#can i fight the shitty refrigerator?

[goldenstorm0]

in one of those moods where I want to fight someone

no one here to fight tho

I do not like this

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 138 }

butterfly kisses.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

the moment jinwoo came home from his duties as a hunter, you knew that he was upset.

his eyes were still glowing a vibrant purple the moment he unlocks the door to your shared apartment and slams it shut. you greet him as per usual, waiting just a few feet away from the door with a gentle smile on your face like the adoring lover that you were-

yet the moment his harsh gaze met with your eyes, you were taken aback by the sheer coldness in them.

it was during moments like these that you received a harsh reminder of just who your boyfriend was. he was chosen as the next shadow monarch, seeming to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders as he fought for those he wished to protect.

but the rest of the world had yet to realize just how amazing your beloved was, which had to play a part in his stressful expression at this very moment.

momentarily paralyzed by his piercing gaze, you found yourself unable to move, sensing his powers of darkness coursing through your very veins as he kept his icy gaze honed in on you. only when he sees the momentary fear in your eyes does his expression soften just the tiniest bit.

he greets you by saying your name, hands already giving the top of your head gentle pats as he disappears into the restroom. you remain rooted on the spot, not moving until you heard the sounds of the shower running.

letting out a gentle sigh, you run your fingers across your hair before going into the kitchen. you already had jinwoo’s portion of dinner warmed up and ready for him, yet you knew that he wouldn’t have much of an appetite when he was angry like this. with careful movements, you place his dinner in a container, making sure that it was as neat as possible before refrigerating it.

throughout the entire duration of his shower, you spent the time cleaning up the kitchen; doing mundane things like washing the dishes and cleaning the countertops with a wet handkerchief. even when you heard jinwoo stop showering, listening intently as the sounds of his footsteps padded into your shared bedroom, you lingered in the kitchen and waited several minutes.

only when you were confident that jinwoo was already settled in bed did you finally decide to join him. your own footsteps were calm and quiet, not wishing to startle your beloved boyfriend when he already seemed to be so on edge.

with a soft smile, you open the door of your shared bedroom to see jinwoo staring blankly at the ceiling. his eyes no longer glowed against the darkness, its shade returning to its usual, stormy grey hue. he hears your footsteps and trails his eyes over to where you stood, still hiding behind the door.

he chuckles while lifting up his hand, motioning at you to come join him in bed.

“what are you doing, you dork? come over here so i can hold you in my arms. after how shitty and stressful my day was, i could use some cuddles.”

jinwoo’s voice was filled with love and adoration now, and you could tell that he was feeling infinitely better after his shower, taking the time to destress as he allowed his aching muscles to bask in the warmth of the hot waters.

letting out a happy giggle, you give him a nod while entering your shared bedroom. closing the door from behind you, you finally reach the bed-

but avoid laying down on your side of the mattress completely, choosing instead to lay above his broad chest. jinwoo’s eyebrows were raised in a questioning glance, yet he remains utterly still, allowing you to do whatever you wished to do to him.

with a sigh of his name, you allow your fingertips to brush over his damp, ebony locks of hair. you continue to massage his scalp, basking in his grunts of pleasure before peppering his features with sweet, butterfly kisses.

your soft touch was often filled with an unfamiliarity to jinwoo, for most of his time spent as a hunter left him feeling the immense pain that came with fighting. every fist to his face causes the veins to burst as he could taste the coppery blood within his mouth. every tackle felt when monsters and beasts alike lunged at him was enough to break his very bones-

yet your kisses were enough to show him the beauty of a simple touch; he was able to experience a different side of physical touch felt against his skin without the crescendo and promise of pain.

you were treating him as if he were still the weakest hunter in the world, your kisses against his skin being no heavier than dew. instead of ruining this gentle and intimate moment with words, jinwoo remains silent while basking in your butterfly kisses.

as your lips trailed over his skin, the soft touch was nothing short of your absolute worship of him. you treat your beloved with such an aching softness that made jinwoo’s breath hitch in response. from kissing his cheek, to trailing your lips against his temple, to finally pressing a lingering kiss upon his closed eyelids-

you never once stopped treating him with a gentleness that was still so foreign to jinwoo.

if you could, you would have spent the entire night littering your boyfriend’s face with such kisses, yet his annoyed grunt and the way he held your chin in a vice grip was what ultimately made you stop.

when he forces you to look at him, his gaze was a lazy one, grey eyes darkening slightly due to how dilated it had become in response to the pure love he felt for you.

“what gives? you keep on missing my lips like that, then you know i’m gonna get mad.”

jinwoo’s tone was relaxed, and when he gently leans in to kiss your lips, you could do little but sigh in response, basking in the feeling of perfection the moment he slots his lips against yours. he keeps you distracted by the kiss, deepening it ever so slightly when he holds your body close to his chest before laying you back down against the plush mattress.

you continue to kiss him, feeling your hair remain fanned out against the pillows as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him even closer to you as jinwoo remained in a lip lock with you.

only when the need for air proved to be too much did jinwoo finally pull away from you. he smiles down at you while leaning forward to press a kiss against your forehead.

“thanks for cheering me up, honey. let’s sleep now… i’m exhausted and desperately need you in my arms in order to sleep.”

you nod in agreement with a soft giggle, feeling jinwoo lay back in bed as he took your compliant body within his arms. his embrace was a secure one, and you just knew that he would do everything in his power to keep you in his arms all night long tonight.

the room silent, with only the sounds of your soft breathing permeating at the air. you listen as jinwoo sighs one last time, letting out a yawn while pressing a kiss against your hair.

“goodnight love.”

“goodnight, my beloved monarch.”

you feel his smile against your hair before he lays down against the bed, pressing your back against his chest as he fell into a deep sleep while spooning you. being surrounded by his warmth, you couldn’t stop your eyes from feeling heavy, unable to focus nor stay awake as you fell asleep within the arms of your soulmate.

a.n. - lmaooo at this rate i will never be able to stop writing for jinwoo sung. save meeee, i love him too much to stop 😭🙏🏻

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[icyhottodo]

die for you | k.bg

summary: bakugo comes home all bruised up.

contains: cursing (it's bakugo, what did you expect? ), mentions of blood and injuries, pre-established relationship, gn reader and mean people.

wc: 0.9k

"what happened to you?!" you exclaimed, your boisterous voice heard throughout the apartment. you saw bakugo come home with a black eye and soot all over his clothes and face. there were even some cuts, allowing some of bakugo's blood to seep through his skin.

you told bakugo to sit on your shared bed and change into comfortable clothes while you went to the bathroom, where the first aid kit was placed. even though bakugo is one of the top heroes and has been in many gruesome fights, he always gets patched up in the hospital or with the recovery girl, who never fails to heal bakugo’s wounds. but bakugo wasn’t on patrol this time; he told you earlier that he was going to have a fun outing with kirishima. you would expect your lover to come home happy and safe, not all beaten up. so what happened?

"nothing," bakugo said sharply. his voice can still be heard from where you stand. bakugo sounded like he was trying to regain his breath, to which you assumed he ran back home.

walking back to where bakugo sat, you stood in between his legs. you start grabbing clean, non-alcoholic wipes to clear off the dirt and dried blood on his skin. you grabbed his calloused hands and arm, beginning to wipe them off. upon noticing red knuckles, your eyebrows furrowed deeper. you decided not to say anything about it, but you had your assumptions.

you let out a heavy sigh, breaking the deafening silence between the two of you. you start cleaning the filth on his face, stopping for a second to hold his face with both of your hands. slightly squishing his hidden chubby cheeks. "i won't ask for the details, but bakugo. i thought you were trying to stop being so short-tempered."

"i am! it's just…" bakugo groaned at your slight nagging. nonetheless, he leans adoringly into your touch, making his cheeks even more prominent. "it's just that while i was hanging out with shitty hair, i came across those shitty classmates you had back in high school, and they were talking shit about you. i couldn’t just walk away without doing anything."

you didn't have a tasteful relationship with your previous classmates. they weren’t precisely outright bullies with anyone, but they talked badly about a lot of people in your year, including you.

you stayed quiet about this information but went ahead to disinfect his wounds. because you chose to say nothing, bakugo became secretly nervous. usually, bakugo could care less what people thought about his lunatic actions. despite that, bakugo extremely cares about what you have to think about because, well, he is in love with you.

"what did they say about me?" this made almost all of bakugo’s worries wash away; you weren't exactly mad at him. but he can hear the slight tinge of insecurity in the tone of your voice, which made him hold onto your hand and squeeze it lightly in an effort to comfort you.

"they were questioning how we were dating, saying you ‘are ugly," and if you bribed me to become your significant other. they said more things, but i started seeing red by then." bakugo rolls his eyes, reliving the situation.

"you can ask kirishima more about what they said. i tuned out everyone’s voices once i landed a punch. and yes, shitty hair is okay." the crimson-eyed man added, knowing that you would ask about the red riot hero, too. you told bakugo to stay put while you went to the kitchen to grab an ice pack from the refrigerator; you were going to treat that distinct black eye he got.

"close your eyes," you instructed, after going back to your original spot in front of bakugo. preparing his ice pack, you suddenly felt two arms wrapping around your waist, then they pulled you into your boyfriend’s embrace. the scent of caramel engulfed your senses, and the warmth spread throughout your body.

"i don’t care if i’m hurt. can’t i just cuddle with you instead of you nagging at me?" his muffled voice becomes apparent when he snuggles his face against your chest. you let out a long exhale at your boyfriend’s request.

while you were glad bakugo had stood up for you, you wouldn’t want him to come home every day looking beaten up. sure, bakugo has faced scarier things, or he has been in far more pain than he is right now. but that never helped you worry less about your lover.

"when your black eye stops swelling, then we can cuddle," you instructed as you put the ice pack on his bruised right eye. the sudden contrast of his warm skin made bakugo hiss at the coldness suddenly put on him, and maybe secretly at the fact that you denied his offer of affection.

"thank you for protecting me, bakugo. but there are other ways to defend me other than throwing hands." although you first denied bakugo’s request, you pushed him softly to lie down on the bed.

"love, i would die for you. rather than using 'my words'." bakugo deadpans.

you ignored bakugo's comment, as you pulled up the blanket to cover both of your bodies and wrapped your arms around bakugo, to which he grumbled out of happiness. you pecked bakugo on the cheek and said, "thank you for loving me, bakugo."

[struckd0wn]

Hi I just wanted to say I love your writing! Your Hanzo piece is so good.

I normally don't send requests but I figured I'd do it for once :)

Could you write something with either Ghost or Bruce Wayne with a transmasc reader that just wants to be held and taken care of? Fluff or smut is good <3

AHH THANKS, I'M GLAD YOU LIKED IT <3 !!! I would love to write for you, I hope it lives up to your expectations :3

P.S sorry this took me a bit to respond to :P I had a bit of writers block -_-

In My Arms ── Bruce Wayne

Bruce Wayne x transmasc reader

CW: slur used and some transphobia, Bruce Wayne has 0 relationship ship skills lol, he trying his hardest, body dysphoria and dysmorphia, self worth issues, little mental break down, overall just a shitty day for reader :(, fluff and smut, clit used to describe anatomy, riding ;), lots of kissing too

Your day has been, entirely, incredibly, shitty. You woke up for work late, your lateness extended by the period of time in which you stared at yourself in the mirror. You had to ignore it, dressing in your work shirt that felt too tight around your hips and waste, your thighs feeling suffocated from your pants. Maybe you'd ask your boss for a bigger size, maybe it would hide your figure. Somedays you felt extremely happy with your progress thus far into your transition, but others felt like you hadn't even started. Although flat chested now, you couldn't ignore the feminine curve you swore you saw in the mirror that night.

You worked the night shift at a corner store not far from the Wayne Manor. This schedule is what you preferred for you and Bruce, that way you would both work at night and come home early morning to sleep with one another. He hated it, he insisted you just stay home 24/7, you didn't need a job, he was rich and could take care of you. Bruce didn't want you adapting his horid sleep schedule just for him, let alone working when you really didn't need too.

Things like this reminded you that you and Wayne were entirely different. He was a billionaire, you were just some dude who worked at a corner store for minimum wage. Bruce was Gotham City's vigilante, you were his boyfriend that lived in his extravagant house... for free. To say you were jealous of your boyfriend was an understatement, but he didn't understand that. He is completely clueless. Bruce doesn't understand why you would need to work, but everytime he spend his money on you, you can't help but feel helpless, like he's giving you handouts. You don't want him to feel obligated to spend money on you or to have him feel taken advantage of.

But to be fair, you didn't understand fighting or saving lives like he did. You wish you could, you want to understand, but Bruce has no need to understand working to live. Then you resented yourself for being jealous of him, of your own boyfriend. He was rich with money to spend, with a side gig as savior of the city. You could never amount to that.

The bell to store entrance rings, pulling you from your thoughts. The clock reads 2:30am, this would probably be your last customer before you'd walk home to the manor. Your eyes follow the man that had entered the shop, clearly drunk. He uses the shelves to hold himself up, stumbling all over the place while gigging like an idiot. The man approaches the back where the walls are lined with refrigerators, grabbing an alcoholic beverage you can't name.

You watch as he waddles his way up to your register, looking you up in down with his canned alcohol. "Hey sweetheart," he starts, setting the can down in front of you. You can feel his eyes tracing down your figure. Ignoring him you take the beverage to scan it. "What, trannys can't say hello?" He asks you, leaning over the counter. A lump forms in your throat as you quietly read him his total. He clicks his tongue at you, pulling out a couple of bills to hand over. "You know what, I'll forgive you. What do you say you come to my place after work. I ain't never slept with one of you before, but hey, a pussys a pussy." You tell yourself to just get it over with, you have to deal with drunkies all the time, it's not any different.

"No thank you, have a good night." You tell him, handing him his change before promptly preparing for closing to distract yourself. The man grumbles, taking his drink and change out the door. In the last thirty minutes of your shift you clean up around the store, stock some shelves, and count the cash in the register. As you're collecting your belongs to leave you notice that the drunk man from before is posted up across the street, drinking from his can. You roll your eyes, making a plan to just go for it when he's distracted.

There's a bus just down the road and you wait for it to cross the store front, hoping maybe he wouldn't notice you leave. You turn the lights off and as soon as the bus passes you, you swiftly exist and lock the store up for the night. Speed walking doesn't help you though, hearing the footsteps of the man running to catch up to you. "Hey, wait up!" He calls out, but you just keep walking.

Eventually he reaches you, stepping in front of you to block your path. "Cmon now, my offer still stands," The man holds his arms out, moving with you so you don't get past him. You tell him no again, trying to push past his left arm. This time he grabs you by your waist, smirking down at you with his drunken expression. You push him off of you and before he can grab you again he hits the concrete with a loud thud. You blink down at him before a figure envelops him, throwing punch after punch at the man. It doesn't take you long to realize who it is.

"Hey, knock it off." You tell Bruce but he doesn't hear you, or maybe he does and just doesn't care. "Stop, Bru-... He's drunk, stop it." You grab your boyfriends arms, and with enough strength you pry him of the pervert. You watch his chest heave under his metal chest plate, staring down at the drunk angrily. Bruce holds you by your wrist, dragging you twords his bike, footsteps heavy in his boots.

The ride back home is silent but you can tell he's still upset by the way he speeds twords the manor. Once you make it back home, down in his lab of his tower, he helps you off his bike. Bruce removes his mask, seemingly his anger is replaced with worry as he near smothers you. "Are you ok? Did he hurt you?" He exclaims, holding your face in his gloved hands, but you just push past him.

"Yes Bruce, I'm fine. He was just drunk." You tell him as you make your way to the elevator, ready to just go to bed at this point. He follow you like a little dog, into the elevator, still examining you for injury.

"Him being drunk is not an excuse." He tells you a matter of factly.

"I'm not saying it's an excuse. I'm saying I could have handled it." And he doesn't say anything about that. You walk up the stairs and he's still following you, all his gear rattling and echoing throughout the manor. You make it up to the bedroom, attempting to close the door behind you but he pushes in with ease, not even acknowledging that you were trying to keep him out.

You sigh heavily, setting down your keys and jacket onto the dresser. "I told you you didn't have to work." Bruce starts up again, and by now you want to bang you head against the wall.

"I don't wanna talk about it." You say.

But he persists, pacing around the room in his armor. "I told you, you didn't have to change your schedule to match mine."

"Bruce." You plead, but he again ignores you.

"You shouldn't be up all night, let alone walking home at three in the morning." He continues.

You stand there in awe as he rambles on, alls while taking off his gear. He makes it sound like you can't take care of yourself, like you're his damsel in distress. "Bruce I said-"

"Do you know the things I see at night? What did he say to you, what did he say before I got there?" Bruce exclaims twords you.

