#but!! there are a few of us still hangin around :')

[good-beans]

Please tell me about Lukas.

Sincerely, a poor soul who is obsessed with Milgram but knows very little about Fire Emblem.

Lukas is my beloved character of all time :) Comfort character to rival all comfort characters :) He’s just like me fr :) He’s so healing to watch heal :)

He’s from Fire Emblem Echoes, and for a good portion of the game he’s that mentor/tutorial character who helps you/the protagonist through the new world you’re thrown into. The thing was, they put together an incredibly complex asexual, neurodivergent guy who’s not really in it for the fighting (but is damned good at it anyway). They gave him the sweetest and saddest smile possible. They gave him the most relaxing voice you could imagine. They gave him two of the wackiest and complimentary friends. How could I not fall in love?

Basically, he reveals that he’s not involved in this whole war because he wanted to be – his father and brother conspired to send him away to fight for their own gain, not really caring if he lived or died. He took on the new life with just as much motivation as if he chose it himself, though. He’s not here for any dreams of glory or violence, he just wants to help the new friends he’s made ;-; He has a really big heart, but he’s not afraid to make the tough call and commit war crimes. He’s gentle to the child soldier protagonists, but is the first person to trust them and allow them into the army. 

Fire Emblem is notorious for its fanservice, which is why I will forever be Insane over his support conversation with one of those friends I mentioned. He describes his struggles with romance and desire, perfectly describing an asexual experience. His friend, Python, responds with so much kindness. It’s done with a lot of tact and respect, and was one of the final pieces to my own acceptance of my asexuality. 

Less intended, but he talks about his struggles with emotions that comes off as low-empathy neurodivergence, or a form of Alexithymia. He doesn’t feel strong emotions most of the time, then occasionally gets swept up in them and lashes out. (Sorry for all the tmi but) this is also something I struggle with. Though I come off overly excited online, I’ve dealt with the same coldness/heartless accusations he has. His writing and voice acting really drive it home, and it’s wonderful to see. Once again, he’s treated with immense respect for this trait. He feels self-conscious about it, but the cast sees that as a strength of his.

His relationship with the other two knights is super fun! I could go on separate rants about Python and Forsyth, but just know they are equally perfect. They all compliment one another so well, and hype each other up in such lovely ways. They've even got a fun RGB color scheme going on :3

OKAY I AM CUTTING MYSELF OFF because I could go on forever about him 😂 He holds such a special place in my heart -- it's silly, but thank you sm for asking :’) And, since you mentioned Milgram, this reminded me of a super goofy comparison to Yuno I made as one of my first Milgram posts, as well as my wips of the Fuuta-Lukas outfit swap I need to finish...

[k9wa]

⟁ SENSITIVE ft. BOOTHILL.

⠀ — “you get all excited for me to fix you up and call you a good boy.”

⠀ OR

⠀ — a sensitive spot during a repair leaves him melting into your callused little hands.

⚠︎ mechanic!reader, so much flirting im kind of sick, he whimpers i have an agenda, this is like 90% dialogue sorry, he wants u sooo bad. wc 1k, from this req.

“y’know darlin,” boothill managed to breathe out through a taut jaw and clenched teeth. “you bein’ this close ain’t exactly helpin’ me focus none.”

your fingers were slow, careful, precise as they pushed a few tiny wires apart, giving view deeper inside the little panel on boothill’s throat.

the position you two stood in was one all too familiar, boothill perched on your workbench with you between his thighs— the only new variables being your face way closer than he’s used to and your fingers proding around in his surprisingly sensitive wires.

it was an…odd sensation, to say the least. a small unpleasant stinging that simultaneously stimulated a rather pleasant shiver up his back with every small poke.

“time and place, cowboy.”

you responded quietly, tone a little flat with your tease from concentration.

“can’t help lettin’ my mind— wander, can i now?” his breath hitched a bit as you nicked a particularly touchy wire.

“if you let me finish this,” you lifted your head enough to meet his eyes, free hand gently smoothing out the crease in his brow. “i’ll let you show me just how wild your imagination can get.”

boothill bit back a scruff chuckle at that. 

“that enough incentive for you to sit still?”

“well, i reckon that’s plent— mmgh!”

a pair of mechanical hands tightly grab onto your hips as his shoulders tense, a knee-jerk result of your tweezers finding the out of place wire you’d been looking around for.

your hands paused, opting to ignore the way he audibly whimpered for raising your gaze a second time to check on him.

“you hangin’ in there?”

boothill’s fingers flexed as they held onto you, relaxing from squeezing your pants to a more gentle cradle of your hips.

“you know,” he swallowed thickly— as if his throat could even dry out, likely just a natural reflex— “you got a way of makin’ fixin’ me up feel real special.”

the slight waver to his voice isn’t lost on your ears— it was quite loud in them, actually.

“i’m hangin’ in fine, don’t worry your pretty head none.”

carefully retracting your tweezers, you stood up straight enough to lightly push his hat up, giving view to his face and cupping your hand over a blue-hued cheek.

“wanna take a break?” 

he nearly had to clutch his chest with the gentle concern that laced your tone.

boothill knew he was flushed, was purposefully avoiding looking you in the eye because a few pokes to some sensitive spots had him sliding his hands to your waist like a lifeline— not that what he could distantly feel of your skin against the synthesised nerves of his palms weren’t doing much to cool him off anyway. but he did…relax, somewhat. 

he always enjoyed when you’d touch his face, getting to feel all the unique little details of you; the gentle drum of your pulse and the little calluses from your tools. it somehow always manages to make the tension in his body ebb away, draining with an exhale that lightly fans against your wrist.

he shook his head with a quiet clear of his throat— another unnecessary function that served more as a tick than anything.

“nah, nah i’m alright.” he assured. it didn’t make him any less embarrassed to be having such a reaction. 

big bad criminal until you get a little too fudgin’ touchy, apparently.

“let’s just get this finished up, yeah? maybe we can move onto somethin’ more pleasant.”

your thumb gave two gentle taps to his cheekbone before it pulled away, reaching for your tweezers for the nth time.

“that’s my boy.”

oh how boothill’s chest bloomed at the simple praise, the endearing ‘my’ that slipped in with it licking up his ribs and curling to rest along where a drumming heart should have been.

“jus’ be gentle with me, will ya sugar plum?”

“you know i've always got ya.”

each plug or untangle of a little yellow or red cable had his systems humming, fingers occasionally curling into your hips every time a little surge left him biting his cheek a little harder.

“we’re almost done,” your voice is icing on an already cavity-inducing cake, though he’ll gladly take a toothache if it’s for you. “just a little longer.”

boothill was going fist to fist and losing with the urge to completely melt under your deft fingers.

“…keep talkin’ to me,” he requested with a murmurmurmur, cautious not to move too much. “helps me stay on t—” he had to bite back another whimper, cheek going between his teeth and eyes going to the ceiling. “—task.”

boothill didn’t miss the little tug of your lips.

“you know, you do this thing when you get shy.” you mused quietly, breath meeting the shell of his ear. “you bite your cheek ‘n look away. it’s cute.”

boothill couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle at your deduction. he tried to regain some of his composure, though the colour in his cheeks continued to betray him.

“i don’t know ‘bout shy,” he rumbled, keeping his voice steady as he could. “but i’ll take cute if it means i get to hear you keep sweet talkin’ me. keep this up and i might start enjoyin’ these repairs a lil too much.”

his voice was a little strained, though still held his usual humour.

“like you don’t love em already.” you teased back, gently closing the panel on his neck as it re-sealed with a small hiss. “you get all excited for me to fix you up, call you a good boy and send you on your merry way.”

“i’m still waitin’ on that last bit, y’know?”

you shook your head, popping his hat off his head and placing it on your own.

“good boy,” you pinched his cheek endearingly. “you’re all done. do you want a lolipop too?”

“think i deserve somethin’ a lil sweeter than a lolipop, don’t you sugar?” boothill’s face unknowingly deepens at the sight of you in his hat, brave words betrayed by a nervous tap in his finger and more blue to the apples of his cheeks.

“we’ll save it for when you’ve got a real booboo,” you took his hat off, using the brim to lightly tilt his chin up and give him a tender kiss on the cheek. for such a heavy hunk of metal, he nearly began to float.

“but there’s something to hold your sweet tooth for now.”

…

“boothill?”

“y..yeah, sweet pea?”

“you’re overheating.”

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[satoruhour]

oh my god, i dont know if you write for this specifically (feel free to disregard if you don’t), but I’ve been thinking about satosugu x reader,,, imagine kissing the both of them!! spending a nice summer day with them!! just being able to enjoy spending time with the two of them!! I dont know if its my love for both of these characters and their relationship, but i just like thinking abt that dynamic,,,

a/n: wrote this yesterday to upload today since it was a loaded day today ❤️ enjoy. hope it’s up to standard cause i havent written fluff in a long time! / 1.3k, poly!satosugu x reader

sleep-ins were popular amongst the three of you. before you, suguru had his own routine of waking up early to brew some tea for himself, to get the laundry going . .

satoru, on his own, was a light sleeper, sitting straight up at any hint of sound due to his sorcerer duties but after moving in with geto, he’s been letting the long-haired man to do all the work.

and here came you, waltzing back into their lives (and apartment) after teaching at kyoto for just a few months until you couldn’t stand gakuganji and headed right back to your alma mater.

it wasn’t difficult to maintain the dynamic the three of you had from your school days, except maybe unspoken feelings and lingering glances until the two men were gassing each other up to ask you.

you’re not even sure how you even got roped in — old feelings, a crave for the younger days, the allure of satoru, the wonder of suguru — but now you’re stick in between both of them wanting to pee so badly.

alas, your body is trapped under gojo’s protective leg and geto’s gentler wrapped arm, but you still feel your bladder about to burst, trying one last time until your body is slammed back into bed.

“hm . . what’re you doing?” is gojo’s first raspy call out to you as he curls his calf around you even more, and you sigh, turning to him to brush his fringe from his face.

“i need to pee, satoru.”

“no.” and you roll your eyes because he’s always whiny like that and you’d usually employ suguru to do your bidding but he’s fast asleep, still. this was another thing: both you and gojo have inextricably fucked with his routine because now he’s more inclined to sleep in than drink his morning tea. he realised this one day when he was doing laundry, in the afternoon.

“’toru, pleeaasee?” you pout even if he can’t see and like a good boyfriend, he senses your features pulled into a face specifically meant to make him feel bad, and cracks his eyes open.

“oh, youuuu—” gojo scrunches up his eyes and squeezes, and then steals you from geto’s arm, trapping you with tight arms wound around your middle, “stop it with the eyes!”

you giggle, using your free hands to relax the tightness in his brows, using that opportunity to forcibly open his eyes and then you hit him again — knitted eyebrows and doe eyes, and a perfect pout that has gojo grumbling under his breath. silently, you wiggle yourself just enough to reach his face so you can place a peck on his lips and he hums.

another, his eyes say and you indulge him, sinking into his embrace and letting him guide you back to his mouth. morning breath is nothing to the both of you, grinning into the kiss when satoru loses himself and his embrace starts to loosen. the kiss still holds you captive, though, the other moaning softly when you deepen it with some tongue.

“you’re just going to leave me hangin’?” geto’s voice calls out from beside you, and gojo’s excited suguru! gives you just that sliver of time to slip away from the two as they catch up but—

“you’re not going anywhere, missus,” gojo pulls on your arm and you’re falling back into your space in the middle of the both of them, greeted with geto’s lovely laugh and his gentle gaze.

“good morning my loves,” he says, arm draped over the both of you before he leans down to give you a kiss while gojo replies with a good morning as well, also giving a peck to your temple. “what’s on the agenda today?”

“lazing in—”

“i need to pee, firstly,” you pipe up, cutting gojo off and patting his puffed out cheeks. grabbing his face, you wiggle his head just to emphasise your point, “your man here has been preventing me from going to the bathroom.”

“ahem! our man,” gojo corrects, sticking his tongue out just enough to lick your hand and you shriek in disgust while his giggles only fill the room.

“satoru, c’mon, let her go.” and again, the other only cuddles you closer to him, long, lanky limbs trapping your body. geto has a hand on yours like he’s trying his best to console you.

“but— she’s so much nicer to cuddle! did i ever tell you suguru once hit me in the face with his arm?”

and you laugh while the other only sighs and chaos erupts once he stands up and says in faux disappointment — “okay, i’m making breakfast for myself only. guess i lost two partners today.”

“hello?! i didn’t even do anything!” you shout in incredulity, words muffled once gojo slaps a hand over your mouth and laughs, watching through the bathroom mirror at how he chuckles at the both of you. you lick gojo’s hand and he moans obnoxiously.

geto did end up making the both of you some breakfast after some convincing (it was mostly gojo yelling “pleasepleaseplease” in the bathroom and interrupting brushing teeth time), but he’s got around it with a sloppy kiss given to the both of you, sat at the wooden table you commissioned — large enough to bring friends over but small enough for it to feel intimate with your two boyfriends.

“on the real agenda, we need to go for some grocery shopping,” geto suggests, reaching diagonally to you to wipe off the bits of strawberry lingering at the corner of your lips and gojo shouts a loud oh!, running from the table to grab his phone that he’s left on the bedside table. naturally, he has become so enamoured with the both of you that he doesn’t even need his phone to entertain him that much.

“i made the list like you asked, sugu,” and you’re giggling when you see his eyebrow raise, positive that on the list, there was more of what the house didn’t need than what it did.

silently, you’re helping to clear all three of your plates that had coatings of maple syrup on it, apart from gojo’s who licked his squeaky clean. a smile spreads across your face when you hear them bicker, a common occurrence.

“baby, there’s more candy than actual groceries on here.”

“but suguruuuu . .” gojo pulls this all the time and it hardly works on geto any more, so the both of them invade your cleaning escapades to argue. like the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other, satoru sucks up to your boyfriend, suguru appeals to you.

“should we listen to him?” leaning against the counter, geto rests his arm around your torso, sidling right up to your face who only gives him a small grin.

gojo follows suit. “sweetness, don’t listen to him. you know you love the sweets i buy, i’ll even buy you your favourite brand!”

here in this kitchen in the house that gojo had no problem expanding to accommodate the both of you were all that you know in this mess of a world, destined to exorcise curses for as long as you live, but it wasn’t so bad when you had the strongest duo beside you, talking over each other on whether meiji chocolate was more important than buying celery for tonight’s dinner. 

“boys.” turning off the tap, you shake off the water and turn around in their arms only to see what had escalated: geto ready to summon a curse, gojo crossing his fingers in his muryōkūsho pose, all the while keeping an arm around you like everything’s fine. and as chaotic dating the both of them were, you don’t mind putting both their hands down and calming the situation down.

with a laugh, you give one kiss to both cheeks. “let’s just buy both, okay?”

and satoru leaps to hug you, planting endless kisses on your face while suguru sighs, then smiles, defeated. “plus, we can just make ’toru pay for everything, can’t we?”

“and then make him cook tonight.” you suggest, not-so-quietly.

gojo stops, “hey!”

i didnt write the grocery shopping part since i alr rambled off about it here but maybe next time we’ll see :)

[lordgrimoire]

A little text ficlet, inspired by Danny being the Wayne’s driver prompt by @stealingyourbones

Danny: What do you mean your in the ruins of Krypton?

Tim: I don’t know man! We’re just, stuck, it’s weird, Connors not doing so hot and while the ship is dead we still have radiation protection for now.

Danny: Give me five, I know a guy.

