#im using a paper plate as a fan

[shailion]

Every top level centerpoint energy employee deserves to be sealed in a metal box and left in the sun

[multixsposts]

This is the THIRD part of my wattpad series ‘One Night Stand’

this is a ‘My Hero Academia’ fan fiction!

this ship is ‘Dabi x Femreader’

please keep in mind that i do not own ‘My Hero Academia’ or its characters, but i do own this story and i don’t allow anyone to use it without my permission.

anywho.

please read on and enjoy.

-M

(reminder: this story is NOT for minors. 18 years or older please and thank you.)

It's been about two weeks since you hooked up with

dabi, and today you've been feeling awfully...ill? more nauseous than anything. You just thought it was something that you ate but since it's been like this for the past couple of days you think it might be something else.

But you didn't want to believe it.

So you chose to ignore it and continue to get ready.

You and your friend were going to go out to eat at this nice restaurant that just opened around the corner, when you finished getting ready you left your apartment after locking the door behind you.

Since the restaurant was close you decided it was fine to walk and it was beautiful outside today so that was an extra plus. You make it to the newly open restaurant and get you and friend a table.

The hostess walks you to the table and you take a seat, getting on your phone as you wait for your friend to arrive.

"im here im here" you hear the familiar voice of your friend say in a rushed tone.

"im so sorry im late" she apologizes as she takes the seat in front of you. Honestly you didnt even realize she was late, but it's not like it was surprising. She's never on time to anything.

"eh..it's okay i was busy playing a game on my phone anyways." you tell her as you put your phone away and look at her scan the menu.

"so any new hook ups lately?" she questions if you didn't know her, her bluntness would have left you stunned but you've been friends for a decade, so you were used to this.

"nope, just that one. also i think im done with that stuff" you explained and she looks up at you.

"oh really?. that's new of you." she says with a little laugh following after.

You shrug with a sigh "i know but..it just get boring after a while you know? plus i've been feeling a little sick lately." you tell her and she smiles a bit.

"yeah i get that. I hope you feel better though.." she says and you smile back at her, when the waitress comes to see if you two are ready to order you look back at your menu to read what you wanted and your friend did the same.

You two chat for a while as you wait for the food.

"oou! this looks good." your friend says as the waitress puts her plate down it front of her.

"thank you" you say politely when yours was placed infront of you.

"enjoy." the lady tells you with a wide smile as she leaves you and your friend to eat your food.

you hear your friend make a moaning noise as she takes a big bite of her food.

"this might be my new favorite place. This is so fucking good." she says with her mouth half full.

You laugh as you shake your head, picking up your fork you go to take a bite. Ignoring the way your stomach turned at the smell of the food in front of you.

You take a bite and swallow it..while it was good you stood up in a hurry your chair screeching along the floor.

"are you okay" your friend asks, slightly worried at your sudden movements.

you nod. "i need to go to the bathroom" your words rushed as your hand flies to your mouth, vomit threatening to spill out all over the floor.

"o-okay" she says as she stand up and walks over to you quickly and helps you to the bathroom. once you make it you immediately go into a stall not even caring to lock the door behind you, you and throw up everything you ate today, which wasn't much.

"..how long have you been feeling sick?" you friend asks as she holds you hair and rubs you back soothingly.

"for about four days.." you tell her as you cough a bit and wipe your mouth with the toilet paper next to you.

"um.." she clears her throat. "have you been feeling anything else besides being nauseous?" she asks and you look up at her and shake your head.

"just very tired...but that's normal when you feel sick right?" you ask and she sighs..

"maybe we should get you home.." you nod in agreement as she helps you stand up.

"i'm sorry i ruined our lunch date" you tell her and pats your back. "You didn't ruin it, don't say that. We can have another one" "...just not sushi.." she mumbles the last part, so you couldn't hear her.

"hm? what did you say?" you ask as you two leave the bathroom.

"oh nothing! let me pay and i'll meet you in the car okay?" she says sweetly and hands you her car keys, she walks away before you got to tell her you could pay for your uneaten food knowing she wouldn't let you do that anyways.

You sigh and make your way outside unlocking her car doors and sliding into the passenger seat. You lean the seat back just a little and close your eyes. It's so weird how you were fine and then all of a sudden the food you've been looking forward to made you so sick. The car door opens and your friend gets in and starts the car.

"i need to make a quick stop before i drop you off, that okay?" she asks while you buckle yourself in and she does the same.

you didn't say anything just nodded and she started driving.

"i'm not taking this." you tell your friend with a stern look. She took it upon herself to go to the store and buy a pregnancy test, and now you two were sitting in your bathroom while she's trying to convince you to take it.

"look all you have to do is pee on it and we wait about five-" you roll your eyes "i know how it works" you say and snatch it from her.

"i'm not even pregnant! i just have like...food poisoning or something" you grumbled out and she crosses her arms over her chest and gives you the 'don't bullshit me' look.

"yeah if food poisoning was a baby cause that's what you got."

"it's not possible because we used protection!" you tell her, starting to feel a bit frustrated.

"hey..it could have broke or something you never know." she tells you as she hold her hand up in defense.

"just take it so we know for sure. it can't hurt." you sigh as you look at the stick in your hands.

"fine." you huffed out and pulled down your pants to sit on the toilet, but before you go to pee on it you look up at your friend to see her staring at you.

"can you turn around!" you yell at her and she squeaks out a "sorry" before she turns around.

after you do your business you pull up your pants and wash your hands.

"now we wait" you tell her as you stare at the test..what if you actually were pregnant? would you keep it ? would you get rid of it? it's not like you couldn't afford to have a child but could your mental state deal with it?

fuck..

dabi...i'd have to tell him. god. what would he say? would he even help out with it? would he even want to be around the kid? you don't even know anything about him! this is fucking insane.

"y/n.." you hear the hushed tone of your friends voice and you look at her to see her holding the test in her hands.

have you really been thinking about the what if's situation that long?

"what?..what does it say?" you ask and she turns it over and shows it to you.

your eyes widen as you stare at the little screen on the stick.

"holy...fuck.."

thank you for reading my story i would greatly appreciate it if you reblogged it and voted for it on ‘Wattpad’.!

please remember ‘Wattpad’ gets the first uploads and Chapter five has been uploaded today!.

i hope you enjoyed this story just as much as i did writing it.

-M

[therealprismcat]

Top 5 rpgmaker games, Go!

(can be as mainstream or obscure as you like)

OOH I LOVE RPGMAKER GAMES!! I’m gonna make a whole ranking for these :3

(Honourable mention to paper lily rn, because I already know it’s not made with rpgmaker even if u weren’t referring to the specific engines used, but yeah!! I love paper lily!!!!)

5. It’s not me it’s my basement

It’s a short rpgmaker game about a kid who has a monster in their basement!!

4. Aconite

I had to go searching for it because I hadn’t played it in around a year and forgot what it was called- but it’s about a kid who tries to befriend his entire class and later his school, but it gets complicated. When I played it, it only had one day to play. There might be more to it, but it still says beta so likely not

3. Flesh, blood and concrete

It’s a game where you explore a creepy abandoned apartment. I wasn’t really expecting much when I played it, but it’s really interesting and I love the lore!! It’s also pretty short, and easy to play.

2. Pocket mirror

A game where you play as a girl who doesn’t remember anything, not even her own name. This one’s a lot longer, I don’t remember how long it took me to finish it though. There’s also a remake for it and a prequel (which I don’t know if it’s out yet?) But I’ve played neither. The remake is probably a lot less buggy, but the classic one is free.

1. Dead plate

MY CURRENT HYPERFIXAITON IM LOSING MY MIND OVER THIS GAME. my friends have unwillingly been subjected to it. It’s a tycoon themed horror game where you play as a waiter trying to earn enough money at a fancy bistro in order to win his ex girlfriend back!! If you’ve seen any of the fan content for this game you’d think it was a BL. ITS NOT. DONT TRUST THE FANDOM.

anyway yeah!! These r just my favs, check them out if you want!!

[tongue-ttied]

my avatrice headcanons because they’re adorable pt.2:

(also im sorry to all of you that i hurt with the last headcanon on my last one, unnecessarily sad)

-Ava’s a huge fan of taylor swift

-Beatrice is more of a pheobe bridgers fan / and a big fan of instrumental

-Ava would marry Bea with paper rings

-Beatrice listens to Taylor Swift when Ava isn’t around / they share a spotify account so Ava totally knows

-Bea won’t go out with Ava on a night out but still tells her to go have fun / Ava always leaves early cause she just wants to go home to Bea

-Ava flirts really hard with Beatrice when she’s been drinking and it gets Bea all flustered

-Ava is oblivious to everyone flirting with her when she bartends because she only has eyes for Beatrice

-they bake cookies together and Ava eats all the raw dough and Bea tells her she’s gonna make herself sick (which she always does)

-Ava hates her birthday because she was always alone / she forgot about it this year

(canonly in s1 e4 Sister Francis says Ava will age out in a month so that means Ava turned 20 while in hiding. s2 is two months after s1 but Ava said that Bea and her had only been at the bar a month so either they have only been in the Alps for 1 month or they’ve been there for 2 and but worked at the bar for 1?? / im thinking too hard about this)

my head canon is they’ve been in the Alps for two months but only worked at the bar for one please tell me if i’m wrong

-Ava let it slip that her birthday passed and Bea was sad she didn’t tell her about it / Bea then baked a cake, bought her a gift, made her a card and cooked her a nice dinner to make up for it / it was the best birthday Ava has ever had

-Beatrice thinks she’d be a terrible mother because of her own relationship with her family/ Ava KNOWS Beatrice would make an amazing mother

-Beatrice taught Ava german

-the few times Beatrice has fallen asleep reading on the couch she’s woken up to Ava asleep on top of her like a weighted blanket

-Ava has a tendency to get changed right in front of Beatrice because she really doesn’t grasp the concept of privacy around her / “we’re best friends Bea who cares if you see me in my bra!”

-Beatrice gives Ava piggyback rides when Ava claims to be “too tired” after training

-Ava likes to study all of the lines, scars and callouses on Beatrice’s hands and Bea just lets her / Ava knows all the stories of all the scars she’s ever seen on Beatrice

-Ava definitely calls Beatrice by other pet names / she’s definitely let ‘Babe’ slip a few times and played it off

-Beatrice likes to run her fingers through Ava’s hair when Ava rests her head in her lap while she reads

-Hans thinks they’re dating / that’s what the ‘glance’ was about he thought they were having a couples argument

-the pretty girl at the bar whispered to Bea “she’s been watching us the whole time, now she knows she’s not the only friend in the world”

-Ava always holds Bea’s hand or links their arms when walking around town so she “doesn’t get lost”

-The day that Ava had fallen and basically died, Beatrice held her so tightly the entire night and couldn’t sleep, she just had to make sure Ava was breathing the whole time, reminding herself that she was okay, that Ava was alive

-Ava eats off of Beatrice’s plate even if they’re having the same food

-Ava mimics Beatrice’s British accent sometimes / asks her to pronounce long or funny words just to hear how she says them

-Beatrice keeps buying new socks because Ava keeps loosing them / she’s a barefoot around the house kind of girl

-Ava is also a floor girl

-Beatrice is a morning person who likes to do long stretches, Ava is a night owl who likes to sit on their fire escape and look out at the town

-they’ve spent countless nights staying up until the sunrise just talking about anything and everything

-even though Ava can levitate she always asks Beatrice to grab things that are too high for her

[yoinkschief]

im worried were blinded by the waiting 9 years for this movie of it all and were gonna rewatch it sometime for [REDACTED] and itll be not as good as it was today

Not at all I swear this movie was genuinely super good

Teeny tiny spoiler warning:

I see a lot of people shitting on the scene with Abby and the animatronics building a fort together but I think it's super fucking crucial to have that in there

Not only does it serve at a scene to get Mike to eventually take the offer, showing him them that "oh we're not so bad ! Look at us ! We're friendly and we'll take good care of Abby because we're kids like her :3" which I think does give him a reason to say yes at first before instantly regretting it, realizing that in fact he's the only one who should protect her, because he's finally realizing you can't have it both ways and not wanting to fuck up the only chance he has of any sort of "redemption", but also because THEY'RE KIDS

In the games it's not really explored all that much that there are CHILDREN in those suits because, well, it wasn't important in the game until I'd say FNaF 3 (that's when I think Scott actually started caring about the lore) so he kinda blocked himself off from being able to actually explore that, hence the books

But even then I don't think it was fully explored that they never really grew up, that they're still just kids even after the twenty years they were stuck in those suits, which we never get to see explored as much as it is in the movie, explaining that they ARE STILL KIDS, still wanting to have fun

Also I hear criticism about the drawings aspect

NO

GENIUS

MAKES SENSE CAUSE AS A KID WHO WAS VERY DRAWN TO DRAWING THEY'RE SO REAL FOR THAT

Creative outlets such as drawing, writing, painting, etc. Any sort of artistic medium is an outlet of ones self, as that's what makes it art

And it's a running theme throughout the entire franchise of fan art, I mean it never was a really big thing until the movie, but it still sells because it was always there:

The paper plate puppets, the crude drawings, it's all apart of the fact it's a KID'S ENTERTAINMENT PLACE

Think of Chuck E. Cheese's, they get tons of fanart from kids because they love Chuck E. Cheese, they love the little rat guy so they draw to show their appreciation, they write kind letters, etc.