By now you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes before you snap. "Bruce, I said I don't wanna talk about it!" You yell over his rambling, this time he turns to look at you. You're too far gone now, tears roll down your cheek as you sob, desperately trying to wipe them away with the back of your hand. He stops what he's doing, during all of that he has managed to get everything off but the pants he wears under his suit. "I don't need your rescuing or money, I just need you to listen!" You tell him through broken sobs. "I know I'm not rich like you, I know I'm not as strong as you but that doesn't mean I'm completely helpless." You feel like you could just crumble, Bruce is almost speechless.

He's on you within a second, large hand hold your face but he can't wipe away the avalanche of tears that stream down your puffy cheeks. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean it to sound like that..." He whispers over your sobs. The build up from everything today has finally set in, and now that it has started it wasn't gonna stop. You allow Bruce to undress you from your work clothes, replacing them with one of his baggy shirts and a pair or your boxers. He sits you down on the edge of your shared bed as he dresses himself in a pair of his sweatpants, quickly returning to your side.

Your boyfriend tucks the two of you into the bed. Your crying has reduced to small sniffles, Bruce continues to wipe your face dry, but it can't get rid of the redness in your eyes. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I was just worried, I should have listened to you the first time." His apology mixes with explanation, and although you understand where's he's coming from you'd wish he'd just do this first before scolding you. You'd wish he'd understand he didn't need to take care of you physically, you could've handled some drunk, you just needed his help emotionally. To tell you it was gonna be ok, it's all over now. Without the "I told you so" in between.

"I know you could've handled it, I just...couldn't stop myself." He admits to you. You stare at him and he stares back as he holds you. You almost laugh at his admission, he wasn't just looking out for you, the guy had seriously just ticked him off. He didn't do it cause he thought you couldn't handle it, he did it because some rando was trying to touch up on his boyfriend. Maybe he was scared to admit that word for word, but you could read him like a book.

Bruce leans into you, pressing a kiss to your lips and you egg him own, pressing further into him. His hands find their way under you shirt as he continues kissing you, gripping at your flesh like he might loose you if he let's go. "I'll ask Alfred to order us some things to eat. We can eat while me watch a movie, hm?" He tells you between kisses, you nod quickly at his suggestion. You move you hands up to to hold his face, kissing him again. His stuble feels nice under you finger as you deepen the kiss. Wayne does not object, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

You part your lips slightly, allowing him access into your mouth. Bruce is still a bit awkward and clumsy when is comes to these things, mostly because this is the first relationship he's ever gotten this far with someone. He's hesitant but eventually his tongue meets yours as they messily collide with each other. His hand are rough compared to the smooth skin of your torso, they almost feel like sand paper as they roam over your sides.

You push in further, until you are fully saddled on top of him, never breaking the kiss. "Help me Bruce." You plead with him, his face is bright red and he just nods at the suggestion. You sit upwards onto you knees, pulling your boxer shorts down in front of him. Bruce is silent but his hand slowly inch down to your fully exposed thighs, his thumb reaches out the brush against you clit. The feeling makes you flinch as your boyfriend works on removing his own pants.

He doesn't even bother removing them all they way before he's pulling you down by your hips. The stretch around his cock is almost painful, but you immediately forgot about everything bad that has happened today, even the part where you snapped at him. Bruce peppers your face with kisses, waiting for you to adjust before moving. You start moving on your own, slowly pulling off of his length. Wayne throws his head back, hitting the headboard with a thud, his hands squeezing at your hips.

When you slam back down your moan is loud and Bruce moves to covers your mouth. He is clearly embarrassed but his smile is wide as you sit there watching each other. "I'd love to hear you but... I don't want to disturb Alfred." You almost slap yourself for it. That would surly be an awkward conversation, although you think Alfred would be entirely understanding. You nod and the two of you continue. Bruce guides you up and down his cock, his groans muffled as he too struggles to keep himself quiet. You face is buried into his shoulder, letting out a small squeek each time he's pushed back deep inside you. You feel like a teenager who's at your boyfriends house, trying to keep quiet because the partners are in the next room over.

Your can feel the build up in your stomach, it's getting more and more difficult to not scream out loud in pleasure. Bruce is starting to fail at it, his breathing rushed and his moans escape his parted lips. He thrusts up into you, desperate for release which comes mere seconds later. You watch his eyebrows furrow as he cums inside of you, his twitching causes you to orgasm soon after, biting down on his shoulder to be as silent as possible. You whimper weekly, pulling yourself off of him slowly. The two of you lay side by side, ignoring the mess that clings to the both of you and the sheets.

You watch his heaving chest settle, noticing the bite marks you left. Your finger reaches out to brush over it with an embarrassed smile. "Sorry..." You whisper, but Bruce doesn't mind, shrugging his shoulder as he pulls you in to cuddle.

──

By now it is early morning, Bruce is awake, finishing the movie the two of you had put on while you ate. The cheap take out containers of the restaurant you had gotten him hooked on littered the coffee table, and the bruise you left on his shoulder aches. It's a lovely reminder. Bruce sat this his back leaned against the arm of the couch, and you had fallen asleep in between is legs with you face resting on his lower abdomen. He watches you sleep, playing with your hair as he did. He would ask you about the his lack of understand once you had woken up, but for now he will hold you here, in his arms.

[icarus-suraki]

Today has not been going Super Great.

First I had nightmares all last night, mostly about Saw traps on a college campus (in broad daylight, including a bunch of us nearly drowning inside a cafe that was practically made out of windows) and then, because I survived the first rounds (which included a Battle Royale situation later and I was killing people??? with an axe?????), I had to go up against the final boss, who was this huge, robed, hooded being--and I mean huge like 8 or 10 feet tall and just about as wide--who was both attacking me (or sending his minions to attack me, who were launching pens and colored pencils at me, which I had to knock aside before they fucking stabbed me, which happened a few times and it fucking hurt) and also asking me questions about obscure history and literature facts and it was like a fucking Dark Souls final boss battle because it just went on and on and on and then I beat him but that turned out to be just round one of three and, by the way, I was having to fight this thing inside the house were I grew up and I was exhausted and trying to get out of having to keep fighting him (even if I did get a good hit on him and tore open the cloth mask on his face, which showed his evil smile). And he could come back for the second round any time and I'm trying to hide and I can't hide because he keeps showing up in weird places (he replaced the floor of my room, for example).

And then I woke up with a migraine, because that’s just hypermobility for you, complete with pain, dizziness, nausea, light sensitivity, the whole nine (no aura though--yet). So I'm stumbling around, trying to find the ibuprofen and get in the shower and go to work. I have no ready caffeine sources to hand, so I figure I'll hit up the vending machine at work.

But no, the vending machine is not working. So I'm hunting for freebies in the refrigerators and all I can find is a Dr. Pepper. A zero sugar Dr. Pepper. And I'm not a huge fan of Dr. Pepper, but caffeine is caffeine and I have two meetings today, so I'm just like, well, it's medicinal.

Unfortunately migraines also make me more clumsy, so I fukcing knocked the bottle over on my desk. At least the cap was on, but it still fizzed all over and I have a meeting in 15 minutes in my office, so I'm wiping up my entire desk with some Lysol wipes and shitting institutional paper towels and now my caffeine source is just about obliterated and my head still hurts and the Lysol fumes aren't helping.

At least my desk is clean now. And I'm done with one meeting. My head still kind of hurts and I'm really tired. I'm doing my best with shitty coffee from the downstairs machine (which I was trying to avoid, hence the prescription from Doctor Pepper) and trying to stick it out through the afternoon.

Thoughts and prayers please.

[lonespektr]

October 1st HORROR WATCH

The Angry Black Girl and her Monster

Rough opening already straight shot to her bloody brother locs partially covering a whole in his head then up to her braids

Woof double trauma mother already shot dead years past caught a stray , future doctor

Women in STEM

The brother was involved in a gang - bloods

Father is sick

"The opening line was death is a disease"

The first thing she refers to is not her name but

"the mad scientist"

Lil one is quizzing the periodic table

Super soaker fight in the yard / peak summer bliss

Lots of tight shots of the gang members bandanas instead of their faces, the non gang member community members have faces

Lil one: you think you are smart because you go to that white school

White school is smart because I go there

She is hyperverbal and nerds out to random people's faces

Lil bit says you got ketchup on your glasses

Another young one is trying to enter her secret lab where she's keeps the bodies

She nerds out again

Youngin says life is cheap we are all headed for the grave whilst sucking a ring pop he is affiliated

She confesses her grand plan

He gets wide eyed realization saying you are the body snatcher

She says JK

White school: she won't shut up wants to debate the teacher, autistic babes

Teacher mispronouncing her name, purposely, she says oh we are just making up names i guess bitch is fine for you 😮😮

Teach already called security to have her removed

Take down

Dad is here to talk to teach

Dad is very aggressive and says you can't call the police every time you have a petty squabble because you're an adult point us to the college counselor because obviously she's brilliant and going to college

Lil sis said straight up to everyone's face she is going to cure death

Ooo very creepy laughter during autopsy

They aren't talking about how she is preserving the tissue

Very gruesome patch job

They are moving towards her as psychotic a bit

Another shooting

She looks like she's trying to scoop up another corpse

It's the little one

Her acting here was bordering on arousal then sadness (at the recognition) then anger then determination

She just got her hair touched up now she's sleeping without a scarf

Reference to the original title for mary shelleys Frankenstein

(or the Modern Prometheus)

EKG didn't revive a kid but of course it will revive her corpse

Stil no refrigeration for tissue decay

Jumper cables

Giant electric field

Siphoning power from the whole block

Lightning crack sounds ⚡⚡⚡

Almost started a fire

Body looks bloated

The kid asked about a smell before he got killed

He's ALIVE!!!!

He knocked her down but he's still in the lab

He's groaning, no speech

Comprehension though

She's trying to get the drugs off the streets

Gets caught gang banger interceeds

Brother (chris) chokes him out , mostly

She locked him inside without saying anything???

The gang bangers obvs know her

Heyyy it's Denzel Whitaker

Gang leaders are always smarty pants and they reason she's a friggin genius and can cook for them instead of just killing her

Don't be slamming my door and Hawaiin shirt ass nigga

I know there are black writers in the room

Lil bit saw Chris

Other's have seen him

So he's out

Why hasn't she gone to see him??

Who does she keep running away from home??

She wanted him back??

She just keeps screaming- he's disfigured, that's her fault, he maimed - to defend her

And the little girl is hanging out with him

Ok this is the first answer we have gotten "he's dangerous"

Forgot to mention the shitty dark skinned brothers light skinned brothers

Family dinner

Poor Chris is watching from the hole in the wall

Father with the wisdom "you can take in more than one idea"

Cop knock supplant a monster knock

Chris has run in with cops oddly enough the first time we hear him speak is to the police 🤔🤔🤔

They shoot him which obviously doesn't work kills two more cops

Goes home but ends up fighting dad?? Why they were talking ,? Dad freaked out

Muscle killed the head gang banger due to frustration about the guy Chris injured finally passing in hospital plus he saw chris and is freaked out

Dad is dead 😥

Muscle comes after protag

Head gang banger to the rescue

Chris kills the muscle in probably the most brutal graphic scene

Chris just keeps trying to reach out to his sister 😥😥

It's gang banger protag team up to kill chris and now that she's decided to she's started calling Chris "it" 😢😢

Lil bit is covered in blood in her lab

But uninjured

Lil bit says chris was different after he interacted with the police, but before he was fine

Gang banger retrieves her gear at the cost of his life

Protag honors the gang member with his bandana like they do

I would have liked him to verbalize why he was protecting the girl who was messing with his drugs and his money

She's doing a lot of screaming and running

Did she actually want him back or did she just want to cure death?

She never once reached out to him after her initial experiment proved less than perfect

Her father, lil bit reached out

She never did

She flipped the switch

"I'm a monster." Frankenstein said

Then passed

He's a monster because they called him one

Lil bit reveals chris killed her entire family

Very nonchalantly and goes back to playing blocks

Like you sure you can't resurrect them??

She's going to try again

Welp 2nd times the charm with a fresh corpse

The pregnant womans who's baby's name is

Drumroll: victor

And we do get a verbal "HE'S ALIVE!!! HE'S ALIVE"

So black girls in STEM

[luvdsc]

mark lee sucks at technology.

tap the heart if you have a big, fat, embarrassing crush on your best friend!

pairing :: lee mark x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + social influencer au word count :: 5,883 words warnings :: none playlist :: dumb stuff (lany) ⋆ feeling (coin) ⋆ so far so good (gabrielle aplin) ⋆ electric love (børns) ⋆ love by mistake (bad suns) author’s note :: i was debating if i should post it on his bday instead, but i decided to drop it earlier, so uh, happy (approx. one week early) bday to mister absolutely fully capable (except when it comes to tech stuff) !!!! thank you for blessing us with your god tier raps ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

In your required upper division business course aptly titled “Essential Marketing Strategies,” you had learned about a concept called personal brands. A personal brand is explained as the first impression a person wishes to perceive based on their own experiences, qualifications, and achievements. Your professor had told you and your classmates to pick three words to define your own brand. For instance, you chose to label yourself as charismatic, fun, and creative.

Your best friend’s brand would be awkward, endearing, and technologically challenged. 

Okay, so that is definitely more than three words, but who’s counting? You might as well tack on “Y/N’s big fat crush” at this rate because everyone and their mother knows that you carry a torch—or more accurately, a blazing wildfire that can easily be spotted from Pluto—for your best friend.

Well, to be more precise, you should probably say everyone, except Mark, knows. And that’s not for lack of trying either. You completely dropped the art of delicate subtlety months ago already. Maybe you should add “hopelessly oblivious” instead.

The rolling end credits to the sixth Harry Potter film are playing on the screen in front of you, signaling the nearing end of your magical movie marathon. You’re seated on the worn down couch in Mark and Donghyuck’s shared apartment, watching the former make his drink with the fancy, gently used Keurig newly settled on the scratched countertop. Johnny dropped it off a few days ago because he had splurged on a better coffee machine (“It even makes Instagram worthy whipped frappuccinos!”) and didn’t want his old, but still perfectly functioning caffeine provider going to waste.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” Mark slaps the side of the machine, and it starts to emit a low whirring noise. “Oh, that’s good, right? That sound is good, you think?”

His question is immediately answered by the sad squirt of hot water speckled with coffee grinds falling into his mug for a few seconds before the machine shuts off.

“What the hell?” he mutters angrily, carding his hand through his hair in frustration, and you finally decide to take pity on your best friend. Getting up from the comfy spot you know you sadly won’t be able to recreate perfectly again later, you stride over to where your best friend stands and flip open the top of the Keurig.

“Hyuck didn’t take out his used coffee pod,” you say, pulling out the incriminating evidence of your best friend’s roommate and disposing it in the trash can next to the refrigerator. “Where’s the espresso one you’re gonna use? Why didn’t you put that in?”

His jaw slackens, and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze and mumbling, “I thought I’d just open it later and pour it into my hot water.”

“Mark,” you start, placing your hands on his shoulders firmly and staring into his eyes with a serious look on your face. “Please know that I’m saying this in the most loving way possible, but you are an absolute idiot.”

You release your grip on his shoulders and grab the espresso pod dangling from his fingertips before slotting it into the Keurig. You remove the mug he placed underneath the spout and wash out the accidental coffee water before placing it back in its original position and pressing the start button on the machine. With a sigh, you lean against the side of the counter, glancing at your friend who looks like a child being scolded for stealing from the cookie jar.

“If you pour the pod into your mug, are you just going to chug all the loose coffee grinds, too?”

“... I didn’t think that far ahead.” His lips start to unintentionally form a tiny pout, and your eyes (and your heart, too) soften.

You’re very relieved that Donghyuck is off filming with your friend because he definitely would be making fun of your heart eyes that frequently make an appearance around a certain Mark Lee. Which you always deny. Because you certainly do not have a gigantic crush on your technologically inept best friend.

You glance over at him again and have to physically fight yourself to resist the urge to kiss his cute pout away. Okay, so maybe you harbor a very respectable, medium sized crush. But it's no big deal. It’s completely under control. Unless you’re counting the fact that your best friend is still unaware, and you’re running out of ideas to try and see if he likes you back before you actually shoot your shot. Then it’s very much not under control because you��re losing sleep over it and you don’t know what to do to be any more obvious without stating the, well, obvious.

“Well, now you know. If you forget, you can FaceTime me and I’ll give you instructions on how it works.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly before pausing. “Wait, you do know how to FaceTime, right?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, sulking even more before confessing in a quieter, defeated tone, “Hyuck showed me last month.”