-Five Minutes Later-

(Knock knock)

???: Pizza Time!

Tim: who?

???: Howdy! Danny said y’all needed a ride? I’m Johnny, was hangin around here since I’m helping figure out Krypton’s scattered ghost problem.

Tim: (opens door camera to see a scraggly blonde teen leaning on a motorbike floating next to the ship) uuuuh.

Johnny 13: Sup! Want me to hook up to the front or back tow ya? It’ll take a few hours to get back to earth.

Tim: The front please, is there a way for us to talk to you without you having to shout?

Johnny 13: Yup! Danny should have sent you my number, I’ll hook ya into my helmet.

(Johnny 13 would be tasked with teaching inter dimensional and long term travel tactics at League seminars for the next two months, he was allowed to break all of Gotham’s traffic laws once a piece.)

[banj0possum]

Can we get a zombie horde with a gn! Reader where their abusive family finds them again?

after years of inactivity im fucking back ! sorry for the long long wait but at least im able to put out a few more fics !

Zombie Horde!Reader's Abusive Family Finds Them Again

CW: verbal abuse, abusive family, (mentioned) being rejected food

💀 You haven't always been alone in your travels, in fact, you were with your family when the outbreak happened. But to be fair, you never liked your family..

💀 They would always bully you, boss you around, even put the blame on you whenever something bad happened, the torment didn't end even when there were zombies banging on your doors!

💀 In fact, because of the virus, they got even more cruel to you.

💀 They would take away your food rations for any small mistake you did, make you take the night watch for days on end, even send you out to get supplies just because 'you talked back that one time'!

💀 You couldn't take it anymore and left, knowing anywhere would be better than being stuck in a house of people who did nothing but torture you.

💀 You thought you were safe from them, cuddled up with Ribs in your bed as the others wandered around the abandoned mall, but it all came back when you heard a familiar voice shout out your name from the distance..

💀 "(Y/N)?! I know you're here you runt!"

💀 It was your dad...

💀 Ribs sat up as soon as he heard it and snarled, crawling out of bed and going out to see the commotion.

💀 Your heart raced as you followed him, but it was hard to walk with your body trembling at the thought of seeing him or any of your family again.

💀 "Jesus there's four of them!" "What are you waiting for you stupid bitch?! Shoot em!"

💀 It seems your mom was also there..

💀 You run the broken escalator and see the horde fighting with your family, gunshots ring throughout the mall as you see your beloveds blasted with bullets.

💀 You weren't scared though, they were dead after all, but it was still heartbreaking seeing them get hurt.

💀 You pick up a nearby rock and throw it at your dad to get his attention away from the boys. They all look at you, your family glaring at you while the horde coos at your presence.

💀 "(Y/N) you come here right this fucking second we're coming home!" Your mother shouts at you, walking over angrily and grabbing your arm strong enough to leave a red ring.

💀 Bo fumes and pulls her of you "You stay away from my mate ya hear me?!" he growls.

💀 "It talks?!" She yelps as your dad comes over as well. "Mate? Don't tell me you're hangin out with these monsters! Are you that much of a dumbass?!" he scolds you.

💀 You shrink, knowing whatever you say will make things worse..

💀 "Why you little whore.." Your dad growls, about to slap you, but Screw runs over and pushes your dad away, sending him back a few feet.

💀 Ribs and Soda smile and clap as Bo and Screw help you up.

💀 "You ok darlin?" Bo asks you in a sweet tone. "Is your arm ok? Does is hurt? Do you need a bandaid? I have a pink one with a cat on it.." Screw looks at the mark your mother gave you.

💀 You smile and assure them everything's ok.

💀 "Fucking freaks..(Y/N) do you hear me?! Get your ass up and let's go!" Your dad yells at you again as he stand up.

💀 "They're not going anywhere mean guy!" Ribs growls at him.

💀 Your mom is to the side next to Soda, she sneers at him and he looks back at her, giving her the middle finger, making her scoff and look away.

💀 In a shaky tone, you ask how they found you. You've cut off contact with them for months, there was no way they could find you..

💀 "Hah! Your dumbass thought you were just some person in the middle of nowhere? Half the state knows about your little talkin freak boyfriends!"

💀 You look down in shame as Bo and Screw comfort you "I think it's about time you folks leave..." Bo says, glaring at your parents.

💀 "Oh no you're not kicking us out! We came all this way to get this ungrateful little leech back! We gave them shelter and this is how they repay us?! You should've learned your place and stayed put!" he berates you. You finally snap and yell back at him, telling him all the things you've endured in their household, how you were treated like dirt every day, how you were much better off without them.

💀 Finally you firmly tell them to leave, pointing to the exit as you look at him with no fear left in your eyes. He scoffs "Fine..go get killed on your own then! Don't come to us for any fucking help!" he yells as he leaves, your mom in tow.

💀 Ribs laughs at them as they leave while Soda smiles at you.

💀 After the whole interaction, you were completely exhausted, the boys huddling up with you to calm you down.

💀 You give them all well-deserved kisses for protecting you, they all coo and chirp at the affection and kiss you back.

💀 "Do you still want that bandaid?" Screw asks you softly.

💀 You say yes.

this one was pretty short but expect more fics to be sent soon ! love you guys and remember that youre awesome and amazing !

[lowkeyrobin]

Hi sorry if im annoying u but can u do a james hook x reader story . I kenda want the reder to be the dugther of peter pan and hook fell in love whit her.

no need to worry! you're totally fine haha ; but yeah of course I could! ; I decided to make the reader a kind of relative to Peter (sibling/cousin at least) cause age differences and whatnot, even though Peter stays a kid forever, I still didn't wanna do smthn weird lolll but dw I got you ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; also I only write they/them / gn readers but I tried to keep readers gender identity pretty in the middle and stuff so

JAMES HOOK ; star crossed lovers

summary ; you and hook fall for each other, your love forbidden as he was a vk, and you were an ak

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; reader can fly & uses pixie dust like peter pan

word count ; 1.1k

masterlist

Hook's eyes land on you from afar, watching as you sprinkle pixie dust upon Bridget and Ella. They had been begging you to let them try out flying, and you'd finally given in halfway through today.

He peers past the concrete wall into the courtyard, watching you three fly about, or really, watch you try to help your friends learn how to fly how you do. You giggle, bouncing back as you practically swim in air, watching them struggle to control themselves. It wasn't as easy as it looked.

"Whoever can fly to class faster wins!" Bridget laughs, looking over at Ella.

"Oh, you're on!" She smiles, dashing toward the nearest doors as fast as she could, attempting to beat Bridget.

Bridget was definitely better at the flight thing, but Ella had speed. You'd have to check in with them later, considering your class was in the opposite direction.

Hook, seeing you were now alone, casually walks toward you, having popped out of nowhere as you watch Ella and Bridget soar past the windows and eventually disappear. He tilts his head as he looks up at you, trying to read you somehow, from behind. You turn around, jumping back in slight fear and surprise.

"Uhm, hello!-" You awkwardly smile, floating a above the ground, making yourself a foot taller than him. You recognize him, knowing he's a VK.

"What's with the eh-" He looks you up and down, "Floaty thing?"

You glance around and shrug. "I dunno. Just kinda... born like that"

He nods, posing no threat. "Cool"

You subtly raise an eyebrow. "You think?"

"Yeah," He chuckles. "Got any more of that fairy dust?" He asks, referring to the magical golden dust that enchanted its victims with flight.

"Pixie dust," you correct. "But, yeah. Why?"

"You do flying classes?" He asks, a soft expression on his face, one of curiosity, craving adventure.

Your cautious expression quickly fades to one of happiness, a smile curling the corners of your lips up. "For you, I guess"

He smiles, watching as you dig into your pocket and sprinkle him in the glittering gold powder. His feet slowly depart from the floor, his arms quickly reaching out to you in fear.

You jump back to avoid his hooked hand, but realized that this was more like teaching a kid how to ride a bike rather than he wanted to hurt you. You reach for his in-tact hand, pulling him closer to you, laughter escaping your lips as he front flips a few times.

"This isn't funny!"

"Yeah, it is!"

He clings onto you, not liking gravity not pulling him down to the ground.

"What're you so scared for?" You chuckle as you question him. "You a pussy?"

"No!" He quickly pushes away from you, needing to keep his tough guy VK coat on in front of you, reminding himself that you weren't one of his friends. "It's very hard to keep balance!" He exclaims as he falls backward to hang upside down. He flails his arms, returning right side up.

"What's your name?" You ask, stifling a laugh as you watch.

"Hook. James Hook"

"Cause the hook, I'm guessing?"

It'd been a few days since you'd last seen James Hook, your mind constantly trying to find an answer to why he wanted to try the pixie dust and why he spent nearly an hour hanging out with you to try and learn to fly. Maybe he was forming some sort of plan. Maybe you shouldn't speak to him again, maybe he was bad just like the other VKs. Maybe you should stop trusting everyone-

"Hey Y/n," James smiles, appearing from behind you, hand quickly jumping to your shoulder.

You jump, looking back at him as you sit under a tree in the front yard of Merlin's Academy.

"Hey, Hook" You answer, looking back down at your textbook.

He raises an eyebrow, looking down at your spell casting book. "You can call me James"

"Hey, James," you repeat, correcting yourself. "What's up?"

He shrugs. "I was going to ask you that"

He slides down the tree, sitting next to you. "I saw your little stunt earlier in the library." he smiles. "You're a trickster, hm?"

You lightly smile. "Yeah."

"Little sprinkle of that dust and watching people try to fly is amusing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, kinda. Especially when it's assholes" You reply, referring to his VK friends.

He chuckles. "It was funny, really. I like you, you have a sense of humor."

"Y'know," You speak, looking up at him. "My shadow is it's own being, it spies"

He raises an eyebrow. You glance back at the tree you rest your back upon, showing him your shadow standing above you, hands on their hips. He jumps for a moment, looking back at you.

"I don't lie, James" You shrug, watching as the shadow attempts to push you two together. You roll your eyes. "They want us to kiss"

James glances between you and the shadow, face growing red. "I mean, a lot of people call me James-"

"It's not about that." You sigh. "Little mischievous bitch thought you falling into my arms the other day was 'adorable'. You have a crush on me or something, apparently, according to them"

He blinks and shrugs. "I mean, they're not totally wrong." He smiles awkwardly wide, looking for validation. He breaks, disturbed by your silence. "I'd love to be friends with you, at least. You're very intriguing and humorous, and-"

You quickly cut him off. "What? We can't, we can't be friends. You're a VK"

His expression quickly falters as he realizes the predicament.

"But... I shouldn't deny that I feel the same way about you"

He blinks, confused and slightly caught off gaurd. "What are you getting at here?"

"We're star-crossed lovers." You speak dramatically. "We can't be together, yet there's something pulling us together. Even if it's just a silly little crush or infatuation"

He nods. "Can we at least be friends? I promise you, love, I'm not as evil as it seems."

Yeah, friends was an awful word to use when describing you and the infamous James Hook.

Someone call up Anne Marie...

Over the course of the next few months, you and Hook had become true star-crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet, bound by love, separated by fate. The constellations aligned but the stars between you and James never did.

You wondered why you had to be separated by social norms, why you couldn't be with him because he was a villain. If James was a villain, then you were too for your pranks, there was nothing fair about it.

Even though you'd sucked yourself into a little world of your own, he was there by your side, loving your lips behind closed doors and confined spaces so you wouldn't be caught. God, no one would ever forget it if they found out. A VK and an AK together? The world might as well have ended.

You fly through the forest with James, his fingers tangled in yours as you swiftly pull him along.

"Y/n, slow down!"

"I'm not even going fast, you're going slow!"

[auras-moonstone]

Hi! Can I request one with non gf Ethan, he and reader are dating and it's his birthday and maybe his family never made a big deal about it but reader goes all out, she hangs balloons on his dorm, gets him a cake and some presents maybe she skipped classes that day so he hasn't seen her and then Ethan goes to his room and sees everything and it's all cute and fluffy cause y'know it's Ethan he'd probably cry

birthday themed cause… today’s my birthday yayy !

big cake, happy birthday — ethan landry

word count: 1.1k

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: knowing that his boyfriend never had the birthdays he deserved, y/n makes a surprise party for ethan.

contents: family neglect? new-found family. y/n being a bit too much. emotional ethan. chaotic group dynamic.

y/n was on a mission to make this the best birthday ethan has ever had. she wanted everything to be perfect, and she ordered her friends around to make sure it turned out that way. to put it mildly, y/n was not the group’s favorite person that day.

“y/n i swear to fucking god if you yell at me one more time.” tara said annoyed.

the frustrated girlfriend sighed and took deep breaths. “you’re right. i’m sorry, guys. i just… they never cared, you know. it was never about him, not even on his birthday. i want to make sure that changes from now on. i want him to know how special and loved he is. i want this to be flawless.”

the group exchanged glances. chad nearly cried. “it’s okay.” tara said softly. “you’re a great girlfriend, y/n/n. a great person.”

“thanks.” she smiled. “but it still wasn’t okay of me to yell and get so bossy. you guys can go now, i’m going to skip classes. you’ve done more than enough.”

“are you sure?” mindy asked.

y/n nodded. “yeah, i’ll just finish the decorations and make the cake. you distract eth, don’t make him feel alone, okay? spoil him. and no smartass comments towards him today, mindy.”

the girl rolled her eyes and the group headed out. “how did she manage to make us feel guilty for calling her out on her bossy behaviour?” chad asked confused.

“i don’t know, but fuck if that wasn’t the cutest speech i’ve ever heard.” anika said, shaking her head.

ethan really appreciated his friends company, they had made him feel special all day, but he really really really missed his girlfriend. he wanted special attention from her, and he hadn’t seen her in more than twelve hours.

when he noticed she missed her first class, he immediately sent her a text asking what was wrong and she replied saying she had terrible cramps so she was going to skip uni. it put a pout on his face, but he understood and told her he would go to her house later with ice cream and a heating pad.

“so, are you doing anything special?” chad asked him as they made their way to their dorm.

“i’m going to take a shower and then head to y/n’s. we’re having dinner at her house, she’s not feeling well.”

well, no. if this morning was any indication, she was probably having the most stressful of days, thought chad. he hadn’t seen someone care so much about a person like y/n cared about ethan.

when they were one block away, chad subtlety sent y/n a text telling her they were close. the girl’s heart started going wild in nervousness.

“fuck, they’re coming. everyone hide!” y/n yelled.

“we’re right beside you.” mindy muttered under her breath.

“leave her alone.” anika muttered, dragging her girlfriend to the hiding spot.

chad unlocked the front door and let ethan go in first. he turned on the lights and was stunned by shouts of surprise!

the group greeted him with a hug and a happy birthday, and the guy could only mutter low thank you’s, completely overwhelmed with appreciation.

y/n put a birthday hat on him with a joyful smile. “happy birthday, babe. did we surprise you?”

his eyes got glossy, and for a moment, y/n panicked. but then ethan smiled, making a few tears fall. “you all did this for me?” he asked looking around. there were balloons everywhere, warm fairy lights hanging behind a table filled with food and colourful letters sticked to the wall that read happy birthday.

“of course.” y/n said softly, pressing one short kiss on his lips.

“it was mostly y/n, not gonna lie. she has been working on this the whole day.” chad spoke up, wanting her to have the credit she deserved.

“thank you, guys. this is… more than perfect.” ethan went to give every each of them a hug. when he reached y/n, he completely broke down. “i love you so much. thank you. you didn’t have to do all this.”

