#haha get it. rap on the knuckles.

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Marks

(Masterlist)

girl help i can't stop making bonus content

this is set right around Part XIII, in regard to the “I should probably give you more visible marks.” comment.

(Content: living weapon whumpee, obedient whumpee, somewhat reluctant whumper, dehumanization, power imbalances, physical abuse, minor blood, brief drug mention, death mention)

==============

He got approximately ten million fucking emails calling him an arsonist, or telling him that the experiment is an accident waiting to happen, or asking why he was letting the A-bomb walk around off-leash, why he was letting the bomb walk at all. Accusations he wouldn’t dare repeat. It was all so stupid. Delta was good. Paris never worried about him fragging. But the appearance of insubordination was damning all on its own. It was not a good situation.

Unfortunately, the messages kept coming. From staff he actually respected, too. People he needed. He didn’t even know how word reached them that quickly. He sometimes forgot just how scared they were of Delta. It had never been a popular project. That night, he received many requests for him to be killed outright. Not fucking happening.

Fucking Nezu telling him what to do with his fucking psychic. He was more mad about that than he ever could have been at Delta. That was why he’d gone easy on him. It gave him serious pause whenever his wants overlapped with Nezu’s — sometimes enough to evaporate them completely. He really wasn’t in the mood.

Something had to be done though, by the time the next meeting rolled around. They had to know that Delta had been punished for it, that Paris didn’t just let him get away with everything.

Delta didn’t fight him on it — not that he’d expected him too. He kneeled in front of the desk like he’d been asked. Paris leaned back against it, hitting the pen a few more times than he needed to. 

Delta looked bad. That day had been the only time Paris had ever seen him cry — even weeks later, he hadn’t seemed to recover from it. His eyes were still so pleading, in a way they’d never been before. It was unsettling.

Paris readjusted the only ring he wore on his right hand. It was sapphire — and it was clean. There wasn’t any reason to drag it out. He tilted Delta’s face up a little, tucking the slick hair back behind the webbed fin of his ear. 

“Hold still.” He didn’t want to hit his eye by accident. The jewel was sharp.

He backhanded him hard across the face. Harder than he would have normally. It needed to bruise.

Delta’s head was forced sharply to one side. His hair fell back in his face, totally obscuring it when he looked down at the floor. He didn’t outwardly react, but his next breaths came out shallow and shaky. Yeah, that hurt. 

Paris cupped his face again, moving it back up to examine the injury. It’d landed where he wanted it to — a thin cut right along his cheekbone. He could see the spot where the bruise would form over the next couple hours. Delta winced. Paris gently smoothed over the flushed skin with his thumb. 

“I’m sorry.” Delta’s voice was quiet. It was all he would say recently. 

“I know.”

It was hard to be mad at him when he was so clearly repentant. When he was being this good about it. Paris released him. He’d planned on hitting him across the other side of his face as well, in the interest of covering all his angles. It didn’t feel worth it anymore.

“Hand.”

Delta placed his hand gingerly into Paris’s own. Paris tightened his grip around it, supporting the palm beneath so that it’d absorb the full force of it. Knuckles facing up. Paris reached back for the ruler left out on the desk.

It cracked down hard against his knuckles, fast enough that he didn’t really have time to flinch. His injured hand reflexively tightened around Paris’s in the aftermath; it was the only real physical reaction he’d had. His claws dug painfully into Paris’s hand, not yet breaking the skin.

Paris released his grip on the hand. Delta’s hand relaxed and the claws withdrew, but he didn’t pull it back like he’d expected. He just left it resting there in his grasp.

“Other one.” 

He offered it without resistance. Same routine. Paris brought the ruler back down over his other hand, watching as the first signs of bruising appeared upon them. He placed the ruler back down and released his grip on Delta’s hand. 

“Done.”

There wasn’t much else to do, really. Delta was always dressed in long sleeves and ceremonial garb. For the most part, only his face and hands were exposed on vanguard days. It was enough, though. His expression alone was enough. If he just stayed like that, he’d be fine.

Delta folded both of his hands back into his lap, bright purple and blue against the pale white of clothes. His hair fell messily in his face, but parts of his eyes were still visible. He was still looking at Paris in that desperate, shell-shocked way.

“…Easy. You’re fine.” Paris didn’t know what to say to make him normal again. “The sting will be gone in a few minutes.”

For the hands, anyway, though the numbness would remain. The mark on his face would hurt a lot longer. 

Delta nodded slowly. A small amount of blood appeared by the cut. 

Paris gestured for him to lean forward again. Delta did so, cringing a little. Paris pressed a tissue against his cheek to stop the bleeding. He sighed as it bled straight through.

“…You want a bandaid?” He offered. The bruise would still be visible beneath it. 

“Yeah.” His voice was barely audible. He took the tissue from Paris, keeping the pressure there. 

Paris disappeared for a moment, loudly knocking shit over in the overfilled medicine cabinet. He came back with the split bandage. Delta held still as he applied it over the cut, smoothing it out against his cheek. It was pale white, the same color as his clothes, standing out sharply against the dark blue of his skin.

“…Thank you,” Delta said quietly. Sweetly. It fucking killed him sometimes.

Paris felt something strange in the pit of his stomach. He ignored it. He made a small, noncommittal noise as he discarded the paper into the trash. 

Delta touched the side of his face gently with the newly discolored fingers. Bruises on bruises. He put his hand abruptly back into his lap when Paris looked at him, as if he’d gotten caught. 

“We’re done.” Paris waved him off, sliding the ruler back into the drawer. The pen was starting to kick in. He was getting lightheaded. 

Delta rose slowly, giving something like a curtsy before he left. Or maybe his legs were just unsteady. Paris didn’t really care. 

The door closed quietly. Paris slid the lock shut. He pressed his forehead against the wood grain. Definitely lightheaded.

……

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

[tune-on-in-folks]

Day 11. Yet again I had to force myself to stop editing and rewriting this one. If things seem a little out of place, that's why. Haha. Something about the deer-man has me rewriting over and over. Anywhozle, enjoy a rut fic with the Radio Demon!

Tags/Warnings: fem!reader, deer!reader, p in v sex, top!Alastor, rut, heat, mating, kinda A/B/O because of that, creampie, chasing, blood consumption, marking, biting, reader is very confused. Word Count: 3,550

It was mid-October and the Hotel was alight with activity. Charlie had decided that the Hotel needed to be decorated from the highest floors to the ground-floor lobby. It was one of her latest plans to help with team-building. And who didn’t enjoy Halloween or decorating? Alastor had withdrawn himself from the activities, not giving a really solid reason to why. But since he often didn’t indulge in the activities of the Hotel, Charlie freed him from his duties as hotelier for the time being. And for once, Alastor was thankful to be free of work.

He had been in Hell for many years, so he was well aware that every year, around mid-October, his rut started. It was an unfortunate side effect of being a deer demon. Each season was different as well, sometimes the lust that his rut brought was easily manageable. Other times it nearly suffocated him. He refused to indulge in the primal urges of his body, never once, in all of his years in Hell, taking a mate. This year, he planned to do much of the same. Tuck himself away in his room, relieve the rut himself for as long as it would last, and be done with it.

He didn’t account for you.

You were a deer demon like him, which lent itself to a sort of camaraderie between the both of you. He enjoyed your presence more than he was willing to admit, and found himself caring for you. You softened his edges, made his heart skip a beat. You were intriguing, enchanting, you drew him in. You were a weakness that he refused to disclose to anyone, you included. Alastor knew you were fairly new to Hell, but hadn’t expected you to be clueless about your own nature. About what your very presence would do to him, come mid-October.

A few days ago, Alastor had started to avoid you. Which had hurt, even though you were certain it was unintentional on his part. He was busy, you knew that, and you couldn’t expect him to spend every waking moment listening to your silly stories. But how you missed him. You were thoroughly unaware why he was avoiding you. Unaware of why your very body seemed to crave his presence more than usual. You adored the Radio Demon. While most at the Hotel feared him, you sought him out, wanting to be near him. Everyone else avoided him, which meant he was typically always free for you to pester while helping him with tasks. Your feelings of wanting him near just intensified as mid-October rolled around. And you were starting to get annoyed that he was avoiding you. Your first thought was that he was busy, but then you started worrying that you had done something wrong, maybe insulted him accidentally. You were prepared to make it up to him.

You awoke early in the morning, sweat sticking your hair to your face and a low arousal building in your stomach. You didn’t think too much of it, having woken up much the same, the last few days. You were unaware that you were entering your first ever heat-cycle. So you got up, made sure you looked fairly presentable, and headed out of your room. It was extremely early, no one else was up. The Hotel was eerily quiet, but peaceful nonetheless. You made your way to Alastor’s bedroom, knowing that he rose before the sun most mornings. It was the perfect time to approach him. In the privacy of the early morning, you were certain you could speak to him about why he was avoiding you. You knew he was busy, but hoped he’d spare a moment for you, especially first thing in the morning.

You arrived at his door, raising your hand up to rap your knuckles gently against the wood. The sound was surprisingly loud in the quiet stillness that covered the Hotel. You wondered for a moment, if perhaps Alastor wasn’t up at all, if you should come back later. But then you heard shuffling, your ears twitching as they picked up the sound. The door opened a crack a moment later and Alastor appeared. You took in his appearance, feeling yourself blush at his level of undress. He was in pajamas, the shirt unbuttoned and hanging loosely from his frame. It felt almost scandalous seeing his chest and stomach exposed when he typically wore layers. He froze, his smile straining as he took in your similar appearance. Shorts that were high above your knees, and a shirt that was cut much too low- exposing quite an expansive amount of your cleavage. He shifted forward, aware of your scent, the pheromones rolling off you in thick waves. At the same time he moved forward, your sharp nose picked up his scent. A mix of his cologne and something that was uniquely him. Just the whiff of him had more heat pooling between your legs. Much to your annoyance and confusion.

“May I help you, my dear?” His voice was hoarse, sounding strained as his claws dug into the edge of the door.

“I…” You begin, swallowing as more arousal flooded through you. “I wanted to see if you were alright.”

“Fine.” Was his curt reply, his ears pressed flat against his head as he struggled to maintain control with you so near.

You were in the beginning of your heat and here you were coming to his door, flaunting your scent around him. He had never once smelt something so enticing, something that had his cock twitching to life in an instant. His body craved release, craved to give into his rut. Into the primal side of his nature and breed, much to his annoyance. He was startled by how intense his rut got with you being so near. It was taking everything in him not to pull you into his room and fuck you against the door.

“Is that all?” He asks, moving to close the door.

“No, I wanted to speak to you actually.” You take a step forward, your eyes catching on the sweat on his brow, his typically perfect hair was messy.

A flash of concern runs through you, you wonder if he was getting unwell. You take another step forward, your body responding to his presence, to the scent rolling off him in thick waves. You didn’t understand why he smelt so good, better than usual. You didn’t understand why you were so wet, so aroused. Why you wanted Alastor to pin you against the wall and fuck you. You were completely clueless, banishing your thoughts as best you could. It wasn’t the first time such fantasies crossed your mind, so you thought nothing more of them.

“You look unwell, Alastor.” You say softly, reaching your hand up to brush against his forehead, his skin scalding beneath your touch.

He flinched at your touch, his hand grasping your wrist tightly, pulling it away. Guilt flooded you as you realized what you had done. You were typically so careful, being respectful of his boundaries, and never touching him without his express permission.

“I’m sorry!” You exclaim, face flushed in embarrassment.

Your mind was torn between being apologetic and the distracting feeling of his hand encircling your wrist in warmth. Why did just a simple touch have more heat pooling between your thighs? You needed to get a grip on yourself before you did or said something embarrassing. Alastor’s lips pulled back into a slight snarl, his control over his body slipping. He yanks you closer to the door, closer to him.

“Ah! Al!” You object as he opens the door further, pulling you into his room.

The door slams shut behind you, the lock clicking a moment later. For the first time since you had met the Radio Demon, a cold fear runs through you as you tumble to the floor. You turn around, watching him approach you. His eyes were dark with a predatory look that had you shivering, arousal cutting through your fear.

“You wanted to speak to me, so speak!” He demands, his smile straining.

“I-Alastor, are you okay?” You ask, pushing yourself to your feet, concern for him overriding everything else.

Static picks up around him, the sound deafening as he attempts to control his instincts. “I’m beginning not to be. Pray tell, what are you bothering me for?”

You swallow nervously, ears pressing down against your head as discontent swirls in your stomach. You didn’t like his sharp tone or the fact that he was clearly very annoyed by your presence.

“You’ve been avoiding me. I wanted to know if I’ve done something wrong.” You finally whisper, looking away from him.

Alastor laughs, sounding almost gleeful. The sound startles you enough to look back at him. 

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” He asks, voice strained, radio effect in full swing.

“What?” You ask, head tilting to the side in confusion. “What are you talking about? Have I done something wrong?”

