#god. bonus stage is killing me

[kasterarts]

over and over and over and over and over and over and

[ahli-stuff]

The BSD stage play is the REALEST for making Kunikida so playful and unpredictable, he’s like: “HAH I SURPRISED YOU RIGHT, DAZAI? TOTALLY SURPRISED YOU, LOOK AT YOUR FACE!!!” and then offering to hang out after work

If you watch the video, at the very end, it KILLS me when Dazai surprise melts into genuine relieved joy and laughter. Just the last picture doesn’t do it justice, god I love these two

Source

Bonus: Dazai being EXASPERATED by KUNIKIDA

Source

[letorip]

kiss with a fist [ii]

"Blood sticks, sweat drips, break the lock if it don't fit, a kick in the teeth is good for some, a kiss with a fist is better than none"

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: you signed up to help tara with her stupid plan. not whatever the hell one would call this.

warnings: implied sex, use of alcohol, puking, arguing loudly and wrongly, curse words(?)

word count: 5.2k

A/N: sorry to make you wait so long, but here's the second part. there will probably be a third, so fear not, the story doesn't end here. i originally thought i would be able to just end it off right here, but it’s going kind of really well and i think a third or maybe even a fourth part is more reasonable

===+++===

===+++===

For almost the entire walk to the frat house, Tara didn't actually say much. It surprised you too, the way she just glanced around the city that passed as you walked and fiddled with her nails. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but you were so used to Tara having something to say that it made you speak instead.

"Wow, for once, you're speechless," you commented as you passed under a streetlight. Tara shot you a glare, shoving her hands into her jean pockets.

"Would it kill you to shut the hell up?"

“There we go, back to normal. Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird,” she scoffed. “Mind your own business.”

"I'm just saying."

"Well don't say. Don't say."

===+++===

The party fucking sucked. It was quintessential college, with frat boys who attempted to yell over the loud music that rattled your eardrums. Coolers upon coolers of shitty, cheap beer sat against the far wall, and a crowd had gathered around them to pick off all the free alcohol they could. Maybe a year ago this would’ve been fun. Now you found yourself disenchanted with the ordeal.

Tara was off god knows where, doing god knows what, which you figured was the point of the arrangement anyway. You weren’t too concerned with tracking her down, especially if situation also presented itself as a pleasant bonus— not having to put up with her.

Chad had wandered out of the room when he saw you and Tara arrive together hand in hand, going deeper into the party without a word. He was usually the one you hung around with at these kinds of things, but he had been a sad little dog with his tail between his legs since you and Tara announced you were meant to be a few days before the party. It seemed some of your friends were still adjusting.

The immediate reaction after Tara said “soooo, we’re together,” was to laugh, like you two were doing a bit. It got less funny when they saw you both blankly staring back at them and then Tara grabbed your hand and held it up with a forced smile.

The whole group was going through a somewhat awkward seven stages of grief thing. Chad was avoiding you completely, Quinn was a bit annoyed you were off the market now after an egregious few months of hitting on you, and Ethan was the only one to be a bit normal, even though it was clear he too had a crush on Tara and was disappointed with the matter.

When Mindy had gotten over her disbelief, she dove right into an endless game of questions, only occasionally staved off by Anika. "So who confessed first?" had been one of the first ones, accompanied by a glint in her eye. Tara jumped in before you could even open your mouth, eager to answer.

"(Y/n) showed up on my porch, all sweaty and disgusting looking, just smelling so unbelievably bad it was overpowering-”

“I had been working out,” you rolled your eyes. “That’s why I was sweaty."

“Mhm, whatever. Anyways, apparently they were just being such an asshole because they were in love with me," Tara said, with a wide, shit-eating grin. "Right?"

You had to hide your glare behind your solo cup. "Mhm. I was just overflowing with it. I have so many things to say about you."

“All nice things,” Tara corrected.

“Yeah. That’s what I said.”

“Was it?”

“Uh huh.”

Mindy’s questions followed you everywhere she did. Who kissed who first? Who’s more cuddly? Have you guys slept together yet? They volleyed back and forth and you and Tara fought for the first word each time to pin it to the other with gleeful sadism. Of course, it was then flipped around once the next question came and you would huff in annoyance at the other for being an asshole.

It wasn’t as bad of an arrangement as you had dreaded. You only had to be couple-y when other people were watching you two interact, or when Sam would glare in suspicion. Hold hands a few times, smile, share a glance. Other than that, things stayed mostly the same. The group probably appreciated you both not acting head over heels for the other and you liked it because it meant you didn't have to pretend to like her.

Tara had a brazen way about her that made you roll your eyes. She never took no for an answer, had a teasing remark for anything, and always felt the need to be doing something. Other people seemed to find themselves charmed by it. Others, but not you. Never you.

The walk there had been about all she could take of your personality, and the moment after you two were seen together, she ditched you at the door and wandered off to the dance floor. After that you had lost track of her, and ended up splitting your time between the kitchen, the bathroom, and the front room, away from the crowd. Mindy found you there, tugging Anika along with her.

"Cut the bullshit," She said with an eye roll, sitting right down on the couch in front of you. Anika plopped down next to her. "There's no way in hell you got together with Tara."

You grinned, sipping your beer and partially using it to block your expression. "No, we're together. I really like her."

Mindy scoffed. "You're a terrible liar." Your cheeks warmed and you tilted your head to the side.

"We have to separate you two like warring chihuahuas every time we hang out together," Anika said. She leaned forward and narrowed her eyes in a study of your face. "You're not confessing your undying love."

"I did."

"You didn't!" Mindy said, and she threw up her arms.

"I did."

"You didn't," Anika snorted.

"I...," you looked at them both, "...are you guys going to snitch?"

"Snitch to who?" asked Mindy. Now they were both leaned in, like eager children around a campfire. You swallowed.

"Sam." Mindy blinked. Then she sat back.

"What the hell did Tara get you involved in?" she asked. As much as Sam was part of your group, it was known not to fuck with her, and that's exactly what Tara was making you do.

You frowned. If anyone was going to ruin the plan, it probably wouldn't be Mindy or Anika. "You can't tell Chad, but we're not actually together."

Anika raised her eyebrows and shot Mindy a glance. "That didn't take a lot of brain power to figure out." You shrugged.

"Well, we fooled Sam. Tara needs a fake partner so she can go to parties and see people and stuff. And, well, you know how Sam is about that stuff."

Mindy crossed her arms. "And you said sure?"

You shrugged. "I mean, I didn't really see why not. Plus, she was being super annoying about it. Showed up at my house. She was begging, almost."

"So, you what, took pity?" Anika asked, giving you a look. You rolled your eyes.

"Trust me, it's not because it's fun. She's way too annoying and she'd probably say the same thing about me."

Mindy frowned, looking out the doorway and into the booming party. "Chad wouldn't like it."

You sent her a worried look. "Please please please, don't tell Chad. I know he's upset by the whole thing, but Sam would literally kill me if she knew I was helping Tara run around town."

"I don't know...," she said. "I know Tara wants freedom, but this is kind of bullshit, (Y/n)."

"It won't be for long. She just wants to meet someone. When she does, it's over. Life goes back to normal."

"Do you guys have a target in mind, or something?" Anika asked, a bit amused.

"Not even a little a bit. It’s like, her second party ever,” you shrugged. “I don’t know if she’s really dead set on a person yet.”

“Well… she better figure it out soon.”

“Mhm.” You looked out the same glass door and into the booming party outside. Through the jumping crowd, you could see in the distance Tara, who was dancing with her eyes shut and a smile spread wide across her cheeks. She looked happy like that.

You took a swig of your beer.

===+++===

The boom of a fist on your door shook the thin walls of your apartment, and you jolted awake to hear three more hit the wood.

“OPEN UP (Y/N), NOW!”

Immediately, a headache washed over you and you groaned. You tried to smush your head into the pillow to make it go away but there were the banging fists again, and you sat up, letting your legs dangle off the edge.

“OPEN THE FUCK UP,” came the voice again, and you blinked. Oh shit. You knew that voice. You clambered to your feet and stumbled out your bedroom and down the hall in a dusty pair of shorts and shirt. “I’M NOT KIDDING! OPEN THE—”

You pulled the door open like a deer in headlights, seeing Sam seethe on the other side with her fist raised. Nostrils flared, forehead creased, eyes narrowed. She looked about ready to rip your head off.

“You,” she said, spitting the word. You flinched. “Where the fuck is Tara?!”

Shit shit shit shit shit. Had she not gone home the night before?? Things felt a little bit fuzzy still. You remembered grabbing another beer from Ethan and flopping down in an armchair, then another and another, and then maybe wandering home while the sun started to rise. Had you seriously lost track of the attempted murder victim on her first night out???

You blinked, already aware that your cheeks were a dusty pink. "I, uh... she, um..."

Her hands went to her hips, glaring at you expectantly. "Well?! Where the hell is my sister?!" When you were still staring like an idiot, she threw up her arms. "I fucking knew I shouldn't have trusted you with her! This is what I get"

You stared, feeling a lie (though probably a clunky one) come to your brain. "I think her phone must've died, but she just left."

Sam's eyebrows rose, but you weren't sure if it was in disbelief or even more rage. "What do you mean?"

"We, um," your eyes went to the floor, feeling her glare laser itself into you as you spoke. "We got super drunk last night at the party, and I brought her back here and we both fell asleep," you looked back up to see her giving your pyjamas a once over, nose wrinkled. You flushed. "No! No— we didn't do that. We just fell asleep."

Sam looked at you for a moment, then crossed her arms. "I waited all night for her, you know," she said.

You nodded. "I know. I'm so sorry, it won't happen again."

"It won't." Sam repeated. "When I don't hear from her for a whole night, you know what I assume happened, right? You know how that feels?"

You swallowed. "I do."

She sighed. "I'm really trying here. I know she doesn't want me worrying about her, and I know she wants freedom. So I'm trying, (Y/n). Don't make me regret it."

"I won't, Sam." It felt like a giant wedge in your throat, and you tried to smile at her but she continued to frown, and she turned around and walked off. The moment she was gone, you spun around and slammed the door. You dashed through your apartment, grabbing your phone off your nightstand and quickly pulling up her contact.

