#i flipped on a random match and she was there and i just started watching

[rolandkaros]

i feel like i just need to reiterate how dear to me jasmine paolini is.

[ozzgin]

[Baki Masterlist]

Yandere! Pickle x Reader

"Was that Hanayama on the phone?" you inquire slightly distracted. "What did he want?"

"I'll explain more on the way, (Y/N). I know it's a bit sudden, but we should hurry."

Baki grabs your wrist with gentle confidence and begins to sprint lightly, allowing you to match his pace.

"What the hell? Did something happen?" you increase your speed without complaints, though you'd like to know why you just started running like a madman.

"Remember that caveman we saw on TV?"

"Pickle? Yeah, how is that-" your mouth hangs open for a few more seconds as you process the information, and as everything finally clicks into place you furrow your brows at the young boy. He quickly turns his head to glance at you and flashes an apologetic smile.

"I just wanted to see him with my own eyes. Aren't you curious, too?"

You press your lips together and just look ahead. When Baki is like this, there's no point in arguing. The two of you have developed this dynamic of a little brother looking for trouble and the older sibling going along with it, too softened by their affection to say no.

You assume you've reached your destination when a large group of men are standing close together, observing something in frightened silence. You push past them and notice Hanayama, standing casually in front of the large man that's been making the headlines for the past days. Your eyes trace the heavy dents and cracks left in the asphalt, somewhat regretful for missing the event that caused them.

Pickle turns around, following Hanayama's gaze. Among the terrified expressions there's a small boy grinning with excitement. Next to him is an even smaller human who immediately reminds Pickle of the woman that had approached him upon his arrival. His eyes widen as he takes in the soft features and smooth frame. The tiny human returns the stare, although with detached indifference. Pickle can feel his heart throbbing loudly in his chest. He doesn't sense any fear and that entrances him greatly.

"Hey, come on, don't be like that." Baki snaps him back to reality. "I've been looking forward to seeing you, you know? I wanted to meet you so badly! When I heard you escaped, I asked Hanayama to keep an eye out for me."

Pickle extends his fist, seemingly unimpressed by the monologue, and Baki doesn't hesitate to return the gesture. Within seconds Baki finds himself flipped upside down, but he quickly readjusts himself and lands safely, struck with amazement.

"Isn't that aikido?!" you gasp in disbelief, sharing Baki's reaction. Pickle immediately picks up on the fact that you've observed him and a satisfied smile appears on his face. Were you impressed by his newly acquired skills? Whatever bizarre techniques these humans were throwing at him weren't hard to decipher nor reproduce.

Pickle's musings are interrupted by a strong kick to the face. Baki barely manages to contain himself. He's panting and sweating with feverish anticipation.

Before Pickle can react, the tiny human swings her arm and whacks the boy behind his head.

"Oi! What's the matter with you? This is the kind of face you make when seeing your girlfriend, not some random museum exhibit. Tone it down or I'll let Kozue know what kind of pervert she's dating!"

"It's not like that!" Baki rubs his freshly earned wound in embarrassment. "And you didn't have to hit me that hard. You're going to scare Pickle off."

The large prehistoric man watches the exchange. He doesn't understand what they're saying, but the body language indicates that they're close. Are they mates? He becomes slightly irritated at the thought. He wants to know the pretty looking human better, but it now seems there's an obstacle in the way. He'll take care of it.

***

Pickle starts walking away, guiding his new friends down the busy streets of Tokyo until they reach the underground arena. Despite Tokugawa's anger upon finding the escape artist, you whistle in admiration. You wish you had this kind of spatial orientation.

"So, what is it you want to do now that you've brought us here?" Baki is the first one to break the silence.

"Baki, isn't it obvious what you're gonna do here? You know what's done here, don't you? He's picking a fight with you!" Tokugawa exclaims, the scolding attitude from a moment ago long forgotten.

The light above you is abruptly dimmed and you look up to see that Pickle is somehow standing inches away, towering over with a wide grin. How did it bypass your attention? Tokugawa lets out a yell of surprise; Hanayama and Baki immediately switch to a defensive stance. They didn't expect this.

"W-what is he doing?" the old man mumbles in fear.

Pickle places a heavy hand on your head and ruffles your hair lightly. You stare in confusion, unsure how to react. He bends over for a brief moment and inhales in rapid intervals, as if inspecting your scent. Once satisfied, he growls at you - perhaps in an attempt to communicate - and turns back to Baki.

"Is it possible he likes (Y/N)?" Hanayama hums, weighing his thoughts.

"In that case, maybe he sees Baki as his rival?" Tokugawa points out.

"Hmmm. Then it should make this fight even more entertaining." Hanayama continues.

"I'm in the room, you know? You're talking as if I'm some meat on display." you groan in annoyance.

"Sorry, sorry, (Y/N). We'll clear things up with Pickle after this, alright? Until then let me have my fun, please~" he pouts and looks at you with pleading eyes.

The large man grinds his teeth in anger as he's witnessing this clear display of disrespect. He's just announced his intentions to claim you, and this human half his size is mocking him in plain sight. He'll make sure he never gets up again. With a thrust, he lands his foot on Baki's chest and sends him flying into the public seating. The poor young boy gasps for air and passes out almost instantly.

Pickle begins to approach him in heavy, menacing steps. Hanayama raises his arms in his signature stance, pondering whether or not to interfere in someone else's fight. You don't share his battle etiquette and plant yourself in the path of the Jurassic man.

"That's enough. You've won." you claim in a low, assertive demand.

Pickle puckers his lips in surprise and curiosity. His eyebrows are raised and he stops to consider. Are you trying to protect your mate? Do you not understand how these things work? He's stronger and therefore entitled to his prize. Why wouldn't you want a partner that's more capable of protecting you, anyways? It makes no sense.

He gently presses your shoulder in an attempt to move you out of the way, but it doesn't seem to do much. He increases the force to the point he can feel your arm muscles contracting and flexing, though you still don't budge. His mouth opens slightly and he lets out an inquiring growl.

Looking into your eyes, he catches a glimpse of the same determination he saw in the man he fought recently. A smile widens on his face, revealing his polished fangs. To think that such a small body is holding so much tenacity. He's very proud of himself for finding a fitting partner.

You haven't attacked him so far, so he guesses you've reached a similar conclusion. You're probably asking him to let the feeble human live with his loss. He can, of course, show this courtesy for your sake. He lifts you by the waist and holds you above his head. He can finally take his time admiring your features. He wants to etch them into his memory, down to the finest detail.

"Well...that stopped him at least." Tokugawa comments with his arms folded, standing awkwardly before the bizarre scene.

"I doubt he'll harm (Y/N), so let's get Baki out of here." Hanayama climbs up the stairs towards the unconscious boy. "Can we leave you alone with Pickle for now, (Y/N)? I'm sorry for putting you into this situation."

"I should manage", you sigh in defeat. Once again you're left to deal with the mess. You pat Pickle's head in an attempt to secure your safety even further. The large man is elated and lets out some high pitched sounds that reverberate across the arena. He even dares to wonder if his awakening was something meant in order to meet you. That's how he feels right now, at least. A fateful encounter with his lifelong companion, regardless of where this strange new life might take him.

"Ooh, Professor Payne won't be happy about this..." Tokugawa laments, following Hanayama.

***

"I'm glad you're finally done with your Jurassic adventure", you tell Baki as both of you stroll through the city.

"I'm a bit salty I didn't win, though." He slouches dramatically and you laugh at his theatrics.

"You're never satisfied with anything. You should be grateful you didn't end up like Retsu, Katsumi or Jack." you place your index in front of his face, pretending to lecture him.

"By the way, did you see the latest news? They want to put Pickle back to sleep. What will you do?"

"Me? What business do I have with it? I had him attached to my hip this whole time, I can finally catch my breath."

"It was your one and only chance to have a boyfriend!" Baki teases you with a wink. "Poor Pickle is probably going mad looking for you now. Don't you want to at least say goodbye?"

"If I go say goodbye I won't leave again, so no thank you."

You slow down as you reach the intersection. This is where you usually part ways, so your conversation has come to an end.

"Well, it was nice hanging out with you. I'll see you around." the boy waves as he continues to the left. You check the time on your phone and stretch with a yawn. You can't wait to have a proper sleep.

You arrive at your apartment and fumble with your pockets to find the keys. When you glance at the lock, you notice a massive shadow looming over the entire wall. You step back instinctively and realize that whatever is creating the shadow currently stands behind you. Two arms sprawl out and twist around your body. You're overwhelmed by a now familiar smell.

Pickle rests his head on yours and closes his eyes. Oh, the absolute terror he went through when he realized you were no longer with him! The helplessness of not being to communicate this disaster to the confused humans in white coats, staring at him without the slightest idea. How did not a single one of them comprehend that his partner vanished? He'd trashed the place over in a blind rage and turned the city upside down in his desperate search. He never felt so vulnerable and naked and weak. Thankfully, he knows your scent so well that the smallest hint of it can get him running.  

But alas, you're here now in his arms and he vows to never lose you again. He doesn't know where he is or what this reality means, but he has one certainty he can cling onto. That you're all his, until time freezes over again.

[perfectly-imperfect82]

Is that a kid? - Name

"Where's the munchkin?" Alana asked as soon as the door opened, Macca pushing pass Caitlin with Jordan right behind her

"In the living room" caitlin said following her friends there

Katie had you by your feet upside down as you giggled, you being gently dropped on to the couch once Katie saw the others

"Kiddo, want to meet some of our friends?" Katie asked, getting a nod in return as you sat on the couch with everyone joining you

"I'm aunty Alana"

"I'm aunty macca"

"Jordan" said with a wave

"Aunty Jordan" Katie said causing Jordan to smile widely as you waved back before climbing down from the couch to start playing with you stuff animals

"The girls went overboard with gifts for her" Caitlin said with a smile as they watched you play

“Munchkin, can I join you?” Macca asked, climbing down to the floor next to you. You nodding and handing her a stuff animal

"You never said, what's the muckins name?" Macca asked causing caitlin and Katie to share a look

"No clue" Caitlin said

"Have you really been calling her kid all week?" Alana asked shocked

"I don't see a problem with it" Katie said with smirk as Caitlin hit her

"There police can't match her to any missing kids or caseworkers so we don't have a name. We were hoping she would eventually say it" Caitlin defended

"And I'm not calling her Jane, for Jane doe" Katie said

"We need to figure out a name for her" Alana said

"We say random names and see if she answers" Jordan said

"She's not a pet!" Katie exclaimed

"Do you have a better plan?" Macca asked

"Fine" Caitlin said

"I'll start! Makenzie" Macca said hopefully, only to get no reaction

"Alana"

"Jordan"

As Katie and Caitlin just laughed as the hope left all there eyes from not sharing a name with you

"It was worth a shot" Macca said

"Now what"

"There's more names besides your guys" Katie said

"Sam"

"Bethany"

"Ashely"

"Leah"

"Emily" Jordan said and you turned around, all the girls eyes widening

"Could be a coincidence" Katie said as you turned back to your toys

"One way to find out" Macca said, "Emily" and once again you turned around

"Emily, is that your name?" Caitlin asked  causing you to smile

"Holy shit, it worked!"  Alanna said causing Caitlin to hit her

"Just because she isn't speaking now doesn't mean she won't repeat them later" Caitlin said

"Later problem, we got a name!" Katie exclaimed picking you up and kissing you check as Caitlin placed a kiss to your head, causing you to giggle

"I've got gifts to get my niece" Alana said looking things with Emily on it or E as Jordan and macca moved to the floor to play with you

"Whats her last name?" Alanna asked causing Caitlin and Katie to look at each other

"You can pick her middle name if foord goes first"  Caitlin said with a smirk

"In your dreams, McCabe is going first"

———————————————

You were sitting on the sideline bundled up, playing with your toys as the girls practiced. The girls smiling when you would clap for them when you thought they did something good

“Why do you guys keep saying your last name?” Viv asked confused after hearing it multiple times

"We can't decide whose last name to go first for the kiddo" Katie said

“Flip a coin” Jen said

“We aren’t flipping a corn to decide which name goes first” Caitlin said

"Why not let her decide?" Kyra asked causing them all to look confused

"She isn't going to understand what we are asking her to do" Caitlin said

"Doesn't mean she can't decide" Kyra said with a shrug

"How will she decide then?" Katie asked, only making Kyra smile brighten as she explained her plan and put it into action

Alessia was recording, knowing everyone would love to see this later

"Okay Emily, pick a piece of paper"  Kyra said holding the two papers in front of you, one with McCabe and one with Foord

"No pointing" Jen said grabbing Katie hand and Steph grabbing caitlin hand as you were glancing at Caitlin and Katie with an unsure look

"Grab one of the papers darling" Caitlin said giving you a reassuraning smile

The team looked on as you started reaching for one and grabbing it, causing the aussies to cheer at the one you grabbed

"Emily Foord-McCabe" Kyra said happily as Caitlin smiled brightly, picking you up and placing you in her hip as she littered kiss on you face, laughter escaping you

"Sorry babe, but she has chosen" Caitlin said Katie looked a little sad

"And her middle name?" Alessia asked looking at Katie

"London"

"It's where we met and where we found her. Seems fitting" Katie said looking at Caitlin who looked back with lovefilled eyes

"Aren't you a big softie" Leah said with a grin as Katie shares a chaste kiss with caitlin before placing a kiss to you cheek

"Emily London Foord-McCabe" Kyra said with a giant smile "I would prefer Kyra, but London is fitting" causing Steph to gently smack Kyra arm as everyone laughed

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 5 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: pff, this was a long one, enjoy babes. A heads up in advance, I’ll be taking a break in the first week of April due to my exams 🫶

W/C: 4.558

part four

"Come in here and bring your laundry hamper!"

"Just a second, dad!"

I jump out of bed, leaving my phone on the other end of it, and grab the pink hamper. I hold onto the handles tightly as I make my way out of my room.

I see him standing over the washing machine in the laundry room. I enter quickly, the both of us starting to sort out the dirty clothes and putting them in the machine accordingly.

"Did you finish packing?" My dad asks, glancing at me before grabbing the laundry detergent and fabric softener out of the cabinet above me.