He advances on you, each step full of intent. “My dear, I knew you were new to Hell, but not this new. Are you unaware of what season it is?” 

Your brows furrow as you take a step back. “It’s October.”

He laughs again, eyes crinkling with mirth. “Yes, my dear, it is. And what happens to deers in October?”

You frown. “They mate? What are you getting at?”

Alastor stops in front of you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you against him. “You truly are clueless, my little doe.”

“What?” You ask slightly insulted. 

“You.” He gestures to you as if that would explain everything. “My dear, are in heat.”

“I’m in what now?” You respond, head tilting in confusion once again.

He tilts your chin up with his thumb and pointer finger, correcting your head tilt. “Heat. You’re aroused right now, wanting, craving. Desperate and needy.”

You flush at his words, a bit embarrassed that he managed to see through you so easily. “H-how did you…?”

“Know?” He prompts, his mouth grazing against your lips teasingly. “Because my dear, I’m in the midst of my rut myself. And you smell divine.” 

His lips brush against your neck, his nose bumping against your ear. You squeeze your eyes shut, your breath hitching at how close he is. With Alastor this close you can really smell his cologne and that musky scent beneath it. It does nothing but fan the flames rapidly building in your gut, your arousal growing. His hands find your hips, dragging you closer.

“Alastor?” You whisper, swallowing thickly as his mouth trails against your neck.

“Yes, my dear?” He asks softly, his tongue running along your sensitive skin.

You shiver at his touch, not having realized how feverish you felt until the touch of his mouth cooled your flushed skin.

“What’s happening to me?” you ask, a soft whimper falling from your lips as you pressed against him. “Why do I feel like this? Why do you make me feel like this?”

He chuckled, the sound low and baritone, sending more arousal pooling. “I told you, my dear. You’re in heat. Your body is craving a mate. To be taken, fucked, filled. Bred.”

You gasp, a soft, breathy moan falling from your lips as he kisses up your neck.

“And unfortunately for you, you came to me. So now I’m going to do just that.” He promises.

Your eyes flutter open at his words, at what that means for you. His words were not completely clicking yet, your arousal clouding the logical side of your mind.

“Alastor…” you breathe, meeting his gaze as he pulls back.

His eyes shone with an unnatural light, intensifying the reds and pinks. Alastor turns you around so that you’re facing the pocket dimension in his room, grinding his hips against your lower back. Your breath catches in your throat at the feeling of his erection.

He whispers in your ear, his breath fanning over the skin, making you feel both feverish and freezing all at once. “You’re going to run my dear. And when I catch you, I’m going to claim you as mine. Mate you.”

You feel Alastor take a step back, releasing his hold on you. You glance back at him, a mix of emotions warring within you. It was quickly becoming apparent that perhaps seeking Alastor out wasn’t such a grand idea. Especially when you didn’t exactly understand what was happening to you. Why you felt so feverish, why his scent alone was making you so aroused. He had mentioned deers and their mating season. It clicked in your mind then.

“I’m in heat?” You ask.

He meets your gaze, his smile softening despite the almost feral look in his eyes. “Yes, my little doe. An unfortunate side effect for us. A season you will go through every year around this time. Now do get running, you are wasting precious time.”

You face back towards the pocket dimension. The idea of running from Alastor, of him chasing you and catching you, was just making you more aroused. 

Your feet moved on their own, propelling you forward as you set off. You tried to pace yourself, wondering just how long this chase could go on. You knew you wanted him to catch you, to pull you down into the mud of his bayou, and fuck you sensless. You took a shaky breath, turning abruptly to the left, weaving past trees, jumping over roots. You let the primal side of you take over, knowing your instincts would lead you when your logical mind was still grappling with the fact that you were in heat.

“Here I come, my little doe!” Alastor’s voice rang out, far too cheerful and full of promise.

His voice surrounds you, as though he was right behind you. You speed up, a thrill running through your entire body. Unfortunately for yourself, your body was quickly wearing down. You can feel yourself slowing, the adrenaline you'd started with faltering. At the sound of branches snapping underfoot, you glance behind you. You gasp, seeing Alastor closing the space between the both of you effortlessly. You were breathing hard, your muscles burning with the strain as you ran. Yet he barely seemed to be breaking a sweat. You look forward again, in enough time to barely avoid running straight into a tree. You stumble over a root, barely able to catch yourself. Your stumble is enough for Alastor to close the distance between you totally. He tackles you to the ground.

A fresh wave of adrenaline pumps through you, your body writhing beneath him as he pins you down. You attempt to kick his legs only for him to pin them beneath his. His knee spreads your legs, bumping right against your sensitive core. He pins your hands above your body, his face burying against your neck.

“Got you.” He whispers, rolling his hips against you.

You whine, the fight immediately leaving your body completely as desire replaces your adrenaline. Alastor shifts above you, his claws gliding seamlessly through your shorts and panties beneath. Your clothes fall from your frame in shreds, a gasp spilling from you. The cold, autumn air of the bayou fans over your hot core, only adding to your desire. He shreds your shirt next, his mouth finding yours as he frees his throbbing cock from his sweatpants. You moan as he nudges the throbbing tip of it against your entrance. Alastor sits back, running his cock through your slick folds, bumping into your clit.

“I’m going to mate you, my dear. Make you mine completely.” He presses the tip against your entrance again, rocking his hips forward.

You whimper as he nudges your entrance open, already stretching you with a delicious burn. You try to pry your hands free from his grip as he presses inside you. You wanted to grab ahold of him, to brace yourself as he began to enter you. He was thick and long, much bigger than you had ever taken before.

“Alastor!” You moan, thrashing against his hold. “You're so big!”

He smirks, his ego clearly being stroked, he leans down to capture your lips as he slid deeper inside you.

“That’s it my doe, you’re taking my cock so well. Just a little more to go.” He praises, continuing to push inch by inch inside you.

You gasp, your back arching in an attempt to pull away from him, while also rolling down onto his invading cock. “Too much! Alastor, it’s too much, you’re too big. You won’t fit!”

He chuckles, his mouth trailing kisses and nips all the way down your neck. “I assure you, darling. I’ll fit. And you-” He thrusts forward, raming in completely. “Will take me all.”

Another gasp falls from your lips, your hands twisting in his grasp as he bottoms out. His cock is pressed deep inside you, deeper than you thought was possible. His cock-head rests against your cervix, pressed right against it. His length feels impossibly hot, warming you from the inside out against the chill of the bayou. Alastor slowly withdraws his cock, leaving the tip inside, before he thrusts back into you. His hips snap against yours, causing you to cry out in both pain and pleasure. He repeats the movement, the time between each thrust shortening, until he’s fucking you hard and fast. The ground beneath the two of you depresses from your combined weight. Every thrust moves your body an inch or two away from him, only for Alastor to drag you back down against him. You moan loudly, cries filling the air and drowning out any sounds of the surrounding nature.

“That’s it.” He praises, “Taking me so well. You look absolutely darling on my cock, dear.”

Alastor drags your body up, shifting back on his haunches and bringing you up with him. The change in position allows him to fuck up into you, his cock sliding deeper. Breathless moans fell from your mouth, loud and wanton.

“Alastor-” You gasp, barely able to get out his name with how much pleasure you were feeling. “Please.”

He chuckles, twisting your hands beneath your back. It was unfair how unaffected he looked, as though he wasn’t also getting off to fucking you.

“What is it, my little doe?” He murmurs, pressing kiss after kiss against your neck, rubbing his scent against you.

“I’m so close-” You manage to say, eyes rolling back into your head as he bounces you on his cock.

Your body felt like it was on fire, every touch of his cooled you down while also stroking the arousal in your body. He presses forward, his pubic bone pressing against your clit with every thrust.

Alastor lowers his mouth to the crook of your neck, licking away the salty sweat of your skin. “Then cum for me.”

As though he had complete control over your body, your orgasm rips through you. You yell out loudly, your walls squeezing around his cock. Your release coats your thighs and his lower stomach. The sensation of your walls squeezing around his cock is too much for him. Alastor bites down on your shoulder harshly, drawing blood, marking you. He pulls you down onto his cock as he thrusts up into you, hips stuttering as he spills his seed inside you. Hot ropes of cum spill into your waiting, fertile womb. Your body shivers at the intensity of your combined pleasure. Alastor keeps rolling against you, gently thrusting as he fucks his seed deeper inside you.

“Ah- Al-astor!” You whimper, your body overly sensitive to his every touch.

He slows to a stop, buried balls deep inside you, his teeth still deeply embedded in your shoulder. He pulls away, releasing your shoulder from his mouth. Fresh wells of blood spill from the wound that he quickly laps up. The image of him lapping up your blood, his face covered in it, while his cock was buried inside you, was sinful. You shivered involuntarily, his cock remaining hard inside you.

You swallow down another whimper and voice the question you were dreading asking. “How long does this last?”

Alastor meets your gaze, his expression softening. “The rut lasts about a month, and breeding you can last anywhere from forty-eight to seventy-two hours. But worry not, my dear, I’ll make sure your every need is taken care of for the entire month. You’re my mate now, after all.”

You feel your blood drain from your face as the length of time clicks in your mind. If that was the case then you and Alastor would be locked together for days on end. You adored him, but that was a lot.

“I don’t know if I can do that.” You whisper, your body already feeling sore from just one round with him.

He leans forward, capturing your mouth with his as he kisses you deeply. You can taste your blood on his tongue and are surprised by how much it turns you on. Alastor pulls away a moment later, resting his forehead against yours.

“Fret not, my little doe, you can.” He whispers, his voice dropping an octave lower than you were used to. “And you will.”

You shiver, you were in for a long month.

[jobean12-blog]

Next Door to Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Neighbor AU)

Word Count: 3,188

Summary: When you made the move to the city you never expected your new neighbor to be so sweet and helpful...or hot.

Author's Note: Because why not! Moving in across the hall from Bucky would be a dream, one I'd like to live out please and ty haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: fun and flirty, teasing and tension, a curse or two or three, Bucky is impatient and cocky in the best way!

Last week

Your tired, fuzzy slipper clad feet drag along the floor as you trudge toward the door across the hall. You’re hoping someone is home. Someone who has sugar. Anyone.

You let out a quick exhale and lift your chin before rapping your knuckles against the wood. A frown starts to mar your forehead when you hear a sleepy mumble come from inside the apartment.

Shit, fuck, shit you woke him up. It’s a guy. Of course it is…because you don’t look like you just rolled off your mattress that still has no bedframe and tripped over twenty-five unopened boxes…etc, etc.

The door swings open revealing said guy…a hot-as-fuck guy. Naked, except for his unbuttoned jeans.

Oh hi neighbor.

Before you can stop it, your gaze instantly drops to the dark trail of hair below his bellybutton, framed by a set of abs that you could dry your laundry on.

You reel yourself in and lift your eyes to his which does nothing to help your declining focus. His hair is perfectly mussed from sleep, his chiseled jaw shadowed with dark stubble and his incredible blue eyes lined by dark lashes.

His hands are planted on either side of the door frame and with every passing second you’re mesmerized by flexing muscles in his chest and arms.

He drags a lazy hand through his unkept hair and smiles. Knowingly. Smugly.

“Can I help you doll?”

“Um…hi. I’m sorry if I woke you…it’s just…I moved in yesterday and haven’t gone shopping yet and I have no sugar. I need my coffee.”

“So you’re my new neighbor,” he croons. “Lucky me.”

You audibly swallow and hold up your coffee cup pleadingly.

“I’ll take care of ya doll.”

With a wink he holds up one long finger.

“Come on in and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back with that sugar.”

He spins on his heel and walks toward what you’re guessing is the kitchen and it should be considering your apartments are mirror images of each other.

You step inside and stand by the door to wait. You hear him rummaging around and then hear a crash followed by grumbled curses.

Before you can react the cutest white cat saunters out of the kitchen, looking quite proud with his fluffy tail held high and blue eyes unblinking.

“That’s Alpine,” he yells from the other room. “Don’t let his cuteness fool you. He’s a menace!”

You let your laughter ring out and then kneel down to give Alpine some scratches. The cat instantly warms up to you and presses himself against your leg, purring loudly.

“Ah, of course he likes you.”

You look up at the sound of your neighbors voice and reluctantly give up petting Alpine to take the offering of sugar.

“Thank you….?”

“Bucky,” he finishes for you. “Name’s Bucky.”

“Thanks Bucky,” you say with a smile and then introduce yourself.

You look back down at the cat that is now circling between Bucky’s bare feet. “And Alpine really is cute. I can’t imagine he’s a menace.”

“Just wait until you get to know him,” Bucky says. “Can I get you anything else doll?”

“No. Thank you and again I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“No problem at all. I had a late night at the office and I was just being lazy. If you need anything else just come by. Anytime.”

His lips turn up in a boyish grin and he winks again.

You can feel his eyes on you as you turn and walk out into the hall and toward your apartment. Just as you push your door open you look over your shoulder and catch him staring, his teeth dug deep into his bottom lip.