Little Shit (do not pick up). You pressed the button and put it up to your ear, wandering over to the nearby curtain and lifting it to look out onto the city. "Come on, come on," you pleaded aloud. "Fucking pick up, asshole."

After the third ring and a good prayer to god even though you weren't especially religious, it stopped ringing and you could hear her grumbling.

"Tara??" you rushed. "Tara, where are you?"

"Mmm," she groaned, "the hell do you want so early?"

You scoffed. "Tara it's almost noon." There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"What?"

"Uh huh," you grunted. "Your sister just almost ripped my door off it's fucking hinges because she doesn't know where you are. And you know what, neither do I!" There was some shuffling from her end, and then what sounded like running footsteps.

"I went home with this girl last night, I just woke up," she rushed. "Sam is going to kill me!"

"She almost killed me!" You almost yelled into the phone. Now that the worry had subsided you were left with anger. "She almost killed me because you wandered off and didn't go home."

"It's not like I meant to fall asleep," she argued back, and you could hear some talking in the background in faint voices. "I must've slept through my alarm— wait, what did you tell Sam?"

"That your phone died, and you were on your way home."

"WHAT?! (Y/n), this girl's apartment is at least fifteen to twenty minutes away," Tara said into the phone.

"Well it's not like I knew that, now is it?" you shot back, scratching your arm, "considering I didn't know if you were even alive until you picked up."

"God, not you too. I'm fine, drama queen."

"Drama queen?"

"Yeah, drama queen," Tara repeated, and more noises flooded in. It sounded as if she was in the city now, walking, "you sound just like Sam. I picked you because I thought you knew I didn't need a babysitter."

"That's not being babysat, Tara. That's making sure you're not dead," you rolled your eyes.

"Well, I'm not."

"Good."

"Great."

"Fine!" you shot back.

"Awesome."

You sighed into the speaker. "Pick up some flowers or something on your way back. Claim that's why you're late."

"Good idea, actually," Tara hummed.

"I know." And you hung up.

===+++===

You found yourself at an identical party the very next Friday night too, and the Friday after that, and after that too. The walls were just as stained. It smelled just as full of mold. This one didn't have a front room for you to barricade in, so you sat at the bar top instead, in the kitchen with your chin rested on the cool granite.

It had taken a whole night to get rid of the hangover from a few weeks before, and in doing so you had remembered why it was exactly that you didn't find these things too fun, anyways. You hadn't gotten anywhere near as drunk since. Mindy and Anika had decided on date night instead, and Chad and Ethan were off to watch a movie that originally you would've been invited to, had it not been for Tara.

It was painful, that Chad was ducking you. The irony wasn't lost, that the more time you spent with your fake girlfriend at parties and outings like a couple, the closer you got to actually repairing your relationship with him. You still would've rather gone to the movie, though.

You could actually see Tara, from where you sat. Through the bar window in the kitchen, she was on the dance floor, moving along with the rhythm of hard EDM as best she could. It was a giant mob of people, all clumped up and hopping around in excitement, and you didn't especially want to be out there.

As you watched, a guy came up behind Tara, tapping her on the shoulder and smiling down at her. You thought nothing of it, until you got a longer look at the guy's face. In the revolving, multicoloured lights that hung over the crowd, you recognised him in an instant, standing straight up and weaving your way through the party.

"You having fun, Carpenter?" He asked, with a douche-y smirk on his face as he said it. You rolled your eyes, coming up behind Tara and standing right behind her.

"I—" but you interrupted her.

"She is, Frankie," you shot, staring at him and crossing your arms. Tara whipped around to you with a glare.

"(Y/n), go away," she whispered loudly. But you stood your ground.

"Tara, literally anyone but him. I mean, anyone—"

"That's not your decision."

"Sam tased him in the balls last time. I mean, come on, you have to know he's a douche."

Frankie scoffed. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"(Y/n) is just a—"

"—We're dating," you interrupted again. "So fuck off."

"No, we aren't," Tara shook her head. "Not really."

"Yes, we are," you nodded at Frankie. "Please leave. She's not sleeping with you tonight." He frowned, but started to walk off.

"That's not your decision, asshole!" Tara scowled and she reached out an arm to stop him. "Frankie, stay. You know what, I wasn't going to, but I will now."

"Frankie, leave. I mean it, you creep." You turned to her and glared. "Tara, listen to me, you—"

"No! Frankie, stay. Maybe I need the company," she shot back, narrowing her eyes. Frankie looked between you both, as did a few other people in the room who were starting to notice.

"They literally call him Date-Rape-Frankie, Tara. There's no way in hell you're sleeping with Date-Rape-Frankie. Frankie, leave."

"Frankie, no, stay. Well, what if I want to?"

"Then you're being stupid."

"Bold choice of words coming from you! You're not my mother."

"I'm not trying to be your mom, Tara. I'm using basic common sense. That guy is a creep and a perv," you pointed to him.

"Hey!" Frankie interjected, raising a hand to your shoulder.

"Fuck off!" you and Tara said in unison, dismissing him to glare right at each other.

"Well maybe I deserve the freedom to sleep with weirdos and whoever I want! I mean, who are you, the fucking sex-Nazi?"

"I don't have a problem with literally anyone else, Tara, but he's a weirdo!"

"Well then let me make that call! I'm not five. You don't need to baby me, I know he's a weirdo!" People were definitely staring now. You were both shouting, but a lot of it was drowned out by the EDM. It didn't stop others watching you point in each others faces and scowl.

"It's not babying you, Tara! It's basic caring! You have no clue about this shit, this is like your fourth party ever!"

"I've managed this far, haven't I?!"

"What, you want a cookie?!"

"Yeah, maybe I fucking do! I'm an adult, asshole! Let me do adult shit!"

"Wow, it's so adult and mature of you, to sleep with creeps and get hungover every Friday. How adult."

"Well, maybe it's not, but who gives a shit! I'm having fun for once! I'm being free without a fucking serial killer on my ass! I know you can't relate, but Christ, take the stick out from your ass!"

"Real nice," you shook your head. "This is what I get for helping you. Of fucking course." Before she could reply, you turned around and headed out the sliding glass door, into the fenced-in backyard. There was a pool back there, and you collapsed into a wrought iron pool chair, right near the edge.

People watched you warily, as you sat out there, but within minutes, the party was resumed. Even from outside, you could hear the thumping bass shake the windows gently as the glass moved in the panes.

There was a faint scent of petrichor from the small patch of grass out there, and the sky rumbled in the distance. It was peaceful out there, with small hanging fairy lights and the pool in front of you. You propped your legs up on the glass table and tried not to scream.

This was exactly what you should've expected, from Tara. Of course she would be selfish. Of course she would be brash. A part of you wasn't surprised. Disappointed, sure. But not surprised. You just sat there and tried to cool your breathing, watching the city lights in front of you.

You must've sat like that for an hour or two, just watching the city. It didn't feel like long enough. You might've even felt at peace, until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"Um...excuse me?" You craned your neck around, looking up in your chair to see a concerned guy looking down at you.

"Are you (Y/n)?" He asked, awkwardly scratching his neck. You nodded, confused.

"Uh, yeah? Do we know each other?"

"No! No, I was asked by Tara, I think was her name? She wanted me to get you. She's your girlfriend, right?"

The worry came back, and you stood up. "Why, what happened? Where is she?" Sam was really going to kill you.

"She's in the guest bathroom, I think she's sick."

===+++===

"Tara?"

"(Y/n)?" you heard a very uneasy voice on the other end.

"Can I come in?" you asked, and when there was no response, you let yourself inside. She was on the other end of the massive bathroom, leaned up against the bathtub with her head close to the toilet bowl.

Tara looked absolutely green, with her hair sweatily stuck to her forehead and eyes barely open. "Christ Tara, how much did you have to drink?" you asked in worry, coming to stand over her.

"Oh, just—" she gagged like she was about to puke and you bent down to grab her and tug her towards the toilet bowl. You spun back to the guy in the doorway, who stared at you both with wide eyes.

"Can you get me some crackers and Gatorade?" you asked him, sending a hopeful glance. He nodded and closed the door, and you turned back to Tara, who was bent over the toilet bowl.

You moved her gently and lifted the toilet seat up. "Are you okay?" you asked with a frown. You felt like an idiot the moment it left your mouth.

She raised her eyebrows. "Do I look okay?" Tara mumbled.

"Well, no."

"Thass' good," she slurred. "I had too many," she hiccupped. You nodded.

"I'd say so. How much did you have Tara?"

She giggled. "This many." She held up four fingers with a giant, toothy grin and slumped with her arms encircling the toilet bowl.

"Since when?" you blinked.

"Since you got allllllllll pissy!" You sighed, hands going to her hair and pulling it back. She wrinkled her nose at you. "Why are you touching my hairrrrr?!"

"So you don't vomit all on it, idiot," you replied, shaking your head. Tara huffed.

"I'mnuh gonnuh puke."

And then Tara puked. Everywhere.

===+++===

You both sat there, that way, for about ten minutes. Tara vomited three times, during that span, and when she was done, you handed her the crackers and Gatorade and told her to do her worst.

She downed them in another fifteen minutes, sitting in the bathtub and eating while you sat leaned up against the bathroom wall, across from her, just in silence. The sounds of the party seemed to have died a little bit as the night droned on, and by now people would be wandering home or to someone else’s place.

While you waited, you shot Sam a text, letting her know you’d bring Tara home and that she was okay. Sam didn’t reply but she saw the message, and you figured that was good enough. When you checked the weather app, Tara finally spoke, coming to her senses a bit with more food in her system.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, staring down at the package for the crackers in her hand. “Thanks.”

You shrugged, staring at the toilet in front of you. It probably reeked in there, but at this point you were nose blind. “For what?” You meant for that to be it, just a small little acknowledgment, but Tara shook her head.

“Thank you for that. For being here.”

She stared right at you when she said it, and you knew she meant it with conviction. You nodded. “I know we don’t always get along, but I had your back, back there.”

“You have my back?” she asked, smiling a little and grabbing her Gatorade from the edge of the tub.

“I agreed to help you, didn’t I?”

She paused for a moment, then nodded. “You did, yeah.” Tara looked over at you, then tilted her head to the side. “I still don’t get why, though.”