The biggest criticism is about how the drawing change at the end was stupid and while I can say it seems cheesy, think of it this way:

This truly is the only way that they know how to communicate

They can't talk, at least no one but that fucking blonde kid but I'm not getting into him right now

And they were kids when they were murdered, for all they knew, Spring Bonnie just wanted to get a picture with them that they could show their parents, or was just trying to help them find their parents now that they were lost, they couldn't possibly understand what was happening

Until Abby drew that picture and showed them that he was holding a bloody knife - they say what happened to Vanessa and I'm sure they're aware of what murder is after what they did to protect themselves when they felt threatened, they just never thought that Spring Bonnie, their beloved hero, would ever do that to them

Again, until Abby brought that to life

Also Matthew Lillard's performance trumps all criticism holy SHIT

[byleriscanon713by]

Will byers

lighter (especially the Lana del Rey ones)

no but I wish I did

megladons (maybe still living)

hazel (green when I wear light clothing)

do what?

Scrunchies

none surprisingly

cold coffee

no I don’t have the heart

singing

Sunny with a light cloud covering

i ate lunch at like 1 o’clock and I had a tiny crunch bar at like 4:30

YES

no

very well

i can’t see sh*t

shampoo and conditioner <3

im not that good at doing it on myself but I’m pretty good at doing it on others so ofc

soda

my teddy bear

I’m a perfectionist

IM ADDICTED TO IT

stargazing and talking about really deep things but also taking moments to laugh and be stupid

Perfume

a really nice hug

eight

not anymore but I used to

scalding

there was a paper plate but I threw it away!!!

taylor swift but honestly just really emotional music with powerful bridges

yep

my girlfriend and I went to horror nights. it was my sixth time and her second just this year but it’s always an adventure.

many songs but one I could recite under any circumstance would be all too well (ten minute version) by Taylor swift

EST

two on tumblr

my friend lauren

any manly scent

occasionally

a small crunch bar lol

im not a coffee person

pinterest

i love spicy food because it tastes SOOOO GOOD but I like can’t eat it cuz of my stupid taste buds

I wouldn’t kill anyone irl but fictional character wise I’d kill eleven from stranger things cuz her character annoys me (sorry)

yes

horror movies for Halloween. I’m not a fan of Christmas movies (although I love Elf)

“did u email the stuff?” and before that cuz I just sent that message while checking what the last message I sent was “that sounds like some code name for illegal movie pirating”

way too young I was like 9 and I had a sip of wine

i wish

sure

here’s weirder asks

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

lighter or matches?

do you leave the window open at night?

which cryptyd being do you believe in?

what color are your eyes?

why did you do that?

hair-ties or scrunchies?

how many water bottles are in your room right now?

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

would you slaughter the rich?

favorite extracurricular activity?

what kind of day is it?

when was the last time you ate?

do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

can you drive?

are you farsighted or nearsighted?

what hair products do you use?

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

do you say soda or pop?

something you’ve kept since childhood?

what type of person are you?

how do you feel about chilly weather?

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

perfume/body spray or lotion?

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

about how many hours of sleep did you get?

do you wear a mask?

how do you like your shower water?

is there dishes in your room?

what type of music keeps you grounded?

do you have a favorite towel?

the last adventure you’ve been on?

is there a song you know every word to by heart?

what’s your timezone?

how many times have you changed your url?

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

a soap bar that smells good?

do you use lip balm?

did you have any snacks today?

how do you take your coffee?

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

what’s your take on spicy foods?

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

can you remember what happened yesterday?

favorite holiday film?

what was the last message you sent?

when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

can you skip rocks?

can i tag you in random stuff?

[robins-egg-bindery]

The Family Hale, an anthology by @morgan-leigh

"Bodies – those are something you understand, mostly; you know immediately exactly how much smaller he is than the last time you saw him. Too skinny, too pale; his cheeks cave in a little too much, from his face. He’s a shadow of something: he looks like the dead walking. His hands are stuffed down in the pockets of his hoodie and he looks tentative but not afraid."

Derek Hale used to have a family. Now, he's got a teenage human more trouble than he's worth. Post-S2.

fic by @morgan-leigh

260 pages / 82,407 words

Title Font: Tweaky

Body Fonts: Bembo, Special Elite, IM Fell English,

More on the process below the cut!

So this fic was one of the first ones I put on my list to bind when I first started, and it's taken me until now to feel like I was skilled enough to pull it off! This fic is one of those that sticks with you; it's a second-person POV character piece series, one on Derek, one on Stiles, and it affected so many people in such a deep way that the author then proceeded to write a third piece, about an original character from the first two (Patrick, my beloved...)

This was the first fic I read, I think, that really made me feel the loss of the Hale family, the first fic to humanize Derek's tragedy in such a tangible way. It's made even better by the fact that they're not perfect; that Derek's father is angry, his siblings acting naturally as siblings, who fight and bicker and love in equal measure before their young lives are cut so heinously short.

I don't read second person very often, but the way this series is written is just so endlessly perfect. When I contacted the author about sending a gift copy, neither of us could believe it had been 10 years since she'd written the first one, this boy, half-destroyed. A DECADE! Just goes to show that fan fiction can and will stick with you, ten, twenty, and many more years down the road.

Anyway, I saw the triskelion paper and knew I had to use it for this fic. The cover paper was a challenge, as I had several different options, but in the end I went for simplicity; one paper, with gold accents and a title plate. The typeset itself is also fairly simple, but cohesive I think in it's design across the three fics in the anthology.

I hope that you enjoy it, Morgan! Your fic is a masterpiece and it deserves the best binding it can have. Much love from me <3 May your words live 10 more years, and 10 more, and 10 more!

[captains-simp]

Can I get a request where Yelena's dating R and has been for a while because things are going great but Natasha (being the protective big sister she is) realllllyyyy doesn't like R and R keeps making things worse because Nat intimidates her and all bdaksnakwk😭 and she finally accepts R when she gets caught up in a mission somehow and almost dies for Yelena🥺

Nat simps: Nat doesn't like the relationship because she's jealous

Me: n-no

Nat simps: she actually loves R😃

Me: guys no-

Nat simps: but-

Me: N O

(You guys are getting a big Natasha fic after this, calm your tits🙄)

3.6k words

Warnings: graphic injury description, implied torture and murder

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"My sister does not hate you." Yelena chuckled as she opened the car door and stepped out. You stayed put for a second, staring up at the Avenger's tower as you chewed your lower lip.

"She definitely does." You mumbled as you stepped out of the car yourself. Yelena held her hand out for you to take, marginally helping your nerves when she gave it a reassuring squeeze. She noticed your silence and tried again.

"Okay maybe she's not your biggest fan right now but she'll warm up to you. I did." The blonde winked. You bit back a smile and rolled your eyes. "The others sure as hell love you." You hummed in response, you couldn't argue with that. You got on with the other heroes like a house on fire. "And I love you." Yelena said earnestly as you stopped outside the main door for your girlfriend to plant a soft, quick, kiss on your lips.

"I love you too." You said with a smile.

"There she is." She grinned back as she stroked your cheek with her index finger. "Now come on, I'm starving."

"You ate that bag of M&Ms in the car." You laughed as Yelena led you through the building. The blonde scoffed.

"They only half fill them, y/n." She complained. "So it was half a bag." It was hard to argue with that logic. 

You made your way through to the top floor of the building, all while holding onto the expensive wine bottle you bought. Your hands were sweating so much so you held onto the bottle with both hands, not trusting your grip. The last thing you needed was to smash it on any of Tony's expensive carpets. You were met with a round of laughter when the elevator doors opened, presenting the Avengers all sat around the living area. Their eyes turned to you and Yelena with wide smiles and they all shouted hellos across the room. Wanda gave you a warm hug as Yelena high fived Bucky and you felt your nerves soften. 

"She's just finishing up." Wanda said knowingly. You wondered for a brief second if she had taken a peek into your mind but when you looked at the redhead she was smiling reassuringly at you and you realized it must have been obvious that you were anxious to see her again. Unlike Yelena, everyone else could tell you were Natasha's least favourite person. "For what it's worth she seems to be in a pretty good mood tonight." Wanda assured.

"Whose in a pretty good mood tonight?" Came the voice you had been dreading to hear. Natasha strolled into the living room with a content smile on her face but halted in her tracks once she saw you. You locked eyes for longer than you were comfortable with but you were determined not to look away. Sometimes you thought that if you asserted yourself more then maybe Natasha would at least respect you. Today wasn't the day for that because you looked away quicker than you would have hoped to. In your defence, it was really hard to maintain eye contact with the Black Widow. 

"What's she doing here?" Natasha spat. Oh. You winced as you rubbed the back of your neck, clearly the Russian wasn't aware that you were attending the dinner too. 

"I told you she was coming." Yelena said as she strolled towards her sister and gave her a bear hug. Natasha continued to glare at you from over her sister's shoulder. 

"I thought you were meant to be on a mission."

"Luckily it was over by lunch." You smiled weakly. "Meant there was still brownie left in the cafeteria." You laughed awkwardly but Natasha didn't respond. 

"If you want, I could give you the recipe for my brownies." Wanda said in an attempt to ease the overwhelming tension in the room. The Sokovian was always the best at that and you were sure it was entirely down to her calm demeanour.

"Really?" You asked hopefully as you all made your way to the dinner table. You avoided Natasha's eyes the whole time but consequently ended up taking a seat opposite her. You froze when you sat down, already under her heated gaze once again. You gulped thickly and turned to Yelena while you tried to ignore the pair of emerald eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

The rest of the dinner wasn't altogether awkward but it wasn't the most comfortable you'd ever been. Natasha didn't acknowledge you, though it was rare that she did, and you both engaged in separate conversations with the rest of the team. You had never known if there was a particular reason the redhead didn't like you. You guessed it was down to her being protective of her little sister, something you could understand given all they had been through. But you would never hurt your girlfriend, in fact you would do anything to avoid that. So it bothered you that there was nothing you could do to sway Natasha's opinion of you, because you had literally tried everything. You had been dating her sister for six months. Surely if she was going to accept you it would have happened already. 