Mark grabs his finished drink and follows behind you, settling back onto the couch next to you. The streaming service already has Deathly Hallows Part 1 in the queue and ready to go, and your best friend is ready to click play until he notices your attention being focused on the smaller screen in your hands. He wonders if you’re about to post another one of your popular cooking videos on that app that shares a name with the most iconic song of the 2000s (hint: the name of the song’s singer is made up of four letters and a dollar sign).

“Are you uploading one of your videos?” he implores before taking a sip of his drink with a satisfied smile. Somehow, it always tastes better when you make it, and he can’t figure out why for the life of him. When he went to Johnny’s place, his older friend uses the exact same pod and water ratio for his espresso, and yet, it’s never as good as yours.

“Nah, I’m ordering my grocery delivery before I forget. Do you want anything?” You select the option to load your usual grocery items into your cart before debating on whether or not you should splurge on buying several packages of those seasonal Pillsbury sugar cookies that only come in stock during certain holidays. It seems like such an insult to the entire premise of your Tiktok account based on baking and cooking, but you’re an absolute sucker for those soft pastries.

“Yeah, can you get me a Shin Ramyun ten pack? Hyuck ate the last one two days ago and didn’t tell me.”

“You sure you don’t want ten boxes again?” You decide to get those Pillsbury sugary delights, happily adding three boxes to your cart. Everybody has a weakness, and yours just so happens to be a premade one way ticket to diabetes. You’re here for a good, delicious time, not a long time.

“No! That was an accident!” He objects, flailing his hands around, before falling back against the couch cushions in defeat. “But Hyuck does all the online grocery shopping now.”

“Thank god. You guys finally have quality toilet paper again.”

The past month of bathroom occurrences was plagued with scratchy tissue that felt more like goddamn sandpaper from the horrible depths of hell. To be honest, you probably would have rather used actual sandpaper, given the choice. You even made sure not to drink too much water any time you came over, but today, you decided to splurge on a venti passion fruit iced tea with sweetener from that very popular franchise sporting a mermaid logo and fiscally cosmic name. To your pleasant surprise, your trip to the toilet this time was wonderfully padded with Charmin Ultra Soft, not that absolutely awful off brand one with the gross texture of a dried pinecone from inferno.

“Hey, that toilet paper was a good steal! It was a three for one deal,” Mark protests, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Wow, I wonder why it was priced so low.” You deadpan, and Mark blanches, recalling all those restroom incidents that were rather rough. Literally.

“Anyway, do you think my viewers wanna see me make chocolate crinkle cookies or mochi doughnuts?” You bring up the two recipes you managed to perfect and add your own spin to on your phone, eyes scanning the ingredient lists.

“Both. And tell me when you’re making them, so I can come over and eat them.” He gives you a wide grin, and you let out a snort at that. His smile only grows as he says happily, “I love your job.”

“You only love it because you can freeload off of me,” you jest, but nevertheless begin to start to add all the ingredients for both recipes to your shopping cart. You always film cooking videos on Tuesdays, edit on Wednesdays, keep Thursdays free for last minute touch ups and emergencies, and post one every week on Fridays with other various random videos uploaded whenever in between. With that in mind, you schedule your upcoming grocery delivery for Monday.

“Hey, you need me. I’m the best taste tester.” He puffs up his chest proudly before hastily tacking on a more genuine reason. “And because I’d starve without you. I can’t live off of instant ramen and frozen chicken nuggets forever. Gordon Ramsay already confirmed my shitty cooking skills. I need you to survive.”

“Oh my god, when I uploaded those pics of your scrambled eggs on Twitter, I lost like a hundred followers in less than a minute.” You confirm the delivery and place your phone on the coffee table, picking up the opened bag of Cheeto puffs before settling back in your seat. “My cooking credibility was completely shot. I had to explain to my fans that I didn’t make those.”

“Yeah, but now everyone calls me Eggy Boi online!” he whines, and you laugh. You have to admit, it’s quite a funny play on the whole “edgy boi” terminology. You wonder if Mark will find it amusing if he discovers his roommate is the culprit behind his new online persona (He probably won’t, and you reckon Donghyuck enjoys living in a safe space where he doesn’t have to sleep with one eye open, so you stay quiet about it. You’ll use it as leverage some other time).

“Okay, Eggy Boi, come by on Tuesday because I’ll be baking in the afternoon,” you say casually, grabbing the remote control from your best friend and pressing play. 

You very narrowly avoid a green gummy bear to the face. It lands somewhere behind the couch, lost forever to the dust bunnies and other snacks that missed its target. You know for a fact that it’ll stay there until the boys decide to move to a new apartment. Mark grumbles at the miss, biting off the head of a red cherry flavored gummy bear perhaps a little harder than necessary.

“I hate you. But I’m still coming over next week because I want a doughnut.”

“No cookie?”

“... and a cookie. Maybe two.”

Wednesday comes faster than you expected, and you’re currently holed up in your apartment’s second bedroom—which you had transformed into a snazzy office space—completing the edits to your second video on mochi doughnuts. You already finished polishing the one about the cookies earlier, thank goodness. If you had to stare at your computer screen for another three hours, you would rather eat those pastries Mark tried to make two months ago, but had mistaken salt for sugar. Adding a cup of salt to any baked good is an extremely effective way to make anyone who tasted your best friend’s brownies experience a trip to the beach. Because they essentially just swallowed a mouthful of sand and ocean water. Because it’s salty as heck. Just like Mark was when you told him.

Speaking of your best friend, he’s currently puttering around in your kitchen doing god knows what. He knows better than to try another recipe and possibly blow up your number one moneymaker—your prized oven—in the process. Your heart nearly drops when your ears pick up the faint chopping sounds of a knife against your wooden cutting board. Is he going to try to temper chocolate again? He nearly burned through your entire stock of dark, milk, and white chocolate last time.

After much contemplation and deciding that you deserve a good procrastination break and a fully intact kitchen, you’re about to go out and see what he’s up to when Mark timidly appears in your doorway, clutching onto a white bowl of watermelon cubes with a fork tucked neatly in it. He shuffles in, dropping the snack on your desk before turning to walk out without a word, not wanting to disturb your work mode. 

Your heart warms up at the sight, and you speak up, a small smile slipping into your face. “What’s this for?”

“Knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” He pauses in the doorway and adds on sheepishly, “And I can't cook anything, so this is what you get.”

Your heart swells tenfold, and your smile widens even more as you spear a piece of fruit with the fork and quickly pop it into your mouth. “Thanks, Marky.”

His cheeks flush with a pretty shade of carmine, and he fails to suppress the little giddy smile that appears on his face at your nickname for him. He walks out of your office, reddened cheeks still rising up higher than ever. “Y-Yeah, of course. No problem.”

By the time you finish adding the final few touches to your edited video, the bowl of watermelon has been picked clean. You save your video and transfer both of your completed projects to your phone, making a mental note to schedule their uploads and add them to your account’s posting queue later. Shoving your phone in the pocket of your sweats after ensuring the successful transfer of your videos, you pick up the empty dish and walk out towards the kitchen, the silver fork clinking against the side of the bowl with every step.

As you wash the dish and utensil, Mark wanders over from his spot on the couch, leaning forward and casually placing his chin on your shoulder. Almost instantaneously, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you briefly fantasize about your best friend wrapping his arms around your waist and how domestic and sweet the two of you would look, like one of those cheesy couples the two of you always made fun of.

“What’s up?” you ask, making a conscious effort to hold your voice steady and not waver over the fact that Mark is basically draped over you. After you place the dish on the drying rack, you turn around to face your best friend, sorely miscalculating the distance as mere inches separate your face from his now.

“I—” Puberty decides to make an ugly appearance in the form of an ill timed voice crack, and he internally curses as he takes a step back, willing the incoming blush to go away. Letting out a small cough, he tries again, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I, um, Jisung sent me some kind of dance video. He said it’s a challenge? I kinda don’t know what to do with it? Like do I make a new dance, record myself, and send it back? Actually, isn't it easier to just do a dance battle face to face?”

“Can I see the video?” You already have a good idea on what the video will be, but you want to confirm it. Mark fumbles with his phone, pulling up the video in his text messages. He angles the phone towards you for you to see, and you grab his hand, bringing the device a little closer to you for a better look and clicking play.

“Oh, it’s a Tiktok challenge! He’s doing the Say So dance!” you exclaim, recognizing the song almost immediately as your eyes follow the fluid dance moves, completely enthralled. “So a challenge isn’t going up against someone, like a battle. It’s just some kind of trend or concept that you try to copy yourself. You’re supposed to learn the same dance and record yourself for this one. I can show you some other challenges and help you practice and record this one tomorrow if you wanna drop by after work!”

“O-Oh, okay, sounds good.” Mark stumbles over his words, attempting to focus on what you’re saying and the dance Jisung is doing, but all he can think about is the way your body is pressed against his side, hand comfortably wrapped around his. He freezes up as the tips of his ears grow redder and redder with every passing second, and his face sports a similar color. He silently prays for the telltale crimson to go away by the time the dance is over.

When the video ends, you once again realize the close proximity between you and your best friend. Your face burns at this revelation, and you awkwardly take a step back. Clearing your throat, you hastily release Mark’s hand (He inaudibly lets out the breath he’s been holding in this entire time, yet he also already misses the way your hand felt grasping his).

“Uh, anyway, I’m gonna make a latte. Do you want a drink, too?” You walk towards the other side of your kitchen with Mark trailing behind you. You take out a floral, peachy colored mug from your cupboards before pausing and looking at your best friend. “Wait, do you remember how to use a Keurig?”

“Yes!” He says, slightly exasperated as he picks out his own cup from your cabinet. He always uses the same one—a cerulean blue mug with squiggles all over it—and all of your friends and guests know not to use it because it’s unofficially officially Mark’s mug (And perhaps, you did indeed buy it from that overpriced kitschy tableware shop down the street two years ago with your best friend in mind).

“Really?” You select the latte option and press start after you had already positioned the mug beneath the spout and inserted a green tea matcha pod. He finally relents, shoulders sagging and a defeated expression on his face.

“... No.”

You chuckle, taking the mug from him and carefully putting it on the counter. You grab the espresso pod you know he likes from the drawer below and place it next to the cup. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you again.”

Mark tries. He really does. He tries very hard to concentrate on memorizing the simple process, but he keeps getting distracted. His eyes are focused on the correct button to push before they start to trail up to your fingertips. And then, they go from your hand to your arm, then up to the elegant curve of your neck, and finally, to the way your lashes frame your pretty eyes and how the tip of your tongue sticks out slightly as you concentrate until all he can focus on is you, you, you.

Suddenly, in what feels like a blink of an eye, you’re done and handing him his finished drink, complete with a perfectly whipped milk foam on top. You ask him if he knows how to make it now, and all he can do is lie and nod with a barely convincing smile.

After all, how can Mark tell his best friend that the reason he never remembers is because you’re the biggest distraction?

Mark should be here in five minutes, according to his most recent text message. And in the text message below that, your friend had sent you a challenge. More specifically, it’s the one she completed with Donghyuck a few weeks ago. When you said you wanted bold suggestions on how to figure out if your best friend feels the same way about you as you do about him, you didn’t want one this bold. 

Yet, the video link to your friend’s “today I kissed my best friend” challenge along with a winky face from her is staring mockingly at you. While you aren’t one to back down from a challenge, the mere thought of kissing your best friend causes vast colonies of butterflies to erupt in your stomach and your ears to feel as if they have caught on fire. You’re already tongue tied with your head in the clouds, and he isn’t even here yet. How utterly fantastic.

However, your mother definitely did not raise a quitter, so you spring into action when you hear the faint jingling of a key being inserted into your apartment’s door (You had given Mark a copy of your key almost immediately after you had moved in). You move the pretty indoor fern given to you by Jaemin as a housewarming gift last year closer to the edge of your towering bookcase, leaning your phone against it. You quickly position the device to capture a good view of the couch area in your living room and press the record button, arranging a few of the leaves to hide as much of your phone as you possibly can without obstructing the lens.

You run full speed to your bedroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you’re safely inside and hear Mark finally unlocking the door successfully and shuffling in. When he calls out to you, you try to even out your breathing, walking out of your room with your tripod and laptop in hand.

“Hey,” you greet him in the most casual tone you can muster. You place the tripod down and sit before opening your laptop and setting it on the coffee table. “I thought we could watch a few challenges for fun before trying the Say So one. Have you watched Jisung’s videos before?”

“Um, well, no, not really,” he confesses sheepishly, taking a seat next to you on the couch, leg pressing against yours. He squints at the YouTube video you pulled up earlier before he had arrived, reading the title before clicking the space button to start it. “Savage Tiktok dance compilation part two?”

“Wait, hold up.” You pause the video and then turn to face him with an incredulous expression on your face. “You’ve never watched any of Jisung’s dance Tiktoks?”

“No… I don’t even have an account.” His cheeks are dusted with the lightest shade of pink as he quietly admits, “I watch all of yours though.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, face heating up as you stammer out, “O-Oh, well, I can help you make an account later to upload your video.”

“Sounds good.” There’s a few seconds of silence as you mull over his previous words before he speaks up again awkwardly, “Should I, uh, play the video?”

“Oh! Yes, right! Of course, hit play,” you laugh nervously, twisting and playing with the hair tie around your wrist. He starts the video again, and the two of you watch the compilation, slowly relaxing once more as you tap your fingers to the rhythm of the song and he bobs his head to the beat.

“Do I have to change outfits like that?” he questions a few minutes later, eyes growing round as he sees the girl on the screen switch between four different outfits throughout the dance. His closet basically consists of the same five black shirts that he stole from Jaehyun. Even if he did do an outfit swap, there would literally be no difference at all.

“You don’t have to,” you assure him, clicking the enter key to play the next video that’s recommended: another Tiktok dance challenge compilation. “All you have to do is copy the dance.”

Mark nods, taking a glance at the laptop screen before his hand shoots out and he pauses the video, leaning forward to take a closer look at the little recommended video title banner at the top. “Wait! What’s that one?”

He clicks on it, the new video now loading up. The two of you wait patiently for it to begin, waiting for the spinning disc to stop. But it doesn’t. In fact, the whole chrome page goes blank and then, the little pixelated Google Chrome dinosaur pops up on your monitor, announcing that you have no internet connection. Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to reload the page before trying to re-establish your laptop connection to your wifi. Unfortunately, you cannot find your appropriately named “drop it like it’s hotspot” wifi anywhere to connect to.

And that’s when it hits you. Your landlord had sent out a notice to the entire apartment complex last week about the electricity being powered down today from 4 to 6 p.m. for a maintenance check, and a quick glance at the digital clock on your laptop shows that it’s a little past four.

You groan, closing your laptop and flopping back against the couch cushions dramatically. Mark cocks his head, slightly confused, before he pokes you in the arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I completely forgot about the scheduled electricity shutdown for the entire building. We won’t have any wifi for the next two hours.” You pout, your bottom lip jutting out in the slightest, and Mark doesn’t think it’s fair that you get to be this cute and have this much of an effect on his racing heart rate.

“That’s okay, we can… play some board games?” he suggests offhandedly, pushing away the embarrassing thought and nudging your leg with his, and you smile before a sudden idea occurs to you. 

“Or we can still do some Tiktok challenges! What was the challenge you clicked on?” You quickly sit upright, turning to face your best friend, eyes sparkling in excitement. “I memorized a few of the dance ones already! Was it Renegade? I can teach you that one. Jisung showed me how to do it.”

“Um,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. His eyes dart everywhere, except you, as he lets out a feigned cough. “It wasn’t a dance one. It was about, uh, going up to your boyfriend… and um, hugging him... when he’s playing video games.”

“Oh.” You answer lamely, not knowing what to say. You unsuccessfully try to push away the image of you attempting that challenge with your best friend. “Those are really cute.”

“Really?” He says doubtfully, wrinkling his eyebrows and fiddling with the frayed sleeve of his sweater. “Wouldn’t the dude get mad?”

You don’t know what suddenly possessed you to do this (you’ll have to ask Renjun and his paranormal loving ass later), but you thank whatever demon did for that split second because you find yourself gently grabbing Mark’s arm and slipping your head underneath it. You swing one leg over his lap and settle down until you’re securely sitting in his lap, bent legs on either side of his hips, hands curled around the soft fabric of his sweater on both sides and resting on top of your thighs. His arms instinctively go around your waist, wrapping around you securely.

You tilt your head to the side slightly, studying the flustered boy in front of you with a teasing, albeit a little anxious, smile on your lips. “Are you feeling mad?”

Splotches of red litter his cheeks and decorate the tips of his ears, but your best friend furiously shakes his head at your question, bashfully ducking his head afterwards and muttering a soft “No.”