"Yeah, just a couple basic things. It's like a 2-3 day trip."

He pours the blue liquid into the cap, checking the measurements before pouring it into the designated compartment. Doing the same thing with the fabric softener.

"Really? No fancy dress or anything?"

I look up from the washing machine, a sheepish smile forming on my face. I watch him shake his head in disbelief, a smile on his face as he turns the machine on.

"When I sent you abroad- I thought your aunt would raise you exactly like I would. But I forgot she probably raised you to love dressing up like her. You know, she used to terrorize me in my own room growing up, only because I had bigger windows and thus better lighting for when she did her makeup.." He shakes his head, chuckle leaving him as he reminisces.

I laugh at him, the smile on my face bigger now.

"I think packing something proper is very important. It worked out pretty well last Saturday when we went for dessert in Girona."

"Just stay safe when going out. It's a dangerous world, honey." He says, putting his hand on my shoulder.

I purse my lips at his words, remembering what had happened just a couple nights ago. He didn't know about the entire debacle, but since it was already dealt with, I didn't see a reason to bring it up.

"When are you getting up?"

"Not super early, like around eight? The match isn't until Tuesday, so no early flight."

"You know, it's almost twelve, right? Go to bed already, and don't go on your phone." He tuts, scolding me and pushing me towards my room.

"Alright, I'll go to bed."

"Goodnight, I love you." He says, kissing my forehead before he makes his way down the stairs.

"Love you too!" I shout as I watch him walk away while I stand in front of my bedroom door. The silence of the house surrounding me when I’m left alone.

The team had finally wrapped up training for the day. We had arrived in Napels that morning, and they had trained hard until late in the afternoon.

This left us with some free time for the rest of the day, until we had to prepare for the match tomorrow.

"You've been doing your makeup for about 40 minutes now." I hear Luis complain, lying flat on his back on top of my bed.

"I could be meeting my future Italian husband out there! Come on, let me look cute for tonight."

I darken up my eye makeup, coloring my waterline with a black pencil to contrast my white dress.

I then drench my face in setting spray, fanning it dry with a random brochure, I found on the nightstand.

"Besides, you're wrinkling your clothes, stand up. I can't have you looking bummy! What if you find yourself a pretty lady?" I wink, struggling to hold back a laugh at the unimpressed expression he sends me.

I finally stand up from the chair, smoothing down my dress in front of the mirror, and adjust the slit a little.

"We can go now!"

"Are you drinking?"

"No, not feeling it tonight." I mutter, eyeing the delicious-sounding food on the menu.

I look up, watching Luis flip through the menu.

"I'm going to order a pizza."

"Why pizza?" He asks, looking at me.

"We are practically in the birthplace of pizza. Are you judging me?" I ask, raising a brow at him.

"Just get it, I'm not judging you.." He raises his hands as if to surrender.

"You're so mean when you're hungry." He mumbles, closing his menu.

"Just appreciate the fact that I dragged you here. Look at how beautiful the view is.

I turn, admiring the view behind the glass panels of the restaurant. The Vesuvius mountain and the water are absolutely breathtaking, especially right now during sunset.

He sighs at me in agreement, looking around to find a waiter for us to finally order our food.

I watch him order for the both of us, getting distracted by the view, and turn towards him when the waiter leaves.

"If you get hammered, I'll leave you here.."

"So, now you want to find an Italian girlfriend?" I ask Luis bewildered, watching him walk - no stumble in front of me.

The drinks he ordered were good, so good he felt inclined to ordered multiple of them. I didn't keep count, but he definitely had more than his limit, which made him the drunk mess he was right now.

"Of course, you're my best friend. We should each find a person to marry!" He slurs, walking towards the docks.

I sigh deeply, looking down at my heels, before jogging up to him, clutching onto his shirt tightly.

"You're going to fall into the water!" I shout, trying to hold him back from the edge, but he shouts in protest.

"It's fine, maybe one of these hot people will save me from drowning."

Oh my god

I look up to where he's pointing, seeing a group of people on an expensive-looking catamaran. I'm way too distracted to realize my grip on Luis has loosened, and watch him leave. I see him greet the partying people loudly. I close my eyes in embarrassment, wanting to jump into the water out of shame.

Who even parties on a random Monday evening?

I surprisingly hear someone shout something in what sounds like Italian. I turn my head, eyes searching as I turn my attention to the person.

My eyes meet the eyes of a tall, brown-eyed, beautifully sun-kissed man. His blue linen shirt halfway unbuttoned.

He looked like, and definitely is trouble.

I hear him say something again, and my eyes widen when they go back to Luis, who looks like he's having the time of his life with two girls.

"English?" I hear the beautiful stranger ask.

I nod, watching him walk towards the dock and then, interestingly enough, reach for my hand.

I would never leave Luis alone on this boat full of strangers. Therefore, I reluctantly grab the guy's hand as he pulls me onto the boat.

"Hi?" I greet, raising a brow. Quickly smoothing my dress down.

"Hello, and your name is?" He asks, eyes roaming up and down my body, definitely checking me out. The Aussie accent practically melting me on the spot, making it difficult for my jaw to stay closed.

He was the definition of trouble.

But I needed to get my mess of a friend off this damn boat and leave.

"y/n, yours?" I ask, pretending to be more interested than I am, sneakily glancing at Luis.

"I'm Chris. You're not from here, are you?"

Obviously not

"No, I'm actually from Valencia."

A white lie, he didn't have to know anything about me.

"Valencia, Spain? What are you and your friend doing here?"

"Visiting, for fun." I lie again, giving him a smile.

"Really? Having fun so far?" He smiles, his pearly white teeth blinding me.

"Yeah, a lot of fun." I reply, my brows raising in fake interest.

I watch him chuckle, his plump lips curling up. His arm going up to run a hand through his blonde locks.

"Care for a drink, then?"

As beautiful as this man was, I wasn't naive enough to accept a drink from him. Especially, since we were in a totally different country.

"I'm fine, actually. I'm leaving tomorrow, so I'm trying to not drink as much."

"Oh, you probably came to watch the Champions League game then?"

Got me, kind of.

I immediately pull a sour face, pretending to be disgusted.

"Of course not, I have better things to do than attend a Real Madrid match. If it wasn't for Valencia, I'd be for Barcelona anyway.."

That one physically hurt to say.

"Oh- don't get mad now." He teases, putting his hands up, his smile getting wider.

I had to leave hastily, at least before this man got me into his bed.

"You're fine. I'm just trying to get my friend and leave. You alright with that?"

"Let me get your number first. Don't think I'll forget you after tonight." He says, handing me his phone.

I was curving the man left and right, and he still wanted my number?

"I don't really give out my number. But I can give you my Instagram handle?"

"That's fine." He says, clicking on his Instagram.

I watch his screen, my eyes accidentally catching the number of girls on his explore page.

No way, this man was looking for something serious.

"Oh, I'll type it in. If that's alright?" I say, reaching for his phone. He nods, handing me the device.

I quickly type in my username, pressing follow.

To snoop a little further, I go back to the explore page, seeing more ass and boobs than I had prepared for. Pretending to be unfazed as I clear the Instagram tab and hand his phone back to him.

I mean, their bodies were amazing, but why the hell was he following them?

"That's it. Here you go. My phone is dead, so I'll talk to you later?" I say, fidgeting with my handbag. My social battery was dying even faster than normal tonight. 

I watch him nod, his eyes on me, as I immediately make my way to Luis, who's now sitting with a random girl.

"Hi, sorry to interrupt, but we have to leave."

I grab onto Luis' arm, using all my strength to get him up. Noticing the amount of shot glasses and empty beer bottles in front of them.

How the hell did he manage to do that so fast?

Idiot.

"Wait, do you want his Instagram?" I ask the girl. She hesitates before nodding looking at us confused.

"Okay, well, let me spell it for you."

I spell his username quickly, turning away.

"Yes, that's it. We're not a thing, by the way- he's my brother. Bye!"

Another lie, but maybe it would help him in the long run.

"Let's go, come on." I groan, dragging Luis back to the hotel.

It was doable until he started leaning his body on me, making me slump partially. My heels beginning to hurt my feet more than ever.

After a good ten minutes of struggling, we finally enter the elevator of the hotel, his body weight starts to pile on me. Arriving at our correct floor I drag him out, a huge sigh of relief leaving my lips as I recognize some of our Real Madrid players.

"Help." I mumble, watching some of them recognize the fact that I was half-suffocating.

I watch Antonio, Aurélien, and Jude, of all people, walk towards us, getting drunk and passed out Luis off of me.

"Thank you." I sigh, fixing myself, watching Antonio comically throw Luis onto one of the seats there.

"What happened to him?" I hear Brahim say as I try to catch my breath and I readjust my grip on my bag.

"Long story."

"Let's put him to bed first." Antonio says, making me nod. All of our eyes moving to a passed-out Luis.

"So, he got into a random boat?" Federico asks, looking at me.

I nod, trying to hold back a laugh while I drink my water. The cardigan I had retrieved from my room keeping me warm as we sat in the sky lounge.

"I would've partied." I look up at Cama, shaking my head.

"They were strangers, come on! But- one guy did approach me." I say, sending him a smug look.

"So you had some fun!"

"Look, he was cute. He offered me a drink, but I refused."

"That's it? Come on..”

"Why are you all up in my business?" I joke, being half-serious, hearing some of them laugh.

I finish my cup of water, beginning to stand up from my seat.

"It's getting late, I'm going up to my room. Don’t make it late, you guys need to rest well!" I say, waving after they send me off with kind words.

I press the elevator button, crossing my arms as I wait for it to arrive. The doors open a few seconds later, and I step in. I raise my head in surprise when I see an arm hold the doors open. Surprise turns into irritation when I notice Jude step in.

"Why did you follow me?" I ask, playing with the clasp on my bag.

"You know, not everything is about you." He mutters, a fed-up expression on his face. I sigh, closing my eyes in impatience, as I lean against the elevator wall.

The elevator makes a noise, and I check the floor number, getting out, hearing him follow me.

I start rummaging through my handbag for my room-key. Finally, fishing it out as we walk up to our respective rooms.

I arrive at my door, hearing Jude walk up to his own, his room interestingly enough being across from mine.

I go to scan my card but freeze, realizing my door is open by a small sliver.

"Why is my door open?" I mumble to myself, trying to subdue my instant panic.

"What?" I hear, seeing Jude walk up to me from the corner of my eye. His eyes darting in between me and the door.

"You left it open, probably." He responds, not an ounce of concern in his voice.

"You think?"

"Yeah, since you're so good with doors-"

"Okay, stop right there." I mutter, pushing the door open further. I flick the light on, looking around cautiously.

I hear him scoff at my behavior, and I turn around to look at him.

"Can you check the room?" I ask, trying to sound as nice as possible.

"No." He deadpans, giving me a bored look.

I hold back a string of cuss words, stepping into the room as he stands at the doorway.

"Stay here at least, before I get murdered."

"Would be a sight." He mutters, voice laced with humor. Though, I found it difficult to see this situation as funny.

"You're not funny. Are you aware of that?" I ask, punching into the curtains to check if anyone's hiding behind them.

"Find anything, detective?"

"Shut up." I whisper, going to open the bathroom door, hesitating for a moment.

Adrenaline starts pumping through my veins. I try to take deep breaths to prepare for a fight.

"What if someone's actually here?" I whisper, my eyes wide, as I turn to look at Jude.

I watch his expression harden, his jaw tensing as he looks at me.

"What do you mean?!" I hear Jude whisper back. His voice is hushed and more low than usual.

I take off both of my heels, ready to bash the possible intruder’s head in with my heels.

"Call security." I whisper, preparing to fight. I watch him take out his phone, before he raises his head again. His expression darkens for a moment before it changes into something- else...

"What are you doing, idiot? Come here." He says, and I can almost make out a vein popping out of his forehead.

All of the sudden, he makes his way over to me, grabbing my wrist and dragging me out of my room. Shutting the heavy door behind me, his hands coming up to my shoulders.

"What is wrong with you? You don't even know if they're with a weapon or anything!" He shouts in a hushed voice, his Brum accent more prominent than ever.

I continue staring at him, my lips parting in realization.

Damn, I was such a shallow thinker in times of crisis.

My mind turns blank, not acknowledging Jude's presence anymore. I can only hear him sigh and mumble something as security from both the club and hotel arrive at my room.

"Could you take her somewhere else, sir?” I hear someone say, feeling my wrist being pulled abruptly by Jude.

I follow him blindly, but I try to look back at my room. Wanting to see if someone would actually appear out of my room.

"Don't look." I hear, looking in front of me again as I’m brought into the hotel room across from mine. Nicer and bigger, definitely his.

"Sit down." He orders, pulling my wrist again and making me sit on one of the cushioned chairs.

I oblige without protest, too dazed to react in a snarky way. The silence in the room feels like hours when only being about ten minutes. It is finally cut off as Jude's phone starts ringing loudly.

I hear him speak for a few minutes before he hangs up. I watch him walk towards me as he sits in the chair next to me.

"No one was there, they checked the cameras as well. You left the door open."

I cringe, realizing my own initial mistake. A shudder runs through me as he explains.

"Oh, great!" I mumble sarcastically, feeling embarrassed, fidgeting with the fabric of my dress. Only now realizing I was barefoot, my heels probably fell out of my grasp when he pulled me out of the room.

I get up when he finishes explaining, walking up to the door. Pulling my soft cardigan closer to soothe myself.

"Where are you going?" I hear Jude ask. I turn and look back at him.

"Back to my room." I say, suddenly feeling the day's exhaustion take effect. My vision becoming blurry as I feel an ache make its way to my head.

This day alone probably took five years off my lifespan.

I hear him sigh as he walks up to me. Feeling him put his hand on my right shoulder.

"What?" I ask, looking him up and down. Trying to shrug his hand off of my shoulder.

I watch his jaw tense again, his grip on my shoulder getting tighter, though, not getting to the point of hurting.

I open my mouth to speak again, as he doesn't bother to answer my question. Unfortunately, I’m stopped by a sharp pain shooting through my head.