The knock at your door startles you from your unpacking trance and from your spot on the floor, surrounded by open boxes and a mess of things, you ask, “who is it?”

“It’s Bucky…and I have food.”

Your smile is impossible to hide and you shout back, “come in!”

Bucky appears in the doorway with a pizza box.

“Hiya doll face,” he chimes. “I figured you’d need some fuel.”

You drag yourself out of the mess on the floor and hop up onto the edge of the counter.

“Thanks Bucky. I really appreciate it, but you’re spoiling me. What is it now…the third time this week you’re feeding me?”

He hands you a slice and then stands there, watching while you take a bite.

“And why not? You need to eat and I love to eat, might as well do it together!”

You laugh through your bite. “Then what motivated you to help with my furniture?”

He shrugs and grabs a slice of pizza, shoving half into his mouth before he answers.

“Perfect opportunity to show off my muscles.”

He waggles his brows suggestively and flexes a bicep.

“Double win for me,” you admit, licking your lips. “How will I ever repay you.”

He remains quiet for several moments while he studies you then asks, “how about a real dinner?”

“Pizza is the realest dinner there is!” you state with a mouthful.

“Let me take you out. For something other than pizza.”  

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Would you say yes if I were?”

Your legs swing back and forth at the knee as you finish your bite and then place your slice of pizza down. You reach over the box and grab the marker you left out on the counter, placing it between your lips.

Watching him from under your lashes, you take his arm and roll up the sleeve of his Henley and when your fingertips make contact with the sensitive skin on his underside of his forearm you can feel his muscles tighten.

Your mouth curves around the marker at his reaction and you pluck it from between your lips and start writing on his skin.

“Now you’ve got my number. Text me and we’ll pick a date for our date.”

“Thank you,” he says, leaning in close and dropping his eyes to your mouth.

Your lips part with your small gasp of air and when his thumb lifts to brush along the corner of your mouth you let out a rush of air.

“Sauce,” he states before he licks his finger clean, his gaze locked on yours.

You nod as he steps back and pulls out his phone to dial your number on his arm. Your phone rings and he says, “and now you’ve got mine.”

You spend the rest of your weekend unpacking and doing errands, running into Bucky only once in a frantic rush of laundry. He offers to help but you know if you let him you’ll become distracted and never get anything done. The two of you text back and forth, deciding on Saturday for your official date. No pizza involved.

The next morning you get another text from him.

“Morning doll face. Don’t forget an umbrella. Gonna rain later today.”

“Are you the weather man now?” you message back, smiling at your phone.

“Nah. Just a friendly neighbor.”

“Did you tell everyone in the building about the rain and remind them to bring an umbrella.”

“Just you…”

“Thanks, but I’m already half way to work sans umbrella.”

“Damn it. I knew I should have texted earlier. Now if you get caught in the rain it’ll be all my fault.”

“Hardly! I should have checked the weather. Can’t rely on you for everything can I?”

He sends a wink face.

“Is it Saturday yet?”

“Still only Monday morning. What’s Saturday?”

“Don’t tease me doll. I’ve been looking forward to this date since you showed up at my door lookin’ for sugar.”

“Have a good day Bucky.”

“You too doll…stay dry.”

You’re only two blocks from your apartment building when the sky opens up and the rain comes down in buckets. By the time you reach the doors you’re soaked through and cursing at yourself for forgetting an umbrella.

The door attendant lets you in with a sympathetic smile and as you’re sloshing past him and toward the elevator you hear Bucky’s voice.

“Oh doll. Look at you.”

He tugs his mail from the box and slams it shut, rushing toward you and taking your arm.

“Soaked,” you say sadly.

“I can see that,” he muses with a twitch of his perfect lips. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs and dry.”

The elevator doors open and you step inside with a shiver. He immediately starts to pull your jacket from your shoulders.

“What are you doing?” you ask without stopping him.

“You have to get out of this jacket. I’m sure your shirt is….”

He stops speaking when his eyes catch sight of your white button down, soaked through so that you can see the lace of your bra outlined against the fabric.

“Fuck,” he mutters, dragging his eyes back to your face. “Here.”

He shrugs off his damp jacket and then takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.

“But it’ll get all wet,” you protest.

“Don’t care. You can’t walk out of the elevator like that.”

His jaw is set in a hard line as his fingers work over the scruff that lines it. The elevator dings at your floor and he takes your hand, leading you out and checking the hallway.

“Why are you looking around like that?” you ask.

He turns back to you and tugs you closer. “I don’t wanna anyone seeing you.”

“Why not?”

“Because then I’ll have to kill them,” he states.

“Someone is acting a little jealous,” you giggle.

“Yeah well…we haven’t even had our first date yet. Can’t have someone looking at what’s about to be mine.”

“Yours,” you breathe out, not even realizing you’re now standing in front of your apartment door.

With shaky fingers you start to remove his suit jacket but before you can he stops you with a hand on your wrist.

“Don’t doll. Just keep it for now.”

“But we’re at the door. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but if you take that off then I have to see you in your wet shirt again. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself if I do.”

“Control yourself how?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

He responds with a pained groan before his mouth meets yours and he has you pressed against the door.

Even though your shirt is soaked through and your skin is cold you can feel the warmth of his body seep into yours. You wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself and he lifts one hand to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.

Your scrape your nails along his broad shoulders and he moans out your name.

“Fuck, I love having your hands on me.”

The desperation in his voice has you arching into him and you drop your head against the door, giving him access to trail his lips down your neck. Your fingers slide into his hair and tug at the soft strands. He growls into your skin and scrapes his teeth over your pulse point making you gasp his name.

“Oh I like that,” you whisper.

He does it again.

“You’re going to like everything I do to you doll face.”

His lips graze yours and he swallows your whimper, crowding you closer to the door before muttering out a curse and letting you both take a breath.

“Is it Saturday yet?” he asks, still breathless.

“Still Monday,” you answer, feeling just the same.

“Right,” he says, planting his hands on the door above your head and dropping his head forward.

A door down the hall opens and he pauses, straightening his body to hide your own. You both smile at the older lady who walks by with a questioning look.

When Bucky’s eyes return to you they drop to where he spread his jacket open to put his hands on you, your shirt sticking to your wet skin even more now.

He stares before reluctantly dragging his eyes up and taking the sides of the material and pulling them tightly around you.

You tremble.

“Still cold?” he asks, his eyes soft with worry.

“Hardly,” you answer and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“See you later Bucky.”

“I’m counting on it doll.”

You spend the rest of the week juggling your time between work, texting Bucky and sleeping. You’ve only seen him once since Monday evening and that was for five minutes when he caught you coming home again but this time he had his friend Steve with him and there was no chance for any kissing.

Saturday morning rolls around and you wake up to a text from him.

“It is finally Saturday or am I dreaming?”

“It’s really Saturday!”

“Thank fuck! Can we start our date now?”

“No…I have to do girly things and prepare.”

“What kinds of things….?”

“I’ll see you tonight Buck.”

You can almost hear his groan through the phone.

“I’ll be at your door at 7 sharp.”

Bucky knocks on your apartment door at exactly the same time your phone clock hits 7:00pm. You grin at your best friend Nat before she gets up and walks toward the door.

“Oh girl. He’s hot!” a muffled voice says from the other side.

It isn’t yours so Bucky assumes it’s your friend.

“He’s at least a nine.”

Bucky scoffs, muttering, “a nine?” quietly to himself.

“Hey, I can hear you in there. Are you gonna open the door?” he asks the unknown voice.

The door swings open to reveal a red head who looks him over with two scrutinizing green eyes.

“Hi,” he smiles, holding out his hand. “I’m Bu…”

“Bucky,” she finishes. “I know who you are…question is…do you know who I am?”

“You must be Natasha,” Bucky answers with a smug smile.

“That’s right and I’m a black belt in jiu jitsu so you do anything I don’t like and I will end you.”

Bucky’s eyes light up and he watches Nat as she moves toward the kitchen.

“You almost ready doll face,” he yells, not taking his eyes off Nat in case she goes for a knife.

“I’m right here,” you say.

Bucky turns to find you standing right in front of him. His mouth drops open as his eyes sweep you up and down.

“This is where you say she looks amazing,” Nat admonishes from the kitchen, dangerously close to the knife rack.

However, Bucky’s eyes never leave you and when he steps into your space and wraps you in his arms, pulling you into his chest, you let out a squeal of delight.

“You look fucking gorgeous,” he says, loud enough for Nat to hear, then whispers, only for your ears, “I want to rip this dress off you.”

Your lips spread into a sly smile. “We made the right choice Nat.”

“Of course we did,” she chimes. “Now go. I’ll lock up.”

“I’m so ready,” he says, ushering you toward the door, but not before turning to Nat, still in the kitchen eyeing him warily, and asking, “I’m good with a nine, but just out of curiosity, what did I lose a point for?”

“You’re really gonna make me say it in front of you?” Nat asks.

“I wanna hear it too Nat,” you say, raising an expectant and skeptical brow.

“You didn’t shave.”

He runs the free hand, the one not wrapped around your waist, over his jaw.

“I didn’t get any complaints earlier this week,” Bucky says, eyes now sparkling with mischief.

“He’s right Nat,” you add. “I like it.”

Nat rolls her eyes and shoos you away.

Once you’re safely in the elevator and away from prying eyes Bucky invades your space, plastering you against the cool metal wall and caging you there with his large body.

“It almost killed me to not be kissing you for the past five minutes,” he says against your lips.

When you press into him and slide your body along his it sucks the breath right out of his lungs and fills them with something else. Need.

The kiss pulls a throaty groan from him and his belt buckle digs into your skin, the muscles hidden beneath his clothes, pressing and flexing over the thin material of your dress.

The elevator door dings and begins to slide open, causing you to give his chest a gentle shove.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he asks as he lifts a finger and traces your swollen lips.

“That would suck,” you reply. “I kind of like having you as a neighbor.”

After a delicious dinner at a roof top restaurant down town, Bucky walks you along the street, hand in hand, as you listen and laugh to his childhood stories about growing up in Brooklyn.

“Where are we going now?” you ask.

“It’s a surprise,” he says as he twirls you into his side and presses his fingers under your chin to steal a kiss.

As you get closer to your destination the bright lights sparkle and the smell of the ocean is carried on the warm breeze.

“Which bridge is that?” you ask with awe.

“The Brooklyn Bridge,” he tells you and grabs your hand to pull you along. “Come on. I have something to show you.”

When you reach the top of the look out he slides an arm around your waist and pulls your back to his chest.

“This is so beautiful Bucky,” you whisper.

He kisses your cheek and takes your chin between his fingers, turning your face up to his. “I always thought it was the most beautiful thing in the city…but not anymore.”

You’re thankful for his strong arms holding you up and after a sweet kiss you enjoy the view in comfortable silence for a few more minutes but his hands start to wander, soft and sure, and with each passing touch your body aches for more.

His warm breath fans across your neck and his arm moves lower until his hand grasps your hip and he pulls you back to feel the hardness between his legs.

You suck in a breath and fight the urge to move against him.

With a curse he pulls away and grabs your hand, dragging you toward the park under the bridge. The only lights come from the lit-up buildings across the street and when he finds a hidden spot he backs you against the cold stone but you’re too hot to care.

“Bucky,” you whisper as your hands roam over his broad chest.

His mouth brushes yours before he gently nips at your bottom lip.

“I can’t even keep my fucking hands off you long enough to bring you home,” he murmurs.

His fingers find the hem of your dress and he slides them under, slowly teasing the fabric higher until his hand brushes over the wetness on your panties.

“Please, Bucky,” you pant.

“Fuck, I love hearing you say my name like that,” he growls. “I need to get you home so I can hear you scream it for me.”

@hiddles-rose @littleseasiren @randomfandompenguin @blackwidownat2814 @goldylions @buckysdollforlife @lizette50

[runningatypufullspeed]

Beatty looks SO FUCKING UGLY. WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE THAT. Um. Well ignoring what they usually say about getting the short stick when it comes to artistic expertise and whatnot I would actually argue that it’s his PERSONALITY that makes him ugly, not my horrible drawing skills. Haha! Take that Beatty! DIE WHITE BOY DIE

Listen guys (fahahahahahaha!! Guh-HEES 😂 like the one from FARHENHEIT for 4️⃣ five ✋ WON 🏆)I swear I’ve got art it’s just I’m too lazy to actualycrop it properly and andand I’m really shy abour sharing thesethings I’m looking bacj and they kinda ugky….. I don’t know maybe in the near future but for now I’m content stewing in my sorry puddle of hpfx shame

[hatkuu]

dw i AM slowly returning to my kylar roots...imagine kylar walking in on you wearing his hoodie...i think he would scream and faint and die. he would be so torn between wanting you to keep it forever bc you look so cute and wearing his clothes in public would affirm that you belong to him but also wanting it back so he can smell it and breathe in your scent (and not do nefarious things with it)

hngnnggg yeah im glad ur coming back to ur kylar roots... i missed you nica please come rave about kylar's cock with me again :'(

uuuggghhh especially if you make it out to be something innocent like you spending the night at his house (bestie kylar sleepover....) and it gets really cold!!!

gen! reader and m! kylar utc <3

Kylar hates the feeling of water against his skin. It never really sticks, or cleans anything. His skin is overly sensitive, flaring up against his will if he scrubs too hard or uses any scented soaps. He's given up on making himself attractive to others, and yet—

He's hiding in the bathroom while you're cuddled up in his bed.

