#do they ever shut up they only ever make headline for being dumb | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

here2bbtstrash · 3 years ago

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bts on the bachelorette

i really tried to relax for 5 minutes today with some dumb reality TV and then my brain wouldn't shut up. have you ever wondered what bangtan's elimination order would be on a season of the bachelorette???? well wonder no more my friends...

(this started as a headcanon and then morphed into kind of a drabble? tbh i don't even know what's happening here. just enjoy it lmao 😂)

the first one sent home is yoongi - yes, i think my sweet baby boy would get sent home night one. this breaks my heart but i just see him being too reserved, too closed off, not jumping to make a first impression and getting lost in the shuffle. he would ABSOLUTELY be one of those first-eliminated guys who gets a whole legion of fans tho, and they campaign HARD to get his pale ass on paradise 😂

next to go is seokjin - he would get kept around just long enough to be a villain lmaoooo. the one guy who drives all the others crazy because he’s cocky as fuck about his looks and is NOT here to make friends. i could see jk telling on him to bachelorette and there being a whole dramatic confrontation where she rips the rose out of his hands and says “get the fuck out of here”. he absolutely makes and sells worldwide handsome merch after.

the next one out is jimin - and he's definitely the dude who gets by on sex appeal alone LMAO. the one where bachelorette is like ‘i’m just not sure i have the same connection with jimin’ and then he takes his shirt off and she’s like ‘……i’m sorry can you repeat the question’. they have at least two steamy makeout sessions before she finally has to send him packing tho, good for her 🥰

the first heartbreaking elimination is hoseok - my love, my angel, hobi is totally gonna end up in the friend zone on a show like this. he’s so caring and subtly sexy but i could see him being more of a support system for bachelorette and the person who brings her the inside scoop on what’s going on in the house. they’d both cry when she eliminates him but he’d be so sweet and understanding and go out of his way to make sure she smiles before he walks out. truly only wants the best for her.

then, the shocking elimination that's teased for weeks: jungkook - when i tell you twitter EXPLODES. you’ll see headlines about this one on the motherfucking NEWS in the morning. doe-eyed, tattooed, sexy shy badboy jk eliminated?!?!??! has the bitch lost her MIND????? but bachelorette just can’t get over the fact that he’s so young, and she’s afraid he’s not ready to make such a serious commitment.

there’s a ton of push-pull where she feels like jk doesn’t “fight for her” enough because he is more reserved, but then he’ll do something competitive and it’s just enough to keep her hooked on him a little longer, until this episode where she finally has to let him go. he definitely has an extended crying montage on the way out/in the car where he says some stuff about how he’d never been in love like this before. omg ouch let’s move on i’m hurt.

WHICH LEAVES THE FINAL TWO!!!!! and bachelorette is so torn!!! 😩

taehyung is gorgeous, romantic, and sensual (insert clip from a date of him feeding her chocolate covered strawberries). he’s an old soul, passionate, but has an extremely dry sense of humor that bachelorette falls HARD for. she loves that they can laugh together, and he isn’t afraid to look stupid or try something new (insert clip of them doing that indoor skydiving thing on a date). and he’s also not afraid to tell her exactly what he wants- marriage, kids, a life with her by his side.

but sometimes he can be hard to read. he’s honestly so good looking it makes her a little insecure, and she just has this nagging feeling like he isn’t quite letting her all the way in....but she can't tell if that's just her own fear about finding a love this intense.

namjoon is intelligent, supportive, and so goddamn sexy (insert clip from a group date competition of him doing pull-ups). bachelorette feels comfortable with him in a way she doesn’t quite have words for. sometimes she swears it feels like she’s met him before in another lifetime, and this is just a reunion. (insert clip from a picnic date where she rests her head in joon’s lap as he reads to her). he’s so well-spoken and such a deep thinker, and the world falls head over heels for the conversations they’re able to have about love, loyalty, identity, emotions.

but she’s not sure she feels the same passion and fire with him that she does with taehyung. namjoon admits outright that he doesn’t know what he wants in life, is unsure about marriage or kids, and when he gets too in his head and insecure about the competition, he can shut her out without meaning to.

we watch with bated breath as bachelorette takes her place at the gorgeous vista decorated for her proposal. everyone who’s seen the show before knows that whoever steps out of the limo first is the one she’s chosen to send home.

hearts shatter nationwide when joon ducks his head to exit the car.

bachelorette stops him before he can even go into his speech, laughs a little to herself: “I know if I let you start talking it’s going to change my mind, so let me go first.” explains that she’s just too scared of his indecisiveness. she’s prone to overthinking herself, so she needs someone who is going to offer stability, someone who is ready and knows what he wants. joon takes it like the gentleman he is, one dimple popping in a sad half-smile, and she presses up on her tiptoes to give him a hug.

which just leaves taehyung. he steps out of the car with a deep exhale, and you can see even from afar that his hands are shaking as he makes his way to bachelorette, mouth dropping open slightly at how gorgeous she looks.

the proposal is like something out of a movie, a long, perfect speech delivered in tae’s shaky baritone as a breeze ruffles through his hair and toys with the hem of bachelorette's dress. he winds back through their time together accompanied by an edited montage, and finally ends with the truth: he knew as soon as he laid eyes on her that this was meant to be, and that she was the one. the music swells as he drops to a knee and pulls out a big-ass diamond ring, and they’re both crying by the time she says yes.

~then, after the show wraps:

namjoon, fan fave that he is, appears in a suit on the reunion show to gladly accept the title of the next bachelor. expect LOTS of gratuitous clips of him in the gym during his intro package ooooof 🥵

the vast majority of our faves end up going to paradise- yoongi fucks literally every girl there LMAO, jungkook goes for one week but is too nervous to talk to anyone and just chats with the bartender and drinks fruity cocktails until he gets sent home. jimin and hobi have an epic summer bromance and end up choosing each other over any of the women.

and then, i mean, if we're being realistic... tae cheats on bachelorette 3 months into their engagement and they call the whole thing off 💀

#bts imagine #bts headcanon #bts scenario #bts x reader #I'M GONNA ACTUALLY WATCH MY SHOW NOW DAMN

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

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Book Club - 90s!Luke Patterson

Summary: Reggie books a gig at a suburban mom’s book club and Luke takes full advantage of the situation to flirt with you.

A/N: I’m literally writing two other Luke fics right now 😭😭

Julie and the Phantoms Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The third Thursday of every month belonged to your mother. It was her day, when she demanded not to be bothered, when she spent hours out of the house socializing with the women’s group that she belonged to. And, out of all those Thursdays, there were always the very special few when it wasn’t her leaving the house but everyone else. The group rotated their meeting time, everyone for a blue moon meeting at your house, meaning, of course that you were expected to stay out. Staying out was not a difficult thing to do, in fact you relished the opportunity to spend a few more hours with your friends. 

It was one of those Thursdays, when all the ladies that your mother loved to lunch with were spending the afternoon at your house and you were making yourself scarce, that arguably the weirdest but maybe best thing happened. Your mom had told you before you left for school that morning that she expected you to stay out, and you would have, if you had remembered your wallet. But you’d left it in your room, on the edge of the vanity, and you didn’t want to be the one owing money when your friends went to lunch. A quick stop home should’ve been easy, the stairs were right off the kitchen and the side door was right there, giving you the opportunity to shoot upstairs and grab your wallet without her being the wiser to it. 

The whole thing would’ve gone off without a hitch except that when you walked through the side door and into the kitchen you came face to face with four boys from your school. You recognized them more for the fact that you didn’t hang out in the same circle; most of your friends held a certain level of contempt for the four guys that made up Sunset Curve. You didn’t necessarily dislike any of them, you didn’t necessarily even know them, though you would be lying if you said that the lead singer, who occasionally sat in front of you in math, was seriously making you rethink a deep dive into all this rock music. Luke, Reggie, Alex, and Bobby were standing in your kitchen. They were the Green Day/Nirvana worshipping, head banging rockers that ditched school regularly and got into worlds of trouble and they were standing in your kitchen.

Bobby was the only one who looked up from snacking on leftover hors d’oeurves, saying your name in surprise as the other three all stopped to look at you too. Alex gave an awkward little wave as he set down the small sandwich he was eating.

“Uh...what are you guys doing in my house,” you asked, looking between the four of them.

“Your mom tapped us to perform for her ladies club.” Luke explained, dropping his food on the plate and wiping his hands against his black pants.

Your mom had invited these four to sing for her conservative ladies’ group? You tried not to but you couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face when you thought about it. Whatever your friends said about the guys, you weren’t ashamed to say you had taken one of the free demos that Reggie handed out and had been listening to it on repeat for a while now. “My mom wanted you guys to play a gig for her and her friends?” You clarified.

“Until we started playing,” Reggie replied, and you couldn’t help laughing.

“I bet...you guys aren’t exactly...suburban mom rock.” You joked, “though I totally would’ve loved to see their faces when you guys started singing.”

The grin on Luke’s face was unmistakable though you missed it as you nabbed one of the sandwiches on the plate near Alex. It was probably some really stupid cliche, him liking one of the popular girls. Cute, cheerleader, future prom queen. You hung out with people who listened to Britney Spears and Spice Girls, any knowledge of the rock scene they might’ve actually had was only for the sake of making dumb jabs at him or his friends. Still, Luke had a massive crush on you and he wasn’t so embarrassed to admit it. Bobby joked that he wanted to “bring you over to the dark side” and maybe that sounded cynical but he thought he wouldn’t mind seeing you look a little less perfectly put together if it had something to do with him. Hearing you mention his music almost had him doing a back flip from excitement.

“So you’ve listened to our music?” Luke asked, moving closer to you, leaning on the counter beside you. Behind him, Alex rolled his eyes.

“Reggie gave out demos like...last month.” You shrugged, trying to play it off. You’d been excited to listen to their music, see if it was any good and had discovered that you actually loved it. They were talented guys and you felt surprisingly connected to the songs. “I might’ve listened.”

“I did!” Reggie piped up, “I gave demos to all the-” he stopped, mouthing instead, as if you wouldn’t understand him when he said ‘all the cute girls’.

“I hate to ask but...don’t you think like, actual clubs would be better places to promote your music? I don’t think the middle-aged moms are really a target audience, unless you’re into that kind of thing?” You said, peering down the hallway when you heard the familiar squeak of a floorboard. If the boys were still here than there was no doubt in your mind that your mom had told them to stay for some reason or another.

“You gotta start somewhere.” Luke replied, unfazed by the hint of judgement in your voice.

“My living room?” You asked, jokingly.

He smiled, “actually, we’re playing a club on the strip tomorrow night, we could, maybe, get you on the guest list?”

“We’re opening for someone else,” Bobby cut in, bringing Luke back down to reality, “I’m pretty sure no one’s ever even heard of the band we’re opening for.”

Luke glared at Bobby, sticking his finger in his mouth and then jabbing it into Bobby’s ear, a smile of success immediately lighting up his features when Bobby recoiled in disgust. “So what’d ya say?” Luke asked.

“I mean, I guess technically every band deserves girls screaming for them, so sure…I’ll go.” You agreed, eyes on Luke the entire time.

The last concert you had been to wasn’t even for you, your mom had dragged you to a Beach Boys concert up in San Francisco for her birthday weekend when your father refused to indulge her so-called ‘terrible taste in music’. “There are just some things we will never agree on and music is one of them.” He had insisted back then. It was the same thing you felt like telling your friends when you declined a party invitation in favor of heading down to the strip to see the guys play. You could’ve maybe played it off casually, as if you were heading down there anyway and Sunset Curve just happened to be opening but Bobby was right, you’d never heard of the band that was performing after them.

Not to mention Luke decided to show up for a least a quarter of the day just to mess with your head. You had spotted him in the hallway between classes and smiled when he looked your way, a split second before the sea of students scrambled to get to their lockers. Your own best friends appeared by yours, looking more and more like carbon copies of the Heathers every day. You kind of hated them, truth be told, but you didn’t have too many other options.

They were badgering you about the party as you tried to wrack your brain for an excuse that sounded convincing when Luke stopped, right in front of the three of you.

“Hey, I’ll see ya tonight?” He asked, whole body turned to face you and completely ignoring the looks of disdain and shock cloaking your friends faces.

You felt like a deer in headlights. Say yes and your friends would probably ostracise you, say no and you could just imagine the look on Luke’s face. Anything but this absolutely sincere and hopeful smile was something you didn’t want to be responsible for. You really liked him looking at you like that.

“Yeah, can’t wait.” You nodded.

When he stepped back out into the traffic of the hallway he touched your waist, as if he was anchoring himself for a second and you bit your lip, letting yourself watch him disappear before turning to face the firing squad.

“Luke Patterson?” Both of your friends spoke in unison, one breaking off to elaborate, “you’re ditching a party at Max Turner’s house for Luke Patterson?”

“His band is playing at some club on the strip.” You replied, shutting your locker and heading toward your next class. “They invited me to come watch the show.”

“And you’re going?”

You hadn’t been to anything smaller than a stadium concert before and the implication of a concert at a local club venue, right on the strip with all the ‘riffraff’ that were hanging around trying to make it big like their 80’s punk rock idols wasn’t exactly your scene but, Luke had looked so cute asking you to go and you had the tiniest, maybe delusional, feeling that he’d come to school just to remind you that tonight was the concert. How could could even consider some suburban house party to that?

“Yeah, why not,” you shrugged, trying to play it off like it was nothing, you could see your social status flashing before your eyes and your mom’s voice desperately begging you to reconsider. “Besides, Luke’s hot.”

“Did you have some kind of Freaky Friday switch when you woke up this morning? Luke is not hot.”

“Okay,” you drew the word as if disbelieving. He wasn’t some 90210 reincarnate but he was definitely one of the hottest guys in school, not to mention the sleeveless shirts were an added bonus. “Well, I said I was going, so I’m going.”

And, despite the continued protests of your friends throughout the day, you did go. You promised your parents you were spending Friday night studying at Terri’s house and took the bus down to the strip to wait in line for Sunset Curve and whoever was headlining. You stood there twirling your fake ID in your hands, listening to the two girls in front of you (who didn’t need fakes) talk about some drummer that wasn’t anyone you’d ever heard of and tried to look as mature as possible. If Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Bobby could play this venue, surely you could get into it.

Whether the ID worked or the bouncer at the front door just didn’t care, he let you through, admitting you into a pulsing crowd of people making their way through the small vestibule and into the venue. You slipped your way through the crowd until you made it to the front, pressed against the railing and inches away from another bouncer who seemed just as disinterested in you. The drumkit that was already on the stage had the Sunset Curve logo on it. You ran a hand through your hair and fixed your shirt, maybe it was silly but you were sort of hoping that even in the silhouetted lighting of the venue you Luke might see you. Maybe a little pathetic groupie on your end but he had invited you.

And he did see you. Halfway through Now or Never when he looked down over the crowd, he caught you, dancing along to their music, the smile on your face as you mouthed the words was infectious. It was the combination of seeing someone singing all the songs back to them and that person being you, mixed with the adrenaline of the performance, that had him pushing to give his absolute all. You’d actually come and he was determined to make this a great concert for you.

Alex was the one to announce that they would be in the vestibule during the lull between bands, they got the occasional straggler who dared to leave their post long enough to say hello or great job but usually it garnered nothing more than the four of them splitting some pizza and relaxing by their merch table. Tonight, as they headed off stage to an enthusiastic crowd, Luke chanced a glance back but he couldn’t find you in the sea of people. Reggie grabbed his arm, pulling him the rest of the way off the stage and throwing an arm around his shoulder, going on about how awesome the show was, Luke quickly returning the jovial compliment.