I groan in pain, placing my hands on my temples as I squeeze my eyes shut.

"What's wrong?" I hear him whisper, his other hand making its way to my left shoulder.

"I'm fine..." I dismiss, taking his hands off my shoulders. I reach for the door handle, pulling it down and stepping out of the room.

I tap my card against the sensor hurriedly and open my door, turning to see his door across the hallway already shut.

"Doesn't even care to watch me go inside." I mutter, ridding myself of my clothes and taking a much-needed shower. Trying to wash off all my stress and embarrassment.

When I'm done, I make a beeline to my bed, closing my eyes and forcing myself to sleep. I shift and turn, groaning in frustration as I turn my pillow around for the nth time.

It's like my sleep was robbed of me within minutes. My thoughts keeping me up. I check the time, realizing it was almost two in the morning.

I begin getting fully paranoid, my stupid brain making up the craziest scenarios imaginable.

I bury my face deeper into my pillow, forcing my brain to shut up. Finally, managing to fall asleep, too tired to keep my anxious walls up.

"You look like a truck ran you over."

"Shut up." I snarl replying to Jude. Trying to ignore him further as I continue eating my food, Luis sitting across from me at the breakfast buffet.

I had gotten maybe five hours of sleep. My three layers of concealer weren’t doing its job today. It had creased within minutes of application.

I roll my eyes as he sits at the table next to us, probably to annoy me further.

“Someone get this weirdo away from me..” I say loudly, closing my eyes in prayer.

I hear Jude scoff, following it up with a laugh.

"Were you born insufferable, or do you practice in the mirror before going to bed?" I ask, poking at my food.

I hear him chuckle again, which makes my blood boil even more. I glance at Luis, seeing a grin forming on his face.

"You too?"

I had told him everything that had happened last night, him feeling embarrassed but finding it hilarious at the same time.

He did promise he'd make it up to me.

"Don't forget how I dragged your ass from the dock to the hotel. I could've easily left you there."

I threaten, looking at Luis as I shove another spoonful of food in my mouth.

I see Jude open his mouth, but I stop him with a hand as my phone rings. My dad calling me right at the perfect moment.

"Oops, sorry, too busy for whatever you want to say."

I realize how immature I sound, but I digress. I get up and answer the call. Chatting to my dad about the past few days.

I signal for Luis to stop filming, patting his back to commend him for his hard work after the final whistle is blown. A nice 3-2 putting us on top of the table.

"They played really well."

I hum, posting the last social media post and turning to him.

"Right, if they keep playing like this, we'll definitely end up at the top of table C for sure."

"We'll go far. That's without question."

We make our way inside, trying to rush to get inside on time.

"Hugo is saying to interview both Frederico and Jude." I mutter, rereading the text message.

"That's fine, let's just wait here until they're ready." He says, both of us waiting in front of the changing room as they pile inside. Tired expressions on all of their faces.

"By the way, have you seen this one guy that's working here? He's so cute for you." I hear Luis say, looking up at him confused.

"Which one?" I ask, fidgeting with the cable of the camera.

"I'll show you when I see him." He says, and I give him a look.

"He better be cute, since you're making me wait."

"Alright, that's it." I announce, looking at Jude. Finally wrapping up his interview.

"Thank you." He mutters, with less attitude this time. Probably way too tired to have a petty fight with me. I wasn't disappointed with that, to be honest. I couldn't stand speaking to him anymore.

"See you on the bus, man." I hear Jude say, giving Luis a handshake as he begins walking away. My eyes follow him, piercing into his back.

"See, that's the guy I was talking about." I hear Luis say, my head snapping towards the direction he was looking at.

"Which one-" I begin, shamelessly looking at the guy.

"What? No, are you serious?" I ask, appalled by the person he’s shipping me with.

"Yeah, he's cute for you." He mutters, giving me a smirk.

"You might be hungover still. Let's just get into the bus, please."

We pack our equipment up, starting to walk towards the team buses. Successfully helping fellow staff with the multiple suitcases and bags and stepping up into the vehicle.

We greet the players we make eye contact with, the both of us walking along the occupied seats until we finally find two empty ones next to each other.

"I'm tired..." I mumble, leaning my back against the seat, closing my eyes as I get comfortable. Leaving my phone on my lap.

"I can see that." I hear Luis reply, and I open one of my eyes to give him an offended look.

"How sweet of you." I reply, trying to take a quick fifteen-minute nap. Running around for more than two hours with five hours of sleep was not for the weak.

I was part of the weak.

I hear the sound of a notification, surprised it could be heard through all of the chatter and banter of everyone in the bus.

"Was that your phone?" I ask, leaning my head against the window.

"No, it was yours." Luis answers.

"Can you read it for me? You know my password."

I feel my phone being removed from my lap, a second of silence from Luis before he starts laughing uncontrollably.

"What?" I ask, getting curious.

What could be that funny?

"It's a DM from a Chris on Instagram."

"Who the fuck is Chris?" I ask, finally opening my eyes to take my phone back. My eyes roaming around the screen, reading a short message with a 'view once’ photo.

"Thought you repped Valencia?"

I read the message out loud, looking back at Luis, confused. Then I look at the profile picture.

"Oh my god! It's the guys from the boat!" I shout, embarrassed when I realize I was being louder than necessary.

"The one you talked about?"

"Yeah- wait, what do you think the photo is?" I ask, starting to feel squirmy.

"A dick pic." I hear Luis whisper.

"Who got a dick pic?"

I hear someone ask, looking at the row behind me. Jude peeking his head in between our headrests.

"Not you, so mind your own business.." I reply, moving my phone out of his view and returning to my conversation with Luis. Ignoring the daggers he’s sending me with his piercing gaze.

"No way, gross. He looked desperate, but no way."

"Well, click on it."

"No, now I'm scared. Why would you even bring that up?"

"Just squint."

I huff, leaning back against the widow, squinting as I press on the photo.

"Oh-" I exclaim, taking a deep, relieved breath.

Thankfully, it’s not an explicit picture, but a photo of me at the stadium we were just at, prematch to be specific. From the angle, you could tell the photo was taken from the stands.

"Wait- what the fuck? He was there? Ew, why did he take a photo of me?” I say, showing Luis the screen.

I watch his mouth fall open. He reaches over, taking my phone from me and screenshots the photo.

"That's why he sent that message. You lied to him about yourself, right?"

"Of course I did!" I say, snatching the phone from his hand.

"What do I say?" I ask, looking at him with a questioning look.

"Do you even want to speak to him?"

"Well- I'm bored?" I give him a grin, his arm coming to push me.

“I can’t stop you, but you said he looked like trouble, so ignore him..." He advises, squeezing my arm.

I nod at his words, taking them in. I swipe to press the mute button on the chat, and turn my phone off.

[catsfor2]

out west (ellie x reader)

warnings: guns/firearms

a/n: howdy guys. not sure if this is what everyone was picturing but this was SO MUCH FUN to write ☺️😋☺️. i definitely do not think they used the word “daddy” in the wild west but i wanted to use it soooo😩😩😩😩also here are the random bits of western slang i used (taradiddles - lies, rumours. sage hen - woman, lady. ‘at sea’ - scared/confused. bellyache - worry. flannel mouth - shithead politician basically) im sorry if i effed this up 0_0 -j

His oversized poncho was black. So was the bandanna covering his mouth, and the large hat hiding his eyes. His revolver, resting like a small child in his gloved hand, stares you down mercilessly.

The figure looked of a ghost. A silent, lifeless bundle of fabrics, rippling in the wind. No face. No skin. No humanity.

And he matched the description of the poster exactly.

“No—no, please, my—my Daddy, he’s the sheriff! It’s more trouble than I’m worth, I’m tellin’ you, please!” You beg, eyes beginning to water and voice already panicked.

He says nothing, boot-clad feet pounding the wood floor carelessly as he walks towards you.

“If you do this he’ll find you! He won’t stop until he finds you! Please don’t!”

It was like talking to a pile of bricks.

The outlaw continues to charge ahead, wordlessly, and you find yourself desperately trying to see where his eyes would land under his hat. He approaches, big and brooding, until you’re face to face with that soulless bandana and downright trembling.

“I—I’d make a real good wife, really, I’ve learned all the—the sewin’, the cookin’ and—and ranchin’! I know it all I promise! It’d be a waste!” You plea, knowing it’s a last resort, knowing this man does not care.

In an instant, his hands clutch your shoulders and forcibly shove you to the side and out of his way, sending you stumbling. His attention lands and focuses on the wall that was behind you.

The poster?

Suddenly, his arm thrusts out and snatches it, like the crack of a whip, before frantically tearing the paper into tiny little pieces.

You watch as they all float down to the floor, feathery and weightless.

You see the brim of his hat turn to you first, and then his head, slowly, like he’s noticing your presence for the first time.

The hand not holding his revolver rises calmly, loosening the edges of his bandanna just a touch. He clears his throat.

“Girl like you knows how to ranch?”

Your eyes almost pop out of your head.

“You’re—”

“Sorry, these damn posters—always…writin’ up taradiddles. Got people thinkin’ I’m some madman, when really,” a finger flicks the rim of the hat, flipping it off of his head and into his grasp. “I’m no man at all.”

You feel yourself reeling, barely able to understand his words, or, her words. The hat had covered up her blue eyes, almost oceanic in color. The bandanna, hiding her soft thin lips. Basically criminal, all the fabric denying you sight of her face.

She went against almost everything Daddy had taught you. It was as terrifying as it was alluring.

“Well you look a bit at sea, darlin’. Why so scared?” She asks, placing her revolver in its holster and walking a bit closer to you.

“I—I don’t get how,”

“How? How what? How a sage hen can shoot? I can tell you right now I cut a cleaner whistle than your Daddy.” She grins, palm now itching closer to her weapon.

“No I—I believe you, it’s alright. Please don’t bring that back out.” You rush, the fear starting to sink back into you.

“Oh, honey, I don’t hunt the good ones. You’ve nothin’ to be scared of,” She assures you, her hand reaching out and feeling some of your hair. “now that sheriff Daddy of yours? Can’t say the same for him.”

You pause, hands balling into fists.

“You know what? My Daddy told me all about you and what you’ve done. I wouldn’t be speakin' so kindly of yourself.” You bite, slightly catching the gunslinger off guard with your tone.

“Oh, did he? Well your Daddy clearly don’t know me too well,” she rebukes, gesturing to the torn pieces of poster under her boots. “do you always believe everythin’ Daddy says?”

“Of course not—”

“I bet Daddy told you that storks bring the babies, right? Did he tell you that?”

“When I was young, but—”

“I bet he also told you about marriage then? One man and one woman?”

You stop talking.

What was wrong about that? Isn’t that how marriage is?

“Most of all, I bet he done told you all about the perfect husband you’re gonna get. Some flannel mouth he works with. Daddy’s girl only gets the best, right? That what he say?”

“I—” You turn your head, a little defeated. “I ain’t marryin’ no flannel mouth,”

“Oh yeah? That’s what’ll happen if you keep listenin’ to Daddy.”

“You don’t know jack. Just a crazy woman with a shootin’ iron. You won’t ever find a husband, I know it.” You spit, not even really believing your own words.

She laughs, rather abruptly, hands rested in the loops of her gun holster.

“Got no bellyaches about that, darlin’. I promise you.” She says knowingly, eyes unwilling to break their gaze from you.

You don’t quite understand what she means by it, especially the way she’s grinning, so you say nothing. Her eyes watch you darkly, following your movements and sending messages you can't translate.

Before she can speak, you remember.

“Oh—my Daddy’s gonna be back soon. I don’t want you to be here when he does.” You tell her, glancing at the doorway behind the both of you.

“I won’t be.”

“Alright—will…will I see you again?”

“Oh sweetheart, you want to?” She questions, starting to re-tie the black bandanna around her mouth.

You blush, sweetly, and the outlaw basks in it. She takes her hat back off, kisses it gently, and places it in your hands.

Her head moves to your neck, barely getting close enough to your ear and whispering faintly.

“Tell Daddy it’s from a suitor, yeah?”

Your cheeks heat, sheerly from how close she is, but also at her words, which feel so much dirtier than they should be to you.

Following that, her leather-covered hands grab your face, and she places a warm kiss on your cheek through the bandanna.

Only lightly could you feel the outline of her lips in the fabric, and it sets you on fire nonetheless.

“Thank you,” you murmur, unsure of how to respond and dizzy with excitement.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she warns, voice a bit muffled. She pulls down the bandanna one last time, and with a wink, tells you,

“I’ll be back for my hat.”

[pendragon1400]

In honor of Valentine's day here is how all the campions act at a amusement park date in bg3. Modern au.

Karlach: Eats an inhuman amount of cotton candy, and likes all the test your strength games. Likes to win a bunch of stuffed animals for tav, and when Tav wins one for her she gushes over it.

Shadowheart: Enjoys the dunk tank, and rollercoasters. She will see the most horrible looking ride and dare anyone she is with to go on it with her. Likes the rides the turn you upside down the most. Never will admit it, but likes the tunnel of love.

Lae'zel: You may think she goes for the rollercoasters, and she does like them. But it's the bumper cars that she enjoys the most. To the point where you actually start to fear for your life a few times. Sees barkers as people issuing a challenge, and she can and will win.

Wyll: You know for a fact that the first place he takes Tav is the tunnel of love. Than he wins Tav a bear and they watch fireworks together on the ferris wheel.

Gale: I have the feeling that Gale HATES rollercoasters. He gets matching face painting with Tav, tries to win at the ring toss or some other game then gets into an argument about how the game is rigged, bc logically speaking ect. Gale gets the prize just so he moves away from the stand. I also feel like Gale would enjoy flat rides, just because you are not being flipped through the air. Or like maybe a hang glider ride.

Astarion: Plays the rigged game and somehow wins anyway. Calls rollercoasters death traps, he doesn't mind if Tav goes on, but he is staying on the ground thank you. Doesn't like fast rides. Will not eat the random deep fried food from "questionable stands" Refuses the tunnel of love on the grounds that it's cheesy. But enjoys watching Tav's face as they enjoy the various aspects of the park, and at the end of the night adores watching the fireworks together.

