this fool any longer," He says.

Retracting her hands from the keyboard, Rina eyes fall closed as she nods her head, "Very well then."

 "Huh.. Why do I feel betrayed all of a sudden?" Ryūji asks no one in particular.

With a sudden burst pulling everyone in the room away from the conversation, the doors to Rei's office swing open and Inari comes running in, her straight-faced colleague walking in shortly after her.

 "We're here!" Inari says in a sort of sing-songy voice, getting a mixture of different greetings as a response. Initially her smile widens, but as her eyes fall on Ryūji, who was now splayed out on the couch parallel to the one Rina sat on, her mouth falls open slightly and her eyes widen as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

 "Ryūji?" As she nears him, the hitman stretches his arm out, his hand balled into a fist as he waits for her to reciprocate the action.

 "Long time no see, kid," He says and her smile quickly returns. Balling up her hand, Inari eagerly fists bumps with the pink-haired hitman and in response to that, he laughs and throws his arm around her shoulders, pulling her down so that he could ruffle her hair.

 "Why are you here?" ( Assassin Codename ) questions.

 "First time seeing me in three years and that's what you ask me? And here I thought you'd be running into my arms," He jokes, but the assassin doesn't laugh nor roll his eyes. He doesn't react much at all really. 

 "The government has, for some odd reason, hired Ryūji to work alongside us on this operation," Rei says, his deep, mellow voice capturing everyone's attention.

 "Us?" Inari repeats, "You're going to be involved too? What, are aliens taking over the world or something?" She jokes. Her brow raising when she spots Ryūji making a face at her comment.

 "I'll explain the details in a moment. Firstly, would either of you like some tea? I've just restocked yesterday," Rei asks, sliding his chair back so that he can stand up and walk out from behind his desk.

( Assassin Codename ) walks over to the couch where Rina types who knows what into her laptop and sits down, "I'll have ( Tea of Choice )," He says, as the long haired girl beside her halts and glances up at Rei.

 "May I have a refill?" She asks, having long finished her chamomile tea before the other two arrived. Rei nods his head, "Of course."

 "Peppermint for me!" Inari exclaims which gains a few sideways looks from her two partners in crime.

"What?" She inquires as Rei walks out of the room to fetch the tea.

"It's nothing really," Rina says, "..but I thought you would've grown out of this phase by now.."

Inari brow quirks up, a vein flexing on the corner of her face, "Like that flowery bullshit taste any better."

"It does taste better. Research shows that—"

 "—My research shows that it tastes like watered-down grass," Inari interrupts.

As the two began bickering, Ryūji pouts. Not due to their pointless argument, but because of the blonde-headed agent who walked out a few moments ago.

 "How come he didn't ask me if I wanted anything?" He asks which only catches ( Assassin Codenames )'s attention, the other two being too indulged in their dispute to hear him.

 "You don't like tea," They answer simply and like some moody teenager, Ryūji's pout deepens, a small 'hmph' slipping from his lips as he crosses his arms.

 "Yeah but he could've still offered me some."

 "Hey, ( Assassin Codename )!" Inari calls, "You have taste. Set Rina straight already so that we can move on from this."

 "Both teas possess a distasteful flavor. I'm not partial to either."

 "Ugh! You're hopeless!" Inari shouts. Rina looks at her with an almost disappointed look.

 "It was immature of you to try and drag a third party into our conversation in order to win an argument," She scolds, using an almost motherly tone. Inari rolls her eyes.

 "Yeah, yeah whatever.." As that grumbled comment leaves her lips, Inari chooses to plop down on the small space left on the couch that Ryūji was laying on. Shortly after doing so, the doors to the office open and Rei comes rolling in with a small cart.

As the light smell of different teas fill the air, Rei hands ( Assassin Codename ) and Inari their cups of tea before grabbing the gaudy-looking teapot and pouring Rina some chamomile tea in her matching teacup. He then wheels the cart over to a corner before walking back over to his desk and sitting down.

 "So.. Don't keep us in suspense, what's this new assignment about?" Inari says after a while.

 "Yes," Rei clasps his hands together, his eyes narrowing, "We're all aware about the incident that happened two months ago? The one involving our moon being turned into a permanent crescent seemingly in an instant?"