“We were fire, man, that sounded so rad tonight!” He cheered, following Alex and Bobby as they made their way through the small hall that wove back into the vestibule.

“It was insane!” Reggie agreed.

You had made your way back through the venue after Luke mentioned being at the merch table, slipping back passed the bouncer at the inside door, flashing your stamped hand. Their table was set up in the corner, a little way away from the headlining band’s. You stepped into the vestibule at the same time as the boys, waving at Alex when he looked your way. He nodded, reaching over to tap Luke’s chest with the back of his hand.

“That was incredible.” You admitted, walking over to their table. Luke’s smile instantly widened as he walked around to your side, not even thinking as he hugged you, your shoulders hunching at the feeling of sweat that encompassed you. “Ew.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Luke apologized, pulling away and putting his hands on your upper arms for a second before dropping them to his sides. “Still going off the adrenaline.”

“That’s okay,” you promised, “you’re cute enough to get away with it.”

“Yeah?” He leaned against the table, trying to look cool. He felt like he was grasping for words and he didn’t want to start stuttering or sounding dumb, Bobby would never let him live it down if he made a fuck up of himself. The other three tried not to laugh and ruin his moment.

You seemed to recover from the moment first, glancing at the other three before landing on Luke again. “You guys are totally a live band though...like that was so good.”

Reggie came in with a save, letting Luke off the hook for a moment, “Are you heading back in to see the headliner?”

You grimaced, “don’t really know them...not really interested.” You replied, keeping your eyes on Luke, hoping that was hint enough that you’d come just to see him.

It clearly was because, as a few girls stepped into the vestibule and looked like they were coming your way, Luke grabbed your arm, nodding toward the doorway for you to follow him. You did, walking with him into the hallway so that it was quieter, the sounds of the house music and the chatter of people outside being drowned out in the small corridor.

“So, uh, sorry I’m still wigging out that you came.” He admitted.

“I said I was going to, twice. Did you seriously think I was lying?” You asked.

“I mean, I heard your friends giving you a hard time when I walked away, figured you might back out.”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t, seriously Luke, you guys are amazing. You’re so talented.” You replied.

“Guess I was right when I told Reggie to take that book club gig huh?” He said, fiddling with the rabbit’s foot on his keychain.

“Why’s that?”

“I thought maybe if I was lucky, I’d catch a glimpse of you...having you come here and watch us though? Better than I could’ve imagined.” He replied, grinning at you.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, don’t act so surprised.” He said, “you gotta know how insanely cool you are. And you look beautiful tonight, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you bit your bottom lip to try and keep your composure, “I uh...damn, you’re making me super nervous.”

“Yeah?” He stepped a little closer to you, his hands brushing against yours as if he was going to hold them. You couldn’t help wishing he would.

“I should probably let you get back to your fans,” you pointed out, glancing back out the door to where a few more people had gathered. If you stayed in this hallway with him any longer there was no way you were letting him back out.

“Hang out? We could grab some pizza or something after?” He asked.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

When he walked back through the door you followed behind him, hanging back so you weren’t hovering around them as they chatted with and signed stuff for the group of people that had ventured out between sets. It didn’t matter though, as he talked, he kept looking back at you smiling as if you were both in on some sort of secret.

#luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #luke patterson x you #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson fanfic #luke patterson fanfiction #luke patterson fic #julie and the phantoms fic #julie and the phantoms fanfic #julie and the phantoms fanfictions #julie and the phantoms imagine #jatp fanfic #jatp fanfiction #jatp fic #jatp imagine #collecting stories imagine

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vomitdodger · 8 months ago

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It’s not misinfo or disinfo EVER Being banned. EVER. Past or present. US or Venezuela. Or elsewhere.

It’s tyrannical rule and censorship against a marketplace of ideas and facts. That marketplace being a threat to the commie regime. Period. Full stop. All speech is free speech even the most hateful. People need to hear what dumb ass people say. Short of a direct threat or crime. Someone’s feelings getting hurt or offended is neither.

Venezuela has joined the UK in calling for a ban on Twitter and Elon being arrested. Because he has single handedly restored global free speech which threatens the commie agenda.

Telegram CEO may never see the light of day again for much the same reason. Ignore the scandalous headlines. He was arrested because he wouldn’t give up user info. That’s it. Period. Full stop again. Fakebook (and others) did and does so to this day. That’s how the cuck Suckerburg can give the big whoopsie apology and nothing happens. All the while getting paid to censor by the government. With our tax dollars of course. And he’s STILL doing it. Trumps assassination pics/videos/stories being the best example. ChatGPT is also still doing it. That only happens if it’s programmed to do it.

Venezuela is in the middle of a commie takeover, after yet another stolen election. X was posting and sharing the corruption and evidence as such because the media is in on everything and won’t do their once trusted job. When Elon wouldn’t shut down X in Venezuela (as they tried to do in a variety of threats) the commies did the next step…outlaw X. Fine it’s users. A fine that would make most Venezuelans go bankrupt or damn near close to it. Elon continues to attempt work arounds with VPN etc but that’s just his fight for free speech against global tyranny. The real story is the communist takeover in Venezuela by a stolen election (again). And hands down the CIA was in the middle of it.

And all this is coming to a once great Republic near you. Very soon. Leading commie Dems are already coming out and saying the same.

In a just world, Reich would be forever banished for making such a statement. But he’s a commie dem connected to the Clinton’s. And in on everything. And he’s just the mouthpiece. The first to “get it out there”. Expect the media and other ass clown pundits to pick up this football and run with it.

Edit: my post above should say “Venezuela AND Brazil” at every opportunity.

Thank god you're also on tumblr, I only used twitter to look at your art but it got banned in Brazil.....

they did WHAT

that sucks ughh fck melon, maybe it will be reversed?

hold on I'll go share my other socials on there for yall 🚶‍♀️

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 4 years ago

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Begrudging Allies (Aaron Hotchner x Trans!Male!Reader)

Summary: Aaron and Y/N's marriage is suitable enough, given that Aaron secretly loves men and Y/N secretly is a man. When the one year anniversary of their amicable nuptials brings forth correspondence from their estranged families, Aaron takes the opportunity to potentially make something more out of their arrangement.

AN: This is one of my entries to the "Enemies 2 Lovers" challenge set by @imagining-in-the-margins on Tumblr!

Reader is trans male and uses he/him pronouns.

WC: 2.4k words

Content Warning: References to era appropriate homophobia/transphobia but nothing actually mentioned. Two dumb fucking gay men trying to flirt.

Photo Credit // Masterlist // AO3

Your name: submit What is this?

Aaron Hotchner and Y/N L/N were served breakfast together every day they were in the house together. They sat not at opposite ends, but the seat left adjacent to them. That way, they did not have to look at each other whilst they ate. Breakfast was the only meal with which they shared each other’s company. Why make it unbearable first thing in the morning? They read the morning paper - and any post - while eating. Only the scrape of their plates and muted chewing was to be heard before the chairs scraped across the floorboards and both men departed.

Today they both received a note from the L/N household back in their old country.

“I assume your letter reads the same as mine,” Y/N dropped his beside his plate before pushing it further away.

Hotchner raised his eye from the headline that had been mildly entertaining him, “It does.”

In cursive flicks, the usual complaints of their emigration had reached his eyes not moments prior. The closing of his family’s letter however broached a new request: a photograph of the happy couple on their first wedding anniversary, specifically a recreation. The ungrateful bunch, the only remaining wedding photographs of the wedding were in their hands.

“I don’t have the dress,” Y/N scoffed and looked aside. Even from this end of the table, Aaron could see that he was trying to mask his tears from the dawn. The wedding day was the culmination of their greatest shames.

At least Aaron had tried to make the best of it, but there was no relief for Y/N until they were in their separate chambers and free from all betrothment attire.

“Suppose we should arrange for a fitting. Though how we’re going to do that without arousing any suspicion here is beyond me.” “Perhaps we can go north, find a seamstress and a wigmaker there.”

Aaron did not patronise Y/N by pretending he understood his plight. He himself had never pictured himself with a wife; worse was that Y/N had never pictured himself to be a wife.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to remain a woman?” He had said after Y/N had confessed during their third arranged rendezvous.

With venom spitting from each syllable, Y/N’s reply was one that he remembered vividly: “I was never a woman to start with.”

They were not friends, they barely spoke, but the enemy of the enemy is a friend. This sentiment made Y/N a begrudging ally.

However it did not make the occasions they had to pretend to be a happily wedded couple any simpler. Y/N did look most becoming in white, but Aaron knew that there was no worse day for Y/N than that day in the church. Any reminder was like a stake through the heart.

“I’ll arrange for the fitting,” Aaron quietly volunteered.

Y/N was quick with a brusque reply, “I can organise my own affairs.”

“Of course, but perhaps it would lighten your load if I took on those responsibilities.” Aaron paused as Y/N pushed aside his breakfast plate, his eggs now making his stomach turn. He used his newspaper as a shield, “And as your husband, I give you permission to dress how you please.”

Y/N blinked then nodded. He did not ever say thank you. That was his problem, Y/N, too proud. Too nervous to admit that he had been graciously allowed to exist like this because of his marriage to Aaron. As if that was ever any part of their agreement, both of them had blackmail worthy material. Y/N just seemed to forget that, or at least he was not the type of individual to dangle Aaron’s secrets before him like a carrot on a stick. Why Y/N thought that Aaron was that type though, he had some idea.

“A member of the bar?” was the response Aaron got from Y/N, disgust thinly veiled, upon their first chaperoned walk through the L/N estate. It must have seemed contradictory later down the line, to be a protector of the laws that criminalised his very own existence. It was not as uncommon as Y/N believed however, and there were much worse laws to break between trials than being attracted to men.

A man of his word, Aaron prepared for a fitting in the comfort of their own home. A friend of theirs was a tailor; accommodations were no economic issue. Of course, this friend did not know either of their secrets, but other than that, he was a companion who would be greeted warmly into their home.

Y/N watched the tailor from the chaise whilst pretending to be interested in a book. His eye would raise itself to see each adjustment made to Aaron’s wedding suit, which he had surprisingly kept – folded in a box at the farthest corner of the house. Then Y/N would go back to the page and reread the top few lines. Every time, Aaron would pretend not to notice. But the jiggle of Y/N’s knee, the absence of progression through the book’s narrative, taught him that Y/N was anticipating this fitting with something more positive than last time.

“All done, thank you, Aaron!” “Y/N, your turn.”

His book snapped shut and Y/N stepped up to the podium. Aaron swapped places with him without acting out the role of an aloof reader. As expected his expression was well disguised as neutral, but Aaron’s practice in law gifted him with a pair of spectacles into the soul. Y/N’s glee of the tape measure taking in his proportions was masked so that only his eyes smiled. Once or twice, the corner of his mouth ticked up, only to iron its creases out when the tailor moved into his eyeline. When asked what colour he would consider, Y/N mulled deliciously his options before selecting a gentle blue. His fingers were cautious but as soon as they touched the royal fabric offered, they fanned out and welcomed it for his new suit.

From the moment they broke apart, his hands were restless. Ticking against his teacup or tapping against his legs were two of their new favourite hobbies. Even when the suit arrived, Y/N could not keep himself still. His beautiful face was scrunched up in the mirror as he attempted for a third time to make the right knot in his cravat. The photographer was waiting for them downstairs.

Aaron sighed and knocked one knuckle to the door, “Allow me.”

Y/N rolled his eyes, “I can do it myself.”

“I know. But this knot will look better.”

Their eyes locked in the mirror, before Y/N turned around and released his tie. His chin pointed parallel to the carpet. His neck was still so as not to drop the breath he was holding. Aaron flicked with the tip of the cravat as his hands slotted it through, his focus on the column of Y/N’s throat, because meeting his gaze now was an impossible feat. They were too close for that. He bent the stalks of his collar into place then stepped back as if to admire his handiwork. But that was not at all what he really regarded.

He cleared his throat, “There.”

As Aaron removed his hands, Y/N spun to face his reflection head on. “Adequate. You’ll have to teach me that one.”

Finally, they greeted their photographer, who had set up his camera in their garden. It was a lovely day, not to be wasted inside. At least that’s what the photographer said as he unceremoniously ushered them into place and posed them to his liking. There was no instruction for how to position their faces so Aaron kept his the same as their original wedding portrait.

His plan for relaxed facial features hit a bump in the road. As the photographer ducked beneath his sheet, Y/N snorted. His hand was quick to follow and it clapped over his mouth. The photographer emerged with concerned curiosity. A strand of his combover was standing on end.

“My apologies, there was a tickle in my throat.” He pressed his lips together and ducked his head, his feet scuffing one inch’s worth of dirt before he regained composure.

The photographer tried again. Aaron could see, in the corner of his eye, that Y/N’s corners of his mouth weighed down to prevent a break but it was unsuccessful.

“Do forgive me,” He said, his voice quivering, “I remembered a jest from last week. It isn’t even worth the laughter it brings.”

Despite his detractions, Y/N kept guffawing to himself as the photographer kept dodging about his cloth and camera. It spilled from between his pressed lips like an overflowing goblet. Aaron had not heard such delight before. He would describe it as infectious if the joy in Y/N’s notes was comparable to a plague. No, this was intoxicating, a mead he would heartily drink until he too was giddy on the stuff. Y/N, clutching Aaron’s arm to stay standing, almost stumbled as Aaron bent over with equally bashful laughter.

“It would possibly suit you better if you sat,” said the photographer through a faux smile. He then ushered over to one of the benches, the one amidst the tulips, before he wrangled with his camera after them.

Seated on the cool marble, Aaron kept a few inches between himself and Y/N. Their hands took that space but waited to hold hands. Y/N was still shaking but his smile was minute now, replaced by mild embarrassment.

“It wasn’t that funny,” He said. But there was a twitch in his voice, a breath that indicated otherwise.

“No, not at all,” whispered Aaron, his head tilted against the invisible line between them.

Y/N turned, his nose pushing their boundary and almost brushing against Aaron’s cheek when he too turned to face him.

“At long last, we agree.”

Y/N’s lips betrayed him again. A bubble of laughter popped between them, letting out the smallest of smiles. Yet it shone through with such luminosity that it almost outdid the flash of the bulb as their photograph was taken. There was delight at the absence of the melancholy pose that a long exposure wedding portrait promised. Oh, the wonders of new technology.

As was with his new suit, Y/N practically waited by the door for the photographs. His hands were beyond ravenous for them by the time they arrived. They snatched at the envelope and tore with as much care as he could muster, his voice catching in the roof of his mouth as he called for Aaron.

On the chaise together, their knees were brought in close to rest the papers upon. Their faces looked as though they were carved into the paper with charcoal, smudged by an artist’s thumb. That radiant smile among it all was the centre of the photograph. Aaron noted the distance between them was mirrored in their past selves as they sifted through their options.

Then Y/N held aloft the ones for their respective families, “Sit with me while I pen the reply.”

Aaron was not usually welcome in Y/N’s study. Yet, as he pulled up a walnut wood chair with red velvet seat beside the bureau, behind Y/N’s matching one, he felt like he was in place. With anticipation, he watched the most passive aggressive comments that had ever been put to paper. All bar one was spun from Y/N’s inspiration. Aaron had but one to add and it took some convincing for Y/N to put it in his family’s correspondence – he was writing since his writing was far neater. Even so, there were a few loops of the ‘l’s that slanted when Y/N was particularly amused by something that Aaron had commented on.

“There,” Y/N said as he closed the second of two envelopes with crimson wax. As he lifted the seal, he spoke quieter, “Just a thought, nothing more, but I almost wish I could see their faces. Only the first second though.” The seal was placed in his drawer and the letters were left in the centre of the desk while one remaining photograph was selected by Y/N, “I want to keep this. In the drawing room.”