You swallow hard, heart pounding erratically in your chest as you timidly ask, “Would you be mad if I do this?”

Mark looks up at that, confusion written all over his face. His arms start to loosen around your figure, hands now resting on your waist. “If you do what?”

You take a deep breath. “This.”

You lean in and gently press your lips against his. Mark freezes in shock, and you quickly retreat soon after, gnawing at the inside of your cheek as you wait anxiously for his reaction. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and be buried six feet under.

A tiny noise of surprise belatedly escapes from him and crimson spreads across his cheeks like wildfire. His doe eyes are wide and sparkling, staring at you in bewilderment. Your best friend lets out a small laugh of disbelief before a full blown smile breaks out across his face. He gazes at you adoringly, breathing out softly, “I’m not mad at that.”

You perk up at that, draping your arms around his neck as you lean forward, beaming. “Really? You’re not?”

“Definitely not.”

This time, Mark meets you halfway, his lips slotting against yours perfectly and making you feel tingles up and down your spine. Your eyes are closed, and you are so hyper aware of the way his hands grip your hips, how he tugs you closer, and how his lips chase after yours. The number of butterflies from earlier multiply in your stomach, and you have ascended past cloud nine by now.

When the two of you break apart, your eyes flutter open, and you nudge your nose against his affectionately. The brightest grin blooms on his face once again, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his little giggles and hiding the awfully vibrant cerise that rapidly blossoms on his face.

“Is this a good time to tell you congrats for completing your first challenge?” you say, resting your cheek against the crown of his head. You pull away when he lifts his head up, surprised.

“I wasn’t playing video games though,” he says slowly, processing your words and thinking back to the challenge that started this all.

“It was a different challenge. It’s the one that Hyuck did a few weeks ago,” you confess, and realization dawns on him, his face lighting up for a split second before a look of horror takes over.

“Oh, no. Is that why you had your phone recording on the bookshelf?” Mark asks, dread beginning to cloud his mind.

“Yes…” you say slowly, a little perplexed. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Oh my god, I ruined your video,” he moans, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “I saw your phone when I walked in and thought you were filming earlier and forgot to turn it off, so I turned it off for you.”

When the words finally register in your mind, you can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of your throat, and he raises his head up to look at you with wide doe eyes at the pretty sound. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

You can’t stop laughing at the situation, and he looks at you worriedly, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly. You force yourself to calm down, a soft chuckle leaving your lips before you beam at him, leaning in and placing the softest kiss on the tip of his nose. “It’s okay, Mark. I’m not mad. That video wasn’t important anyway.”

“But still,” he whines before letting out a groan and slapping his hand against his forehead when the realization sinks in even further. “I’m such an idiot.”

“But you’re my idiot now, right?” you say teasingly, albeit a little shyly as well, as you reach over to tug his hand away from his face and lace your fingers with his.

“I mean, I kinda thought I was always your idiot,” Mark laughs softly and a little embarrassedly, eyes averted and cheeks turning pinker than ever. The largest grin spreads across your face at that, and you turn away slightly to hide it. You didn’t think your best friend can possibly be any more endearing, but he manages to prove you wrong every time.

“Well, then now you can add ‘Y/N’s boyfriend’ to your resume,” you say, and he fails to suppress the pleased smile appearing on his face at your remark, his rosy cheeks rising even taller than skyscrapers.

“So, uh, what sort of job description does that have?” He gazes at your intertwined hands in wonder, still completely giddy at the reality of you being his best friend and something more.

“Sharing hoodies, giving me attention, kissing, holding my hand, going on dates, you know, the basics,” you answer, squeezing his hand tenderly, and his doe eyes instantly light up. Mark feels a little bolder than before, and it shows when he grins widely and says:

“Can we do number three again?”

“Yes, we can, Eggy Boi.”

He wrinkles his nose at the name, disgruntled and unimpressed, as he crosses his arms over his chest, sulking. You let out a laugh before leaning in and crashing your lips against his. He immediately relents at that, enthusiastically responding and hugging you closer to him, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss as you feel his own smile appear as well.

At that moment, you decide that you want to change Mark’s personal brand. Because his should be “absolutely wonderful, positively amazing, a cute kisser, your boyfriend, and your bestest friend.” And yes, that is most definitely more than the allotted three words, but again, who’s really counting?

Certainly not you when you’re too preoccupied with kissing your best friend. Correction: best friend and new boyfriend.

One new notification: donutkillmyvibe uploaded a new video!

moominjun commented:

so you’re saying the reason why we didn’t get the highly anticipated best friend challenge video is because @ marklyrawr turned the camera off?

donutkillmyvibe replied: yes 😔 I’m sorry to disappoint everyone 🤧

nanaislove replied: omg no bby it’s ok 🥺🥺💞💓💓💝💗 you didn’t have to make an apology video for that 🥺💗💓💘💖

goofys.chuckle replied: yeah it’s mark’s fault. he’s the disappointment here 🥴

morklyrawr replied: hahahahaha stfu hyuck

tytrack commented:

mark is going through puberty. I apologize

dobunny replied: @.@

goofys.chuckle commented:

are we getting whip(ped)lash pt 2 by eggy boi?

morklyrawr replied: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO STARTED THAT NAME?????

goofys.chuckle replied: uh gotta blast 🚀

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle does this mean you’re staying over again?

goofys.chuckle replied: @ showmethemonet yes if you want your super cute, mega talented, very handsome boyfriend to still be alive 🥺

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle oh my god I didn’t know I was dating bts jin???

moominjun replied: LMFAOOOOO

goofys.chuckle replied: heart 💔 been broke 📉 so many times ⏰ i don’t know 🤔 what to believe 💯 mama 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 said 🗣 it’s my fault 😢 it’s my fault 🤦🏻‍♂️i wear my heart ❤️ on my sleeve 💪 i think it’s best 👍🏻 I put my heart ❤️ on ice 🧊

jenojam commented:

why am I not surprised……

itsmebetch replied: just mark thingz 🍉

suhprisemf commented:

mark your head looks flat af

jungjaeprince replied: 😂😂😂

10vely replied: @ jungjaeprince be quiet don’t cry

letswonwon commented:

whoop whoop

junguwu commented:

OMG CONGRATS ON YOUR RELATIONSHIP SWEETIE 😍😍

takoyaki_prince commented:

MARK!!!!! you look handsome !! 😘

jisungpwark commented:

rip to @ donutkillmyvibe ’s future videos that mark will ruin. press f in the chat to pay respects 🙏🏻

bigheadking replied: F ✊🏻😔

peachyangel replied: f 🥺🥺

yoitslucas replied: F 🤪🤪🤪 but glad you’re happy, man ❤️

donutkillmyvibe replied: F 💔

morklyrawr replied: @ donutkillmyvibe wtf babe????

officialgordonramsay commented:

didn’t i tell you to get back on tinder ?

apado_god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

[chasingpj]

𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

pairing: leo valdez x gn reader

summary: five ways he says i love you through his actions

warnings: implied nudity and s*x, discusses food and eating and nothing else, i think. oh, and maybe some typos

category: headcanons

love letters/notes

leo is a busy boy

he's always picking up new projects so he can spend all day in his workshop or the forges with his siblings

when you guys live together, he leaves small notes on the refrigerator for you

they're always short, saying simple things like "i love you" and "i miss you already"

for the love letters, he'll leave them in random places for you to find

if you're a big reader, i can see him hiding it between the pages of your book

one day, you pick up your book to read, and the note falls on your lap

it's a love letter written on a piece of blueprint paper; there’s a little bit of oil smudged on the side of it

he got distracted while he was working on something because you were the only thing he could think about

his love letters never fail to make your heart flutter

sometimes they make you cry

he's quite sentimental

leo always tells you he does better writing down his feelings than he is saying it out loud because he can organize his thoughts better

you know that leo has a hard time with that because of how he grew up

when you guys have an argument, which isn't very often, he writes his feelings down on paper

he's always quick to apologize if he did something wrong, and the notes help him form the apology that you deserve, and you're quick to forgive him

once, you were super angry after an argument, so you locked yourself in your shared bedroom

you needed to calm yourself down

the both of you much too angry and stubborn to make a compromise

as your recollecting yourself, 40 minutes in, a folded piece of paper slips from under the door

the letter has teardrop stains, and the ink is slightly smudged

on the paper, it's all his thoughts written out in the best way he can explain them

after reading what he wrote, you quickly deemed that whatever you were fighting about was silly, and you guys made up

you love his spontaneous notes so much that you do them back

you guys have a game of who can find the most creative hiding spot for your notes

one time you found one tapped to the inside of the toilet cover

you found it hilarious

you throw folded post-its with messages in his tool belt

he finds them during the day while he's working on something

after you joined in on the fun, he scatters notes in random places, and every few days, you find a new message hidden somewhere randomly

they're just so sweet; there’s never a time where they don't make you smile

gifts

this is a given

it's not a leo headcanon if gift-giving isn't included

he would make you things like roses from scrap metal to literal furniture

if you have a lot of jewelry, he will make you a cute jewelry box

if you're a big book reader, he'll make you bookcases to support your book collection

he's always giving you little trinkets that he made with leftover materials from projects

he loves making things for you and gets upset when you decide to buy something from ikea instead of asking him

"babe, why would you buy that? I could have just made it for you!"

when he's on his way from returning on his quest, sometimes he'll find something that reminds him of you in a store, and he'll buy it

when he has the money for it, he'd buy you a star :(

says that he spent even more money to buy an extra bright star

because "you're the sun in my universe"

brb gonna cry

also, he'd gift you a bond bracelet

you know, those bracelets where every time you tap on it, it makes the other person's bracelet vibrate

the both of you get anxious when one of you goes on quests, so the bracelets bring the other person who's at home comfort

because when you tap back, at least he knows you're alive and vice versa

one of the best gifts you've ever received from him was your engagement ring

he made it himself

he took so much care and effort into making it

imagine leo forging your wedding ring himself??? i'm in spain with no s

he was so nervous that you wouldn't like the style, so he had piper casually bring it up to you

piper was so nonchalant about it that you didn't even think twice about the question

the ring has the prettiest gemstone or diamond (whatever you prefer)

you cried so hard when he told you he made it himself that you couldn't even say yes to his proposal clearly

he makes both of your wedding bands too

he carves a saying that's dear to the both of you on the inside

this is nothing to do with anything but imagine when you guys have kids, he makes animals out of pipe cleaners for them i'm gonna cry, brb pt 2

overall, whether he makes the present himself or not, he puts a lot of effort and care into it

every gift has a meaning and a place dear to your heart

cooking for you

leo is canoningly a good cook

he loves cooking for you

and you love eating what he makes

he's usually busy on the weekdays, so he cooks on the weekends

you guys always joke that he'd be the cutest househusband

you got him an apron for Christmas as a joke gift one year, and he wears it all the time

there's something so charming about him wearing an apron with a funny saying like "Mr. Good Lookin is Cookin" or with like a ripped out shirtless guy in front of it

you giggle every time you see him wearing it

oh, no matter how many times you've seen it, it's still so bizarre when he takes out hot trays from the oven with his BARE hands

everything he makes tastes amazing

he makes all kinds of food and is always trying something new

if you tell him what you’re craving, he’ll cook it for you

once he woke you up to ask if you wanted ribs… it was 3 am but like, of course, you wanted some

unless you're vegetarian or vegan, sorry, HAHA

often though, he does make Mexican food

it reminds him of when his mom was alive

he always has some story to share

every time he makes caldo de pollo (chicken soup), he always talks about how his mother would make it in the summer and that when he was little, he would always complain about eating hot soup in hot weather

you know he doesn't notice his constant telling of this story, but you don't mind

it's so bittersweet when he talks about his mom

through the cooking of his traditional food, you feel closer to him and his late mother

the memories he shares with you makes your eyes sting with tears

especially when leo says how much he wishes that esperanza could have met you

sorry, that was a little emo

also, leo usually wakes up earlier than you

he knows you're a sleepyhead, so he'll cook breakfast for you

so that when you're running around in the morning trying to get dressed and your things together

you never leave the house hungry because there's always a tupperware filled with breakfast, and if he has enough time, he'll fix you something to take for lunch too

if you come home late from work or school, he'll make dinner even if he's tired to surprise you

so many times you've come home from a shitty day at work or school, and the small table where you guys eat your meals is all set up with your favorite food

leo greets you by peeking his head into the hallway from the kitchen, tossed curls, cheerful brown eyes, and a bright grin

"I hope you're hungry," he says, despite knowing that you are hungry

and then you guys talk and laugh together over a delicious meal

compliments

leo's really observant

he notices when you’re in a bad mood, even if you try not to show it

he also notices when you change little things about your appearance

if you get a haircut or you get your nails done, he'll comment on it right away

especially outfits

if you buy something new, he'll complement it

imagine standing in front of the mirror, looking at yourself in your new outfit

leo comes behind you, his hands coming around your waist

he'll pepper kisses on your neck, a soft hum leaving his lips as he meets your eyes in the mirror

"is this new, mi amor?" he asks, hands running up your sides

once you affirm that it is a new dress or shirt, he'll smile and tell you how beautiful you look in it

maybe says he'd rather see it off of you wink wink

there's never a day where he doesn't compliment you

he thinks you're the prettiest person in the world

you've caught him staring at you lovingly plenty of times

he's just asking himself how did he manage to get someone as beautiful and amazing as you

you always squirm under his gaze and playfully ask what is he looking at

"you're so pretty, mi amor. I can't help it."

AHHH!!!!

alongside the endearment of mi amor, he'd always call you bonita and hermosa

you're so sweet to him, and he can't help but tell you how much you mean to him every chance he gets

surprises

leo is an acts of service kind of guy

i think he'll spontaneously do things to make you happy

if you've been busy studying for finals or just beat up from a day at work

he'll draw you a bath

or he'll cut up some fruit for you and leave it at your desk

he randomly buys you flowers

he never needs an occasion to buy your flowers

it'll be a regular tuesday, leo just happened to walk past a store with flowers displayed in the front, and he thought about how bright your smile would be if he showed up with a bouquet

I feel like he's pretty introverted, enjoys being at home with you

the both of you are pretty broke for a while, so a lot of dates were at home

leo made the most of it

you guys will have nice dinners at home

he'll set the table nicely, set the mood with candles

he'll redecorate the space so well you feel like you're at an actual restaurant

and of course, his food is amazing

breakfast in bed is another thing he'd do for you unsolicited

especially if you guys had a looong night wink wink

you're woken up by his still groggy voice, fluttering kisses on your cheeks

you open your eyes to see he's set a tray with your favorite breakfast on top of the bed

the two of you will eat breakfast together, which usually leads to you staying in bed for the rest of the day

just enjoying the warm cocoon your sheets create around the both of you

overall, he's super observant and caring, and he goes the extra mile to make sure you're happy because he knows you do the same

anyways, does anyone know where I can get a leo?

masterlists taglist: @nct127bee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr @cartocns @Slytherclaw-kitten @idk-bye-no @percysbluehairbrush @Hermioneswifeee @quteez @drayshadow @ashookykooky

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 6

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder stands at the coffee pot in the bureau break room, pouring a mug full of the shitty burnt bean water and thinking back to the look on Scully’s face as he told her about the Icy Cape X file.

Valerie had always shown interest in his work, but she had her limits. She listened politely, but if he mentioned details like black nodules she made a face and told him he was going to ruin her dinner. It’s understandable that people would be turned off by the nitty gritty of his work; heck, even the Gunmen ask him to tone it down sometimes. But Scully displayed only fascination and curiosity. He suspects he could tell her about the Tooms case and she’d be more interested in discussing the plausibility of a one-hundred-twenty year old man than she’d be disgusted that he stuck his hand in bile.

“Who is she?”

He turns to see Agent Kissop, one of the more senior analysts on the team, smiling at him over her bifocals.

“I’m sorry?” he asks.

“You’ve been staring at that coffee pot with a shit-eating grin on your face for the last ten minutes. Only reason a man does that is if he has a lady on his mind. So who is she?” Kissop asks pointedly.

Mulder blushes and her smile broadens.

“I’m glad to see you putting yourself out there again, Agent Mulder,” she says with a maternal pat to his arm. “Sweet guy like you deserves to be with someone who makes him happy.”

He smiles politely and escapes to his desk, disappointment gripping his chest. He’s got someone on his mind, alright, but he’ll never be with her. Trying to put Scully out of his thoughts, he logs in to check his email. Among requests for updates on various cases, a message from HR about his 401k, and a reminder not to store entire gallons of milk in the shared refrigerator, he sees an email that makes his heart leap into his throat.

He swallows hard and opens it, hoping against hope that it is what he thinks it is.