“i just want you to know how much you mean to us. how much we love you.” she rested her forehead against his. “i’m so lucky to have you in my life. this little party? this is the least i could do to show you how special you are.”

“you make me feel special everyday, y/n/n.” he whispered as she cleaned his tears.

“fuck, the yelling and the mistreatment were totally worth it. this is so wholesome.” chad said looking at his love-sick best friends.

y/n rolled her eyes. “look, just in my defense, you were all being kind of lazy. honestly, i just asked you to hang up the fairy lights and the garlands. you don’t need an hour and a half to do that!”

“but you were a little on edge today.” tara said.

“and insufferable.” mindy added.

“i was not!” y/n frowned.

“you texted us every thirty minutes to ask us how ethan was doing.” mindy retorted.

“can you blame me? i was guilty for not being there the whole day. i didn’t want him to feel sad about it.” she defended herself, hugging her boyfriend tightly.

“she’s making us feel like assholes again.” chad whispered to tara.

ethan laughed. “leave my stressed girlfriend alone.” he kissed her cheek. “i love you even when you’re bossy, on edge and insufferable.”

y/n let out a chuckle and snuggled into his chest. “i love you too.”

“he gives you a back-handed compliment and gets cuddles?” mindy asked offended.

y/n shrugged. “it only matters that he said he loves me.”

“i hate you both.” mindy rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on her face. even she couldn’t deny they were the cutest couple.

“i love you, guys. this is the best birthday ever.” he said happily.

when it was time to blow the candles, ethan looked around and his heart had never felt warmer—his chosen chaotic family gathered around buzzing with excitement, was there anything else he could wish for? there was only one thing that came to mind: please, never take them away from me.

“group hug!” y/n yelled when the candles were blown, and next thing he knew he was being tackled to the ground. “happy birthday, eth. i love you forever.”

“i love you forever too.” he pecked her lips.

“ew! not with us above you!” sam snickered.

“do you have to be lovey all the damn time?” mindy gagged.

with the love of her life in his arms and the sound of their friends making fun of them and acting annoyed, ethan had never felt happier.

[sweets-library]

care and consequence

Shouta Aizawa/reader. hurt/comfort. wc: 7.9k.

READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. DO NOT READ THIS IF THEY DO NOT APPEAL TO YOU. 18+ content warnings: spanking, improper use of a hairbrush, punishment, heavy use of daddy as a title, heavy themes of discipline and D/S dynamics

a/n: holy shit guys, the reception on that last one was actually insane, thank you all so much! i hope you guys like this one too, I'm sorry it took so long! i have a lot of personal life drama going on rn, plus I'm sick again :/ anyways, enjoy and strap in, its a long one! ao3

-

You had regretted coming to the bar about an hour ago, though you’d never admit it. The music thrummed in your chest, matching the relentless pounding in your head. Around you, people were dancing, drinking, and laughing, lost in their own worlds. As much as you wanted to join in, your body felt like it was rebelling against you. Still, you clung to the idea that one more drink might just do the trick.

Navigating through the chaotic sea of heroes, you pushed your way to the bar and ordered a vodka cranberry with a shot on the side. Your last drink had taken a while to finish, but this one? This one needed to count. The bartender turned away, and just as you started to feel the room sway, the door flew open with a booming, "WHAT IS UP, PARTY PEOPLEEEEE!"

Ah, Mic made it!. He had been unsure if he could, with the radio show’s schedule, but he must’ve handed the reins to someone else to show up fashionably late. You watched as he carved a path through the crowd, greeting everyone with that infectious energy, before you turned your attention back to your drinks. Downing the shot in one swift motion, you grabbed your cocktail, setting your sights on Nemuri.

You found her in conversation with Kamui Woods and Mount Lady, her laughter carrying over the din. Sliding up beside her, you felt the brush of her nails as she pinched your side with a knowing grin. Without missing a beat, she continued chatting, but you knew she had clocked you. You were happy to wait, sipping your drink and letting its warmth spread through you, barely tuning into the conversation until Nemuri said her goodbyes.

She grabbed your hand, giggling as she pulled you onto the dance floor, and you let her lead—hoping the music might drown out how unwell you felt.

As the tequila and vodka settled into your veins, the world around you softened into a hazy blur of neon lights and pulsing bass. The club was packed, bodies moving in sync with the heavy beat that rattled the floor beneath your feet. Strobe lights flickered overhead, casting quick flashes of colour across the writhing crowd, while smoke machines filled the air with a thin mist that clung to your skin. The music was loud, so loud that it vibrated through your chest, matching the heat rising in your cheeks.

You finally started to feel it, the carefree buzz you’d been chasing all night. The alcohol loosened your limbs, and you let yourself get lost in whatever dirty, hypnotic rhythm Nemuri was dragging you into. Around you, people shouted over the music, laughed too loudly, and clinked glasses at the bar. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, spilled drinks, and the faint hint of perfume mingling with something more electric. It was the kind of energy that pulled you in deeper, making everything else fade away.

A few songs passed in a blur of flashing lights and sweaty bodies. You floated from partner to partner, dancing with Thirteen, Snipe, and Nemuri again, before you found yourself twirled straight into the arms of Present Mic.

“Zashi! Hi!” you practically shouted, grinning at him with the same excitement that buzzed through the room. It felt like he was the only one who hadn’t made it to the party yet, and now, everything was perfect. You could imagine him being stopped by every person on the way in, catching up and spreading his contagious energy.

“Heya, baby, how’s it hangin’?” he grinned, pulling you in so close you could feel the bass rumbling through his chest. But even here, his voice cut through the noise effortlessly.

“Soooo good! I love dancing, I’m so happy you came! Thought you’d get stuck at the station,” you gushed, letting the sway of the music carry you from foot to foot.

He laughed and gave you a playful dip, sending you squealing in delight as the room spun for a brief moment. But when he pulled you back up, his smile faltered as you coughed into your arm, the noise cutting through the music like a reminder that not everything was as smooth as the party felt.

“Gave one of the interns the mic for the night. She was over the moon to take it,” Hizashi said with a chuckle, leaning in closer to cut through the pounding music. His usual energy seemed slightly tempered, though his voice still carried effortlessly. He lowered his tone as he added, “Didn’t think you’d make it out tonight. Shouta told me earlier you weren’t feeling so hot.”

At the mention of your boyfriend, you scanned the room out of habit, already knowing he wasn’t there. This kind of scene was never his thing; too loud, too crowded. Besides, he had patrol tonight.

“Sho’s just paranoid. I’m fine, see?” you replied, brushing off the comment with a lighthearted twirl under Hizashi’s arm. The movement made your head spin a bit, but you ignored it, flashing him a grin as you let go of his hand, intent on heading back to the bar for another drink. Before you could get far, his arm looped around your waist, pulling you back gently but firmly. 

“Hey, you trying to leave me all alone out here? This party’s not even close to over,” Hizashi laughed, his voice rising just above the thrum of the bass. You joined in his laughter, not noticing how, with each song, he subtly steered you away from the bar. The colours around you swirled in a kaleidoscope of neon lights, flickering across faces and catching in the smoke-filled air. Every beat seemed to vibrate through your body, keeping you in a daze of music, movement, and heat.

As the hours blurred, so did the people. Dance partners came and went, their faces brief ly illuminated by strobe lights before they disappeared back into the crowd. But through it all, Hizashi never left your side, keeping a playful hand on your shoulder or at your waist as if he were your lifeline in the chaotic sea of bodies.

Then, a slower song melted into the speakers, and the mood shifted. The lights dimmed to soft blues and purples, and the frenetic energy on the dance floor calmed. Hizashi took the opportunity to pull you close, his arm wrapping around you with a gentleness that felt comforting against the heat of the room. Your head fell naturally onto his shoulder as the world seemed to slow down for the first time that night. The sway of the music was soothing now, and the chatter around you dropped to a murmur.

Couples paired off, holding each other close, moving in time to the slow beat, while others used the moment to catch their breath. The heavy scent of spilled drinks, sweat, and perfume lingered in the air, but here, in Hizashi’s arms, you felt an odd sense of calm. You giggled softly as he whispered in your ear, making quiet jokes about the unlikely pairings that had formed on the dance floor. His voice was steady and warm, grounding you.

But then, he stopped abruptly. The sway of his body stilled, and you blinked, the moment interrupted. Confused, you lifted your head to look at him, but his attention was no longer on the dance floor.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I think your song’s been played out,” Hizashi said softly, his voice taking on a tone that felt more final than playful. You lifted your head to question him, confusion crossing your face, but before you could get a word out, he spun you around; right into the arms of someone new.

Or rather, someone far more familiar than you would have preferred.

“Shouta!” you gasped, looking up to find him staring down at you, his dark eyes narrowed in that way that instantly made you feel small. His gaze wasn’t angry, exactly, but there was a sharpness in it that cut through the fog of your drunken haze. You straightened up, biting your lip as emotions flashed across your face, impossible to hide in your current state.

“I thought you had patrol?” you asked, voice tinged with uncertainty.

“I finished early,” he said, his tone even but firm as he wrapped an arm around your waist. His grip was gentle, but the intention was clear as he began guiding you through the crowd and toward the door. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, wait, I gotta-” you started to protest, trying to twist out of his hold. But Shouta cut you off before you could finish, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“I paid your tab. You can see everyone another time,” Shouta said curtly, his voice as firm as his grip around your waist. The finality in his words made your chest tighten, but you huffed anyway, stubbornly digging in your heels.

“I promised Nemuri another dance, and I was gonna get another drink!” you protested, though the moment the words were out, you knew they were a mistake. Shouta’s gaze sharpened, his eyes darkening as they bore into you. It was a look that made your heart skip a beat and sent a nervous tremor down your spine. Your feet shuffled on instinct, your earlier defiance wilting under the heat of his stare.

“We are leaving right now, little girl,” he said, his tone low and deliberate. The words slid over you like a command, impossible to ignore. His hand drifted down to your ass, the touch firm and possessive, sending a shiver through your body. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he continued, “Unless you’d like to get a head start on your punishment in the bathroom. Here. And. Now.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, your breath catching in your throat. The heavy atmosphere of the club seemed to fade, the sound of the crowd growing distant. All that remained was the heat of his presence and the weight of his words. The tension coiled in your stomach, leaving you unsure whether to push back or submit.

“No… m’sorry. Let’s go,” you mumbled, your voice barely rising above the pulsing music, but your regretful look and the way you let him pull you along seemed to say enough. Once outside, the sudden quiet enveloped you, your ears ringing from the absence of sound. The contrast was jarring, but it was nothing compared to the weight of Shouta’s disappointment radiating off him like an invisible force.

He guided you to the car, and without even a hint of protest, you slid into the back seat. The cool leather felt grounding against your skin as he buckled you in silently, his focus unwavering. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable, as he leaned in, resting his hand on the headrest. His expression softened slightly, a hint of concern breaking through his earlier sternness.

“Do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?” he inquired, his voice steady yet laced with a quiet urgency. You shook your head, trying to muster a reassuring smile, though the flutter of anxiety in your stomach made it hard.

“Okay,” he replied, his gaze steady on yours. “Start drinking this.” He handed you a bottle of water, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I want at least half of it gone by the time we get home. And if you think you’re feeling sick, just tell me, and I’ll pull over.”

The seriousness in his voice made your heart race. You nodded, taking the bottle from him, the cool plastic a small comfort in the heated moment. As you unscrewed the cap, you could sense the shift in his demeanour. He was looking out for you, but there was a firmness in his words that reminded you of the line you’d crossed.

“Okay.” you mumble, staring at his chin to avoid the intensity of his eyes. He sighed and closed the door before climbing into the driver's seat and starting the journey home. The ride wasn't long but it was dead silent and it gave you enough time for some of the alcohol to wear off and the reminders that you were sick to kick in. 

Shouta, of course, knew you at the very least, had a bad cold. That morning, he had taken charge, insisting you call off work and ordering you to stay in bed. He had been so sweetly concerned and caring. He had meticulously arranged everything, ensuring you had enough food and medicine at hand. You could still picture him moving around the kitchen, checking in on you with a watchful eye, his brow slightly furrowed in that familiar expression of worry.

Throughout the afternoon, he had kept in touch, sending periodic texts to check on your well-being. Each notification was a reminder of how deeply he cared. The messages were gentle nudges, urging you to rest and take care of yourself. You could almost feel his presence with each ping, as if he were there beside you, coaxing you to indulge in soup and reminding you when to take the next dose of cold and flu medicine.

But as the hours slipped by and daylight faded into evening, the excitement of your friends celebrating the end of the semester began to tug at you. The allure of laughter and music beckoned from the outside world, tempting you to leave the cocoon of blankets and soothing remedies he had encouraged you to embrace. You hadn’t mentioned your plans to Shouta, knowing full well the firm stance he had taken. He had told you when he left for his night patrol that you were to be doing nothing for the rest of the night but resting and getting better. 

In a moment of weakness, you had chosen to ignore his guidance, allowing the crippling fear of missing out to get to you. Now, as the consequences of your decision loomed large, you felt a heavy weight settle in your chest, a blend of regret and dread creating a terrible cocktail with how awful you were already feeling physically.

As Shouta pulled into the driveway, the rush of emotions overwhelmed you. The tears welled up, unbidden and hot, as the guilt of your choices crashed over you like a wave. You hiccuped, desperately trying to swallow back the sobs, but it was futile. When he parked the car and came around to your door, you barely registered his movements, lost in your own turmoil. As soon as he opened the door, he unbuckled you and gathered you into his arms, cradling you against him. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, as he felt you trembling against him. “I know you’re not feeling too hot. Come on, let’s get you inside and into some comfy clothes. Does that sound good?”

You nodded against his shoulder, the gesture almost instinctual as the weight of your exhaustion settled in. With a gentle yet firm motion, he hoisted you out of the car, his strength reassuring. You instinctively wrapped your limbs around him like a koala, seeking the comfort of his embrace. He adjusted his hold, securing you against him effortlessly as he maneuvered to get the door open with one arm, not even considering putting you down for a moment. The night air was cool against your skin, but Shouta's warmth kept the chill at bay. As he carried you inside, you buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of him.

He took care of you mostly in silence, his hands moving with a practiced ease as he guided your movements. Gently, he slipped off your heels, his touch tender against your tired feet. Without a word, he helped you out of your dress, replacing the once-glamorous outfit with the softness of your favourite pajamas. His fingers were careful as he wiped away the makeup you'd used to hide the ruddiness in your cheeks and the shadows beneath your eyes, his brow creasing slightly as he worked, focused but gentle.

When he pressed the cool glass of water into your hands, you drank obediently, the quiet rustle of him preparing the medicine a comforting sound in the background. As he handed you the pills, his eyes softened, a silent reminder that he was looking out for you. After you’d swallowed them, he guided you to sit down at your vanity, still working methodically, brushing away the remnants of the night.

The makeup wipe brushed over your nose, tickling slightly, and despite the exhaustion and the lingering tipsiness, a small giggle escaped your lips. You leaned up, catching his eyes in the mirror, and smiled mischievously, asking for a kiss. He indulged you, pressing a brief, soft kiss to your lips before continuing, his attention shifting to your hair. The tender motions of his hands as he brushed it through were almost hypnotic, lulling you into a sense of calm as he completed your nighttime routine for you.

A thought bubbled up, slipping out before you could stop it. “How did you know where I was? Thought patrol didn’t end till 4?” you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur as he turned you to face the mirror. Catching his eyes in the reflection, you saw a flicker of irritation still lingering there, and the weight of it made you shy away. You broke eye contact, your gaze dropping to the clutter of items strewn across the vanity from earlier in the night.