Aaron’s eyebrows jumped up his forehead, “You do?”

Y/N nodded once with finality, his broad smile returning, “It’s the first time I was myself in a long time, the best I’ve ever looked! Besides, I am your husband and I say it will stand above the fireplace by the end of the week – once I find a suitable frame.”

He held it up, squinting to imagine what frame might work best with the décor. His chair itching to be closer, Hotch leant over and cupped his hand over Y/N’s so that he could see the photograph too. It stayed there, and perhaps it was his imagination, but Hotchner could have sworn that Y/N’s back slacked and swayed to the right an inch, almost resting against his shoulder beside Aaron’s.

Y/N’s quiet voice was back, “Thank you, Aaron.”

“You do not have to say thank you.”

“When are you going to stop telling me what to do?”

There was no accusation in it; it was asked as simply as one would ask for another napkin. But Aaron did not quite know how to answer.

“I don’t mean to come across as a drill sergeant,” He said softly.

“Aaron,” Y/N lowered their hands but kept them together beside his lap, “You don’t have to worry about me and what I’m going to do, just like I don’t have to worry about you.”

And what Aaron thought about being ignorant of an answer before, that became a lie. Aaron wanted to worry about Y/N, and he did worry. Not for himself or his identity being exposed, but because he did care for his husband. He didn’t want to worry or have Y/N be worried about control in their home. They should exist as equals, not in blackmail but in respect. Maybe one day, in love.

Aaron settled instead for: “My apologies. And I thank you too. It was the first time I was myself as well.”

Y/N blinked, then avoided his stare. It was a revelation therefore when he laced his fingers with Aaron’s for the briefest of squeeze and replied, “No thanks necessary. It was my pleasure.”

Then the bell tinkled for breakfast and the two men were up on their feet. Y/N was in the dining room first. He sat two away from the head of the table this time. With enough care to drag his chair loudly across the floor, Aaron mirrored that seating, dragging his cutlery and crockery into place. As they were served, Y/N swiped the newspaper before his husband could with a smirk hidden behind the pages. Hotchner poured his coffee and smiled into the brew. He was, for once, thoroughly glad that they had breakfast together.

----> ----> ----> ----> ---->

Tagging

Aaron Hotchner fics: @averyhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine #r: male #r: trans male #wc: 2k+#my writing

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mahixa · 4 years ago

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so @maxricciardo messaged me earlier today and maybe possibly probably inspired me to write this cute, fluffy lestappen fic. Listen, she’s great and she deserves to read something nice and comforting about Max after today’s race. And for any of you searching for something sweet and a short fic about the boys being happy together - I hope you will enjoy it as well.

You can read it on ao3 [HERE]

ship: lestappen

word count: 1734

fluff. It’s fluff. Boys kissing. Fluffity fluff. Let there be fluff. Max realises his feelings for Charles and thinks Charles is pretty. We all agree with Max.

The interviewer is someone Max has never seen before during their press conferences. He looks like he could live and survive on drama alone. Beastliness shines dangerously in his eyes and the way he tilts his head before he asks Max the question indicates deviousness.

Max doesn’t like this at all.

“So, Max,” his voice is obnoxious already. “We all know how painfully honest you can be. Let me ask you about Charles Leclerc.”

Something stings Max’s chest. It has been difficult couple of days for Charles, with his bad last racing weekend and a lot of family burden going on right now. The Monegasque, if asked about it, would kindly state that everything is fine and there is nothing to worry about.

But Max knows Charles and he is aware when things become too much for him. And it’s obvious that Charles has his ups and downs. Should anyone be surprised by that? No one. And yet the media keep doing what they do best – they wait for the smallest mistake, the tiniest inconvenience, and they dig deep into the topic. They remind Max of vultures, always ready to find a person during their weak moments and portray such person as the biggest victim possible. A loser. Rend their vulnerable skin and make them bleed for the sake of the headline. Pain them black and white.

For the media everything is zero to one. You either win, or you lose. You drive or you crash. There’s no in between.

And Charles is sitting right next to Max during this press conference, and Max can feel him switching his position uncomfortably as they both hear the begging of question.

“Charles seems to like creating controversy,” the man states the biggest lie Max has heard in a while and dares to continue speaking. “And recently he has been loosing his nerves in the most crucial moments. He is, let’s say, not good under pressure these days. Does it even make him a good driver then?”

Something boils inside Max.

“Does any of it have something to do with the upcoming date of Charles’ father’s death? Should Charles continue to drive during this weekend, or is he a threat to others? Clearly he might be, with his mental condition.”

The conference room goes completely silent.

Max doesn’t take his eyes off of the interviewer. He doesn’t even blink. His gaze must look dangerous enough for everyone to make them to look at him and the man multiple times, anticipating the answer. Max lifts his chin defiantly and squints, and it sends unspoken fulmination all across the room. Someone clears his throat nervously.

“You know,” Max starts, joining his hands together. “I think it takes some fucking audacity to come to this room and say such things about one of the greatest driver of this generation.” Someone gasps in the room and everyone lifts their cameras up. “So you come here, and you have your confidence, and well. You have to be confident, for sure, to ask such dumb questions and state such idiotic statements, clearly not understanding what does it mean to be a normal human in this sport, having better and worse days. So no. Charles is more than the questions about his father, he is more than your silly cheap mind games and neither him, or me, will waste our time on you. And he will drive with us on Sunday. He’s the best person out there when it comes to mental strenght and he doesn’t deserve such crap from the media. So shut up. Next question,” he finishes and points at another man.

His heart is beating incredibly fast and he can hardly hear another question. His mouth is dry, palms sweaty and his legs bouncing nervously.

He does his best to ignore Charles’ stunned look on his face and Lewis’ dropped jaw.

When Max comes back to his hotel room he is exhausted and doesn’t really know why. He has dealt with stupid interviewers on more than one occasion by now, and he thinks he should be able to handle this situation better. Not that he regrets saying what he said.

He just doesn’t know why it caused such him such an emotional response.

Before he can think about it more, there’s a soft knock on the door and there’s only one person who knocks like that.

“Come in, Charles.”

Charles’ smile is small and almost timid, as he enters the room and then looks around. Max smiles to himself, observing a very awkward Charles. As if he wasn’t here yesterday to see the room. And the day before.

“I, eh,” he starts, putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I wanted to say thank you, Max.”

Max doesn’t know how to react to his cheeks which turn bright red.

Charles has always been like that. Like that? So like what? Max thinks, forcing himself to finally understand what he has been feeling for so long, searching in his head for the best word to describe the other man.

Lovely. Charles has always been quite lovely, he admits to himself.

That describes Charles pretty well, actually. And now Max thinks about all those moments they shared together, from the early karting days too. Their fights and arguments when they were children, and Charles coming to check on Max after their races. Bringing him his home-made cookies or lemonade, and thanking Max. Or saying he is sorry. And these confessions were always a bit clumsy, always a bit awkward, but the words were always there. Charles might not always look the most confident during moments like this, but he always is there. Ready to speak and be tender when other people hide themselves and run away from confrontation. Charles is ready to say the things Max is often unable to.

Today’s press conference was different, though. It was the first time Max said so many things about Charles. In a room full of people, on top of that – people who were paying attention to his every word. Wasn’t that rather stupid, to go off like that? But that question has to be one of the dumbest and most arrogant he has heard in a long while. And it was about Charles.

No one should ever talk about Charles like that.

Not about Charles. How dare they? Have they ever seen the way he drives? The way he trains? How he can stay under pressure? The way he achieves his goals and keeps his cool even in the most stressful moments?

Have they seen the way Charles smiles? The way he rolls his eyes when he sees something silly or the way he wrinkles his nose when he laughs, but truly, truly laughs? Have they seen the way Charles can’t cook or dance, but he likes to do these things and it makes it even more enjoyable to observe him?

And what about the way Charles sleeps, with his lips slightly parted and his strong chest moving up and down? Or the way he gets excited over the stupidest TV programs Max doesn’t understand, but doesn’t mind when Charles asks him to watch them together, already too fascinated by the way Charles comments on things? And the way he plays the piano. The way he chooses songs and hums to himself when he plays.

The way he sneezes and then apologizes for it. The way Charles can assemble furniture from IKEA, and refuse to use any instruction, but somehow his chaotic energy helps him manage? And Max knows how it looks like.

Because Charles helped him with his furnitures.

Charles has always been there. When Max was sick and didn’t want to take any pills, Charles was there. Brining him his mum’s soup and talking how much he likes the fact that they both live in Monaco now. And when Max got completely wasted in one of those bars they like to go to, it was Charles who helped him get clean from all the unpleasant post-party aspects of the night. And he didn’t complain. He didn’t make a sound. He took off Max’s clothes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, and helped him shower. He made sure Max made it to bed and he placed a glass of water on his bedside table.

Charles was there when Max won his most important races and he was there to celebrate it with him. He was there when Max argued with his father and when it all looked like a lost cause. He was there to rub soothing circles on Max’s back with his gentle hand and embrace him with his soft voice.

And he always says “thank you” and “I’m sorry” when other people could never do it, for different reasons. Charles has always been brave and able to rise above others. Be a bigger person.

Charles is kind and lovely.

And so damn handsome.

It all makes Max’s head dizzy. The realisation of his feelings washes over him and he has to grab the chair not to stumble. What now?

Charles looks beautiful in his blue hoodie, messy hair and his confused smile. He looks way too soft to remain reasonable or sensible about this.

“Those things you said during the press conference, did you mean them?” he asks, finally breaking the silence between them.

Max nods, coming closer to Charles who doesn’t move away. His eyes are focused on Max’s and he licks his lips.

“I meant every word,” Max says, his voice becoming almost a whisper, as he moves even closer and cups Charles’ face with his hand. “Jesus, Charles.”

Charles closes his eyes at the contact and breathes in through his nose. He looks stunning and Max is mesmerised.

“Kiss me,” Charles whispers, not opening his eyes. “Please.”

Max feels like melting. He slowly cups Charles’ face with both his hands.

“Look at me,” Max whispers back, and when Charles opens his eyes slightly, Max places a kiss on Charles’ forehead.

Then on his cheek. And then the other.

And then they kiss. They kiss and kiss and kiss, Charles’ arms around Max’s shoulders and Max’s hands on Charles’ waist. It’s the softest thing to kiss Charles, his lips eager and opened and lovely, lovely, so, so lovely, and warm.

Max moves them around the room so Charles can fall on the bed, and as soon as he does, Max climbs on top of him. The way Charles’ reaches out for him, the way he holds him closer, kissing him harder and deeper – that definitely goes on top of “the different ways of Charles Leclerc” list Max has made.

And Charles is beautiful under his touch, and he glows like a golden, Autumn sun, and he sounds like the softest, warm melody.

“I meant every word,” Max says between kisses and touches, between moans and sighs. “Every word.”

#lestappen #max verstappen #charles leclerc #fic #f1 fic #enjoy!!#my fic

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supersexyactioncomics · 2 years ago

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We need to wind back the wizard clock, no more precocious lil magic babies... wizards are weird old bastards with power over reality itself who've grown so entitled to the world bending to there whim that they, without fail, end up either trying to conquer the world or become immortal at the cost of others. Everyone assumes they are super geniuses just because they mastered one weird domain of knowledge and their followers are lapdogs and bootlickers who think that cause this dude has a tower and can read that makes him a good candidate for god-king. Wizards are tech bros, there politicians, they're the rich stem kid who thinks he's better than everyone else because he's a misanthrope. "Are there good wizards?" is a question as laughable as "are there good billionaires?" some are better than others sure but any wizard who was actually decent would have long since ceased being a wizard. I'm saying it's time to re-conan the genre. There is a criminal critique of the "blood and thunder" subgenre of fantasy that says that because wizards are smarty pants and conan is a big dumb dumb that "wizards evil" is an anti-intellectual position. But fuck that, we live in a world ruled by people like elon musk and jeff bezos and bill gates and mark zuckerberg. "Guy with higher education who looks smart" is both not an actual signifier of any real cleverness and even if it was when did we decide that being "intelligent" makes you so much better than everyone else that you can rule the world and everyone who isn't "intelligent" should just shut the fuck up and lick their boots.

Conan isn't a fool, he just doesn't have the trappings of higher education and is a little blunt and to the point. A generation of privileged nerds read Conan and thought "I can't relate to this physically strong rural yokel with a background of suffering and tragedy but I do relate to the privileged nerd who uses esoteric knowledge to secure wealth and power beyond anyone's wildest imagination and then proceeds to vindictively and misanthropicly wield that power over a world he thinks he's better than. Wouldn't it be better if the smart people were in charge and no Conan's came to kill them and steal there treasure?" And now we have a media atmosphere of Harry Potters. Where the superhero headlining marvel for the longest time was Iron Man (not a wizard but a rich smart guy who leverages that wealth and intelligence into inventions that may as well be magic). Midichlorians went from an embarrassing mistake in Star Wars lore to something nerds will cite defensively as they vigorously defend the idea that the force is a congenital superpower and not a spiritual practice.

All our heroes are intrinsically, essentially better than us. There not meant to be achievable, you aren't supposed to make the world a better place- your job is to lick elon's boots and watch as he "saves the world", you worthless peasant. Heck Conan himself often gets flanderized from "a strong, willful, opportunist who seizes every advantage he can get" to "the strongest man ever".

Conan knows exactly what needs to be done to nerdy old dudes with a false sense of superiority. Conan isn't trying to save the world but he'll do it by accident because it turns out contempt for magic is exactly what the world needs.

To quote the only good line from an otherwise awful movie "You know what? Fuck magic"

“what if people were racist towards wizards?” asks Hollywood for the nth time.

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thewebcomicsreview · 4 years ago

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The Promotion

For the first time in the five years, the Burnmax Deadly Acid Factory whirred to life. After OSHA found out that none of the catwalks over the coverless vats of acid had guard rails, the factory had been shut down so fast they never even drained the tanks, which still burbled threateningly. Murderize wasn't sure if it was actually still dangerous. It made sense to him that Deadly Acid left out in the open would turn bad, like milk, but if the new boss wanted the mayor's daughter slowly lowered into a vat of acid, he wasn't going to say no to a paycheck. Times had been tough for henchmen ever since the new crew of masks hit town. His old crew, Mutilate and Comeuppance, were stuck in the Asylum now, and he was lucky to get a C-list criminal like Doctor Funkenstein to work for, even if the pay was worse and the bell-bottoms looked dumb and the free-love orgies had to be cancelled because there weren't any girls. Still beat working for Catboy.

The mayor's daughter, Barbara Whatsherface, was doing a good job of being tied up and screaming, though. Sometimes you'd kidnap a woman and she'd just cry or something and sticking her in a deathtrap got awkward. Non-consensual actors rarely stuck to their roles, not that Muderize cared, but the bosses always got mad when it happened. God forbid a big dramatic crime have victims who didn't resist being murdered in a fun way. "MMMMM! MMMMM!" screamed the mayor's daughter through her gag. It was real convincing, which was one of the advantages of using real victims and actually trying to kill them.

Doctor Funkenstein flipped the switch. "It's Alive! Alive! But soon, my dear, you won't be!" he said, which was a bit weak. He was clearly more committed to the "Funk" than the "enstein" of his gimmick. A tall lanky man in a purple suit and labcoat with a large disco ball for a head, Funkenstein was kind of a terrible boss to work with. Not deadly enough to be thrilling, not funny enough to be a good time, not quite thematically cohesive enough to get the good headlines. He'd been working on this rebrand for weeks, and hoped it would get him the success so many had expected of him two years ago. Murderize was unconvinced, but he wasn't paid to think. The mayor's daughter was halfway down. Murderize flicked his cigarette into an acid vat and unbuttoned his shirt. If the good guys wanted to save dear sweet Brenda or whatever, they were running out of time. Sometimes you actually got away with crimes and then you got to go home early.