“You were honest, for once.” It came from a surprising place, and you said it before you entirely knew you were speaking. You didn’t completely know what it meant either, until after you said it, but the words passed between you almost like a new understanding.

A few moments of silence came and went, before she spoke again. “I walk silently places at night in case I hear I’m being followed. By Ghostface. Same thing as when I’m home alone. I don’t do it as much anymore, but I still do it sometimes. Don’t tell Sam, please please please. She’ll make me go to therapy.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding gently. You leaned your head back up against the wall, craning it up to look at the ceiling.

“Why are you being nice to me?” She asked. You laughed, tracing the popcorn pattern of the roof with your eyes.

“I’m not the devil, Tara.”

“…Neither am I.”

“I know,” you said, and you reached your arm out for a cracker. She gave you one and you crunched down on it, while an especially large bass hit came from the speakers outside. “God, this music fucking sucks,” you groaned.

Tara nodded. “It’s really hard to dance to.”

“Well,” you shrugged, “it didn’t seem like you were struggling earlier.”

Tara frowned, then tilted her head in curiosity. “What’s your favourite song?”

You raised your eyebrows in amusement. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” she said.

“Okay… you’re going to laugh, though.”

“Am I?” she grinned. You nodded.

“Do you know that one song, The Promise, by When In Rome? It’s from the 80s, it’s super cheesy?”

She stared off for a moment, in thought, then shook her head. “Don’t think so, how’s it go?”

You rolled your eyes, but began to quietly sing it in a tone that wavered in between spoken word and humming. It was terrible and you were tone deaf, but it was the song. “If you need a friend, don’t look to a straaanger. You know in the end,” your voice broke a little at the low note, and Tara giggled but you continued, “I’ll always be thereee.”

“Wow.”

“Mhm. And then it skips a little bit and the chorus goes, ‘I’m sorry but I’m just thinking of the right words to say, I know they don’t sound the way I planned them to beee.’”

She cut you off with her hand, laughing hysterically. You felt your cheeks flushed, and in any other time you would’ve been annoyed with her laughing at you. But this didn’t feel mean. You just smiled right back.

“That was good, actually,” she managed, between small laughs. “Why is it your favourite?”

“Um,” you shrugged, “my brother used to sing it to me, years ago when I was scared.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Tara said, leaning her head on the tile wall of the tub.

“I have six.”

She blinked, then sat up straight. “Since when?!”

“Always, Carpenter,” you shrugged. “Everyone knows.”

“Everyone who?”

“Chad, Mindy, Anika. Even Quinn.”

“I didn't know. How come you never talk about them?”

”I just don’t,” you frowned. Tonight was definitely not the night to get into that. Instead, you pivoted topics. “Why, what’s your favourite song? I showed you mine, now you’ve got to show me yours.”

“I’m ninety nine percent sure that’s not how that saying is used,” she laughed, “but fine. When I was crying as a baby, my mom sung me this song, called Baby, I Love You by The Ronettes.”

“Don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

Tara shook her head. “Probably not, but they’re the same group that does that one song Be My Baby?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Apparently my mom had Baby, I Love You playing in the hospital, when I was born and everything. It’s kind of comforting. When I miss her, I play it.”

“How often is that?”

She shrugged. “More than you’d think, considering she’s a giant asshole.”

"That's always how it is."

"Mhm... and just so you know, I know Frankie was a creep. I wasn't actually going to do anything with him. Just flirt. Have fun."

"I know. I wasn't trying to babysit you, I just wanted to warn you. That creep has so many stories."

"I know. I just don't like being told what to do, sometimes. It's a whole thing. I'm working on it, seriously."

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t say anything at all. You both sat in what you assumed was a prolonged silence, until you looked down finally to see Tara’s eyelids falling heavy.

You stood up with a sigh. “You should go home.” There was no reply, and you checked out the small window in the bathroom to still see it was pitch black out. It was definitely too late to send her home this sleepy, and after the incident a few weeks ago, there was no way Sam would let her stay at yours. “Tara,” you nudged her.

She groaned, rolling over in the tub and snuggling up. You rolled your eyes, then looked out the window one more time with an annoyed grumble.

===+++===

The longer you had to walk with her on your back, the more you regretted this. Her arms were wrapped around your neck, face pressed onto the back of your shoulder and knees held up by your hands. You couldn’t see her, but you knew her eyes were shut and she was super close to being actually asleep.

"We make a good team, you know," she mumbled into your shoulder. You knew she was being funny, but you were too tired to laugh as you trudged up the hill. Carrying a drunk girl home was not at all what you had anticipated of the night, and though it had been shitty at the beginning and shitty until almost the very end, you could definitely say it wasn't shitty right then.

When you arrived at her apartment complex, Tara was soundly asleep and Sam came out to meet you both, taking her sister from you and stumbling with her towards the door. In the distance, right over another hill, the sky was already beginning to lighten up a bit.

Right as both Carpenters reached the door, Tara stopped for a moment to turn back to you with a smile. "Thanks, babe," she said with a cheeky grin that was only half awake. You smiled back.

"You too, babe."

Sam rolled her eyes, pulling Tara through the door. It was a pleasant night, still with the same faint scent of rain oncoming. In your weird, newfound peace as you walked home yourself, you didn't see that Quinn was watching you from the upstairs window.

===+++===

so that was fun lmao. anyways there will be a part 3 but you and tara are kind of maybe friends now? now it's time for feelings 😈

[amirasainz]

Could you write where baby!sainz is a performer like Beyoncé or Megan Thee Stallion and she just went on tour and one of her songs she gives out a lap dance and one of the younger drivers (Lance/Logan/Zhou/Oscar) is the one getting lap dance and everyone else is jealous

Or since Lando has filmed a couple of videos with the sidemen maybe one of the boys flirt with her or get her in a sidemen Sunday where they’re her butlers for a day/week or they’re doing a 20 vs 1 and the boys are apart of the 20 and they’re wives/gfs are fangirling

Hope those made sense

Sooo, I never saw Megan Thee Stallion's performance. However, I adjusted things, so.....Enjoy!!! Let me know if you have any whishes!

-XoXo

No Part 2!!!

She's dancing like a stripper

Oscar couldn't believe it. Bright lights blinded him, the screams of the thousands of fans making his ears ring. The metal chair he was sitting on was vibrating from the guitar bass. Everything was starting to become too much, when his vision was filled with an angel. She was starring at him, a playful smile on her lips. Instead of wearing her sparkly dress, she now wore a skimpy outfit. Her high-heels brought her closer to him, her hands landing softly on his shoulders.

"Sidney, are you ready for the final?" Amira asked, turning her upper body towards the screaming crowd. The yelled so loud, that Amira slightly winced from the volume. "Because this was such an requested song, I will now sing "Favourite". But as you all know, this song has a special dance as well. And who could help me better, than our home-boy Oscar?" The crowd went wilde. They all knew that "special dance" was just a sweeter term for lap dance.

When the music picked up, Oscar's hands started sweating. Amira slowly lowered herself on his lap, his veiny hands immediately landing on her tights. When she started rocking herself on his lap, a low groan left his lips. Amira's hands brought his head closer to her breast. Before he could get too lost in his thoughts, Amira went of his lap.

She walked three steps away from him, some pf her backup dancers following her. She fell on her knees, spreading her legs. Two of her backup dancers, Sarah and Cheyenne, touched her body from behind. Sarah was busy touching her upper body, while Cheyenne ran her hands on the inside of her tights. Both of the girls brought their heads closer to the girl. Because their breaths tickled her, she had to laugh slightly.

When the refrain started, she crawled on her hands a bit, giving Oscar the perfect view of her ass. She lied on her upper body, ass in the air, when she turned on her back. Amira arched her back, spreading her legs once again. 'God, she's killing me here' was Oscars only thought. He gripped the armrest tightly when he saw Amira approaching again.

This time she sat down on his lap with her back turned towards his. She brought one of his hands very, very close to her privat parts, while she brought the other one on her neck. Her hand fisted his hair, brining him to her neck. Before he could stop himself, Oscar started kissing her neck. He slowly trailed his lips to her cheeks, moaning quietly in her ear. After a moment he realised that her hip movement spelled the word "coconut". God, this girl was truly something else.

When the song neared his end, Amira turned her face to Oscar, Their lips where close to touching. Before something more could happen, the roar of the crowd interrupted their little moment. Amira got up and smiled at all of the fans. She turned to Oscar, hugging him and whispering her thanks. With a Ferrari red face, Oscar left the stage. He really needed a cold shower now.

Bonus (+)

"No, this is unfair. This is so fucking unfair" muttered Logan, his eyes fixed on the couple on stage. Lando was standing next to him, his mouth agape. How the fuck did his teammate get so lucky? Shouldn't he, as the older one of the two, be the one to receive the lap dance? Charles, George, Alex and Pierre were busy filming the whole thing for their girlfriends, while also enjoying the show. Yuki as well enjoyed the show, while snacking on some crisps. All of them were so intrudged that they let out some noise of complaint when the show ended. After a moment, George stated: "Thank fuck that Carlos is sick today", receiving nods from the others.

[knavesflames]

Yes. Write it :)

As promised😌

Fem Balletdancer! Reader x Arlecchino ;)

Contents: fingering, in a public space but they don’t get caught, slight choking (a tiny bit), tears, praise, but very slight degradation (in a loving way) arlecchino is possessive (and lowkey jealous)

Word count: 1263

Nsfw under the cut!<3

Breathing heavily after yet another performance, you stare out into the crowd. You keep your face still, but your eyes can’t help but light up when you see the familiar figure front and center in the crowd, clapping loud and slow. She stays seated while everyone files out of the opera epiclese, her stoic face disrupted by the hint of a smirk.

“Very fun, love.”

You finally move from your ending position, letting your fingers gently bounce on your costume— a beautiful white lace bodice with rhinestones that shine oh so perfectly in the light, complete with a white tutu, because what ballerina can dance without a tutu? You grin a thank you, stretching your feet that are still clad with your pointe shoes.

Finally catching your breath, you hear the familiar clack of her heels walking across the floor and up the stairs to the stage as you take a seat on one of the props. Your ballet partner nods and hastily runs off, not wanting the potential wrath of Arlecchino, because what if his hands were too close to your waist for her liking? What if he held you for a second too long? Her smirk disappears when she sees him run off, a quiet mutter of “coward” under her breath as she walks towards you. Her own hands dance up your waist, her breath coming close to your ear.