 "How could we forget?" Inari said, leaning back against the couch, "Those stick in the mud higher ups of ours have been losing their shit over it ever since."

 "Well a week or so after that happened, we captured an alien-like being who we have reason to believe is responsible for that incident. Unfortunately, we're having trouble with destroying it."

 "Are these details relevant to the assignment?" ( Assassin Codename ) cuts in. Rei nods his head.

 "Yes, you see, about a month ago the creature made the odd request to teach a class of poor-preforming students at Kunugigaoka Junior High."

 "And our superiors agreed to this arrangement?" Rina asks, her brows beginning to knit together, "Having civilians come in such close contact with this creature will increase the difficulty of killing the creature and tremendously decrease our success rate. And, that's not counting the possible causalities that could happen."

  "I understand your concerns. I myself was skeptical of the idea of allowing the fiend around defenseless children, however the creature has sworn not to bring any harm to the students and is completely fine with them attacking as they see fit. Plus, government officials will be there to oversee everything so in that aspect, we have nothing to worry about."

 "But what's stopping it from attacking them? You said it yourself that even with the government's advanced technology and resources they were unable to defeat it so what's preventing it from doing whatever it wishes to?" She retorts.

 "We don't understand it's reasoning behind this nor can we one hundred percent guarantee the kids' safety but regardless, we don't have much of a choice. You see, when the creature proposed this idea it also made the proclamation that it will blow up the earth within a year's time."

 "So they're panicking.." Inari mumbles, referring to her superiors, "Heh.. How pathetic," She sneers, "..But I guess it's not all bad. Think if we take it's head they'll actually pay us for our efforts?"

 "Actually, they will. If we manage to succeed, they're agreeing to pay us a rather hefty sum of money—ten billion yen, to be precise," Rei explains causing everyone, aside from a certain monotonous someone, to gape in shock.

 "You serious?" Inari is the one to break the silence, her gaze seeming almost skeptical as she awaits for him to answer.

 "Am I one to joke about something like this?" Rei asks only for Ryūji to follow up with, "Yeah, is he one to joke at all?"

Rei continues, "We would, of course, split the ten billion among ourselves, but I'm sure none of you mind having two billion yen to keep for yourself. If you do, I can divide Ryūji's share among you three."

 "Hey, how come I'm gettin' a pay cut and we haven't even got the ten billion yet?"

Ignoring him, Rei focuses his attention on the three assassins' before him, "So, do you believe you all can handle this task? As you already know, there is no room for failure."

 "Not like we have much of a choice," Inari says, "And even if I did, I wouldn't want to leave the fate of my future to a buncha' punks."

 "That's rich coming from you, Inari," Rina quips. She then turns to look at ( Assassin Codename ) who seemed more or less unfazed by the entire situation as he sipped his tea.

 "What do you think would be the right course of action, ( Assassin Codename )?" Rina asks and suddenly everyone's eyes are on him, not that he cares.

Slowly, he lowers the teacup from his mouth, "Isn't it obvious?" He asks, and as if everything revolved around him in this moment, the atmosphere seems to completely change.

Upon first glance, it goes unnoticed, but as the assassin looks up, his gaze sharper than any dagger he may have hidden and more dangerous than any murderous fiend or wild animal, the bloodlust that exudes them becomes all the more apparent.

 "I'll make short work of it." 

A whistle of amusement breaks the silence before it even has the time to begin, "Well then it's settled! Team Pink is in business!" Ryūji cheers. Inari following up with a similar noise of glee.

Rei lets out a long sigh, his hand coming up to prop his head up, "I can already feel a headache coming on.."

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

Peace

Summary: Bucky’s reminiscing about a woman during the war leads to his demise. 

Rating: Mature

Pairing: 40s Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Main Character Death

Word Count: 900+

A/N: Not Beta’d

Dark. Stiff. Cold.