From: dscully@fbi.gov

Sent: July 1, 1996 11:36am

To: fmulder@fbi.gov

Subject: X Files

Hi Mulder,

I hope you enjoyed the rest of your sunday.

If the offer still stands, I’d love to take a look at those X Files of yours. Perhaps one weekend? It’s hard for me to squeeze anything in on weeknights with my commute to Quantico. It just occurred to me that I don’t know where you live, either.

Anyway, let me know. Take care.

Scully

If Kissop thought he was smiling like an idiot before, she should see him now. He feels like doing a fist-pump, or a touchdown dance. Oh god, she’s going to come by his apartment, he needs to clean. What if Priscilla takes one of her colossal stinky shits while Scully’s there? Jesus Christ, he’s getting ahead of himself.

He hits reply and spends forty-five minutes writing and rewriting his response.

————

She’d written the email the moment she got to the office at 7:00 am, then left it in drafts for hours, re-reading it and changing a word here and there, adding and removing different parts. Should she sign it “sincerely, Scully,” or maybe “regards, Scully”? Or should she sign it Dana? He doesn’t call her Dana.

Maybe she shouldn’t send it at all. Isn’t it inappropriate to meet with a male coworker alone in his apartment, given that she’s engaged? But this is about work. It holds scientific significance. She wants to see the files, not Mulder. Right?

Finally she couldn't take it anymore and hit send, immediately going to her outbox to see if she could still call it back, but it was too late. Now all she can do is wait. Wait, wait, wait. She checks her email compulsively between classes and autopsies. What if he never responds? Finally, just after 1:00 pm, it arrives.

From: fmulder@fbi.gov

Sent: July 1, 1996 1:19pm

To: dscully@fbi.gov

subject: RE: X Files

Scully,

I’d admonish you for discussing this via a monitored channel, but then you’d remind me that I very specifically told you to email me.

I’m free this Saturday, if you’d like to come by. Anytime is fine, but let’s say 6 so we can justify having a drink. I hope you’re partial to shitty beer.

I live in Alexandria, at 2630 Hegal Place, apartment 42. Don’t let the dilapidated exterior fool you; it’s a very respectable slum.

Talk to you soon,

Mulder

She bites at her lips, trying to fight off the flush of delight she feels as she reads his reply over and over. Should she just admit that she has a giant crush on him? Probably. It’s not illegal to have a crush as long as she has no intention of doing anything about it. Maybe his apartment will be filthy, or plastered with Star Trek paraphernalia, and it will effectively quash her affection for him. She can only hope. She hits reply, and this time doesn’t hesitate to send it right away.

———

Her reply is waiting for him when he returns from his lunch break, and he smiles before he even opens it.

From: dscully@fbi.gov

Sent: July 1, 1996 1:31pm

To: fmulder@fbi.gov

Subject: RE:RE: X Files

Mulder,

Forgive me for neglecting to speak in code. Perhaps we should establish one for future need?

Saturday at six sounds great. Who told you about my affinity for low-quality malt beverages?

I’m not overly concerned about your questionable neighborhood. I may not be a field agent, but I’m still typically armed. Consider that a warning.

See you on Saturday,

Scully

He leans back in his chair, his love struck-face shining up at the ceiling like a full moon. Why he is torturing himself by spending more time with her he doesn’t know, but he can’t seem to resist.

————-

“What about October thirteenth?” Ethan says, and she turns to look at him, confusion pulling at her face.

“What about it?” she asks.

Her mind was wandering again as they chatted over chicken and rice. Wandering back to Mulder, to their email correspondence and their plans for Saturday. Plans she hasn’t shared with Ethan.

“Dana, are you okay? I feel like you’re not listening to me,” Ethan replies with a wounded tone, his expression equally concerned and hurt.

She sets her fork down and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Ethan, I’m just distracted by some work stuff. What’s happening on October thirteenth?”

She focuses on giving him her full attention.

“For the wedding, Dana. The church is available October thirteenth. It’s a Sunday.”

Suddenly she’s not hungry anymore.

“Oh. Um, okay. Why do we need to get married this year, again? Isn’t that a pretty short engagement?”

He makes a quizzical face. “I guess...when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible?” he offers with a soft smile.

When Harry Met Sally is one of her favorite movies and he knows it. She can’t help but feel a swell of affection for him, with a hefty side of guilt.

“October thirteenth sounds perfect,” she says with a forced smile and a squeeze of his hand.

Ethan beams. “Great. I’ll go by and put a deposit down to hold it for us. We have a date, babe, that’s big progress!”

She holds the smile steady, excusing herself to the bathroom as soon as he stands to clear the table.

That night he goes down on her for an eternity, and she is sure that she is the absolute worst fiancée that has ever, or will ever live. She does not deserve this man’s love, but she wants to. She’ll try harder.

[whumpmatsus]

Hmm could do one where one one of boys has rough day, that leads to emotional overeating, and bellyache that they try to hide until they can't. Please and thank.

aaaaaa, lovely!

I went with Totty because it feels like I haven't written him in a while

and there's a tiny bit of Allmatsu, buuuut really it's mostly Cybermatsu :D

hope you like it, I had a lot of fun with it!

-

Most of the time, Totty thinks he does a pretty good job being composed at work.

However, that’s easy to do when the majority of the days are okay. Sometimes there’s a bad moment or two that he can recover from by the time he gets home; never before has it been an entire day full of nothing but bad moments.

Until today, of course.

It’s just been one awful thing after another. One of his brothers accidentally turned off the alarm clock, probably by hitting it or steadying themself against it while going to the bathroom… so he was late to work. When he finally got behind the register, there was already a decent-sized line and the early morning customers were irritable before their coffee. Nearly every single customer during his shift snapped at him in some way even when he was trying to be helpful.

His coworkers were less than pleasant, especially after a couple hours when one of them had to take over for him because he had to go pee. To make things worse, toward the end of the day he managed to smash his fingers in the cash drawer while closing it.

The highlight of the day was when he was on his way out and a customer wanted help. Company policy being that he wasn’t allowed to work in any way while he was off the clock, he told them he was actually heading home and pointed to one of his coworkers. Which apparently wasn’t good enough, as he was accused of being lazy and not wanting to do his job and told that the customer was going to talk to his manager and have him fired.

Is it any wonder he’s spent almost the whole train ride home in tears? It hasn’t been a great day to be Matsuno Todomatsu.

He feels a little better by the time he gets home, but he’s exhausted and overwhelmed by everything that went wrong. Part of him wants to find one of his brothers and bitch his heart out. The other part just wants to shove food into his mouth and pretend none of it ever happened.

Sutabaa allows employees to eat some of the cheap things for free during their break, which Totty doesn’t often take advantage of. He’d rather have a snack at home so he doesn’t have to scarf it down in ten minutes. Today, though, he managed to put away a chocolate croissant plus a couple of cookies, so he shouldn’t be hungry at all when he gets home.

And he’s not… really hungry. He just wants to eat something for the sake of it, so that maybe eating something tasty will make it seem like nothing went wrong today. The food during his break made things seem better for a minute while he ate it. All he wants is more of that feeling, to make believe it wasn’t such a bad day.

He doesn’t know where any of his brothers are, and he doesn’t particularly care. He doesn’t think he’d give half a shit if one of them walked in on him raiding the fridge and pantry as if he’s preparing to hibernate through the winter. They all stuff their faces at any available opportunity, so why would it be surprising to find him doing it, especially after a long day at work which none of the rest of them do?

It doesn’t even really matter to him what he’s eating, either. Just things that don’t require too much time between being in his hand and sliding down his throat.

There’s about a portion’s worth of takoyaki left in the fridge from dinner last night, so he finishes that off. Some daifukumochi that was in the cabinet, along with a packet of konpeitō. A bag of arare disappears pretty quickly, too. He doesn’t really know if the imagawayaki that was sitting on the counter was left for him or if it was a single treat that nobody had fought over yet ― regardless, he eats it anyway.

Each bite is a violent attempt to deny the shittiness of this whole day. It all tastes delicious, so he can lose himself inside it for a moment. What never really occurs to him is that every moment doesn’t last too long, and even though his stomach isn’t built for this kind of eating, he’s reaching for another snack as soon as the last one has dissolved on his tongue.

He throws packaging away as he goes, just to keep things neat. He’s just biting into his latest snack when someone else walks into the kitchen, and looking up, it turns out to be Choromatsu.

“O-oh, hey, Totty, you’re home. How was work?” He starts ducking into the refrigerator, then suddenly straightens up and gives his youngest brother a curious look. “… Uh. That’s my Big Katsu. Why are you eating it??”

Given that his teeth are currently sunk into it, Totty feels a little guilty. So at least he doesn’t have to fake the expression on his face. “Oh… sorry, Choro-nii-san! I’m just really hungry… I’ll buy you another one tomorrow.”

After a moment, Choromatsu sighs, evidently deciding to let Totty off the hook rather than fight with him about it. “Yeah, that’s fine. I was saving it, but if I haven’t craved it this long, I can wait. There’s other stuff I can have for a snack.” He opens the refrigerator door and pulls out a single mini carton of milk, then frowns. “Hey, wasn’t there some leftover takoyaki in here?”

He huffs as he closes the fridge. “Dammit. Osomatsu probably ate the rest of it while I wasn’t paying attention, the douche.”

He shakes his head and gets in the pantry for a bag of potato chips instead. “Guess these’ll do till dinner. Hey, Totty, you’re probably still hungry, right? Why don’t you share with me? I’m not starving or anything… half a bag would do it for me, I think.”

Totty’s stomach twinges suddenly, alerting him that he may have eaten too much. He’s not used to shoveling down this much at one time, though the realization that he’s uncomfortably full doesn’t stop him from hurriedly cramming the rest of the Big Katsu into his mouth.

And, honestly, it’s not like he can say no to the offer. He just told his big brother he was hungry and he’s been gulping down food at an insatiable pace. Thinking about the taste of potato chips sort of makes him want some.

Plus… Choromatsu is being nice by sharing, despite the fact that Totty already took one of his snacks without even asking. It would be mean to turn that down when he’s just trying to make sure Totty gets fed properly.

So he plasters a smile on and tosses the wrapper before stepping toward his older brother. Everything’s fine. “Ah, yeah… sounds good.”

-

Everything is not fine.

Dinner is beginning to be a struggle to get through. Totty hates wasting the food, but his thought is to put it away for later when his stomach isn’t actively trying to kill him. The pain is different to anything he’s ever experienced, a feeling like he’s full all the way up to his chest and so can’t get a decent breath in. He feels cold and clammy even though he knows he’s sweating. In short, it sucks.

The one thing he counted on was his brothers not noticing that he wasn’t eating anything. After sharing the chips with Choromatsu, he started to feel like he was going to burst. Even though the sensation quieted down a little bit, it never quite went away.

Now that he’s been faced with a table full of food, it’s even worse. His stomach is gurgling and swirling and nothing helps. Not taking deep breaths through his nose, not taking tiny sips of his tea, not focusing on any other thoughts. Nothing. It’s all useless. He thinks that as soon as dinner is over, he’s gonna have to go throw up. No ifs, ands, or buts; one way or another, he’s gonna be sick.

His only hope now is that he can ride it out long enough for everyone to head their separate ways so he doesn’t have to face the humiliation of admitting that he ate too much and hurt his stomach.

“U-uh, Totty,” Choromatsu speaks up suddenly, “aren’t you gonna eat anything? You were hungry enough to eat my Big Katsu earlier, I’d have thought you were really looking forward to dinner.”

Ugh. Did he have to???

Totty forces a smile onto his face. “Oh, yeah, I… I guess I’m just not in the mood for this stuff tonight, you know?”

The look on Osomatsu’s face could be mistaken for someone who’d just swallowed a lemon. “What?! But Totty, this is your favorite! You’re not gonna eat any of it? You can’t just skip meals like that, dude.”

“Yeah,” Ichimatsu hums thoughtfully. “You’re not gonna be any more healthy or attractive if you’re starving, you know.”

Geez. His brothers are so fucking embarrassing. Choromatsu is giving him some backhanded concern, Osomatsu is overzealous as usual, and Ichimatsu sounds like a Goddamn after-school special.

Karamatsu, meanwhile, is scrutinizing him just the same. “Yes, Totty, my brother… you look rather pale. You really should eat something!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Jyushimatsu practically launches himself over the table, holding a bite of food from his own plate between chopsticks toward his little brother’s mouth. “Here! Winding up for the pitch… batter uuuuuup!”

“Ughhhhh!” Totty leans back, even though any movement unsettles his stomach further. “You guys are ridiculous! I’m fine! W-what, am I not allowed to have just lost my appetite without every single one of my big brothers making a federal case of it?!”

All the others share a silent look, then there comes a unanimous, “Nope.”

He groans and leans his arm against the table. Shit, it’s getting worse. All he wants to do is run to the bathroom and puke, so that maybe he’ll actually feel better. If he does that, though, everyone will be on his case about how much he ate instead of how little he’s eating right now. He doesn’t need nor want a lecture.

Actually, what he wants more than anything is to just be taken care of and told that it’s okay, he screwed up a bit, it’s not the end of the world. That would require confessing to this stupid mistake, though… and he really doesn’t want to do that. He’s so sure that if he does, he’s just going to get scolded instead of comforted.

When he looks around the table again, he notices that Choromatsu in particular looks worried. “C’mon, Totty. You know we care about you. Osomatsu and Ichimatsu are right; it’s not healthy to skip meals.”

“Dammit, I know that, Fappymatsu! Just because I’m pretty doesn’t mean I’m stupid.” Totty scowls down at the food before lifting his eyes back up. “If I take one bite, will you all get off my back?”

He hates that those words just came out of his mouth. Even if it’s just a single bite, he doesn’t think his stomach will be happy with him. The idea of eating anything isn’t sitting well with him.

What else can he do, though? Just like with literally everything else, his brothers won’t stop bugging him until he caves in and does whatever they want.

The others exchange a look and Osomatsu shrugs. “Yeah, that should do it! Maybe after you take a bite you’ll realize how good it is and how hungry you are.”

Shit. Well, now he doesn’t really have a way out.

He takes as deep a breath as he feels he can, and collects a bite of food with his chopsticks. Although he isn’t sure how noticeable it is, it feels like his hand is shaking as he raises it to his lips.

Maybe it’s better to do it fast and get it over with. So, that’s what he does. The food in his chopsticks disappears in rapid time, and even though it feels like swallowing a spoonful of glue, he manages to get it down.

“Th-there,” he announces as he slams his chopsticks down. A hiccup squeaks out of him, followed by a fist pressed to his mouth, then he glares around the table at his brothers. “Ha… happy now? God, you guys are… you’re such… such…”

His stomach roils aggressively, almost like he’s just been punched in the gut. He cuts himself off with a loud, painful belch… and whines softly, because he knows what’s coming next. There’s no possible way he can stop it, nor can he get up fast enough to make it to the bathroom.

He tries to clap his other hand over his mouth in some childish belief that if he just blocks the exit, so to speak, he won’t be sick. Predictably, it doesn’t work.

Only a second and a couple of retches later, Totty has vomited through his hands into his lap. It’s perhaps more than a little ironic that his attempt to avoid lectures and feeling shameful has led to something incredibly humiliating.

The tears well up almost immediately, and it doesn’t take long for him to be sitting here coughing, not quite knowing what to do except cry.

“A-ah, Totty!!” Someone’s up from their seat, grabbing him gently by the shoulders. It sounds like Choromatsu, he thinks. “Hey… hey, it’s okay. O-oh, no, no, guys, it’s okay ― yeah, Mom, Dad, it’s fine, I-I’ve got him. Totty, hey, c’mon. I’m gonna help you to the bathroom and we’ll get you cleaned up. Okay?”

All he can do is nod, and it seems like even the fact that he leans against Choromatsu, all streaked with puke, doesn’t bother his brother.

It’s a short walk to the bathroom. He thinks he hears one of the others getting up to clean whatever mess he’s left behind. He just concerns himself with getting into the bathroom, then with lifting his arms when told so Choromatsu can help peel the soiled clothes off.

“It’s okay, Totty. E-everything’s alright.” His voice is low and gentle as he manages to also get Totty’s pants off, hanging everything over the side of the bathtub. If he’s lucky, one of the others will come rinse them off so they can go right in the wash while he tries to take care of getting Totty situated on the couch or something. “I’m gonna take care of you. You just cry as much as you need to, as long as you cooperate with me, okay?”

Totty sniffles, doing his best to stop crying. This is so embarrassing. “O-okay…”

Eventually the crying tapers off a bit, to the point that he can breathe normally again. His mouth has a bad taste and his throat hurts; at least his stomach feels a lot better, though. He’s just so mortified that he threw up on himself in front of his entire family after trying to save himself from this fate.