Halsin: Doesn't really like it/came for Tav's enjoyment. Likes to try the different food but doesn't find Tav buying him a bear claw humorous. I also feel like he would enjoy a house of mirrors.

Minthara: Does not come, and will break up with you/kill you if you offer it again.

[earthtoharlow]

For Jack & Maryse 💓

“I mean it’s common sense is it not?”

Main Series Masterlist

Maryse sat back on the beanbag, hands resting on her growing belly, entertained as she watched Jack and Urban wrestle with the pieces of the twin cribs. The instructions lay discarded to the side, clearly forgotten in their “we got this” confidence.

Jack pushed his glasses up his nose as he held what looked like part of the frame, staring at it as if willing it to assemble itself. Urban was flipping through random wooden pieces, none of which seemed to match.

“Bro, how does this even…?” Jack trailed off, holding up a random piece. “Where does this go?”

Urban squinted at the piece in Jack’s hand, then back at the growing pile of unassembled crib parts. “I mean, it’s common sense, is it not?”

Maryse, barely holding in her laughter, raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?” she teased, watching as Jack fumbled with a screw that flew across the room.

“Don’t start,” Jack warned, shaking his head. “This stuff just wasn’t built for guys like us.”

Urban nodded in agreement. “Yeah, they don’t take real-world experience into account with these things.”

Maryse burst out laughing, “Real-world experience? You mean not reading the instructions?”

Jack shot her a playful look. “I thought you were supposed to be on our side.”

“Oh, I am,” she replied with a smirk, “but from here, it looks like the cribs are winning.”

Urban groaned, looking at the pile of parts. “We could totally do this… if we had, like, three more hands.”

Jack chuckled, glancing at Maryse’s belly. “Well, technically we have two more sets of hands coming soon… but they might not be much help right now.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing. “You’re gonna need those instructions, trust me.”

Reluctantly, Urban picked up the crumpled instructions, holding them up like they were written in another language. “Alright, let’s see what these things are actually saying.”

Jack sighed in defeat. “Guess I have to be a dad and an engineer, huh?”

Maryse grinned. “Common sense, right?”

[hana-bobo-finch]

Uh oh!!! You know what time it is!!! Time to yap about more pikmin headcanons!!!

• Yonny did almost all of dingo’s work in school for him. He has zero regrets. It started off as him trying to tutor dingo but it immediately became extremely obvious that math/science just wasn’t going to click with him so yonny just…did it all for him

• Louie hums to himself. A lot. Very terribly, might I add. Not even any real melody just random sounds. He thinks olimar can’t hear him but he can. Oh boy can he. It drives Olimar up the wall but he’s too polite to ever bring it up

• Nelle barely ever talks to Yorke or Dobbs but is constantly not-so-secretly listening in on all of their conversations. She just watches on silently. Only occasionally chimes in. Yorke and Dobbs just assume she doesn’t like being around them that much but nah, she likes just lurking around them

• Dobbs is a GAMER. He is an absolutely TERRIBLE gamer

• Dingo purposefully tries to put yonny in danger just so he can swoop in for a “heroic save.” It never works and somehow dingo’s always the one who has to be heroically saved

• santi, in a deep, twisted part of his heart, wishes Bernard would “go missing” in a tragic ship crash. He feels terrible for thinking it but…he does.

• After koppai’s food crisis was solved by alph and co Yorke had absolutely NO idea what to do with his life, considering his entire life up until that point was treasure hunting to try to earn money for food

• Louie’s had intense screaming matches with the president multiple times. Only time he ever raises his voice above a whisper. It scares the crap out of Olimar

• Yonny is demiromantic

• Nelle and Brittany haven’t spoken since they were teens. They absolutely despised each other at the time and it would often escalate to physical fights. They’d probably get along just fine as adults but they’re both too petty to be the one to try to reach out to mend things

• Collin gives wonderful hugs!!! If any of the other rescue corps are upset he’ll give them a big ol hug. Provided they want one.

• Louie is bffs with the ship. Mostly because it’s not an actual person. The ship would get extremely offended if he said this but it’s true, he finds it a lot easier to talk to a machine than a person. That weird bond they have is the only reason the ship didn’t snitch on him for eating the golden pikpik carrots.

• Dingo puts himself in dangerous situations just so he could get pampered by yonny in the medical ward. He is unaware that they can just…hang out normally

• Collin has a wonderful singing voice but would rather die than sing in front of anyone. On the flip side shepherd sounds like a dying animal but is just about addicted to karaoke

• Yorke has zero sleep schedule. He will fall asleep whenever and wherever he wants. Even during an active treasure hunt

• Olimar used to be incredibly concerned and disgusted with Louie cooking the creatures they brought back to the point he was genuinely considering calling HR. Eventually he caved in and tried some of Louie’s cooking abd did a complete 180

• Olimar desperately wants to cook with Louie but Louie gets extremely territorial when he’s cooking. If Olimar steps foot in the kitchen while he’s working Louie will go feral

• Yorke is pretty much the hairdresser for Nelle and dobbs when they’re on a long treasure hunting trip. He’s not all that good at it but they don’t mind the shabby look

• Yorke is a chronic makeup-stealer. He doesn’t even use it all too often but he’ll grab any he can find and stash it away. Especially eyeshadow he steals that the most

• ^ adding onto this he is a horrible liar. Absolutely horrible. Noooo Nelle what are you talking about I didn’t steal anything my eyelids just naturally look like this………………..

• Bernard wears sunglasses over sunglasses. At most he will wear 4 pairs at a time. He thinks it multiplies his coolness (he is correct!)

• Alph used to have long hair before getting it cut in an attempt to match charlie

That is all goodbye

[sommerregenjuniluft]

mtf barty? i don’t think i’ve ever seen that before, color me intrigued

she goes by Bee mostly. it’s feminine enough for her liking but in her mind got a badass edge to it due to the sting factor which she likes a lot. she started growing out her hair starting high school and was always the weird loner kid with the long-ish hair, dark clothes sitting alone at lunch with a fuckin pocket knife leering at everyone that came too close. so much fucking rage and resent in her body it makes her physically look sick, pale skin, always dark shadows under her eyes. junior year she came out and obviously that was a fucking mess. she keeps getting sent to the principals office/into detention for starting fights or mouthing off at other students being transphobic. obviously the arguments with her dad only get worse from then on out to the point where Bee punches walls and shit, destroys picture frames or like stuff in Bartemius’ office and he gets all up in her face about it

warning for child abuse, misgendering/deadnaming kind of (and general trans and homophobia) uuh and knife violence but like no cutting

“Stop, Barty!” her father roars just as Bee picks another picture frame off his desk and volleys it into the corner of the room. “I said Stop!”

“Or fuckin’ what?” Bee spits, temples throbbing with anger, “You already treat me like scum! How’s it supposed to get any worse around here?!”

She blinks furious tears out of her eyes, breaking his gaze to look for something else to let her emotions out at. Before Bee has the opportunity to get her hands on something else Bartemius is there, fingers clasped harshly around her biceps. “You keep doing that and see where it gets you.”

His voice is dark and it reminds Bee of the few months after her mum died.

Her father would come home late from whatever shit hole bar he drank himself half to unconsciousness after work. Bee would microwave the leftover dinner and make sure he’d fall asleep sideways on the couch. Unless he came with questions. Half delirious, a tennis match of back and forth between What did you get on your English test? and Where’s your mother? and Why not full score? and Why do you always wear your hair so long? You look dirty. Like a queer. And he’d work himself up, get angry until he’d backhand Bee across the face if she made the mistake of standing too close.

But Bee isn’t 14 anymore and she’s frankly at her fucking limit.

Today they’re about the same height. “You don’t scare me anymore,” she growls, trying to tug free.

They both jostle in place but Bartemius’ grip is iron resolute.

A muscle in her father’s jaw flutters, “You’ve lost all respect. So long as your under my roof you listen to my rules, son.”

His words are like embers to the gasoline mess that’s burning in Bee’s bloodstream.

“I’m not your fucking son!” she rips her elbow back with enough force to make him stumble and just as quickly throws her arm back out hitting her fist right against his cheek.

Bartemius’ head whips around at the impact as he staggers back and onto his desk and Bee has to suppress the violent urge to pick up the chair next to her and throw it after him as well. A strand of hair is stuck in her mouth, fringe fallen into her eyes, and her chest heaves up and down with the absolute frustration boiling inside her.

Her father rolls his jaw, swiveling to glare back at her. “Now that wasn’t very ladylike, was it?”

Before she knows it Bee has reached into her back pocket and flipped out the blade of her pocket knife, held precisely against the aorta of Bartemius’ throat. “You’re just bitter you got your shit rocked by a girl.”

“Careful.” Her father growls, tone warning but Bee is done listening.

“Leave me alone or watch yourself choke on your dinner on a random Thursday night from rat poisoning,” Bee hisses, shoving the blade deeper before turning on her heel and storming out. One more second in his presence and she would find herself with a one way ticket into juvie.

[raquellemonsta]

accidental perfect match (kirishima eijirou x reader)

masterlist

happy halloween!

this is my first mha related post! I love kiri so who better than him <3 hope you like it :)

----

so far, college had been the most draining experience of your life. that's why you were relieved when it finally came time for halloween: the quintessential college holiday. it being your freshmen year, you were excited to get a taste of your first official 'halloweekend'. in fact, you had spent the past hour getting ready with a few of your friends, now making the trek down to the frats.

for your costume, you had gone with the totally-not overdone barbie from the new movie (that you'd gone to see three times when it first came out). specifically, you chose the one from the rollerblading scene, mostly for the cute, bright colors. it was a win-win because it kept you somewhat modest while also exposing enough skin that you wouldn't be entirely overheated.

you didn't fully commit, as you were without the rollerblades themselves, though the entire walk down to frat row made you thank your lucky stars you weren't barreling down any hills. there were tons of other people out walking, and the closer you got to the houses the more people there were. it was nice to see everyone in costumes

you ended up getting in to a house through one of your friends (who claimed she knew a "mirio"), even though the guy at the door probably would've let you in anyway. your friends were much quicker than you and made it through the door faster than you.

upon walking in, you decided to head for the living room. the room was bathed in a deep purple from led lights, along with random 'spooky' decorations thrown haphazardly all over the space. there was beer pong set up on some cheap folding table to the far side of the room, while in front of you some people were playing flip cup. you decided to just watch, not really in the mood to get start drinking just yet.

you were intently watching flip cup for who knows how long, when there was a commotion from the beer pong players. a blond dude was raging and threw down one of the plastic cups (it looked like he had missed), while his teammate on the other side was standing there typing away on his phone. the general volume of the room caused the already chaotic scene that the blond guy was making to amplify, reaching a high when you heard an excited yell and watched a guy wearing rollerblades barreled into the table and broke it in half.

he was wearing a costume almost identical to your own.

the angry blond looked like he was going to murder the man that was now sprawled out over the table and now-crushed cups. he started telling him off, and even over the loud music and dozen other people talking you could hear him yelling obscenities, as the man on the ground only laughed and removed the skates. that was when the blond somehow felt unfamiliar eyes staring at him and looked up directly at you. his eyes widened for the briefest second before you saw his eyebrows knit in confusion, looking between you and the guy on the ground. you could barely make out the way he began talking to him in a much more level tone and-

he looked over at you. you barely registered as he rose to his feet and started to walk over to you. your eyes widened, and you started to look around the room for either of the friends you came with. to your horror, they were nowhere to be found. you shift your eyes back in front of you and your stomach sinks as you make direct eye contact with the redheaded stranger.

"i like your costume" he grinned. you were immediately drawn to his smile, with strangely sharp teeth that seemed slightly unnatural. you couldn't ignore how attractive he was though, even in the dark room you were entirely captivated by him. his gorgeous red eyes caught your attention, and you couldn't help but notice a tiny scar above his right one.

"i wasn't brave enough to actually wear the skates" you quietly laughed, causing his smile to become even brighter. he leaned in closer to hear you better, and you felt your heart skip at the close proximity to such a handsome man. sure, lots of guys at college were somewhat attractive, but this one was entirely sexy, for lack of a better word. "that was quite a stunt".

"would you believe me if i told you i'm completely sober right now?" you looked at him incredulously. no way…

"i believe you" you blurted out before you could even think of a response. he chuckled at the slightly embarrassed expression on your face, and you swore you could see a slight pink tint to his cheeks.

"i'm glad i have a beautiful barbie's trust" he smoothly responded, though not in a creepy, overly-flirty way. it was sweet.

"well this barbie's name is (y/n)" you attempted to flirt back, though you slightly cringed at the unnatural way you said it. you were literally acting like a character straight out of a cheesy rom-com. he didn't seem to care though,

"eijirou" he slightly bowed. you were coming to find he was quite the gentleman. the two of you shared some more small talk, though most of it was spent intently gazing into each others eyes and feeling your heartbeat against your ribs.

"can we get a picture?" you finally asked. you had been thinking about it for most of the conversation, that this was just too perfect a coincidence to pass up. he gave you another one of his big grins before pulling his phone out and taking several pictures. it was definitely going to make your instagram. you quickly typed your number into his phone and smiled when your phone buzzed, looking down to go through the pictures.

"will you dance with me?" he suddenly spoke again. you looked up in slight shock and then nodded your head, unable to keep the involuntary smile from breaking out over your face. you had been smiling so much with him tonight that your cheeks were on fire. it was so worth it though.

"yes" you were able to verbalize, just loud enough so he could hear you. you were suddenly so aware of the speakers booming in the backyard, the structure of the house vibrating and filling your body with an exciting rush.

"give me a second". you watched him in slight confusion as he turned around, staying in the same spot he was in. he pumped his fist in happiness and yelled:

"sublime!"

you definitely have a big, fat crush.

[glittervame]

It's shit.

This is the most random shit. Don't mind it <3

Heartbreak High x Oc! Reader, it's a teen drama you know what to expect

Pt. 2

I met Harper and Amerie when I was five years old, I had been dropped off by my mom, and my curls bounced behind me as I walked through the door being met by the sight of a girl with brown hair pointing at a picture that was on the blond girls' paper.