He thought he'd be all over you, panting and drooling, lapping at your lips until they parted just enough that he could taste you. Maybe you'd face him, breathing in his exhales and sharing oxygen with one another until you fell asleep. Or... Maybe you'd face away from him, letting him guard you where you're most vulnerable, baring yourself in a way that you've never let anyone else see you. He'd be unable to resist you, then. He'd drool onto your hair, mindlessly grinding his cock against you until you wake. You'd help him out, as graceful and kind as you are—you'd turn to face him, burying your face in his neck and clinging so tight that his chest would burn. Not from legs wrapped so tightly around his waist. Only from the sheer love and affection you're spoiling him with���something he hasn't felt in so long.

The faucet before him groans, on the brink of filling up the sink. Kylar has the mind to turn it off before his whole body locks up.

"Ky-Ky? Are you okay...?"

He hears your sweetened tone from beyond the bathroom door, your knuckles gently rapping at the wood to gain his attention. So cute. Of course you'd check if he's okay! He stumbles to the door, fumbling with the lock as his wet hands slip against the door handle. You're probably so lonely without him! He's upset with himself for losing track of time and leaving you alone in bed when the two of you could've been snuggled up against one another. He finally unlatches the door, breathing heavy at the prospect of you being just behind the thin plywood.

The door slams open and Kylar's smile falls from his face.

You're now wearing a hoodie. He's kind of disappointed that he won't be able to touch as much of your skin. The hoodie you're wearing looks worn. It's fraying at the sleeves, stained various different colours at it's front, he's never actually seen you wear it before so it can't possibly be new—

His hoodie.

You're wearing his hoodie.

You fiddle with the sleeves as you speak, shyly looking at your feet while he gapes at you. "Sorry... It got cold while you were in the bathroom. I can take it off if you want?"

You look so cute. So very, very cute that Kylar can only stare at you, open-mouthed. He thinks about what it'd imply if you started wearing his clothes at school—no, even better if you just wore his clothes entirely—maybe he should offer you a pair of his sweatpants too, in case your legs get cold. He thinks about it, but then looks at the deliciously smooth skin of your thighs, and decides against it.

Kylar shakes his head quickly, commiting the image of you in his hoodie to memory. "N-No! It's fine, um, you can raid my whole wardrobe if you like... Haha..."

Kylar makes a note to start stealing more of your hoodies and long-sleeved shirts, just so he can see you in more of his.

You stare at him for another second, smiling at the cute expression on his face. Then your smile turns upside down into a confused pout. "Why's your face all wet?"

Kylar blushes choking on his own embarrassment, tugging you back to bed. "I brushed my teeth," He lies, tucking you in as he crawls in beside you, covering the two of you with a worn-out sheet. He purposefully hid the other thicker sheets underneath his bed so the two of you had no choice but to cuddle for warmth tonight. He smiles as you roll over, bidding him a quick goodnight before shuffling your rear painfully close to his crotch. You grab one of his arms, pulling it over you before yawning softly and closing your eyes.

"Goodnight, my love." He mumbles into your hair, voice addled with sleepiness.

He leans forward, burying his face in your hair and the soft hood of his hoodie. You smell good on your own, but you smell even better mixed with the scent of him. Like he's claimed you.

[jjkamochoso]

Carhartt? More like Car Heart to Heart

NoCursesAU!Choso x female reader

Angst, fluff

Reader and Choso go for a late night drive (inspired by “Streetlights” by Elko)

Warnings: cussing

“Fuck you! We’re over!” you screamed, car keys grasped in your hands as you slammed the front door behind you. Your heart was racing in your chest, ready to burst out of your skin. You knew it probably wasn’t the best idea to be driving while in this enraged state of mind but you had to get out that house immediately. You and your boyfr—well, you weren’t sure what to call him. You had been seeing this guy for a few months. You two were supposed to be exclusive, sure, but there weren’t any real labels on what you two were. It didn’t matter anyway. That relationship was as good as dead now. You and him had actually just gotten into a big fight about the label, the lack of, rather, on your relationship. You’d dwell on the details of that fight later. The problem now was where to go. You were in between places at the moment and had been living with your now ex at his house for the time being. Thankfully most of your belongings were in storage, but you dreaded having to go back to the house for some of your personal belongings. You just hoped he hadn’t trashed anything. Putting your car into drive, you raced away from that place as fast as you could without sparing it a second glance. As you sped through the city, tears threatened to fall as streetlights lit your path. It was 1:30 in the morning and all of your friends were asleep; all, you knew, except one. As you pulled into his apartment complex, you took a deep, shuddering breath. There was a slight breeze as you exited the car and you felt goosebumps appear all over your skin. Although he lived in a safe area, you were still scared as you locked your car and ran up to his door, knocking frantically. You prayed he would hear your knocks over the sound of his video games that kept him up all hours of the night. As you kept your knuckles rapping on the door, your other hand was digging through your purse for your phone to call him. However, there was no need. You faltered slightly as the door opened and you were met with concerned brown eyes.

“Y/n? What—“

“Choso!” you cried out, throwing yourself at him in a tight hug as your tears began to flow. You felt him back up and shift around, bringing your body with him so that he could close and lock the door. You felt his strong arms grip you tight, resting his chin on your head while his hands moved up and down your back in an attempt to soothe you. Your crying finally slowed into emotionally drained hiccups and Choso took that as a sign that it was okay to let go for a few moments.

“I’m so sorry to just show up like this, I just had nowhere else to go and—“

“Y/n,” Choso said, calm and with a little smile, “whatever happened, it’s okay. I’m glad you made it here alright, given the state you’re in.”

You wanted to be mad at his crack of a joke, but he was right. You were a whole mess right now.

“I’m sorry to pull you away from your game,” you motioned to his headphones that were hanging haphazardly around his neck and the game that was sitting abandoned on the tv. Choso furrowed his brow.

“It’s totally fine, it’s just a game. You’re much more important,” he said. You felt your heart flutter at his words. Anything Choso said, he said with such conviction and passion. He was the greatest friend anyone could ask for. He was reliable, kind, passionate. You’d had the biggest crush on him for years and years but you could never risk losing his friendship in case he didn’t feel the same. Sometimes, when he said things like that, and looked at you with that unwavering eye contact and soft smile, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he felt the same.

“Hey guys, I gotta go, my friend needs me right now. Yes, it’s important. Oh, haha, very funny. Okay, bye, I’m logging off now.” Taking off his microphoned headphones, Choso turned off the tv as well. “You wanna go for a drive? I know that usually relaxes you.”

You nodded in agreement. Choso grabbed you a blanket off his couch, holding it open to help you get wrapped into it. Then he put on his leather jacket over the grey sweatshirt he was wearing and picked up his keys.

“You ready?”

You felt so much safer walking in the parking lot with Choso. He worked out often, that you knew, and he was most likely ripped, that you wished you knew. He opened the passenger door for you and you thanked him. Even though he does this kind of thing all the time, tonight felt different. Was it because it was so late at night? Was it the stress of the breakup? Or do streetlights just cast an ethereal look over attractive men who wear space buns? As he pulled the car out of the lot, you began to unpack everything that happened.

“Jake and I had a fight. It shouldn’t have gotten that big or that explosive, but it just got out of control and I broke it off.”

You couldn’t figure out the look that Choso had on his face. Was it… relief?

“Oh thank god! Y/n, he was a horrible dude. We all hated him anyway.”

“Is this the time where you say ‘I told you so’ and start making fun of me for being an idiot?”

The raven haired man laughed slightly and spared you a quick glance before looking back at the road.

“Yes to the ‘I told you so’ part but I would never call you an idiot. Love makes you do weird things.”

You scoffed.

“Trust me, there was no love there. We’d been together for months and he couldn’t even call me his girlfriend. Not even after I moved in with him! Not to mention, I thought we were exclusive. That’s how the whole fight started. I asked him why he couldn’t be my boyfriend and the whole thing tumbled into me finding out he’d been seeing other girls on the side.” You noticed Choso’s jaw clench at the mention of infidelity. “I mean, am I in the wrong?”

Now it was Choso’s turn to scoff.

“He cheats on you and you’re wondering if you’re in the wrong? You are seriously too good for this world. Y/n, the guy’s trash. I wouldn’t even give him a second thought. He didn’t deserve you and all the good things you have to offer.” The car plugged along, Choso’s knuckles going white at how hard he was gripping the wheel. “I just can’t believe how he could fumble a girl like you. How he could miss the great thing he had right in front of his eyes. Besides the fact that he couldn’t even offer you basic fucking respect. You don’t deserve to feel like that!”

“Choso,” you gently laid a hand on his arm, “I appreciate your passion but you don’t have to get so upset on behalf of me.”

“How can I not when I-” He cut himself off, changing the subject. “There’s that park you like coming up, I’m going to stop there for a second.”

When he pulled into the quiet parking lot, the car was filled with silence as well. Choso groaned, putting his face in his hands, and resting his forehead on the top of the steering wheel.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. You’re one of my closest friends and I only want the best for you. I just get so upset seeing these guys take advantage of you and your kindness. You deserve someone who will open car doors for you, someone who listens to you and understands you. Someone who’s only wish is to be around you at all times. Someone who respects and worships you. Someone who loves you completely and unconditionally. Someone—“

“Like you,” you finished. “Someone like you.”

You’d never seen a person whip their head over to look at you as fast as Choso did in that moment. You were tired of hiding how you felt. Who else would be there for you at the early hours of the morning, offering you sympathy and a shoulder to cry on? Who do you call when you want to talk about something that happened at work, who do you text when you see a silly little snail on the sidewalk? Who do you want to wake up to every morning and eat breakfast with? Who do you want to eat dinner with and go to bed with? Who do you want to kiss and caress for the rest of your life? It’s Choso.

It’s always been Choso.

“What?” His voiced was barely louder than a whisper.

“You, Choso. I’ve been in love with you for years, I’m surprised you never saw it. The guys I dated, they were just distractions from the fact that I had my dream guy right in front of me the whole time, just barely out of reach.”

His big brown eyes with the slight bags under them from lack of sleep were boring into your own, frantically scanning your face for any sign of deceit. After what felt like hours, he finally spoke once more.

“You’re not joking, right?” he asked, and you shook your head.

“No fucking way am I joking about this.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and let out a slight chuckle. “I’ve been enamored, head over heels in love with you since the day we met. I always felt you were too good for me, that’s why I never said anything.”

“God, we’re such losers. We really are perfect for each other, aren’t we?” you asked, giggling.

“You know, there’s one way to make sure we really fit together.”

“And what’s that?”

“This.”

Choso leaned in toward you slowly, giving you enough time to back away if needed. There was no need, however, because you’d spent years dreaming of the moment you could kiss Choso Kamo. When your lips met, it was like all was right in the world. His soft pink lips meshed perfectly with your own. Even though it was a bit of an awkward angle, being in the car and all, it was still perfectly romantic. When Choso rested his hand on your cheek, you felt like you were going to faint. It was like a scene straight out of a movie. The kiss wasn’t too long, but made your heart skip a couple beats just the same. When you broke away, both of your faces were warm with blushes and you two couldn’t stop smiling.

“So, what’s next for us?” you asked.

“Hmm,” answered Choso, “I’m thinking we head back to your ex’s shithole of a house, you get everything you need, and come stay at my place however long you feel like.”

Your face lit up with a bright smile. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

Choso looked at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. “I would do anything for you, my darling.”

You gave him a kiss on the cheek and held his hand as the car pulled out of the lot and into your happily ever after.

[atom-writings]

what about hetalia main 8 react to walking in on you changing or something? u dont have to do it if u dont want to ofc and it doesnt have to have any actual nsfw stuff

(Hetalia Main 8 x Reader) Walking in on you changing!

(Gender Neutral) Scenarios ~ A/N ohohohoOHOHOHO,,,,,,.,. <- sorry what who was that guy haha im normal im so normal about this

Trigger Warning: Kind of suggestive content, but NOT NSFW!!! Swearing. Fem nickname used one, fem descriptor used once.

“Babe, I was wondering-” Alfred said as he opened the door to your bedroom,

“WAIT- WAIT!” You yelp in response, running to stop the door.

Upon hearing your cry, he looks up from his phone. Then, he freezes in place, his eyes wide as saucers. Awkwardly, he tries to sputter out some kind of response, doing nothing but making extremely intense eye contact with you.

Until he breaks, his eyes darting down to your partially unclothed body for no more than a second.