“I don’t like him.”

You can’t help but roll her eyes at her jealous streak, one she’d never admit she has.

“You say that with every partner I’ve had.”

Her voice takes on a sharper tone, not by much, but you can tell she’s serious, and you can’t help but try to contain a shudder.

“They’re not me.”

You plant a soft kiss on her jaw as you reassure her that you do not, in fact, feel anything towards them. Her lips twitch into a frown, and her hand grabs your wrist, a tight grip that can only be possessiveness, her voice practically a snarl.

“It’s not you I’m worried about. I know you’re mine. It’s them. You’re gorgeous, and they get to be close to you. I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried anything.”

“They don’t.”

Her other hand moves to gently grip your chin, keeping you looking at her. She enjoys watching your face flush when she does it, and if anyone were to walk in, well, isn’t that a bonus? She gets to showcase that you’re hers and nobody else’s.

“They better not. I’ll kill them the second they’re too touchy.”

“Stop it—“

Before you can protest anymore, she’s only gone and bent you over the damn prop, a small wooden table. Your tutu flares upward, which earns a low, throaty chuckle from Arlecchino.

“You’re cute with this tutu. You’re lucky it’s expensive or I’d rip it off you. You’re not only cute, you’re mine.”

She feels your breath hitch as her hand travels up your thigh before she removes it, only to have it landing down roughly on your ass. Her fingers caress smoothly where the slap landed, soothing the sting, and my god is she glad you can’t see her and her wicked grin when you yelp. Her nails, long and sharp (you’re lucky she files two of them down), slice through your tights and leotard with one simple movement, causing you to whine.

“Arlie, these were expensive.”

“Shut up, I’ll buy you new ones.”

“But—“

“Would you like to cum? Then be quiet.”

With a whimper, you comply. With her one hand on your back, holding you down against the table, her other hand traces around your slit, so carefully avoiding touching you where you want to. Your hips buck back in an attempt to force her hand where you want them, which earns another slap on your ass and a yelp from you.

Your voice echoes around the now empty opera epiclese, which makes you so painfully aware of the fact anyone could walk in.

“What if someone comes in?”

“I’ll kill them if they do.”

“Arlecchino.”

“Fine. They won’t.”

With her fingers finally dipping into you, a soft moan leaves your lips.

“Good girl. So wet for me, it’s almost like you want to get caught. Lift your leg.”

Seeing your confused look, she taps your thigh, almost commanding you to lift it.

“You’re flexible enough. You can arabesque and développé everywhere. Lift your leg.”

You bite your lip, but lift your leg anyway, wrapping it around her waist for support. She knows you’re able to stay like that, and she relishes in how easy it is to touch you with your legs the way they are, so she uses it to her advantage.

Her fingers dip into you once again, teasing you mercilessly. Pretending like she’s sliding her sharp nails into you, making you whimper in nervousness, but she’s not that cruel. She slips two fingers inside of you (the ones with the filed nails, thank god), groaning softly when she feels you suck her fingers in. You let out a quiet moan that echoes once more as her fingers card through your hair, untangling it from the elegant hairdo you had while dancing. With a gentle flick of her wrist, your hair is wrapped around her fist, giving it gentle tugs.

Her fingers pump into you, slowly, then faster when your cute sounds only confirm you want to keep going. The hand in your hair tugs harder, lifting you from the table and pressing your back against her. Once she’s satisfied with your position, her hand moves. The hand once weaves into your hair moves to your exposed throat, squeezing gently and chuckling at your choked moans and the tears forming in your eyes.

“Not so scared someone will walk in now, hm? You’re so confident on stage, I thought you’d like someone walking in to see you turn into a fucked out whore. My fucked out whore. Do you hear me? Not his. He’s lucky I don’t rip his head off for looking at you the way he does.”

Her grip loosens enough to let you speak, grinning when she hears your cute little mumbles of agreement, feeling the way your pussy clenches around your fingers as she curls them, hitting the spongy spot inside you just perfectly.

Your tutu and your pointe shoes, which are still on your body (for a reason, because she’ll never admit how much it turns her on seeing you like that), are long forgotten by you. Your brain is focused on one thing, and she knows exactly what— chasing the orgasm she knows she’s giving you. Your voice rings out, stuttering and punctuated by moans.

“Cu-cumming, I’m-“

Her velvety voice whispers in your ear, her lips travelling down your shoulder before giving a quick bite that sends you over the edge.

“Good girl, cum for me.”

It’s all you need as you clench around her fingers and tremble, your position finally failing you. Her arm is quick to catch you before you fall against the table, her body leaning over yours as she soothes you, guiding you through each wave of pleasure. Her fingers pump inside just a little more, slowing to a stop before pulling out. Her fingers glisten with your slick in the stage lighting, and she moves her fingers ever so slightly, if only to showcase how messy you made her fingers. She smirks, her stoic demeanour almost back into place as she stares at you, her tongue flicking out to clean her own digits.

“You always taste so good, little dove. Want to go home and clean up, hm?”

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters Try to Guess Which of Them Hoid is Imitating

As requested by anon. :)

It's like charades, only it's Hoid alone doing the acting, and also he's allowed to speak. He's gonna be imitating various Cosmere characters, and let's see if the other characters in that novel can guess who he is!

1. Stormlight Archive

Hoid: [face settles into a deep scowl] Hoid: [crosses his arms] Hoid: Bah! Shallan & Adolin (simultaneously): Kaladin!!! Hoid: Correct! Kaladin: H-HEY

2. Mistborn Era 1

Hoid: [smiles] Hoid: [smiles] [Smoke begins to rise up around him, as though everything is burning down. Faintly, in the distance, the sounds of screams] Hoid: [smiles] Vin (already crying): K-Kelsier! Hoid: [motions for her to hold on a second] Hoid: [punches himself square in the face] Vin: ... Hoid: Yup! That's Kelsier!

3. Tress of the Emerald Sea

Hoid: [crouches down, begins speaking to a member of the audience as though already in mid-conversation] ...and anyway, that's why I think we will make very good friends. Hoid: Wait! Hoid: Is that something dangerous I see? Hoid: I simply MUST make it my new hobby! Charlie, delighted: It's Tress!

4. Stormlight Archive

[Hoid, lying very still on the ground] [Hoid, lying very still on the ground] Adolin: Uh...Sadeas? Kaladin: Are you one of the bridges? Syl: You're a rock!! [Hoid, lying very still on the ground] [Gradually, the sound of ocean waves come from...somewhere. The temperature seems to drop. People's breath fog the air. Still, Hoid lies very motionless on the ground] Shallan: [sighs] Shallan: Stick. Hoid: Correct!

5. Elantris

Hoid: O-Oh? Am I not allowed to talk in charades? Hoid: I'm very sorry, Your Majesty! As a simple woman, all I know how to do is eat hot chip and lie. Iadon: Ugh, Sarene. Hoid: [fixes his hair using only the middle fingers on both hands] Hoid: So smart, Your Majesty!

6. Mistborn Era 2

Hoid: [Pulls his hand up from his hip with his fingers making a gun shape] Wax: Well, that could be literally anyone. Wayne: 'Cept me. Wax: Except you. Hoid [Pulls up his other hand from his hip with his fingers making a gun shape. Now he has two guns] Wax: Again, that could be anyone. Hoid: [Mimics putting both guns back. Reaches down as if to pull something from his belt, which he mimics swigging. Grabs the air in front of his forehead as if adjusting a hat] Wax: Okay, okay, we get it! It's me! Steris: No, no, I want him to keep going.

7. Warbreaker

[Hoid lies half reclined, one arm dangling, mimicking the lazy eating of grapes] Siri: Okay! We know it's one of the Returned! Lightsong: That could be literally any of us. [Hoid, slowly pulls up the hem of his skirt until his thighs are exposed. Winks] Blushweaver: Yes! It's ME! Siri: W-Why am *I* blushing??

8. Stormlight Archive

Hoid: [raising both arms to the heavens] SCIENCE! Navani: Raboniel! Raboniel: Navani! [They look at each other] Hoid: ... Hoid: Uh....SCIENCE and LOVING MY DAUGHTER! Navani: Raboniel!! Raboniel: Navani!! [They look at each other] Hoid: Hmmm...SCIENCE and LOVING MY DAUGHTER and KILLING GOD!!! Navani: ...You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?

[Bonus!]

9. ???

[Ulaam walks onto the stage. He waves. He's wearing bedazzled, tiny red shorts, a flowered shirt, and mismatched socks with sandals] Ulaam: [opens his mouth to speak] Hoid: [tackles him off the stage]

[lesinquietes]

Imagine being a hero working with the HPSC and being assigned to target Dabi, but then hero society goes down the drain and you’re captured by the PLF 💀

Tw; burning, death (minor), noncon (implied), sex slavery

You slowly become his arch nemesis (after endeavour ofc you can’t compete with familial hatred), showing up at damn near every large event he’s involved in, making sure he feels the weight of your presence. And he does. You can tell by the way his lips twitch into a devious smirk as he engages his quirk and tries to fry you. Your persistence frustrates him; you just don’t give up. Bonus points if you have an ice quirk because we all know what that’ll do to his poor, traumatized brain.

But then, when the Paranormal Liberation Front turns the land into a dystopian paradise, you fall as their prisoner. You fight as hard as you can. You think it’s over when you lose consciousness. Unfortunately, you wake up on a makeshift stage, instead, with others of your ilk, bound and vulnerable. There’s a sea of villains spectating around you, jeering, booing, and cackling at your state. It’s then that you realize you’re either going to be killed or auctioned off.

When Dabi steps forward, cracking his knuckles and grinning at you with steam billowing from his sickly grafts, you know you’re fucked. You witness a different side of his persona. It’s darker — eviler, perhaps. The way his eyes trace up and down your form unnerves you. There’s something haunting about his gaze, and you only find out what it is when he takes your chin in his warm hand and forces you to stare at him. The noise in the room rests as everyone observes what the tyrannical Todoroki plans to do with you. Only you register the lust in his azure irises.

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve been waiting for this moment, you bitch.”