“Hizashi texted me when he got there,” he replied quietly, his voice steady but tinged with that edge of disappointment. You couldn't help but pout at the mention of it, feeling the sting of being caught, of letting him down. The weight of his gaze lingered on you, but you felt his concern just as deeply, even in the silence between you.

“Tattle-tale,” you mumbled under your breath, but before you could sink too far into your pout, Shouta’s fingers tipped under your chin, gently but firmly, guiding you to meet his eyes in the mirror.

“He wouldn’t have to tattle if you hadn’t been misbehaving, would he?” His voice held that familiar grumble, a mix of irritation and concern that made your heart skip. You swallowed, feeling the weight of his gaze and the undeniable truth behind his words.

“No, sir,” you murmured, looking as contrite as you felt. His expression softened slightly, and he let out a quiet puff of air, almost a sigh, before pulling you up from the vanity.

With his hand steadying you, he guided you toward the bed, but your legs still wobbled beneath you. Dizzy, you tumbled onto the mattress, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you sank into the plush blankets. Shouta rolled his eyes, but there was a tenderness behind it, and with practiced care, he shifted you to the other side and tucked you in properly, smoothing the covers over you.

“Wait, Sho... you’re not... are you mad at me?” you asked, your voice suddenly small and sincere, cutting through the haze of your tipsiness. His brow furrowed at the question, and for a moment, you held your breath, waiting for his answer.

“No, baby, I’m not mad. We’ll talk tomorrow,” he assured you, his voice softer now. He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his lips lingering for a moment before he straightened up. Rounding the bed, he moved to his side, slipping in beside you.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that conversation tomorrow wasn’t going to be a pleasant one. But as Shouta’s strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you close against his chest, the heaviness of the night melted away. His familiar scent, the steady beat of his heart, and the warmth of his body drowned out any lingering bad feelings. For now, wrapped up in him, everything felt right, and you let yourself drift into the comfort of sleep.

-

The morning greeted you with a vengeance, leaving you feeling every bit as awful as you feared. Your head throbbed with a dull, relentless ache, your sinuses were stuffed to the brim, and your body felt clammy and weak, so much more wrung out than you had been jus the day before. Groaning, you burrowed deeper into the blankets, hiding from the sunlight streaming through the windows. Despite the warmth of the covers, a bone-deep chill had taken root, making you shiver as you curled in on yourself.

“Wake up, baby. You have to take some medicine.” Shouta’s voice, calm and resolute, pierced your cocoon of self-pity. You whined in response, a pitiful sound muffled by the blankets.

“M’sleeping. No thanks,” you muttered petulantly, half-hoping he’d let it slide. Usually, this was when you’d hear him chuckle softly, maybe feel the comforting weight of his hand on your thigh as he gave you a few more moments to stir.

Instead, the covers were suddenly pulled back from your face, exposing you to the cool morning air and making you gasp at the loss of warmth. The sudden brightness forced your eyes to flutter open, though they quickly squinted against the light. Before you could protest, Shouta’s hand was on your face, gentle and deliberate, as he smoothed the strands of damp hair plastered to your clammy skin. The touch sent a shiver through you, the tenderness soothing away your irritation.

His expression hovered between stern and soft, his dark eyes scanning your flushed, pale face with an almost clinical precision. You could feel the weight of his worry as he brushed his thumb over your temple. Despite your exhaustion, guilt pooled in your chest, mingling with the sickness that had you pinned to the bed.

“It wasn’t really a request. Come on, sit up.” His voice was calm, but there was no mistaking the firmness behind it. Before you could muster a protest, his strong hands slipped under your back and shoulders, lifting you with ease. The sudden shift left you disoriented, and before you knew it, you were propped up against the headboard.

Two pills rested on the palm he held in front of your face, his dark eyes steady and expectant. “Open,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. Something in the commanding gentleness of his voice had you obeying instinctively, parting your lips without hesitation. He placed the pills on your tongue, and you grimaced as you swallowed them with a few sips of the water he pressed to your lips.

Just as you moved to push the glass away, his hand caught yours, steadying it. “Finish this,” he said firmly, guiding it back toward your mouth. The weight of his worry lingered in the way his fingers stayed wrapped around yours, ensuring you drank more.

You managed another sip, your movements sluggish and reluctant, before he spoke again, his voice softening. “Are you hungry?”

You shook your head, too weary to form words, and he nodded in quiet acceptance. “Okay,” he murmured, taking the now half-empty glass from your hands and setting it on the bedside table. His fingers brushed against your knuckles briefly, grounding you in the moment. “You can sleep a little longer until the meds kick in. We’ll talk when you’re feeling a bit better.”

You gulped and cast your eyes downward, unable to meet his steady gaze. The words he didn’t say lingered in the air, unspoken but heavy, a reminder of the talk you’d hoped that you might avoid. Shouta, ever composed, didn’t press. Instead, his hand smoothed over your hair, the motion tender and familiar, as if to reassure you that his frustration didn’t mean he cared any less.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss between your brows, a soft, lingering gesture that made your chest tighten. It wasn’t fair how easily he could dissolve your guilt and stubbornness in a single moment of care. You couldn’t even summon the faintest trace of upset, not when his touch was so gentle, so grounding. Instead, your eyelids grew heavier, the pull of exhaustion impossible to resist. With a quiet sigh, you let yourself drift, surrendering to the lull of warmth and safety he left behind.

Time passed in a haze, unmeasured and weightless. When you woke again, the pounding in your head had dulled to a faint, manageable throb, and though your limbs still felt heavy, they no longer ached with the same intensity. The room was empty now, sunlight spilling through the windows in soft golden streaks that painted the walls and the rumpled sheets beside you. If Shouta hadn't insisted on taking some medicine earlier, the light would probably be giving you the worst of headaches, but instead, you were able to enjoy the warmth. Of course, Shouta was right, as always. It was no wonder you let him take the reins so often; he had a knack for knowing exactly what you needed, even when you couldn’t see it yourself. It went beyond simple intuition, it was deliberate and unwavering care. It was why you trusted him so deeply.

If you didn’t know that, if you couldn’t feel it in the way he cared for you, you wouldn’t be in this dynamic with him in the first place. You wouldn’t be sitting here now, heart pounding in the quiet aftermath, debating whether pretending to sleep a little longer might save you from the punishment just a little longer, or if it would only make things worse.

But even as your thoughts tangled with uncertainty, you knew you wouldn’t trade this for anything. For all the moments like these, where guilt and the weight of your mistakes pressed down on you, there was always the unwavering reassurance that Shouta would steady you. He’d take you in hand, reminding you in no uncertain terms just how much you mattered to him.

He wouldn’t tolerate behaviour that diminished your worth, not in his eyes, and not in your own. It wasn’t just discipline; it was care, deeply rooted and uncompromising. And when all was said and done, forgiveness would follow, that was never an uncertainty. With Shouta, there was no lingering doubt, no unspoken resentment, only the quiet, steady rhythm of love in its most honest form.

It was about more than letting go; it was about giving that trust to someone who cherished it, someone who didn’t just take care of you but found joy in doing so. And in turn, you found joy in being cared for. It could be terrifying sometimes, to put that kind of trust in someone, but with Shouta it had always felt worth it. 

You sigh and slide out of bed, resigned to your fate. The chill in the air bites at your skin, and the sickness still clings to you making you shiver. You rummage through the closet until your fingers find the familiar softness of one of Shouta’s sweaters. It’s an old crew neck, worn and slightly stretched out, big even on him and perfect for wrapping yourself in his warmth.

Pulling it over your head, you pad out to the living room on bare feet. The sight that greets you stops you in your tracks, drawing a soft, dreamy sigh from your lips.

Shouta is perched on the couch, papers spread across the coffee table in neat stacks. A faint furrow creases his brow as he grades with careful precision, the rhythmic scratch of his pen the only sound in the room. One of the cats is curled in his lap snoring, and a ray of sunlight streams through the window, bathing the scene in a golden glow that feels almost unreal. For a moment, you wonder if you’re still dreaming.

His sharp eyes flick up, catching yours as you linger in the doorway. Before he can say a word, you shuffle over and flop down beside him, burying yourself against his shoulder and letting your eyes drift closed again. The familiar scent of him wraps around you, as grounding as the weight of his presence.

“G’morning baby.” you sigh, and his arm curls around you to tug you to his side properly. 

“Good morning, my love. Feeling a little better?” he murmurs, his voice soft and low, vibrating gently against your ear. You nod, nestling closer into his shoulder, letting the comforting rhythm of his breathing soothe your lingering unease.

The two of you sit in companionable silence, the occasional scratch of his pen the only sound in the room. He finishes grading the last test on his stack, and you catch a glimpse of his expression as he marks something on the page. Oof. Poor kid.

You might have dozed off again if not for the fluttering unease in your stomach, a familiar mix of guilt and anticipation. The thought of the looming punishment makes it impossible to relax entirely, though Shouta’s calm presence keeps you from fully spiralling.

And then, as if he could read your mind, he sets the papers aside with a quiet sigh. The finality of it settles in your chest like a stone. He turns his face into your hair, his lips brushing against your temple as he speaks softly, a warmth and firmness interwoven in his tone.

“We need to have a talk, little girl.”

You bite your lip, the weight of his gaze settling heavily over you. A sigh escapes your lips as you try to find the right words. “I know. I’m sorry,” you murmur, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Shouta doesn’t immediately respond. He pulls back slightly, his eyes scanning your face, assessing. The silence stretches just long enough to make you squirm.

Finally, he exhales deeply, sitting back and crossing his arms. His posture is relaxed, but the intensity in his eyes keeps you rooted in place.

“Why?” he asks, his voice calm but piercing.

Your stomach churns. You know the answer, of course, you do, but the way he asks makes your guilt multiply. He doesn’t raise his voice; he doesn’t need to. You glance down at your lap, your fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on your pajama pants, anything to avoid the weight of his disappointment.

“For… for not listening,” you whisper, each word sticking in your throat. “And going out when you told me not to.”

“That’s correct,” he says, his tone steady but no less cutting. “But more broadly, I’m extremely not thrilled with your complete disregard for your own health and well-being.”

The words land with a precision that makes your chest ache.

He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his voice softening but still firm. “I love taking care of you. But part of that is making sure you take care of yourself when I’m not there. I need to trust that when I tell you to rest and recover, you’ll actually listen. Instead, you put yourself in harm’s way, and for what? A few hours of fun?”

His gaze locks onto yours, and the weight of his disappointment has you nodding mutely.

“And,” he continues, his voice sharpening, “I have never, and will never, tolerate you lying to me.”

Your head snaps up, a reflexive protest bubbling to the surface. “I didn’t lie—”

The glare he fixes you with stops the words dead in their tracks. It’s a look that leaves no room for negotiation.

“What did you say,” he asks, his voice low and measured, “when I told you to spend the night resting and recovering before I left for work?”

Your cheeks burn as you break eye contact. His stare feels like a spotlight, illuminating every guilty thought you’re trying to suppress. You shift uncomfortably, your voice trembling as you admit, “I… I said, ‘Yes, Daddy.’”

The silence that follows feels deafening. You dare a glance up at him, but his expression is unreadable. The weight of your admission hangs heavy in the air, and you shrink under the judgment you can feel emanating from him.

Finally, he sighs, the sound carrying more disappointment than anger. “You know what you did,” he says, each word deliberate. “Now it’s time to face the consequences.”

Your stomach twists, dread pooling in your chest. His tone is calm, almost gentle, but it carries a finality that leaves no room for debate.

“I wouldn’t normally punish you while you’re sick,” he continues, leaning back against the couch, his voice even. “But since you seem to think that being sick has no bearing on your decisions, I won’t let it affect mine either. Stand up.”

Your knees feel weak as you scramble to obey, rising unsteadily to your feet. Confusion flickers across your face- why not just pull you over his lap like usual? Why make you stand?

“Go and get the wooden hairbrush,” he says, his voice low and dispassionate, the command sending a shiver down your spine. “The flat, square one. And lose your pants on the way.”

Your gasp escapes before you can stop it, your hands instinctively clutching at the waistband of your pajama pants.

He doesn’t budge, his expression firm, his gaze unwavering. “You heard me.”

The room feels colder as you move, your steps hesitant. The gravity of the moment weighs heavily with each step you take toward the bedroom. Your heart races as you reach for the brush, the smooth wood cool against your palm. Sliding your pajama pants down your legs, you feel your cheeks burn with a mixture of shame and anticipation. You decide to take off the sweater as well, knowing Shouta would have you sweating soon.  

When you return to the living room, brush in hand and pants abandoned, Shouta’s eyes meet yours. His gaze softens slightly, a flicker of care visible beneath the stern exterior, but it does nothing to ease the butterflies raging in your stomach.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, gesturing for you to come closer. You obey silently, beyond arguing at this point. There would be no getting out of this, Shouta cares too much about you to let you get away with this. You hand over the brush and he places it on the arm of the couch, and then you fold yourself over his lap obediently. Without another word he folds your shirt up to expose the entirety of your backside, and places his hand on it, making you squirm with dread.

“Safeword?”

“Red” you whimper, accepting your fate.

He doesn't hesitate any longer, steadily applying his hand to your ass with all the restrained muscle of a pro hero, just hard enough to make sure you know exactly where you belong. The first few swats land on your bare ass, and you already want to start crying. And then he starts talking. 

“Let's go through each unfortunate choice you made yesterday, shall we?” he says, and you try not to tense up at his disappointed tone.

“First, you disobeyed me when I specifically told you to stay in bed while you weren't feeling well, and second, you lied to me and said that you would be home for the night. Third, you disregarded yourself and your health, which we will be going into great detail about with the hairbrush.”

As he laid out your actions, your ass got steadily reddened, and the tears started falling against your will. You fisted the fabric of the couch and willed yourself not to squirm, knowing it would only make things worse for you. 

Shouta’s voice was calm but carried the weight of unshakable authority, each word landing like a stone in your chest. “Do you think I asked you to stay home for no reason? That I ask you to listen to me for my own amusement?”

Your stomach churned at his tone, the disappointment in his voice far worse than any raised voice could have been.

“You trust me to know what’s best for you, and in turn, I trust you to be honest with me. I specifically told you to stay home, to rest and recover. Instead, I get a text from Hizashi that you’re out, you’re drinking, and completely ignoring what I asked of you. What if he hadn’t messaged me? What if I had come home to an empty house, no idea where you were, and no way to ensure you were safe?” 

The image his words painted made your chest tighten with guilt. You could hear the strain in his voice, the quiet upset that cut deeper than anger ever could. You knew how much this dynamic meant to him—not just as a way to care for you, but as a source of reassurance in a life that was chaotic and dangerous. Being a pro-hero came with enough unpredictability; this was one area of his life he could keep steady.

Even with that realization weighing heavy on your chest, you couldn’t help it. Against your better judgment, a pouty response escaped your lips, soft and stubborn, laced with defiance that you immediately regretted. 

“I was gonna be home before you got back—” The sharp crack of his hand meeting your thigh cut off your words with a yelp, the sting blooming as tears welled in your eyes. His hand rested firmly on the offended area, grounding you.

“That is not the point and you know it. You dont get to have a bratty attitude with me about this, or the hairbrush is going to be followed by a long time out in the corner for you to fix it. Am. I. Clear.” 

“Yes- ‘m sorry, I'm sorry sir.” you cry, your face soaked and dripping onto the cushion. 