“ALFRED!”

“You look absolutely smoking, I gotta say-” he says, trying to hold back giggles before you growl loudly in response.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He yells back, frantically backing out of the doorway. You run forward, slamming the door in his face. With your back against the door, you breathe a sigh of relief before he begins knocking on the door.

“W-Wait, I had something to show you!”

“You lost the privilege to see me!”“Aw, man…” You hear Alfred say as he walks away, probably pouting like a little kid.

“Darling, are you done yet?”  Arthur asks, rapping his knuckles against the door.

“Arthur-” You start to respond, before he begins opening the door, “WAIT!”

You run to the bed, trying to grab a blanket to cover yourself with. But all that really did was leave you in perfect view, only wearing your undergarments. You jerked awkwardly to look at the door, only to see Arthur there, frozen in shock.

His mouth agape, his face flushed, and his eyes firmly locked onto your body. Your heart dropped.

“Wh-what the hell?!” You yell, to no response. Heat rises to your cheeks as you see his hungry eyes still not leaving your form.

“ARTHUR!”

“Huh?” He responds, clearly not paying attention to what you said.

“GET OUT!” 

“Hold on, wha-what?” He finally comes to, looking up into your eyes. Clearly, he still wasn’t listening.

“I said to GET OUT! I’m changing for fuck’s sake!” Your voice filled with anger.

“Right. Right, yes. I’m- I’ll do that.” He looks at you with a scared expression, backing out of the room awkwardly.

“I-I’m sorry for staring, love!” You hear him yell through the door moments later, clearly panicked.

“Shut it, perv!”

Before you could even react, Francis burst into your room. You froze, still in the process of taking off your shirt.

“My love!” He gestures dramatically, his eyes closed for effect, “I ju- oh.”

When he lays eyes on your body, his face drops. You just stared into his eyes awkwardly, as his expression changes to a wide smile.

“Well, aren’t you such an attractive little thing!” he remarks, slowing walking towards you.

“F-Francis!” You shoot back in disbelief,

“What? It’s just your body!”

“Y-YEAH! Get out already!”

“Come on, I’m not judging you!” He tries to lay a hand on your waist, before you push him away.

“Francis, for fuck’s sake!”

“Oh, alright! If it bothers you that much…” He looks disappointed as he turns away, exiting your room. You sigh exasperatedly before you’re interrupted by him peaking him head back in quickly. Although at least this time, his eyes are closed.

“Don’t be ashamed of your body, Y/N!”

“I told you to get out!”

“And I’m telling you I just finished dinner!”

“Coming in!” Yao announces, not waiting for a response before he opens the door to your bedroom.

“ONE MINUTE! W-WAIT!” You try to stop him, running to grab the door handle. But you stop just in time to come up to him, nearly touching noses. His eyes widen for a second in surprise, before returning to his usual distant stare.

With that stare, he slowly looked you up and down. Wearing nothing but your undergarments, you began to blush, at a loss for words.

“Cute,” he remarks simply, returning to look you in your bewildered eyes.

“Anyway. Your show is about to be on. Don’t take too long,” he says before shutting the door, still with a relatively blank expression. Leaving you there, wearing next to nothing, still wildly flushed.

What the hell was that?

Before you could even react, you heard your bedroom door opening from behind you. You struggled to turn around, your pants bunched around your legs. But before you could see who it was, you heard a loud familiar yelp.

In only a few seconds, you saw Ivan slap his hands over his face, clearly blushing bright red.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t see anything!” He stuttered out, frantically exiting the room. Barely even giving you time to process the exchange.

-

“Ivan?” You ask quietly from behind him, causing him to jump in surprise.

“Y-yes?” He turns around to face you, but he desperately searches for anything in the room to look at.

“You don’t have to be so embarrassed, you know.”

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t- I promise-”

“It’s fine!”

“N-no! I do not want to make you uncomfortable!” He pleads as you place a hand gently on his arm.

“We’re dating, it’s awkward but it’s fine, promise.”

“If… if you say so.” He relaxes slightly.

“Now can we move on?”“Yes! But-but… um… one thing.  You’re… really pretty.” Ivan says, taking your hand in his, still blushing.

“Belllaaaaaa~” Feliciano calls, bursting into your room without even a second’s warning. And because of that absence of warning, he was immediately greeted with the sight of you, with absolutely no semblance of a top on.

As you spun around to yell at him, he immediately ran up to you. Taking your hands in his like he had done absolutely nothing wrong, he smiled.

“You look so absolutely perfect today!” He gushes, tucking a hair behind your ear as you lean away from him in surprise.

“F-Feliciano?!”  You struggle to sputter out.

“What? What is it, my love?”

“I- Uh, wh-what?” You stutter in disbelief.

“Huh?”

“Get out! I’m changing! Can’t you see that?!”

“Yeah, but why does that matter?” He cocks his head to the side questioningly.

“Get out!”

“But bella-”

“Feliciano!” You yell. His face drops, looking like a kicked puppy. He starts walking towards the door, before turning to face you again.

“Can’t I see you like that?”

“NOT NOW!”

“F-Fine!” He responds as shuffles awkwardly out the door.

“Can I come in?” Ludwig asks as he knocks on your bedroom door.

“W-Wait!” 

“Alright, so-” he continues, opening the door to see you, with only a pair of sweatpants on. 

As you yell in surprise, he yells back, just as loud. Immediately, his face flushes and he slaps his hand over his eyes. 

“I’m-I’m so sorry, Y/N!” His voice strains.

“I told you to wait!”

“I didn’t hear!  I t-thought you were done!”

“HOW?!”

“I’m sorry!” Ludwig yells, clearly incredibly embarrassed as his face continues to grow more red. He fumbles behind him with one hand, trying to open the door while his other hand is still clasped over his eyes.

“I only saw for a second! I promise!”

You groan, “A little more to the left,”

He finally grasps the door handle, desperately opening the door and running out.

“Dear, I promise I didn’t mean to!” He yells through the door.

“I GOT THAT!”

You shot around, mid-taking off your pants, as you heard your door knob turn. 

“Hold o-” Before you could even tell him to wait, Kiku opened the door, just to see you barely clothed. With no sound between you, he froze, his eyes wide as he looked you up and down.

“I…  um-” you start to say before he slowly backs out of the doorway, his eyes still locked on your body. His face was flush, nearly as red as a tomato, yet he said absolutely nothing as he left the room. 

-

“You want to talk about you walking in on me?” You ask, sitting down next to him hours later. The moment you bring it up, his face turns red once again and he begins sitting awkwardly.

“I’m very, very sorry.” He responds quietly, bringing his book up closer to his face. 

“I- it’s ok… but do you not knock usually?”

“I didn’t think you were doing anything…”

“Well, I was, so from now on…  please knock.” He nods slowly, still not looking you in the eyes. 

He pauses for a few seconds, “You look very nice…”

“KIKU!”

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

RWBY vs KRML

Ruby: *Twirls CR* Well Hello There~

Meliny: *Loading Budge* Um. Hi?

Ruby: Oh! Sorry, I was talking to the Gun!

~~~~~

Meliny: Does that thing get heavy?

Ruby: Nah, my Baby it perfectly weighted~

Meliny: Cool.

~~~~~

Weiss: *Cycles Dust* Hello Remington. You seem well.

Remi: *Flourishing Levy* I am Feeling Better. It is a Pleasure to see you again.

Weiss: That is excellent News. I ... I had missed you. It's good to see you as well.

~~~~~

Remi: *Loading his Revolvers* Hey, Weiss, I want to apologize for being so Abrasive when we last saw each other. These guys have really Helped me come out of my shell.

Weiss: *Curtsy* Yeah, My team has tdone the same for me. You're forgiven.

Remi: I'm Forgiven? That Easy? Alright then! Let's Roll!

~~~~~

Blake: *Swings in* You must Be Marigold. I've heard a fair amount about you.

Marigold: *Stands Tall, Points sword at Blake* Aye! And a little Birdie told me you were one them Belladonnas! Seem our Reputations precede us.!

Blake: ... And Now I've heard From you. Hi.

~~~~~

Marigold: *Accidently sets off Hookshot, retracts it* Heya Catsup! How's the Family?

Blake: I could ask you the same question, Privateer.

Marigold: ... So that's how We're going at it, Aye?

~~~~~

Yang: *Punches Knuckles, Burn ignites* Wil, Wil, Wil, Look Who we've got here!

Wilhelm: *Nocks Bolt* Oh? Xiao-Long You been hanging onto that one?

Yang: Haha! Looks like we got a fight on hands!

~~~~~

Wilhelm: *Raps Crossbow against Shield* Come and GET SOME BLONDIE!

Yang: *Riding in on Bmblb* WITH THIS ENERGY! GLADLY!

Wilhelm: THIS BATTLE SHALL BE ONE OF LEGEND!

~~~~

Bonus

Ruby: *Petal bursts in* Ooh! Are those Dual Chamber Dust infusion Revolvers?

Remi: *Loading Revolvers* Yep! That's a custom scythe, yeah? That Blade collapsing mechanism seems really tough for how thin it is!

Ruby: Ah, Thank you! My baby is my pride and joy!

Remi: Yeah, Well my pals here are some of my finest work - the most consistent and versatile tools I have! Carbon steel blade edge-

Ruby: With a custom Steel/Aluminum mixture for Weight, Strength, and-

Both: Heat sinking, because repeated firing increases weight of wear and results in damage to the edge of the blade unless the barrel is properly cooled ...

NO CONTEST

[drabbles-mc]

Caught in the Act

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Jake "Hangman" Seresin Robert "Bob" Floyd & Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol, semi-public hookup

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I always have such a fun time writing Rooster and Hangman haha. Wrote this for a fandom exchange a little while back and finally get to post it here, too! Protect Bob Floyd at all costs 🥰

Top Gun Taglist: @garbinge @proceduralpassion (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Bradley knew from the jump that whatever it was that he and Jake had gotten themselves into, it wasn’t going to be anyone else’s business. Things got messy enough without throwing their, well, he felt like calling it a relationship maybe gave it more weight than it deserved, but it was the closest word he could come up with. Things got messy enough without throwing their ‘relationship’ into the mix with the rest of it. He didn’t need anyone else knowing about it. He knew that Jake felt the same way. Neither of them ever said it, but they didn’t have to. Talking wasn’t really their strong suit, anyhow.

Some days it felt like they were tempting fate more than others. It was nothing to keep up their usual brand of antagonism in front of everyone else. Hell, they still kept up most of that even when it was just the two of them, too. Bradley was fairly certain Jake considered getting under his skin some brand of foreplay. His annoyance was compounded by the fact that it was an effective tactic. But when Jake punctuated every verbal barb with one of his slick little smirks, or by gripping onto Bradley’s shoulder for a brief moment, it was hard not to get drawn into the frenzy of it all. They all had a little bit of a self-destructive streak to keep doing the work they were doing. Bradley and Jake just let theirs bleed over into their personal relationships too. No one had to be the wiser.

Jake was leaning against the bar at The Hard Deck, patiently waiting for the next round of beers that he’d ordered for everyone. He was half-tuned into the conversations happening on either side of him, shaking his head at some of it because he just couldn’t help himself.

He tensed up when someone materialized beside him, body pressed so closely to his that their arms and shoulders were pinned to each other’s. He turned, annoyance all over his face and a comment on the tip of his tongue about how there was more than enough bar to make it so that whoever it was didn’t have to practically be on top of him. When he turned and saw Bradley, though, his annoyance faded and shifted into a completely different type of tension.

He spared the briefest look back over his shoulder, just to make sure that everyone else was still too preoccupied to be paying attention to them. Looking back at Bradley, he spoke loud enough to make sure he heard him, but quiet enough so that the rest of the bar didn’t hear him too. “Don’t be stupid.”

Bradley shrugged, shoulder somehow managing to press tighter against Jake’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Listen, Bradshaw,” Jake grit out, frustration mounting quickly in the way that only ever seemed to happen when it was the two of them, “I’m not lookin’ to—”

“Don’t start lying now,” Bradley said with a chuckle. He seemed perfectly unbothered which only served to annoy Jake even more. It wasn’t often that he turned their usual dynamics upside-down, but when he did, it still seemed to work just as well.

He gave a tight shake of his head. “Not the time,” he briefly scanned over the hustle and bustle of bar, “or the goddamn place.”

When Bradley turned to look at Jake head-on, there was a cocky smirk on his face, one that confirmed that he had been spending far too much time around Jake. “It could be.”

“I—”

“See you in five,” Bradley didn’t even let him get a word out. He lightly rapped his knuckles against the top of the bar before prying himself away. He strode off so easily, like nothing had even transpired between them.

Jake wished that he was in the same boat. When Penny came back with beer bottles in hand, Jake had nearly forgotten that the reason he was standing at the bar was because he was waiting for another round. He recovered quickly, flashing her the same charming smile and wink he always did, the same smile and wink that never impressed her and probably never would. But it was part of the routine now.