CRASH!

Glass rained down from the broken skylight as the Wonder Five dropped in to save the day. Damn it.

Wonder Red landed on the catwalk before him. The founder and the leader of the group, he was still a dork in his red spandex onesie and motorcycle helmet. Wonder Red had hoped the other Wondernauts would change their names to be Wonder Blue and the like, but none of them did, and he just looked like a cosplayer who wandered into an actual superteam by mistake.

"Disco is dead, Doctor Funkenstein", said Wonder Red, "And so are your plans for world domination!"

"You're the one who's dead, Dunder Red", shouted Doctor Funkenstein, "For you've walked straight into my Saturday Night Deathtrap!". He leaned back, and lasers spewed in all directions from his disco ball head.

Muderize let the leaders have their fun. With hero teams as with villains, the henchmen were the ones doing the real work. Already Snakes flew into the mayors daughter, cutting the ropes with his teeth and he carried her off to safety. When Already Snakes flew off with your girl, you were never getting her back, so Muderize fired his Disco Gun (which was just a glock with glitter on it) at Animal Cracker, who cracked some birds into existence in the path of the bullets.

The birds disappeared in a puff of smoke, which hid Animal Cracker, but Murderize had fought these guys enough times to know AC liked to land an elephant on people, and ran out of the way. The elephant slammed into the ground, broke its legs, and poofed out of existence. AC dropped gracefully to the ground, and threw up a Gorilla Shield fast enough to block the second and third bullets Murderize fired, but not the first one, which grazed his arm. As the gorilla poofed, AC jumped behind a one of the acid vats. Shooting a giant vat of acid was a rookie move, so Murderize took cover himself. The two women members of the Wonder Five were busy with the other henches. Pink Moon had managed to pick out the rookies and was doing the "Oh no, I'm a poor defenseless girl what will I do" act, which every henchman fell for the first time. The smarter henches were left to Sorcera.

Murderize suddenly realized that a whole entire hero was dedicated to fighting just him. He tried not to get emotional about it, but if the Wonder Five had elevated him in their minds from henchman to miniboss, that could open up all kinds of career opportunities for him, especially having scored a wound.

Of course, scoring a kill, even against Animal Cracker, would do even more. He shook himself a little to get his head back in the game. AC had been hiding behind that vat for too long. He was up to something.

He barely had time to finish thinking before a murder of crows shot out from both sides of the barrel. He knew that Animal Cracker's animals got weaker the more of them he summoned, and that just the sound of a gunshot would be enough to dispel them. This was a distraction, AC wanted him to fire wildly at the birds from a distance. He was too smart for that. He waited for the birds to get close before firing, and made sure to aim his gun away from the acid tank while keeping an eye on it to make sure Animal Cracker didn't bail. Bang. One shot, and all the birds poofed into a big cloud.

A big cloud directly on top of him, obscuring his vision. Shit. He coughed, and tried to see which way the inevitable charging rhino would come from so he could dodge it. He didn't see it. He felt it, though. Hurt just as bad as the last time he got Rhino'd. He flew into a piece of machinery, and collapsed to the ground in pain. He blindly groped for his gun, but the only thing he felt was Animal Cracker slapping the cuffs on.

"I tagged you, though", said Murderize, as AC finished handcuffing him. AC said nothing, but there was no denying the nasty gash on his shoulder. "Gotta report that".

Animal Cracker sighed. "Yeah, yeah". Above them, the music stopped. Seemed like Doctor Funkenstein's Dancing Queen's Gambit had failed. He's barely lasted longer in a fight than Murderize himself did, even if it was against the star.

"You gotta tell 'em. Come on! You gotta tell 'em Murderize tagged you!"

"I'm not your PR guy, man"

"Come on, make me look cool and it'll make you look cooler for beating me. We both win!"

"You know how you could really win? By giving up a life of crime"

"Bro. C'mon. Bro".

There was a long pause. Socera broke it, swooping down with six experienced henchmen tied up behind her in magical ropes. Pink Moon was with her, carrying eight rookies in a net. "Yo, AC. You only got one?", Sorcera said, smirking.

Animal Cracker looked at Murderize for a moment, then at Pink Moon, before turning to Sorcera. "This isn't just a henchman, Sorcera. This is Murderize. He's.....he's a mini-boss". He pointed at the gash in his arm "Tagged me and everything"

Murderize looked down at the ground, trying not to let Sorcera see him smile

#My Writing #Short Story #Wonder Five #I wrote this in one hour on the discord just to get something creative done

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spareseratoninplz · 4 years ago

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More Than Pain Bakugo x Y/N reader insert Ch. 2

“Miss…? Excuse me, miss…?” I was gently shaken awake by a hand, and when I woke up a friendly looking gentleman was smiling down at me.

“You’re miss (L/N), right?” He asked, and I nodded.

“Yes… how is my mother?” I asked, my brow immediately furrowing. He placed a hand on my shoulder to keep me from getting up, and took a seat across from me after pulling up a chair to sit on.

“Your mother is in stable condition… her case however… well, it’s uncertain.” He said, and my heart dropped.

“Case…? Uncertain…?” I echoed, and he cleared his throat.

“Your mother had a very serious seizure. Her brain was deprived of oxygen for too long, and this has caused her to slip into a coma. As I said, she’s in stable condition, but if she’s going to have any sort of chance of recovery, we’ll need to perform surgery…” He said the last few words very carefully, and I swallowed a lump in my throat.

“H-How much…?” I asked, and he hesitated before sighing deeply.

“54,200,000 ¥…*” The doctor spoke, and I felt my mouth go dry.

“Your mother’s insurance will pay for her accommodations here at the hospital until the money for surgery can be raised… with any luck, then surgery won’t be necessary. And she’ll simply wake up. Still, there’s the topic of muscle atrophy, and getting her the physical and psychological therapy to recuperate afterwards…” His voice faded out as my brain grew numb with the same question. How in the world am I supposed to raise that much money? As a middle school student I’m not allowed to have any sort of part time job. Not only that, but how was I supposed to pay for rent, power, water, and food when I had absolutely no income whatsoever?

“Miss (L/N)?” The doctor called out my name, and I snapped out of my stupor.

“Did you hear what I said?” He asked, and after a moment of hesitation, he realized I hadn’t.

“There is a program- a temporary service if you will- one that will place you in the care of a foster home… at least for the time being.” I nodded quietly, not really knowing what else to say.

“Come with me and I’ll introduce you to the program’s coordinator.” He ushered me along, and I followed blindly, my eyes growing heavy with exhaustion.

*One day later*

“Here we are! Oh, you are absolutely going to love this couple!” The coordinator opened the door for me to step out with nothing but my backpack on.

“Oh dear… are you certain that’s all you wanted to bring?” She asked.

“I don’t plan on being here for very long.” I said, walking passed her towards the front door. She followed me quickly, and rang the doorbell as I examined the outside structure of the house. It was rounded at the top with a subtle but elegant grey stone layout. The windows were large and somewhat tinted to reflect the incoming sunlight, and I couldn't help but think how clever that was of the designer to come up with. My attention was grabbed when the front door slowly opened to reveal a tall, muscular man with spiky brown hair, glasses, and the slightest hint of a mustache.

“Oh? Hey, you must be (F/N)! Mitsuki, she’s here!” He called behind him, and I could hear the sound of fast footsteps as she made her way to the front door, and nearly knocked the man over in the process.

“Who is it Masaru? Did you say (F/N)?” She asked. She poked her head out, and my eyes immediately focused on two distinctive features, her eyes and hair.

“(F/N)! It’s so good to meet you!” She exclaimed. Before I knew what was happening, she’d already pulled me inside.

“Katsuki! Come meet our guest!” She called out, and the moment she shouted that name, my blood ran cold.

“GO TO HELL!!!” He shouted back in response. Mitsuki only smiled at me briefly as the tension settled in the air. After a moment she turned to me with the same smile on her face.

“Wait right here dear, I’ll be right back.” She spoke softly and gracefully ascended the stairs to what I could only assume was Katsuki’s room. There were a few light knocks on the door before it sounded like the ceiling was falling in.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO YOUR MOTHER LIKE THAT YOU LITTLE SHIT!” She screamed. She then proceeded to drag Bakugou down the stairs by his ear, much to his protest, and tossed him onto the floor in front of us. My eyes locked onto a coat rack in the corner near the door, and I didn’t dare tear my eyes away for a moment. He stood to his feet and swung around as though he were going to strike his own mother, but instead she smacked the back of his head, and he fell to his knees right in front of me. I jumped back, and accidentally met his eyes. If looks could kill, I’d already be dead.

“(F/N) Is going to be staying here for a little while, and I want you to be the one to show her to her room.” Mitsuki ordered, and Katsuki simply glared at me before sliding his hands into his pockets and walking back towards the stairs.

“You comin’ or not?!” He demanded, looking at me sideways as though I were supposed to read his mind. I glared back, unimpressed before following behind him up the stairs.

We took an immediate right, and he placed his foot against a door before roughly kicking it open and stepping inside. I followed him in, and took a look around. Everything was so neat, tidy, and fresh smelling. They had even changed the bed linens and had a fluffy black bathrobe neatly folded on the bed along with a set of clothes. What was this place? A hotel? “What the fuck are you doing here?” He demanded, and I glanced at him over my shoulder.

“Your parents didn’t tell you what’s going on?” I asked, and he scoffed.

“All they said was we’d have a guest for a couple months. They never said anything about it being some dumb bitch.” He said, expecting to get a rise out of me, but I remained quiet.

“I’ll stay out of your way.” I said, giving him a cold look that he seemed taken aback by.

“The hell’s your problem?” He asked, and I exhaled slowly through my nose before neatly placing my backpack on the back of a nearby chair.

“Why? So you can degrade me on that too?” I asked, my tone just as cold as my icy glare. For once he had nothing to say as he stood there with the same angry look on his face.

“I get that you don’t like me, and I’ll stay out of your way while I’m here, so, just go do… whatever.” I said, my tone bland as I turned to start unpacking things from my bag. After a moment of silence I assumed he had just left, so when I heard the shuffling of feet, and suddenly found myself pinned up against the desk as his hands gripped the edges at my hips, trapping me in place. His body and face were both very close to mine, and radiating heat that I didn’t know could be generated from a human body.

“Listen here you, don’t come into my fucking house thinking you’re better than me just because you have some stupid-ass quirk, you got it?” He hissed, and my brow furrowed.

“What did I say to insinuate that I think I’m better than you?” I asked, pressing my hand against his chest to move him away, but he quickly caught my hand and gripped it tightly, maybe even painfully if pain was something I could feel.

“What was that shit you pulled the other day in the hallway, huh?” He asked.

“Let go of me.” I hissed, and he smirked in an almost challenging way.

“Make me.” He growled. I felt something swelling up within me. This anger that I wasn’t at all familiar with coupled with something else. I felt my body begin to shake, and I forcibly grabbed his wrist with the hand that he was holding me, and his eyes widened for a split moment before I flipped him onto his back. He grunted as I stood up and moved away from him, looking down at my own two hands as though they weren’t mine.

“Shit…” Bakugou cursed under his breath before sitting up, and rubbing at the back of his head. He shot me a bewildered look before standing straight up and marching over to me. He looked me over expectantly before clicking his tongue, and heading for the door. He froze just before walking through, and glanced back at me over his shoulder.

“Bathroom’s down the hall on the left… dinner’s at 5:30… and don’t touch any of my shit!” He spat before shutting the door behind him roughly. I sighed before shaking my head, and pulling my laptop from my bag. I settled in on the bed, and began surfing the web in hopes of winding down, and ignoring what had just happened with my quirk. I had never been able to use it that way before… then again, no one has ever made me feel so frustrated before either.

“Hm?” I hummed in thought as my eyes caught a glimpse of a flashy headliner. I clicked on the link as the webpage opened completely.

“UA RECOMMENDATION EXAM REPORTED TO BE REWARDING HIGHEST RANKING ENTRANT 55,300,000!”

All I could do was stare at the screen with my mouth hanging open, unable to think or speak.

It seemed all too easy, enter the exam, pass with the highest score, and win the money that I would need to get mom the surgery she needed… an additional 1,152,320¥ never hurts either… I quickly began looking up anything and everything that I could about this exam, and found out quite a bit about it relatively quickly.

“Let’s see… consists of a written exam, practical exam, and an… interview…? Alright, no problem, but… what would I do about references? That would be the main thing I need, right?” I mumbled to myself and groaned before flopping backwards onto the bed.

I can’t believe I’m even playing with thoughts like these. To think I’d even stand a chance against anyone who’s recommended to UA? It may seem like easy money, but now that I think about it, there’s no way it would be that easy. There was suddenly a gentle knock at the door, and I quickly stood from the bed to answer it.

“Mrs. Bakugou, I’m sorry was I being too loud?” I asked, and she chuckled before waving me off, and shooting me a smile.

“Not at all dear! I just came up to check and see how you were getting settled.’ She said, and I nodded before giving her a thankful smile.

“Oh yes, I’m fine. You have a beautiful home.” I said, and she smiled even brighter.

“Aren’t you the sweetest, thank you!” She giggled before banging her fist once against the door directly behind her before shouting.

“YOU HEAR THAT, KID?! WHY CAN’T YOU BE SWEET LIKE HER?!” Mrs. Bakugou shouted.

“WOULD YOU SHUT IT, YOU OLD HAG?! I’M TRYIN’ TO STUDY!” Bakugou shouted back. So, his room was directly across from mine…? Good to know. I thought sarcastically.

“WHY YOU-” I cut her off before she had a chance to shout again. She looked as though she were about to break down his door.

“Bakugou is actually a pretty nice guy at school!” I blurted out before I could think. She froze, and turned to me with a skeptical look.

“That’s not what I’ve heard…” She said, her brow furrowing.

“What? No, really. He helped me to find my locker and the cafeteria on my first day of school, and he’s always willing to help out when I need a partner during study period.” I said. It wasn’t a complete lie. He had helped me find my locker and the cafeteria on the first day… he just wasn’t super polite about it. As for the study partner thing, really we had just been paired up together by the teacher, and did our own work silently.

“He may seem a little harsh at first, but Bakugou is someone who is really very dedicated to his goal of becoming a pro hero. I admire him for not being afraid to speak his mind about things… it’s a quality I wish I had.” I admitted, and I suddenly found myself wondering why I was suddenly singing Bakugou’s praises when I didn’t really know two things about the guy.

“You’re too sweet, (F/N)... by the way, you’re welcome to call me Mitsuki.” She offered, and I nodded politely. She turned towards Bakugou’s door again, and lifted her hand ready to bang on it once more, but after a moment her body seemed to relax as though she had second thoughts, and she lightly knocked instead.

“Supper will be ready in about an hour, hon.” She said gently. After a moment of silence, Bakugou responded. “Whatever…” His voice sounded tired almost, but it held no anger. Mitsuki smiled gently before giving me a small nod, and heading downstairs. Somehow I felt good about what I did, and turned to return to my room, only to be met by the sound of Bakugou’s door creaking open.

“So what’s your deal, huh?” He asked. I looked up to see him leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, and a bored expression on his face. I shrugged before resting my elbow against the doorframe, and pushing my hair back out of my eyes.

“I don’t know… I guess maybe you just don’t hear it as much as you should.” I said. His eyes lowered to the floor as though he were considering something.