"What's that?" even if you weren't looking at her face you could tell that she was judging immensely, I walked up table peering over her shoulder.

"It's a crocodile" The blond blinked up at them, then frowned looking back down at her paper.

I narrowed my eyes as I tried to imagine the animal I looked at the green blob, "It's shit" being brutally honest, knuckles bumping the ones of the girl next to me in a fist bump. We both grin at each other as the blond across from us flips us off.

We've been best friends ever since.

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

Nothing could ever come between us, like three peas in a pod, we've always been each other's ride or dies.

"One, two, three!" I count off as I clutch onto both of their hands as we jump into the pool. All three of us giggle as we splash each other as much as we can.

My skin was with a permanent swimsuit tan after that summer, it didn't go away until snow started falling and it just reminded me of how much fun I have with my friend.

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

Harper and Amerie started getting super into romance, I said it was because they didn't have their own lives but they just shook me off accusing me of being a hater. Honestly, I thought it was amusing until they did it all the time.

I was trying to find myself during the time, I started experimenting with a lot of different things, currently standing at my locker with the girls I was trying to match my left eyeliner wing to my perfect right one when they started mimicking the couple across from us.

"I swear to God, Jessica, you know I'm good for it."

"If you touch her again I'll f*ckin' smash ya, ya cheatin' dog."

"No babe, I'm f*ckin'..."

"Kiss me."

When they started making kissing noises, I had to walk away.

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

"Amerie. Hello?" I snap my finger in front of her face trying to get her attention.

Harper groans, "Amerie! Stop staring at Dusty, you're obsessed."

"It's fucking weird and you look like a stalker" I add, scrolling through my Instagram feed.

"Destined" Amerie sighs, "I just don't get it" She looks at said boy longingly before I smack her on the back of her neck, "Ow!"

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

"Honey, we're home!"

I raise my head from a lap when I hear Amerie's voice carried out through the quad and blink owlishly at the girl as our eyes meet.

A snicker comes from my right as my pillow slides off the wall and walks over to the girl, "Missing your fourth witch?" He laughs.

Amerie's nose scrunches, "Piss off, Spider" she snaps.

The blond clutches his heart dramatically, falling into his best friend's arms, "Ooh!"

I watch as Dusty walks over to the girl making small talk, I walk up as the girls start giggling and walking away, not even paying any attention to the fact that they had just bumped into Quinni.

"What a pick-me bitch. Also rude" Darren companies

"Maybe they didn't see us?" Quinni questions obliviously, looking after the girls.

"Oh, please. Check the material" They gesture to themselves, "We are beautiful, exquisite jellyfish"

"Glittery, glowing jellyfish" I chime in walking up to them.

"Amithest!" Quinni pulls me into a hug and Darren gives me a one-over, "What are we doing, going back in time?" They point at my black and white outfit.

I sigh dramatically, "It's all that fits me right now" placing a hand over my heart.

"You can't sit with us!" Darren playfully shreaks, crossing their arms over their chest, turning away.

I was about to retort when something caught my eye, "Ooo, fresh blood" I said looking at the new boy up and down.

Darren's lips parted as they were about to sit something, I'll never know what it was because someone started yelling.

"Oi! There's a fully-gacked sex map in the old stairwell!"

"Out of my way, you shits" I huff as I struggle against the crowd, I shove a guy out of my path causing him to fall into his friends, whispers forming around me, I look up at the map my mouth agape in aw, "What in the kid's helpline?"

It was a map of everyone who fuck everyone, a girl's name had a little note that read 'Couldn't walk for three days' I snorted at that, "That's true" Someone chimed in pointing at it.

"Cum queen!" A guy cheers from the back

I could hear Spider reading things off of the wall, "Jenny got fisted!" he clapped a guy on the back, Jesus "Mary's a good screamer-"

"We already knew about that" I chime in and he pushes my face away from him with his hand, "Dam check out Sasha's body count" He points. Dusty's mouth is agape as he looks at it, "Oh my god, what?" I giggle at his face before turning at the sound of a commotion.

"You scissored Greta Bathgate? Before or after we broke up?"

"I don't remember."

"You don't remember?"

"I'm pretty sure we were on a break, but... Wait, Missy."

"Nah, I need space, man."

"Oh shit," I let out a gasp, I elbow Spider in the ribs as he started laughing pointing to a name on the wall, "Dude, Darren jerked you off? Nice bro, you into dudes?" He wraps an arm around Ant, "A little cheeky, huh?"

Darren sharply turns around, "Who said I'm a dude?"

"Quinni, lazy kebab," a boy said somewhere from in the crowd.

Quinni came up beside them and started talking, but Amethyst didn't hear her she couldn't hear anything over the ringing in her ears as she looked at the map, and alas she had found her name on the map.

Amethyst ─── Bisexual ⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒

                                                                ↳

                                                                                     Ant

                    Missy

[ashlingiswriting]

do i know you? chapter eight

[ chapter eight — 6.4k words ] [ masterlist ] [ prev chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven ] "well, now you know what to get me for christmas." richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn warning: drugs, insects

the next day, you wake to your customary darkness. outside your window light snow whispers against your window and thick clouds beyond promise there’s more where that came from. you pull a mini pizza from the freezer, crack an egg on top and put it in the toaster oven, call that protein. boil some water in your smallest pot. pull out your favorite chipped blue mug.

the dream did come last night, but its dread was dulled by early waking. you’re grateful for that. this is about as good as it gets, you think: tea on the way, a thick stillness enveloping your apartment, the city outside preparing to sleep while you keep watch. 

but wait, the phone. 

you go into your room and kneel by the bed.

michael’s small box is half-empty now that you’ve put his shirt in the wash, so the nokia is easy to find. when you flip it open, he’s there, waiting for you—one unread text—and in the sleepy silence, a bubble of incredulous unreality balloons and then bursts. it’s not michael.

they all blur into each other like drops of blood in water: you’re crushed to find that he’s still gone, relieved he’s still gone, guilty you were relieved, relieved that richie’s texted—no, happy—no, that’s embarrassing, but you can’t help it. it’s happiness and it’s something else. happiness is the warmth by your side and something else is the radiator.

the message turns out to be a single emoji, the one with the pink tongue sticking out. definitely richie. with no idea what that’s supposed to mean, you try to think of something equally silly. failing that, you pull up wikipedia on the phone and generate random wikipedia articles until you finally come across a fragment that strikes you as too beautiful to pass up. you weren’t looking for beautiful, but what the hell, it’s charmed you. copy, paste, and send.

> it was announced on january 30, 2023, that she will be writing an original poem dedicated to nasa's europa clipper. the europa clipper will launch in 2024, and by 2030, will be orbiting jupiter. limón's poem will be engraved into the craft.

not expecting an immediate reply, you replace the lid on the box and slide it back under your bed, only to hear the vibration of the phone against the wooden floorboards.

reading what he’s written makes you smile. proper punctuation and all, mimicking you. can’t tell if it’s meant to be snide or if he’s just matching what he thinks is your mood. you’ll take it either way.

> must be a bad motherfucker, that limon.

> must be.

> is she your favorite poet or something?

you feel a dissonant twinge of pride and shame. you once had a favorite poet, but that was a long time ago.

> i haven’t decided yet. are you getting better?

> i haven’t decided yet. i had three grape popsicles in bed for my breakfast, it’s kind of hard to argue with that.

> malingerer.

> i’m actually polish.

and so on. 

when he finally says goodbye so he can go back to sleep, you’re still laughing a little to yourself, and you’ve been kneeling there beside the bed for so long that your knees ache.

.

.

.

in the days that follow, richie texts you at exactly the time he’d usually visit. you stand outside like he’s still there, have a couple cigarettes, and enjoy the nonsense even as your fingertips go numb in the cold. once, he sends a picture of a meme so italian that you don’t get it. you obviously weren’t meant to get it, either, so you respond by sending him the middle finger emoji, which he, nonsensically, hearts.

if he needs help, he’ll ask for it, you think. you hope. he seems to be on the mend. anyways, you no longer feel that fear except in dreams, and you stop wondering when he’s gonna text and start expecting it, and then, less than a week later, he shows up. you know this because he texts, where are you?

you open the window and stick your head out into an eddy of snow. sure, you’re glad to see him, but: it’s too fucking cold for this!

he waves.

man was feverish for literally days and here he is in mid december with a hoodie under his leather coat but no scarf, absolute idiot, and so you close the window, go down to meet him, and break the rule. standing there, holding the door open, you say, c’mon. 

he’s surprisingly perceptive. he walks over, but he doesn’t cross the threshold, just pauses in front of you.

i don’t think we can smoke in there, he says.

we can’t, you say, moving back one more step, making even more room for him. or at least i can’t. i don't want to get evicted. my landlady will do it too.

yeah? he says, not moving. you're scared of her?

you shrug. you've moved back as far as you can, you're letting all the cold air in, and there's nothing you can do except say please.

you say, she's like four foot tall and a hundred years old, man. women that tiny that survive that long? you should be scared of them.

as if that was the final straw—though how could it be?—richie walks inside. without skipping a beat and for no reason you can figure out, richie walks inside.

learn my ways, sweetheart, he says, touching his chest and giving you his very best look of ridiculous condescension. old women love me.

as you close the door behind him, you fend off a stray, ridiculous burst of giddiness. it's just the lobby, pale linoleum floors and a single artificial plant by the elevators, but it feels radically different from the concrete outside. no cigarettes, no excuses. he’s only there for one reason.

old women do not love you, you say.

they do!

tina loves you. the rest of them, i don't know.

he snorts. you really don't want to be standing face to face with him for however long you’ve got him, so you lean on the wall instead, and he settles by your side the same way he always does.

when he looks over at you, there’s a hint of sly mischief in his eyes that makes you say, what?

wait for it, he says, and when you open your mouth, he holds up a finger.

you roll your eyes, but you hold your tongue with no idea what this is about, undisguised curiosity, and a readiness to be delighted.

you hear that? he finally says.

wind, maybe, or the distant rattle of a train? nothing special. you shake your head no.

that, richie says, is the sound of the sky not falling. 

knowing he noticed, that’s the worst thing about being told that everything is gonna be okay. it’s also the best thing. you shove him with a bony, solid elbow. i should’ve let you freeze.

he catches himself before he can topple, his smile gone goofy and so pleased. fuckin drama queen.

full han solo style, block of ice.

it was carbonite, not ice. how do you not know star wars?

course i know star wars, you lie. how do you live in chicago and not own a hat?

i have hats. i just also have a car.

uh-huh. if he wants to trade accusations, you’ve got a doozy you’ve saved up till you could turn it on him in person.  i noticed the other day that your place isn’t exactly in a location that makes my place ‘on the way home’ from the beef. 

he’s caught, not sorry. grins. you noticed that, did you.

yeah, i might not be from around here, but i still know north from south, all that shit. 

well okay, sherlock. you wanna charge me with a crime? the challenge in his eyes says it all; he knows you’re not unhappy to find he lied. 

you still need to get a hat, you say.

well, now you know what to get me for christmas.

you’re getting jack shit.

you already know what you’re getting him for christmas. 

.

.

.

kraft’s mac and cheese is a christmas tradition in a two-person slice of your family, and you’re one half of that slice, so mac and cheese is the first thing you think of when richie tells you he’ll be there for christmas eve. 

after that, it’s on to donna’s on christmas day. then i’m gonna kidnap carmy for some ice fishing, he says.

you ever been ice fishing before? you say. 

he splutters. do i not strike you as a, uh, an experienced-ass f—

no.

—fisherman and woodsman, and like—

nope.

—man of the… he gives up. whatever?

do you have a float suit? 

richie exhales smoke and fixes you with a look, annoyed but curious.

i’m carmen fucking sandiego, you say, by way of explanation. of course you’ve been ice fishing, you’ve been all over the world.  

sure you are, he says. he waves a dismissive hand. my buddy’s got all the stuff, we’ll be fine. it’s whatever, i just gotta get carmy out of the city so the only things he ends up killing are fish.

his first christmas since. you don’t have to finish the sentence.

yup, richie says.

it’s richie’s first christmas since, too, but there’s no call to say that. 

lapsing into a companionable silence and shrinking a little closer to the building as the wind picks up, you decide that you’re definitely gonna make him kraft mac and cheese for christmas eve. he wouldn’t take it as a letdown, he'd laugh at the single spinach leaf on top. he’d get it.

.

.

.

on christmas eve, ten minutes before you’re expecting richie to show up, you get a text message.

> need u 

it’s the wrong phone, though. it’s your work phone, and after everything those fuckers have done, they can’t possibly be calling you in on christmas eve. not now. your butter’s already cut, your colander’s in the sink, and you’re stirring the pot of boiling macaroni with a couple takeout chopsticks. they can’t—

the phone starts ringing. you pick up. 

fuck off, you say.

no wait! 

the voice is familiar; it’s kevin, a man so stupid that he once introduced himself to you out of anxious friendliness even though you’ve always made very clear that you don’t want to know anybody’s names. kevin must have you on speakerphone, because in the background, you can hear the telltale sounds of somebody else cursing in a continuous wretched stream. that piques your curiosity.

thirty seconds, you say. keep it clean. meaning, don’t give me names. 

kevin says, we were doing a thing and some stuff happened. 

that’s no use. he kept it a little too clean. you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between two fingers. you were doing a thing on christmas eve?

we thought…look, can you just come? aren’t you on call? isn’t this your job?

you tell me, you say. it’s been radio silence on my phone for three weeks and i haven’t gotten paid for almost a month now. 

oh.

yeah, you say, knowing damn well that it’s not kevin’s fault, but more than happy to take this out on somebody. they fucking ghosted me.

sorry to hear that, man, he says awkwardly. 

a thought occurs to you. likelihood of the carusos being involved in some shitbrained christmas eve scheme pulled by kevin? nil.

was this even a sanctioned thing? you say. like, did—

you know what, it’s fine, kevin says hurriedly. it’s basically a flesh wound.

the guy in the background howls, i got shot in the fucking foot!

shut up, howie, kevin hisses. you hang up.

there’s no reason for you to get involved. no orders, no blackmail, and probably no money; plus, your timer is counting down the last minute of macaroni boiling and richie will be on his way soon. 

you pocket your phone, walk back to the stove, and resume stirring. 

no reason for you to get involved. your timer rings out, so you dump out the pasta, put it back in the pot with the butter, add some water and the cheesy powder, stir with an eye for sauce thickness, wait for it to settle you. it doesn’t.

the thing is, there are so many small tricky bones in the foot, and you haven’t had a real surgery challenge in ages. ever since your bosses ghosted you, you’ve just been staying in your apartment, in limbo, seeing nobody except richie and occasionally a cashier. sleeping and waking neither on your old strict schedule nor on a normal daylight one. doing nothing, worth basically nothing. 

so yeah, you text kevin.