He was practically tossing the beer bottles to everyone when he got back. Natasha took one bottle from him, giving him a skeptical look as she did. “What’d you say to Bradshaw that had him taking off like that?”

Jake gave an easy smile despite the shot of fear that went down his spine at her question. “You know Rooster—always a little too sensitive for his own good.”

She hummed, an expression of disbelief written all over her face. “Yeah, sounds like him alright,” she said sarcastically. She wasn’t going to press him about any of it but she wasn’t going to pretend to believe him, either.

Jake hung around for another minute just so that it wouldn’t be too noticeable when he slithered his way out of the crowd. He wondered if it’d even been five minutes. Had it been two? Ten? Each second felt like an hour at that point. He wondered if Bradley was even going to be there, or if he had taken off just to drag out the game of cat and mouse a little longer.

He pushed open the heavy wooden door, landing himself in the cramped but always clean and tidy space of The Hard Deck’s men’s room. He hardly had a second to get his wits about him when suddenly Bradley’s lips were on his, hands balled into his nicely pressed uniform.

Jake didn’t know why he was still stunned for a moment. He knew it was coming. It was the reason he showed up. And yet there was still a split second before he got his body to react. But once he did, he was kissing Bradley back with just as much fervor, channeling all of his annoyance into the way his teeth pulled at Bradley’s bottom lip.

It was so easy to tune it all out, the music, the chaos of the bar just on the other side of the bathroom door. The door that neither of them thought to lock because they were too busy trying to drive the other insane. They were both simultaneously winning and losing that battle, the way that they always were.

“This is a dumb idea,” Jake murmured against his lips when they broke their kiss. Hooking up in the bathroom of a bar made him feel like he was back in college all over again, but not in a way that he particularly coveted. They could’ve picked just about anywhere else to do this, and yet.

Bradley’s lips curled into a smirk as his hands dropped down to Jake’s belt. “You’re free to leave whenever you want.”

Jake scoffed at that, but there was no real anger behind it. How could there be, when he was so focused on the sounds of Bradley undoing the buckle of his belt? It’d been a long time since Jake felt like he wasn’t the one in control. He always seemed to forget that there was something thrilling about being on the other side of the power dynamic.

Bradley was just untucking the shirt of Jake’s uniform from his slacks when the door swung open. For a brief moment all of the noise came flooding in, only to be muffled again a second later as the door shut behind whoever had walked in. It wasn’t often that both of them froze when it came to fight or flight situations, but it felt like neither of them could move. Jake was still pressed back against the wall, Bradley criminally close to him, hands still on the waistband of his slacks.

Bob’s eyes widened in panic, knowing for a fact that he’d just walked in on something that he wasn’t supposed to see. He wanted desperately to turn tail and sprint out of the bathroom—he’d be more than happy to pretend that he’d never walked in, never saw anything, but it felt like his feet were glued to the floor. He’d settle for the ground swallowing him whole if it meant that he wasn’t going to have to deal with any of this. Hangman already gave him a hard enough time as it was, he didn’t need to give the guy an actual reason to make his life more difficult.

“Bob,” Bradley finally forced out, not a clue where he thought the sentence was going, “I—”

Bob tried to take a step backwards towards the door, tripping in the process and nearly falling all the way down to the ground. He motioned back over his shoulder, stammering as he tried to think of what to say. “I, I’m just,” he felt blindly around behind him for the doorknob, “I’m just gonna…”

Jake found one shred of certainty deep within himself, his voice and his gaze steady as he looked over at the man trying to escape the clutches of the awkward situation he’d just found himself in. “If you say anything—”

“I won’t,” Bob denied it immediately, shaking his head as his fingers finally wrapped around the handle of the door. “Wouldn’t. I won’t. Don’t,” he was already maneuvering his way back out, “yeah, no. I…yeah.”

When the door shut again, both Jake and Bradley let out exasperated sighs. Jake’s head tilted back, tapping against the wall behind him for a moment. Looking down at Bradley, he said, “Told you this was a dumb idea.”

Bradley chuckled, shaking his head. “You could’ve left. Could’ve not even shown up in the first place, actually.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like I—” He stopped himself short when he noticed the way that Bradley had resumed untucking his shirt. “What are you doing?”

“What?” he asked, like it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world, like it wasn’t equally obvious why Jake wouldn’t want to be getting right back into things.

Jake swatted his hands away. “We’re not doing this now.”

Bradley studied his expression for a moment, trying to figure out just how serious Jake actually was. When he didn’t see any waver in his eyes, he let out a short sigh of defeat. He took a small step back, his gesture of surrender, and let Jake set about getting himself back in order.

Bob was barely registering the conversation that was happening among the group he’d just left and returned back to. The only thing he had going for him was the fact that more often than not when they were all spending time together in a large group, he usually looked a little dazed and confused. The look was a little more intense now given everything, but everyone else seemed to busy chatting to really notice.

“You see Rooster on your way back?” Natasha asked, snapping him out of his daze.

“What?” he said, eyes widening as he shook his head. “I didn’t—I, no.”

She looked a little confused at the hesitancy in his response, but she didn’t get a chance to press him on it before Javy spoke up. “You’d think they’d get along a little better now, you know, since Hangman saved his damn life.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because we all know that he’s such a gracious savior.”

“I think they’re fine,” Bob blurted out before he could stop himself, eyes still wider than they needed to be. “You know? I, I think, you know, I think they’re probably fine.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes just slightly, just enough to make Bob see that she was studying him. “You alright?”

Javy jumped in first. “Yea, Bobby, got something you wanna share with the class?”

Bob adamantly shook his head. “No, I, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bob felt the metaphorical walls closing in on him and he had no idea how he was going to get out of this one. Lying had never been one of his strengths. Most times he didn’t need to lie about much of anything, so it wasn’t really an issue. But now he was put on the spot, trying to conjure up lies about something that his brain hadn’t even fully processed yet to begin with.

The hand that clamped down on his shoulder made him flinch, and for a moment he didn’t know if it was real or if it was just the manifestation of the universe coming to get him. He turned to see who it was, and was faced with Hangman’s signature grin. A far cry from the sight Bob had walked in on just a minute or so before.

“They givin’ you a hard time?” Jake asked.

“Gonna try and play savior now?” Natasha asked, her face saying everything her words didn’t about her opinions on that.

“You should all be cutting the kid some slack, that’s all,” Jake responded easily, clapping Bob on the back with enough force to make him flinch. With the exception of a few shaking heads and brief comments, everyone moved on quickly enough, going back to the conversations they’d previously been wrapped up in. Once they were all distracted, Jake put all of his attention on Bob. “All good?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Bob said, his voice almost seeming like a whisper against the noise of the bar.

Jake smiled, like he was perfectly unbothered. “Atta boy.”

Natasha hadn’t heard what either Jake or Bob had said to each other, but she was still able to see the looks on their faces. Clearing her throat, she allowed herself into their conversation. “So neither of you know where Bradshaw went?”

Bob’s grip on his beer bottle tightened immensely, but luckily Jake was much quicker on his feet. He nodded towards the door. “He was taking off a couple minutes ago. Something must’ve spooked him off.” Bob nearly choked on his drink at Jake’s answer, earning him another clap on the back from Hangman. “Alright?”

Bob nodded. “I’m good. I’m gonna…” he looked at Natasha before gesturing to the pool table. “Yeah?”

She nodded, willing to take any excuse to get out of talking to Jake more than she had to. “Yeah.”

He watched the two of them grab their pool sticks. Before he could try to give any unsolicited commentary on it, he felt his phone going off in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw that the only notification waiting for him was a text from none other than Bradley Bradshaw.

“I’ll be at my place in 10 if you wanna finish what you started” Before Jake had even finished typing in the code to unlock his phone, Bradley sent a follow-up text, “Uninterrupted this time”

Jake let out a deep sigh, wondering if it was worth it while also knowing in the back of his mind that he was going to end up there before the night was out regardless. He stared at the text bubbles for a long minute before finally typing back, “Be there in 30”

He hung around a little longer. He talked, finished off his beer, heckled Natasha because he knew it got under her skin. Even though he was joking around and talking with everyone, in his mind he was already in his car and tearing down the street to get to Bradley’s place.

When he finally did make a break for it, no one seemed to think twice about it. There was an assortment of goodbye’s, a couple humorous reminders to square up the brutal tab he’d racked up on behalf of all of them. But no one paid much mind to him otherwise. Except Bob.

“All good?” Jake asked, his tone casual as he fished his car keys from his pocket.

Bob nodded. “Mhm.”

Jake gave a nod of approval, a satisfied grin on his face as he stepped past Bob and made his way towards the door. “That’s what I thought.”

[saturnine-saturneight]

Writing Share Tag

Thank you to @the-golden-comet for the tag!!

I'm itching to share Haru's introduction on page, so I will do exactly that.

There is a dumpster behind the building, so hot in the sun that Ron has to pull his thin fingerless gloves as far down his digits as they'll go, unwilling to give himself blisters. He goes up and over, onto a wall that divides the backyard of the ex department store from a row of residential houses, and then up, up again, hanging by his hands from a ledge and pulling himself into an open window, rolling over his healed shoulder as he lands on the floor. Haha, still got it.

Somebody clears their throat pointedly. Ron sits up, startles, and comes face to face with hired muscle. Ah, fuck.

He's dragged through the corridors by the scruff of his shirt.

"Hey man," he laughs awkwardly as he tries to extract the guy's hand from his clothing. "I can walk on my own, y'know? No need to pull!"

"Slippery fuckers like you," the guy growls, "are something you never let go of if you can help it."

"Dude, c'mon."

"Let's see how the boss will deal with you." He raps his tattooed knuckles against the door of a back office.

"Yes," comes the voice from the other side.

The hired muscle opens the door very carefully, and then, anything but careful, throws Ron down face first onto the carpeted floors. He's just barely able to catch himself on his arms before his nose takes another hit, and has to push himself up by a hand to look at the figure behind the desk.

She's round-faced, East Asian, with black eyes like cool daggers staring out from underneath an asymmetrical black bob. The corner of her round mouth is scarred, and although she's small, there is heft to her, with broad arms and a full figure. She looks down on Ron impassively, like she's being presented with a bug.

"Found this one climbing in by a second story window, boss," the hired muscle says. "You want me to throw him back out?"

"Whoa, hey!"

The woman in the chair sighs deeply, folding her hands on the table.

"Are you capable of using the door?"

"Throw him out of the -"

"That wasn't directed at you."

Ron laughs out loud. "Nope! Fully incapable, sorry, boss."

Haru sighs again, pinching the bridge of her nose like she has a headache. "Thank you, Flint," she waves her hand. "You can go back to patrolling."

Flint looks back and forth between them very oddly as Ron picks himself off the ground. "…Got it," he says, shocked into silence, and shuts the door behind him.

"Come here," Haru says, and Ron does so as he's dusting himself off. "Sit." He places his ass on the table as Haru gets up to stand, and stares her down expectingly. She's small enough that the top of her head reaches his shoulder just so when they're both standing, so Ron hunches his back as he holds the eye contact. It's a long moment, then she breaks down. "Oh, fine, then. You win."

Yessss. Ron wraps her in a tight hug, feeling the warmth of her, feeling her shape fill in the memory of her perfectly. Haru holds him in return, although stiff, for a long moment before she pats his arm as a sign to let her go.

Paging @fortunatetragedy @cowboybrunch @fairytaleinagem @rotting-moon-writes

[incubabe]

  These weekend retreats up into the mountains, once a rare treat to center herself, had in time  become an increasing necessity to isolate Riley from her hunger. Proof that she was in control, not it. Traveling light, she only reconsidered how well her rather old sedan could handle mountain roads when something beneath the hood began to smoke.

  Not wrongly, this was worrying. Blessedly, an immediate side-road was available, and Riley pulled in. Two minutes of squinting at the engine later, she accepted the reality that she didn’t know shit about cars, went for her phone. No signal. Dammit all. Needed to find a landline, and no better hope than the driveway her car now blocked. The place didn’t have any immediately evident ‘trespassers will be shot’ or far-right signs displayed, which made for -- haha -- a good sign. With dusk setting in, she needed to get AAA on the horn if she wanted to get her car even near a mechanic before midnight.

  Rapping her knuckles on the door, reflexively to the tune of ‘skunk in the barnyard, P-U,’ Riley glanced around the lot, suppressing a shudder. Please be normal.