Cicadas buzzed in the dead of the night. Dirt crumbled beneath the weight of the soldiers. Their backs pressed against the inside of the foxhole. Bucky’s boot ricocheted off of his battle buddy, Dum Dum Dugan. There had been just enough space for the two soldiers to fit. It wasn’t comfortable by any means but it kept them alert. Bucky shifted the weight of his rifle between his hands. He could just about see the direct caked beneath his nails in the moonlight. His hands protested the movement, dried blood cracked as the skin of his palms stretched. The sweat painting his skin plastered the uniform on his body like a second skin. Between the smell of sweat and rotting corpses nearby, Bucky could taste the bile threatening to rise in the back of his throat.

“How many soldiers do you think died from boredom instead of war?” A familiar voice called out. Gabe Jones; a fellow soldier in a foxhole nearby. A few soldiers chuckled at the rhetorical question. They were all bored, having been stationed in the same location for hours.

“If you don’t keep quiet, the war will get you before boredom does,” another soldier piped up. This time laughter erupted between all of the soldiers. When the voices died down, the reality of their situation set in.

Bucky could make out the moment his partner's expression turned somber. Dugan’s inner eyebrows slanted as he tipped his head back, his focus trained on the stars, “What do you reckon is waiting for us on the other side?”

The silence was deafening. No one wanted to think about death on a serious note. They were surrounded by it. Many of them joked about death having toed the line of life and death several times. That’s why it made sense when the answers ranged from alcohol to women. Some answers were more vulgar than others but in the end, their responses led to some form of peace.

Bucky tuned the responses out, mirroring his partner. One of his bloodied hands slapped the top of his helmet, preventing it from slipping off of his head as he stared up at the stars. Dum Dum had been older than Bucky. He lived a full life: met a woman, settled down, and had children. He had enlisted to protect his family during the war, only for his wife to die while he was away. 

Bucky may not have been married or had children but he had met a woman. The same woman whose picture was embedded beneath his helmet. She too, had passed during the war and Bucky knew there could only be one version of peace waiting for him on the other side. Any version of death without her would be his hell.

Hey Sergeant. It had been the first thing she had said to him. It was always the first thing she said to him. It didn’t matter if she was greeting him or asking his opinion. Sometimes she used it just before she would do something that would drive him crazy. Sometimes it was during a fight. Other times he swore she said it just because she knew he liked the way she said it. Her voice haunted him after her death but nothing compared to the real thing. He carried her picture in his helmet, a reminder. He would never forget the way she looked but he was afraid he was beginning to forget the way she sounded.

Stuck in his head reminiscing, Bucky had been blindsided to the enemy's arrival. It seemed, most of the soldiers hadn’t been ready for the enemies, lost in their own thoughts.

“Bucky behind you!”

Bucky turned around, his hands gripping the rifle tightly ready to take the shot. It was too late. The rifle slipped from his grasp, shock painting his face. Bucky’s hand pressed into the wound on his stomach. His knees buckled when his hand came back crimson.

“Barnes!”

A hand tugged on his shoulder rolling him onto his back. Crazed blue eyes examined Bucky’s wound. Bucky’s ears had been ringing and he wished he could say something, anything but all he could do was watch as Dum Dum shouted above him.

A copper taste lingered in the back of Bucky’s throat. At some point, he’d lost his helmet. He’d lost her. His hands were shoved aside, replaced with the hands of his battle buddy. The weight of Dugan’s hands had Bucky sucking in a sharp breath.

The copper taste had disappeared, taking with it the smell of death that seemed to linger on the battlefield. His eyes twinkled as he stared up at the sky. Dum Dum had still been shouting in the background but all Bucky could focus on was the stars. It was then that he knew.

Dum Dum stared down at Bucky. The mumbled plea on Bucky’s chapped lips confused Dum Dum but then Bucky’s head rolled. Following Bucky’s line of sight, his eyes landed on the picture face-up, in Bucky’s discarded helmet. Then it clicked for Dugan. Bucky wasn’t saying please, he was saying peace.

Dugan nodded at Bucky, a silent understanding. Dum Dum seized Bucky’s hands, pressing them back into the bullet wound before crawling toward the helmet. Ignoring the helmet, Dum Dum crawled back on his stomach, the sepia photograph between his fingers.

“I got ‘er for ya Barnes.”