> send me the address

then, as quick as you can so you don’t have time to overthink it, you text richie. 

> work emergency, i have to cancel. sorry. 

the response is immediate.

> text me when you get home.

you realize that you’re still stirring, and you turn off the stove. although you give him a couple minutes, richie doesn’t add anything. no joke to put spikes on the soft gesture, no expression of disappointment to make you feel guilty for canceling this late. nothing. text me when you get home, that’s all.

if you were that generous, you’d text back don’t stay up, let him get some extra sleep in preparation for tomorrow’s christmas hell. but you don’t. you want to think of him waiting for his phone to chime, staying awake for you, thinking of you, even worrying. so you react with a thumbs up to his message.

the next time your phone goes ping, it’s kevin sending you the address, and you head for the door. 

.

.

.

you’re sitting on a coffee table beside the old sofa that holds your resting patient. lying on the coffee table beside you are half a dozen grape skittles, the remainder of your christmas eve meal. there’s literally baggies of cocaine sitting on the kitchen table, the tv is playing charlie and the chocolate factory, and everyone involved in this—including yourself—is so stupid that you’re all definitely going to jail. but you’re having one of your good nights.

only drugs compare to the state of pure focus that surgery grants you, and even though it’s always in shit circumstances done for shit people, you can’t help but feel like a serious machine doing all this ad hoc emergency shit. this has to be how athletes feel, after a game. it’s physical: your vision feels clearer, your hands are steady, your body’s slouched comfortable and sated. it was decent work you did, given the lack of fucking everything. you’re pretty sure howie won’t even have that bad of a limp. 

kevin finishes counting your pay and hands it over. you begin to count it again, too—twenty, forty, sixty—and then look up at him. 

what? he says.

you haul yourself up and walk over to the kitchen table, ignoring the cocaine in favor of the scale, on which you place a twenty. it comes up as 0.94 grams when it should be a single 1.0. so you throw your earnings in the sink, get out your lighter, and set it on fire.

the fire alarm! kevin rushes over to turn the tap on and put it out.

you can hear howie calling from the couch, what’s burning? 

kev just tried to cheat me. 

i did not, kevin says miserably, it was a misunderstanding. 

he pulls his own wallet out of his back pocket and starts to count the money, but you take it from his hands, sit at the kitchen table, and begin counting money yourself, weighing each bill as you go. once you’ve taken a hundred and fifty, you stand up and call over to howie, night.

yo, howie says. is my, like. what are the chances they gotta amputate?

that gets you a little, despite everything. howie spent the past few hours thinking he was gonna lose an entire foot, and he was stubbornly proud enough that he almost made it without admitting the fear to anyone. in a way, you gotta give it to him. admiration’s too grand a word, but it’s something like that. 

chances are super low, you say. as long as you follow instructions, keep an eye out for infection, and don’t get hooked on pills, you’re gonna be fine. 

for a second, there’s silence. then: thanks, babygirl.

for that, you take another forty dollars from kevin’s wallet and point them at him. asshole tax, you say.

as soon as you’re out of the house, you can hear kevin locking the door behind you. then he says, goodnight!

i shoulda robbed you, you say. then you start down the sidewalk. it’s bitter cold and you’re not a hundred percent sure you’re headed in the right direction, but just then you feel invincible. 

fuckin jagoffs, say to yourself.

.

.

.

on the train home, the peace and quiet is interrupted by a herd of college girls, twentysomethings all decked out in tinsel necklaces, clearly on their way to a different party, and hitting all the wrong notes in deck the halls.

most days, you’d hate this, but in your current state of satisfaction with yourself and the world in general, their effortless enjoyment doesn’t seem to completely shut you out. they’re so young, and one of them is sitting in another’s lap while a third drapes herself over her shoulder. they smell like spiced rum, they make it hard to be a bitter old crone.

one of the carolers makes direct eye contact with you, and instead of having the decency to keep herself to herself, she extends her hand to you and sings even louder, fa-la-la-la-ing like she’s god’s gift. for a second, you let yourself mouth along, fa-la-la-ing, but then she says, come on, i know you can do better than that! and nope, nope. fuck it.

you try to look away, she yells another, come on! and you give her the death glare. surprisingly, she keeps beckoning to you—they’re stubborn, kids these days—but eventually you win the way you knew you would.

she looks away and whispers in the ear of the lap-sitter. that girl, the tiniest of them all, gives you a look that could sear meat. you could break her in half with one hand tied behind her back, she really has the build of a hummingbird, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping her.

you roll your eyes, lean back with exaggerated deliberation, and get out your phone. 

> i’m home.

you want somebody of your own, you want richie’s reply. but none comes. 

he’s not waiting for you outside your apartment building, either, so there goes that mad hope.

.

.

.

when you get inside your apartment, you kneel to untie your boots and spot a flicker of movement on the floor. it’s a black ant scurrying towards your countertop. with a rising sense of horror, you straighten up and see a swarm of ants, dozens and dozens, maybe a hundred busily moving little black dots, crawling to and from the pot of macaroni and cheese on your stove. your stomach turns, and if you’d had a real dinner, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from throwing it up. as it is, you just gag. it feels like a violation, an invasion, and you’re more outraged about these fucking ants in your apartment—your fucking apartment—than you ever were about getting not paid or cheated or maybe even blackmailed. 

you go into the kitchenette and get the ant spray out from under the sink, then you stand back and spray everything in sight. the whole fucking counter, even though, yes, you cook your food on that, and the stove, and the floor for good measure. fuck them all. 

you should’ve known better than to leave food uncovered in this apartment. you’ve lived here for three years and this always fucking happens. you’d think the novelty would’ve worn off, but nope. it’s still as disgusting as it was the first time you woke up to see last night’s plate covered in black.

today, the spray isn’t working fast enough for you, so you get out a trash bag, put the pot in it, and head out for the dumpster. 

out there in the cold, waiting for the ant spray to do its work inside the trash bag, you remember that you left your lighter in kevin’s house. you tip your head back and look up at the sky. it’s so thickly smothered in clouds, there’s barely a glow of moon. 

yeah, you say. 

after a while, you untie the bag, shake the dead ants off your pot, and throw the bag away. you’d stomp on the ants for spite, but that would necessitate looking at them, and you’ve had more than enough of that. you just head back for home.

you almost make it to the front door, and then you smell it, the smoke.

well? richie says from around the corner. he must have heard your footsteps. you coming or what? 

you walk the last few steps and there, just around the corner, there he is. he has the navy hood pulled up over his head, both his hands shoved deep in his pockets, a cigarette between both lips. he looks at your pot with interest. 

after a second, you say, you’re late.

something tickles the inside of your wrist and you flinch. one last ant has crawled up the handle of the pot and onto your arm; you drop the pot in the snow and shake the ant off you. it lands by richie, and he stomps it dead matter-of-factly. 

it takes everything you’ve got not to start swearing like howie with a shot foot.

merry christmas? richie says after a second. 

merry fuckin christmas. you reach out and take the cigarette from his lips. long drag. you needed that. 

settling beside him so both of you can look out into the night, you hand the cigarette back. and that’s how it is for a while, sharing. the wind thins out, the streetlight across the way reflects in the glass of another apartment building's door.

when your body’s finally calmed down, you look over at him. i got you something.

aw, you didn’t have to, he say, a little curious and not particularly surprised. he probably thinks it’s a joke. 

you hold your right hand palm up, and he takes his right hand out of its warm jacket pocket to mirror the gesture. then you reach into your hoodie and unclasp his gift from your neck. 

the chain is gold. thick, but not so thick that it comes across comical. incongruous with you and with him, the weight of it and the shine, how new it is. when you lay it in his hand, it looks like a golden snake, intricate and flawless. 

after a second, he gives you his cigarette like he can’t both smoke and think about it. then he speaks. 

this is fake, yeah, he says.

hundred percent fake. 

actually, it’s regifted. it was originally one of your boss’s christmas bonus gifts, and given that you pawned all the other christmas bonus gifts to pay rent, you’re pretty sure that the chain is solid gold. it’s for the best that he doesn’t know it, though.

as you watch, he puts it on, fumbling a little with the clasp. looks at it for a second, tucks it back inside his coat. there goes the last 

yeah? you say, after a second. 

yeah. think i like this sugar baby shit. keep ‘em coming, he says. 

you laugh, real, so relieved that he didn’t take it weird, so relieved that you got lucky tonight and he got it the way he sometimes can, acceptance without explanation.

he lets you laugh, and then he says, mine’s better, though.

diamonds?

it’s back at my place, he says. i can drive?

you want that so bad, and you didn't even think to want it just seconds before.

yeah, you say, dropping the cigarette and stomping it out right beside the dead ant, unbothered. 

you want to take the pot up? 

you shrug, crouch down, and cover it with some snow; you’re not gonna leave him down here waiting for you, and you’re not gonna take him up to the horrorshow of dead ants either.

it’s still pretty obvious, richie says.

it’s christmas eve, who’s gonna bother digging in dirty snow to steal a pot?

this is chicago.

this is idle argument as companionship and you know that, but you're impatient. are you taking me home or what? yes, you can hear the double entendre. no, you don't fucking care.

there’s a slight pause before richie says, car’s this way.

.

.

.

in the car, there’s crumbs but not much mess; a coupon for personal pizzas in the cupholder, and that’s it. he must have cleaned.

when he starts the engine, you say, wait, and make an elaborate show of putting on your seatbelt. then you say, okay, now i’m ready.

fuck you, he says, and he’s still smiling when he starts to drive. 

the radio is playing carols dimly in the background, and you don’t hate it. 

you doing anything for christmas day? richie says. 

i’m working christmas, you lie.

seriously? tell your boss he’s fucking barbaric.

would if you could; you’ve already tried to say as much in your many texts, but it is what it is.

yeah, you say. bunch of fuckin jackoffs, right?

jagoffs, he says, over-enunciating, frustration immediate. he really is too easy and he knows it. you’re—

jackoffs, that’s what i said, that’s what you told me—

if you can’t do it right, don’t do it at all. he has to drive with his right hand so he can make chopping motions for emphasis with his left hand, because of course he does.

you say, jackoffs.

you’re killing me. 

and yet you go on surviving. you relent. got everything you need for ice fishing?

richie scoffs in disgust. yeah, but now carmy is trying to bail on me. 

if he’s not gonna say, typical, then neither are you.

he wants to work on the twenty-sixth, he says.

oof.

yeah. like a full planning session, go over the rest of the rollout schedule with the entire staff and like… he rubs his forehead. i don’t know. like we haven’t even gone to christmas yet and he’s already, fucking. i don’t know!

i mean.

he glances over at you briefly.

carmy wants to make the staff come in on the twenty-sixth just to go over the renovation schedule again?

he’s out of his fucking mind.

you already know what you want to say, but you have to double-check it in your own head to make sure you’re not overstepping. you don’t actually know these people.

but also, fuck it. 

you know, you say, you could tell him if he acts like this, syd’s gonna quit again.

he whistles. julie with the big guns.

how i’m built, you say.

yeah, i noticed, he says affectionately. it’s okay. i’ll figure it out.

i know you will. it’s kindness, and you mean it, and you don’t take it back. 

thanks, he says. 

you lean your forehead against the cold glass of the car door and watch chicago going by, all gold and black and white.

.

.

.

after a few minutes, he parks the car in an underground garage. 

you ready for this? this is gonna rock your world, he says. 

diamonds and rubies? you say, unbuckling your seat belt.

you’re gonna be fuckin crying.

diamonds and rubies and pearls?

.

.