[universe-on-her-shoulders]

I had to sign up to Tumblr to submit this, and it wouldn't even let me use my actual AO3 username (Queer_Whovian) lol. Anyway, I've been reading your drabbles for a while and I absolutely adore them, so I figured it was about time I tried prompting one. I've had this idea for a while, but can't seem to write it myself in a way that will actually do Wilf justice, so.. Here goes: I would love to read a drabble of Wilf telling baby/child Rose Noble about the Doctor. I just imagine that he probably had such a hard time not talking about aliens for 15 years; Sylvia wouldn't want to hear about it regardless, and Donna clearly wasn't an option, so.. I can totally see him venting to Rose and making her swear not to tell her mum, or maybe telling it to her as a fairytale to get her to sleep. Up to you which direction to take it in, really, these are just some of the ideas I've had :) (It's also worth noting that I'm a bit behind on your collection still, so, if you've done something similar already, feel free to ignore me of course haha) Thank you <3

“Tell me about the Doctor,” Rose said sleepily, clutching her stuffed panda to her chest and snuggling down under her duvet until it came almost up to her ears.

“Which story do you want?” Wilf asked, mentally flicking through his catalogue of tall tales and wondering which one she might be hankering for today. “The Library? Agatha Christie? The Ood?”

“The one with the Adipose,” Rose requested, and Wilf grinned.

“That’s a good choice,” he told her, nodding sagely. “The Doctor was always a very astute man, you see? Not suspicious, but always on the lookout for things that weren’t quite right or that seemed too good to be true. And he knew that Adipose Industries was not quite right. They were promising wonderful, magical things! They were a brand new company but were making so much money! They had a mysterious director that no one had heard of! All very bizarre things, my Rosie Posy, and things you should absolutely be suspicious of. Any company that seems too good to be true and has come out of nowhere? You run a mile in the opposite direction, my girl, because that’s never a good thing. So the Doctor started to dig around, and he started to look into Adipose Industries, because he wanted to make sure that people were safe. So he went undercover! Like a spy… he went undercover and he was looking around…”

There was the soft rap of knuckles on Rose’s bedroom door, and he looked up to find Shaun stood there, eyebrows raised.

“Another spaceman story?” he asked softly, and Wilf grimaced guiltily, glancing back at Rose to find her asleep already. “No, go on. She loves them.”

“But I’m not meant to…”

“You think she could keep a secret? She’s far too like her mother,” he grinned. “She told me about them when she was little.”

“Does… does Donna…”

“Of course she does. She thinks they’re fairytales, but space ones.”

Wilf felt a weight lift from his chest; Donna knew? She knew, and she wasn’t burning up, wasn’t dying, wasn’t at risk from his silly stories?

“And she’s…”

“Oh, she rolled her eyes a lot and said there was nothing wrong with Grimms Fairytales, but otherwise she’s fine,” Shaun sighed sadly, despite the tangible relief in his words. “Nothing there. Nothing remembered. I wish she would, sometimes.”

“I do too,” Wilf admitted, looking over at his slumbering great-granddaughter. “All of those adventures, reduced to just stories. Mad, impossible stories, nothing more.”

“The maddest, most impossible stories. But I think the Doctor would like being a fairytale.”

“I think he already is one,” Wilf smiled to himself, casting his mind back over the stories he’d once read to Donna, and which he sometimes still read to Rose if her mother was around. Tales of princesses and knights and dragons and animals; tales of magic and curses and strange beings that definitely had a lot in common with aliens. “Some of those old fairytales, with all-powerful wizards? Wouldn’t put it past him. At least when I tell ‘em though, he has the TARDIS and all of his usual gadgets. Not a magic wand in sight.”

“I could see him with a great long beard and a pointy hat.”

The two of them chuckled conspiratorially. “That’s an image.”

[quill-n]

(written with your Living Doll AU in mind, didn't feel right to post it since it isn't technically mine, so here ya go.) *drops this like a bomb and runs away*

“Tsunagu?” Shinya asks through the door, rapping his knuckles on the old ancient wood. “Do you have a spare moment?” Shinya opens the door and pokes his head inside. Tsunagu has his head on his crafts table as if he’s fallen asleep while trying to work, but stirs at the sound of Shinya’s voice.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, I saw the light and thought….” Shinya trails off, feeling foolish. “Sorry, I’ll let you sleep.”

Four spider-like eyes blink at him through the demure light of the lantern, and Tsunagu’s words stop him from leaving the room. “What did you need, Shinya?”

“Oh! Ah, haha,” Shinya chuckles nervously and scratches the back of his head, and Tsunagu already notices the problem before Shinya says it; the threading around his mouth is undone again. “My stitches are messed up and, I can’t find the hand mirror?”

“I’ll fix them, it’s no trouble,” Tsunagu says, bidding Shinya to sit as he reaches for his sewing kit. As he sits, Shinya notices an open book on Tsunagu’s desk that Tsunagu must been reading before succumbing to sleep. It’s flipped to an herbal remedy, and guilt pricks at Shinya like a thorn. He should be diverting Tsunagu’s attention from trying to save that human boy, but damn him if he doesn’t love Tsunagu’s attention.

Gentle fingers guide him to look to his right, and butterflies flutter in his stomach as the touch lingers, tilting Shinya’s head up so Tsunagu can have a better view. A clawed finger—or is it just a pointed nail?—brushes over the tear in his flesh and he shudders at the feeling. There’s always a sort of inexplicable sensation when Tsunagu touches him as if his undead skin is reacting to Tsunagu’s spirit energy. He’s not sure if Tsunagu can feel it too, or if it’s something only the dolls can feel, but a blush rises and he adverts his eyes.

A small smile tugs at Tsunagu’s lips as he eyes the tattered string still in the tear. The broken edges are too clean to be anything but intentionally cut, perhaps with the scissors from Shinya’s own sewing kit.

He gently plucks the cut threads free, then begins sewing the tears with fresh navy thread. His stitching is as seamless as ever, after a lifetime of tailoring, it’s effortless and somewhat calming to him now. He never minds fixing up his dolls when they break, especially Shinya, although, fixing Rumi and Keigo does annoy him from time to time, and sometimes he just wants to sew their mouths shut to stop them from bickering.

Tsunagu tries to stitch through the holes already present but Tsunagu has no fear that Shinya’s in any pain. Being dead, their pain receptors don’t function as they used to, but they can feel the uncomfortable sensation when something foreign enters their skin, like when you get pricked with a needle but the nurse can’t find a vein and just digs around for one.

Shinya wants to lean into Tsunagu’s touch, close his eyes and enjoy the moment, but Tsunagu would probably judge and question the action, so he turns his gaze to Tsunagu’s face instead. His eyes are focused on his work, each movement slow and controlled as he takes his grand old time to do things right. Or perhaps he’s taking his time so he can enjoy the moment for as long as possible? A cute, self-indulging, hopeful thought that warms his heart, but is utterly false.

“Where’s Rumi and Keigo?” Tsunagu murmurs.

“They went out to find something edible for our new friends,” Shinya answers not thinking much of it, but a fond huff from Tsunagu has his eyebrows scrunching in question. “What?”

“I was just thinking of the Christmas cake you tried to make me one year.” Shinya’s face turns to a scowl in rapid time, and Tsunagu laughs, though Shinya’s change of expression forces him to pause in his work.

That cake, if you could even call that inedible monstrosity a cake, was made about a year and a half before they died. He’d tried to recreate his mother’s old recipe for it and completely missed the mark. “That’s hardly an example of edible food.”

“Indeed, but it’s a pleasant memory, now stop moving if you please. Thank you.” Tsunagu prods Shinya to look the other way and begins working again. They continue reminiscing, talking about nothing in particular and Tsunagu is grateful for the distraction. He has no idea how to help Bakugou, and he’s been running himself ragged trying to figure out how to help, which he should be doing now, but the break is welcome and it eases his stress.

Tsuangu finishes much sooner than he or Shinya would’ve liked. Tsunagu wants nothing more than to stay here with Shinya and forget about his troubles for a little while longer, the time already eclipsed seems too short.

He trails a finger over the new stitches “Do they feel okay?”

“Yeah,” Shinya affirms. “good as new.”

“Good, then I suppose we’re done.”

“Uhh, wait, could you, uh,” Shinya flushes, his voice becoming meek and quiet. “could you check the stitching on my tongue too? I-I think I felt it loosening a bit ago.”

“Did you?” Tsunagu asks, not at all believing that, but fully willing to indulge his little doll as he attempts to play his not-so-subtle mind game. “Let me see?”

Shinya obediently opens his mouth to let Tsunagu check for the nonexistent loose threads. He slips two fingers into Shinya’s mouth, his mind flashing to a very different thing he could slide into his doll’s willing mouth, and Shinya unknowingly echoes a similar thought, his breath hitching. Tsunagu gently raises Shinya’s tongue to look under it but finds nary a stitch out of place. Which is exactly what he expected.

“The stitching looks perfect.” Tsunagu retracts his fingers, and Shinya mourns the loss but closes his mouth and swallows back the building saliva. Tsunagu grabs some spare cloth he’d been meaning to turn into a towel before certain recent events transpired and wipes the saliva off his hand.

“Sorry, must’ve been my imagination then.” Shinya lies.

“There’s no remorse needed for cautiousness,” Tsunagu says, turning to put his needle and thread back where they belong.

“Oh, well, thank you for indulging me.” Shinya murmurs, looking for any reason he could stay. He’s already taken up enough of Tsunagu’s time, and he knows that since Tsunagu is done patching him up he should leave, but he doesn’t want to. He wants Tsunagu to himself a bit more.

“Of course, Shinya. I’m happy to indulge you.” Tsunagu’s voice sounds pleased and a bit teasing as he speaks and he makes sure everything is neatly squared away, then glances at the open book with a frown—he’s studied it for hours and has yet to glean any useful information from it—and shuts it.

Their companionable silence is short-lived, however, as a very panic-stricken Aizawa barges into the room unannounced, and Shinya frowns at the sight of him, already knowing what’s about to happen.

“Hakamata-san!” Aizawa all but shouts, and Tsunagu whips around, his heart sinking. Back to work. “It’s Bakugou, he’s…”

“Show me.” Tsuangu’s already rising from his chair, and he follows Aizawa out of the room, casting Shinya a regretful look as he passes, his sharp fingertips flighting across his shoulder.

Shinya’s heart flutters at the touch, and an anger-fueled jealousy bubbles from his core, anger at Bakugou for getting hurt so badly, for Aizawa stealing Tsunagu away from him and monopolizing all his attention. And, selfishly, he wishes it were just them like it was in the beginning, before all the other dolls.

The bone-deep chill of guilt chases his anger away leaving a hollow cave in his heart, and he instantly feels horrible for even thinking such things. it’s not Bakugou’s fault for getting hurt, nor Aizawa’s for helping him.

I’m acting like a child having a temper tantrum when his mother forces him to share his toys. I should be doing something useful, not… not this.

He eyes the book on the table, it must’ve come from the library. Perhaps he should check the library too, it’d give him something to do at least.

OH

OH MY GOD? OH MY GOD OH MY GOD???? (positive)

I kept almost-dropping my phone while I was reading this because I'm SHAKING FROM EXCITEMENT

hold on—

^ artist's rendition of my actual reaction to this

I seriously can't get over this— you wrote their dynamic SO PERFECTLY I'm

AaAAHDHHJGJJJJ (positive)

I am *so honored* to have such good writing done for my au— THANK YOU SO MUCH!! (genuine; very excited)

[astarab1aze]

// light blue heart, for Safe Haven. unu

muse relationship headcanon game

who curses more?

haha bee. i thought about it for a minute, honestly thinking it'd be vergil, but we must never forget bianca listens to hardcore gangster rap in her private time, like when she's gardening, cooking, or dancing. she's always cursing. sure, maybe under her breath when bobbing along to a song, but who cares? let bee say fuck--

who is more patient?

bee by a mile, i feel like. vergil's patience comes from his careful planning, until it comes down to the execution phase, then he focuses so- hard on doing the thing. bee, on the other hand, is just passive in general, so she's much more inclined to be patient and bide her time altogether. also very tolerant, but she does get very anxious and self-doubting at inopportune moments, putting her in a panicked urgency. hummmmm. i wouldn't say they actually defer much on this point, like they're similar levels of patient but display it differently. if that makes sense? idk kjdfh

who does the driving?

vergil. c'mon, as if bee's learned how to drive. :I vergil can try to teach her all he likes. he's simply better at it and she trusts him more than she trusts herself behind the wheel.

who is louder? who is quieter?

hmmmm. vergil's louder, bee's much much quieter by comparison but this has to do more with dominance versus submission, assertiveness versus passivity. their upbringing, how they survived, the reactions to their individual traumas. like at the root of this. do you get where i'm coming from homie?

who is more physically affectionate?

they're about even. they both have their positively wild moments, but, for the most part, they've always been chaste and particular with and about each other. until the need for proximity is overwhelming, or they're searching for comfort, warmth, reprieve. when they sleep together, they sleep together. when they bathe, they often bathe together. little touches, pawing in the night after a nightmare. bee's favorite spot to kiss and touch has always been his jaw, for instance. vergil gathers her into his arms, brushes his knuckles against her skin. yes. bye.

who is more likely to tease the other?

they can both be playful, but i feel like...it's still probably bee. but overall? i think they're far more serious and uptight than v and garrett will ever be skjjdhfjs i'm not going to lie. playful and loose sometimes in private, where garrett is only too happy to be coocoo for cocoa puffs with v in public kind of a deal.