Bucky’s bloodied sticky fingers hugged the worn-out image to his chest. He could hear her soft voice calling out to him, greeting him. A siren song drawing him in. “Hey Sergeant.” He could practically see her smile in the stars. Glancing down at the picture, his eyes began to blur. Then, his hand went limp, no longer able to feel the photograph in his hand. Her voice rang loud and clear in his ears, “Welcome home.”

Dark. Stiff. Cold.

Bucky finally knew peace.

[b3rrymilks]

𝖊𝖞𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖈𝖙

synopsis ; THIS ENTIRE FIC IS BASED FROM https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8Rm5pDA/ (slide 9) PLS READ IT BEFORE READING!! ALL CREDS TO @/candle.wishes ON TT. pt 2

story note ; pure angst. no happy ending. violence, nearing character death. // i added the fact reader got bit by a radioactive spider that only gave them the super strength and ability to stick to walls. no spidey senses.

authors note ; this isn’t proofread, and it’s rushed ☹️ sauryy but I HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT THIS WHEN MY FRIEND SENT IT TO ME ON TIK TOK! ART CRED : thokzu on tt

pairing ; miles morales (e!42) x fem!reader

LOOK INTO MY EYES.

🕷️. “get up, it’s time.” you’d heard your uncle say. he had pushed your legs from the relaxed position they were propped in. “now?? it’s like 1 am” you squinted at the red analog clock. “stop complaining and get ready, we need to hit this bank before they open.” you uncles cold voice had told you to stop asking questions and to hurry up and get ready.

your uncle was the leader in these big plans, but after recent fuck ups, you were taken from the main plan.

“but why??” you asked, holding your arms out in a confused manner. “because you can’t hold your own, we need you out of the actual action.” your uncle replied, ignoring your presence. “but it’s never been my fault, it’s always—“ your uncle had completely shut your statement down. “but but but? you have YET to complete something i ask you to do. you fail at every little thing. you’re not ready.” he had nearly yelled at you.

your family has been doing this for years, it was only recently when “the prowler” had began disrupting your part of the plans. even though you tried to tell your family it wasn’t your fault the plans went to shit, they never believed you. a week ago, you’d gotten bitten by a strange spider while scoping out the bank. you brushed it off as you were in the middle of escaping the authorities.

you’d gotten an intense increasing to your strength, surpassing your uncle.

the plan went active tonight.

“don’t fuck this up.” your brother warned you before leaving to his role in this. “alright, once your mother hacks the cams and alarm system, we’re in. y/n you’re on lookout. make sure no one catches wind of what we’re doing, got it?” you rolled your eyes at the fact you were lookout, and that your brother took your spot in assisting your uncle with breaking in. “yeah whatever.” you replied through the radio.

minutes of silence passed, it felt like the smallest move and your entire presence would be exposed. perching on the building for lookout, the alarms and cams had finally been hacked. “they’re down, now!” your mother announced through the radio. you watched as your uncle and brother entered the bank. “you only have about 8 minutes before the alarms reactivate and give away what’s happening here, we need to—.” the static had interrupted your moms voice, but before you could take action, a heavy blow came to your stomach.

rolling from the impact, you quickly caught yourself and stood upwards.

“you didn’t think i’d let this go by unnoticed did you?” his voice was changed by the mask he wore.

that stupid mask that he always wore. the holo eyes were slanted, and a light purple color.

“i’m so fucking sick of you!” you yelled at him before charging towards him.

you two both collided by trading punches. yours weren’t as strong due to the heavy hit you’d just taken. sharp pains had shot through your stomach. the adrenaline hadn’t kicked in yet, leaving you in pain.

“i’m not letting you continue this life of crime you seek, not here.” he spoke between every punch he threw. every attack you threw at him, he saw it coming.

you didn’t give up. eventually, his attacks had gotten sloppy, signaling he was tiring himself out. you two had gotten closer to each other, more hits connecting and blood had been drawn.