And for a second, you think it’s bloodlust; you think he’s going to fucking kill you. You think, in this room full of rancid spectators — in this lineup of other heroes who are slated to be auctioned off or executed — he’s going to make an example of you. You flinch when he ignites his blue flames and incinerates everyone. You bite your tongue to stay yourself from screaming as the heat licks your flesh, causing a thick sweat to coat your skin. You taste blood. Suddenly, all your comrades are dead, and you’re the only one left. Opening your eyes and coming into your new reality takes several moments.

Dabi doesn’t cremate you alive; he spares you. And he makes sure you understand your new purpose.

He declares, to the witnesses, that you are to be his concubine. He encourages them to find their own nemeses and repeat the process, as there’s no greater joy than breaking your enemy in all possible ways. You feel yourself shrink as he speaks, your heart plummeting from towering heights with his cryptic ideologies.

When he’s done, and the space is filled with roaring and cheering, he twists his head to drink in your figure once more. You’re covered in bruises, scratches, and gashes. Your clothes are ripped and you look like a fucking mess. Not to him, though; not when he’s been dying to get his scarred hands on your perfect body, all for the purpose of absolutely soiling you. To think, he actually wanted you dead at one point, when this type of revenge is far more satisfying.

“You’re gonna regret being an annoyance these last few months.” He promises you, tone saccharine to match the grin on his sparse lips. “Can’t wait to make you feel every grain of fucking stress you caused me.”

He could have lied to you, and that would have been enough to strike a fear of God through you. He could have deceived you and the audience about his reason for claiming you; after all, he would be praised for doing away with one of your kind. But as he takes you away from your dead, incinerated comrades, the scent of death sticking to you like cigarette smoke, you come to understand that he doesn’t make false vows; he does precisely as he says he’s going to do, re: getting revenge on his dad.

He keeps you locked in his private room, away from everyone else. He secures a new quirk-canceling collar around your neck and leashes you to the bed. Your wrists are pinned behind you and your curious eyes are concealed to disorient you. Of course, after rendering you useless, the next thing he does is incinerate your clothes. When you scream at the sensation of fire scorching your skin, living in horror for only a split second as your garments turn to ash, he cackles. He rationalizes that sex slaves don’t need garments, and that if he’s feeling kind, he might use his quirk to keep you warm. You’ll have to beg, though.

Fat chance, you think. Begging is weakness. Begging is forfeiting your status as a hero. Begging is fucking pathetic. You may have been defeated, but you resolve that he won’t vanquish your spirit. Much to your chagrin, that’s Dabi’s entire mission. He wants to break you. He wants to crumple you into something shapeable, so he can comfort your essence into what he wants it to be. The problem with Todorokis is that cruelty seems to come naturally to the most powerful of them. The moment you started causing him grief is the moment to knew he wanted to dominate you.

He snatches you by the hair and reels you in. Then, his face is mere centimetres from yours. The subtle scent of rotting, burning flesh is putrid. The only thing that stops you from gagging is the cologne he uses — that makes him smell like a dewy forest. He grins, steam wafting from his mouth, as though he’s going to explode into flames at any second.

“Should I start with branding you, or teaching your body who it belongs to?” He asks rhetorically, both of you knowing damn well he won’t give you a say in the matter.

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

How do you think Christian Cage would react to someone dissing his wife y/n in a promo?

Lover

What happens when the rivalry between Christian Cage and Adam Copeland goes too far and causes Adam to say some controversial unscripted things about Y/n and the Patriarchy

word count: 1K+

Main Masterlist Christian Cage Masterlist

I currently sat in my private locker room with Killswitch, Nick Wayne, my wife Y/n and our baby girl Madaline. The five of us sat in a comfortable silence as we watched Collison on the tv in the locker room. Looking around the room I felt a fuzzy feeling in my chest, I was surrounded by my beautiful dysfunctional family. The people I loved most. I was distracted from my thoughts when I heard Y/n and Nick start to boo at the screen. I looked to find my former best friend turned arch rival Adam Copeland on the screen. Copeland had been on my ass for months, ever since he arrived in AEW he wouldn't leave me or my family alone. I was on my last straw with him, what else could he want from me. I already beat him TWICE, for god sakes he put my son through a flaming table! He has no right to be demanding another title shot, he is undeserving. 

I watched as Adam walked to the ring microphone in hand, what the hell did he want now. 

“I am sick and tired of Christian Cage and the Patrarchy, all they do is cheat. If it wasn’t for Y/n and her tricks I would be standing here as your TNT Champion. Speaking of Y/n I don’t think you know this but in real life her and Christian Cage are married. Yeah, let that sink in for a moment. I guess Christian Cage really does have a thing for fatherless wrestlers, bonus points if they are way younger than he is.” 

I could feel my blood boiling as I heard the words fall from Adams mouth. I looked to Y/n and she was in shock like the rest of us. “I mean she is 20 years younger than him! But hey who am I to judge, if I was Christian Cage I would do the same thing. I mean have you seen her, damn. Christian you better watch out because once I take your title I’m going to take your controversally young wife. Which by the way you only married because you knocked her up, nice job having a newborn at 50” 

At this point I was livid, I wanted to kill Adam Copeland, how dare he talk about my family like that. For someone who gets so mad when someone brings up his family it’s ironic how he has no problem talking about other peoples relationships. 

“While I’m at it did you know the the age gap between Nick Wayne and Y/n is significantly lower than her’s with Christian, Gross. Y/n if a filty who-” Just then his mike was cut

That was the final straw, I stormed out of my private locker room and ran to the stage. I was going to make him pay. I knew this was probably a trap but I didn’t care, my adrenaline was pumping. I jumped on top of Adam and beat the bloody hell out of him for real. He tried to cover himself from my blows but they did nothing. I was able to get a good amount of shots in before security pulled me off of him. “I’m going to fucking kill you! What the fuck is your problem huh!” I yelled to Adam as security held us apart. The audience was shocked, they could tell that this wasn’t a work, for god sakes they cut off his mike before he did any more damage. My adrenaline was still pumping and I knew I coudn’t let Adam have the last word, especially after he disrespected my wife. I managed to steal a microphone that thankfully worked. 

“What the hell is your problem. You disgust me, how dare you speak of my wife and family like that. I think you are jealous of me. You have a boring marriage that has no love, you are married to an old hag who can’t even sleep in the same bed as you. Can’t you accept that I am just better than you, I have a better life, a better wife, I am the TNT champion god dammit. Just acceppt it and move on, and speaking of cheating just go home and beg your wife to forgive you for cheating on her AGAIN. Now I’ll admit that I am an asshole but I would never so something like that to the woman I love. Oh and I dare you to talk about Y/n again, next time I will make sure to kill you” 

With that I left, security escorted me backstage and out of the building. I didn’t even care of the consequences I could possibly face, I was proud of defending my family. On my way out I saw all the wrestlers backstage comforting Y/n who was understandably very upset. It warmed my heart to see.

***

A day has passed since the incident with Adam Copeland and myself on Collision. Like I assumed everyone was talking about it. Considering in this rivalry I am the bad guy Y/n and myself had received nothing but support during the whole situation. People were turning on Adam for his actions, being disgusted with what he said. AEW made the decision to give Copeland a four week suspension along with making him put out an public apology. The following is a total BS apology from Adam Copeland;  

*I would like to sincerely apologise to Y/n, Christian Cage, AEW and the fans for my actions on Saturday. What I said was truly uncalled for. I apologise to everyone who was offended with my words. I take full responsibility for my actions and will continue to work on being a better person. - Rater R Superstar Adam Copeland* 

What a total jerk. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that” I told Y/n as the two of us lied in bed, mutaly deciding we would spend the day rotting in bed after what happened not even 24hrs ago. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t know he was going to say that” She told me reassuringly “I know but what he said was fucked up. I love you so much, like so so much. I would do anything for you Y/n” I told her as I began to place delicate kisses on her neck. “What are you doing?” Y/n said playfully 

“Showing you how much I love you” 

[kanmom51]

Jikook - what we see is what we get

When we get to see it.

Not seeing it doesn't mean it's not there though.

Was sitting today BTS songs just playing in the background while I'm working on my post. All this shit just happening around us, around JK and JM (yes, JM is part of it, he's also affected by it all), and The truth untold comes up.

This version:

One of, if not their best performance imo. The emotion just pouring out of them.

This song. It kills me every single time. Brings me to tears every single time. JM turned away from JK singing "and I still want you" in every performance. Well, other than their last 3 in Seoul, changed by them, performed by them, ending facing each other JM singing "but I still want you". Defiant.

All about the need to wear that mask to hide your true self for fear you might not be loved for who you truly are, that you might be seen as ugly, a monster. And the two of them, changing the staging, turning to each other, looking into each other's eyes, while changing the "and" to "but I still want you"... do people understand this? The enormity of this moment?

And then this song comes up, this performance:

This was on day 2, while on day 3 we had this:

Omg, my YT logarithm is trying to kill me today.

And got me thinking about this moment we got on day 3 as well.

This love, people, this chemistry, us not seeing it as often for the lack of BTS ot7 content doesn't mean is gone. It's very much still there. We just aren't as lucky to be able to see them in that one frame as often or even at all. But when we do, there is no denying it. Even if it's for the shortest of moments.

We saw it in 2020 (have people forgot memories 2020 for god sake?)

We saw it in 2021

So much more, so little image allowance... But you can find it all in my masterlist.

We saw it throughout 2022 in their Seoul and LV PTD concerts.

And in JITB even if briefly,

And in Busan and Run BTS episodes.

And we even got a little touch of it in 2023, when there was no way of keeping them out of the frame, like in Jhope's enlistment BTB, D-Day in Seoul and even when not being in one frame, in those lives we got to enjoy when the one joined the other in their comments and even without the other even making that kind of appearance.

Letter, goddamnit.

Oh and then we had JM literally flying across the world to be with JK for his Solo debut (if only GMA concert wasn't cancelled, damn it), and them dipping off for their 4 day private trip in CT.

It's sad how short people's memories are. Really. I am reading all sorts of fanfictions being put forward as "this is what happened with Jikook over the years", stating facts that are not facts, creating non existent drama, because people love the drama.

This is a loving couple in a long term relationship. You know, that boring kind. The stable, loving, filled with respect and no drama. The one where one supports their partner when they are struggling. One where just being with each other is fulfilling (cough JK coming to JM's room in LA just to be with him in the same room for hours cough).