When dinner was finished Natasha excused herself as Yelena picked up some plates and took them to the kitchen. You were hooked on a story Sam was telling when they left, both your elbows on the table as your face rested in your hands, eagerly waiting for Sam to reveal how he was able to escape a whole squadron of planes with a malfunctioning suit. As a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, you didn’t get to experience half the things the Avengers did. Sure, you had had some crazy missions and your fair share of close calls, but their stories always won. 

Once Sam dramatically finished his story with some over the top sound effects, you noticed Yelena had missed a few plates and still wasn’t back. With the dishes in your hands, you made your way to the kitchen, soon hearing the strong accent of your girlfriend. “You're being unfair.” She scolded with a hushed aggression. 

“I’m trying to protect you, Lena.” Natasha’s voice fired back. Your ears pricked up at the verb and you were unsure of whether or not to leave the plates on a near table and go or stay to hear about the apparent threat your girlfriend was facing. “She’s going to get herself killed.”

“Oh and you’ve never done something reckless?” Reckless. That was a word you had seen in your S.H.I.E.L.D assessment reports enough times to get a vague idea of who the pair were talking about. Natasha being on the opposing side proved the point more. “When will you drop this?”

“You couldn’t have just dated a normal civilian? Or at least an agent that manages to not get themselves in harm's way on the way to the paper copier.” Well that was hardly accurate. S.H.I.E.L.D didn’t use paper copiers. 

“You know maybe if you spent less time being a bitch to her and more time actually getting to know her you would understand why I love her.” Yelena said in a more disappointed tone, most of the frustration drained away from exhaustion. You wondered how long they had been talking about this. Or if they had before. Yelena always acted like there wasn’t any tension between you and her sister. Maybe she thought if she ignored it things would sort themselves out. 

There was a heavy silence over the room so with a pang of guilt, you stepped out from behind the wall with the plates still in your hands, fauxing mild surprise when you saw them both, like you didn’t even know they were still there. If they saw through your act, they didn’t say anything. “Thanks, just put them there.” The blonde smiled and pointed at the counter near her. Natasha stayed silent as she watched you from the other side of the room. It always felt like she was studying you for any sign of a weakness when she looked at you, waiting to spot something she could use to strike. 

“You need a hand?” You asked as you spied the excessive bubbles in the sink that coaxed your girlfriend’s forearms. “Before you break something.” You joked and watched as Yelena’s cheeks tinted pink as she remembered the shattered glass in the bin at home. 

“She’s capable.” Natasha interrupted with stone cold glare. 

“That’s okay, detka (babe).” Yelena mumbled and kissed your cheek. “I’m just finishing up.” She said before looking briefly at her sister. “Then we’re going.”

*

To no surprise of your own, Natasha didn’t get any friendly towards you after what you could only assume wasn’t the first discussion the sister’s had had about you. In fact it got considerably worse; not straight away though, that came a few weeks after when the pair came rushing into the cafeteria. Yelena marched in the room with her eyes set on you as the redhead followed by her side, exclaiming something wildly with her hands. 

“This is insane. Yelena!” Unfortunately for Natasha, her sister’s stubbornness fiercely rivaled her own. 

“Hey, detka.” Yelena smiled as she sat down on the seat in front of you. You gave a small wave as you finished chewing your sandwich, eyeing the pair cautiously. Natasha continued to stand with her arms crossed, mumbling under her breath in Russian. “You busy now?” 

“Not really.” You shrugged and brushed the crumbs off your hands.

“Yelena, no.”

“Zamolchi (shut up)!” The blonde fired back. “That’s great,I could really use a hand on a mission.”

“I will go with you.” Natasha insisted but Yelena shooed her away distractedly. “They know who you are, it won’t work.” She hissed.

“That’s why disguises exist!” Natasha yelled, gaining the attention of every other S.H.I.E.L.D agent in the room. 

“It won’t work.” Your girlfriend said firmly, her choice was already made and set in stone. 

“Okay.” You shrugged and immediately fell under Natasha’s most heated glare. 

“Don’t you dare.” She gritted. “There are thousands of agents in this base alone and you’re picking the single most reckless one who will get you killed.” The redhead continued but Yelena, unlike you, wasn’t fazed. 

“Great, go pack your stuff.” Yelena cheered.

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t fucking move.” Your body betrayed you, keeping you glued to your seat in fear of what method, of the hundreds the widow knew, she would choose to kill you if you stood up. 

“I don’t trust anyone else to do this.” Yelena said earnestly to her sister. Natasha considered her sister carefully but still looked unconvinced when her younger sister gave a frustrated huff and took you by the hand to drag you to your feet and past her sister who surprisingly didn’t follow after you both. 

As your girlfriend led you down the halls she explained the basis of the mission, telling you how you were to set up a last minute buy with a high profile weapons smuggler. Annoyingly, that was how he worked, telling buyers the location and time of a deal at the last minute. Beneficially, he was a smug prick who only believed in carrying out deals on his own. While he would be armed, there would be no one else with him, making yours and Yelena’s job easier. Yelena was the sniper, shooting to kill. S.H.I.E.L.D had tried apprehending the guy alive but it always ended in casualties and they were finally done with going easy. 

You considered it all when you were changing into the outfit Yelena had given you, planning what exactly you could say to the dealer to get him to the specific part of the warehouse that Yelena could shoot at. You were buttoning up your white blouse when the door swung open and Natasha stepped through. “You sure you can handle this?” She asked right off the bat. 

“I’ve been through my training just like everyone else here, Natasha. I know you don’t think I’m capable but I’ve been on my fair share of missions and I know protocol and-”

“Just keep her safe.” The Russian said. You blinked and opened your mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words.

“I don’t care if Baros comes out of there in a body bag or in a limo.” You blinked again and continued with your shirt as you decided to just listen to Natasha. “But if one hair on Yelena’s head is harmed I will make you live to regret it for the remainder of your long and very painful days.” She said darkly and you could only nod dumbly. Natasha studied you for a long moment before turning around to head out of the room far less dramatically as she had entered. 

“She trusts me for a reason.” You couldn’t help but call out as the redhead opened the door. She glanced at you for a second and left as she called over her shoulder to you. 

“I don’t.”

*

“Do you want to get take out tonight? I was thinking that new Chinese place around the corner.” Yelena spoke clearly but she might as well have been thinking aloud because you couldn’t respond. She knew that of course. She knew that you speaking would ruin your cover if Baros had cameras set up around you. “So that’s a yes on the Chinese?” She continued. Okay she was definitely doing it because she knew you couldn’t respond. “Detka there’s no need for you to insist on paying. I owe you one right now.” You bit back a smile until the warehouse doors opened and Baros stepped through, watching you eagerly. 

“So nice of you to join me.” You deadpanned. You couldn’t help it. The guy literally chose the time and he was still half an hour late.

“Yes, my apologies.” Baros said in a very unapologetic tone. “Something came up.” He muttered as he placed a large box on the table and unlocked it with an 8 digit code although you were sure there was a lot more to it than that. Not that you cared about his weapons right now. “Now I hear I have something you’re interested in.” 

With that, the sale began. At first you thought you were in luck. Baros made a habit of strolling around the room as he explained various weapons that you pretended to be interested in, but he never went to the spot Yelena could shoot. It became irritating very quickly. You walked around too in an attempt to lead him to wear you needed him but he always backed off at the last second. You heard Yelena groan into the earpiece a few times too. 

“Is there anything here that’s of interest to you? Or are you more concerned with listening to whoever’s on the other end of that earpiece?” Your eyes snapped to Baros as he watched you curiously. “Where is she?” He asked coldly. Your earpiece wasn’t meant to be visible and the thought that Baros had found a way to get around S.H.I.E.L.D’s technology concerned you greatly. 

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, I’m here alone.” You swallowed thickly. Baros gave a throaty laugh in response, some primal hunting impulse starting up. 

“I’ve killed every S.H.I.E.L.D agent that has come after me, you and your friend will be no different. Now where is she?”

You wanted to charge at Baros. To knock him to the ground and wrap your hands tightly around his throat and squeeze long and tight enough to make him regret ever threatening your girlfriend. Except you couldn’t move. It wasn’t a fear induced freeze up like you had gotten from Natasha’s glares a few times. There was a much larger and more dangerous obstacle that stopped you moving. Something toxic. Baros gave another manic laugh as he watched that realisation dawn on you. But really, what was panicking you most was that Yelena had been silent for a long time. 

“You see, Agent l/n, while you were trying your hardest to get me to play your game, I was beating you at my own. I’ve grown immune to the toxin that’s been circulating the room since your arrival.” You trembled as you dropped to your knees and fell onto your side, only able to watch and listen. “And what your friend sees is a mere projection of us continuing business, audio included of course, so she won’t be coming to get you anytime soon.” You exhaled as heavily as you could in relief at the knowledge that Yelena was safe.

“Now where were we?” Baros asked as he knelt down besides you and lifted your head up, placing the flat of a blade against your cheek. “Oh yes, you were just about to tell me about the other one.”

“Go...to...hell.” You grimace, every word spoken feeling like one of the hardest things you had ever done. 

“I’m sure you’ll feel as though you’re there very shortly.” He muttered as the knife very slowly started to dig into your skin.

*

You had no idea how long you were with Baros, how long since he had first started slicing your skin, how long your bones had been broken or even how long since you had first started to cough up blood, most of it staying in your mouth because of your weak diaphragm. You had exceeded your limit long ago, only using your energy to make the occasional snarky comment that made the next attack harsher. You couldn’t seem to stop yourself. It made you feel like you had some control, as did the fact that you never said a word about Yelena.

A gargled scream was ripped from you when Baros pressed the burning hot knife against your latest stab wound, cauterising it to stop you bleeding out and keep you alive for as long as he needed you. A sickening smile crept onto his lips as he watched your eyes fill with tears once again and leant back once he was done. Much to your long awaited relief, that smile was wiped from his face when a spray of red erupted in front of you, shortly followed by Baros dropping to the ground next to you, dead on the spot he had accidentally stood in. 

You didn’t trust your relief, you didn’t trust yourself not to be hallucinated after the endless hours of torture, even when a heavily armed S.H.I.E.L.D team flooded into the room. A few gathered around you, asking questions you couldn’t quite understand as bright white lights filled your vision. Then you were being lifted into the air, not aware of the fabric of the stretcher beneath you until the back of your hand dropped onto it. You managed a small trace of a smile before you passed out. 

*

There was an arm draped across your stomach when you woke up. It was the first thing you felt, a fact that you were extremely grateful for. You blinked frantically a few times before you turned to look at your girlfriend sleeping by your side on the hospital bed. You smiled at the sight of her peaceful form and tucked some stray hairs behind her ear softly, careful not to wake her. You were glad you cherished that moment of peace and relief, because it wasn’t long before you had more company.

You took your hand away from Yelena’s face when Natasha walked in, settling to keep it by your side, although there was nothing you could do about the arm that was squished between yours and your girlfriend’s body. “I tried my best-” you started but Natasha shook her head. 

“You...you did great, y/n.” You smiled sheepishly, sure there were some drugs in your system. “No one could have done any better.” She said as her eyes flickered to the cuts on your face. “So thank you.”

“It was no trouble at all.” You shrugged. Natasha rolled her eyes but smiled faintly, something you never thought you would see directed at you. “I’d never let anything happen to her.” You said honestly. The redhead nodded as she looked at her sister.

“I know that now. I was just scared, I can’t loose her again and you have to admit you’re not the most reliable person on the planet.” You blushed and looked away. “But I trust you now and I’m sorry I doubted you.” She apologised sincerely.

“No harm, no foul.” You joked again, truly not knowing how you were meant to act around the Russian now that you were finally in her good books.

“Don’t make me regret this.” Natasha warned with a smirk. You chuckled lightly and watched as she made to leave. “You should get some rest.” She advised and you nodded but frowned when she was nearly out the door.

“How’d she know?” You asked, making Natasha turn back to you with a quirk of her brow. “That something wasn’t right.” The redhead smiled and shook her head.