“just give up already,” he spoke again, watching you catch your breath. in his eyes, he saw your mask was ripped, catching light of your face. little by little.

glaring at him, you’d observed that there were cracks in his mask. “you’re never going to—“ you were sick of his constant mocking, talking and presence in general.

charging at him again, you’d tackled him and took hold of his neck. the adrenaline had finally come, and the pain was now gone. you straddled his waist, pressing your fingers against his esophagus. “i’m so sick of you belittling me. just like everyone in my family.” you seethed at him, watching air slowly leave his body. his claws held onto your wrists, tapping them profusely. “i’m not letting you go this time.” you began laying heavy blows to his mask, feeling it break.

your knuckles had began bleeding. blood hit the ground as you kept punching him, over and over again. you weren’t giving up, he attempted to reach up to your mask, reaching for the remains of it.

as the glass of his mask began to break, it exposed each feature, one at a time. first it cracked near his eyes. brown eyes.

then it began to crack near his nose. his nostrils were flared due to the pain he was enduring.

upon one final blow, the mask had finally completely broken. holding up your fist, preparing for one last blow, you took a look at the boy that had been ruining everything for you.

the claws had now broken, falling to the ground as he held up his hands in defense. his eyes were nearly swollen. blood had trailed down from his nose. his lips were bloodied. his face was decorated with cuts, all which were seeping blood. you relaxed your grip on his throat.

he had began inhaling large amounts of air, as you had completely frozen. he had finally peeled off your mask, revealing your face.

“wh— no, no no no no.” you silently wished it was all just a dream. this couldn’t possibly happen.

you watched miles struggle to breathe, struggle to open his eyes fully, struggle to even move.

“miles?”

“y/n?” through coughs, and broken breaths he still managed to speak.

the boy you dearly wanted to protect. the boy you went to school with. the boy that you always wanted to see in your spare time, the boy you loved. the boy you lived next to, was nearly dead from your hands.

you got up, quickly backing up. everything in your head began spinning. the pain had nearly caught up with you, throbbing had come to your head. you watched him hold his side, still coughing.

“no, no.” was the phrase you kept repeating, over, over and over again. “please.” you begged.

3 HOURS LATER.

you hid in your room, lights off, in complete darkness. hugging your knees close to your chest. the light suddenly turned on, and your uncle and brother came in. “what happened to you?? you almost ruined the entire—“ finally stopping the scolding, he had seen how injured you were. cuts and bruises blemished your skin, and your knuckles. “what happened to you?” the question had more emotion tied to it, as he kneeled down to touch you.

flinching from his touch, you remained quiet. “do you wanna tell me what happened?”

whenever you closed your eyes, all you could see was miles’ bloodied face. before you knew it was him, whenever you closed your eyes, you’d see his smile.

you trembled under anyone’s touch. the pain had died down, leaving you with sudden shots of pain every now and then. you hadn’t washed the blood from your body. you’d raise your shaking, cut open, bloody hands to show yourself what you did to the person you cared the deepest for.

“it was miles.” you silently whispered.

[poggieking3]

piping hot take! i do not really like PTSD being thrown around with the main 4 (mario, 3, 4, and meggy). i have C-PTSD so i can say shit on this. 4 nearly DIED in that castle and was left traumatized, meggy was mentally AND psychologically tortured for AT LEAST a month straight, mario has his own demons i'm SURE, and 3 is on his way getting more trauma. give these guys a BREAKKK they've gone through way too much, how much else are they going to take.

whole fucking rant under the cut

like, okay please don't get me wrong here. i like puzzlevision, i actually really like him. he is interesting, his character his interesting, i love his character design, his personality. i fear that this mini series will end up having 1 or multiple of the main 4 getting traumatized, and then have it never touched on again. this happened to meggy DEADASS like her trauma was never mentioned again after western spaghetti. wren easily fucked her up for LIFE. and it's just? forgotten...?

like holy shit i wish PTSD was handled more accurately in this series, especially as of recently. i like how melony's was handled. she was grieving deeply for axol and helped herself cope by adopting her pet axol jr and taking care of it, and keeping axol's memory alive. meggy was grieving deeply for desti and trained hard to fulfill desti's wish and win the splatfest, also keeping desti's memory alive. 4's castle trauma also was done right. bro was having a whole bipolar manic episode and was SUFFERING from his own nonexistent self-worth and self-esteem, and was taken advantage of completely by puzzlevision. he watched EVERYTHING around him crumble. he watched HIMSELF crumble and was an outside witness to it, with no control. then, meggy being tortured and killed over and over and OVER again is quickly forgotten about, just like that???