who is better with time management?

vergil. all that schemin' ya dig. no, the hacking! the hacking. all his computer sorcery bee doesn't understand because computers. numbers bad. time? all she knows is morning, noon, and night. she has zero proper time management skills, especially because she doesn't generally plan for anything unless she's being sneaky. but even then, she can be impulsive so everything goes awry.... -looks at her time in hell- vergil plans and actually thinks more critically about what he's doing, even when he does stupid shit--

who wins the arm wrestling matches?

vergil ksjdhfsd but i feel like...he lets her win sometimes. but then i think he wouldn't insult her like that, but he's also much stronger than her, and it just. goes round and round. ooze, send help

who controls the music in the car ride?

they talk to each other or sit in silence, what music. shut--

who covers dinner when they order in?

vergil. i know he pays for their groceries. i know they never go out. bee cooks but vergie pays mhmmmmmmmm, that just be how it do. a little traditional in certain ways but it works for them

who is more outgoing? who is more shy?

i think vergil's usually more reserved unless pissed off, where bee is more friendly but less inclined to talk to people she doesn't know or trust explicitly, unless she has absolutely no other option. she was so terrified in the beginning, but now it's more like she's neutral? just. um. friendly with people they know, fuck off to people they don't ok

who has the more outlandish fashion sense?

vergil. it's that goddamn jacket (the fedora doesn't exist, it can't hurt us)

who starts the tickle fights? who ends them?

hmmmm. tickling? i can't see it happening, but i can't not see it happening either, like in the first place. :I i'm unsure. vergil and vergil skjdhfsd

who has the darker/more “edgy” sense of humor?

i don't think either of them have a very clear sense of humor tbh. they're both so serious... hmm. we will have to discuss.

who is more competitive when it comes to games?

what? vergil omg. he's a competitive guy. look at his and dante's interactions throughout the game. hell, look at our brief interactions when i wrote him. they has such rivalry between them sure, but also that distinctly brotherly sort of dick-pulling contestery. remember ksjdfhs 'i have a bigger dick' HAH bee wins--

who has the bigger appetite? the bigger sweet tooth?

vergil takes his tea with lil pieces of chocolate bee makes for him and burns way more calories, so vergil. i don't remember ever writing bee eat or drink anything more than lemonade, tea, water, and stew omg..... going by evidence alone ksjdhf she grew up horribly poor. sweets and such were a luxury anyway so she learned not to care about them, just filling enough foods like rice, beans, potatoes, surviving on the bare minimum literally her whole life-- she eats a bit like a bird in the first place... ah. made myself sad

who is more likely to get in a confrontation in public?

vergil. :I

who hosts the parties/hangouts? who organizes them?

bee organizes family gatherings with v and that's about it on that front

who is better at cooking? do they ever cook for each other?

they cook together, or at least vergil helps and is otherwise very involve. sometimes. he can get so wrapped up in his work! so diligent. i don't think we've ever talked about him cooking for her? not that it wouldn't happen. but i do think bee does it the most often and has learned lots of things over time, so she's better at it skjdfhsdf

who is more likely to engage in dangerous and/or illegal behavior?

vergil. he shot the succubus. >:I and i don't think he actually gives a damn about the law. knows very well about it, enough to bend and break it, but he doesn't give a shit about it-- it's his world and we're all just living in it unu as far as specifically dangerous things, law aside, they're both veeeeeeery guilty of that and covered in the evidence.

who is more likely to notice when something is wrong with the other?

they both are entirely attuned and affixed to each other. i think when vergil gets focused on his work, he ends up doing it for hours and hours (a point against him for time management skjdhfs), but when he has a minute to spare, he very much notices. bee checks on him regularly throughout the day, so she would just know faster.

who does the talking in public settings (i.e. to the waiter at a restaurant)?

reeeeeeally depends on context. she follows his lead for certain things, puts her foot down on others, but doesn't really...hm. generally speaking? follows his lead but checks him if necessary. when they're around family? bee never shuts up, but is still somewhat polite and reserved.

who is more likely to extend a helping hand & provide emotional support?

bee. beeeeee. she is the bleeding heart in this outfit, at least as far as other people go. when it comes to each other? they both do the best they can, and that's genuinely enough for them (-sweeps bee's insecurity causing her to go to hell under the rug-)

who is the bigger prankster? do they get the last laugh or do they suffer for it?

pranking? uhhhhhh. hmmmm. no

[disturbedbeautywrites]

huge congrats on 100 followers!!!! im so happy for you :D <3333

for the event, how about 🎵 with enchanted by taylor swift and robin or steve x reader? either is fine, i personally cant choose haha

Enchanted - Robin Buckley imagine

A/N: this is my first time trying to write for Robin so I hope I did okay! Thanks for the request lovely ❤️🤍

You had grown up with Robin; having been best friends since the two of you were in middle school together. The two of you had sleepovers, talked about crushes, and we’re together 24/7. There was a special bond there, and the two of you thought you were platonic soulmates.

That’s until the very real feelings started. It was blushes after accidentally brushing hands. It was gazes that were caught from across the room that held just for a few seconds too long. It was compliments that soon got the other way more flustered than normal. It was two massive crushes that collided and formed an amazing relationship once the two of you decided to actually go for it.

You were hanging out in your room one night, both of you facing each other as you laid on your bed. The two of you were just staring into each others eyes, the tension building in the air as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. Robins fingers gently moved out to cup your cheek in her hand, her fingers moving over your flushed skin. “You’re really pretty..”

The blush spread all over your face, your hand moving up to cover hers. “You’re really pretty too..” and with those words spoke into the world, you were both leaning in to kiss the other. The sparks from the kiss felt like it was enough to set the room on fire, all the unspoken feelings spilling into it. It was passionate, messy, but it was also perfect. The two of you had massive smiles on your face as you pulled away. You just sat there, dumb-founded with a love struck look on your face.

That night, you two decided to make yourselves an official couple. But, you were in no big hurry to announce it or make a big spectacle of it. The two of you were laid back, and that’s how your relationship would stay. She was yours and you were hers. That’s all that mattered.

However, things started to get more complicated as time went on. Robin got new jobs and started to hangout with Steve Harrington and the kids he babysat. Nights that were once spent with Robin were now spent alone, your anxieties and fears making you start to pace around your room. You tried calling her house, once, twice, three times. She was supposed to be at your house by now. “Please, Rob..” your voice cracked as you sank down against your door, laying your head in your hands.

A few minutes later there was a rap of knuckles on your door, Robin standing there once the door was opened. She had a bouquet of flowers in her hands, an apologetic smile on her lips as she walked inside. She sat the flowers down, pulling you into her body. “I want you to know something. I’m so lucky to have you in my life. I’m sorry things have been hectic lately, but I want you to know I was enchanted to meet you.” Her words were sincere, her gaze locking on yours as you looked into the eyes that you loved so much.

“You’re such a cheese ball.” You felt yourself chuckling at her words, hugging her tight as a way of telling her that you accepted her apology; but she wasn’t done yet.

“You’re my priority, princess. You always have been. I’m going to tell everyone about you. I love you so much and I’m so lucky to call you mine.” Her words were genuine as her lips found yours, sealing every single word she said.

[sodomitecastiel]

Do you have any recommended spn fics? To be restored is consuming all of my non fenario brainspace

This is in no way an exhaustive list - @jewishcharliebradbury is the one to go for that - but these are some favorites of mine, please always heed their tags just in case!

Putting it under a readmore because I'm a wordy bastard:

Sky Verse by starandrea: Angelic civil war! The crispest, most in-character dialogue! Vast, sprawling worldbuilding! Dean and Cas get together and are very bad at it for a long time! This series obsesses me the way other people are obsessed with dta (which I have not read for fear of commitment but fully intend to eventually).

To Be Restored by serenetyfails: You mentioned this one already but it's worth repeating - it's my favorite trans spn fic that I didn't write myself. Cas's transmasc identity is handled so carefully and so competently, Dean flips out in a way that's both in character and still kind to him, and Sam and Rowena are wonderfully fleshed out. I think many people would look at the premise and worry it's either misogynistic or fetishy, but it's neither, it's such a love letter to Cas's well-earned masculinity. Also, I'm obsessed with Rowena knowing and being buddies with a lot of trans women witches :)

Talk Therapy by shara: This is one of my favorite 'Dean is bad at asking for things' fics, it deals with his inability to want things past what he can give to others really well. I also appreciate that not everything in their relationship is fixed just because they're together, although the amount they love each other is always obvious.

Epilogue by JayneL: A weird little time travel story that is NOT a fixit for endverse, but is exceptionally kind to endverse Cas anyway. It aches very badly. I remember it being pretty trippy but also having to sit and look at the ceiling a while after reading it.

The Love Story of the Runner Up by Margo_Kim: Cas dates a normal human man with a good soul for a little while before he gets with Dean. Both of them know it isn't for forever, but they look after each other anyway. Told through the lens of story-swapping between gay friends and written with so much care & love. (You can thank @okologie for finding this one and making me read it despite my reservations.)

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo: Everyone recommends this fic but it's for a reason. Probably the best post-retirement fic there is, and definitely helped me form the neural connections to write Fenario, haha, I can't recommend this one enough. The complicated Dean and Sam issues are held with just as much weight as the Dean and Cas ones, although both are handled gently.

you and me in the war of the end times by stickthelanding (@tallahasseemp3): Alma knocked it out of the park with this one. THEE shotgunning fic. I've reread it more times than I can count, it has the loveliest atmosphere. I want to gnaw on this prose, said with love!

A Drinking Song by Balder12: Endverse snapshot. This one is mostly just bone hurting juice but it's one of my favorite characterizations of them - sometimes I find that endverse stories either make Cas way too soft or fucked up in a way I find goes too far in a direction I don't agree with, this one feels pitch perfect.

Everyone Is Trying to Get to the Bar by Balder12: All time fave angel true form fic!!! It's deliciously weird and fun, definitely a mind-melter. I only read it the once but sometimes I think about it and get a funny little shiver.

Tall Grass by aeli_kindara: This is another 'universal favorite', but also for good reason. Extraordinarily tender, it's my personal favorite Cas-grows-a-garden post canon story, especially because it manages to write a jealousy plotline that doesn't make me want to bite and kill. Dean's voice is exactly right and everything unfurls with this tender inevitability, idk how else to describe it! It also ends on a final image that's so lovely it's seared into my brain.

Dean (and Cas') Top 13 Zepp Traxx by pantheon_of_discord: Nobody does vignettes like supernatural writers. I love the way the road feels in this one, and how carefully picked each moment is. A string of pearls, this fic.

There's Only One Sure Thing That I Know by blinkiesays: Dean and Cas get trapped in the midwest by a curse that doesn't let them leave the state, and they want to break it until they don't. Being trapped gives them an excuse to want to settle down, but the route they take to get there is, of course, circuitous. This one hurts a little because it takes place while Sam is dead, but it isn't gratuitous in its sadness. Sweet and melancholy.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo: FAVE FAVE FAVE FAVE. I push this one at everyone I can. I'm extremely picky about 'Dean's self loathing' fics, mainly because I think it can veer easily into melodrama, but this author weaves Dean's self hatred and his anger together very seamlessly, in a way that feels real to the show. Also, Cas is perfect.

sweeter coming from my hand by perilously: A story that I liked before Nov5 and withstood the test of time!! Dean and Cas get married/soul-bound in order to both remove the Mark of Cain and fix Cas's grace. Features a formative scene for me where Cas expresses worries about if he has a soul and Dean raps knuckles on his chest, going, "knock knock, sounds like a soul in there." If you like this one, perilously has many good fics that are just as in character.

On Labor by a_good_soldier: I very nearly couldn't finish this one, but not because it's bad, haha. The premise just makes me want to tear my clothes in mourning - Dean knows Cas is in love with him, after getting him back from the Empty, and decides that he should give him what he wants without realizing that he wants it too. Dean performatively dating Cas while trying to talk himself into liking it (not knowing that he does actually like it) is exactly the kind of convoluted bullshit Dean's internalized homophobia would do to him. Nauseating and spectacular. Sticks in your brain for weeks.

canticles by 2street2car: An excellent 'weird girl best friends' fic. After striking out at the brothel, Dean decides to treat Cas to the "first date experience" himself, since the guy might die the next day. To sum it up succinctly: the rituals are intricate. And dirty dancing is referenced!

we shovel all the ashes out by xylodemon: As the author states themself, this fic is a love letter to California - it's a road trip casefic that's so rooted in place, the setting is rich and lush and the atmosphere makes me ache, and not just because it's set in my home state! I saved this one for last because this is another prolific author who has many stories I come back to again and again (Sweet Home and Love: A Retrospective are particularly good), they really don't miss. Usually when I read fic, it's a mad dash to the finish, but I took my time with this one. I highly encourage you to do the same :)