“You hadn’t made a smart ass comment in ten minutes.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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[amjustagirl]

Hogwarts AU (Haikyuu!!)

feat. Miya Osamu 

For the darling @1tooru

Send me an ask with characters you’d like to see me write, whether in the Hogwarts setting or whatever you’d like to suggest, and I’ll try my best to make it work! 

Masterlist link here

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff

A/N: Assumed that the food served is Japanese, not gonna give the Haikyuu boys bad British food (no hate pls!! been traumatised by a recent trip to the UK :p )  

Miya Osamu (Slytherin)

All you knew about him was that he was one half of the famous Miya twins, and with Miya Atsumu strutting down the hallways with a cocky grin, no one would fault you for assuming his twin would be much the same. 

Not to mention the fact that Osamu is a fearsome chaser in his own right, causing such havoc during the match with Ravenclaw that Kuroo, the keeper, nearly tore his hair out mid-match.

You’ve developed a habit of sneaking away to the kitchens, spending evenings with the house-elves, trying to re-create the tastes from home. 

The Japanese food served day in, day out is good - you do enjoy the taste of dashi and miso and soy and pickles. 

But sometimes, just sometimes, you miss the heavier spices like tumeric and five spices, tropical flavours like coconut milk and jackfruit and pandan.

So you sneak into the kitchens and persuade the house-elves to let you experiment with their more exotic ingredients. 

And imagine your surprise when you discover that your sanctuary of food is invaded by one Miya Osamu. 

‘O-oh! I didn’t know the house-elves let anyone else in here’, you stammer, face red, expecting the stereotypical Slytherin response of a sneer to grace his face. 

But to your surprise his face remains expressionless, only shrugging his shoulders with grace. ‘Kitchen’s enough for us two, I suppose’, and he turns back to the rice balls he’s moulding in his hands. 

Three encounters later, you realise he’s not surly - just somewhat reticent and a little shy. You figure it comes with the territory of having a loud-mouthed twin. 

He offers you the onigiris he creates, cracks a smile when you moan over a mouthful of poached egg and soy-flavoured rice, his rendition of the humble tamago kake gohan, the Japanese staple of a raw egg over steaming white rice. His eyes widen in turn when you teach him the wonders of pandan flavoured custard and mango with sticky rice.  

‘You don’t seem like a typical Slytherin’, you gather the courage to make the bold statement one night, when the pair of you are sitting shoulder to shoulder in front of the kitchen fire, sharing a tuna mayo onigiri. 

‘Cos I’m not as ambitious as my lout of a twin?’ he asks, amused. 

You shake your head, trying to deny his statement, but the corners of his eyes only crinkle further. 

‘The Sortin’ Hat gave me a choice between Slytherin and Hufflepuff’, he says. ‘’Tsumu got sorted before me, and I guess I didn’t wanna leave ‘im alone. Who knows what he’d do if I’m not there to stop his shit’. 

‘So you’re in Slytherin for the greater good?’ you joke. 

He snorts, trying his best not to choke on a mouthful of rice. ‘I guess ya could say that, I suppose’. 

------------------------------------------------------------

You don’t tell anyone else about your evening sojourns in the kitchens with Miya Osamu. 

After all, he and Atsumu have a legion of crazed fans, and even though most seem to be gunning for the blonde twin, it’s enough to put you off acknowledging him beyond a shy nod between classes or two. 

Still, someone must have seen you leave the kitchens together, because nasty notes start appearing in your bag, and whispered curses are shot your way, causing your shoelaces to twine together in twisted knots, and your bag to split open when you’re rushing to class. 

You keep your head down, figuring that it’ll only get worse if you fight back. 

‘Why do ya have bruises on yer legs’, he frowns, distracted from his latest culinary experiment. 

‘It’s nothing’, you demur, trying to tug your skirt down to hide your legs but he catches your wrist in one warm, large hand. 

‘Who did this to ya?’, he asks, eyes thunderous when he sees the tapestry of mottled bruises on your knees and calves. 

You try to lie, tell him it’s no one, you’re just clumsy and tripped over your own feet, but he’s relentless and his mouth settles into a taut line when you finally admit that a couple of his fangirls may have gone a little too far in trying to warn you off him. 

‘They don’t get that we’re just friends’, you say quietly, refusing to meet his gaze, a smart move considering the way your heartbeat stutters in your chest.

‘I’ll deal with it’, he promises, and he does, because the next day, the same few girls come to breakfast with red rimmed eyes and apology notes find their way into your bag instead.  

------------------------------------------------------------

Since then, you have to admit that you’ve fallen head over heels for Miya Osamu.  

It’s the most cliched thing in the world to pine after a boy who doesn’t look at you the same way, but you can’t help it. 

He’s gorgeous, with broad shoulders and a slim waist, brown eyes that glimmer occasionally with such kindness that you forget he wears green and silver. 

It’s so easy to pretend that his protectiveness is a symptom of potential romantic feelings for you - but he continues to treat you as he always has, a partner in his culinary adventures, and nothing much else. 

So you trudge along, hiding your feelings until his birthday. 

You charm a paper plane to land in his plate during breakfast that day. He unfolds it, the corner of his lip quirking upwards when he reads your message - ‘Meet me at the kitchens tonight? Got a little special surprise for you!’

He grins - a rare sight, when you and the house-elves burst into song when he climbs through the portrait hole, and laughs out loud when you present him with the chocolate you made with the help of the house-elves. 

‘It’s not perfect, I know’, you tell him apologetically, staring balefully at the too-runny chocolate frosting, and the slanted icing that spells his name. 

‘It looks perfect to me’, he answers, cutting a huge slab for the both of you to share. 

You flush when he insists on feeding you the last bite of cake, your heart pounding when his palm is warm on the small of your back when he walks you back to your tower. 

‘Thanks for the birthday present’, he says when you reach your destination. ‘But forgive me for bein’ greedy and stealin’ one more present from you’. 

Then he gently tilts your face up to meet his, and bends down, slanting his mouth over yours and - oh. 

He tastes of dark chocolate and frosted cake, and his arms circling you still bear the warmth of the fireplace you’ve shared over countless frosty nights. It’s a dream come true, and you’re still breathless when he pulls away. 

‘Was that too much?’ he asks quietly, a note of anxiety in his voice. 

‘Not at all’, you whisper back, the thrumming of your heart betraying that you’d very much like to do it again. 

And when you’re back in your bed tonight, lips swollen from Osamu kissing you senseless in the corridor that night, you’re not sure whose birthday it is - his or yours, the way all your wishes have come true. 

[aceofstars0]

Ty for the tag Emma :D

Npt: @larz-barz @kimetsu-chan @tinyperson00 @pulim-v @sapphosdickandballs @slayfics @shycroissanti

Also if you want to see some of the weirder things on my poll I can post them lol

new tag game, because I can

no pressure tags:

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[wienerbarnes]

Italian Heart

Pairing: Bucky x Italian!MobBoss!Reader

Word Count: 4,867

Warnings: canon level violence, possible inaccurate italian slang lol

A/N: ive been watching a lot of the sopranos lately and i feel like ive never seen a bucky x mob boss reader au (ive only rlly seen em where buckys the mob boss. if there are ones where reader is the mob boss PLS SEND EM TO ME I BEG) a lot of the slang and mob stuff here is from sopranos bc... im not in the fucking mafia so forgive me anyway enjoy :)<3

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky’s never seen a woman quite like yourself.

Dressed in expensive satin and jewelry that hangs between your breasts, an angry look on your face at the fact you’re sitting before him and Sam in an interrogation room in the tower. Freshly done nails, clean and crisp lipstick, spicy perfume, and an expression of annoyance.

As put together as you look, you don’t look like someone to be fucked with. Which, he supposes is good for a mobster; the Boss of Newark.

Looking at you, though, he’d never thought you to be such a figure of intimidation. While the mafia is still alive, despite how the media tries to deny this, he always pictured an old Italian man that chain smokes cigars. He doesn’t think he’s too far off, to his credit; he can smell the remnants of smoke on you.

“Mind if we make this fast? My cousin’s comin’ for dinner and I was gonna make ziti.” You huff, crossing your legs under the table.

“Sounds delicious. Sorry for dragging you all the way out here.” Sam says, a calm look on his face even though he’s well aware of what you’re capable of.

When hunting down the last traces of the super soldier serum, he never thought Nick Fury himself would suggest getting in touch with you. He didn’t think it was worth the time to question how the two of you knew each other.

Theft. Drugs. Murder. Bribery. The list goes on, and there’s not a single thing that ties you to any of it.

A shrug of your shoulders, “So, what exactly is this about?” You ask.

“What is it that you do for a living?” Sam asks.

“I work in waste management.” You respond, a rehearsed answer.

Not exactly a lie, the environmental facility you manage is one of hundreds of covers used by your crew for your crimes. Environmental facilities, deli shops, strip clubs, auto shops. There isn’t a business in Jersey you aren’t tied to.

“Waste management? Like, garbage disposal?” Bucky asks, knowing exactly what it is you do for work.

You smirk, “Yeah, we dispose of garbage sometimes. What’s that got to do with me being here?”

“It’s to my understanding that you’re in the business of… buying and selling things. You and… the people you hang around got a real knack for it.” Sam tells you.

Bucky holds back a roll of his eyes. More like stealing and selling. Expensive Italian suits, antique watches, cars, electronics, illegal cigars. Who knows what else.

“I don’t know where you heard that… but I’m a popular gal, maybe I know a guy who might know a guy. What are you lookin’ for?” You ask.

You know this game, after being in the mob for so long. After being a part of your own crew for years, your patience and hard work paid off, working your way up to a captain and finally a boss. It didn’t take you long to learn in this business that government officials are jokes. Always wanting to bust my balls and then come crying to my corner for help, it’s a bunch of ugatz.

“Serums.” Bucky finally speaks.

A laugh escapes you, “What, like vitamin C?” You teasingly smirk at him.

His chair makes a loud sound in the small room as he pushes it back harshly and stands, resting his hands on the table in between the two of you. You don’t flinch.

“Enough with the bullshit. Super serums. To create super soldiers. We need to get them before they end up in the wrong hands and make a big ass mess.” He snaps at you, but you don’t seem phased in the slightest. In fact, you seem rather amused.

“You must have a lot of agita with all that anger, Sergeant Barnes.”

He doesn’t hold back this time and rolls his eyes before you speak up again, “Your first name is James, isn’t it? Ain’t that Italian?”

“No, it’s English. Or Scottish. Or Jewish - I don’t know, who cares? Are you gonna help us or not?” Bucky takes his seat again, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.

“What’s in it for me?” You ask, leaning back in your chair.

“Not being arrested for all the shit we know you’re caught up in.” Sam offers.

You roll your own eyes this time, “I’ll take my chances. Thanks for wasting my time, boys, don’t let it happen again.” You stand, prepared to make your way back to the train station to go back to Jersey.

“Wait,” Sam stops you, “What is it that you want?”

You smile innocently and take your seat again, taking a minute to think before answering, “My little sister’s a big fan of yours. I’m sure she and all her friends would think it’s cool if you showed up to her prom as her date.” You wink at Sam.

Silence fills the room as the men think about your request.

“You’re gonna do it, right?” Bucky looks over at him and sees Sam rubbing the crease in between his eyes. He was expecting you to ask for immunity, protection, money, guns. But after hearing your request, he supposes you have enough of all that stuff anyway.

“Man -” Sam begins to refuse.

“Sam, it’s a fucking school dance in exchange for some of the most powerful and sought after serums on the planet - go to the fucking prom.” He tells him, eyebrows scrunching in confusion as to how he would hesitate on something so simple.

“She’s eighteen, so you won’t have any problems with the media or none of that.” You add, the information not really making Sam feel any better.

“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll go to the dance with your sister if you help us get these serums.”

You smile, happy to have done business with the two men, “What information do ya got for me?”