What did you think was gonna happen when you ate something else after already being stuffed and nauseous, dummy?? His mind is exactly no help at all, unfortunately.

Choromatsu is careful as he tries to get his little brother cleaned. As soon as all his dirty clothes are off, he wipes a wet cloth over Totty’s mouth to wash off any remnants of vomit and helps Totty wash his hands in the sink. He holds a couple pieces of toilet paper over Totty’s nose so he can blow, which makes him feel slightly less gross.

Once there’s no more danger of new clothes having leftover puke dripped on them, he darts out to the closet in the other room and comes back with a pair of Totty’s pajamas. It feels somuch better to be in fresh clothes after Choromatsu gingerly tugs them on.

With all of that done, Choromatsu sets a hand against Totty’s forehead and gives a contemplative hum. “Well, you don’t feel warm… you might still be coming down with something, though. I think maybe you should just go right to bed. We’ll get you settled on the couch in the other room so that hopefully the rest of us don’t catch it, and I’ll get you some ginger ale or something, okay?”

The idea of all that sounds nice, sure. He feels a little guilty for not being honest, however, so… “Um, Choromatsu-nii-san… I-I’m not… I’m not sick. I… I think I ate too much today, and… that bite I took out there was just kind of… th-the last straw, you know?”

Choromatsu frowns. “You ate too much? You said you were really hungry when you got home. And all I remember seeing you eat was my Big Katsu and some of the chips.”

“I ate a lot more than that,” he confesses, rubbing at his teary eyes. “There was some stuff I had while I was at work, a-and… and I was the one who ate the last of the takoyaki. I was just going through the fridge and the cupboards for a while before you walked in.”

“Oh… okay, I get that. Why didn’t you just tell us you overate today instead of forcing yourself to eat?”

More tears bubble up and start rolling down his cheeks. “B-because… because I thought if I did, you’d all just lecture me and tell me, ‘Oh, you shouldn’t do that, Totty!’ The day was so bad already…”

The more he talks, the more tears fall. “It was just one thing a-after another! Work was shitty, everything that could go wrong did,and I didn’t want you guys harping on me! I-I know I fucked up eating a lot, but doing it just… made me feel better for a minute… like the day wasn’t so crappy, like I could pretend everything was okay because I was eating something good. So I just… d-didn’t wanna tell you guys… I-I know you’d say it’s bad for me…”

Quietly, Choromatsu pulls Totty up off the toilet and into a hug. His hand rubs calmingly between his little brother’s shoulder blades, shortly after switching to a series of pats. “Hey, you learned your lesson. I know you think we’d give you some big speech… and maybe you’re not wrong. But I’m sorry it felt like you had to hide it and suffer on your own. That’s not what we want! We just wanna take care of you. If we lecture like that, it’s just because we love you.”

“I-I know,” Totty mumbles into Choromatsu’s shoulder. “Are you… are you mad at me? For doing it in the first place and for not telling you?”

“Mad? No! No, no, no way. I’m not mad!” Choromatsu presses a brief kiss to the top of Totty’s head. “You’re my baby brother. How could I be mad at you for this? Just… you know… next time, come talk to us instead of going to the food. I’d rather listen to you complain for hours than have you eat yourself sick.”

He gives a cautious squeeze, somewhat reassured when Totty squeezes back. They stay like this for a few minutes, with Totty burying his face against Choromatsu’s shoulder and Choromatsu rubbing Totty’s back.

Finally Choromatsu lets out a sigh. “Just so you know… even if we lecture you a little, we’ll still try to take care of you if there’s anything we can do. But we’ll… also do our best not to lecture as much when you come to us. Do you feel any better?”

“Yeah… it doesn’t hurt that much anymore.” He mirrors the sigh and just sinks into his big brother’s embrace. “Can I still go lie down, though? In the futon?”

Choromatsu nods and pulls Totty up when he gets to his feet. “Yeah, of course. That’s probably a good idea even though you’re not really sick.”

“And… can I still have some ginger ale?”

“Yeah, I’ll get that for you after we get you settled.”

Totty is silent for a few seconds while they walk down the hall, then he speaks up again. “… Will you maybe stay and cuddle with me for a minute, too? Even though I’m not sick?”

Choromatsu glances down before chuckling. Does he really think he has to tack on that condition, as if Choromatsu won’t cuddle just because Totty isn’t actually sick? “I… o-of course, Totty. All you have to do is ask, even if you’re not sick.”

“Okay…” By this time they’ve reached the bedroom, so he stands aside while Choromatsu unrolls the futon. Before too long he’s lying down, and Choromatsu has both arms around him, gently stroking his hair.

He closes his eyes and nuzzles against his brother. “Thank you… you’re the best nii-chan ever.”

He can feel Choromatsu grinning. “Am I even better than leftover takoyaki?”

Totty pouts at the jab, but snuggles closer regardless. “Way better.”

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Revelation Part 3

Harry Potter AU- Marauders Post Hogwarts 

Link to Part 2 

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: E- smut and sensitive themes

_________

One question, is that my shirt?

You looked up from the refrigerator keeping your face as innocent as possible. Regulus stood in the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed in the dom-like manner that made your heart pound.

My plan is about to work so well.

You thought gleefully before looking down at your body.

“So it is.”

You replied with an innocent smile. Regulus crossed the room and lifted you onto the kitchen counter.

“You’re playing with fire, little girl.”

The tone was teasing...teasing and oozing with passion. Reaching out, you yanked him to you by his shirt.

“Maybe I want to...daddy .”

The word left your mouth before you even thought about it. By the way that Regulus smirked, you could tell that he was assumed. Your hand went to the buttons of the shirt When you put it on you had only buttoned it halfway now you were more than happy to take it off.

“Leave it.”

Regulus ordered as he forcibly spread your legs and shoved a hand between themes. You gasped as his middle and index finger stroked over your clit and down to your entrance.

“No panties? Love, you are definitely playing with fire. If we do this, you know there is no stopping right?”

“I don’t think that I would be sitting her butt booty naked on the kitchen counter if I didn’t need a good fucking. Now take my heart like a man.”

That was all Regulus needed to hear. The last thing that he needed was you getting mad at him after the two of you had mind-blowing sex but since you gave him the green light...he was about to rock your world.

Regulus’ mouth was on yours kissing you hungrily. A year of pent-up passion between the two of you was finally flowing free. If either of you needed any sign that there were still “feelings” between the two of you here it was.

Your hands were fumbling with the buttons of the black button-down that Regulus was wearing. He groaned when you missed one button for the third time.

“Hold on.”

He said softly before yanking the shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor before going for the buckle of his pants. Tossing his hair over his shoulder, Regulus tilted your face back to his.

“Eyes up here, sugar. I have missed those pretty lips...fuck I have missed everything about you.”

“I’ve missed you too. Just fuck me already.”

You replied against Regulus’ mouth as he moved to kiss you again. Regulus pulled you off of the counter and gently shoved your top half down onto the surface.

“Soon.”

He commented before grazing your neck with his teeth. making your squirm against his body. It would be so easy to mark you up. Regulus could leave enough love bites so every man in the house would know that you were off-limits. Not that he really had the need to worry about any other man in the house trying to get you. Sirius was too busy charming Remus (that didn’t mean that Regulus had totally stopped worrying about his brother possibly developing feelings for you in the future). His cock was hard against your ass.

“Baby, you feel so good.”

Regulus moaned, rubbing his cock down the line of your ass. He pushed you forward, to push two fingers into your aching core. You cried out and was thankful no one else was home. Regulus’ fingers pushed deeper. Regulus finally placed his fingers with his cock...what you really wanted. Your pussy stretched to accommodate his size. Had you really forgotten about how good he felt when buried deep inside of you?

The two of you were so busy fucking that neither of you noticed Sirius step into the kitchen and freeze. He watched for a few moments, blinking, before turning and going to join Remus making a mental note on where to sanitize the next morning. Sirius at least had some gossip to share (Remus, you will never believe who I saw fucking in the kitchen. Okay, yeah, it was Reg and Y/n...I think she was wearing his shirt too.)

You, meanwhile, were so focused on the feeling of the head of Regulus’ cock cramming against your cervix that you couldn’t focus on much else. Regulus snaked a hand around your waist to toy with your clit.

“Come, princess.”

Regulus groaned against your back. The moment that he pressed down on your clit, you came without having to be told twice. You knew better than to make Regulus tell you twice. If he had to tell you twice, your ass would be red and raw. You weren’t for sure if he would do that tonight since this was the first fuck in so long. You decided not to press your luck as Regulus came inside of you. He collapsed on your back, holding onto you as tight as the pulsating died out.

“God damn, love, you know how to make me feel like a man.”

You pressed a kiss to Regulus’ wrist as he reached down his free hand to tug his pants back up.

“I’m sorry for everything that I did. This may be a shitty time to say it but I am.”

You slowly turned in his arms for a kiss.

“Let's just have fun. We can talk tomorrow.”

The next morning brought more drama than it did making up. You woke up with Regulus’ arm around you. The bed was nice and warm, almost encouraging you to snuggle back against Regulus and go to sleep, however, a voice caught your attention. It sounded like your old work partner from back in the states...Michael.

Wiggling out of Regulus’ arms you quickly pulled on your abandoned clothes.

“Where are you going?”

Regulus groaned, opening one eye to look at the clock 8:45. He never slept this late but today could be the one exception.

“I heard something downstairs.”

You quickly walked downstairs to where the voices were coming from. Sure enough, there sat Michael beside Moody. Sirius turned with a smile,

“Someone missed you.”

Michael jumped up and pulled you into a bone-breaking hug.

“What are you doing here?”

You asked with a smile. To say that you were surprised, would be an understatement. You assumed that when you told Michael goodbye, it was actually goodbye.

Michael was another interesting topic for you. He reminded you so much of Regulus (sarcasm) and Sirius (everything else) mixed together paired with an LA street smart cop. Had you not been so hurt over Regulus’ breaking up with you, you may have given Micahel a chance. The breakup had taken a lot out of you, including your ability to consider dating someone else. That didn’t mean that Michael didn’t try. He tried hard! The poor guy tried to charm you nonstop with no giving up insight.

“I woke up a couple of days ago and thought that it was time for a change of scenery. I heard London was nice, so here I am.”

“A move across the ocean is more than a change of scenery.”

You replied. Michael grinned.

“Well, a girl could have influenced my decision.”

Sirius was watching the whole thing with a raised eyebrow. You hadn’t mentioned some other guy that could be crushing over you….especially last night when his little brother was fucking you senseless a few feet away from where you stood now.

Before Sirius could say another word, Regulus stepped into the kitchen and his eyes immediately landed on Michael. He clearly saw the way that the dude had his hands wrapped around your waist.

“Y/n, what the hell?”

You winced before turning to face Regulus. One look at him, told you that he was pissed (even though he has no reason to be). It didn’t matter how good Michael was to you or how bad Regulus was to you, you would always choose Regulus.

“Reggie, everything is fine.”

You said before going to join him. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you had the bright idea that this could be your perfect chance to show Regulus that you could easily be stolen from him if he didn’t treat you right. He would have to be willing to fight for you if the relationship were to work and sustain itself. Maybe it was cold and childish but it could work.

“Who’s the tool?”

Regulus asked slowly. Micahel frowned.

“My name is Michael. I’m her work partner from America. I’ve been transferred here on assignment.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow before letting himself regain his cool composure

“Well, isn’t that special. You’re an American? Just an FYI, the steering wheel in the car is on the other side and you lot drive on the wrong side of the road.”

Sirius quietly snorted and had to put his head down. That had to be one of the more savage takedowns that he had seen Regulus offer in some time...and it was brilliant.

You, meanwhile, were looking at Regulus out of the corner of your eyes while Michael faked a smile.

“Yeah, kind of figured that out. Thanks for the info. You are? I didn’t catch your name.”

“Regulus.”

Regulus kept his response basic. The least this idiot knew about him the better off things would probably be.

Michael meanwhile nodded suspiciously. He knew Regulus’ name well. This was the boyfriend. It all made sense now. Michael couldn't help but be curious if the two of you had already worked all of your issues or if this was just a “fuck and play” thing? If it was the latter of the two then Michael still had a chance with you...and Regulus could go fuck himself.

“Oh, you’re the boyfriend.”

Regulus nodded.

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m her boyfriend.”

You gently patted Regulus’ shoulder before focusing your attention back on Michael.

“Okay, that’s enough you two. Regulus, I’m going to take a shower. Sirius, make sure no one dies while I’m gone.

Sirius nodded. You knew that it was stupid to leave the room but the more Regulus and Michael got to know each other the better things would work in your favor. Should you feel bad for essentially using Michael like a piece of meat to make Regulus jealous? You knew the answer was definitely yes now.

You had been out of the room for a few moments when Remus decided to be the first one to speak.

“Let's all sit down.”

He had a feeling that things were about to get interesting. Remus caught Sirius’ gaze before motioning toward Regulus as if telling him to “mind his brother.”

Michael sat down at the table keeping his “sunny” disposition. His attention was on Regulus who was muttering in French to the male on his right. Michael had a feeling that they were talking about him too based on how the other brother, introduced as Sirius, was laughing.

“I think London is a lovely city. It's nice compared to Los Angeles but I don’t see as much to do.”

Regulus smirked up.

“Maybe you should have stayed in LA. I hear there are great street gangs to join.”

Michael’s pleasant smile faded.

“I’m an auror. That would be a little illegal. Is that a dark mark on your arm there Regulus? You were a dark wizard?”

Regulus glanced down at his left arm where his dark mark was clearly visible before looking up.

“Ah, so that’s what that is. There is no getting past you. To answer your question, yes I was a dark wizard...speaking of which would you like to see some real dark magic? I can show you…”

Michael’s cheeky smile faded as Regulus stared at him not blinking. Slipping his hand into his jacket, he decided to wrap a hand around his wand. Michael was still trying to figure out if he was actually in any danger or if Regulus was just screwing with him.

“Okay, Reg, that’s enough. You’ve made him shit his pants. Go take a shower with Y/n. I’m sure with her being all wet and slippery that she would love to see you.”

Sirius commented, breaking Regulus’ stare on Michael.

“Great idea, Sirius.”

________

@amelie-black @regulusslut @fandomsxxregulus @truly-insatiable @fific7 @realgaytrash @quuenofblacks @jessyballet @knreidy1 @hazncalsgal @teletubiswszpilkach @acciosiriusblack @mimisparkle12 @rubyroscoe1 @criminalyetminimal @whymyparentscheckmyphone @exhsle @bennyberry @spiderxalmighty @brokencasbutt67-writer @fandom-trash-worth-it @authoressskr @summer-novak @hankypranky @emiwrites3reads @shaylybaby2032 @marichromatic @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @knight-of-gleefulness @stuckinsaudi1 @untoldshortsofthefandoms @sprnaturallover @deanwherescas @shitfaceddaniel @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner

[fanficsfromyesteryear]

PARASITE

A STRANGER THINGS ONE SHOT

— PAIRING: Billy Hargrove x Reader — WORD COUNT: 879 — WARNINGS: Cursing, mentions of abuse — REQUESTED BY: N/A — A/N: This is just something to help me get back into writing. It’s been a hot minute lol. I know it’s short and a little different from the other stuff I’ve done, but it’s the way that I usually write outside of tumblr, so I thought I’d try it out here and see how it does. Please don’t come for me over the lack of dialogue. I thought this was a cute idea and really liked how it turned out. Anyway, hope you guys like it, too!!

Billy listened to the sound of his father’s heavy footfalls as they retreated down the hallway. The rattling of glass bottles signaled that the refrigerator door had been yanked open, followed by the clanking of beer cans. Billy buried his face into the pillow on his bed to hide the tears streaming down his cheeks in case his dad decided to make a second appearance in his room that night.

As much as Billy hated to admit it, he wished that Max was home. Neil was never quite as violent when she was around. As his dad liked to put it, “It’s up to the men of the house to set a good example.” What bullshit. What about being a good dad for me?

Billy shoved that thought into the back of his mind as soon as it pushed itself to the surface. If he couldn’t have a good mom, then he didn’t need a shitty dad to take her place. I don’t need anyone.

That wasn’t true, of course. He needed you.

Billy had always prided himself on the strong sense of independence he’d developed after his mom had left. He looked out for himself first and kept others at bay. He made up excuses as to why this was the case—“They’re not good enough for me,” and “I’m not gonna stick around here long enough to make friends,” were two of his favorites—but the real reason was that he was scared. He’d lost the person he cared for the most, and he couldn’t bear for that to happen again. You were different, though. He’d never planned on letting you past the walls he’d built up, but somehow, you’d managed to weasel your way into his stone-cold heart and had made a home there. You were like a safe haven—you provided a space where he could be vulnerable without fear of judgment or fighting, but that scared him, too. He was becoming too dependent on you to always be there to make things better, but was that such a bad thing?