“Hm. As I was saying, this will not be happening again. You misbehave, you get consequences. For the next two weeks, you will be in this house and in our bed by 9 p.m. sharp. If I’m not home, I expect a picture of you in bed, and then you will put your phone in my bedside table.”

The shame of his words was almost as unbearable as the sting still radiating from your thighs. You sobbed into the couch, mortified at the level of supervision he felt you required. “Yes, Daddy,” you whimpered, your voice hoarse.

“I am not playing about this,” he pressed on, his gaze unyielding. “If I find out you’ve stepped foot out of this apartment, you had better have a damn good reason—or you’ll find yourself right back here, no excuses. If you can’t take care of yourself on your own, I will do it for you.”

You nodded again, your sobs turning into shaky, uneven breaths. The shame was overwhelming, and yet you knew he wasn’t done.

As the spanks land, the force behind them pulls a sharp gasp from you, and each strike feels like a wave of guilt crashing over you. His words pierce through the haze of pain. "I think this way you might begin to understand how serious your actions are. His disappointment lingers in your chest, making it harder to breathe.

The spanks stopped for a moment, and you gasped, your body trembling as you tried to catch your breath. Shouta’s hands, firm and unyielding just moments ago, softened as they rubbed soothing circles on your spine. His voice, low and steady, cut through the haze of your tears.

“Breathe, baby. Take a few deep breaths,” he murmured, his tone no longer sharp but filled with an unyielding care that made your chest ache.

You hiccupped, following his instruction as you sucked in shaky gulps of air. The relief of his touch warred with the knowledge that this reprieve was temporary. Your breath finally evened out, and your tears slowed, but they didn’t stop.

“Good girl,” he said quietly, though there was no warmth in his praise—just a steady, measured approval for doing as you were told. His hand drifted to your shoulder, squeezing gently before he continued.

“Now,” he began, his tone sharp once more, “let’s discuss the way you’ve been treating your health.”

Your stomach churned, and your heart thudded as the words landed. His hand left your shoulder, and you braced yourself for what was to come, dread building with every passing second.

The hairbrush came down with a crack, the sound cutting through the room and drawing a pained cry from your lips. Shouta didn’t bother to shush you; the punishment was meant to leave a lasting impression, and he doesn't want you to hide where you are at emotionally.  The strikes weren’t as rapid as the earlier flurry of his hands, but each one was deliberate, the wide, heavy impact sinking deep into your already tender skin.

You sobbed with each blow, your cries punctuating the rhythm he set.

“I will never, ever stand for you treating yourself the way you chose to last night.” His voice was calm, but the sharpness in his tone felt like another lash, hitting somewhere deeper than just your body. “You were sick- you are sick- and the fact that you thought you could just disregard that to go party makes me think you don’t understand how seriously I take your wellbeing. Not to mention how seriously I expect you to take it yourself.”

The hairbrush came down again, and you twisted slightly, though his firm grip kept you in place. The dull thud seemed to echo in your chest, a physical reminder of just how much you had messed up.

“Every part of you is important, mind and body,” he continued, the cadence of his strikes steady and unrelenting. “One of our biggest rules is that you don’t disrespect yourself, and you know very well I don’t just mean self-deprecating words. I expect you to take the same care for yourself when I’m gone that I do when I’m here.”

The words hit harder than the brush, and your quiet whimper turned into a full sob. His disappointment was unbearable, an ache in your chest that far outweighed the sting of your reddened skin.

“Clearly, you can’t be trusted to do so on your own,” he said, pausing for a moment to let his words sink in.

The tears streaking down your face weren’t just from the physical pain; they came from the overwhelming guilt of letting him down. You knew how much he valued self-care, and how hard he worked to instill that same value in you, even when he struggled to prioritize it for himself.

You sniffled, hiccuping through your tears, and a treacherous thought flitted through your mind. Hypocrite. He barely looked after himself most days. Your attitude almost made itself known again before the next blow snapped you out of your thoughts, and you yelped, realizing too late that the silence had stretched on too long.

“Every day until you are one-hundred percent better,” he said, his tone unyielding, “you’re going to sit at that table and write me fifty lines, telling me exactly how well you’re going to take care of yourself in the future.”

You let out a soft wail of protest at the thought, but he ignored it, leaning in to speak into your ear.

“And trust me, little girl, you do not want to have this discussion again.”

And then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. The punishing rhythm of the hairbrush ceased, and the room settled into a heavy, tear-soaked silence. Your sobs, however, remained steady, shaking your body as it lay slumped over his lap.

Shouta’s hands shifted, their movements no longer firm and corrective but gentle, smoothing up and down your back and thighs. He didn’t rush you, letting you cry as long as you needed, his presence grounding you even as your emotions spilled over.

When your cries softened to hiccups, he gently helped you upright, maneuvering you so you were straddling his lap. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you buried your tear-streaked face into his shirt, soaking the fabric with every breathy sob. He didn’t mind; his arms held you just as tightly, encasing you in a protective warmth.

“Okay, kid,” he murmured, his lips brushing the crown of your head as he swayed you gently. “Alright, you’re okay now. I love you so much, baby.”

His voice was soft, full of love and patience, and it was that tenderness that finally cracked the dam inside you. The moment you had enough air in your lungs, you blurted out in a desperate rush:

“I’m so sorry, Daddy! I’m sorry I fucked up—I didn’t mean to! I just—I wanted—I’m just so, so sorry,” you wailed, clinging to him like a lifeline. The words poured out of you like water from a broken dam, each one carrying the weight of your regret. You weren’t just apologizing for the mistake, you were apologizing for letting him down, for making him feel like his care wasn’t enough to anchor you. The thought of betraying the trust he put in you made the tears fall faster.

“Oh, baby,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he hugged you even closer. “Okay, okay. I know. Thank you, babygirl, I know you are. You’re forgiven now, okay? You did so good for me, you’re all forgiven.”

His words were a balm to your guilt, soothing and grounding you as you took shuddering breaths, gradually winding down. Your sobs quieted into occasional hiccups, and he gently tilted you back to examine your tear-streaked face. Shouta’s soft smile held no trace of the earlier sternness. He reached over, plucking a tissue from the side table, and methodically wiped away your tears, along with the snot and drool that added to your humiliation. He discarded the tissue without a second thought, his focus entirely on you.

“Let’s go take a bath, baby, clear up your sinuses,” he murmured, his voice warm and soothing. He hoisted you into his arms with ease and carried you to the bathroom, grabbing two towels along the way. Setting them on the counter, he gingerly placed you atop them, your seated position making you just a little taller than him. He stood between your legs, his hands resting gently on your thighs, and studied your face with concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice earnest and patient.

You took a moment to check in with yourself, cataloging the aches in your body, the tenderness in your emotions, and the lingering sting of your punishment. Eventually, you nodded and murmured, “Yeah, ‘m okay. I’m just really sorry.”

His brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of sadness crossing his features. Leaning up, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “I know, sweetheart. I believe you.”

He didn’t push for more, understanding how fragile you felt. Instead, he gave you space, letting you sit quietly while he started filling the tub. The sound of water rushing against porcelain filled the room, and he quickly stripped down before helping you out of your oversized shirt. His movements were efficient but tender as if he were afraid to overwhelm you.

Once the tub was full, he climbed in first and extended a hand to guide you in, settling you between his legs with your back pressed firmly to his chest. The warm water enveloped you, and his arms encircled your middle, holding you close.

“There we go, my good girl,” he murmured into your hair, his breath warm against your temple. The praise made you shiver, the tension in your body melting away as you nestled further into his embrace.

“Always my good girl, no matter what,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I love you so much.”

His words wrapped around you like the heat of the water, comforting and secure, and you let yourself relax completely. This was where you belonged—wrapped in his love and care, forgiven and cherished.

[2knightt]

if you havent already, request for the outsiders boys with a super sweet sunshine s/o?

↳i love you, so let me get to you!₊˚✧

──IN WHICH, the gang dates a happy go-lucky reader!。✦

||✰ — the gang, separately

Johnny Cade ;

your kindness probably frightened him at first, he wasn’t used to anyone as nice as you.

but when he gets to know you are—he can’t get enough.

your happiness probably rubs off on him.

johnny’s smiling more, opening doors for people, and has a little spring in his step.

the gang definitely knows about you and teases johnny about it.

“you gotta stop hangin’ ‘round y/n. you’re starting to get their smile.”

“yeah, johnnycakes. i swear—i ain’t never seen you this happy.”

“get used to it, i dunno.”

you refuse to see the bad in people, and honestly johnny kinda likes that mindset.

but he doesn’t at the same time.

he knows people in the world suck, he knows how cruel it can be—but with you by his side, you make it bearable.

you make him feel actual hope that he can get out of this place.

make him feel like he has a future.

“thank you.”

“for what?”

“..everything, y/n.”

Dallas Winston ;

opposites attract dare i say?

i can see you calming dallas down, just a bit though.

not too much. just a lot.

he stops beating up people for no reason, yelling so much, and even helps a few old ladies cross the street.

only when people aren’t look though. this is still dallas.

“jus’ get outta ‘ere, punk!”

“aw, dallas! you let ‘em go! ‘m so proud.”

“whatever.”

he mumbles, snaking an arm around your waist with his other hand stuffed in his pocket.

the gang was so fucking shocked when they found out you two were dating.

“…for real?”

“you ain’t pulling our legs, are ya?”

“no? what the hell would make you guys think that?”

“they’re sweet while you’re—you.”

“fuck’s that ‘posed mean?”

“nothing.”

i feel like a lot of people would judge you for being so happy, especially with the situation with soc’s and greasers.

but dally shuts them up real fast.

“they gotta be on drugs. no way someone can be that happ—“

“who? who’s on drugs? c’mon, you can tell me.”

“uh—no one, dallas.”

“you sure?”

“yeah.”

punches them anyways.

but i don’t want you to scroll with a bad taste in your mouth.

just know, you’re the only relationship dally has been serious about in a long time.

a very, long time. so—he loves you to death.

Ponyboy Curtis ;

admired you somewhat.

he loves the aura that surrounds you. he thinks it’s different—way different than what he’s used too.

he’s used to people beating others, spitting on people, mocking, teasing.

but you?

you go out of your way to help those who were pushed down, bullied, spit on.

he admired that. he admired you.

he loved that about you.

tries to pick up your habits—but ends up failing.

“pony, when’d you become so…happy go-lucky, huh?”

“is it bothering you?”

“a little.”

“…fuck you too then.”

i feel like he’d look for a partner like that.

his type??? possibly???

you just,

give him hope.

hope that he can leave tusla and live the life he wanted on the country side.

Sodapop Curtis ;

same thing, different font.

you two get along so well it’s sickening.

when the two of you walk in a room together you blind everyone with how bright the both of you are.

im not joking.

“did he really, soda?”

“yeah! can you believ—“

“JESUS CHRIST!”

“what?”

“get out.”

“WHY?!”

“what?!”

“y’all are ruining my bad mood. screw off.”

“is he always like this?”

“yeah. just ignore two-bit.”

takes after you a lot.

like a lot.

started fighting less, helping out more costumers at the DX, etc.

he loves talking about you.

he just

does.

you’re all he talks about. i’d know, cause i’m literally writing this rn.

Darry Curtis ;

THIS DYNAMIC IS SO CUTE OH MY GOD.

cold, closed off darry with a cute, kind and sweet reader.

i’m crying just thinking about it.

you force him to open him to others.

literally.

“how’s your day, darry?”

“okay.”

“just okay? didn’t something happen at work today?”

“well yeah.”

“then tell, em! he’s your brother, babe.”

people always chuckle, seeing you cling to his arm—all smiles while he sits, looking like a guard dog.

but as soon as darry glares at them—they stop laughing.

everyone calls you sunshine after darry mockingly called you that. sorry i don’t make the rules :/ (yes i do.)

“hey, sunshine!”

“oh—hey, dal!”

“don’t call them that.”

“why not, superman?”

“because.”

Steve Randle ;

Guard dog 2.0

you gotta hold him back all the time help.

“steve! you know violence isn’t good—i hate it!”

“LEMME AT ‘EM, BABE! C’MON!!”

isn’t also—not used to people being so nice to him.

so you being so affectionate, looking out for him, loving him—just being so nice to him in general is so..shocking.

“you did so good today, love. ‘m so proud.”

“what?”

“oh? did you not hear me?”

“no—i did. it was just, outta nowhere. kinda spooked me a lil.”

please just love him.

please. he needs it.

he needs someone like you in his life and he’s so glad you are in his life.

he would’ve lost his mind a long time ago if you weren’t.

Two-bit Matthews ;

YALL ARE SO CUTE.

silly goofy guy with a sweet loving partner.

you let him ramble about anything and everything. he couldn’t be more happy.

“and they dance, like all the time!”

“even the dog?”

“EVEN THE DOG! he got his own moves, y/n!”

brags about dating the kindest person in Tulsa 24/7.

like, actually.

if you don’t like his drinking cause you know it’s slowly killing him, he’ll slow down on it.

“two, you know i don’t like you drinkin’ this stuff!”

“i know. but it’ll be my last one tonight, promise.”

“better be, ‘m worried for you.”

you’re like all he talks about.

he’s just so blessed to have an angel in his life!

like, what’d a guy like him do to get a person like you? save a country?

[1427]

When the Levee Breaks (pt. 1)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her. Right?

Chapt. Setting: Atlanta camp

Chapt. Warnings: degrading and sexist language, season 1 Daryl, he’s not nice in this, probably won’t be for a while. 

Word count: 1600 

A/N : (aka authors warning) this is written in Daryl’s POV soOo idk. Probably not everyone’s bag. Maybe it’s no one’s bag. These first three chapters are kinda rough and I’m sorry but I can only proofread my own stuff so many times before I either post it or delete it forever.

masterlist

17+ mdni for the whole story

After stringin’ a few squirrels for dinner I figure I should get back to camp. ‘m breakin’ through the tree line, and that’s when I see her.  Beatle. Beatle, for the first time in… shit, who knows? Definitely years, I’m not exactly sure how many. Beatle, just fuckin’ sittin’ at my fire. Like somehow she knew it was mine and showed up just to take it from me. Just sittin’. Smile on her face like she belongs there. She doesn’t. She doesn’t belong at this camp, with these people. Shit, Beatle doesn’t even belong alive if I’m bein’ honest. 

No one in this fuckin’ camp can hunt worth a damn.  They’re gonna expect me to feed ‘em, ain’t they? Eventually. Eventually the food’ll run out and it’ll just be me feedin’ fuckin’ everyone. M’not doin’ it. I’m not doin’ shit for ‘em anymore. Why should I? Left my brother on that roof to rot. Naw, I’ll hunt for my damn self. Don’t even know why I’m still fuckin’ here. Should be out findin’ Merle. Honestly, don’t even know why I’m not.

Even before the dead started walkin’. I figured her days were numbered since the first fuckin’ time I met ‘er. Drunk as hell, eyes glassy, loud annoying voice barkin’ like a damn dog. Just yap yap yappin at Merle and me, tits half hangin’ outta her bikini top. Ones cinched in the string like she’d just forgotten to take ‘em out from her last time around the bar. A dumb drunk bitch, Beatle. Stupid fuckin’ stripper name. Who’s dick gets hard over a stripper named Beatle? 

I watch her, just for a second, checkin’ to see if maybe it’s not really her. But it is. ‘Course it fuckin’ is. 