…

Bucky and Sam wait outside a back room in the facility you own. They passed the garbage trucks parked neatly outside, but could hear your screaming and the smell of Cuban cigars as soon as they entered the building.

She’s with a customer, they were told, by someone in your crew, them meeting Bucky’s expectations for mobsters more than you did. None of them ask any questions, but Bucky and Sam aren’t stupid, they’re sure your crew is aware of what’s going on and know the exact reason they’re there.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that? The Bible says, Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit -”

“You listen to me, you take your Bible and your quotations book and shove it up your fat fucking ass! Now get the fuck out of my face!”

Bucky can’t help but scoff listening to you scream at whoever’s inside. Sam elbows him, silently telling him that now isn’t the time to find your work funny, especially not in front of the rest of your crew.

Bucky knows he’s old-fashioned, and while things that were taboo such as body modifications or certain fashion styles don’t phase him anymore, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to hearing a woman talk like that. He doesn’t think he’s ever even heard anybody talk like you do.

Suddenly a man bursts out of the room, huffing and puffing, and you walk slowly behind him, as if to make sure he makes it outside okay.

“Grab his plate for me, will you?” You say not to anyone in particular, voice smooth and calm as if you hadn’t been yelling and threatening that man’s life for the past twenty minutes.

One of the men from your crew follows outside, seemingly to collect the license plate of the man who just left.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to that guy, right?” Sam asks as he and Bucky enter the room, taking a seat in front of the desk you have in there. He knows there’s no point in asking, that you’ll do whatever you want regardless because it’s obvious you’re passionate about receiving respect, but it was worth a shot.

“Is that what you came all the way to Jersey to ask me? Christ, I’m fuckin’ starving, you boys want anything to eat?” You ask, accent heavy as you reach into the side drawer of your desk and pull out what seems to be some kind of meat wrapped in paper.

“Gabagool?” You offer to them, picking out a slice for yourself and placing it in your mouth.

“Gesundheit.” Sam responds.

“It’s pork, you asshole.”

Bucky silently reaches over and picks off a slice of the cured cold cut, putting the meat in his mouth and savoring the flavor. While he can’t stand the way you make a living or the sailor’s mouth you have, he loves Italian food, and actually chose a neighborhood in New York that has plenty of traditional cold cut markets and restaurants to live in in order to fulfill his cravings.

“There’s a big party staged downtown this weekend, we think that’s when the drop is going to happen.” Sam tells you, bringing the focus to their reason for coming here in the first place.

“I’ll send one of my boys.” You reply in between your chews.

“That wasn’t the deal. The deal was you get the serums.” Bucky speaks up.

“Buck, you know how many people want her dead?” Sam tries to reason.

“What the fuck do I have a crew for then? - No, if pretty boy wants me to do it myself, then I will. The same people that want my head are the same fucks who are terrified to be within twenty feet of me in fear they’ll make eye contact. I’m not scared of nothin’.” You say, narrowing your eyes at Bucky.

“What did you guys come here to talk about?” You ask.

Sam looks confused at your expression, “...To go over the plan? Hash out details? So you know how everything’s gonna go?”

“I’ll be fine; I’ve seen The Godfather once or twice,” You tell him, wrapping up the cappo, after Bucky picks off one last slice, and replacing it in the drawer, “Don’t worry Captain, this ain’t my first rodeo. I’ll get the serums for you.” You open a different drawer and pull out a cigar and a lighter.

Bucky watches as you place the large cigar in between your red-painted lips, bringing the flame of your lighter to the end and hollowing your cheeks until smoke exits from the corner of your mouth. Bucky feels blood travel south as his eyes glaze over your hand grab the cigar out of your mouth and blow out a long string of smoke.

“I guess we’ll be in touch then,” Sam stands and Bucky follows after.

“My sister’s wearing blue, so find yourself a nice tie.” You call out, lifting your feet up to cross them on the desk, dress rising and showing your legs.

Bucky blushes, and then laughs as he exits when he hears you, in a deep and more exaggerated accent than your own, “Just when I thought I was out… they pull me back in!”

…

The morning of the party, Sam and Bucky pick you up from your house, planning to take you into New York to discuss final details before tonight.

You get in the passenger seat, Sam offering it to you and climbing in the backseat. As Bucky begins to drive off, your phone rings.

“I told you to leave that.” Bucky says, telling you explicitly to leave electronics here to prevent anyone finding out where you are, and also to avoid any distractions.

“Wanted to see what you’d about it, Sarge,” You wink at him, pulling out a flip phone and answering the call.

“Yeah… Uh huh… He what? Are you fucking kidding me?... Alright… Tell him not to move a fucking muscle.” You hang up, slamming the phone closed.

“Stop at the facility for a sec, I gotta take care of something.” Bucky sighs and turns away from the route to head to your facility.

“Bucky’s going to be going with you tonight, by the way, he’ll be in disguise. Just in case anything goes wrong.” Sam tells you, not really caring anymore about having to make a stop for you to take care of whatever business you need to take care of.

Your only response is a hum as Bucky can feel the anger radiating off your now tense body.

You slam the car door shut as Bucky parks behind a garbage truck outside, not even waiting for him to fully put the car in park before you exit.

Him and Sam follow quickly behind you to see what’s going on. You enter through a side door that leads to a large room, a garage for the trucks, Bucky assumes.

There’s a large truck inside, and racks of suits wrapped in plastic scattered around. A younger man stands near the truck as your crew peruses around the racks, he couldn’t be older than twenty-five years old. Your heels click on the ground as you approach, slowing down as you glance between the suits and the young man. Bucky and Sam hang around a few feet behind your trail.

You stop, fuming, staring at the man before you speak, “You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“I -” He begins, but you cut him off, raising an open hand at him.

“Actually, I don’t even want to hear your fucking voice right now. Because if what I heard you did is true; if what you did to Vinny’s guy is true, you’re gonna be a fuck load of trouble.”

“Can I -”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“But -”

“I said shut the fuck up, Christopher! What part of that don’t you understand?” You yell, and even Bucky feels intimidated.

You turn to your crew, “What the fuck happened.” You demand, more than ask.

“Kid says he tried to take the truck, Vinny’s guy had a gun that fell outta the seat, went off, shot him.” One of the men summarizes, not looking up from the rack of suits.

You raise a manicured hand to pinch between your eyes, “You keep me skinny, Christopher, with all the fucking stress you cause me.”

“Would you let me explain?” He tries.

“If you don’t do as I told you and shut your fucking mouth, you’re gonna be buried with two assholes,” You threaten before continuing.

“They were fuckin’ suits! All you had to do was take the truck! How did you fuck that up -” You stop yourself and sigh, attempting to calm yourself down.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna take all this shit, you’re gonna take it back to Vinny, and you’re gonna tell him what happened yourself.” You finish.

“Marone!” He exclaims, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Enough with the theatrics! You’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in your ass! Now, I don’t see you grabbing that rack and that rack and that rack and putting it back in the truck!” You wave your arms around the room.

The kid sighs and begins grabbing the racks one by one and rolling them back in the truck.

“Would it be such a shame if they all went back?” An older man from your crew asks, already wearing one of the expensive suits. You scoff and laugh.

“Bucky, pick yourself somethin’ nice for tonight,'' You turn to face him, and he jumps at the sound of your now calmer voice being directed at him, as opposed to the harsh one used on Christopher, “On me.” You wink.

...

Sam and Bucky sit on the bed and watch as you get ready. A small apartment near the party that’s already been swept for bugs. A favor, you called it, from someone you know.

They don’t question it.

“You and Bucky will go in together and I’ll be waiting at a secondary location watching and listening to everything.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from your dress. A mermaid dress, he thinks it is, black and tight and hugging you in all the right places, curving around your ass and sleeveless at the top, allowing you to show off a nice necklace and your cleavage. It’s an understatement to say that he’ll enjoy accompanying you tonight, even if it’s in a costume.

His mother probably would’ve loved it if he would’ve gotten with someone like you. Someone who loves their family, a spitfire that wouldn’t take any of his shit, and whose god damn gorgeous. She might’ve had to wash your mouth out with soap, though.

“So, why is Bucky goin’ again?”

“Safety.” Bucky answers.

“Is he going for my safety or am I going for his?” You tease, finishing the last few curls of your hair, smoke coming from the iron after each time you pull your hair away from it.

“Once you find our guy, get talking with him and see if you can get him to make you an offer,” He begins.

“One I can’t refuse?”

“Then, you’ll try and get him alone, see if he’ll show you the serums, and once you do, we’ll be taking care of the rest.” Sam finishes explaining.

Bucky plucks a box from his pocket and opens it to reveal a pair of diamond earrings. One, a camera, and the other, a microphone. You’re also given a comm to hide in your ear so both him and Sam can hear everything and you can hear them.

“Easy - peasy.” You respond.

The ballroom is lively, loud music and people everywhere, and Bucky attunes all the action overwhelming him to a sweat and not that fact that you’re pressed up against him, his arm wrapped around your waist.

About a hundred different people come up to greet you, asking about your family, offering you drinks and food. Bucky can see right through all of them though; they’re all putting on the act out of fear. Everyone’s attention is on you, and Bucky’s sure if he wasn’t in disguise right now, no one would even notice.

You bring him to the middle of the crowd and he can’t be surprised when you start to dance with him, pulling at his arms to get him to loosen up. He complies, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close as the two of you move together.

“I’ll let you know when I spot him.” He tells you, voice causing goosebumps to rise on your neck; goosebumps that he notices but doesn’t point out.

It only takes a song or two before he spots who he’s looking for and sends you over, making sure your com is on, and choosing to stick by the bar, giving him a good view of you and allowing himself a break of having your body pressed against his.

He’s impressed listening to you talk to this guy, voice smooth and sultry, yet still commanding.

He knows there was a lot of talk when you took position as boss; not a lot of people in the mob took you seriously and didn’t think you or a woman in general would be good in that kind of position in power. So, you use that to your advantage to get shit done, and Bucky applauds you for that.

It’s not long before the guy offers to go somewhere more private to discuss business and Bucky follows far behind, Sam praising you through the coms from where he waits in the car outside, watching through the camera in your earring.

Bucky waits outside of a closed office door upstairs, listening to the conversation through the coms but hearing your exclamation through the door when the guys give you his asking price.

“5 mil each?! What do you take me for, some kinda stunad?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Take it or leave it, yeah, I can put a bullet between your eyes and take it, alright.”

“Stop messing around and take the offer, it’s not real anyway!” Sam tells you, not wanting to lose their chance on the serums.

You ignore him prioritizing your need for respect over the stupid mission, “How do I know these aren’t Kool-Aid pouches poured in glass bottles?”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to test ‘em out for you.” The guy scoffs.

“Stronzo. You’re outta your fucking mind offering me that.”

“I’ll lower the price for you if you give me a little dance, how ‘bout that?”

“Vaffanculo.” You curse at him.

“Up yours, lady!” He yells back, and Sam sees through the camera, he grabs at you.

“Buck, get in there.” Sam tells him, and it only takes Bucky a second to kick open the door.

He’s a bit taken aback when he not only sees the case of serums out on the table, but you holding the man bent over the small table in the middle of the room next to the serums, gun held to the back of his head.

He very quickly decides that you’re fine and moves to grab the serums, closing the case and holding it securely in his left hand.

“Don’t kill the guy.”

You stay silent and Bucky looks at you again. He can almost see the steam coming out of your ears and he notices a small cut on your cheek bone. He looks down to the man’s cowering figure and notices a large ring on his hand.

You mumble something in Italian to the man, a threat of some kind that Bucky can guess given how the man shuts his eyes and shakes a bit under your hold. Sam finally enters the room, military grade handcuffs in hand.

“Feds are on their way, get her out of here.” He tells Bucky.

You slowly lift the gun off the man’s head and stand up straighter, walking over to brush past Bucky in the direction of the back door.