“Hear what?” He asked. I swallowed hard, knowing what it was I was wanting to say, but I wasn’t sure how he would react.

“You’re a good guy, Bakugou… and I know you’ve built this reputation as the school’s hot head or whatever, but… I can tell by how hard you work that you truly do want to be a hero… and I don’t think you’d want to be a hero if you didn’t like people.” I said, and he remained silent, now resting his head against the door frame, and looking off down the hall.

“You’re so full of shit.” He spat, somewhat taking me by surprise, but I didn’t let it show.

“The other day, you were telling me to ‘grow up’... saying shit like ‘you’re not very heroic’- such bullshit.” He hissed, and for some reason an unfamiliar sensation hit me directly in the center of my chest before spreading to the rest of my body.

‘Is this… pain…?’ I thought to myself. Without realizing, my hand had come up and grabbed my shirt directly over my chest. My breathing began to increase, and my skin began to feel warm and flush.

“What is it? Just now realizing I’ve called you out on your bullshit?” He asked, crossing his arms again and smirking in an unnerving way.

“What? No, that’s not-” My breathing only increased, but it felt like all the air in my lungs had left me. I felt my eyes begin to burn as tears began to slide down my cheeks uncontrollably.

“Wh- hey. What’s wrong with you?” He asked, and I felt my body begin to shake as sobs began to rack my body.

“Shit, hey-” He kneeled beside me, and I hid my face from him. I’d never felt this way before in my life. As though someone had lit a fire at the center of my chest, but the rest of my body remained cold as Ice. How is it even possible to be freezing, and yet sweat at the same time?

“Calm your breathing and relax.” He said, his voice lower, and I felt him rest his hand on my back awkwardly, not knowingly exactly where to put it. After a moment I seemed to calm down, but I was still in shock at what had just happened.

“Wh-what… what was that…?” I mumbled to myself.

“You just had a fucking panic attack.” Bakugou said, now sitting on the floor next to me, and resting his head back against the wall. I could feel him watching me carefully, and after a moment he sighed.

“Look I… I’m sorry. Okay? I didn’t think sayin’ that would… cause a panic attack alright? I always thought you didn’t have emotions.” He said.

“I… I usually don’t feel anything. Pain, anger, fear, sadness… I can absorb it back into my body, channel it and use the energy to heal myself or others…” I said, and suddenly realized I hadn’t ever really explained how my quirk worked before.

“So that’s what happened the other day? You didn’t block my attack, you absorbed it?” He asked, and I nodded.

“And that’s how you healed yourself?” He asked, and again I nodded.

“Yes… the stronger the quirk, the faster I heal.” I said, and he just stared ahead at the wall.

“Well… it’s not the shittiest quirk I’ve ever heard of.” He said, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. We sat in silence for a bit longer before I spoke again.

“I need to get into UA on recommendation.” I said, and his entire body stiffened.

“WH- THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY?!” He demanded, and I sighed.

“It’s not what you think okay, so don’t blow a fuse.” I said. I passed him my phone with the headline on it, and his eyes quickly skimmed over it.

“Yeah, I heard about that… so then what’s the deal? I thought you weren’t tryin’ to be a hero.” He said, and I ignored the fact that he knew that about me, and took my phone back from him.

“I… I just need the money, alright?” I admitted. I pulled my knees to my chest before resting my arms on top, and then my chin.

“What do you need with a shit-ton of cash like that?” He asked, and I laughed humorlessly. He didn’t respond after a moment of silence, so I sighed, and felt my brow furrow.

“Katsuki, (F/N) dinner’s ready!” Mitsuki called.

“HOLD YOUR HORSES WE’RE COMIN’!” Bakugou shouted back, but I was already standing.

“We should go eat. School in the morning.” I said, and he looked up at me with a stoic expression before standing himself and walking towards the stairs. I walked past him at the top of the stairs, and he grabbed my arm to stop me before I could continue.

“We’re not done yet.” He said, holding my gaze for several moments before turning away, and descending the stairs. I lightly brushed my fingers across my arm where he’d grabbed me, and felt an odd tingling sensation where his hand had been.

“I’m losing my mind…” I mumbled to myself before descending the stairs, and stepping into the dining room.

“Here you go (F/N) I’ve saved you a spot right next to Katsuki.” Mr. Bakugou said whilst drying his hands on a kitchen towel as Mrs. Bakugou finished placing the final plate of food on the table. I nodded silently before taking the seat I had been offered.

“The coordinator gave us a list with some of your favorites, so I made you some kakitama jiru!*” She exclaimed, very pleased with herself.

“It looks great, thank you Mrs. Bakugou.” I said, smiling kindly as I spooned it into a bowl along with some crispy noodles and a spoonful of green onions on top. The aroma was intoxicating, and I felt myself relax somewhat at the familiar smell.

“Would you like some Beef?” Mr. Bakugou offered, holding the plate out to me. I nodded before plucking a few pieces out, and placing them neatly on my plate before adding some steamed veggies and rice. Everything looked and smelled amazing. I couldn’t recall eating in the last few days, so this was more than welcomed.

“Have you had any news on your mother?” Mrs. Bakugou asked, and I felt the color immediately drain from my face. Any appetite I previously had was gone now. I lowered my chopsticks from my mouth before I could take a bite of food, and felt my hand shake slightly.

“Oh… uh… no ma’am. Nothing yet.” I said plainly, hoping she would just drop it.

“Oh… well, I’m very sorry to hear about what happened. We really hope she gets out of the hospital soon.” She said, and I felt my eyes drop to the table, suddenly intently focused on the pattern of the tablecloth, and nothing else. I wanted everything to fade away, and be silent. I wanted to be by myself where no one could see me like this because it was all new to me as well.

“Um… th-thanks…” I silently cursed myself for stuttering. They probably couldn’t tell I was uncomfortable since my body language wasn’t showing it. Would it be disrespectful to tell them that I was uncomfortable?

“Hey, we’re gonna eat upstairs.” Katsuki spoke up suddenly, his voice breaking through the haze of my hectic thought process.

“Huh? But you’ve already sat down.” Mrs. Bakugo said, dejected.

“I’ve been havin’ some trouble with English lately… she said she’d tutor me, so…” He lied, but I kept my mouth shut. Mrs. Bakugou looked utterly dumbfounded, but quickly smiled.

“Oh, of course!” She said gleefully. Katsuki grabbed his bowl, and I grabbed mine. I said my goodbyes as we ascended the stairs once more, and he all but forced me into my room. I placed the bowl down, and took a few deep breaths.

“Shit…” I mumbled to myself once my breath had come back.

“What’s going on with you? Why do you keep freaking out?” Bakugou scoffed, and I swallowed hard.

“Look, I’m not used to feeling emotions like this, okay?” I said, a bit more anger behind my tone than I had probably intended.

“Turn your shitty quirk back on then…” He said, as though it were the easiest thing.

“I… I can’t… I don’t know why but for some reason, I can’t.” I said, and he lifted an eyebrow.

“What you said before… when you said I’m ‘full of shit’... I don’t know how, or why, but for some reason or other, it caused my quirk to dissipate. That’s why I freaked out.” I said.

“So… you turn off your quirk, and you have a panic attack, or what the hell?” He asked, and I shook my head.

“No, no… look, I’ve had my emotions shut off since I was a child… sometimes they slip out, but I’ve always been able to keep them under control until a little while ago. At that time, I dunno…” I trailed off, taking a few breaths before continuing.

“I guess all the emotions that I’ve been holding back hit me at once.” I concluded, and Bakugou continued to sit there in silence.

“Why turn them off?” He asked, and the question caught me off guard.

“What?” I asked.

“Your emotions. Why turn them off?” He asked again, slightly annoyed this time at having to repeat himself.

“Oh… I dunno. It just seemed easier I guess.” I answered honestly. After a moment Katsuki stood with his bowl in hand, and headed for the door.

“Whatever… I’m goin’ back to my room.” He said, and something made me ask. “Bakugou…?” I called out, and he stopped to turn and look back at me.

“How did you know I was having a panic attack… I mean- how did you know how to handle it?” I asked, and his eyes widened momentarily before his brow creased in its usual pissed off manner.

“What the hell kinda question is that, dumbass!” He huffed before throwing the door open and storming out before shutting it behind him. I blinked a few times before sighing and shaking my head. I’ll never understand how this guy’s brain works… but maybe that’s for the best. I sat at the desk with the bowl of soup in front of me, and sighed as I picked at it with my chopsticks. The noodles were mush at this point, and the broth was surely cold. I pushed the bowl away, and stepped towards the bed. After moving my laptop and the clothes aside, I curled myself up on the comforter with my head resting against the plush pillow, and felt my eyelids growing heavier by the second. After a few deep breaths, I felt my body relax into the mattress, and sleep finally found me.

#bnha #bakugou katsuki #reader insert #bakugou x y/n #izuku midoriya

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

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Silent Treatment

A drabble not for @lokislastlove

Warning: some arguing, nonconsent sex, threats of violence, biting.

It was almost amusing how long it took him to catch on.

Certainly, Thor had noticed that you were avoiding him, that the bulk of your time in Asgard had been spent with his brother rather than him. You knew it would bother him. Eventually. And you hoped he felt the same way you did.

Was it silly to feel so hurt? Well, how else should you feel. The two-minute video sent you into a tailspin of anger but you’d already arrived and you weren’t quite sure what to say. So you said nothing. You graced Thor with a shrug or the occasional nod but you just couldn’t give much more.

You wouldn’t be so embarrassed if you hadn’t been sent the clip personally. Several friends made you aware of his little flirtation which was now being broadcast everywhere. Headlines called the God of Thunder ‘sweet’ and ‘cute’. You just thought he was ridiculous.

It made you wonder if for the last year he’d just been telling you what you wanted to like he had that girl. Sure, it was just an interview and tried to convince yourself he was merely playing the PR game but why had he kissed her hand like that? Why had he called her ‘sweetheart’?

Sooner or later you would have to say something. Anything. But for now, you were going to let Thor think you would rather listen to Loki expound on how he tricked his own brother into a cave full of giant bats. The idea of a young prince being so easily deceived was amusing, but when it was revealed it had been well beyond Thor’s childhood, it was almost pitiful.

You walked with Loki through the halls, passing the tall pillars, and admiring the extravagant portraits of the Asgardian elite. On earth, no one lived like that anymore. It was more selfies and those dumb wall signs that read ‘live, laugh, love’.

Then you saw the shadow. You had thought you’d spotted him before but weren’t entirely sure. Loki’s green eyes flicked behind you and his little smirk betrayed his own awareness. Thor was attempting to eavesdrop but wasn’t very stealthy.

The dark-haired prince stopped you by a portrait of a mystical creature which resembled an elephant but had porcelain like skin.

“My father saw the last of these beasts,” Loki said as he gestured to the painting. “I always thought it a tragedy. So regal. But they weren’t anything you could tame. Not like...” He glanced towards the far end of the corridor and touched your shoulder. “Some.”

You realised what he was doing. For as conspicious as Thor was, you were just as bad. Surely Loki knew why you insisted on his presence but he didn’t mind being a tool if it was against his brother.

He leaned in and lowered his voice so only you could hear.

“Whatever he did, he probably deserves this,” Loki winked and kissed your cheek.

“Loki!” Thor’s voice boomed around the stone columns and his boots echoed at his advance. “Away from her!”

Loki stood straight but stayed close to you as Thor stormed towards him. You stepped between them and stopped Thor from accosting his brother. He reached past you but you caught his arm.

“Thor,” You said calmly. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I saw what he was doing!” Thor snarled.

“You were spying on us?” You asked.

“He kissed you!” Thor snapped.

“On the cheek. It was only friendly.” You insisted. “You think I would betray you?”

“I don’t know what you would you do, you’ve not talked to me since your arrival.” Thor retorted.

“Do not worry about her, brother, worry about me,” Loki taunted.

You held back a laugh as Thor’s face contorted with anger and Loki smoothly dodged another grab as you lost hold of his arm.

“Thor,” You pulled him back by his hand. “Let him go.”

“Yes, brother, you should attend to your affairs before mine,” Loki teased. “Or yours shall become mine.”

“Enough,” You warned Loki and he smirked.

He turned and strode away as Thor fumed next to you. When he was gone, you looked to the blond Asgardian and shook your head.

“What is this about?” He asked. “Why do you spurn me? I thought we--”

“I thought we were good too, Thor,” You interjected. “And then I see you hanging off some woman in Times Square.”

“I--” His eyes searched. “It was only an interview. I was having fun.”

“It wasn’t fun for me to see. Did you ever think of that?”

“I didn’t think it was that serious,” He shrugged.

“And all this time I was ignoring you, you never asked me what was wrong.” You said.

“I suppose I didn’t, but you also didn’t tell me.” He returned.

“Don’t do that,” You huffed. “Don’t you think that was inappropriate?”

“It wasn’t real,” He insisted.

“So I don’t get an apology?” You asked.

“What about Loki?” He countered.

“What about him? He kissed my cheek, I didn’t kiss his,” You said. :But if you are upset then I am sorry.”

Thor was silent and looked down. You waited. Nothing.

“You’re not going to apologize?” You asked again.

“I don’t see a reason for it. I was being friendly.”

“Oh?”

“And you weren’t there.”

“I wasn’t there? So what does that mean? That you can do whatever you want?”

“I am a king so yeah,” He scoffed.

Your mouth fell open and you threw your hands up. You backed away from him and shook your head.

“I wanna go home.”

“You haven’t even spent a moment with me and all you do is argue,” He said. “You haven’t given me a chance to make up for it.”

“You won’t even say sorry,” You accused. “What else can you do to make it up?”

“You’re not going anywhere. No one leaves or enters Asgard without my say.”

“I’ll find a way out,” You turned away.

“Loki won’t help you,” Thor was quick and pulled you back by your arm. “I won’t let him and he’s not that type.”

“And what are you then?” You tried to wrench away and he caught your other arm.

“I’m yours,” His voice deepened dangerously. “And you’re mine. That’s what you said.”

“Thor, let me go.” You pushed on his chest.

“No,” He said evenly. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m telling you to. What is wrong with you?”

“You have ignored me for the last week,” He marched you backwards as he spoke sternly, “I have welcomed you to my home, my kingdom, and you’ve treated me like nothing more than air.” You hit the wall harshly. “And you thought you could me jealous by using Loki? I’m not that stupid.”

“Thor--”

“I brought you here because I wanted you to see my home. Your home.” He said tersely. “Because I love you and no one can change that.”

“Please--”

“And know I do love you and if I do stray, I still will, but every wife must accept that they cannot change the nature of man. The nature of a god.” He held you to the wall as he leaned in. “I will take what I want when I want it.”

“Get off--”

He crashed his lips into yours roughly. You grabbed at his chest frantically, almost suffocated by his kiss. You bit down and he pulled away suddenly. He pinned you to the wall with an arm across your shoulders as he touched his lip. You hadn’t broken the skin.

“You don’t tell me what to do.” He snarled and grabbed the front of you jeans. “You must understand that by now.”

He pulled hard on the denim and the button came of as the zipped split. He leaned his weight on you as he forced the pants down past your hips. You kicked out and he easily blocked you. He stomped your foot and brought his large hand to your cheek, resting it there.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” He said. “So don’t make me.”

You quivered and his hand crept back down your body. Your panties were nothing to him as he tore them away. He placed his foot in the crotch of your jeans and forced them down the rest of the way. He freed one of your feet and grabbed your leg. He bent it against him and kissed you again.

His arm left your chest and went around you. He held you to him as he devoured you. You turned your head away from him and he growled. His arm fell lower and he lifted you. He balanced you between his body and the wall as he reached down between you.