Yes, he could hear his dad say. You’re being weak. Stop it.

Billy rolled over on the mattress, and his eyes fell on the picture of you he had taped to his mirror. You looked so happy that, even though you weren’t there with him, he could almost feel the warmth your smile radiated.

Usually, when his dad got like this, Billy would retreat to your house, where you would kiss him until the bruises his father had left behind were no longer discernible from the smudges of your lipstick, but he couldn’t. Not this time. It was winter break, and your parents had surprised you with a trip to the mountains, leaving him here alone in Shithole, Indiana, and that was fine. It should’ve been fine. How could he possibly expect you to be ready and waiting with open arms every time he got his feelings hurt?

And yet Billy did. He knew it was unfair to you, but he couldn’t help it. He was like your personal, little parasite. Once upon a time, you had been the one following him around like a lost puppy, but somewhere down the line, the tables had turned.

Billy tore his gaze from the picture of you stuck to his mirror and turned onto his back. He listened out for any movement from his father, but all he heard was silence. It wasn’t a comforting silence, though. It was the sort that could be broken at any moment with fresh fits of rage, and that was the last thing that Billy wanted. So, he left.

It was nearing three in the morning when Billy finally pulled the Camaro off the road and into the parking lot of a gas station. It was closed, and he wondered if he’d get sent away for trespassing—something that often happened when the local cops were just as bored as he was—but he didn’t let the thought plague him too much. He had no idea where he was—another small town in the middle of nowhere—but it was beyond his father’s reach, so he was content to stop and rest for a while. Billy would go back to Hawkins in the morning, but right now, he needed a little peace with his quiet.

Billy didn’t remember ever falling asleep, but when he opened his eyes again, the sun was peeking at him from behind a curtain of clouds the color of cotton candy. Billy smiled. You would’ve loved this view. Although he didn’t always appreciate it at that moment, you were always waking him up at ungodly hours of the morning to watch the sunrise, but it wasn’t until now that he understood why. It was beautiful, yes, but it was a fresh start. Maybe today would be different. Maybe the spirit of Christmas would finally consume his father, and Billy wouldn’t have to face Neil’s wrath for the rest of winter break.

Who am I kidding?

When Billy got back, he knew nothing would change. It would be the same old Hawkins, void of excitement and void of you, until the end of the week. For now, though, he could watch the sunrise, and maybe up on that mountain, you were watching it, too.

[we-are-inevitable]

babes,,,,,

imagine recovering addict jack kelly listening to tennessee whiskey by chris stapleton,,,,,

and it dawning on him that that’s how he feels about davey. pls i’m gonna cry i cant do this today-

bestie i might have to write this. i think i'm going to write this. i'm gonna write this

HEADCANONS UNDER THE CUT.

TW: alcoholism, drug mention, withdrawal mention

first: let's establish the whole Jack situation.

just because of the content, i'm gonna say jack and davey meet when jack is about twenty-three; he's been able to legally drink for two years, but he's been going hard since he was about... fifteen.

rough home life. no parental support. barely any friends, save for a few scattered across New York City from foster home after foster home.

at his new foster home though, Jack falls in with the wrong crowd. they fight. drink. smoke. some do drugs- mostly weed, but sometimes other things- and jack follows in their footsteps, for the most part.

he doesn't touch any drug harder than weed, but that's okay, because Jack has alcohol. Jack doesn't need drugs to feel numb.

Jack's drinking starts out as just a fun little thing to do with friends, but by the time he's seventeen, he can barely stay sober for longer than two days without needing a drink, and it only worsens as the years continue to go by.

he doesn't go to college. he has a shitty apartment and a shitty job and he spends all of his money on alcohol and can barely afford rent but, hey, it's fine. it's fine! he's fine. everything is fine.

until a new customer comes into the little bodega that jack works at.

jack hasn't seen him around before. at least, he doesn't think so- his memory isn't that great usually, but he would remember a stunning guy like this, right? tall, olive skin, beautiful hazel eyes, a Roman nose, and dark wavy hair that's just this side of curly.

the guy buys something simple: a Starbucks coffee in one of the little refrigerated glass bottles, and a granola bar.

and he buys it the next morning.

and the morning after that.

finally, Jack talks to him on the fourth morning, because the guy comes in a bit earlier and there's no one in the store, so they talk for a little bit.

jack learns that the guy's name is David and that he just recently moved to an apartment down the street. he's twenty-three, like Jack, and is a first year teacher at a local high school.

"Good luck," Jack mentions. "That school is rough. Not a whole lotta student success stories."

"That's alright," David replies, "I like a challenge."

And a challenge he gets, because Jack asks David out about a month after their first conversation, because they talk almost every every morning. And Jack goes all in for the first date; a simple picnic in Central Park, because Jack can't really afford anything nicer, but he makes the food and he's actually sober for it and, yeah, he's a little bit shaky sometimes and, sure, maybe he's just a tad more erratic, but that's just because he's excited. right? that has to be it.

first date goes off without a hitch, and Jack goes to bed without a drink.

but it absolutely bites him in the ass the next morning.

he wakes in a cold sweat with the deepest feeling of dread he's EVER felt, deep within his chest. he's shaking. he feels nauseous. he can't think straight.

jack calls into work.

this behavior continues for the next month and a half. he makes himself be sober for David, he doesn't want David to see this, but as soon as he's alone, Jack gets drunk again, because the withdrawals after even just a few hours make him feel like he's going to die.

he's torn, because his relationship with David- who is now, by title, his boyfriend- is making him feel as good as the alcohol does, but the drinking still has a hold on him.

but for the first time, jack doesn't want it.

he takes a week off of work, gives david some lameass excuse about having a busy week, and holes himself up in his apartment- after throwing away all of the alcohol he has in his possession, even the expensive bottles.

and it fucking sucks. it's a week of absolute torture. he' shakes for hours on end, he feels sick constantly, he has raging headaches and he breaks down more times in the span of a week than he has in years.

when he goes back to work, he looks horrible- to the point of wanting to hide when David comes in.

"Jackie, are you... are you okay?" "Can we- can we talk when you get off?"

so jack and davey talk after davey gets off of work, and jack tells him everything. he doesn't look him in the eyes, but he tells him everything. about the underage drinking, the alcoholism, the withdrawals from trying to quit so suddenly, and he expects David to just walk out of his shitty apartment and leave him without so much as a warning.

but David stays, and David holds him, and David promises to be there every step of the way.

As far as Tennessee Whiskey goes, Jack hears it on the radio when he's been recovering for about a year. He physically has to pull over because of it; it hits harder than he thought it would, and he calls David as soon as it's done. David doesn't answer, obviously, because David is a good teacher, but Jack leaves a message.

"Hey, cielito, I know you're at work, but... thank you. Thank you for.. for everything. I love you. Talk to you later, babe."

that song is an immediate favorite, and, newsflash, it's one of the slow songs that plays at their wedding.

THIS IS ENTIRELY TOO LONG BUT OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS PROMPT AND I'M GONNA WRITE IT EVENTUALLY

[blossom-hwa]

Could I request . . . best friend!chan + boys' night out, some platonic banter and wholesome drunk escapades?

Okay ngl Javi I have never gotten drunk or anything so like.... I’m so sorry I don’t know how to write this smdkgshg but I wanted to write platonic banter and I started this like texting series in my last drabble game so.... I kinda continued it here but with a reader too?? I hope that’s okay I’m so sorry kjfskdjhguh

(Read the original text aus here: danceracha | 3racha | vocalracha | the boyz | both groups aka a nightmare)

Stray Kids drabble game: send me a Stray Kids member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

~

Title: Cafe Shenanigans 2: Electric Boogaloo

Pairing: none (all platonic), reader is gender neutral

Word count: 1.3k

Triggers: cursing

~

quick clarification:

better than tony: chan

chingban: changbin

gremlin: jisung

y/n/wow: y/n

~

better than tony: we have a new worker joining today please for the love of god do Not scare them off

better than tony has added y/n to the group chat!

y/n: chan why is this your nickname

chingban: and why did you talk about a new worker all serious n shit we literally know y/n

gremlin: probably better than we know chan tbh

y/n: what’s my favorite color

chingban: ...

gremlin: ...

y/n: that’s what I thought

better than tony: I'm regretting everything rn 

chingban: ???? nothing has happened ????????

better than tony: something is going to happen I know it is

better than tony: it’s only a matter of time

y/n: chan you still haven’t answered my question

y/n: why is this your nickname

better than tony: I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you

gremlin: I'm gonna do it

chingban: I'm torn between wanting to cease existence

chingban: and wanting to see chan melt into the ground out of embarrassment

better than tony: I swear to fucking god you assholes IF YOU DO IT

gremlin: [ sent 1 audio attachment wow.mp3 ]

y/n: oh my what’s this ??

better than tony: y/n go to work

y/n: I'm taking my break now <3

better than tony: I'm revoking best friend privileges

y/n: that’s fine I can make two whole other best friends right here 

gremlin: :D

chingban: :D

better than tony: I knew this was a mistake

y/n: I think my twenty minute break is long enough to listen to a three minute song! 

y/n: bye whores

better than tony: jisung say your prayers

gremlin: I'm willing to take one for the team

gremlin: it was only a matter of time before they found out anyway

chingban: you can’t argue with that

better than tony: I’D STILL RATHER KEEP IT UNDER FUCKING WRAPS

gremlin: are those choking noises from the back

better than tony: this was a mistake this was a mistake this was a fucking mistake

chingban: dw I'll go check on them

chingban: make sure y/n isn’t dead on their first day on the job

better than tony: I honestly hope they choke

chingban: update all is well

better than tony: damn

gremlin: that?? is??? your???? best????? friend??????

better than tony: not anymore

better than tony: anyone who knows about wow must be put to death

chingban: so our entire friend group should be put to death?????

better than tony: are you arguing with that

gremlin: you know what I can’t argue

gremlin: I'm surprised the fbi hasn’t shot us down yet

y/n has changed their name to wow!

better than tony: ok you know what fuck you

wow: what the fuck are you doing to get the fbi to shoot you down

gremlin: IT’S ALIVE

better than tony: unfortunately

wow: it ??????????????????????????????????

chingban: idk about them but I've never done anything that merits being shot down yb the fbi

gremlin: wow is an offense punishable by death

chingban: I agree it’s an offense but death ???????

better than tony: stop texting and go back to work I'm tired of you all

wow: I'm still on my break

better than tony: everyone except y/n stop texting and go back to work

chingban: the favoritism is real

better than tony: y/n is my best friend suck it up

gremlin: I thought you disowned them from that position ???

better than tony: unfortunately they’re still more tolerable than you two combined

wow: I'm still reeling over being called ‘it’

wow: bitch ass han jisung you think I'm Frankenstein’s monster or some shit? or the clown from that movie???

gremlin: do you want me to answer that question

wow: say your prayers

chingban: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

better than tony: I regret everything

~

wow: hey I didn’t know hyunjin/minho/Felix worked at the build a bear at this mall

chingban: literally where have you been

chingban: they’ve been there for at least six months

gremlin: why is only felix’s name capitalized

wow: 1. bitch do you think I come to the mall to go to build a bear?

wow: 2. autocorrect

wow: wow jisung your autocorrect is shit if it isn’t capitalizing Felix

gremlin: what do you come to the mall for

gremlin: also what of it

wow: to bother chan

wow: and mooch off the wifi because the connection at home is shit

wow: oh and work now ig

better than tony: nice to see your priorities

wow: <3

wow: actually jisung. don’t tell me you fucking actually go back and make Felix uncapitalized 

gremlin: caught

gremlin: and wait till they find out where seungmin/jeongin work at 

chingban: what the fuck why wouldn’t you just let autocorrect do its shit

better than tony: he’s jisung do you really need another reason

chingban: fair enough

gremlin: fair enough

wow: also I've known where the fuck seungmin/jeongin work I used to work at the tutoring center too dumbasses

better than tony: isn’t the pay better there? I still don’t know why you quit

wow: if you mean better by like fifty cents then yeah

gremlin: I-

chingban: I thought tutoring would pay a lot more than working at a shitty cafe???????????????????????????????

wow: yeah that’s what I thought too

wow: and then I found out how much chan was getting paid and I was like what the fuck I'd have so much fun working here even with slightly lower pay 

wow: so I quit

gremlin: respect

wow: wasn’t a hard decision

wow: the kids are horrible

better than tony: I thought you liked some of them

wow: “some” is the key word

chingban: ouch

wow: at least I get to fuck around here without getting in too much trouble

better than tony: isn’t sangyeon chill??

wow: Ella isn’t

gremlin: oh I've heard horror stories from seungin

wow: they’re all true

wow: honestly wish you’d burned down the tutoring center when you set fire to the refrigerator jisung

better than tony: HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT

chingban: more like who DOESN’T know about that

wow: seungmin sent me pics

better than tony: betrayed by my own children

wow: he’s more my child than yours and you know it

chingban: does that mean y/n and chan are our parents????

wow: no

better than tony: no

gremlin: oh my god I have more parents now !!!!!

wow: suddenly I feel Regret

better than tony: welcome to my world

gremlin: I'll set fire to the refrigerator again if you don’t say you’re my parents

better than tony: isn't this how you bribed Jacob into giving you hugs instead of giving me hugs

wow: Jacob?

chingban: other worker along with chanhee they’re on vacation for the week

wow: o

better than tony: also please don't set fire to the refrigerator

better than tony: or even try to

gremlin: have my conditions been met

wow: fucking gremlin bitch ass child

wow: fine I'm one of your parents

gremlin: 1/2

better than tony: fine

gremlin: 2/2 :D

wow: let the record say I only ever wanted seungmin and jeongin

wow: and Felix

gremlin: ouch

chingban: ouch

wow: you force me to be your parent you suffer the consequences

better than tony: Felix is MY SON

wow: SO YOU THINK JUST BECAUSE YOU FUCKERS ARE AUSTRALIAN YOU HAVE AN AUTOMATIC BOND? SUCK MY DICK CHAN

better than tony: I’LL FIGHT YOU

wow: SQUARE UP OLD MAN

chingban: jisung did you predict this

gremlin: in reality no but for the clout yes

chingban: ...

gremlin: I am Agent of Chaos(TM)

chingban: that I can see

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Ill and Alone- Prompt Fill

cw food mention, nausea mention, fever, anxiety, the concept of not feeling bad enough to merit comfort, depression, isolation

Hi!  I am still accepting bingo prompts!  The crossed out prompts are already written, the starred ones are ones that I have gotten, but not posted yet!  Let me know which character you want and if you prefer writing on a drawing! Bingo sheet by the wonderful @celosiaa​

Jon wakes up to Martin leaving before dawn.  Walks him to the door, hands him breakfast and a thermos of tea.  Goes back to bed, the sticky exhaustion nipping at his heals, at the back of his skull.  Inserted in the grit in the corner of his eyes.  

He wakes up to an empty bed, Martin’s side of the room looking sad and empty, usual trinkets of their cohabitation lacking.  No prescription on the nightstand, no glasses, no poetry book, no neatly folded outfit set out for the morning, closet looking empty.  

The room is bathed in the grey light of early morning.  Jon goes back to sleep.  

He wakes up properly at nine.  He makes tea, staring at the faded sticky note that Martin had written precisely how both he and Jon respectively take their tea.  Jon remembers by this point.  It’s been years since he Needed to look at the note, but he still looks at it because… well… it’s Martin’s writing.  Instructions written with care and precision, with a little heart and a smily face.  He doesn’t trace the writing, he isn’t that pathetic, and he doesn’t want the paper to disintegrate any faster than it already is… but he wants to.  

Martin will be back in a couple days.  He shouldn’t be this clingy…  But the flat already feels empty and cold.  Jon shivers, holding his tea close to his chest, and resisting the temptation to make a second cup for Martin.  

Jon teaches his classes.  He eats lunch in his office.  A sandwich that tastes like chalk and fills his mouth with cement.  He grades a few papers.  He teaches another class.  He rides the tube home.  He falls asleep on the couch.  He wakes up on the couch.  The flat cold around him, the cushions stiff and frozen against his slight and hurting frame.  Joints stiff against the chill.  

He thinks about making dinner, or even just reheating some leftovers, but he doesn't.  He texts Martin.  'Love you, hope the volunteer training is going well.'

He falls asleep.  Heavy and aching and so tired.  

He wakes up on the cold couch to a buzz from his phone.  'Going well, just finished up for the night.  Love you!'