He makes eye contact with Sam and gives him a nod before following after you, watching as you scrunch up the bottom of your dress to replace the gun in an ankle holster. Once outside, he stops you under a street light near the car and raises his hand to look at your cheek.

“We gotta get going,” You swat at his hand.

“You’re still bleeding.” He says, using his thumb to brush away the line of blood, smearing a red tinge on your skin.

He looks into your eyes and for a second he sees the tough exterior drop. The face of someone who got smacked across the cheek all for mouthing off at some asshole.

Your vulnerability doesn’t last long, though, as you sniff and walk towards the car, opening the passenger door and sitting inside before Bucky can make it over there to open the door for you.

The drive back to the apartment is silent, and Bucky doesn’t know what to do or say to fill the silence. Stepping into the apartment, you immediately go to change and collect your things. Bucky moves to the bathroom to look for a first aid kit of some kind.

He meets you in the room and you’re now in cotton pants and a large t-shirt, sandals on your feet showing the bright red color of your toenails and the lines indented in your skin from how tight your heels were. You’re hanging up the dress and zipping it back in the cover when Bucky drops the first aid kit on the bed.

“Christ, it’s only a small cut.” You mumble.

“Just - Let me, would you?”

He takes out the liquid of disinfectant and soaks a cotton pad, cleaning off your cheek bone with it before covering it with healing ointment and a bandaid.

You don’t thank him when he finishes and he huffs as he closes the kit, “When do you drop the act, huh?”

“I don’t.”

“Really?” Bucky asks in annoyed disbelief.

“No. People tend to try and have me whacked when I drop the act.”

He sighs, “So, what, nobody ever takes care of you? Treats you? You don’t have any days off? Time to be yourself?”

“This lifestyle doesn’t really allow me to have days off, Sergeant Barnes.” You snap, gathering the dress in your hands and turning to face him completely.

“Take me home, I’m tired and my feet hurt.”

You leave him in the room and he waits an extra few seconds before dropping the conversation and following you out.

...

Bucky opens the back door to the environmental facility with his right hand and sees the door to your office open, you and your crew sitting together surrounded by cigar smoke and he can hear a TV on.

“Sir, please step into the vehicle.”

“Like the cop would be callin’ this asshole Sir if the fuckin’ cameras weren’t around!” You wave a hand at the TV, not yet seeing Bucky standing there.

He finds it funny that the gnarliest criminals - the literal Mafia - spend their time watching shitty, scripted cop shows.

It’s been about two weeks since the mission with you where you retrieved the serums. Sam went to prom with your sister five days ago, which was hilarious for him, especially when he got photo prints of different sizes in the mail at his apartment. He didn’t bother thinking about how you found his address.

One of the men sitting next to you glances his way and sees him standing there, smirking at the vision of him; hair combed slightly back and to the side, and a large bouquet of flowers in his right hand and a small paper box in his left.

“You got company, Boss.” He says.

You look over to the doorway and your jaw drops in an open-mouthed smile.

“Look at googootz! Now this is a man that knows how to treat a lady, are you boys paying attention?” You tease, scurrying over to him and pinching one of his cheeks, resting your free hand on his large bicep to guide him into the room, the rest of your crew ushering out to give the two of you privacy.

“What’s in the box?”

“Cannoli.”

You throw your head back with an exaggerated moan, “You know the way to an Italian woman’s heart, Sergeant Barnes. What’s with all the gifts?”

“Thought I’d treat you.” Is all his response is.

You narrow your eyes at him and stand up a little straighter, crossing your arms over your chest.

The last conversation before he dropped you off that night hasn’t escaped his mind. He understands the difficulties of life - how it’s hard to find time for yourself among the busy schedule that is existing. He catches himself sometimes, too, forcing his body to run with no sleep, burning through all of his energy until he’s completely drained and blaming it on life.

But life’s not always like that. Life allows for days off. For treats. For a bit of kindness. And Bucky’s come to show you just that.

“What, a beautiful woman like you never received flowers and pastries before?” He says, taking a half-step forward to be close enough to look you closer in the eyes.

“Are you flirting with me?” You whisper in amusement.

His eyes glance away from yours to look down at your red-painted lips. He gives you a shy smirk, really turning up the charm. For a big, bad, boss, you’re pretty easy to break down.

“Let me take you out tonight.”

“Maybe I’ve got plans.”

“Cancel ‘em.”

“What makes you think you’re worth canceling plans for?”

“Why don’t you trust me and find out?”

“You should know by now, Sergeant Barnes, that I don’t trust.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, setting the box of cannoli on your desk before reaching his now free hand up to your face, using his finger to brush away a stray hair and push it behind your ear.

He then takes a hold of one of your hands, turning it over to place a kiss on the top of it, before wrapping your fingers around the flowers in his other hand, forcing you to take them.

“No restaurant you’ve been to a hundred times over, no drama, no business. Just a man trying to treat a lady.” You look down at the flowers before meeting his eyes again.

“I get to pick the place.”

“No.”

“The kind of food.”

“No.”

“The -”

“No. Let me take care of everything.” Bucky insists, determined to get you to give up control for the first time in what he can only imagine has been a very long time.

Bucky knows better than anyone how terrifying it is to give up control. It was terrifying when he was forced to give up control, his free will taken away from him in the war for decades upon decades, but it’s terrifying even now when he has to do it as a free man. It makes a person vulnerable. When was the last time you were allowed to be vulnerable for somebody?

“I’m gonna pick you up here at six. Wear something nice and leave the executive attitude at home.” He finishes, leaving you with the flowers and cannoli before returning back outside, ignoring the stares he receives from you crew who wait patiently outside your office.

He feels your eyes follow him at the door, and he can’t wait to sweep you off your feet tonight.

[furiousmooncupcake]

Love Sick / (Yandere) Mickey Altieri X OC

Parts 1-4 of my (ongoing) fan fiction. It is completely written in first-person because in this case the OC, Lila, is you. Im not the best writer but i hope you enjoy it, nonetheless.

Synopsis:

Lila Dupres is a long time resident of Woodsboro and a survivor of the Woodsboro massacres. After graduating high school she takes residence at Windsor College, determined to get a degree in theatre so she may follow her dreams of becoming a horror movie makeup artist/prop maker.

But it is only a matter of time before the slasher follows her, wedging a knife into her plans.

Will she live to graduate?

(Based loosely on the events of Scream 1+2)

***TRIGGER WARNING: This story contains themes that some may find offensive/triggering, such as alcohol and drug use, physical and sexual assault, death, self harm, suicide, violence and gore. Read at your own risk.***

***I do not claim any rights to the scream franchise or any of its characters. This is a fanfiction, so it does include characters and a story line of my own creation.***

Cover:

Act I

I kick the door of the trailer open with my foot and the sickly scent of weed hits me like a brick wall. I could never get used to it.

Arms full of grocery bags, I make my way to the kitchen area and drop them onto the cupboard with a bang.

My father sits up from his position on the couch, a joint between his lips.

"Ah Lila, Baby! You're back." He grins. "What's for dinner tonight?"

"Stir-fry rice." I reply in a monotone voice, pulling the ingredients from the paper bags.

"My favorite!" He pats himself on the stomach, slumping back down onto the couch.

I pull a pan out of the drawer and pour the rice into it, I bought the pre-cooked stuff because I really hadn't felt like boiling it tonight.

I always cooked for my father, not only did i refuse to eat the blackened food he always prepaired, but it gave me something to do during the day. I didnt really have many friends here in Woodsboro and I haven't gone out much since all of the killings had occurred a couple of years back.

The only reason I was making his favorite today was because I felt guilty. I had some very hard news to break and I thought it best to do it over a enjoyable meal- my father's heart is in his stomach, after all.

As I stir the bagged vegetables into the mix I stare at the small box television in the living room. My father was watching Psycho, his favorite horror film who's name I got from the main protagonist. He was a huge horror fan.

Surrounded by his favorite things, this would make the perfect opportunity to break the news.

I slide the finished Stir-fry onto some paper plates- I really didn't feel like doing dishes today- and carrying them to the couch.

My dad happily takes a plate, snuffing out his joint and using his round stomach as a table to eat. This is how most of our evenings went.

I lay my plate on my lap, turning my food over with a plastic fork. I examine my father, trying to gage his mood. He was a big man, with long stringy black hair and a disscheveled beard to match. He kept it out of his face with a paisley bandana tied around his forehead.

"Is something the matter, baby?" My father shoots me a look of concern.

"There is something I really need to talk to you about..." I mutter as I shove a forkfull of food in my mouth.

"What is it? You know you can tell me anything..." He sits up straight, laying his plate of food on the small make-shift coffee table.

"Are you gay? Because you know I'll love you either way right?" He lays a reassuring hand my on shoulder.

"No-no... that's not it..." I shake my head.

I look into his eyes, they are slightly blood shot but I know he is listening intently.

"I'm leaving..." I hold my breath, waiting for his reaction.

"What? Why? Where?" My father bombards me with questions.

"You know how I was saving up for college but I couldn't afford it?" I bite my lip. "Well mom agreed to put me through. I'll have to live on campus."

"Of course!" He rolled his eyes. "Your mother always has to step in a one-up me. I'll always be a failure of a parent."

My mother and father were separated. For years it was a constant battle between the two on who I had preferred to live with. It was always my father, because my mom was too much of a priss for me to handle. All she cared about was appearances and money- which she has a lot of. Whereas my father had always accepted me as I am and I could never ask for anything more.

Plus, I couldn't stand my mother's new husband. Just the thought of him sent a shiver up my spine.

"No, your not!" I wrap my arms around him in a tight hug. "You're not a perfect parent, but you've done more for me then she ever will."

Tears begin to roll down my father's cheeks and I wipe them away with my fingers.

"Do it..." He smiles. "Go make something of yourself, don't let me hold you back..."

"I dont want you to end up a dead-beat like me... playing guitar at a shitty dive bar down the road." He kisses my forehead. "You wanted to major in theatre arts right? So you can become a makeup artist and prop designer?"

I nod my head, he really does listen.

"Then go do it and rock it. You're going to blow through those classes like a piece of cake." He points to the movie that played on the television. "Any one day you're artwork will be on the big screen and I'll be able to look up and say: 'see that badass monster? My baby girl made that'."

As he speaks I can feel tears well up in my eyes. This was not the devastated reaction I had expected.

"But will you be okay... without me?" I ask.

"Probably not- but I'll manage." He jokes, letting me out of his embrace.

"I love you dad." I smile.

"I love you too." He smiles back at me. "Now go pack your things!"

He gives me a loving pat on the back as I run excitedly toward my room.

I dont have many things to pack, my room was extremely small containing only enough room for a twin sized bed and a small high boy dresser.

I pack my clothes as well as my sketchbooks into a large duffel bag. I was always drawing any chance that I got, doodling different character and prop design ideas- usually horror related ones- they were the most fun to draw because i could let my imagination run wild. Plus, when a character is meant to be ugly the design is a lot more forgiving of your mistakes.

I change into my pj's and jump into bed early, barely able to sleep with the excitement. Tomorrow, I'm off to college!

***

I look at myself in the small bathroom mirror as I brush my teeth. My hair was black like my father's, parted down the side with a blonde money piece I had dyed myself. My skin was pale and I wore my usual makeup look- a grungy black smokey eye and some dark red lipstick.

For clothing I picked out some torn skinny jeans, converse, a holey band t-shirt, a couple of studded belts on my waist and a red plaid button up on top. This was usually my go-to look. Causal but still kind of punky.

My toast pops in the kitchen and I run out to grab it, throwing my duffel bag over my shoulder on the way. As I shove it into my mouth I can hear the taxi outside blowing its horn. I give my dad one final goodbye hug and rush into the taxi.

Windsor college, here I come!