His movements grew impatient as you struggled against him. You grabbed onto his arm and tried to wriggle your leg free of his grasp.

“You liked it before,” He purred as his fingers brushed your cunt. “Don’t act so innocent.”

“Please, Thor--”

“You want to play the silence game, we’ll play,” He grabbed his cock and rubbed it along your pussy. “Don’t make a fucking sound.”

He pushed himself back to your entrance and you voice fizzled as he sheathed himself in you. You were breathless as he filled you entirely. He was big and you weren’t used to taking him so suddenly, sometimes not even all of him. You clamped your lips shut before you could cry out and he hummed as he leaned against you.

He rested his head against the wall next to yours and his hand slipped down to your ass. He began to thrust, long, deliberate jerks that made your entire body ache. You let out little whimpers as he rutted against you, your arms pinned between your bodies.

“Shhh,” He hushed you as he nuzzled your neck.

He didn’t let up as the clapping of his flesh echoed down the airy corridors and his grunts interspersed the lascivious noise. You lifted your chin as your eyes rolled back in a mixture of pain and unexpected pleasure. His teeth grazed your neck and sank into your skin as he growled.

He jolted your body violently as his voice rose and his motion grew frantic. Your back was sore from the stone wall behind you and your arms were starting to buzz from being crushed against him. You let out shaky breaths as he gave several violent thrust and peaked with beastly grunt.

He stilled but kept you trapped between him and the stone. His breath lingered on your skin and he slowly lifted his head. He cradled your cheek and kissed your forehead gently.

“I do prefer it more when you’re loud.” He purred.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #dark thor x reader #dark!thor x reader #drabble #but kinda long #mcu #marvel #dark!drabble #dark drabble

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madzfm · 4 years ago

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˛ ⠀ * ⠀ ★ ⠀ JESSICA ALEXANDER . CIS FEMALE . SHE / HER ⧽ ⠀ have you seen the 786 latest post ? sources say they have some serious dirt on the child of a big time COUNTRY MUSIC STARS . they haven’t revealed who it was yet but my best is on MADISON DARLING ! ever since that last update about how she ALLEGEDLY GOT CAUGHT SPORTING A BABY BUMP LAST YEAR BEFORE GHOSTING EVERYONE i don’t put anything pass them . i mean , these celebrity kids are just out of control . they do whatever they want , whenever they want and are ungrateful in the process !! i mean take MADDIE for example , they’re a TWENTY THREE year old DANCER , and what did they do to get there ? have famous parents ! like hello , just because you HAVE BEEN IN MUSIC VIDEOS WITH A-LIST MUSICIANS doesn’t mean you actually deserved it . i’m glad the 786 is taking them down a notch . it’s about time someone does .

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐆𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐂 / 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 / 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

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hey ... hey ... how y’all doin’ ? i’m sooo excited to be here , besties ! sorry i’m late with the intro , it’s been a looooong weekend for me but i’m eager to get the ball rolling . so here’s the rundown , the google doc has a full bio + more stats + headcanons but i don’t expect anyone to actually read all that nonsense so i’ve tried my best to sum it up below ( it’s still kinda long tho i’m sorry y’all i ramble too much ). i’m always down to talk plots & threw a few wanted connection ideas at the bottom , so feel free to hmu on discord any time <3 but yes okay let’s get into it

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━━ ˊ * 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 . .

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞. madison dallas darling . 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞(𝐬). maddie , mads . 𝐝𝐨𝐛. april 14 , 1998 . 𝐚𝐠𝐞. twenty - three . 𝐳𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜. aries sun , libra moon , leo asc . ��𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫. cis female . 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬. she / her . 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. bisexual . 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞. nashville , tn . 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 5ft 5in . 𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. high school diploma . 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. dancer / realty tv personality . 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬. robert “robbie” darling - father . dixie darling - mother . delaney darling - sister . 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬. compassionate , imaginative , family-oriented , devoted , generous , sympathetic , idealistic , self critical , naive , competitive , indecisive , impressionable , elusive , sensitive .

━━ ˊ * 𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲 . .

tw : things like shitty controlling parents , injury , & pregnancy are mentioned

born & raised in nashville , tennessee , madison is the daughter of two country music icons ( basically blake shelton & miranda lambert ) & has only ever known a life in the spotlight . her parents were a widely adored it couple who shared their lives with millions of viewers across the world with their reality tv show . at 7pm cst you could tune in to watch robbie & dixie raise their two daughters - having some good ol’ wholesome family fun while juggling responsibilities that come with being famous artists . to any outsider looking in , they seemed like the perfect family . a loving father , a supportive mother , two prim & proper daughters that collected accolade after accolade in every pageant & talent competition they ever entered . but you shouldn’t believe everything you see on tv , even if it’s deceptively labeled as “reality” .

when the cameras weren’t rolling , the darling sisters were left under their mother’s restrictive control . dixie darling treated her daughters more like dolls than living beings , madison & delaney were basically pretty little accessories . while robbie never dared to mistreat his daughters , he was around a lot less than the show made it seem - often touring the world rather than spending quality time with his girls . plus , dixie & robbie seemed to endlessly fight with one another - nearly every childhood memory madison has of her parents involves them yelling . if she wanted to see them looking happy & in love , she’d have to tune in to the fabricated reality on their own show to get a taste of what a happy , loving family looks like .

you can’t be a child of dixie darling without being exploited in some way . while delaney was pushed into the music scene , madison was shoved into the world of dance . she took every class that was offered & practiced for hours upon hours to perfect her craft . her sister had taken after their folks with the singing voice of an angel & the looks to rival that of miss universe , meanwhile maddie was good for two things : dance & doing whatever her mother said . so when dixie said to twirl , she twirled , when she said do a grand jeté, maddie asked how high & then over performed like the good little girl she was trained to be .

it wasn’t until her parents got divorced & maddie moved to miami to be with her sister , her father , & her father’s new girlfriend that she sort of came out ( or more accruately described as dragged out ) of her timid , non - confrontational , subservient shell . with a longer leash , she had more freedom to roam far & wide . no one tried to tell her what to do or who to talk to & considering she was just a privileged teenager with endless funds & the status to get away with just about anything , you can imagine how badly that went . every mistake she made was broadcasted onto people’s televisions or headlined in tabloids . it was stressful , growing up & messing up all under the watchful gaze of millions of people who felt entitled to berate her for her poor life decisions . just because they watched her grow up on tv didn’t mean they actually knew anything about her . & yet so many people shared their unsolicited opinions on her & her life . it drove her insame .

maddie wasn’t handling the stress of being well known very well . she wanted a break from it all , to just go somewhere far away where no one knew her name & just live by herself . it was a silly dream . nothing she’d ever actively pursue . but the universe has a funny way of giving us a taste of what we think we want just to teach us a lesson .

so over a year ago , maddie found out that she was pregnant . it was a shock to say the least . she kept it a close guarded secret from everyone but her sister for awhile . not only was it a life changing development , but it was one thing that she was determined not to share with the rest of the world . with the idea of running away in continuous loop in the back of her mind , she came up with a plan to buy herself some time . she faked a really bad injury during a performance & let the media run with saying she might not be able to walk , let alone dance ever again . pushing the cover story even further , she claimed to be in need of intense physical therapy & sought after it in a luxurious private lodge in new zealand . that’s where she stayed during her year away , letting no outsiders come visit while she figured out how she was going to move forward with this baby growing inside of her .

so maddie finally got the break she was looking for even if it wasn’t under the circumstances that she would’ve liked . but she adapted to the situation . in her time away , she went through the entire pregnancy but it was basically decided for her by her parents that it was best to give the baby up for adoption . the little girl would be in good care by a couple that was a family friend of the darlings . better to bless someone who wanted a baby but couldn’t have one than for maddie to keep her daughter when she wasn’t in a place to take care of her . it broke her heart , honestly . she had grown quite attached to the baby & even entertained the idea of being a single mom even though she knew her own mom would never let that happen - it would go against the strict narrative that they try to put out there about the darling family .

after a year away , maddie is back in miami without anyone knowing what really happened . she keeps using the “injury” as the excuse for her absence from the spotlight . anyone really close to her might be able to tell that something’s off , but she’s trying so hard to act like everything is fine & nothing has changed at all . she might even be able to get away with her lies - if it wasn’t for that damn 786 website threatening to spill the tea & make her life hell .

━━ ˊ * 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 & 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 . .

a wannabe good girl gone bad but harbors a deep rooted fear of being a disappointment & a failure due to her mom’s strict parenting style . so like she wants to be rebellious & come across as carefree but internally she’s panic screaming always ( honestly relatable like same , girl )

well - mannered in a sweet southern belle kind of way with her please’s & thank you’s & calling everyone ma’am & sir out of respect & what not

biiiig mom friend energy . she just wants to make sure that everyone is taken care of . she can get very protective & a little helicopter parent-y with her friends . it probably has something to do with control issues that she doesn’t realize she has but we don’t have time to unpack that rn akjsdbk

before her year away i want to say that she was a lot more people please-y / overly eager to please ?? like rarely said no to people that asked for favors , always agreed to any plans people invited her to out of courtesy , & what have you . but now i see her as being a little less patient than before & a little bit more unhinged & quick to shut down or snap

guillable ! naive ! dumb as hell ! believes that everyone was raised with the same values as her & has a big of a heart like she does so she’s easily subjectable to getting her feelings hurt & i say let it happen !!

wants to be mysterious so bad but there is very little known about her & her life that isn’t public knowledge . she could get shit on by a bird & it’ll probably become a twitter highlight idk she just wants to believe she’s imperceptible & acts all evasive in order to keep her private life private but that rarely ever has the desired effect

one of those annoying rich & famous people that’s like “i wasn’t meant to be famous . i was meant to have a normal life & be a normal person” but like !! she is actually so out of touch with reality & probably couldn’t tell you how much milk is at the grocery store because she has people to do mundane day to day things for her . spoiled little privileged rich girl , let’s be real . her dad tried to keep her humble , idk what happened

dance style / career is pretty much inspired by maddie ziegler but also not really bc i am very picky & choosey about which aspects of her career i’m pulling from

boring on social media because she hardly ever posts & is very short with her captions & tweets when she does make an appearance online every blue moon

dodges questions about what she’s been up to while she was gone like she’s in the matrix or something . all that pr training her mom put her through when she was younger is coming in handy because she has not given a single honest , straight answer in the months she’s been back . would rather talk about anything else than herself right now so don’t be surprised if she pulls some random subject changes out of her ass if people get nosy . i’m sure the common conspiracy is that maddie was so embarrassed by the fall on stage that she went into hiding

delaney is the kim kardashian & britney spears of the family while madison is the kourtney & the jamie lynn xoxo

━━ ˊ * 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 . .

ride or die , bad influence , frenemies , family friends , good influence , confidant , rival , girl squad , non judging breakfast club , childhood friend , unlikely friend , exes on good terms , exes on bad terms , neighbors , pr friendship , pr enemy , social media mutuals , party buddies , secret friend , secret hook - up , crush , friends with benefits , adventure buddy , enemy with benefits , dance partners , mentors , mentees , sibling like relationship , will they won’t they , people suspicious of her & her supposed “injury” , father of her baby 👀 jk ..... unless

#786intro #template credit to yeonjvnz on deviantart !#they're linked in the source <3

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shotgun--rider · 4 years ago

Text

Rumor

A Jensen x Reader oneshot

Y/N’s never considered how many suspiciously snuggly photos there are of her and her best friend. Then they all come out in a Buzzfeed article, published just in time for everyone to grill her during her solo panel. Now what?

Word Count: 4000

Warnings: Really dumb fluff, everyone’s anxious, Jared and Briana are sick of everyone’s shit

A/N: This is dumb and fluffy and dangerously song-fic territory but it showed up and demanded to be written so here you go. I have no idea if this is actually any good. Enjoy?

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You were the epitome of normal, growing up. You had decent grades, run-of-the-mill hobbies, and an average high school cashier job. You could hop on your bike (and later, borrow your parents’ car) and take yourself to the coffee shop, or to a friend’s, and the only people that would look twice at you were drivers checking to make sure the kid on the bike didn’t steer into traffic.

You didn’t win any “most likely to” awards in the yearbook, your college major was undecided for an embarrassing length of time, and your 300-odd Instagram followers were comprised of friends and some polite acquaintances from welcome week. And you didn’t mind. You were perfectly happy to go through your day-to-day without turning heads and making waves.

That was all before you’d answered an open casting call on a whim, strapped for cash and mostly there because a sparkly website proclaiming “50 Easy Side Hustles!” had suggested spending your weekends as an extra if you lived in a big filming city. Before your three-episode contract in a show you’d never bothered to watch turned into a series regular.

Now, you’re pretty much guaranteed to have your face splashed across the internet every time you stick a toe off the end of your L.A. property line. Even if the paparazzi aren’t there to get you in Page Six with some wildly exaggerated nonsense, a fan somewhere will snap a blurry photo and upload it somewhere for people to shout about you in the comments section. You’ve never gotten used to being tagged in edits of your own face, or watching your follower count creep steadily upwards. You’re just… you. You’ve always been just the normal, average girl from a nothing-special hometown.

Even after your third year running on Supernatural, you still forget. You still make it all the way to the end of the block before you remember that the person shouting your name is the bodyguard you accidentally abandoned two errands ago. You still get confused when the restaurant wait staff stares at you, still get annoyed calls from your publicist begging you to at least try to appear in fewer coffee shop paparazzi pictures looking like a disgruntled zombie who’s never seen a hairbrush. (Sue you, you can’t be expected to be functional before a cup of coffee.)

You’re a brilliant actress, an unexpected fan-favorite, relatable to everyone in your autograph line...and you’re kind of a terrible celebrity. Unlike certain child models turned actors straight at 18 you may know, this isn’t a world you were trained in. Which is probably why it doesn’t even occur to you that being caught frequently in the company of your best friend might look like something until you’re staring at your own name in a headline on your phone screen, in line at Starbucks before your first panel of the con weekend.

Y/N L/N’s Secret Relationship With Co-Star Jensen Ackles, howls the bold-printed headline, and you blink stupidly at the letters, uncomprehending, until you realize that someone’s trying to get your attention. “Sorry, what?”

The barista looks impatient, suppressing an eyeroll and starting her spiel before cutting off halfway with a squeak. “Oh, my god, you’re her! I’m sorry, I’m just… you’re literally my favorite!” She’s blushing and stuttering and has a near-death grip on the empty coffee cup she was preparing to write your name on.

“Oh,” you reply, forcing the fog of confusion from your brain and slapping on a smile. “Hi, you caught me.”

“Can I...um…” the girl reaches into her back pocket and sheepishly produces her cell phone, complete with a flaming pentagram case. “Um, selfie?”

You smile indulgently, leaning over the counter. The fans are one of the best parts, really, and it’s never a hardship to make someone smile. (That is, when they’re not selling rumors and lies to the tabloids, you think grumpily.)

The barista girl pulls back with a wide smile and a full-face blush, and keeps glancing shyly up at you while she punches in your usual order, plus the second coffee Jensen texted you this morning to beg for. “So I guess Jensen’s around here too, then, right?” she asks perkily, taking your card.

“Uh...sorry, what?”

She shrugs like it’s obvious. “Since you flew in together,”

You blink rapidly, feeling stupid. You’re obviously missing the punchline somewhere. “We, uh...didn’t. I mean...I flew out of L.A.,” you say cautiously. Your home city is already public knowledge, as is the fact that Jensen lives in Austin, and you can’t imagine she doesn’t know this.

Her eyes pop wide with curiosity. “Wait, so you’re not staying with him?”