.

at the door to his apartment, he says, close your eyes, hold out your hands, and wait here, so you do. when the door opens, you can smell whatever it was he made for his christmas eve dinner with eva. it smells like everything christmas eve should be, rich and homey. you could wait here for, say, half an hour. you could stretch this moment out. you wouldn’t mind.

okay, richie says. here.

when the gift touches your palm, you instinctively pull back. richie swears and catches it. 

it’s hot! you say as you open your eyes.

it’s soup, he says. you want it cold?

you look down. yeah, that’s definitely french onion soup, with a big white and brown patch of melted cheese and toast on top. it’s an echo of what you made him when he was sick. it’s him showing off his work in comparison to your two-ingredient version. it’s unfortunately perfect. there’s no way he knew that you haven’t had anything for dinner except skittles.

it smells like home.

here. you hand the bowl back to richie, but only so you can take off your coat and your shoes. 

there’s only one hook on the back of his door, so you hang your coat overtop his. as you move through his apartment, you take stock: the walls are still orange, but things are a little tidier and there are new drawings magnet-pinned to the fridge. eva’s going through a cat era, clearly. the kitchen lamp is as warm as before, and the cactus by the window has a small red ribbon on it, probably a nod to christmas. 

you sit down at the kitchen table on one of the foldable stools, and richie sets your spoon and bowl in front of you. there’s a half-empty bottle of coors on the countertop behind you, and you take a sip of that. he sits down on the chair to your left, so he’s in your peripheral. he’s next to you.

you can feel it coming.

um, you say.

he glances over, and you can feel that too. what’s up.

don’t be a dick, okay. you say it very low and very flat, not even angry, because angry wouldn’t cut it.

the pause is too long, but at least he finally says, okay.

you pick up your spoon and take the first sip. 

the bit of melted cheese hits first, warm and gooey and salty then the sweet savory richness of the broth, and yeah, okay. it’s happening. your eyes are wet.

you can feel him not saying anything about it, but before it can build up to torture, his phone rings. 

sorry, he says, getting up. it’s tiff.

he must know from the ringtone alone, but you’re not even mad at it, you’re relieved. saved by the bell, another bit of good luck. maybe christmas is real.

uh-huh, you can hear him saying. yeah. that’s— he laughs, and you know from that laugh alone it’s something about eva. yeah, put her on. a beat, then. hey, honey. no. no, she’s right. listen, santa won’t come if you spy on him. the guy likes his privacy, okay? he’s not in it for the applause, he’s not in it for the publicity. pause. well, that’s what the cookies are for. i am being serious, that’s what they’re for. okay. who—okay. he snorts. okay, you got me. don’t tell your mother, though, okay? she really enjoys it. pause. it’s up to you. okay, i gotta go. i love you. hey. i love you. 

that’s more than enough time for you to wipe your eyes on your sleeve, get all fucked up again listening to him, and wipe your eyes a second time. by the time richie sits back down, you’re basically normal.

that sounded like some saga, you say.

this jewish kid at school told all the christians that santa wasn’t real, he explains. and now she’s going around busting all the lying adults one by one. 

you laugh. 

they’re starting young, he says. when i was in school, they always used to make us wait until at least sixth grade before we could go around busting myths.

you’re jewish?

he shrugs. kinda sorta.

you see the opportunity to make another joke about him being zero percent italian, and you ignore it. did eva like the doll? you say instead. 

yeah. i mean, it was a huge hassle, it’s so expensive i had to go halves with tiff, and i nearly had a heart attack when eva said something about kirsten cause i thought i’d got the wrong one— he starts eating again, eating soup and talking, and you don't hate it. which by the way, swedes? have the most boring american history of them all, i don’t know why they’d make a doll about that, but anyways, yeah. she loved it. he reaches across you and takes his beer back so he can drink the last dregs of it. ever since the divorce, we don’t even call it christmas eve, we just call it christmas one and christmas two. as is tradition.

he says the last three words kind of weird. 

as is tradition? you repeat.

tiff and i, we don’t have a bunch of traditions from our parents, so it’s like. we make up a lot of stuff and then we say ‘as is tradition.’ cause it’s not.

i mean, you got two generations involved, so that counts.

eh, he says, drawing it out dubiously. 

i got two-generations traditions, you say.

you didn’t intend to talk about your family, you weren’t thinking about that at all, you were just thinking about richie. but now you gotta sit in the silence as he decides whether or not follow up about your parents.

finally, richie says, you got a kid? he’s doing his best to be cool about it, but his voice goes up a little crazy on the last word.

no, i mean—you’re laughing. i meant me and my dad.

oh, he says, maybe a bit relieved, definitely a bit something, you can’t quite place it. oh.

i used to make us mac and cheese for christmas. with a leaf on top, like lettuce or spinach or something. cause, you know, that makes it salad.

that’s cool, he says flatly. after a second, he adds, less flat, i don’t have any traditions with my dad. i mean, he’s dead, but like before then, we never. so i think that’s cool. 

you hate his dad. it’s a split-second decision, but you feel pretty confident about it.

two generations is all you need, you say. and you got eva. so it’s a tradition. 

heard, he says.

when you glance over, you see the chain catching the light, gold over his dark shirt. he looks at you. you both keep eating.

.

.

.

eventually, you finish off two bowls of soup and a hot chocolate too, courtesy of eva’s swiss miss unicorn package. you feel a bit subdued by the ordeal of being human, but relaxed. 

best christmas ever, you say.

really? richie says, like he believes it and feels bad for you.

god no, do you think i came out a dickens?

what the fuck is a dickens?

you’re illiterate, it’s okay. you look at him. you know that your eyes are a little red, but thankfully you can also see, reflected in his eyes, that he knows you're all right.

thank you, richie, you say. it’s all wrong, you shouldn’t be saying his name and you shouldn’t be saying thank you either, it’s thanks or nothing, but something about the formality feels a little heavier and therefore suited to the day. it’s getting late.

i’ll drive you? he says, and there’s a little extra question in it that you can’t bring yourself to consider. 

you shake your head and get up from the table heavily, feeling a thousand years old. i’m good. 

he gets up, follows you, stands there with his hands in shoved his pockets as you crouch to put on your shoes.

i wasn’t suggesting a sleepover, he says. 

no, of course not, you say, and you congratulate yourself on not making it sound bitter.

unless, richie says.

you look up at him. 

i have so many condoms, he says, deadpan. just. so fucking many. some of them are citrus flavored.

there he goes, saved it.

it’s not just tonight, is it? it’s not just tonight, it’s not just luck, it’s not just christmas; somehow, richie’s become…he’s figured it out, how to be with you. when to show up and when to let you go. not always, but more than enough, and he just. he wakes up and he struggles and he breaks shit and he irritates you and he calls eva and he watches youtube and he goes to bed and he wakes up and he struggles and he learns and you love him.

what a fucking time to find out. you look down and begin tying your shoes again.

you got pineapple flavor? you say.

in what world is pineapple citrus? richie says.

well, tough luck. you back up and turn around to put on your coat. for me, it’s pineapple condoms or nothing.

you’re a real high-maintenance fuck.

you laugh. michael used to like that about you, just how easy you were, or how easy you made yourself. buddy, you got no idea. 

it’s been such a long day for both of you, apart and together. of course you’re getting messy, of course it’s time to go. you zip up your coat, run your hand through your hair. 

let me drive you, he says again.

you wave him off. no, i need to walk. clear my head.

it’s december in chicago, fuckin pitch black— 

i’ll be fine.

it’s christmas eve, are you really gonna punish me for a fucking joke? he says, and you look up, startled; you didn’t know he was upset. in retrospect, you were just focusing on avoiding his eyes, so what did you expect?

i’m not punishing you for anything, you were great. richie. you look at him straight on and steady, so he understands. a little gentle, as gentle as you feel you can get away with. you truly have to go, and there’s no resentment in it. i just need to clear my head. i’ll be fine, i’m always fine. 

you never… richie trails off, eyes you, decides against finishing the sentence. you’re stubborn.

always. you give him a small smile. thanks for the soup.

goodnight.

that should be the end, but it feels unfinished. his blue eyes are alive to the possibilities when you reach out, but you just touch the chain with a fingertip where it rests over his collarbone. his right hand moves a little and you draw back, your other hand on the doorknob at once, already leaving.

.

.

.

two days later, the cops issue a warrant for your arrest. 

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[ next chapter ] [ masterlist ]

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@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @beingalive1, @eternallyvenus, @cerial-junkie, @jackierose902109, @shinebright2000, @scorpiolystoned — if anyone else wants to be tagged, let me know.

[livingfictional]

Hiya!!!

I just stumbled upon your blog, and you're match ups, I really like your content! :D I saw that your requests are open, and I thought I might as well request one! ^^

I would like to request a match up for COD and The Arcana. I am 19, female, and use she/they pronouns. I am also Pansexual (I don't have any gender preferences, we just gotta vibe and all is well✨️).

I really love listening to music and singing, I'm also an avid reader and have recently started down my path with practising witchcraft. I am not sure if this qualifies as a hobby, but I also enjoy taking my motorcycle out for a ride across the country whenever I have time (and money for gas 🥲). I do not do well in crowds or around loud and mentally draining people. Neither do I enjoy cooking because it, for some odd reason, drains me incredibly, baking on the other hand I enjoy thoroughly!

I speak English, German and Italian. My father is from Scotland🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 and my mother from Austria🇦🇹, I have an equally good connection with both sides of my relatives even though I am more in tune with my Austria side due to the fact that I grew up there.

I'm an INFP, I wouldn't call myself shy or skittish but I do struggle to build up relationships because of trust issues and fear of betrayal. I prefer a small circle of people around me, mostly calm and like minded people that know how to get me out of my shell. I'm also a big fan of animals and especially fond of dogs and cats (even though I'm allergic lol).

I hope that was enough info for a match-up! Have a wonderful day/night, Lily!✨️💜

Sorry you had to wait so long, thank you for your patience 🩵

I match you up with... Asra!

I genuinely think Asra would be the best choice for you.

Lazy mornings in the back of the shop. A mess of limbs tangled into the blankets as you slowly flip through the pages of your book.

Asra just lays there, watching your focused expression with a content smile. He could stare at you for hours. The shop won't run itself, though. Unfortunately.

He'll happily support your witchcraft journey, helping whenever possible. He grabs any and every book he thinks you might like.

Asra is one of the least draining people to be around, his company is always pleasurable. The atmosphere never feels heavy, and he can make the converation flow for hours on end. It always feels so natural and nice to be around him.

Might as well mention Faust, who fell in love with you just as Asra did. You can often find her perched up on your shoulders as you go about your day.

I match you up with... Soap!

Not an avid reader, doesn't always know what books to buy you. Just ask! He would buy the whole bookstore for you.

Johnny wants to spoil you, okay? He can be gone for long periods of time, and your books are the only thing keeping you company on cold winter evenings. So in his mind they are perfect gifts for you, might as well, with some help, get you one of those gift baskets with a fuzzy pair of socks, a blanket, some candy and books.

Before he has to leave, he will also take your bike and fill it up for you. Can't afford gas? Well, he can. Go for your ride sweetie :3

Slow evenings with him after he comes back from being deployed are the best. You guys are full after getting takeout from your favorite place, you've got a fire going in the fireplace and a random movie is playing on TV.

To be fair, you are not paying attention to it at all. You're brushing your fingers through his dark hair as he goes on about anything and everything.

Just as with Asra, conversations with Johnny are so natural to you, nothing ever feels forced. You guys can talk for hours and not get bored.

He can be more on the hyper side, but next to you, he can truly unwind. He will lie on top of you, placing his head over your heart.

[jstarr86]

Randomness in my head hope you enjoy. OC face claim will be Guilia

Italics are Japanese Bold Italic is Text

The best kept secret of NJPW. At least they had been until he left. Drawn like a moth to a flame it was a whirlwind of passion; at least it had been until he revealed he was leaving. He was going back to America and he couldn’t even give her a heads up. She didn’t find out until after his match during the post match interview when he’d dropped a bomb. Her water bottle hitting the floor as liquid poured out as she stood shocked but quickly cleaned up the mess pretending that she hadn’t heard the words he’d spoken. Later her phone rang half tempted to hit the fuck you button she instead did as she always had and swiped right accepting the call.

“What?”

“You free.”

“Mhmm.”

“You good Kaira.”

“I’m fine Tama. The door will be unlocked.” She said hanging up. She signed taking a quick shower and changing and laying across her bed. She heard the door open as he arrived and soon enough his frame was standing in the doorway of her bedroom.

“Sup beautiful.”

“You tell me.”

“What?”

“Where you gonna tell me your leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“When?” She questioned as he looked stuck making her chuckle bitterly.

“Yeah”

“ when on the flight back to America. Asshole.”

“I’m not an asshole.”

“Yeah you are.”

“Makaira.”

“What.”

“You forreal mad.”

“Nope don’t fucking care.”

“Yeah you do, otherwise you wouldn’t be this pissed.” She rolled her eyes the taller in her hardened face slightly breaking as he leaned over her pressing his soft lips into the back of her shoulder. His bronze skin contrast against hers.

“I’m still upset with you.”

“Why baby. I’m sorry”

“You could have told me instead of me finding out like that.”

“I know I’m sorry, just, I miss. I miss my kids Makaira they’re growing up without me.”

“And I understand that I’d never stand in your way but a heads up would’ve been nice.”

She slapped him lightly as the aggressively fucked. Never had sex between them been so passionate yet volatile; but nonetheless amazing. He smacked ass in response gently gripping her throat feeling the moan she tried to suppress causing him to smirk and flip them over tossing one of her legs over his shoulder as she responded loudly her head going back as his lips met her throat.

“When are you leaving?” She asked as they lay in bed his fingers trailing up and down her side.

“The end of next month.” She nodded not speaking no words to say, then again what could she really say. She knew it was over, that whatever the past few years had been was coming to an end a end she didn’t know what to feel about. His last night came faster than either had thought or liked for that matter.

Can I see you she looked at her phone as it dinged it was late she contemplated ignoring him saying no but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, he’d started to mean too much; more than she’d ever let him know.

You have your kid with you

He’s asleep and my brothers can watch him. Can I see you

Fine

“Welcome to the WWE Makaira.”

“Thank you.” Leaving the meeting she grabbed lunch and went back to her new home. A nice little two bedroom apartment in Orlando. The warm Florida sun a huge contrast. Perpetual summer not seasons like she’s been used to in Japan. Part of her missed home but she knew this was where she belonged. The past few months had been hard, he’d left and almost taken a piece of her with him. Harder he’d left a piece of himself, at least for a few a bit over a month. Something that had shocked and terrified her. But she didn’t get to enjoy it or hell even tell him. A mere week and a half after finding out she damn near collapsed in pain at home there was so much blood. She made it to the hospital only to find out she was losing the fetus the last piece of him.

Ironically after he’d left a few months later she had a call and offer from the same company. They’d even offered to wait for her, to finish out the few shows she’d signed for with other places. She’s finally lost her beloved NJPW women’s title to her friend Mercedes and she dropped her tag title. Thankfully shouldn’t have to see him at least not much. He’d been immediately sent to the main roster she on the other hand was going NXT. Then again that would be under Shawn Michaels one of if not ther favorite wrestler. She sighed packing.

She sighed packing her bags. Training had been ok training was going good, she got along well with generally everyone and she’d managed to evade him, easier done on different brands. She looked up when commotion started and her throat tightened as her stomach rose to her throat. He was here. He was beating up the tag teams in the ring leaving the back scrambling.

She quickly grabbed her things leaving she couldn’t face him. Why was he here why had they done this. God he looked beautiful and she couldn’t help her eyes trailing over his shredded frame. She shook her head clear of reminiscing of her hands trailing those defined muscles and abruptly left hands shaking as she desperately tried to get the right key as she made her way to her car she heard the doors burst open and their loud voices. She tossed her bags in her car the noise suddenly quieting and she made the mistake as she went to open her door if looking up and her eyes locked with his, her breath hitching.