i love PTSD representation in media. i cherish it. it makes me feel seen. i'm just. upset how wren fucking RUINED meggy's life by torturing her over and over, killing her, making her lose her sanity and trust, and then it's. never mentioned again. she has hands down gone through THE WORST of the entire cast. i fucking know what it's like to have my life ruined by people, multiple people in my damn case. i did not go through what she did, but if my trauma was cast off to the side after the movie it occurred in i'd be MAD for sure!

i've talked about how i'd handle meggy's trauma. after wren broke her fucking mind, she'd be coping EXTREMELY poorly because of how much she endured. she'd be inconsolable. she'd be emotionally unstable and lash out. she'd feel threatened by tiny inconveniences because they'd remind her of what wren put her through. she'd be terrified of male inklings. she'd have CONSTANT nightmares since every day in that simulation, she woke up in bed remembering each fashion wren killed her in. she'd pat her chest and stomach, scared she got shot again. she'd have panic attacks hearing guns go off. something as small as a southern accent could set alarms off in her head.

if i had a nickel for every time meggy's life was threatened by a villainous man hellbent on scarring her for life, i'd have 2 nickels, which is weird how it happened twice. she wasn't even safe ON HER OWN VACATION?

i just don't get how the movie pretty much made her suffer repeatedly and there's nothing as small as a reference to her trauma in the current episodes? we saw her fight off wren in that tier list 3 and 4 made together because 3 said she has plot armor. but that's it!

put the solar system bitches in a series of happy, wholesome filler episodes and PRONTO. give these guys a trillion dollars in compensation each. imma be real upset if, after the puzzlevision series, the trauma relating to it is never heard of again, ESPECIALLY given that puzzlevision's been a prominent threat for a solid year now

luke and kevin i love you both saur much i just. clenches fist to myself.

[retromotherfuckers]

When the Sun Sets - Part 3

In-Between

Characters:

morgan winchester (OC), sam winchester, dean winchester, alastair

Summary:

the winchesters after the death of the middle child. oh, and hell.

Warnings (for entire story):

SPN typical violence, so so much suppressing of emotions, vague mention of SA, depiction of torture, a very pro-torture main character, vague mention of not eating for a while, slightly suicidal ideation, SPN typical alcohol abuse, spoiler warning up to the end of season 8, following canon stops after the end of season 2, but things are definitely going to be mentioned.

Word Count:

2.1k ~ roughly

A/N:

ahhh this one, i love this one. trigger warning for torture. POV switches a few times.

italics = flashback.

dean: 28, morgan: 27, sam: 24

It was all too much.

"I'm not gonna let you go to Hell, Mo!" Sam, the middle Winchester, said as his tears betrayed him.

Morgan wouldn't let them save her. She didn't even let them try. After what felt like a lifetime of them protecting her, she wouldn't accept any more of it. Sam and Dean Winchester used every outlet, read every book they could find twice and called every hunter they knew to find some way to get her out of this with no luck. Their last ditch effort, was doomed to end just end the way they dreaded the most; with the middle child being scratched and ripped to shreds by hellhounds.

She made a deal with the devil. Now her fate was sealed.

“Yes, you are.”

One shot.

The old grandfather clock struck midnight and marked the close of a year, bringing the siblings to silence. It was an earthquake confined to the small room and Dean wasn't positive, but he thought he could see the sound waves as they pulsed and thumped. He could feel them in his bones, leaving them shattered in their wake. He felt his stomach rise up to his throat at the pang. He couldn't control the way his heart started to pound, like it would explode out of his chest.

The demon was next to his sister, and expressed her sympathies, but Morgan couldn't peel her eyelids up to look at her. Eyes the color of the sky had filled with tears, sticking to her lashes. He knew that if she blinked, they'd fall, and the fallacy she'd created - that this case was just a run-of-the-mill salt and burn - would be destroyed.