This conversation is too much for your poor, jetlagged, coffeeless brain. “No?” you try weakly, so far past confused at this point that you might actually be getting a headache. “Why would I…”

Not that Jensen’s Austin house isn’t lovely, and not that you’d object to staying there, and not that you haven’t stayed there plenty of times before, but you’re pretty sure you’re still missing the point.

The barista lunges forward over the counter, leaning in to ask in a hushed voice, “Did you guys break up?”

An emphatic “No!” leaves your mouth so loudly that the old man in line behind you starts grumbling. “No, you don’t--”

“Get a move on,” Old Man grouches in the background. “I don’t care who you are,”

“Oh, good,” the girl cuts you off with a relieved grin. “You guys are so cute, you know? I mean, I kinda figured you had to have something going on, but actually seeing it--it’s going to be so much cuter if Dean and Sierra ever kiss now, oh my god--”

She devolves into a squeal, and the we’re not actually dating dies on your tongue. You have better things to do this morning than correct the misinformation of one teenage barista, so you end up just shaking your head and taking the two cups of coffee wearily. “Right, well, I’ve gotta go, so--” you duck around the old man and beeline for the door before anyone can say anything else. Oh, god, your publicist is so going to kill you.

***

Jared and Jensen are both in the green room when you make it back to the convention hotel, and you groan softly as you walk into the room. Once Jared hears about your so-called relationship, you’re never going to hear the end of it. Then again, better he hear it from you than find it in the tabloids. May as well bite the bullet now before it comes up in a Q&A.

“Hey,” you slide up to Jensen’s elbow, holding out the requested coffee cup as a preemptive truce. “So, we’re apparently dating now,”

Jensen snorts, shaking his head and swapping the coffee cup into his other hand so he can wrap his arm around your shoulders in greeting. “Yeah, I saw that.”

“I think I may have given a barista the impression we’ve had a tumultuous breakup,” you say ruefully, tilting your head up to look at him in apology. “Sorry,”

Jensen’s green eyes are dancing, though, and he throws back his head and laughs, still keeping you tucked close enough that you can feel his whole body shake. “Of course you did, sweetheart,”

It’s pretty much the reaction you expected from Jensen, who’s so used to your antics at this point that he just gives you a fond smile and moves on to damage control. Jared, on the other hand, is...not commenting, and suspicion cuts short your quiet enjoyment of being hugged against Jensen. It took the boys a while to feel comfortable messing with you when you first got on set, but after they figured out you gave as good as you got, they’d never yet missed an opportunity to tease and prank you.

You squint at Jared warily. “Why aren’t you reacting?”

Jared’s lips immediately start twitching, but he makes a valiant attempt at a mock-concerned face. “Oh shit, sorry. Here, tell me again and I’ll pretend like I’m surprised this time,”

Unwilling to bother unwinding yourself from under Jensen’s arm, you extend a childish foot in the direction of Jared’s shins, scowling at him. He dodges easily, laughing, and tosses out, “Someone should really tell Buzzfeed they’re reporting really old news,”

“Shut up and drink your damn coffee, Padalecki,” you shoot back without any real venom.

“Oh, you mean my hotel coffee? The coffee I got stuck with because you only buy Starbucks for Jensen?”

Jensen straightens up proudly, no doubt making a face at Jared over the top of your head. “Y/N just likes me better. That’s why she’s my best friend.”

You roll your eyes, ducking under Jensen’s arm and a few steps away. “You both suck,” you deadpan, resisting an internal wince at the friendzone. “Now shut up and let me drink my coffee, I have to be on stage in fifteen minutes,”

And God, but your head is way too scrambled for a panel right now. Fifteen minutes is nowhere close to enough time to get your shit together, and you’re going to have to somehow walk out there and not let everyone know.

You take a seat halfway across the room, watching Jared and Jensen still standing there, heads bowed together, arguing quietly about something. Jensen’s starting to wear an annoyed expression and he still manages to look beautiful and goddamnit this is how you got in trouble in the first place.

You scroll listlessly through your phone, a headache beginning behind your eyes, and freeze when you realize that you left the damn article open. The headline photo is a picture of you and Jensen on a sidewalk in L.A., caught mid-conversation with Jensen’s hand on your back and a stupid, dopey look on your face while you stare up at him like he hung the moon. Fuck, you’re an idiot.

A hasty scroll through the rest of the article reveals more of the same, and you could kick yourself for making your dumb crush so obvious. The photo captions are practically mocking you, labelled with things like “an intimate evening for Ackles and L/N” and, under a picture of the two of you at a beach, “We might be a little mad that the two most attractive people are together”.

Well, at least now you know what every single question at your panel is going to be about. And somehow you have to figure out how to play this off like it’s nothing. Of course I don’t have a crush the size of a mid-sized whale on Jensen, hahaha, that’s such a hilarious idea!

Your only saving grace is that clearly, Jensen doesn’t think anything of it. It’s nothing more than a brief joke to him and Jared, and as much as that should bring you relief, it still stings to know that he’s obviously never bothered to think of you that way. And why would he? For all Buzzfeed’s nonsense about you making an attractive couple, Jensen Ackles miles above your league.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Misha sitting down next to you, an easy smile on his face as he nudges your shoulder with his own. “So, welcome to the club,”

Typically, you and Misha are pretty close friends, but your patience is too short this morning for any of his shit. “What club?” you shoot back grumpily.

“People who the internet have declared in love with Jensen Ackles,” Misha returns, grinning like it’s obvious.

“Ha, ha. See, except when that happens to you, people think it’s funny,”

“It is funny,”

“Not for me!” you explode, belatedly wincing at your harsh tone. “You and Jensen fuck around on stage and that works for you. If I don’t get my shit together in the next five minutes, I’m getting my name dragged through stupid tabloids and laughed straight off the show because I couldn’t keep my goddamn stupid pathetic crush under control!”

“Hey,” Misha waits until you meet his blue eyes. “That’s not going to happen. Okay? It’s not,”

“Misha--”

“Y/N,” Misha returns firmly. “It’s going to be okay. Jensen would never let anything happen to you. And you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.”

You sigh softly, nodding. Rationally, you know he’s right. But mostly, as much as you’re worked up about the panel, your fear is that Jensen is going to be the one laughing at you, and you don’t know how to explain that. “Yeah,” you say dully, just as a convention worker comes forward to collect you.

“If it’s really going to shit, I’ll come distract everyone,”

“Somehow, I think that would be worse,” you shoot back over your shoulder as you start walking to the stage. Breathe, Y/N. You’re fine.

You wait for the introductions to finish and take your place on the stage, a slightly breathy laugh escaping into the mic as you look out at the crowd. That is a lot of eyes watching your every move. And they’re on your side, you remind yourself. It’s the fans who’ve been tireless supporters of you and your character, this whole time.

“Hey, guys,” you clear your throat. “What’s up?”

You chatter for a while about whatever you can think of, telling an edited version of the grumpy Starbucks man this morning and rambling a little about Jared’s latest on-set antics. All too quickly, though, you run out of things to say, leaving you with no choice but to ask for questions.

At first, to your great relief, they’re pretty tame. You spend a solid few minutes breaking down Sierra’s latest character arc, and the time she’s spending hunting on her own. You do get a few questions about whether she and Dean could get together when she gets back with the brothers, but as long as it stays firmly in the realm of your characters, you’re not worried.

“And what’s your name?” You ask gently, trying to reassure the nervous young woman at the microphone.

“Uh, Y/N…”

“I love that name!” you wink at her, rearranging yourself in the chair to be more comfortable. “What do you want to know, Y/N?”

“Uh,” she stutters, her face blushing pink. “You’re my favorite actress, and, I, um,”

“That’s very sweet,” you interject, nodding to encourage her.

“I just, uh, really want good things for you, and I just wanted to ask if, um, areyoureallydatingJensen?” she spits out all in one breath. “Cause you deserve him,”

You blink, shifting in your seat. You’d arrived at the elephant in the room. Damn.

“Uh,” escapes your mouth as you frantically try to construct a diplomatic sentence. “No, actually, no, we’re not.” I wish. “The, um, the article was a surprise to us too!” You added a little shrug in as punctuation, trying to play it off.

“But you guys look so cute together!” Other Y/N exclaims. “He looks at you like--” she cuts off, biting her lip so hard you can see the white from the stage. “Nevermind. Sorry.”

“No worries,” you assure her casually, like you’re not dying to know what she was going to say. “Next question?”

The next one up is another young woman, this time much bolder in her question. “But if you were given the opportunity, would you date Jensen Ackles?”

God, Chuck, literally anyone please kill me. “I don’t know how to answer this without getting in trouble,” you finally laugh nervously. “This is a dangerous question,”

The audience all laughs loudly, some of them throwing out comments and suggestions. “In the interests of not getting killed in my bed tonight,” you say lightly when they’ve quieted. “I’m going to skip that question,”

There’s really no saving you, though. After that first question, it’s like a dam has broken and everyone wants to know about your relationship with Jensen. What do you think of his house in Austin and does he cook for you and what do you do between takes and where’s your favorite place to go together. Someone even asks if you’re hooking up even if you’re not dating, which you’re positive turns your face completely purple before you get through redirecting that fan.

An hour later, you stagger off the stage mentally exhausted and thoroughly grumpy.

“Ouch,” Briana sympathizes, sliding up beside you as you grab a water bottle in the green room.

“Can’t wait for my dumb red face to trend on Tumblr,” you mutter, wondering darkly if you could just jump out one of the windows.

Briana laughs like she knows something you don’t, and rubs a hand over your back soothingly. “Come on, let’s get you out of your head before your photos,”

The two of you end up on a walk a few blocks from the convention hotel, fresh coffees in hand and Briana chattering away while you nod along. It’s not that you’re tuning her out, exactly, you’re just...overwhelmed. You do, however, notice when she stops talking.

“Are you listening to me?” she looks at you sharply.

“Sorry, B,” you mumble. “Got distracted. What?”

Briana shakes her head with loving exasperation. “I asked what you’re wearing to karaoke tonight,”

“I’m probably not going to--” you start.

“Oh, no you don’t. You can’t leave me there alone,” Briana interrupts, folding her arms across her chest.

“What do you mean, alone? Kim and Rich and literally everyone will be there,”

“You are not allowed to skip karaoke.” Briana says firmly, and you suddenly know how her daughter must feel when she’s misbehaved. “Besides, Jensen’s singing with Louden Swain beforehand. Don’t you want to see it?”

“Fine. But I’m wearing this,” you gesture to your plain black top and jeans. To be honest, you’re not sure if you actually do want to see Jensen perform, or bother with the rest of karaoke night. Mostly you just want to crawl into bed and put the covers over your head and pretend that you haven’t been making a fool of yourself all morning, but Briana is a force of nature when she wants something.

She smiles excitedly at your acquiescence, pulling out her phone for a moment to type something before you start heading back.

You nudge her teasingly with your elbow. “Your phone more exciting than me?”

Briana just slides it away hastily before you can read more than Jared’s name over her shoulder. “Just taking care of something.”

There’s something she’s not telling you, but you don’t feel like digging right now. You’re just focusing on getting to the end of this convention without spilling all your secrets and looking like an idiot.

By the time you’re sitting down in the seats for Louden Swain’s set, your face is indeed all over Tumblr. (You always deny having the stupid app, but sometimes a girl’s gotta know what people are saying about her and her hot costars.) There’s comments full of stupid speculation that you’re hiding your relationship, including a whole thread about how you’re clearly hiding your secret threesome with Jensen and Misha. Great.

“Uh, okay,” a familiar voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Jensen’s on stage in front of the microphone, holding his guitar. “This was not part of my original plan, so...if this goes badly, it’s all Jared and Briana’s fault.”

The crowd laughs good-naturedly as your gaze snaps immediately to Briana. Infuriatingly, your friend just shrugs.

“This is a cover of a song neither of us wrote,” Jensen continues, gesturing between himself and Louden Swain behind him. “But I thought it could be fitting,”

He’s nervous, you realize, watching the way he’s fiddling with his guitar strap while he talks. But you have no idea what he’s doing. And you have no idea why he didn’t tell you. The two of you always know what stupid thing the other person is planning, especially stunts in front of the fans. But clearly not this time. With a sinking sense of dread, you wonder if maybe he does hate you a little bit after today, and that article. Maybe that’s why he’s not talking to you. You swallow hard against the sting in your throat, and Jensen starts playing.

The opening chords are definitely from a country song you vaguely recognize from the radio, and you wonder why this is Jensen’s choice over one of his own songs.

“Girl, you know I've known you forever / How many nights we hung out together,”

Across the room, Briana has an enormous smile on her face.

“My boys are laughing and tap me on the shoulder / Making a motion like, ‘Could y'all get any closer?’” He punctuates the words with a little scowl in Jared’s direction.

“There's a rumor going 'round about me and you / Stirring up our little town the last week or two / So tell me why we even trying to deny this feeling / I feel it, don't you feel it too? / There's a rumor going 'round, and 'round, and 'round / What d'you say we make it true?”

There are a lot of people suddenly making noise around you as they come to the same realization that you are, but you’re frozen in your seat. The rumor is you. He’s talking about you. Jensen’s singing for you. And you should be elated but your mind is stuck on a loop of what the fuck there’s no way this is real.

You don’t even realize that the song is over until everyone is clapping and you’re still stuck staring with embarrassingly wide eyes, Jensen up on stage with an embarrassed dusting of red across his face and a slowly deflating expression.

“Hey,” Jared’s elbow digs hard into your ribs suddenly. “Please do something. I can’t take any more of him like this,”

“What--oh--shit!” spills out of your mouth as you stand hastily, your phone tumbling off your lap. “I’m just gonna--”

By some miracle, you make it through the crush of people and around to the backstage area, your heart racing unevenly in your chest. You have no idea what you’re supposed to say, or if Jensen will be there, or if you’re even interpreting this right. Maybe it’s all just wishful thinking. No, Jared wouldn’t have encouraged you if that were true. Would he?

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you end up plowing straight into Jensen’s chest, his arm sliding automatically around your waist as you wobble off balance. “Shit, I’m sorry!”

He steadies you, green eyes searching your face with a flicker of vulnerability. “Hey,”

“Hey,” you whisper back. You have no idea what happens now.

With his free hand, Jensen rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look, if that was too much--”

“No!” you shake your head quickly. “I’m sorry, I was just...processing. I...it was really sweet, Jen,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “I just… me? Are you sure?”

“Why not you?” Jensen’s face wrinkles in confusion. He moves both hands to your waist, the warmth of his skin bleeding through your thin shirt as he tugs you closer. “Y/N,”

There’s something in you screaming that you might not get to do this again, that he’s going to come to his senses, that the whole thing is a dream, and before you can second guess yourself you launch yourself up onto your tiptoes and kiss him.

Your arms go around his neck while Jensen wraps you up tighter against his chest and it’s not fireworks, or earth shattering, or anything so dramatic. His mouth moving against yours just feels like home and love and of course. Of course you were going to get here, of course it was going to be like this.

Jensen lifts you off your feet for a moment before breaking the kiss, and he looks just breathless and flushed enough that you’re equal parts proud and turned on.

“Of course it’s you,” he murmurs, one hand under your chin to tilt your head up to him. “Of course I love you. You’re my best friend.”

------

Something ate my taglist! If you want to be tagged, please message me!

#supernatural #jensen ackles #supernatural rpf #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #spn #rpf #x reader #reader insert #oneshot

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 5 years ago

Text

based on this hilarious post, by @profoundinqq! and written for @mystybloo.

sam looks at his brother, a fast-growing-familiar eye crinkling smile making him look perfectly content as he leans on cas, relaxing his weight against him with an arm wrapped around cas's shoulders. they're all drinking — have been a while, but that's not where dean's smile stems from, and sam knows that. he looks carefree, younger, and so happy, and it's a constant sam's been noticing a while now, though tonight, and lately, it just seems normal.