Shane’s the first person I see that’s not doin’ anything, going through some clothes in a duffel bag in the back of a van, figure he might know, “Where the fuck did she come from?” Pointing toward Beatle, her back to us, fifty yards away. Stupid purple hair blowing all over the damn place. 

Shane looks to see who I’m pointing at, but who the fuck else is new at camp? His eyes finally land on Beatle before looking back at me like he’s trying to fight the smile on his damn face, “Why? You interested?”

I’m tryin’ not to lose my shit that she’s even fuckin’ here. “Nah…” I shake my head, “I know ‘er.”

Shane looks up, surprised maybe, and then not. Looking from Beatle back to me again, eyeing us up. “Yeah, makes sense.” 

I squint back at ‘im, “S’that supposed ta mean?” 

He shrugs, making a face, before smiling again, folding another shirt into his pack, “Just that you look like you might know eachother.” He doesn’t say more but I know what he’s not sayin. “Is all.” He adds on the end just to reiterate. 

He means we’re both fuckin redneck trash to anyone who looks at us. I look back over at her, startin’ to get real mad at this jarhead dickhead. Not for her or nothin’. Even if he’s right, he don’t gotta say it. Or maybe it was the way he said it. Or the way he didn’t say it. Like a fuckin’ pussy. 

A part of me feels like standin’ up for myself. Hell, a part of me feels like stickin’ up for Beatle. But, shit, it’s not even worth it.

I cough up a lougie and spit it close to his foot. “So where’d she come from?” I’m fuckin’ repeating myself. I hate fuckin’ repeating myself. 

“Think she just wandered in. Must’ve been lost in the woods or something. Ask Rick. He seems to know everything.”

Can’t keep myself from crackin’ at his petty comment. Always so fuckin’ loud with his contempt, makin’ the situation obvious to anyone with eyes. Messy. 

I decide I’m gonna ask ‘er. She’s gonna see me eventually. Better I approach her first, right? Don’t need to get football tackled in the middle of doin’ somethin’ else when she sees me for the first time. So I pull out a cigarette and start walkin’ over.

She’s talkin’ to Andrea. She fuckin’ would. Both of them loud dumb bitches. Talking about all the dumb shit they miss since everything’s turned to shit. Not talkin’ about people or nothin’ important. Just bullshit like getting your damn nails done, and eating fuckin’ ice cream. 

“Where’d you fuckin’ come from?” Sayin it louder than I meant. More aggressive than I thought my voice would sound. Usually fuckin’ is, though.  The laughing between Andrea and Beatle stops and they look over at me, just standing there waitin’ for it to register. Waitin’ for Beatles reaction. Starin’ ‘er the fuck down like she doesn’t fuckin’ belong here. She doesn’t. 

Beatles eyes light up, getting up from her chair and runnin’ over to me like she’s never been more excited to see someone in her whole damn life. I try to brace myself, but she still rocks me backward as she jumps on me, “Daryl!” Should have stopped her, could have moved just right out of the way. But nah, I let her. 

I don’t hug her back though, just push her off and let her own feet catch her. Dumb bitch doesn’t know personal boundaries. Her voice so close to my ear, “Damn, don’t look so happy to see me.”

Happy to see her? I’m not. Didn’t think I could be so unhappy to see a familiar face in my whole fuckin’ life. But she wasn’t letting that stop her, never fuckin’ did. “I was lost, found this camp. They said I could stay.” She explains, her voice high and happy and annoying as it ever was. At least she’s not drunk. 

Everyone around the fire had gone back to what they were doing. Not watchin’ us anymore. They could probably see as well as Shane that it was obvious how we knew eachother. Well, maybe not exactly how. But they probably had a good idea. 

I dunno what to say to her explanation, so I don’t say nothin’. And she just stands next to me, too close, clearly not gettin’ the hint that I didn’t really wanna talk to her. Just wanted to know why she was here. Now I know. She wasn’t gettin’ that she could and should just go back to her conversation with Andrea about ice skating, or cocktails, or what the fuck ever. 

“What about you?” Her voice quieter for fuckin’ once. 

I shake my head, blowing smoke out, “Merle and me, met up with everyone...” I don’t feel like explaining it, so I don’t. 

Beatle’s lookin’ up at me, her big eyes all wide and excited like a dumbass deer too stupid to move out of traffic, “Merle’s here?” 

This coil of disgust, I feel it snaring it’s way through my abdomen. Yeah, that’s the feeling Beatle usually gives me. Back like it never fuckin’ left. “Nah, not anymore. Sorry to dry your cunt.” 

Beatle says “Ew” fast. Like she’s so disgusted by my vocabulary. Like she isn’t just as crude, the things I heard that little mouth of hers say. 

“He’s not…” she means dead.

“Nah, hes not dead.” Usually this is where I talk something nice about Merle, about how he’s a tough sunuvabitch or some other shit. But not to Beatle. Beatle already knows, and for some reason talking about Merle with her makes me.. fuck… whatever. 

Glancing over, it looks like Beatle’s finally got the hint that I don’t wanna talk to her. She probably really was excited to see me, and I almost feel bad for a second. Before she puts her grubby fuckin’ hand in my face and asks if she can have a cigarette. Needy fuckin’ bitch. 

I laugh right in her face. At the gall of her. That at the end of it all, of everything; she was still trying to get some fuckin’ handout. “Naw.”

“Oh, come on, Daryl, please? I haven’t had one in days!” As if I give a shit what she has or hasn’t had. Hasn’t seen me in years and wants to ask for favors? 

I keep draggin’ on my cigarette, blowin’ the smoke out, and m’not smiling anymore, “I said naw. I don’t see your tits out, why would I give you anything?” Fuck repeating myself.

“You wanna see my tits?” She says it like it’s actually a question. Like she really fuckin’ believes that I’m askin’. 

“You’re a dumb bitch, Beatle, y’know tha’?” I shake my head at her, laughin’ at her again. She’s fuckin’ ridiculous.  Taking another drag I realize the cig is trash, and I almost throw the butt into the fire but decide to hand it to her instead. 

She takes it, with needy fingers like I knew she fuckin’ would. Trying to hide my smile at how fuckin’ pathetic she always seems to be.  Watching her take my trash like it’s fuckin’ gold. She drags it once, I can smell the filter burning and she throws it in the fire. “Next time maybe you’ll share one with me?” Her voice is so sweet it makes me sick. Like I didn’t just call her a dumb bitch to her face. 

Saccharine and fake, that’s how she’s always been. All her cute little movements and motions, all just tryin’ to work me up so I’ll share my smokes or listen to her dumbass whine about anything and everything. Annoying.

“Prolly not.” And I’m already walking away from the fire. From Beatle. Going back to my tent and praying to god, Jesus Christ, don’t let her follow. 

Chewin’ on what she said. Lost, huh? See? Didn’t even belong alive. 

pt 2

[valley-of-headcanons]

If I can request, you did the way the bachelorettes react to ex-stardom. I enjoyed it so much and would love to see it for the bachelors too?

I love your writings ;u; ♡

bachelors reacting to your ex-stardom || headcanons

being in the limelight was fun for a while, but settling down is definitely what you needed. but how would your partner react to your past? part one here!

warnings: nothing that i can see! :)

requested by: anon! hii, thank you so much for the request! this topic is pretty interesting, and i really enjoyed writing for everyone! be sure to check out part one, it adds a little more context and i think it's super duper cool and you're definitely missing out. anyway! hope you enjoy :)

alex

• You and Alex were on the beach, resting after tossing around the Gridball. He got on the topic of his dream of playing Gridball professionally, and how although he wanted to make it big and turn his passion into a profession, he wouldn't know what to do with himself. He's been such a shut-in these last few years, only really hanging out with you and his grandparents. The fame sounds so scary. But ... you knew that all too well. He didn't know that, though. Maybe it was time.

• You slowly told Alex that you knew a lot about being famous, before explaining who you were. “Wait- what?! Why didn't you tell me sooner?! I love your music! Genuinely, like I listen to it all the time ... I know it's not really the manliest choice and it's my guilty pleasure- not to say men shouldn't listen to your music! Oh my yoba- sorry- ... I love your music. That's what I'm trying to say. It's really really good.”

• As you explained why you left the limelight, Alex nodded understandingly. “Yeah, Gridball will always be a dream of mine, but the people I'd be around are probably not good. Maybe staying in the town isn't such a bad idea, huh? I don't think anyone could really beat hangin' with you, grandma, and grandpa.”

• Alex soon opened up about which of your songs was his favorite, and asked in depth about them. There were some that really spoke to him emotionally, and he had a really bad time dealing with that sort of stuff. The fact that you created something he relates to makes him happier than ever! He scored pretty good, if he says so himself.

• Regardless of your old fame, he's still deeply in love with you. He admires your talent, but that doesn't overshadow how you've helped him in his life since you've actually been in it. He will still listen to your music, but maybe a little more publicly. He wouldn't tell anyone unless you said it was okay, but he'd totally be bragging about you if he were allowed.

elliott

• Elliott was not having a great writing session. He invited you over, incredibly stumped with his latest novel. He was bouncing ideas off of you left and right, but nothing would stick! You mentioned that music could be an inspiration, and it was like a lightbulb smacked him in the forehead. He raced over to his stereo and turned on the radio. A cheese-y pop tune ... YOUR cheese-y pop tune. He was embarrassed over the pop playing and immediately turned it, but he did notice your expression and inquired.

• You explained that the song on the radio was a song that you wrote and sang yourself. He was startled at first. “I didn't know we had such a big star in our midst! Are those your lyrics as well? I didn't pin you as such a wonderful writer, but I am so grateful! Someone that shares my writing prowess! I knew some invisible string brought us together!”

• As you continue to explain your past and why you came out to Pelican Town, Elliott nods along, hearing your story. “I didn't realize how similar we are. I understand wanting to get away from it all, that's why I'm out here as well. I suppose you came here to get away from your work, and I came to get closer to it. How awfully poetic that is, don't you think?”

• He asked a lot of questions, really diving deep into your mind. Of course, he only asked if you were comfortable with it. He loved analyzing people's minds, especially if they were different from his own. He may or may not use some of these aspects of your life in his new novel. With your permission, of course. You've always been his biggest muse.

• Elliott is invested in your life, like any good partner should, and admires your creative talent. This only heightens his view of you, as you are an artist, just like him. Despite the different mediums, you two share a lot in common. He would love you regardless of this aspect, but this only draws you two closer.

harvey

• Harvey was giving you a check-up, which was a bit unethical now that you were dating, but eh. He's the only doctor in the town and he's very worried about your health. He noticed that you mentioned a previous injury when checking your knee reflexes. This injury has occurred in a rehearsal for one of your tours. You didn't want to lie to your sweet boyfriend, so you had to admit the truth.

• As he wrote on his clipboard your reasoning, he stopped for a moment. “Tour? Popstar? Is this one of your sarcastic comments that I'm not getting? ... oh, really? You've never mentioned that part of your life before. Please, if you want to open up about it, show me some of your work once we get home. I hate to admit, but I'm fairly curious,” he said with a soft, caring smile.

• When you two get home after the checkup, he starts to cook dinner. “Please, keep me company while I cook. If you'd like to share some stories ... well, only if you're comfortable with it, I know that you got away from fame for a reason, but ... I want to know that part of your life, just like I know this one. Indulge me, if you would, my love.”

• He tries his best to support this part of your life, even if he wasn't involved. He ends up purchasing a lot of your old music and keeping a collection, showing it as a sign of affection. He listens to it while he does household chores, humming along to your songs happily while you're away.

• Harvey didn't mind this aspect of your life. It was another thing that made you the person he loves. He listens to everything you say and pays attention, specifically to the parts of fame you enjoyed and didn't enjoy. He only asked about the stuff you liked, and allowed you to open up about the hard times on your own, when you were ready. He was incredibly careful about the whole thing, and wouldn't dare make you uncomfortable.

sam

• As you and Sam were relaxing in his room one day, he was fiddling with his guitar. He seemed super stumped, strumming random chords to try and make some sense. Nothing was working ... he eventually showed you something that sounds sort of functional? But this rhythm was VERY similar to a song you put out a long time ago. You let out a soft giggle, which left Sam confused. You had to explain now.

• You drop the fact that you were a popstar in a nonchalant manner, trying to make it not a huge deal. But it's Sam. Of course it's a big deal. “No. Fucking. WAY! You're kidding, you've gotta be fucking with me! And you didn't tell me?! For SHAME! As punishment, you've gotta tell me all about it and I will refuse to change the topic. Now SPILL!”

• You explained who you are and why you left everything behind, which Sam thought about for a moment. “Wow ... I never really bought about fame that way. That must've been a lot, and I really do get why you came all the way down here. I'm just glad you're here now, y'know? ... but if you do end up getting the itch to create some music again, with no strings attached to fame, I'm always here. I'd love to create somethin' sick with you.”

• Sam always asked questions about the parts of fame he didn't know much about. Did you go to any parties? Was this person actually chill or were they a dick? He was so curious and asked probably the weirdest questions imaginable, but they were refreshing. And if you weren't the first person Sam showed his music to before, you were now. He always asked for your approval, and asked how to improve. It was extremely sweet.

• Even though he was excited about everything you had presented to him, he tried his best to be respectful. If you asked him to stop, he would with a nod and a quick apology, giving you a small kiss before putting the topic to bed. He still loved you for you! This aspect about you is just so cool and interesting to him. He adores you regardless, and wouldn't trade the current version of you for anyone else.

sebastian

• Sebastian had just finished working for the day and needed to relax. He flopped down on his couch and pressed the button on his radio. The pop station came on, and he was about to turn it before you walked in. You were shocked to hear your own song playing, staring at him with wide eyes. He makes some sarcastic comments about how this is actually his music taste and you just don't understand him. He doesn't understand why you're so shocked, though.

• As you slowly drop the bomb, he lets out a little chuckle. “Hah. Funny. You can drop the act, I can tell you're fuckin' with me ... are you really a world renowned superstar with several albums with hundreds of chart toppers? Like I believe that! Why the hell would you choose Pelican Town of all places to live, huh? This is the type of town you need to run away from.”

• You eventually have to explain why you left, why that lifestyle really wasn't you. He's actually at a loss for words for a moment, before nodding. “I didn't expect that out of you, you really are full of surprises. Tell me more, if you wanna. I'd be willing to listen. If you don't wanna talk about all that shit though, it's fine. Whatever you wanna do,” he said with a welcoming smile.

• Your music was FAR from what Sebastian listened to commonly. His Radiohead collection can attest for that. But ... he decided to take a listen to your music. He's very picky usually, so this is a pretty good feat. He actually kind of enjoyed it, for once. Maybe you're leading him down the path of liking something that's not edgy. Hmm. That's nice.

• Sebastian found this part of you incredibly interesting, but he didn't ask many questions. If you wanted him to know, he would, and he respected that. He loves hearing you talk about anything that you're passionate about, or just hearing you talk in general. It's arguably one of his favorite past times.

shane

• You and Shane were sitting by the pier one night. This was Shane's safe spot, attempting not to start drinking again. You two spent several afternoons sitting under the glow of the stars with an old cassette player and some of Shane's favorite songs. One of these nights, he mentioned that his childhood dream was to be an actor, and how weird fame seemed. He would hate being famous ... and you did too. This would be a perfect time to drop this bomb.

• You mentioned your past to Shane, but he brushed it off. “Uh huh. And I'm actually a famous bowler but I fucked up my arm and now I'm destined to live the rest of my life in this little shit hole. Oh, my poor dreams. How sad,” he said, his dry humor biting with sarcasm. He noticed your facial expressions ... they weren't sarcastic. “... I'm sober right? You didn't spike my drink or somethin' and you're tryin' to fuck with me ... huh. Now that's a topic.”