Then, when she flinched without warning, he knew she was hearing them. Fatal and hungry. Her voice broke through the tauntingly ominous quiet, and somehow it's worse than the damn clock.

“Hellhounds.”

Another one.

Morgan's voice was familiar to her brothers, but it was deeper than usual. Full of gravel, and it lacked the authority it usually held. It was hollow and horse and full of fear, something Sam and Dean didn't want to hear from their sister again. Sam's face was nearly a replica when he spoke, asking how she could hear it, and where it was coming from.

Then they were running. Doing everything they could to get her away from the dogs that wanted to pull her soul from her body piece by piece, atom by atom, back to Hell with them for eternal damnation. They made it into a small office, Sam, Ruby and Morgan holding the door shut, keeping the hounds out while Dean put a barrier line on the floor and windows so they couldn't get in right away. It was a futile effort, maybe it would buy them a few seconds, but it wasn't fucking enough.

The bourbon slid down his throat, smooth and warm, a burn that matched the sting in his eyes. The tears threatened to fall as he let out a shaky exhale and tried to breathe past the tightening in his throat. No matter what he did, no matter how much he drank, nothing would free him from the memory. He knew it wasn't going away, but he was determined to keep at it until he couldn't remember his sister's name anymore.

Morgan's screams echoed through their ears, pulsing and tearing at them again and again until it hurts their own vocal cords. They stared, not making a sound, just watching their sister get torn apart until she couldn't breathe. Until they couldn't breathe. Dean thought that, maybe in some corner of reality, Sam was saying something but his pleas continue to go ignored. Dean could only sit with his knees to the floor - and not just because Lilith wasn't letting him move.

Her blood was everywhere; the floor, the walls, some on his legs. The clatter of a knife hitting the floor went unnoticed. The youngest Winchester's cries as he held the motionless body didn't exist.

There was nothing except the ringing in Dean's ears.

There was nothing but a body that was getting cold and he couldn't tell if it was Morgan's or his.

Who the hell cares how long ago it was? There were some things time couldn't heal. And even Dean couldn’t deny that the past was harder to deal with when the sun sets.

The bartender gave him an incredulous gaze as he motioned for more, it was a look that told him he was probably close to finishing the bottle. A look he had been getting a lot lately. He wanted to retort rudely but even the alcohol couldn't weaken his exceptional ability to keep his mouth shut.

A brush of red hair suddenly entered his peripheral vision. He turned to see a woman, probably twenty-nine or thirty, definitely not much older or younger than him. She wore a sleeveless red flannel tied up at her ribs, denim shorts with the pockets sticking out at the front that barely left anything to the imagination, a light brown cowboy hat with matching boots and a belt. Practically every other redneck chick ever, Dean thought, but I'm not complaining.

Dean sat a bit confused for a moment when the girl didn't say anything. She just stood there, right next to him, too close - in an under-crowded bar no less - to pretend she didn't have any intentions. He guessed that the blonde was trying to put together a coherent pick-up line before she spoke. When she finally decided to talk, her words were kind of slurred together and very accented, but not too much where the eldest Winchester was worried about taking advantage. If anything, he rationalized, I'm drunker. He practically grew up drinking, given his family, and learned how to handle booze early on.

"What's a guy like you doin' in a place like this?"

"It took you two 'n a half minutes to come up with that? What are you? A guy?"

"Hey," She chuckled. "Gimme a break, been drinkin' a bit."

Dean eyed her up and down a second time, making it blatantly obvious he was checking her out. He hummed and nodded, silently giving the girl his approval. "Clearly."

The woman wasn't really clean, with dirt under her chipped finger nails that suggested she didn't ever wash her hands. There was a sheen of soot all over her exposed skin. Which there was a lot of, but again, he was not complaining. She kind of looked gross if Dean had anything to say about it. But she had a nice enough face and she was his type on paper: skinny with an ass, curly hair.

Plus, it wasn't like he hadn't gone a week without showering before. And come to think of it, that had become way less rare over the past few months.

So who was he to judge?