(that's the thing. it is.)

sometimes sam wonders how it all began.

he's obviously ecstatic it did - honestly, he could think forever, and not come up with two individuals more deserving of such profound happiness, as dean or cas. or the love, abound when they're together, so incredibly obvious, and somehow, almost hope-kindling in a ways.

but it doesn't stop him wondering, right now, at this moment, how they finally ended up taking the leap. facing the music, falling into each other's arms, ending their ridiculous, decade-long dance of pining, confessing.

dean's never volunteered the information, and sam's never felt it urgent enough (or himself, earnest enough) to ask cas - but oh, it's probably been buried in the back of his mind for long, bundled with all the other pleasanter questions about life and living it — and today, it leaps to the front when the empty, green bottle spinning ambitiously under everyone's pointed stares, ends up stuttering to a pause, pointed at his brother.

they're playing truth or dare - a significant percentage of their adopted family present, although only a few remaining cause it's past midnight. they're sitting on the floor in a circle, all varying degrees of drunk - and sam winchester seizes his chance.

"truth or dare, dean."

dean doesn't really hesitate, which is commendable; he just disentangles himself from being draped over his boyfriend, and takes another swig from his bottle. "truth."

"how did you and cas -" sam pauses. his eyes shift to cas, and the angel faintly smiles back.

"- finally grow a pair?" gabriel finishes for him prematurely, leading to sam glaring in his general direction, because it's a little hard to know his exact coordinates at sam's current levels of inebriation.

"we haven't been growing anything." cas says, a hint of humor in his squint but that's about it. "or pairs of things."

"yeah, sammy." dean agrees, though his is not a wooden face. he doesn't pretend to not understand what sam - or well, gabriel, is going for. "me and cas? we're old news."

"you're a blank page." sam frowns, prissy and self-righteous, and somehow pulling off an annoyed little brother vibe on top of that. fuck that, he's the same distance from forty as dean, just the less prone-to-forgetting-the-reasons-he-enters-a-room side. "with a question mark at the end of the headline."

"how did you end up together?"

it's not his best comeback, but dean rolls his eyes — admission of defeat — with no real passion in the practiced habit. "what do you want to know?"

cas looks at dean with a substantial amount of surprise.

"he gave me a pick-me-up, back in hell." dean throws back, before realizing he's earned eye rolls from almost everyone in the room. sam takes it a step ahead, slipping into bitchface territory, as if to remind dean that he gets to ask these questions now - they're over lying about breaking the world to each other, at this point. they have to be.

another eyeroll, and then dean sighs.

"goddamn saps, all of you." he looks accusingly around the room, meeting eileen, charlie and gabriel's twinkling eyes. "fine. what version you want?"

"well, the long -"

"trick question. there's only one." dean cuts him off, with an age-old rendition of a shit-eating grin. if sam can spend his entire life and then some, perfecting the bitchface, at least dean's got this. "so, uh. me and cas."

charlie giggles, but shuts up immediately when dean starts speaking.

"guess we were playing truth and dare then as well." dean frowns. "man, for a bunch of badass dudes and ladies who save the world, we sure play a lot of middle-school games in the afterparties."

"i like it." cas defends, and that's that on that, because dean strokes cas's knee with his thumb and a smile, and they stare until the fork in the conversation is forgotten and sam clears his throat impatiently. (it's gabriel's turn to giggle.)

"right. right, yeah." dean swallows. "well, so it landed on me, and cas asked me to choose -"

"he dared you to kiss him!" charlie guesses, or actually, declares, beaming.

"no, katherine heigl, this isn't a chickflick."

"if you went for katherine heigl, you should've gone for romcom." gabriel inputs, almost serious for a fraction of a second.

"does it matter?" eileen signs, and sam reads her hands out loud absentmindedly, and with enthusiasm.

"dean, would you just say it minus the drama pauses?"

"yeah, instead of being grossly inaccurate in your movie genre references?" gabriel piles on top of it, and charlie nods in sympathy.

"of course you are, but i think i specified your face was." cas points out, and it's the first time he's spoken up, and dean almost blushes for it.

dean pulls a face. "go to hell, i don't have to take this." but he goes on anyway, cause that's dean, isn't it? "just - i chose truth, okay?"

no one breathes for a moment.

"and cas told me i was beautiful."

there's a gasp. probably charlie — but not completely unlikely to be gabriel.

"yeah, 'kay." dean dismisses, though it's mostly directed at the other four (hunter, hunter, nerd, ex-trickster, not necessarily in that order) who've taken to gushing by now. "and that's it. story over. cas messed up, billion year old angel style, and it led me to realize he was the most adorable dork i've ever loved. or like, the only one. ever."

sam, charlie, eileen and gabriel bat their eyelashes in undisguised wonder.

"you're allowed to disperse to your rooms to cry now." dean retorts, and he's about to add more to it considering he's well settled on the wisecrack wavelength, when cas suddenly interrupts.

with an inscrutable, "no."

"no?" dean repeats, eyebrows raised.

there's a speck in cas's eyes, the curve of his lips too whimsical. it's almost un-cas-like, except no, it isn't. doesn't stop dean from staring anyways - eyes falling to the latter's lips, before returning to his eyes.

"dean, i knew how the game worked."

dean frowns.

"i 'messed up' the rules on purpose." and he accompanies it with the fucking air-quotes, so he might sound completely nuts, but it's definitely still him.

"what does that mean?"

there's pin-drop silence.

"you'd call me adorable when i didn't understand aspects of human behavior or games often. and it always made you smile. so at some level, i wanted that, even when i did understand those things. sometimes, i'm compelled to draw the conclusion, i wanted you to think i was adorable." cas pauses, blinks. "that time, it was an added, and wholly unexpected incentive when you decided to give up on trying to explain it to me, and kissed me instead."

"cas -" dean stares at his angel in gap mouthed bewilderment. he doesn't know what he's supposed to feel right now - though it's hard to feel any kind of manipulated, when cas is being this honest about it. alternatively, when it's gotten him the best part of his life. "you lied to me."

"of course i didn't." the bastard has the balls to sound indignant about it. "your face is exquisite."

"stop that." dean swallows, trying to keep himself from getting flustered. "you literally played dumb."

"stating entirely true facts about your bewitching face hardly sets back my intelligence, dean."

a traitor snickers in the background.

dean is officially too drunk to deal with this. he's going to give it more thought tomorrow - that is, if he remembers it at all. right now, what's way more important, is that his boyfriend apparently flirts by pretending to misinterpret rules, and accidentally compliment dean, and that's the most ridiculous thing dean's ever heard, in a life stuffed to the damn brim with ridiculous things.

"you're so fucking weird, cas."

"no, dean. i'm adorable." cas deadpans at him, and dean lets out a high-strung laugh, short, after which he finds himself able to do little else but shake his head fondly. mostly, at the floor, because if he'd been looking at cas, he'd probably also have been kissing him.

"and you agree." sam points out, to dean, and in return, dean snaps up a look pissed off enough for sam to truly feel sated enough by this ordeal, because he shrugs, and eileen sets the bottle spinning again.

nobody protests.

a few chances later, after charlie's rushed off to throw up, and sam and eileen have gone to bed, and gabriel's sort of wandered away at the very least - cas spins the bottle again.

it's just the two of them, so when the bottle points at about forty degrees from straight at dean, they decide to forego asking the lamp in the bottle's true line of questioning, in favor of cas asking dean.

"truth or dare?"

"dare."

"alright, i shall." cas whispers, reaching out to cup dean's face as he kisses him, and pull him closer. and dean goes, obviously not arguing with the concept of cas kissing him, even if he's doing it 'as a dare', in a hilarious, mindboggling, and adorable callback to that time dean realized he was in love with him — because he's a weird ex-angel-who-apparently-understands-humans-now, and also, definitely, the love of his life.

("cas." dean psst's, later in bed, when cas is turned away from him, hugging a pillow with his knees. "truth or dare?" cas groggily turns, "truth." dean breaks into a smile. "will you marry me?" cas freezes for a beat, and then drags dean to himself, kissing him with his eyes closed, still stunned, but no less enthusiastic for it. when they separate, cas's cheeks are wet, and dean feels like he's floating. "you know, sweetheart, we can play the old-fashioned way, and you'd still be the most adorable thing in my life." dean mumbles, kissing cas again, this time on his forehead, and in the same, shared breath, cas breathes out, smiling. "yes.")

#destiel #deancas #destiel crack #destiel fluff #dean winchester #castiel #canon divergence #sam winchester #saileen #charlie bradbury #gabriel #tfw #destiel wedding #truth or dare #bluefirecas #tearsofgrace #rambleoncas #chaoticdean #oh writing my writing

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powerbottomeminem · 4 years ago

Note

if ur still doin the kiss prompts, can u do the 51. public kiss but its em kissing kim and kells sees?

51. Public kiss (Eminem x Kim, MGK witness)

"What the fuck is this!", Colson's voice was too loud.

Marshall hadn’t closed the hotel room door yet, only a confused "Huh?" left him.

"Don’t play dumb with me", Colson snarled, "I shouldn’t even be here, you ... What the hell is it with you two?"

"Who?", Marshall asked still confused and walked closer.

Colson threw a magazine at him. "You and her. I don’t get it. Was this all just a trick to get her back? Or some weird revenge for the beef?"

"What the-?" The cover of the magazine had Marshall’s face on it and the headline read: Eminem and Kim, is it real love this time? "Oh come the fuck on!", Marshall huffed indignant and threw it on the couch table. "You know not to believe that shit. They always lie."

"Oh really?" Colson picked the magazine up again and opened it, shoving the page with a bunch of paparazzi photos into Marshall’s face. "Pictures don’t lie!"

Pictures of Marshall kissing Kim. New pictures of them.

"You swore it was over. In how many songs did you swear it was over?" Tears gleamed in Colson's eyes, but the anger kept them inside. "Am I just a joke to you? Fucking asshole!"

"Colson, hon, I-", Marshall started but his words wouldn’t be believed. It’s not what it looks like, yeah that’s what they all say. "Let’s talk about this", he said instead.

"No! Don’t butter me up or some stupid shit. Just break up with me, alright. Let’s get it over with. I can’t win against here anyway …", voice fading on the last words. Anger fading for sadness, the real feeling of the moment. "I should’ve never done this in the first place."

"But-" Marshall looked at his boyfriend - apparently soon to be ex-boyfriend - unbelieving and shocked. It was this easy to end? Didn’t they mean more to each other? A few stupid photos and it was over already? Then what was this even? Merely a fling, meaningless and without substance.

But Marshall’s heart hurt. "How can you even think that!", he yelled back, "Don’t you know how much bullshit that woman put me through? And I her? How can you even for a second believe I’d take her back? I learned my fucking lesson, you fucking idiot!" Fists balled and shaking, not with anger but pain. He’d thought this was good now, a relationship worth having. Not perfect by any means, but one where they understood each other. That’s all Marshall was really yearning for. Somebody who understood, somebody who knew, somebody to seek comfort with when life was getting too much.

And he’d thought to be that person for Colson, too. But perhaps Colson didn’t want that. What did Marshall know what the other wanted from this?

"I bet you said that the first time, too", Colson threw back at him. The anger sounded exhausted, easier to keep it up than to face reality.

Marshall knew that feeling but he never found how to break it. "Shut the fuck up! You know nothing!"

"I know enough!", their voices were both too high, too loud, "You still love her, don’t you. So you kiss her and take her back when she comes crawling! And I’m just a side piece!"

Marshall kicked against the couch table and it fell over from the force. "Shut! The fuck! Up!" That wasn’t what had happened, not this time. "It was just a stupid fucking kiss! Shit!" Why was this going so bad?

~.~

Kim smiled earnestly, almost shy. "This was surprisingly nice. Kinda weird but nice", a short look around the restaurant, empty but for them. She wasn’t used to this.

Neither was Marshall. This always felt eerie and weird to him, but this was his life and he had learned to live with it eventually. "Yeah, it was." Not being with each other for years had calmed down the waves, both of them hot heads, both of them finding this life stressful but perhaps for different reasons. Marshall wanted to say sorry. If it wasn’t for him, her life might’ve not been such a shitshow. Perhaps it would’ve still turned out this way, just less public. Who knew? He didn’t say it though.

They stood up from the table and their dinner, it felt like the last dinner they would ever have together. All three of their daughters grown up now, the last band holding them together grew thinner and thinner each year. There was no reason to meet anymore, less reason to have a real conversation.

Once Marshall had thought he’d never be without her, now he couldn’t imagine a life with her. The love that once was left nostalgia and obligation and memories, but looking at her now how she corrected the collar of her coat ... She was a woman he didn’t know and that was okay.

He held the door open for her and as she stepped through, he held her back for a moment. "Have a good life", he said quietly, honestly and kissed her goodbye.

Mild surprise on her face. "Good night, Marshall." She left for her car, only once looking back and waving at him briefly. Did she feel the same thing? He could never tell.

But tonight he didn’t mind. It didn’t matter and it would never again. She was just a woman securing her alimony now with the children out of the picture. And to his own surprise he didn’t mind that either.

~.~

"It was just a stupid kiss", Marshall repeated, not willing to let the hurt show. Colson didn’t deserve to see it if he believed this bullshit. "It didn’t even mean anything! Why’re you making such a mess?"

"I’m making the mess?", Colson asked indignant, "You fucking kissed her! Her of all people!"

Marshall threw his hands in the air frustrated. "Yes, you! She’s just a woman, don’t blow it out of proportion."

"No, she’s not", Colson huffed. "And you know that."

"Yes! I know that, so fucking believe me when I tell you she’s just a woman." He stared at Colson through slitted eyes, to hide the plea he felt filling them up with wetness. "And as a reminder, I don’t really like women all that much, aight."

Colson crossed his arms in front of his chest, his height always had him looking down on Marshall. "That’s hard to believe. Then why were you kissing her? Her of all people."

"Because ...", she wasn’t a part of his life anymore and he was sentimental enough to think of that as sad, right in every way but sad still. Marshall shrugged, "I can kiss whoever I fucking want."

"No, you can’t, asshole. Are you this stupid? You definitely can’t kiss her!" Desperation was gleaming through the anger, through the tears hard fighting not to be cried.

Marshall didn’t want to kiss her, not the way Colson thought. He really didn’t want to kiss anyone but Colson that way. Not necessarily meaning he wouldn’t end up doing something stupid at some point, but right here right now he wanted to kiss Colson, his boyfriend, the person he loved. But it seemed impossible.

Why was this so hard? Just one step, a few words, an apology and this whole thing could be over. But Marshall wasn’t in the wrong here. He hadn’t done anything and nothing that warranted yelling and shouting. Colson needed to make the first step.

But the only step Colson took was towards the hotel room door. "Fine! If you wanna kiss her so badly, do it. Be with her. Try it again with her. But don’t come running to me when you end up being burned again. That’s entirely on you!"

He held him back for a moment. "Don’t leave me, Colson", he said quietly, honestly and kissed him to stay.

Marshall was losing the fight like he always did when it came to love. Once he swore not to allow this shit again, to rather stay alone than let this happen again. But he hated being alone. He wanted to be with somebody who understood, somebody who knew, somebody to seek comfort with when life was getting too much.

But right now he wanted to be with Colson regardless. Perhaps some day the man could be one of those things, there was always hope underneath the pain.

#ask me shit #eminem kisses #kiss prompts #emgk #emgk asks #two idiots fighting #who’s surprised #not me

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