Funny how people are talking about them breaking up 2020-21 during the pandemic when JK literally had a slip of the tongue spilling the beans they live together, they are one household, in Run BTS episode 142 they were each gifted a knife. JK all proud and piping up "we got 2"...

JM just sitting there all quiet, smirk on his face.

Stories about breakups. Stories about sexually experimenting but no actual emotional commitment. All while ignoring the constants. Those things that are just there, all the time, whenever we do get to see them:

That electrical chemistry between those two.

The way they look at each other constant over the years.

The way they talk to each other constant over the years.

The way they touch each other constant over the years.

The way they talk about each other.

The way their interactions are so different from the others or their own with the others.

The way the others are around them, their reaction to Jikook.

All still there!!!

*PS:

I wrote this post yesterday before JK's Radiohead appearance and his TikTok post-delete.

I guess now would be a good time to repeat what the wise @ourwinterspring (yes, I'm mentioning you again, lol) once said (well a couple of days ago, that is):

Rumors are created by haters

accepted by fools

and spread by idiots

[chaosister]

PROLOGUE. [ back to series masterlist ]

cw. mentions of killing, mentions of cannibalism, fem!reader, drinking??

note. this is finally out! I just finished this in an hour so I might drop the first chapter tomorrow, taglist for this series are open!

“a job well done again miss (name)! you really outdid even me in this case!” 

the booming laughter of the head chief echoed throughout the room and mingled with the other workers' yells of joy, after all you did just solve another case that remained unsolved for years- until you were brought to the stage, that is.

“ah, you flatter me, chief. I wouldn’t have performed well if it weren’t for your well thought out instructions.” you wringed your hands together as you sent a strained smile to the man in front of you who reeked of alcohol, the smell of his breath was making your brows furrow but you held it in and tried to act unbothered. you hated this place, it was so appalling and full of such perverse customers and the reek of the cigarettes that wafted around the air which you were now breathing in were causing you to have a migraine and you aren’t even going to mention the horrid smell of sweat and different body odors that hid under such strong colognes or perfumes. at least the waitresses here were nice.

“HAHAHA! hear that folks? if it weren’t for my instructions, the little miss (name) here wouldn’t have accomplished the case smoothly!” you were broken out of your trance when you heard the chief’s egoistical words that were making it harder to force a smile through gritted teeth. oh god, you just want to go home and not deal with this egoistic man. you regret uttering those words to him because you knew how he’ll be making claims about you failing this mission if it weren’t for him and you’ll have to endure such a thing for a week, a week! well, unless the old geezer got tired of it or your co-workers stopped paying attention to his claims.

“haha, yes sir. I couldn’t have totally succeeded in finding out who’s behind all of those crimes if it weren’t for you.” you said those words through gritted teeth as you let out an awkward laugh to try and make it seem as if you weren’t mocking him with your words. you bet your ass that he was going to take all of the credit again, you just hope that your up-coming salary would at least have a bonus for cracking this nut tough case.

“well, If I may, may I ask what will be your next mission miss (name)?” the chief slammed down the crystal beer stein pint glass that contained the heavy beer he was just drinking that was now half-way finished. 

should you tell him? uncertainty rushed through your mind as you hesitated to mutter out words, “well.. uhm..” you avoided his gaze and tried to think of an excuse to get out of this conversation that was obviously getting awkward. 

“what? are you trying to hide secrets from me now, (name)?” the stern gaze and voice of his froze your body and it felt like you were dumped in an ice cold bath due to those eyes of his that glared at you with deep annoyance, all the hint of playfulness and the joy the man showed was nowhere to be found as he urges you to tell him, it wasn’t a question- it was an order from someone higher than you and you couldn’t help but be reminded of those moment you wish to lock away deep inside your mind.

“...I’ve been interested in this one case that happened in new orleans, louisiana years ago..” you glanced towards the chief to see if that was enough information but the way one of his eyebrows raised at you urging you to continue only made you release a tired sigh. “the one where a southern radio host was revealed to be a cannibal all along and he died by a hunter’s hand who mistook him as a deer, you know, that one?” you took a sip from your own glass as the bitter taste of the beer greets your tongue and the burning sensation that the alcohol left as it went down on your throat was a feeling you welcomed wholly.

“you mean that case of a crazy psychopath who managed to fool everyone for years and then his crimes were suddenly revealed after his death?” the chief chugged down the half-way finished alcohol that was left inside his glass as he slammed down his glass on the table multiple times to get the bartender’s attention to ask for more of the addicting beverage. “you have an eye for grotesque cases, you know that, kid? heard this certain case was so gruesome that the police and investigators who handled the case were left traumatized by the scenes they saw inside that man’s house.” the bartender who held a rather large bottle of beer came towards the two of you to fill the chief’s empty glass as he continued his blabber that piqued your interest, you made sure to listen to his words carefully since he might spat something out that could help you figure some things out about this case.

“you’d think that such an innocent looking wooden house was never the place where he hid the countless mangled body parts of his victims, just imagining the scene gives me the shivers.” and to further prove his point, the chief exaggerated a shaking motion, 

“but, you know, I do hand it to the guy, he is smart and plans out his killings well. he doesn’t just go around, pick someone out and kill them on the spot. the guy actually gets close to his victim for a few days and then strikes when their victim’s trust has been acquired by that man, pretty clever, don’t you think? not to mention the fact that he was a rather famous radio broadcaster.” the chief took a gulp of his drink, letting out a satisfied sigh once he was finished savoring the taste of the beer. “now that’s what I’m talking about.” 

seeing that the man will no longer provide you any information other than the ones he already uttered, which was basic information that you’ve already read in the files that you managed to get your hands on, still, you couldn’t help but be disappointed by the fact that you wasted your time hoping that the chief would supply some useful information. but alas, you could do nothing but run your hand through your hair and finish the remaining alcohol inside your glass- it was rude to waste food, even if it’s a beer.

you stood up from your seat and gathered your things, trying to ignore the sudden silence that came beside you and that irritating feeling of his glare on the side of your head. “going so soon? we just came here, you know?” no, in fact the two of you arrived in this bar house a few hours ago when the sun was still up and now it was dark outside. maybe the chief was starting to get drunk. “just a word of advice, be careful and always be cautious and have your guard up at every time.” the chief sent you a smile but you know that you should take his words seriously since you suspect that he knows something and is holding back precious information away from you.

“I’ll make sure to keep your words in mind, Chief.” He turned his head away from you and sent you a dismissing wave as you awkwardly raised your hand a bit and waved back at him.

you strutted away from the chief and headed towards the back exit as the sound of the heavy door of the establishment slamming rather loudly rang through your ears and managed to startle you.stupid door, you kicked the door and as expected, your feet ached from the force you exerted on the hard surface of wood. “fuck! ow! ow!” you let out wails as you tried not to force too much weight on your now injured feet while heading towards your car.

 “they should really change that door..” you mumbled, but your petty tantrum was soon halted by the shining cover that peeked out of the garbage can beside the lamp post that was in front of your parked car. “hm?” your curiosity got the best of you as you neared the trash can but stopped, realizing that you were about to pick something out of a literal garbage can. 

you whipped your head around to spot for some on-lookers and seeing that there was none around you, you quickly snatched the glittering cover of what you assumed to be a book and ran straight to your car, slamming the door shut and looking down at the heavy book on your arms.

the book had some dust and dirt but nothing a good whipping of your hand can’t do and some of the pages were turning a shade of a yellowish brown due to aging you guess. 

you dusted off the dirt on the book and turned it so that the front cover was now facing you- the cover was embedded with some red gems that made it glitter and a fancy cursive of the title of the book that you couldn’t read properly, it was hard to pronounce. well, whatever, you’ll just deal with it once you arrive at the house of that cannibal.

you placed down the book on top of the files that you’ve collected for the case you were about to investigate for more clues and complete the rather gruesome story that was missing some puzzle pieces. you’ve always loved solving puzzles anyway, this was nothing new, and with that you drove away towards the destination that you would soon wish you’d never stepped foot on.

[viperwhispered]

Woke up, had two hilarious confession scenarios for Jamil.

Scenario 1: Kaguya-sama Love is War type shit. The reader and Jamil have been subtly flirting with each other for months trying to get the other to confess. Jamil is into it because he's a paranoid bastard and hates loosing. Reader is into it because it's fun getting all those reactions out of Jamil. They're both into this because they're insanely in love with each other and thing mind games are sexy.

Tension builds up for MONTHS and everyone is sick of it. Even Kalim doesn't know wtf to do cause they both know the feelings are mutual but instead of just dating they turned it into a competition.

The reader breaks first. They're cooking together and in this moment of domestic bliss the reader just goes "fuck it, I can't take this anymore. Jamil I'm in love with you and I want to date you."

Cue blushy Jamil crouching with his head in his hands because on one hand he technically won but they did it so nonchalantly it doesn't feel like a victory. The reader then teases him even more by leaving pecks all over his face.

Scenario 2: Fell first, fell harder. Reader fell first and spent months pining. Jamil fell hard enough to kill on impact but forgot that denial is a river in Egypt. Jamil is so deep in denial that he pulls a Kalim and is willfully oblivious to it. Cue poor reader suffering in the background.

Eventually, the reader is so sick of it they just confess expecting to be rejected: "Jamil, I'm in love with you. You don't have to answer, I just want you to know."

Cue Jamil freezing as he goes through the 5 stages of grief:

Denial: What no! They can't be- they have to be lying! I kidnapped for seven's sake! No way I like them either! We're just friends!

Anger: Fuck they're being honest! Shiiiiiit!

Barganing: Surley, this is some elaborate joke! Please let it be joke! Don't give me hope like this!

Depression: God . . . they love me . . . I can't just subject them to my life like this . . . I care about them too much

Acceptance: Fuuuuuuck! They love me . . . I'm in love with them, aren't? Fuck, fuck, fuck! I love them so much! I want to give them everything! I want their smile, I want their laughter, I want their hugs, their kisses, everything!

Bonus: if we don't kiss/get married in the next 10 seconds I'll overblot again.

After 3 minutes of staring off into space while reader is worridly trying to get his attention, Jamil snaps out of it and kisses them.