Sam Winchester used to give his siblings a hard time for how much they drank. But honestly? He got it now. As he had his mouth to Ruby's wrist, guzzling down her blood for the fourth time that night, he wondered why he didn't try it sooner. Well, he knew why. Because the thought of ingesting demon blood was foreign to just about everyone. It made him feel alive, helped him forget. Or it at least distracted him enough to the point where couldn't even begin to think about it. Kept his ass from bouncing off the walls when thinking about his sister or the last time he saw Dean became too much. 

He hadn't seen Dean in months, and he almost didn't want to. The two of them were so far removed from each other that by that point, he didn't know how to break the ice. He didn't know if Dean even wanted him to.

He was stuck, picturing Morgan tied up, being tortured, because of him. Because she just had to go and save him. There was nothing he could do about it anymore. There was no getting her out of Hell. He had already tried to make a deal, and he didn't even have to wonder if Dean did too. There was nothing the Winchester brothers wouldn't do for their sister. But the sheer fact that there wasn't anything left for them to try was enough to keep him locked in that fucked up cycle with Ruby.

Hook up with her, drink her blood, kill some demons, increase his skill, repeat.

What else could he do?

Morgan Winchester was dead. She didn't know exactly for how many Earth years, but in Hell time, it'd been six thousand.

The first forty years were doable, being strung up on the rack was doable. The whips, her fingernail's being torn off, the knives slowly cutting away at her. She could handle it. She could even handle the psychological torture, having her hallucinate her siblings and parents, coming in and telling her what they truly thought of her. All things she had already known, and had already believed. But it was when they upped the anti, that she started to crack. It was when demons started doing all of that and more as her family. When they stopped using tools and started using their hands, she had truly begun to break. There was another fifteen years of that.

And when she finally gave up, it had become her job to do it to someone else.

Alastair was a damn good teacher, she had to give it to him. He had been the one to torture her, and he basked in the glory of turning a Winchester into a demon. It took about three thousand more Hell years, but she finally finished the program. Two thousand tortured souls under her belt to her teacher's satisfaction.

Demons started torturing to avoid being tortured themselves. They were the result of going to Hell and having all humanity burned out of their human soul. They were dark, malicious spirits that reveled in pain, chaos and death. Ruby had told Morgan that most demons forgot what it meant to be human. Some even forget that they were humans in the first place. She had learned some demons were true believers, though, in Hell's purpose. To cleanse. And they truly believed themselves morally superior to humans.

But after another thousand years, she started having fun.

She had only wished that by the time she was down there and playing her latest game on the next soul, she could've gotten the chance to torture her father. Get her grimy hands on his skin and tear it off of him cell by cell. Then she heard Sam was down there, too, and she would've been upset, had she not known he was locked up in the cage with Lucifer. She knew she was good at her job, but compared Lucifer and Michael? Even as a demon, her ego hadn't grown that big.

And then she got to pick her own name, and all bets were off.

On Earth, Adriadne had never seen a demon's true form. Now down in the pit, where they roamed freely and carelessly, she didn't flinch at the sight of them. When her soul had started changing, becoming stickier, malleable, and black, she almost second guessed her decision to get off the rack. But at the same time, her memories of her time on Earth were starting to fade. They started twisting into her memories of being tortured - becoming one in the same.

Recently, she had heard a few more things. One; that Dean Winchester, someone she couldn't quite put her finger on, was in purgatory with an angel. Two; that Crowley was not only the king of Hell, but he was granting certain demons passage to Earth for a little joyride upstairs. Three; that he was restoring their old bodies, if in decent enough shape.

Eventually, Adriadne, no longer remembered her real name. Adriadne was who she is, was and what she would always be, for the rest of time. Where there used to be normal human eyes there was only darkness. No pupil, no cornea, no whites of the eyes; everything was just black.

She did remember there were people on Earth that used to love her, and she remembered the physical aspects to being human. Having to eat and sleep and breathe, but not much else. There was something about needing connection with another human that meant something to them, but it was lost on her.

But as she tried to remember the smallest bit about who she used to be, she realized it was pointless. Why would she try to remember when she was powerless? When she had no purpose, no duty?

She figured that maybe a trip upstairs in her original meat suit might be fun. She couldn’t find a reason not to.

Why wouldn’t she take the chance to feel the sun on her skin?