“Makaira.” She didn’t hear him but she could read his lips and what he said. She quickly got in starting the car and only stopping slamming her breaks as he stood in the way leaving her no other choice but to stop because she wouldn’t run him over. Her eyes glanced to where his brother and his guess kinda cousin stood watching in confusion. “Open the door.” She shook her head waving her hand for him to move. He leaned over putting his hands on her hood “I’m getting in.”

“No.”

“Makaira Sakari Deschene.” Her eyes widened as he spoke angrily saying her full name. She saw his brothers eyebrow raise. “Jacob come here.” As he walked over he pointed. “Stay here so she can’t move.” He came to her door leaning down “unlock the door.”

“Go away.”

“Unlock the fucking door awee.” She paused as he spoke calling her baby but she was shocked not knowing he knew the word let alone the meaning. Her fathers native language. She looked at him trying to keep the hard look through the cracked window she was between a rock and a hard place clearly he wanted to talk and she didn’t really have a choice unless she wanted to commit vehicular manslaughter. She sighed angrily tossing the car in park and hitting unlock as he walked around the car and got in shutting the door. He rolled the window down sticking his head out. “I’ll hit y’all up later.” He then looked at her. “Drive.” She took a deep breath silently listening as Jacob moved and she drove off. The awkwardness filling the space.

“Where am I going?” She asked quietly soft voice barley above a whisper but she knew he heard her, his head turning towards her out of her peripheral was indication

“I fuck it your place or wait do you got a roommate?”

“No.” She drove home parking her car she felt him behind her as she walked. Goosebumps lining her pale skin that came with her mixed heritage. Half Japanese and half Native American. Her parents had met while her father had been stationed with the army in Japan.

“This looks nice.”

“Thanks.”

“How’ve you been.”

“What do you want?” She asked. She didn’t know what to feel, angry, sad, happy, nothing even looking at him was hard things he didn’t know that she couldn’t tell him, would never tell him.

“You left Japan.”

“So.”

“Didn’t ever see that one.”

“Yeah well pay good it’s WWE.” She replied her slight accent in her voice.

“I didn’t think you’d ever leave, especially you’re parents.”

“Speaking of parents how is yours.” She asked

“Good you?”

“Good.” She sighed looking at him “what do you want Tama.”

“I, I missed you.” She rolled her eyes. He hadn’t so much had called

“Missed, missed me.” She bitterly laughed as he looked a mix of annoyed and hurt. “You don’t miss me you miss body.”

“You were more than that.”

“Was I?” She asked “tell me what was then. Late nights sex stolen moments. The best secret no one knew of.”

“Hitori knew.”

“What?”

“He knew he called me out my last night, he knew for months.”

“So.”

“So nothing we had something.”

“Sex we had sex.”

“It was more than that and you know it.”

“Wherever Tama.” He abruptly stood mere inches from her as he reached out to touch her. Large warm hand gently meeting her check, his long fingers curling around the neck as his thumb softly rubbed her cheek.

“I missed you Kai.” He spoke softly but with conviction. Her eyes met his, looking briefly over his face his brown eyes pool of chocolate shed drunkenly told him one night they reminded her of chocolate chips while she munched on chocolate chip cookies making him laugh. The scar on his forehead. His soft thick lips with a perfect cupids how enough to make a any girl jealous. His long eyelashes shed once pranked him as he slept in exhaustion and put mascara on him he hadn’t been that happy after that the facial hair he’d dyed covering the grays that she’d liked. The salt and pepper creeping into his beard she’d found attractive.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“I don’t.” She barley whispered before his lips met hers. Passion igniting into an inferno as they tasted each other for the first time in months. She pulled away as hard as it was both their chest heaving. “I I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” He asked quietly his low voice sending shivers down her spine

“This I we can’t.”

“Why can’t we.”

“I’m ou know why.”

“No I don’t. We had something Makaira it was special.”

“It was a hidden secret for years.”

“Because that’s what we agreed on shit you didn’t think I didn’t wanna let people know, that I didn’t think about throwing it all out the window every time I saw you.”

“I-“

“If you believe that your fucking crazy.”

“I-“

“Please, let me love you.”

“You can’t love me, you have a life, you have kids.”

“I had a kid the whole time we was together pick a different excuse. After everything we’ve been thru Makaira.”

“I-.” He cut her off kissing her more passionately then she’d ever experienced and it took her breath away. She knew her resolve was cracking if anything he’d always been her weakness, since whatever this was started. “We live different lives now.”

“Nah we don’t we live in the same world.” He said pressing his lips to hers

“Different brand different schedule, I-“

“Stop the bullshit excuses.”

“I-“

“I think I love you.”

“No you don’t it’s just sex.”

“Because that’s what you want I want more I’ve been wanting more. Sex isn’t love love is seeing someone at their worst and still choosing to love them.”

“You haven’t seen my worst.”

“Than let me.”

“Tama- I.” He kissed her again slowly but surely short circuiting her brain “Everyone’s gonna think I only got hired for fucking you.”

“Man fuck what everyone thinks, you’re here because you’re one of the best and deserve it, no one even knew about the past few years and shit for a half year we wasn’t even together because of lockdown I was in Florida and you were still in Japan.” She grabbed his head bringing his tall frame down to hers their kiss heated as she ran her hands over his torso feeling his defined muscles before bring her hands back up sliding them over his shoulders and around his neck as their kiss heated up. She squealed in his mouth as he lifted her effortlessly into his arms blindly walking. Almost like he knew where to go as she felt the bed meet her back, for never being here he sure figured his way around fast.

“Oh my god” she moaned loudly. She’d forgotten how amazing he was when it came to intimacy.

“You gonna get a damn noise complaint.”

“Fuck the noise.” She gasped out “Tama” she cried out in pleasure clingling to him nails raking down his muscular back as he grunted in pain. Her hips moving involuntarily making him sink deeper as they chased a release and high they both didn’t know they’d missed.

“Ofa atu.”

“Ayoo’aniinishni.” She replied as they kissed while trying to regulate their breaths. He eventually moved off her pulling her small frame into his arms. “Now what?” She asked tracing the tattoo on his forearm. The intricate art fascinating her. She’d eventually gotten a tattoo hidden even from her parents a small sakura blossom on her hip, the only person to ever see it had been him.

“We make it work. W make it work.” He said kissing her head as he felt her breathe even out as she fell asleep. A small smirk gracing his face as he turned into her breathing in her scent as he let himself fall asleep.

Awee means baby in Navajo

Ofa atu means I love you in Tongan

Ayoo’aniinishni means I love you in Navajo

[0bsequi0us]

GooseBarbi HCs (nsfw and toxic obvi, it's Outlast) below the cut... I don't ship them in a "they love & cherish each other" sorta way but in a "they're using one another for their own selfish satisfaction until oh no oh shoot they accidentally formed a fucked up sort of bond what the fuck" sorta way 🥴

Usually I wouldn't post questionable low-effort shit on main but these two won't leave me the fuck alone & this ship is basically nonexistent soooo ✌️😔

Mother Gooseberry

The Futterman part of her personality acts partially as her self-preservation instinct, and as such is very wary of everything Franco does

She often flips between coy schoolgirl, strict disciplinarian and gentle maternal figure seemingly at random, but her unpredictable behavior is calculated

Pretends to be more naïve/clueless than she really is

Both the Futterman and Gooseberry personalities want to hurt Franco, though for somewhat different reasons. To Gooseberry it's a "game" or a "punishment", and to Futterman it's just out of contempt and sadism

Mother Gooseberry seems to have an inconsistent sense of sexuality-- sometimes she acts scandalized at the mere suggestion of sexuality, and sometimes she's the one making lewd remarks. Depends on her mood & what's convenient.

Service top tendencies. Franco has eagerly requested for her to sit on his face, but she doesn't allow it

Master manipulator (whether she realizes it or not)

Thinks Franco's nasty dirty little suit is very cute/handsome

Franco Barbi

Thinks he's a real romantic, or at least aspires to be. He's just really socially inept & has no self control

Actually intimidated by Gooseberry; didn't take her seriously at first but after a few life-or-death close calls he knows to begrudgingly respect her limits

...or at least he's learned how far he can go to activate her "sexy punishment" mode vs. her "actually gonna skin you alive" mode

Probably still trusts/underestimates her a liiiittle too much

Gets frustrated by how little she respects him, but also finds it really hot

Genuinely smitten. Thinks they have something special, that she "gets" him

Likes to hunt reagents alongside her... it's like the closest they get to a date. The sheer violence gets him excited, but also when she brutalizes reagents part of him is like "god I wish that were me"

After a point Franco just starts addressing Doctor Futterman as his own separate entity. Possibly started just to play along/humor her but eventually drawn into her madness

That freaky shit

Some MDLB shit DUHHH (& you know they're not even aware of proper kink etiquette)

choking spanking general manhandlinggggg

Gooseberry flips between going absolutely travis the chimp on Franco and gently kissing and tickling and cuddling and who's a good little baby sorta shit

She is selectively disapproving of his perversions, will not tolerate him pawing at her, but is like... clearly very into dominating him

Doctor Futterman is there. Always. Watching.

At first Franco just tolerates Futterman as a necessary evil, but eventually his cruel and abusive commentary fulfills the humiliation fantasy of being judged by a disapproving fatherly figure

Forcible tooth brushing 🥰

Franco thinks he found someone who matches his freak but quickly finds out that she actually gives him a run for his money... she's just more covert about it. Introduces him to types of humiliation play he never even considered

Idk if they're allowed to interact outside of Bambino type events but even if they are you know they're still doing that freaky shit in the middle of a trial

Both surprisingly physically affectionate, which grosses everyone out. Head pets, hand kisses, massages... innocent in any other context but ghoulish considering it's these two

I want her to kill him in a sex game gone right your honor

[purple-scrunchie]

Heathers Headcanons that live Rent-Free in my Head (Pt. 2)

Veronica:

Her birthday is October 29th (Winona Ryder's)

Ambidextrous

Has always been a huge nerd

Before Duke got her into classics, she liked sci-fi stuff like Ender's Game and Dune

Made Duke watch Spaceballs with her at some point (Their friendship has so much untaped potential-)

puts the milk before her cereal (This has made Chandler and Duke cry before)

Has a very noisy brain that refuses to shut up (iykyk), she turns to journaling to organize her thoughts and make sense of things

Often gets lost in her thoughts and forgets to pay attention to her surroundings

Has been known to pace around scribbling furiously in her journal for hours on end

Loves to pick up random things on the ground and keep them (She and Mac exchange shiny things, it's their friendship langauge)

Decent driver, if a little inattentive

Chandler:

Birthday is June 19 (Kim walker's)

Always wanted an older brother (someone who she could look up to & would protect her)

Cheats so hard at boardgames and card games

But never at croquet

So. Many. Freckles. Hides them with an inordinate amount of concealer (ik almost the entire fandom hcs this but I had to hop on the bandwagon too)

Refuses to go anywhere without a clear expectation of the situation

Or her planner and 12 color-coded pens

One time Heather and Heather threw her a surprise party for her birthday and she started sobbing because she thought it was an ambush

World's shittiest sense of smell (that's why she drank the drain cleaner, also she applies absurd amounts of perfume to compensate)

This also kinda affects her sense of taste. That's why she only likes BQ corn nuts, they have a flavor to her

Really likes flowers. She can't smell them well, but she thinks they're gorgeous. All her favorite perfumes are flower scents.

The one she uses most is lavender

Best driver of all the Heathers, which is saying something. This girl is a menace to the road. She goes like 90 in a 50mph zone and loves to run stopsigns/red lights

But she doesn't have road rage, it's honestly a little scary

Duke:

Birthday is April 12 (Shannon Doherty's)

Her favorite book is Catcher in the Rye (and Moby Dick ofc)

Veronica got her into scifi movies

Starwars and Spaceballs are now her guilty pleasure

She was named after some dead great-grandma she never met

her parents named her siblings Hunter and Hannah because they thought "ohho funny matching name children"

Only chews mint gum

doesn't go through as much as Mac, but will put like 2-3 pieces in her mouth at a time

Hums under her breath whenever she does little tasks like washing the dishes/doing her homework

When Gatsby hisses at her, she will hiss right back

Is much smilier around her cat than people

Worse driver than Chandler. Instead of running stop signs/red lights at 80MPH and nearly running people over, Duke swerves like crazy and flips people off through the window (To her the highway is a jigsaw puzzle)

Has somehow never gotten in an accident

She has horrendous road rage

McNamara:

Her birthday is December 3rd (Lisanne Falk's)

LOVE LOVE LOVES Madonna, her favorite song is "like a prayer"

Animal lover and devout vegetarian

also puts the milk before the cereal (this upsets Duke and Chandler less since they're so used to it)

way more observant than people give her credit for

Tries so hard, but just can't keep secrets

Hates lying. One of the only things she gets really mad about is when people lie to her

Has a million jingly key chains

Duke calls her "Macpie" because she loves to collect shiny things

Bonus points if it's shiny AND makes a noise (yes she is obsesed with those tiny jinglebells)

Loves to carry her friends with her cheerleader arms

Can jump freaky high

Coffee quite literally puts this girl to sleep

The worst driver of all the Heathers. She likes to think of road laws as 'guidelines'

JD:

Birthday is October 13th (Firday the 13th in his birth year)

Secretly a Canadian (French-Canadian specifically)

Speaks a little bit of French

He and Chandler argue in French all the time. It's how he brushes up on his conversational skills

Is even more of a cheater than Chandler

Favorite book is Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

His favorite Heather is Duke. He likes to talk books with her and respects her sharp sense of humor.

Plays the saxophone (this is technically canon but specifically alto sax in my head), his favorite genres are jazz and blues

We all know he'd listen to modern day emo music without an ounce of shame

And call the stoner kids posers

Compulsively sharpens the few pencils he doesn't lose. Like he writes two or three sentences and then makes it POINTY again

Can't choose between cherry slushies and coke slushies, so he mixes both and goes Cherry Coke

In my AUs where he dies, JD's grave is right next to his mom's

One of the safest drivers you'll ever meet, but likes to go fast on his motorcycle. He thinks he's such a bad boy for going 5 over the speed limit lol