Unfortunately I’m not familiar with the thing you're referring to in the first scenario but yes I love these both.

Also for scenario 1: confessing requires being vulnerable and who’s gonna do that? Not these two, apparently.

Though I’m all for both scenarios ending with a flustered Jamil because yes please delicious (even if it’d be kinda suffering to be in the reader’s shoes at those moments, especially the second one).

Oof poor reader with the second one tho. Here you are, just laying it out there to finally maybe get past it (or whatever), only to just be met with a bluescreening Jamil. Like, they probably expected to be brushed off or something, instead get Jamil looking at them like they just grew a third head or something.

Those five stages of grief, tho… What a silly goober he is (affectionate).

And that bonus… Hasdfjs I love it so much.

[yourheartonfire]

An assassin with a speciality in dispatching super powered beings is hired to protect a blossoming rookie whose power, once properly trained, is predicted to turn the tides of the hero-villain conflict. (Bonus if they’ve also been hired by a separate party or kill them, and they’re unsure which order to follow through with)

Prompt courtesy of @thepenultimateword !

"Breath," the Assassin suggested, eyeing the rookie uncertainly as they quickly gathered up their knives out of their opponents. Their former opponents.

"I'm breathing," the Rookie wheezed, hands gripping their knees. "I've checked. Definitely breathing. My god, your hands. They're all- all-"

The Assassin wiped the blood off on their pants and hauled the Rookie close with their offhand. The attackers were down but who could say if that wasn't just the first wave?

"You need to transport us out of here," they murmured to the Rookie. "Can you do that?"

The Rookie locked their arms around the Assassin's neck. "I couldn't hurt them," they gasped. Their breath, hot against the Assassin's throat, was somehow still speeding up. "I'm sorry, I couldn't use the power-"

"And that was the right choice," the Assassin said with total and honest conviction. They'd seen the Rookie in training. From three clicks away. In a bunker. "You're not a weapon yet, kid. But you are our exit." Shadows moved in suspicious patterns. The Assassin chucked their empty clip, slammed in the next one from their belt one-handed. Stay calm. "Breath, kid. Think of somewhere safe and take us-"

The world warped around them. For a horrible moment the Assassin felt themselves stretch and warp too - and then the world snapped back into a new shape.

The Assassin and the Rookie tumbled to a softly carpeted floor. The dim room came into focus: a rug, looped with letters and numbers. Colorful walls, low shelves filled with baskets of toys and picture books...

"A preschool?" The Assassin sat up. It was dark here too but a pre-dawn, peaceful kind of dark.

The Rookie's breath was slowing, finally, their nose pressed to the gritty fibers. "Daycare," they said.

The Assassin started to reach for them - then thought better of it. They stood and made for the tall, adult sized cabinets. Wet wipes got the rest of the blood off, then there was a full first-aid kit and bags of emergency food. Now they returned to the Rookie with their prizes, smelling of disinfectant.

"Drink," they said, dropping a couple juice boxes on the Rookie's head. "Are you hurt? There's Pokémon bandages."

"Ow," the Rookie muttered but took a box. For a moment they both sucked down apple juice in silence. The Assassin made a mental note - daycares and preschools as makeshift safe houses, while figuring out how to hide their tracks - stage an animal break-in to the food? - when the Rookie cleared their throat.

"You didn't have to - why did you -?"

"I didn't have to kill them?" the Assassin guessed. They took the silence as yes. "Definitely did. Those weren't muggers, that was two of Supervillain's mid powered killers. You noticed how they were trying to kill you?"

"That's not how heroes fight!" The Rookie pushed up to their feet stubbornly. They didn't look particularly steady. "We fight to incapacitate, to defend."

"Maybe that's why your hero squad hired me to watch you," the Assassin said.

The Rookie's mouth opened and closed as they worked that one over in their head. "You think they hired you to... to send a message?" they said quietly.

The Assassin tossed the bag of boxed raisins and cheap granola bars at the Rookie's chest and let themselves collapse onto a pile of gym mats. "Shouldn't happen again anytime soon," they said gruffly. "(Supervillain)'s gonna have a harder time finding volunteers for the next kill squad..." Then their stupid, tired brain actually heard what the Rookie had just said. They sat up fast enough to make the kid flinch. "What do you think they hired me for?"

"In case I..." The Rookie's eyes dropped. "Well. In case something goes wrong..."

With me, was the unspoken end of that sentence. The Assassin's stomach gave another lurch.

"Just cause they pay me to do bad things doesn't mean I'd do anything for money," the Assassin snapped.

Another long silence. The Rookie's eyes widened slight, but they were smart enough to say nothing. The Assassin lay back, closed their eyes again. "We're both stressed and sore," they said. "Let's take a rest before we call for ground transport out of here. I suggest - no, I recommend that this conversation never happened."

The Assassin let the exhaustion take them. When they woke a few hours later, the Rookie was clearing up the last of the medical supplies.

"Let's go home," they said, face guarded, but their hand in Assassin's was warm and the squeeze real. The Assassin nodded and let the Rookie carry them back.

It was going to be really hard to keep lying, and more and more, the Assassin was realizing maybe, maybe, they could find a way to avoid it...

They were never taking a bodyguard gig again.

[endofradio]

NSFW HEADCANONS: HERR KÖNIG (CUCKOO)

honorable mention tags go to @trelaney @lokidoki9 @not-alesha and @hesawifebeaterdanusethegun 😋

likes comments and reblogs appreciated 🙏 trying to carry this fandom on my shoulders fr fr. also it’s crazy how people keep sleeping on könig like Hellooooo he deserves the same amount of attention longlegs is getting if not more /lh

PRAISE KINK!!!

Breeding kink but I feel like this is extremely obvious.

He’d be obsessed with the idea of you having his children. 💀 Okay buddy. Probably would go the artificial-insemination-via-cuckoo route. But normal pregnancy would be nice.

Sex on a frequent basis even when you’ve conceived until he knows for sure you’re pregnant. Gotta make sure, right? 🤷

Hoooolllyyyy shit. German dirty talk. Or just. German pillow talk. Speaking in German in general. German pet names etc etc. Bonus points if the reader, OC whatever isn’t fluent in German. He’d use that to his advantage.

Basically in other words: voice kink.

Yeah this guy has a lot of kinks.

There’s this one post I saw that went something like “eating you out while you’re ovulating so I can taste you at every stage of your biology” and like. Yeah that’s könig to a T.

His eating out game goes crazy.

Bit of a choking kink??? Maybe???

He’s got big hands and he’s going to use those to his advantage. Especially if reader/OC is shorter and smaller than him. Teehee.

Totally hasn’t memorized reader/OC’s cycle so he knows when they’re ovulating. Totallyyyy. Anyways.

Major claiming kink. His devotion is intense and not pretty. He needs you to remember that you’re his like it’s common knowledge. Something you don’t even need to think about it’s just something you Know. Wants you to smell like him. Hickies on your skin. You see what I’m getting at.

Mirror sex if he’s feeling particularly spicy.

Bit of a degradation kink. In German too.

Huehehehrhehhehe. Car sex.

He’s a power play kind of guy also because he’s emotionally stupid as hell. Not fond of being vulnerable. So he likes to fuck with his clothes on while you’re naked. Obsessed with that sense of power.

And he sure as hell loves giving commands. Telling you to get on your knees. Telling you to take your clothes off.

He’d like to watch you touch yourself. Haven’t done it before? It’s fine, he’ll… teach you.

If the orgasm is that good he might bite down on your neck a bit. Maybe so hard that a little blood is drawn.

Call him Leonard DiCaprio with the way he probably has a thing for 20-something-year- olds. Bro is the sugar daddy who keeps showing up in your dms. (I need to kill myself.)

Likes his dick getting sucked. Makes you swallow that shit too. Holds you down. Admires you when you pull away and your face is a mess.

Corruption kink. If you’re a virgin he’s going to be having a field day with that.

Overstimulation kink need I say more

Orgasm denial! Need I say more

He’s also a god at fingering.

Makes you lick your mess off his fingers afterwards. Or perhaps he’d do it himself. Savoring the taste.

Say his name during sex and he’s a goner.

Snarling/growling. Swearing.

For a man his age he’s got stamina. No need for Viagra. (I need to stop.)

Hear me out. soft dom könig.

Though he can definitely be a little more aggressive if/when he wants to be.

Favorite body part has to be tits. Not really picky though.

Very serious during sex.

Also a huge tease.

BODY WORSHIP!!! Adoring every single inch of you. No need to be shy with him. You’re insecure? Not to worry.

When he has the patience for foreplay he’s a god at it.

Once he’s comfortable enough to be vulnerable he’d make the most exquisite toe-curling love to you.

While aftercare isn’t something he normally does, he’s capable of it if he tries. And it’s nice. Bathing you washing your hair (now I’m picturing that scene from Secretary lmfao). Also the idea of him holding you and quietly shushing you while you’re overwhelmed and trembling.

The guy’s got a thing for pet names in general. Especially “my angel” and its variations.

He’d never admit it but his “dark” secret is that he’s actually needy as hell. What childhood trauma and overall lack of love does to a mf. If you’re affectionate with him during sex then he’s a goner.

[clavissionary-position]

The Kitty of Kogyoku

Azel: Matthias, will you come here for a moment? I have a fascinating theory.

Matthias: (stops poorly-carving an owl from World-Famous Achroite Wood) What is it?

Azel: You'll see. Would you please take Kagari's katana?

Matthias: But he's sleeping with it. He might have nightmares without it.

Azel: Not to worry. I'll simply give him God's Divine Protection™. He'll sleep like a baby warlord.

Matthias: Hmm. I can agree to these conditions. Very well.

Matthias: (takes Kagari's katana)

Matthias: (or tries to)

Matthias: He's got a really powerful grip. And I say that as a part-time logger.

Azel: Oh, my. That makes you the lumberjack lawyer, doesn't it.

Matthias: 😇 I am a man of many talents.

Azel: Like carving uglyー

Matthias: I'm sorry, what was that?

Azel: I said the 😇 emoji is copyrighted to me, and I charge a small fee for every use.

Azel: (slaps Matthias with an invoice)

Matthias: My apologies. I'll wire the fees to your temple immediately.