It's dark now, but not late.  Daylight doesn't last long in the grey of winter in London.  Jon shivers.  He thinks again about dinner, and how Martin would want him to eat, but he just wants a warm shower and to go to bed.  

He considers his cane, but doesn't feel it worth the effort.  It is out of his way, and he would just like to get this over with.  

Jon hates sitting in the shower, but he hates baths more, and his hurting limbs won't keep him up any longer.  

Jon wakes up in a cold sweat.  Salt on his lips, saltwater on his lashes.  The flat is cold.  Cold like his dreams.  Panic on his breath as the Lonely dreams still hold him in their vice.  He wraps his arms around his chest.  He tries to rub his own back despite aching muscles, trying to make his own boney hands sooth him like Martin can.  He shakes and he cries silently.  

He checks his phone, the low brightness still stinging his eyes, and smears the numbers of the time beyond recognition, but he makes out no new messages.  

He pushes himself out of bed on aching legs, and shaking arms, pulling on one of Martin's sweaters and stopping by the loo.  

He makes tea.  And tries to take comfort because it is almost as good as when Martin makes it.  

Jon goes back to bed.  

It's morning and Jon's head hurts.  His head hurts and his arms hurt and his legs hurt and his back hurts.  

He almost pushes himself up to get ready for work, but he remembers it is Saturday.  

Jon rolls over to Martin's side of the bed.  Placing himself in the divot where Martin would be, if he were not out of town.  

Jon texts Martin.  'Morning, have a nice day, love you.'

Jon dozes.  

He should make breakfast.  But he isn't hungry, and he doesn't want to move.  Even if his small frame isn't holding heat, even under the thick covers of their bed.  He wants the weighted blanket.  He wants the heated blanket, but those live in the closet.  Those are for bad nights.  Mostly of the time He and Martin under the thick duvet is enough.  

But it isn't night and it isn't that bad, is it?  And even so, that is more effort that he thinks he can spare.  

He texts Martin.  

He texts Martin.  

He texts Martin.  

He texts Martin.  

Meaningless texts with the mundanities that are beyond him.  Little messages about missing him, about making tea, about reading.  None of them lies, but cutting out the dragging exhaustion that has given way to a dragging fever.  

And Martin texts back.  

Jon bundled in the heated blanket and Martin's jumper on the couch.  Dosing off to the Archers.  He still hates that show, but it's easier to hate something for the content than admitting he feels too shitty to even enjoy the documentaries he has been saving for the weekend.  

He grades some.  Not much.  And he makes tea.  

He thinks again about the leftovers in the refrigerator, but he doesn't have the energy to eat them.  Lacks the appetite.  

Jon falls asleep on the couch.  Tea cooling on the coffee table.  Papers spread around him in uneven heaps.  

Jon texts Martin.  And Martin texts back.  

Only the buzz of the phone keeping him from sinking deeper into misery.    

Jon texts him whenever he is awake to do so, and Martin texts back during his breaks.  

Jon's head hurts.  He is shivering despite the heated blanket that is tight around him.  Woken from another nightmare by his own gasping breath.  The Stranger this time.  

He calls Tim.  

"Jon?  Everything okay?"

Still gasping from the phantom hands rubbing him down, fighting the nausea that comes with that particular brand of terror, of that trauma of his invaded personal space.  And the desperation that someone come and save him from his cold and empty flat and end this lonely weekend.  

"Jon, are you alright?  Where are you, do you need your inhaler?"  

Jon probably does, but he fights for breath for a minute and he's more or less okay.  

"I'm home.  It's fine, sorry for calling."  He feels foolish for being needy, and more foolish still because he's fighting back tears now.  Tears over nothing at all.  Just the fever.  Just the dreams.  Martin will be home tomorrow, and Jon will probably be feeling better by then, and if not, it's probably mostly exhaustion anyways.  He's been having a hard time getting restful sleep.  

"Hey, hey, hey Jon.  It's okay to call.  Are you alright?  Do you need someone to come over?"  Tim isn't angry.  It still surprises Jon that there is no bite to his voice.  No snipping, not sarcasm, not annoyance.  Just... warmth, caring.  

"Just a little under the weather.  I'm okay.  Sorry for bothering you... Had a dream... and just... Sorry it's foolish.  I'm alright."  Jon shivers, and hoping he doesn't sound too soggy over the phone.  He aches.  Stupid joints.  Stupid immune system.  Gives out the minute Martin leaves.  Which... good.  He guesses… at least Martin isn't losing sleep over him this time.  He hates that Martin doesn't sleep when caring for Jon.  He Hates it.  He hates stealing sleep for him, even if this is the mundane way of doing it, he still has cost Martin too much over the years.  

"I'm gonna come over, okay?  It's not a bother, it's not an inconvenience, I had been planning to give you a visit anyhow, I've been too busy to drop by in a while and I want to see you because you are my friend, and if I make you soup as well, hey we both get dinner out of it.  I promise I Want to.  Sasha still has work, so I don't have any company tonight anyhow.  No plans.  Nothing."

"Not been hungry."  That's all Jon has the energy to argue.  

"Feeling queasy, or just the usual fever nonsense?"  Tim asks.  He sounds too cheerful for this.  

"Nightmare queasy now, but mostly just... fever probably."

"Oof.  One of those nightmares?  Yikes.  Well, that kind usually passes in a bit, then we can make you some Spicy Stoker Sick-day Soup.  This Is to my benefit.  Sasha isn't a big fan, and Martin isn't either.  It's a good excuse to make some good comfort food."

Jon almost smiles.  "'kay."  

Tim must guess he's falling asleep again.  "Get some rest.  I'll be there soon with some soup stuff and meds.  Don't worry about letting me in, I have a key, remember?"

Jon falls asleep on the couch.  

He wakes up to tea being set in front of him.  

Jon groans and rubs at his eyes.  

"I know I've said it before, but that note in the kitchen is fucking adorable!  I mean... a little sad that it took you that long to learn how to make yourself tea, but still fucking precious that the note still has a place of honor.  Not to mention, it's good reference for when I want to make you the perfect comfort cup of tea!"  Tim smiles at him.  

And it isn't the same as with Martin, but it still warms him up.  At least a little.  

"Hey bud, how are you feeling?"

Jon tiredly rock his hand in a so-so motion.  

"Mind if I take your temperature before you drink that tea?"

Jon turns his attention inward to see if what remains of the Eye wants to be helpful today.  "38.6."

"That... I can't tell if that is handy or inconvenient.  In any case, not bad but not great.  You okay if I start the soup?  You can either get some more rest of join me in the kitchen and we can watch some Buzzfeed on my laptop?"

Jon nods.  He gathers his blanket and his tea, and limps to the kitchen.  

Tim sucks in his breath at Jon's clearly stiff movements, and rushes to plug the blanket back in before Jon can move to do so.  

"You.  Are not gonna help, okay?  You can help by drinking your tea, and some water and then getting back to the couch and using me as a pillow and eating a little something."

Jon opens his mouth to argue, but sees the steel in Tim's glare.  Nothing unkind, but still solid resistance.  He nods.  

Jon falls asleep on Tim.  On the couch.  Empty bowls stacked next to Tim's laptop, cord plugged in next to Jon's blanket.  

Tim stays the next afternoon until Martin gets home.  Marin scolding Jon for not telling him he was ill.  Martin thanking Tim for coming.  Martin wrinkling his nose at the soup.  

Martin's prescription and glasses, and clothes and book back in their proper places.  Martin in Martin's divot in the mattress, Jon smooshed against Martin, still a shade too warm, but much better than earlier.  

Jon falls asleep in Martin's arms.  

[dontshootmespence]

Teetering on the Edge

Summary: You and Dean are meant for each other, but in his line of work, he deems your relationship too dangerous for the long haul, pushing you away, leaving you both worse for the wear.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 1,893

Warnings: Cursing, nausea, vomiting, fever, seizures.

A/N: This will fulfill my ‘pining sickness’ square for @spnabobingo​, soulmate au (same mark on each other’s skin that reaches for its counterpart when there’s distance between you) for @spnfluffbingo (sorry I never seem to be able to do strict fluff with supernatural characters XD) and ‘I’d rather be in danger with you than safe without you’ for @spnquotebingo​.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You screamed, racing down the stairs after him. There was no way he was going to walk away and pretend this wasn’t happening. Not anymore. “Don’t fucking walk away from me!”

Dean rounded on so fast it scared you. “Y/N, I am toxic!” He bellowed, stopping Sam in his tracks behind you. “Every, single, time I get involved with someone, they die! Monsters, hunters, angels, demons, shitty fucking humans! It doesn’t matter. They will use you to get to me!”

“So what?” You stormed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of beer, snapping the cap off through sheer anger before taking a long sip. Even alcohol wasn’t helping your rattling nerves. “When you love someone, you do things you wouldn’t normally do! Did I expect this life? No way, but I’m in it now and I’m in love with you, you fucking moron!”

He hesitated slightly, your words undoubtedly getting to him despite himself. “Well, I don’t feel the same way.”

Sam glared at him disbelievingly, not saying a word. Dean elbowed you out of the way of the refrigerator and grabbed another beer, downing nearly half of it before continuing. “I care about you. And I care about you enough to turn you away from me and this life.” 

“Don’t you fucking dare pull that neanderthal bullshit with me, Alpha!” You yelled your throat hoarse. Sam dipped out of the area and back toward his bedroom. It didn’t matter. Whether he was here or not, you’d be seething. “You don’t get to decide my life for me! Have you ever thought that maybe I’d rather be in danger with you than safe without you?” He readied himself to respond but you pushed against his shoulder with a force that startled even you. “Did you ever stop to think that I’ve waited my entire life to find the person I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with? And that now that I found him, I’ll be damned if I let him go?”

You were on a roll. Dean wanted to speak, but you wouldn’t let him. “No! You didn’t fucking think about what I want! Because your number one priority is to make sure you don’t have anymore blood on your hands. Well, guess what. You don’t get to do that. Not with me! When you care, you get blood on your hands. That’s just the way it is. I get to make my own damn decisions!” It all just exploded out of you. You kept screaming and crying and drinking to the point where you weren’t even sure what you were saying anymore. As you kept going, your arguments shifted from his demeanor to your own health. “You claimed me,” you said, pulling your sleeve aside to shove the mark in his face. “You know what’ll happen to me without you? I could fucking die!” 

Dean waited for you to stop ranting, steadily finishing his beer. Once you were all yelled out, he chose his words wisely. “There’s medication. You’ll be fine. You’re not going to change my mind,” he said flatly, trying to keep any sense of emotion out of his voice, even though you could tell he was right on the edge of acknowledging every amazing and shit feeling he was feeling in this moment. “I need you to get out of the bunker as soon as possible. For your own good.”

Without thinking, you reeled back and slapped him, open palm to cheek, relishing in the sound of the crack that reverberated throughout the bunker. “Fuck you, Alpha! Fuck. You.”

You kept his gaze as you dipped down to grab your bag. If he was going to pull this bullshit, he was going to look into your broken gaze and suffer while he did it. You weren’t going to be the only one to feel like jumping off the edge of a cliff. Fuck him. 

As you climbed the stairs, you glanced down at your hand and glimpsed the ring he’d given you. Boiling with anger, you ripped it off your finger and threw it at him, turning to leave before he could see the tears rolling down your cheeks.

----

You knew the possibilities. It could be as little as a fever and nausea that plagued you. Or it could go to the other end of the spectrum and kill you. With tear-stained cheeks, and no care for who saw you in this state, you headed out the night after your fight with Dean and meet with a doctor at an urgent clinic that specialized in working with omegas. After he checked your vital signs, he leaned against the wall. You felt no threat from him. He was an unassuming beta, which is why you tended to come here. “What can I help you with?”

“I was wondering if I might be able to get some medication to combat pining sickness?” You swiped the silently falling tears and snot from your face with the back of your sleeve. 

“You’re mated?”

“Yes, but my Alpha is a pig-headed, son-of-a-bitch in a dangerous line of work that thinks he’s doing me favors by staying away from me.”

“He knows how dangerous pining sickness can be, right?”

Nodding, you stared down at the mark on your hand, cursing its movement as another tear slipped down your cheek. “Yea, but he said there’s medication and he’s adamant that he’s too dangerous for me to be around.”

“He should’ve thought about that before mating with you,” the beta said angrily. When he met your gaze, his own softened. “I can give you something. I hope he comes to his senses, but if he doesn’t I can write up refills for as long as you need, okay?”

A strained smile was all you could muster as you took the prescription from him and bid him a good day, thanking him again for his time and understanding. Less than an hour later, your prescription was filled. One pill a day. Down the hatch.

----

Shakily, you took another pill. Five days since Dean had shoved you out of his life. It started with shakes and a fever, despite the pill. If you didn’t have the pill you might be dead already. 

Pain racked your body, tensed every muscle so badly you could do almost nothing but sleep. Pulling the covers back up over your head, you attempted to shut your eyes against the pain. Bile burnt at the back of your throat. You barely made it to the sink before the little food you’d been able to eat the last few days found its way back up and out. 

Wiping the remnants away, you fell back against the wall and slipped to the cold, hard tile. It took all the strength you had to reach into your pocket and call Sam. Dean wouldn’t pick up, but Sam might. And maybe he could convince Dean to pull his head out of his ass. 

“Hello? Y/N?” Sam asked, his voice growing more concerned when you didn’t answer him. “Y/N, are you there?”

You replied, your voice barely above a whisper, despite trying. “Sam, I’m not well. Dean won’t pick up. I’m shaking. I have a crazy fever, even though I’m on meds. I can’t sleep and it’s only getting worse. Every day. I feel like my insides are boiling. Please, talk to him.”

“You’re on medication?”

“Since the day after I walked out. It’s not helping. Without it, I’d be dead already. Please, Sam. Try. Or I’m not gonna make it.”

Sam’s reply got caught in his throat. “I’ll get him to pull his head out of his ass, I promise.”

A laugh escaped you, but it hurt. “It’s really far up there, Sam.”

“I know.”

----

Every movement felt like climbing a mountain. And every waking moment was a fight to keep living. You started having seizures and could barely keep any food down. Water was all you could stomach.

Another three days past before you heard from Sam again. “He’s immovable, Y/N. Is the medication helping at all?”

“No,” you sobbed, though no tears slid down onto your pillow. “I’m having seizures. I’m burning up. I’m trying to stay on my side so that I don’t choke if I have a seizure, but I’m- I’m not gonna make it. I need you to tell Dean that despite everything...I loved him.”

Hanging up, you tossed the phone across the room with the strength you could muster and teared up again at the sight of the mark on your hand. It had always reminded you of an oak tree, but now the leaves looked like tendrils, crawling across your skin in search of its counterpart. You ran your opposite thumb across the mark and fell asleep, not knowing whether you’d wake up the next morning.

----

Dim light shined into your eyes the following morning, practically blinding you. Your muscles were stiff, barely limber enough to prop yourself up in bed without searing pain, but you managed, taking another pill even though it probably wasn’t doing anything.

Taking a trip to the bathroom was a monumental affair, but on the way you grabbed your phone again. You were so tired. You weren’t going to make it another day. Teetering on the edge of an abyss.

Once again on the bed, you called Dean this time, not surprised when it went to voicemail. “Hey, Alpha. I just...I needed to call you one last time. My temperature’s 105. I can barely move my muscles. I’m having seizures. I won’t make it another day. I know I asked Sam to tell you, but I needed you to hear it from me. Despite everything, despite your bull-headedness and completely dumbassery...I love you. I knew when we first met, even before I saw the mark on your hand, that you were my soulmate. And even though I’m not going to make it, the years we spent together were the best of my life.”

The phone slipped from your grasp after you hung up, thudding against the sheets. Through the gossamer curtains, you marveled at the sun, remembered what it looked like the day you met Dean, before drifting off to sleep.

----

A strong grasp shook you awake.

“Alpha?”

“’Mega, ‘M here.”

When you opened your eyes, you saw his soft greens gazing back at you, filmed by tears as deep as the ocean. “Am I dead?”

“No,” he sobbed. “Mega, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I was a fuckin idiot. Stay with me.”

His hands slid up the dry, cracked skin on your arms and up your face. His touch was warm - home. “Fucking idiot would be an understatement.”

Something between a laugh and a sob left his lips. “I know. Baby, ‘Mega, open your eyes.” His thumb traveled back and forth over your cheek, coaxing your eyes to open. “That’s it. Just...stay with me, okay?”

He spoke to you as he stripped himself of his clothes and you of yours, crawling into bed behind you. When his skin melted into yours, you felt a modicum of relief. Something that gave you the slightest bit of hope. “Don’t leave me,” you whispered. 

His hand grasped yours, the mark on his hand melding with yours. “Never again.”