***

The driver shakes me awake, I had fallen to sleep on the way. I thank him and pay before stepping out of the taxi.

The school was huge and surrounded by students all crowding into the entrance. Words cannot describe my enthusiasm. I loved school as it were- I guess you could call me a bit of a nerd- but now going to school for something I was interested in made it so much more enjoyable.

I run to catch up to the crowd and suddenly I hear a voice call out from behind me.

"Hey Lila! What's up!?"

I turn to see who it was, the duffel bag on my shoulder swung and almost knocked a boy off of his feet. I apologized profusely before realizing it was-in fact- Randy Meeks that had called out to me.

He approaches me, Sidney Prescott by his side. He was one of my only friends in Woodsboro, we always had a heated debate every time I would run to the video store to rent another horror movie for my father for the thousandth time. Sometimes we would hang out after school for movie marathons, but our relationship became distant after the Woodsboro massacre. I went outside a lot less once I had graduated highschool.

He pulls me into a tight hug and once he lets go Sidney jumps in for one as well.

"We're going to be going to the same college, that's awesome!" Sidney grins.

"It is!" I clap my hands together. "It makes me feel a lot less nervous to see some familiar faces."

Randy grins, wrapping an arm around mine and Sidneys shoulders. They lead me to the office to get my room key.

"You should go get settled into your dorm, class starts at 8!"

I glance down at my watch, it's 7:40am. I only have 20 minutes. I panic, shouting 'see you later!' Before running like a maniac through the halls. I the last thing I want to do is make a bad impression on my first day.

I run with a bit of a hobble, the large bag weighing down my left shoulder. As I'm about to run out the entrance I run into somebody, almost knocking them over once again.

The impact causes the zipper to burst on my over filled bag and my belongings fall out and slide across the linoleum floor.

"Oh my God! Shit! I'm so sorry!" I apologize for the second time in the last half hour.

I fall to my knees and start haphazardly shoving everything back into my bag. The guy I had hit kneels to my level. He had warm brown hair and dark eyes.

"It's alright. Do you need a hand?" He smiles, his teeth perfectly in line. I would be lying if I said he wasn't attractive.

"No-no it's fine, I got it!" I shove the last thing into my bag before jumping to my feet once again.

"I gotta go!" I shout before turning around on my heels and running in the direction of my dormitory.

When I get to my room I toss my bag onto the unoccupied bed. The other half of the room was organized and cutely decorated. In between both beds was a communal computer and desk that separated our spaces.

I dig into my bag for my pencils and composition books before running back where I had started to attend class.

Act II

Unfortunately I hadnt made it in time. My teacher was not pleased but hopefully I can make up for my tardiness through my work.

I plank myself down in the only empty seat at the front of the class. I could feel everybodies eyes burning holes into the back of my skull.

"Everybody, this is Lila Dupres." The teacher speaks up. "She is our newest student."

I hear unenthusiastic 'hello's from the students around me.

"Before we were rudely interrupted-" the teacher shoots me a angry glare. "We were talking about how what happened in the theatre was a direct result of the movie itself."

"What happened?" I speak before raising my hand.

The teacher shakes his head and Randy speaks up.

"There were two murders at the screening of Stab last night. Maureen Evans and Phil Stevens."

My heart sinks into my stomach.

"Movies are not responsible for our actions. Bottom line." A pretty blonde haired girl chimes in, I later found out her name was Cici.

"Its a classic case of life, imitating art, imitating life." Someone retorts. It's the guy I had run into in the hallway earlier.

The students continue arguing back and forth between each other, the teacher stepping in now and then to highlight a particular point.

I hadnt had much of a chance to process the murders, so the way that they spoke about the deaths so non-chalantly made me a little anxious.

***

I kept quiet for the rest of my classes, scribbling down notes as the teacher said to do so until the bell rings, signaling the start of lunch break.

I grab a tray in the cafeteria. The place was packed. I frantically look around for a place to sit.

"Hey, Lila! Over here!" I hear Randy's voice as he waves me over.

He points to a seat at the end of the table and I sit. There was a couple of people at the table I did not recognize from any of my classes.

"So this is Hallie." Randy points to a beautiful black girl that sat beside him, then begins to introduce everybody around the table.

"This is Derek, Sidney's lover." He teases as he points to a broadly built guy with dark hair.

"Well, you know Sidney of course." He laughs.

"And this is-" before Randy is able to finish the guy butts in.

"Mickey- Mickey Altieri." He introduces himself. It's the boy from my class I had run into earlier that day. He extends his hand over the table and I shake it.

"It's nice to meet you all." I smile, shoveling a fork full of my mashed potatoes into my mouth. It was extremely bland.

"So Randy said you like scary movies?" Mickey tries to make conversation and I nod.

"She's named after the character from Psycho, isn't that cool?" Randy intercepts. "Her father is a horror lover as well."

Mickey smiles, wrinkles forming around his eyes.

"So what's your favorite?" He asks.

"Definately 'A Nightmare on Elm Street.'" My eyes light up, any excuse to talk about that movie gets me pumped. He notices this and keeps the conversation going.

"Which one?" He grins.

For the rest of lunch period we talk horror with the occasional comment from Randy. I throughly enjoy it.

As I throw away my trash and get up to leave, he grabs me by the arm.

"There's a party tonight, are you going?" He asks enthusiastically.

"Oh no, probably not." I sigh. "Today is only my first day, I dont really know anybody here."

"I think you should, it's a great way to meet people." He grins. "And I'll be there... it'll be fun."

"Hmm..." I bite the inside of my cheek. "Alright."

He gives me all of the details and leaves with a smug expression.

***

After classes are over I head back to my dorm room to get my homework done, party or not I was not slacking on my grades.

When I get back my roommate is there, I hadn't met her yet. She sits at the desk, scratching something down in her notebook.

"Hey, my name is Lila." I introduce myself and she peers up at me.

Her hair was platinum blonde and pin straight. She wore a skimpy tank top with her belly button showing and a short tennis skirt.

She gives me a look of disgust, her eyes rolling back in her head.

"Of course I'm stuck with you." She groans. What a bitch.

She goes back to writing, completely ignoring me.

"Do you mind if I use the desk?" I ask politely.

"Are you blind? I'm using it." She spat.

"Yes but I need to use the computer, can't you write somewhere else?"

She snaps her textbook closed, shoving it under her shoulder and jumping to her feet.

"Whatever. I didn't want to be here with you anyway." She leaves in a huff.

What is her problem? I shake my head and sit down to the desk, the seat was still warm. I turn on the computer and begin to type, I had to write a movie script for film class.

As I finish the last couple of paragraphs the sun ducks underneath the horizon and my room is only filled with the light of the computer monitor. I almost forgot I had a party to attend.

I turn on the lights and turn off the computer, making sure to save my project so all of my progress would not be lost. I spent way too much time planning every detail to lose it.

I change my outfit, putting on a slim fit purple velvet dress with spaghetti straps. I swap my dark lipstick for some gloss and roll some scented body glitter across my collarbone. I pull on some strappy heels for a final touch. I'm about to be the hottest girl at that party.

I exit my dorm and try to recall the name of the sorority house I was going to. All of them had names with strange Greek letters... beta-zeta-omega-lambda... I couldn't remeber.

The breeze was cool and crisp for an August night. I listen carefully for the sound of people or music, but all I can hear is the sound of my heels clicking against the pavement.

Alpha-delta-gamma... ok, this is starting to piss me off now.

I see a shadowy black figure move in the corner of my eye. Perhaps they are leaving the party?

"Hey!" I shout into the air. "Can you help me!?"

The figure turns toward me and my heart stops. Somebody was dressed up in a Ghostface costume. When they saw me they immediately started running into the trees.

I walk in the direction that the costumed person had come from- and sure enough, it lead me right to the party. It was probably some drunk trying to play a sick prank.

The place was filled with flashing disco lights and smoke. People dance together, grinding against each other-drinks in hand. I have to shimmy past a couple making out in the doorway to get to the beer table.

I pop the can and bring it to my lips. I have a problem holding my alcohol, so I don't drink often... but it was a Friday night and I didn't have classes tomorrow... so why the hell not?

'Mr. Vain' By Culture Beat booms on the speakers. I absolutely love this song. I make my way to the dance floor, swaying my hips to the beat.

I dance with my beer in the air, enjoying myself.

Suddenly I feel somebody's arms snake around my waist. I look up over my shoulder, it's a guy from my class who's name I cannot remember. His dark hair- slicked with gel- falls infront of his face as he sways along with me to the music.

As the song changes I turn myself around. His arms move from my waist down onto my hips and we continue to sway. He leans forward, pressing his cheek against mine.

"How about we get out of this place, hmm?" He whispers in my ear. I can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"No thanks. I'm not done dancing yet." I bluntly reject him. He was really good looking but one night stands just arnt my thing.

He doesn't take no for an answer, his hands make their way up the back of my skirt. I shove him away by his chest.

"Stop!" I snap.

"What's the matter? Not a fan of PDA? We can find somewhere more private."

He leans toward me again and I smack him across his face.

"What the fuck!?" He growls. "What's wrong with you!?"

"Youre disgusting. Get out of my sight." I cross my arms.

"Fat bitch. Your lucky anybody even considered sleeping with you."

I'm not fat, but I'm not small either. I'm sort of in the middle- which makes it difficult to shop for clothes.

Regardless, I know my worth.

"Yeah, yeah. Kiss my ass dipshit." I hiss. "Go find another girl to assault."

He gives me a repulsed look before storming off.

I sigh, shaking my can of beer, it was empty. I was not even close to being drunk enough to deal with this shit. That means it's time for another.

I turn to head toward the beer table once again and I run into somebodys chest. It was Mickey.

"You really like running into me, don't you?" He grins as I readjust my nose ring.

"Apparently."

He has a beer in each hand, extending one toward me. I gladly take it.

"I saw you smack the soul out of that dude. What happened?" He laughs.

"He got a little too handsy." I popped the can, taking a sip. "He deserved it."

"He definitely deserved it." He chuckles.

"Do you want to dance?" He jokes. "I promise to keep my hands to myself."

I grin and the song switches to 'Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go' by Wham!. I take him by the hand and pull him out to the center of the dance floor.

We twist together to the music. I start to lip sync along, using my beer can as a microphone. He bursts into laughter, clapping with the beat.

It's the most fun I've had in a while... but it is short lived.

Somebody shouts something into the crowd and everybody starts running from the building in a panic.

"What's going on?" I look around in bewilderment.

"I don't know..." He furrows his brows. "But if everybody is getting out of here we probably should too."

He takes me by the hand and leads me through the crowd. I am getting pushed and shoved from every direction, I press myself as closely as I can into Mickey's back to avoid some of the blow.

When we get outside I take a step back, the fresh air was nice on my flushed face.

"Cici's dead!" Somebody shouts.

"What?" My heart rises into my throat.

"She was just murdered- stabbed and thrown off the balcony of her sorority." Somebody answers my question.

It's happening again... I thought all of this murder stuff was behind me. First the massacre in Woodsboro, now here. Death just likes to follow me around.

I remeber the costumed person I had met earlier, was I really face to face with the killer?

"Lila, are you alright?"

"Huh...?"

"You look like you're going to be sick." Mickey looks at me with concern.

He was right. Between the anxious knots in my stomach and the alcohol I had just downed, I wanted to vomit.

In spite of the news and the fear that surrounded us, he seemed rather calm. Am I just over reacting? Or is he just not normal?

He helped me back to my dorm, I didn't feel safe walking alone and my legs were beginning to feel unsteady.

We part ways at the door and I stumble up to my room. Throwing myself down onto my bed.

I close my eyes. Perhaps I'll wake up tomorrow and realize that this part of the night was all a bad dream. That no murder had actually occurred and the college grounds are perfectly safe.

Right?

Act III

I frighten myself in the mirror this morning. Last nights smokey eye had migrated across my face and my hair had found its way into my lipgloss.