Azel: Thank you very much, it's always a pleasure doing business with you. But first, our katana problem...

Azel: (nods to Kagari) Tickle his chin like a cat.

Matthias: Like this?

Matthias: (tickles Kagari's chin) Tickle tickle tickle.

Azel: The sound effects are unnecessary, but, oh, look there!

Kagari: (drops his katana)

Matthias: I hope his enemies don't know about that trick.

Azel: We might be his enemies one day. Anyway, now that we're past that life-threatening stageー

Azel: (leans in to whisper) Kagari. What do you do when you're angry?

Kagari: (in his sleep) Resolve things peacefully by talking it out.

Matthias: (gasps)

Matthias: (looks at the katana)

Matthias: (looks at Kagari)

Azel: (uses Matthias' hand to pick the katana up and tuck it back into Kagari's embrace)

Azel: Could you repeat that, Kagari?

Kagari: (sleep-reaches into his pillow) Do you want to see the doodle I made of the guy I killed this morning?

Azel: No.

Matthias: Yes.

☆

Kagari: (recapping the episode) And then I got bored went to sleep for real.

Azel: A fine tale. But just because you don't have anything new to share for storytime doesn't mean you should recap events we were all present for.

Azel: Literally 20 minutes ago.

Azel: ...Sleeping so little will make you a liability to your fellow alliance-members, Kagari. Not to mention the toll it will have on your body. Don't make God watch you waste away.

Kagari: No one's making you watch anything. That's just how I operate. I've got to be ready for the kill at any moment.

Kagari: And, for the record, I do have new stories, but someone keeps insisting I censor all the blood and gore.

Matthias: (the owl carving is now in a special class of abomination) It's a shame because all the blood and gore truly feels like its own character with how you tell your stories.

Kagari: Thank you, Matthias. As always you have... (stares at the carving) ...impeccable...

Azel: Aaand here's your invoice for the chin tickles.

Kagari: You're not the one who tickled me.

Azel: Imagine if I didn't charge royalties for my ideas.

Kagari: Are you imagining it, Matthias?

Matthias: (tears in his eyes) I am.

Kagari + Matthias: The Perfect World.

Azel: Your carving sucks and I hope you fall on your katana.

a/n:

To my knowledge, Matthias is neither a logger nor wood-carver, he simply hails from a country with those industries. But in my head he absolutely is, and in such cases his shirt is always optional.

"Tickle his chin like a cat"—I learned a lot about cats from reading that Yves Like a Kitty bonus story 🤣

Oh also also I was inspired by incorrect ikevamp quotes by @/yanderepuck and @/evil-quartett

[ohmotherwhereartthou-if]

Your writing is amazing!!! I’m so sorry to ask but I must, How would the RO’s or other characters react to the MC sacrificing themselves to protect them?

Hello,

Thank you for your kind words. 💙😊

Ooh, a rare ask with other characters besides the Ro's. I mean which is fair, since a lot of the other characters haven't really been thoroughly introduced yet.

Also, since it wasn't specified; I am assuming relationship stage with the RO's?

Cassandra: Would have survivors guilt and feel as if she should have been the one to die. She would not do anything stupid and live a more careful life because while she would like to be reunited with MC in death, she would never want their sacrifice to have been for nothing. Would close herself off from love for a very long time, would only maybe find love again in her old age with another person who also knows the pain of losing a lover when they were young.

Valeria: Would obviously be distraught, she would ask God a lot "why did MC have to die?". She would spend a lot of time in church and honestly, I could either see her becoming a sort of nun figure or meeting someone new at church years later and falling in love. She would name her first child after MC and never forget them.

Tomás: Ouch. Just ouch. He would never love again, he would grow old and bitter, towards everyone and everything. He would dwell on the memory of MC and wish he had died instead, I see him going through 'A Man Called Otto' type of journey. (Great movie btw, I highly recommend it.) He would want to end himself to be reunited by MC and while he is so mean to everyone around him, he constantly thinks back to all his time spent with MC. From the most mundane moments from the sweetest memories, he remembers everything and keeps all of MC's things. Would never remarry or even consider thinking about anyone romantically ever again.

-

Ludovica: Uh.... I feel so bad that I only see one outcome for my sweet baby. UNLESS you guys had a kid, Vica is following after MC very soon after they pass. She would only go on living if you guys had a kid because they would give her a reason to live, she couldn't leave them behind and knows they need her now more than ever. But she would almost never smile, all light is gone from her and while she loves her child with all her heart; very little happiness could ever reach her now.

Aurelio: Would mourn and become rather reclusive for a few years. He wouldn't be the playful flirtatious fool anymore, he has matured and grown rather melancholic. He would keep on, living on for MC's sake but he would be forever changed. No more parties, no more crazy stupid antics. He will become regular old gentleman and maybe marry again some day but he knows deep down in his heart that the love he had for MC will always be stronger than what he could possible ever feel for anybody else.

Elio: I said this in a previous ask but... MC's death would definitely start his villain arc. He finally feels so strongly towards someone and they go and die on him? Screw humanity, everything can burn for all he cares.

Bonus!

Mother: Guilt would eat her up inside, she was supposed to protect MC; they were supposed to be safe when they were with her. That's what she promised them all those years ago, how could she let then down this way? Her poor, sweet little one; she is so sorry. So, so very sorry.

(Traveler's is sort of written in her pov)

Traveler: Damn it. Damn it! This wasn't supposed to happen, I guess this is what happens when you take a chance and try to help out a inexperienced kid. You end up getting them killed. You should have known, known better. This is your fault. You are the reason they are dead, this poor kids blood is forever on your hands. I hope they haunt me for the rest on my life... they can join the party and at least never feel lonely.

[raina-at]

Mouse

In celebration of this fandom and how much fun I'm having right now, with the May prompts and the fic club, have a bonus ficlet set in my theatre universe . (Another one of my AUs ticked off the list) (short premise for those not familiar: John is a stage manager and Sherlock is an actor. Mary, Molly and Sally are all part of John's crew.)

This is especially for @totallysilvergirl and the members of the Johnlock fic club. You all know why.

Warning, mention of an accidental animal death.

Also, this is loosely based on a true story.

-------

“What on Earth are you doing?”

“Be quiet,” Molly shushes Sherlock as she drags him through the stage door into the green room area.

“Oh thank god.” John sighs in relief as he sees Sherlock enter the room. “Save me from this madness.”

“Sit back down, Watson, this is all your fault after all!” Mary snaps. She’s pregnant again and the glare she gives him is filled with the homicidal rage of the permanently uncomfortable.

John sits back down and sighs. “Okay, fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Molly pushes Sherlock into a chair. “You be quiet now, we’ll be done in five minutes.”

Molly sits on Mary’s other side on the floor and takes Sally’s hand, completing the circle.

Mary gestures to Molly. “Do you have the object?”

Molly produces the live mousetrap and puts it in the middle of the pentagram Mary has drawn on the floor. 

“I hate to repeat myself, but what the actual fuck are you doing?” Sherlock asks, watching them with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. 

They all turn their heads in surprise, because they all know how rarely Sherlock swears. 

“We’re doing an exorcism,” Molly explains. “John killed a mouse and now we’re haunted.”

“I didn’t, I repeat, DID NOT kill a mouse!” John very nearly yells, sick and tired of this argument. 

“You left the live trap open over a bank holiday weekend,” Mary growls. “The bloody mouse sprung it, died of thirst in it, and ever since we’ve had one accident after another. First my fucking brand new moving head blew on its second night, then Molly twisted her ankle, and yesterday you were nearly hit by a stage wall.”

“So did I understand this correctly? You, rational, adult, competent professionals, had a few easily explained accidents and then came to the inevitable conclusion that you’re being haunted by the angry spirit of a common house mouse?” Sherlock asks, steepling his hands under his chin. 

“Duh,” Molly mutters, rolling her eyes. 

“Anything to say, genius?” Mary asks, glaring at Sherlock in a way that makes John hope that Sherlock will consider the words that come out of his mouth next very, very carefully.

“You need sage,” Sherlock says after a moment of silent contemplation. “And candles.”

“You’re not fucking serious!” John stares at Sherlock as if he’s grown a second head, which would frankly have surprised John just a tiny bit more than the current development. “You’re superstitious? Since when?”

“All actors are superstitious,” Sherlock says, ducking into the tiny theatre kitchen. “It’s the better safe than sorry principle.” He comes back with mixed herb salt and some tealights. “This should do nicely. Budge over.” 

He sits between Sally and Molly and takes their hands.

“This must be what going mad feels like,” John mutters, but he takes Mary’s and Sally’s hands and completes the circle.

Mary shushes him and lights the candles. Then she shakes a bit of the salt over the live trap. She turns to John and gestures to the trap. “Now apologise.”

“But I—”

“I said,” Mary says with a smile sharper than a battleax. “Apologise.”

John clears his throat. “Um.” The thing is, he is sorry. He never meant to cause an animal’s death, even indirectly. They only ever use live traps for a reason. But he feels slightly ridiculous all the same. 

He knows this is necessary, though. Theatres are places where legends and superstitions and rituals live for generations. Case in point, no theatre person in their right mind would ever refer to the Scottish play by its actual name. Case in point, you never say good luck backstage. This is no different, he knows this.

Of course the knowledge doesn’t stop him from feeling completely ridiculous as he says, “I’m sorry, mouse spirit. I didn’t mean for you to die. Please forgive us and stop haunting our theatre. We’re really sorry.”

He puts a piece of cheese into the trap, and every member of his crew follows suit. Sherlock contributes another sprinkle of the herbal salt, and then Mary, in lieu of setting the trap on fire, which would trigger the smoke alarm, bashes it in with a cricket bat. It’s horribly loud, but the trap is unusable afterwards.

“Be at peace, little mouse,” Molly whispers, and John can see the tears in her eyes.

They all share a long look over the mouse trap, and then they burst out laughing.

“You’re all insane,” Sherlock says, but he’s laughing as well, and there’s a lot of affection in his voice.

“Yup,” John answers, still giggling a bit. This is my crew, he thinks. Dangerously foul-tempered, certifiably insane, scarily silly at times. And I couldn’t love them more for it. He looks at Sherlock, who’s watching him with sparkling eyes and so much unguarded affection, and he smiles. “And you fit right in.”

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