• You explained everything, mainly about why you came back here. You figured Shane wouldn't really know much about who you were, that's not his type of music anyway. “Huh. Nice. I figured you were just some corporate big league who got tired of the white walls. A lot of things make a lot more sense, I guess. You're a lot more talented than I thought ... sorry, that was mean- let me rephrase ... you are talented. I really am tryin' to get better about that ...”

• Shane didn't ask much about it further, but would listen if you brought it up again. He ended up stumbling across your work ... it was way better than he imagined. Maybe because it was you. It was a source of comfort to him, and he often listened to your beautiful voice when he was in a dark time. It helped him through a lot.

• He didn't mind your past, you had a lot less skeletons in your closet than he did. He liked hearing your voice, so it was a win-win. He got this down-to-Earth side of you that he enjoys being around, but he can also listen to his star-studded partner whenever he wants. He wouldn't tell you that, though. That's his little secret.

[writtenjewels]

Mirage part 5

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Jason did have a few things in the cabin to entertain himself. He had no radio, but he did have a boombox and music CDs. Salim looked through them, partly wanting to find something to listen to and partly curious about Jason's musical taste. The bands he recognized were rock and roll, and Salim could only assume the rest were the same. Some of the covers suggested something even more extreme. Metal, according to Jason.

“Like they make music using metal objects?” Salim asked.

“It's like rock, but louder,” Jason explained. Salim was intrigued by this description. He picked one of the CDs and put it in. “I donno if you'll like it,” Jason warned.

The first few notes were a blast of noise. Salim listened, fascinated by the sounds. Then the guitar kicked in, filling the song with energy. Drums joined in to set a rising tempo. It made Salim's heart beat faster. He wanted to move, to fight something, to run outside, to dance. It got even faster and the vocals finally kicked in. Salim couldn't understand a word they were saying.

“I like the music!” he shouted to Jason over the noise. “But not... that.” He didn't think he could call the speaking words singing.

“Wait, this is the best part!” Jason shouted back. The guitars and drums had taken over the song. It sounded like pure chaos. There was no rhythm as far as Salim could tell. It was like the climax of a storm put to music. What a shame that it died down.

“Amazing!” Salim beamed. He caught Jason's eye and the other man smiled at him. The song had filled Salim with too much energy to keep sitting down. He rose to his feet, swaying a little under the weak limbs. Jason moved to support him.

“Heavy metal gave ya a little boost. That's cute.”

“Cute?” Salim echoed. The word caused fresh butterflies to explode in his stomach.

“How 'bout we take a stroll around the room while you're feelin' up to it?” Jason suggested.

Salim agreed and the two made a slow circuit around the room. The CD had moved onto the next song. It was just as energized and loud as the previous one. It was strange having such different sensations: the wild energy of the music, and the nervous fluttering being so close to Jason. They finished the walk and Salim sank back down to the floor. He was a little tired, though that was likely due to going days without activity.

“What is this band, anyway?” Salim wondered.

“They're called Slayer. I got some other ones if you wanna try them.”

“No, thank you. One is more than enough.” Salim noticed that Jason still had an arm around him, but said nothing in hopes that the man would stay close. To his disappointment, Jason pulled away to turn down the music.

“I haven't done anything like this in a long time,” Jason spoke up.

“You used to rescue people in the desert more often?” Salim teased.

“Don't be a smart-ass,” Jason scolded, though there was no bite to his tone. “I mean hangin' out and listenin' to music. It's nice.”

“Circumstances aside, I'm glad to be here,” Salim told him. He slid across the floor to get a little closer to Jason. “I'm glad it was you who found me, Jason.”

“Me too. I mean,” Jason clarified, “I'm glad I was around.”

Salim moved a bit closer. He wanted to feel Jason's touch so badly. He raised a hand, intending to initiate the contact. At the last moment his uncertainty took over and he placed his hand on the boombox instead. Even quieted, the music was powerful enough to make the machine pulse. Salim closed his eyes so he could focus on it.

“You tired?” Jason asked him. His hand touched Salim's shoulder and Salim opened his eyes again, tilting his head in Jason's direction.

“It's been a long day. I think. I'm not sure of the time.”

“It's late,” Jason supplied, He reached over to turn off the boombox without releasing his hold on Salim. “I'll help you to bed.”

“Bed?” Salim repeated. “You mean this whole time I could've been sleeping in a bed instead of on the floor?”

“You just can't stop bein' a smart-ass, can you?” Jason snorted in amusement.

“It's a gift.” Salim's eyes were starting to droop. “Will you stay until I fall asleep?"

“Sure I will.” Jason's words had gone soft. Salim thought he felt the man's lips brush against his ear. “I ain't goin' nowhere.”

[geffenrecords]

2nd physical media collection update... for i am nothing if not the hoarder... smiles

everything minus books (too many) and records (too few) listed below

TAPES:

a recounting of the pearl harbor attack

so far, so good, so what! - megadeth

the four seasons - vivaldi

concerti - vivaldi

hangin' tough - new kids on the block

piano concertos - tchaikovsky, lizt

symphonies no. 40 in G minor - mozart

defenders of the faith - judas priest

flute sonatas - bach

highlights from the phantom of the opera musical

days of future passed - the moody blues

doomsday for the deceiver - flotsam and jetsam

st elmo's fire, original motion picture soundtrack

i do not want what i haven't got - sinead o'connor

sunrise on the sufferbus - masters of reality

diary - sunny day real estate

nevermind the bollocks, here's the sex pistols - sex pistols

destroyed - sloppy seconds

killing is my business... and business is good! - megadeth

synchronicity - the police

spreading the disease - anthrax

delirious nomad - armored saint

this is johnny cash

natural born killers, original motion picture soundtrack

diary of a madman - ozzy osbourne

fantastic - wham!

garage days rerevisited - metallica

VHS

metallica: year and a half in the life of...

cliff 'em all (both of these tapes are the originals my dad bought when they came out, which he gave to me :) )

BBC walking with dinosaurs

dead poets society

the lost boys

flatliners

family values tour '98 (i actually gave this one to my sibling, but its still in the picture. whoops)

star wars: attack of the clones

aliens

the terminator

hackers

CDS

the black parade - my chemical romance

danger days - my chemical romance

american idiot - green day

21st century breakdown - green day

in love and death - the used

may death never stop you - my chemical romance

baby one more time - britney spears

life on the murder scene, movie and soundtrack

dookie - green day

nimrod - green day

nevermind - nirvana

uno!, dos!, tre! - green day

nirvana, greatest hits

weezer (blue)

selfish machines - pierce the veil

collide with the sky - pierce the veil

three cheers for sweet revenge - my chemical romance

from under the cork tree - fall out boy

teens of denial - car seat headrest

in utero - nirvana

licensed to ill - beastie boys

lost and found - mudvayne

what it is to burn - finch

slipknot, first album

no strings attached - nsync

infinity on high - fall out boy

fallen - evanesence

weezer (green)

mellon collie and the infinite sadness - the smashing pumpkins

tallahassee - the mountain goats

bleach - nirvana

in the areoplane over the sea - neutral milk hotel

the downward spiral - nine inch nails

facelift - alice in chains

placebo

(this is around where i turned 16, you'll notice a shift lol)

smash - the offspring

dirt - alice in chains

peace sells... but who's buying? - megadeth

garage days rerevisisted - metallica

folie a duex - fall out boy

spit - kittie

the devil put dinosaurs here - alice in chains

alice in chains (self titled)

incesticide - nirvana

hot fuss - the killers

american beauty / american psycho - fall out boy

among the living - anthrax

oops!... i did it again - britney spears

...and justice for all - metallica

let's knife - shonen knife

kill 'em all - metallica

ride the lightning - metallica

lithium / been a son / curmudgeon - nirvana

you brought me your bullets, i brought you my love - my chemical romance, copy that my dad handmade :)

no prayer for the dying - iron maiden

unplugged in new york - nirvana

killing is my business...and business is good! - megadeth

enema of the state - blink-182

take off your pants and jacket - blink-182

pretty hate machine - nine inch nails

screaming for vengeance - judas priest

fabulous disaster - exodus

let go - avril lavigne

metallica - metallica

master of puppets - metallica

hidden treasures - megadeth

dude ranch - blink-182

there be squabbles ahead - stolen babies

twilight, original motion picture soundtrack (i litr dont remember why i bought this ? lol)

neighborhoods - blink-182

south of heaven - slayer

blink-182 - blink-182

angst - kmfdm

adios - kmfdm

never mind the bollocks, here's the sex pistols - sex pistols

hybrid theory - linkin park

the lion and the cobra - sinead o'connor

seasons in the abyss - slayer

reign in blood - slayer

meteroa - linkin park

toxicity - system of a down

jar of flies - alice in chains

core - stone temple pilots

louder than love - soundgarden

ultramega ok - soundgarden

korn - korn

life is peachy - korn

follow the leader - korn

deathconciousness - have a nice life

no more tears - ozzy osbourne

rust in peace - megadeth

system of a down - system of a down

s&m - metallica

unplugged - alice in chains

artwork - the used

issues - korn

misfits - misfits

asia - asia

randy rhoads tribute - ozzy osbourne

ke*a*h*** (psalm 69) - ministry

practice what you preach - teastament

faster than the speed of night - bonnie tyler

christmas collection - carpenters

the dark - metal church

spinal tap

boogadaboogadaboogada - screeching weasel

DVD

IT (1990)

IT (2017)

IT chapter two

ready or not

beetlejuice

glee season 1 & 2 (listen...)

jaws

the secret of nimh

jurassic park 1, 2, 3

metalocalypse seasons 1-4

flatliners

the lost boys

diary of a wimpy kid

aliens

alien resurrection

tmnt

the outsiders, the complete novel

trainspotting

over the edge

donnie darko

venom

jennifer's body

jackass number 2

twilight

the karate kid

the princess diaries

fight club

star wars prequels, 1-3

narnia; the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe

the osbournes, season 1

little miss sunshine

spider-man, 1-3

the amazing spiderman

elephant

kung fu panda

star wars, original trilogy

the polar express

scream

heathers

surf's up

bowling for columbine

hackers

a clockwork orange

natural born killers

terminator 2 judgment day

mysterious skin

moonrise kingdom

the world's greatest albums, green day's american idiot

that was then, this is now

jackass

suicide kings

matrix

the goldfinch

speak

the day after tomorrow

stand by me

kids

rumble fish

grey's anatomy, seasons 1-2 (again. listen...)

30 years of national geographic specials

what's eating gilbert grape?

carrie

little shop of horrors

the breakfast club, sixteen candles, weird science (john hughes collection)

bill and ted, bill and ted 2

girl, interuppted

the story of star wars

the exorcist

good will hunting

kansas

this is spinal tap

spirit: stallion of the cimarron

kalifornia

not pictured here, stuck under a stack of books, BBC's planet earth

[silverzoomies]

totally gonna send you random headcannons of my xmen dr based off of stuff i see you reblog

im forced to move into the mansion to stay safe and i only agree to it under a few circumstances:

no classes for me

my own room with my own private bathroom

access to a kitchen bc i love to cook/bake

some times i can’t sleep so i’ll randomly bake cakes or cupcakes or whatever it is i’m in the mood for and i like to believe peter will bother me while i do it and he tries to help but he ends up splashing batter all over the kitchen

when we celebrate his birthday for the first time together i bake him a giant twinky cake and he cries (he gets sick from eating over half- lets be real the ENTIRE cake but that’s okay we still love him)

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH DJFIEHFIJRJR !!! y'all, please keep sending me stuff like this. it makes my entire week, you don't even know !! 💗💗💗

you have nooooo idea how jealous some of the students are gonna be !! like, c'mon !! you get a private bathroom ?? that's just not fair !!

your baking habits are so frequent, the students forgive you for stealin' the private bathroom. as long as you're makin' tasty treats they can indulge in, you're alright in their book

one night, you're up late and baking. that's when peter spots you. you're mixing some good good in a bowl. lost in your own, little world. got the radio on at a low volume, listening to some tunes

but it's like...3am. you know that, right?

i mean, it makes sense for him to be up. he really doesn't need to sleep when his energy is so limitless. but you? what, did you have a bad night or somethin'?

peter just wanted to grab a quick soda, rush back upstairs, play some mortal kombat (on the arcade cabinet he obtained 100% legally, fyi)

but - guilty as charged - he's a sucker for sweets. and now...you've made him a little curious...

this becomes somewhat of a habit

at some outrageous hour in the night, you'll bake again. peter'll be there, leaning over your shoulder. he'll pester you. tell you all these (slightly exaggerated) stories of all the cool stuff he's done

he sticks around, at first, just to taste test everything you make. but after so many nights - he kinda just really likes hangin' out with you

eventually, he tries to help. but cooking is a slow process. you tell him a thousand times - he needs to be patient !! he can't rush the process !!

next thing you know, you're turning around at the sound of a casual "whoops." there's batter everywhere. flour. a few broken eggs. he's licking unmixed batter off the whisk. he makes a face when it doesn't taste like yours

"i followed your recipe to a t, dude. i dunno how i bombed so bad!! i even added a little extra vanilla"

"peter, you used the whole bottle"

"so? what's wrong with that?"

seriously? what did he even do wrong?? who can complain about more vanilla ??

on his birthday, you tell him you have a surprise for him. and his first, immediate assumption is-

"is it a cake? it's a cake, isn't it? definitely a cake. what kind? did you make your own frosting? how big is it? it's huge, right? please tell me i don't have to share-"

and again, you remind him he has to be patient. which makes him antsy. but...fine !!! he's (kind of) willing to wait, if it means he gets somethin' tasty out of it

you reveal it's a giant, twinkie cake. same recipe as the originals, but even better. you put your own little spin on it. made it extra special. and this is...LEGIT SO CRAZY !! it's totally AMAZING !! like, how did you even know ??

"i could kiss you right now, y'know that? i could, and i might. right after i dig into this bad boy. just you wait."

he doesn't think before he acts. ever.

he devours the whole thing before you can remind him to pace himself

normally, his rapid metabolism saves him any aches and pains. he can swallow down a whole pizza - or two - and be just fine

but this cake...this is a really, really big one. you went wayyyy above and beyond with it

he'll be keeling over in bed later, writhing in tummy achin' agony. but your baking is so worth the suffering

[felixsterprankster]

Sooooo

My friend and I made short fanfics based on THIS POST for our olnf MCs

For a little context

Falco and Allison's are legally siblings as Allison was adopted from Englad at the age of 3 and is a few months younger than Falco.

And for this supernatural AU fanfic. Allison is a Wendigo whe Falco and Opal are Selkies

Without further ado

FANFICS

First fic is of Allison's Incident with being a hidden Wendigo by @rosieofthyposie (my bestie/Sister)

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"Hey! You guys should totally come over for camping in my backyard!"

It was just an innocent request from the young Tamarack. Not like Allison or Ivory knew what a camping trip entailed. Naivety still ran all around the group about the truth of the two. So Ivory was quick to agree and of course dragged Ally along. Not like Ally protested much. She had a liking for Tam and Qiu. They weren't going to be far from the Culdesac anyway.

Just as Ivory and Ally arrived, Qiu was just behind and Tam had set up a table and her sleeping bag next to a ring of rocks. Ally tilted her head slightly but didn't question the ring of rocks. Maybe she should have. Tam's face lit up with a bright smile that was contagious for the other three kids. Even Ally who didn't smile often. Qiu then placed the marshmallows he brought, Ally and Ivory placing the chocolate down that Tam requested they bring as well. Tam already had the gram crackers. A confusing name for Ally to comprehend. A gram is a weight, nor does it look like a normal cracker but she already asked Ama what it meant and she simply replied 'that's just what they're called'. How inconclusive. Seeing the ingredients on the table now, Tam clapped her hands together. "Now we just need sticks!"

Sticks? Ally already sees metal rods. Would those not work for sticking the food on? But again, Ally doesn't ask and just follows Ivory to pick up sticks of varying sizes as they saw Qiu and Tamarack picking up. Qiu of course brought the bigger sticks and logs it seems, placing them in the stone circle. Tam followed suit and Ivory and Ally were right behind. After adjusting the sticks and logs together, Tam threw on some dry leaves and stuffed them in the little stick tent before rummaging in her bag for something. Ally temporarily was distracted by a rabbit that she pointed out to Ivory so they were both distracted from the fact that Tam pulled out some matches. The bunny was checking out some berries near by and so the two little creatures stared at it for a while. That was until Ally felt her body growing warmer. Not just naturally but from 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. She was confused for a second before looking back to what was a pile of sticks and leaves and is now a very 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 fire. Her heart rate picked up and she let out a mix between a hiss and a growl. Without a thought in her head now, she raised a hand ready to attack the person who started the fire but Ivory as quick. She grabbed Ally by the hands and turned her away from the group, earning confused stares but she just smiled. "Ally isn't used to fires... She was just a little scared. We'll... Be right back."

Quickly she pushed Ally away and quickly to the house where Ama was reading a book. She glanced up as she heard the door open and frowned seeing Ally shaking so much. "What happened?"

Just hearing the softness of Ama's voice was enough to ease Ally's fear and she quickly ran up to Ama, clinging to her shirt. This would take a minute before she's ready to talk about it and Ivory returned to the other two just briefly to relay the news that Ally wasn't feeling well. 'I ruined another night...'

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And here is the one I made about Falco!

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Ivory was a Selkie, same with her En Mamma, while her sister, Allison, was not a Selkie but a Wendigo. Erikssons made it work with their new life, even away from any big body of water.

Right now the culdesac kids were hanging out in the Eriksson estate. Hanging out to avoid the cold of the change of Autumn to Winter, specifically, Ivorys room.

"I'm so happy it's Friday! And I Don't have Gymnastics tomorrow!" Ivory said triumphantly to her friends and sister. "Yaaaay!" Tamarack said as she jumped up and and down at the news of her friend being free tomorrow to play.

"Do you want to hang out? Maybe go into town?" her other neighbor piped in with his input. "Actually, I was thinking of playing dolls with Knapp! Maybe the day after AFTER my Gymnastics class! Is the rest of the club gonna go?" "hhmm maybe. I don't know"

"Oooo what's this?!" Tamarack said pulling something off Ivorys bed. "Isn't that the pelt you showed me a few weeks ago Ivy? Before Misses Eriksson told you not to take it out of the house?" Qiu chimed in. Ivory turned to see what the 2 were talking about just to freeze. 'MY SKIN!' she panicked. "N-No!" Allison shouted, shocking Tamarack and Qiu, as she rarely raised her voice.

"Don't touch that!" Ivory shouted in an obviously panicked voice as she jumped up to take it from Tamarack and clutched it to her body, slightly turning away from them.

"I'm sorry Ivory! I didn't mean to make you mad! " Tamarack said quickly, she really didn't mean to make Ivory upset. Both neighbors visibility startled from the normally hyper but also Level Headed girl sounding so panicked and... Scared... They had never seen this side of Ivory.

Allison moved quickly to get near Ivory. Allison was there after the incident with Qiu and her skin. Ivory wanted to show her friends her skin, but after their En Mamma saw Ivory showing her skin to Qiu and was about to let him hold it, she was quick to put an end to it, out of fear. She quickly scolded Ivory before bringing her inside to tell her why she shouldn't show off her skin to people.

After hearing a few stories of En Mamma's friends who had their skins taken and were forced to leave the ocean forever.

It filled Ivory with fear..... So much fear... She likes her neighbors... She LOVES her neighbors... But the thought of that happening to her scared her so deeply.

She knew her En Mamma never meant to scare her like that, but it was still scary to think that one day she could be forced to go with someone just cause they took her skin.

"I... I'm Sorry!" she said quickly before booking it out of her room and right to her En Mamma's room.

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[artyandink]

𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 | 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎!𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 | 𝟸

Summary: Ivonne Rainer hadn’t met Dean Winchester in 2006 after he was hit by a car. No, this time, this universe, they met in 2010, when the whole Apocalypse deal started and Dean was made leader of one of the only remaining survival camps in America. Little did he know, one random raid would change everything.

MASTERLIST

RETRIEVAL

“So…” I was approached by woman my age, her brown hair tied up in a sleek ponytail. “you must be the new arrival. Dean really has a problem with you.” 

I cocked a rifle, passing it to another camper, James Rhodes, who took it, checked it and nodded, seemingly impressed. “That’s me, yeah.” I nodded, folding my arms. “Though I’m usually known as Ivy.” 

“Ivy.” She repeated, then held her hand out with a smile. “Risa.” 

“Nice to meet you.” I responded with a small smile twitching at my lips, then I saw her still-outstretched hand and shook it hurriedly. 

“Woah, quite the grip.” She grinned as I let go. 

“Oh, uh, sorry.” I chuckled nervously. 

“Nah, you’re good.” Then she smiled again. “I don’t see what Dean meant about you being a pain in the ass. You seem like you aren’t.” 

“Just depends on who I’m hangin’ with.” 

“Touché. Dean can be an irritating S.O.B, but you learn to ignore when he’s being a douche after a while.” 

“Promise?” I smirked, making her laugh. I laughed too, feeling at ease around this… Risa. 

“Hey, uh, Risa?” James interrupted the conversation, slinging a gun clip holster on his chest. “I’m about to head out with the squad to Missouri. I know the boss told me to keep an eye on Ivy here, but-“ 

“Oh, so I need surveillance now?” I raised an eyebrow, pissed off. “This guy’s askin’ to get decked.” 

“Believe me, he is, but it’s just how Dean rolls.” Risa chuckled, then led me away. “You’ll have a much better time hanging around me. I’ll introduce you to the campers, get you started on something, and we’ll all be smiles and giggles.” 

“I hope not.” I laughed. 

“Yeah, neither do I.” She grinned. “Just a few things. Stay away from the hippie cabin at 3 o’clock, it gets hot an’ heavy in there and nobody wants to hear it. If you wanna earn Dean’s trust, you have to save his ass, but he doesn’t let anyone save his ass so you just kiss that sweet thing goodbye. And one last thing…” She rounded on me, “can you shoot?” 

“I’ll fire a bullseye if you give me a target.”

”Alright.” She picked up a shotgun, handing it to me. “There’s a red dot on the wall behind you. Don’t think, just shoot.” I immediately spun around, my eyes locking onto the red dot. The moment I got a visual, I pulled the trigger, hitting it dead on. “Damn!” 

“Eh, it’s nothin’.” I chuckled, handing the gun back. 

“You’re a damn good shot, I mean, that was-“ 

“Suicide!” A man who was only an inch taller than me popped up, looking outraged. “Do you know what Dean’s gonna say when he sees a bullet missing-“ His eyes landed on me, and he looked confused. “Risa, who is this?” 

“Right, I forgot to mention.” Risa gestured to me with a grimace. “Chuck, this is Ivonne Rainer, she’s new here. Ivy, this is Chuck ‘Prophet of the Lord’ Shirley. However, a prophet isn’t much use��in an apocalypse. They’re only gonna spell D-O-O-M.” 

“At least I’m the rations organiser! What are you, the boss’ woman?” 

“Exactly.” Risa smirked before tapping me on the shoulder, leading me away. “That’s Chuck for you. He gets a bit sensitive sometimes. Anyway, Dean gets really touchy with the supplies and stuff, goes through ‘em himself to make sure nothin’s missing.” 

“If he’s gonna freak out over a bullet, give me a bit o’ metal and a heat source, I’ll forge a new one.” I grinned, and Risa raised her eyebrows.

I held up a freshly-forged bullet, examining it for a second before putting it in the cartridge. Risa looked on in surprise, and nodded in disbelief. “You did it.” 

“Yep.” I nodded, replacing the cartridge in the gun and cocking it before throwing it aside. “I’m prepared in a dire sitch. The boss won’t suspect a thing, so you’re safe.” 

“My god, you’re amazing.” She laughed in disbelief, looking at me in awe. “Just where did Dean dig you up from, huh, lifesaver?” 

“Jersey City.” I smiled. 

“Wait- that’s a Croat hotspot.” She sat up suddenly, her jaw dropping. “How long were you there?” 

“Two years.” 

“And you survived?! No bites? You’re not one of ‘em, right?” 

“I’m immune.” I shrugged, frowning a bit. “Never figured out why, but I’ve been bitten at, scratched, and never came out with a single goddamn piece of sulphur in my blood. It’s relievin’, but unsettlin’.” 

“Unsettling? That’s a damn blessing.” 

“It’s that I don’t know where they come from.” I sighed, looking down. “They just came to me when I was nineteen. No explanation, no nothin’, all I knew is that they were there.” 

“Damn, that’s…” She trailed off, frowning. “that’s rough.” 

“I lived, clearly.” I chuckled. “Besides, I had my uncle to help with the worst of it. Until we got separated, and I had to quite literally fend for myself out there.” 

We sat in silence for a moment, which was all I needed, if I’m bein’ honest.

“So…” I heard someone chuckle, and I turned to see James. “I heard you were the new thing pissing Dean Winchester off.” 

“That’s me.” I smirked. “And I wear that like a badge of honour.” Then I looked him up and down, thinking. Dude had a really good body, that was enough to tell under the strained khaki shirt that made his frame look more impressive and complimented his green eyes, paired with fluffy black hair. “Nice build. You ex-military or somethin’?” 

“Uh, no.” He chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair. “I used to be a detective sergeant. The muscles just came with the job.” 

“You used to be a cop?” I grinned, then saluted jokingly. “Thanks for your service.” 

“No problem. What about you? Any job before this?” 

“Hunting, and more hunting, and more hunting-“ 

“With hunting as the cherry on top.” He joked. 

“That’s right.” 

“James!” Chuck came running up, frantically looking at a clipboard. “I’d ask Dean, but he’s out on a mission. We’re running low on edibles, how should we ration?” 

“Women and children first.” James answered instantly, and I listened carefully. “Then ration with the elders, afterwards divvy it out to the rest.” 

“Wait, Chuck,” I frowned, “how much is left? How much food?”

”Not enough to last a week.” Chuck replied.

“Then rationin’ it out is gonna be extremely difficult. With the amount of people in this camp and enough food to last a week, the women and children are gonna have everythin’.” I frowned. “You need to send out a squad for supply retrieval. Nearest abundance of food I know’s in Missouri.” 

“We need Dean’s permission for that.” James raised an eyebrow, turning to me. “And he’s on a mission, left this mornin’.” 

“Not nearly enough time. He’s hittin’ a Croat hotspot, he could be back after a week and by that time we’ll be in crisis. Scramble a team of semi-automatic experts, take a Jeep, hit Missouri, it’s the only option.”

“The boss is gonna be pissed.” Chuck scoffed. “And how do we know your plan is valid?” 

“It actually works.” James agreed, nodding with a disbelieving look. “We’ve got enough men on hand to form a scavenge team, and Missouri’s the nearest state that we haven’t hit and isn’t a Croat infested wasteland.” 

“Not my fault if your ass gets busted by Dean.” 

“I don’t think it matters.” I retorted. “If people are starvin’, you need to do what’s necessary, not what the doctor ordered. Get a team together and send it out, see if I’m wrong.” 

“You are.” 

“Try me.” 

Winchester’s Jeep came back a week later with the med supplies, unloading them quickly. I looked up from where I was busy hauling a duffel bag, and the first thing he noticed was the people eating in a corner, his eyebrow raising. Then he turned to Chuck, conversing with him for a moment before I pinpointed the exact moment he saw red. His nostrils flared, jaw clenching along with his fist. I turned to James, sharing a look with him. 

We’re screwed. 

“JAMES!” Winchester yelled, now sipping a beer can. “RAINER! YOUR ASSES, MY TENT, NOW!” I rolled my eyes, running a hand through my hair as Risa whistled lowly. 

“Boss man seems mad.” She whispered. “Better go before he gets more pissed off. I’ll take that.” She took a hold of the duffel bag, and James and I made our way into Winchester’s tent, where he was standing there, cocking his rifle in a way that would seem threatening to a wuss. 

“You.” He pointed at James, who instantly stood straighter, the latter’s Adam’s apple bobbing. “You’re my second for a reason. Without contacting me, you authorised a raid that could have gone south so quickly. What got into you, huh?! Are you thick? Or a dumbass?” 

“With all due respect, boss, we would have starved.” James answered calmly, which seemed to aggravate Winchester even more. 

“That’s besides the point! What if we’d lost men? If someone had gotten turned? That blood would be on your hands, no one else’s!”

“With absolutely no respect whatsoever, I think he made a good call.” I stepped in with a frown, folding my arms. 

“I’m getting to you.” He snapped, pointing at me before rounding back on James. However, I wasn’t gonna take that for an answer. 

“I’m afraid you‘ll have to deal with me now.” I retorted, setting my jaw. “Fact remains that I suggested the only plan that worked in your absence when you were gone a week, and your second in command, the one who’s makin’ the decisions when you’re not here, led a squad, and they got back. Alive. Now people have food and water and they can remain sane. I don’t see how that’s a problem for you, or anyone, for that matter.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Ooh, make me.” 

He pulled his gun out, pointing it at me. “Do not make me pull this trigger-“ 

“Dean!” James yelled, stepping in front of me. “Are you insane?!” 

“She’s a smartass!” 

“Hey, hey, put it down!” 

“You don’t give the orders!” 

“To hell with orders!” James retaliated, making me raise an eyebrow. Damn, boy. “She helped. She made the layout for the strike squad. She’s a smartass, sure, but she’s a useful smartass. A really damn useful one, because we could use an immune and/or psychic person right now.” 

“All the more reason for me to blow her brains out. She’s a goddamn psychic, and I haven’t had the best experiences with those bastards.” 

“Just see goddamn reason!” He persisted, holding his hands out. “Look, if she starts to go insane, or whatever it is happened with the rest of people like her, I’ll shoot her myself.” 

I snorted. “As if you could-“ 

“Work with me here.” 

“Fine.” 

“Just…” James left a pause as he tried to find the words, “give her a chance.” Winchester paused for a moment, then lowered the gun, not without giving me a steely warning look. 

“Ok.” He nodded, glancing at me briefly, “But you’re keepin’ her in check. If she steps out of line, it’s your ass.” 

“Again, with no due respect, I can handle myself.” I scoffed. “You don’t need to post a bodyguard on me every five seconds.” 

He let out a dark chuckle, his lips pursing when he stopped. “You’re actin’ like you have a choice.” 

“Oh, yeah, I do.” I nodded. “Cause you’re in no position to order me around, since there’s clearly a power imbalance here.” 

The words made him stop and rethink, and then he gritted his teeth. “Get out.” 

“Gladly.” I smirked, walking out gratefully, happy to be away from that- “Douchebag.” 

“Jackass.” Dean growled under his breath. 

Well, that couldn’t have gone better.