I jump into the shower and clean myself up, I still feel sick but that is no reason to look like a hot mess. I redo my makeup and put on my usual plaid shirt-skinny jean combo.

I make my way down to the cafeteria, grabbing a plate full of cheese scrambled eggs and bacon. Grease is exactly what I need right now.

The eggs were just as bland as the potatoes I had the day before, I'm going to starve in this place.

I knaw at the overcooked bacon, forcing it down my throat with some orange juice. Ugh. 

I scrape my tray into the garbage and almost drop it as I hear a blood curdling scream from the kitchen.

I- along with some other students that were in the cafeteria- rush into the back to see what is wrong.

The lunch lady stands in shock by the walk in cooler.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

As I open the door of the cooler something rolls out onto my foot. I look down, it's a severed head with a butchers knife in its skull.

I panic and kick it off of my shoe. It rolls over and reveals it's face to be that of the guy that harassed me at the party last night. His skin was blue from the cold.

I probably shouldn't have looked but curiosity had gotten the best of me. I peek inside the walk in and the boys body lay lifeless against the shelving. He had been cut across his stomach, his intestines spilling out onto his lap. The word 'PIG' had been carved into his chest with a kitchen knife.

I throw up my breakfast into a nearby trashcan, so much for that.

The other students run around frantically in a panic as the lunch lady dials 911.

***

It is not long before the police arrive. They sit me down at one of the lunch tables as they tape off the crime scene.

"Hello, Lila." An officer sits across from me, offering me another plate of breakfast and glass of juice. " I have a few questions."

I stare at the plate and I cannot even fathom trying to eat it. The sausages on the plate make me think of the organs I had just witnessed and I almost puke again.

"Tell me everything that you know." The officer requests.

I tell him exactly what had happened, and more... perhaps too much. I tell him about what had happened at the party last night.

"So your telling me, you have a motive?" The officer raises a brow and my face falls pale.

"What do you mean!?"

"Well isnt it funny how he ended up dead after assaulting you last night, and you just happened to be one of the first people to find his body?"

I start to feel light headed, I could hear my pulse in my ears. Why me? Why me!?

"Your off the hook for now while I question the others, but your still a prime suspect. Do not try to run away or anything stupid." He gives me one last warning before moving to the next table.

I take the glass of oj and walk outside, I need some fresh air. I sit at a bench underneath a tree. Maybe I should have just stayed in Woodsboro.

I feel the bench move beside me, it's Randy.

"Hey Lila, I just heard what happened." He frowns. "Are you doing alright?"

"Just peachy." I sigh, staring down at the juice in my hand.

He wraps an arm around my shoulders, giving me a reassuring squeeze.

"It'll be alright. You'll be alright." He smiles. "I lived through the Woodsboro massacre first hand, and I'm doing great."

"Yeah... but you weren't the prime suspect." I groan, laying my head onto his shoulder.

"Everybodies a suspect in a murder case, you should know that by now." He jokes.

Tears start to run down my cheeks, I didn't even feel them coming but I can't control it.

"I won't survive in jail, Randy." I sniff. "I'm too soft."

I hear a rustling sound behind us, then a voice.

"What's going on?" Mickey shows up out of nowhere, sitting on the bench on the other side of me.

I hadn't heard him approach, where did he come from?

"Lila's a murderer." Randy jokes.

"Shut up Randy! Thats not funny!" I use the back of my hand to wipe away my tears. They were stained black with my eyeliner.

I notice Mickey had a small silver camcorder in his hand, what is he recording?

"Why would they think it was you?" He blinks in astonishment.

"Because apparently I have a motive." I take the last sip of my orange juice, crumbling the cup up in my hands.  "It's not fair."

He looks me in my eyes, laying his free hand ontop of mine.

"You'll be fine..." He smiles. "I'm sure of it."

He speaks with so much confidence that I almost believe him. But how can he be so sure?

As if on cue the police walk out of the building with another student in cuffs. The sheriff approaches us at the bench.

"Miss. Dupres, I apologize if I scared you earlier. We've just made an arrest, you're in the clear." He smiles.

"That's his roommate..." Randy points out. "How do you know it's him?"

"We found a ball of hair in the victims fist, matching the hair of his roommate. We also found this when doing a search of their dorm room."

The sheriff holds up a bloodied Ghostface mask and my jaw falls open.

"The blood on this mask also matches that of Casey- or Cici. So we know both of the killings were linked." He tucks the mask under his arm.

"You kids be safe now, alright?" He tips his hat. "And thank you so much for your cooperation, Lila."

The sheriff walks away, hopping into his police car and driving away with the criminal.

"See, you got worried for nothing." Mickey smiles warmly, his hand still ontop of mine.

"Yeah, I didn't doubt you one bit." Randy jests and I dig my elbow into his side.

"I'm still probably never going to get the image of that out of my head. That was grody." I close my eyes, rubbing my forehead as if it would release my memories.

"You watch a lot of horror movies, shouldnt you be accustomed to it?" Mickey asks.

"Seeing it in person is a lot different then in the movies. You wouldn't know." Randy answers him.

"I guess I wouldn't." He bites his lip.

"Hey, Lila." He quickly changes the subject. "Have you written you script for class yet?"

"Yep! It's all done!" I smile from ear to ear. "And its sure to knock the teacher's socks off."

"I'd love to read it." He grins. "If you'd let me."

"Sure!" I sit up from the bench. "I gotta go to my dorm room anyway, I'm starving and I've got a bag of doritos with my name on it."

Mickey laughs and stands up with me but Randy stays seated.

"Don't you want to read it too?"

He looks at me, then over my shoulder at Mickey and then back at me again.

"Maybe some other time..." His voice sounds strained. "I gotta start writing my own today."

"Alright..." I was slightly disappointed.

***

When we get into my dorm room I pull my bag of chips out of my drawer, ploping down into the desk chair.

Mickey sits down on the edge of my bed. He notices my stack of sketchbooks piled up on the floor, I haven't had a chance to pack my things away yet. He picks one up and flicks through the pages.

"Wow..." His eyes widen. "You're really talented, you know that?"

He stops at a particular drawing of a man sitting atop of a pile of body parts that lay below the floorboards.

"What's this one?" He inquires.

"I was inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's 'Tell-Tale Heart'. Have you read it?"

"No, what's it about?" He looks genuinely interested.

"It's about a man that murders somebody and hides the body under the floorboards." I explain. "The writer is basically trying to prove their sanity to the reader while simultaneously losing it."

"He is haunted by the guilt and eventually confesses to the police, showing them where the body was hidden."

"But why go through the trouble of hiding it? He would have been better off just confessing from the start, perhaps he wouldn't have lost his mind." Mickey flicks through more of the pages as he speaks.

I shrug, shoving a handful of chips into my mouth.

"Oh...and you're also a fan of ghostface?" He refers to a page covered in sketches of the killer.

"Fan is not the proper word." I turn toward the computer. "I just doodled those while I was watching the news a while back."

"I really like them..." He chuckles. "Could I have this page?"

"Fill your boots." I laugh as I scroll through the files on my desktop.

I hear him gently tear the page out of my sketchbook, laying it back into the pile on the floor.

"That's weird..." I knit my brows.

"What?" He asks, getting up and leaning into the computer to get a better look.

"It's gone!" I panic. "My script is gone! But I know I saved it!"

I scroll up and down through the files multiple times, it's nowhere to be found.

My arms fall limp to my side. I let out a mournful groan before slamming my head down onto the desk.

"It's alright. It's not due until Monday, you've got another day or so to write  another one." I can feel the warmth of his hand resting on my back.

"Dude, I have the memory of a goldfish! I can't even remeber half of what I wrote." I shake my head. "I basically have to start from scratch."

"That's ok too." His voice is suddenly much closer to my ear. "I'll help you write it."

I raise my head, his face is only inches away from mine.

"I can't ask you to do that, you've got to worry about your own." I blow.

"I've already got it finished and printed." He chuckles.

I really should have done that too, but I was too concerned with that stupid party. I said I wouldn't allow it to affect my school work but I guess that backfired. That is happening a lot lately.

"Alright... if you really don't mind?"

He sits back down on my bed, up by my pillow so that he has a clear view on the computer monitor.

"Of course not."

Act IV

We work late into the night. To my suprise he was actually quite smart.

Staring at the screen for so long causes a dryness in my eyes that makes it difficult to blink.

Mickey had made himself quite comfortable in my room, laying across my bed on his stomach and watching me type.

"So what kind of ending you thinking?" He poses a question.

"I don't know... as much as I want a happy ending, that's what's expected." I rub my chin. "I want something different that'll take the audience by suprise."

He nods, approving of my idea.

"Maybe-" He is interrupted by the lound bang of my room door swinging open.

My roommate barges in, frustratedly throwing her purse onto her bed. She wore a skimpy plaid two piece set, like somebody from 'Clueless'.

She looks over at us, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"Whats your problem now?" I let my annoyance slip.

"Arnt you gay?" She gives Mickey a looking over before looking back in my direction.

"Why does everybody think that?"

"You give off the vibe." She says matter-of-factly.

"Plus, that dude that they found dead this morning was going around the party last night telling everybody you wouldn't fuck him cuz youre a lesbian." She talks in between chewing her gum, it irritates the hell out of me.

"It's really none of your business." I grumble.

"I'm going to change into my pjs, your creepy ass boyfriend better be gone when I come out." She speaks as if Mickey isn't even there, closing the bathroom door behind her.

"What a bitch." He sits up.

"Yep." I clench my fists. "I've only been staying with her for a couple of days but the urge to smother her in her sleep is immense."

He finds my threats extremely amusing, shooting me a cheeky grin.

"I better get going." He jokes. "They said you weren't the murderer but I don't want to take any chances."

I give him a sarcastic look as he gets up from the bed.

"I really appreciate your help today, i think this one is even better than the last." I get up as well, walking him to the door. "I don't know how to thank you enough."

"Well, there is one way." His eyes are full of intent. "Hang out with me again tomorrow? Ive got a TV in my room, we can watch some movies."

His smile is so perfect, I couldn't say no if I tried.

"Sounds good." I nod.

***

I knock at Mickey's dorm room door, I was a little early because I had decided to run to the convenience store for some snacks beforehand and didn't take as long as I had suspected.

His roommate answers.

"Oh hey, Mickey said you were coming. But he's not here right now."

"Oh, that's fine, I'm a bit early. I'll come back later." I turn to walk away and he stops me.

"You can come on in if you want to. I'm on my way out the door but he's been gone a while so he shouldn't be much longer." He steps aside, motioning for me to enter.

"Make yourself at home." He waves goodbye before shutting the door behind me.

The room had the exact same layout as mine, the only difference is that there was a television mounted on the wall. I could tell which side of the room belonged to who because one side had sports memorabilia and photos of half naked women scattered across the walls, while the other was plastered in horror movie posters.

I lay my shopping bag of snacks down onto the desk and sit down on Mickey's bed.

I quickly jump back up to my feet as I feel something hard underneath me, it's the silver camcorder that he was carrying around the other day.

I grab it then sit back down, flipping open the screen on the side. I wonder if he would be mad if I was a little nosey?

I turn it on and scroll through the files. They started off seemingly normal- animals, flowers, the sunset... but as I scroll I come across a video with a black screen.

I click play and all that can be heard is shuffling... then suddenly a scream and a gun shot. Then the video ends.

What the? I scroll through some more photos before finding another dark video. I click play and it's is hard to make out what is happening.

The camera zooms and my heart sinks into my stomach.

It was me, in my purple velvet dress walking around aimlessly in the dark.

A shiver runs down my spine.

Then it cuts to inside the party. It plays through the whole scene of me dancing with the guy, then hitting him in his face and the video stops.

The next few photos are of me doing various things at different angles on different days, unbeknownst to me.

The camera starts to shake in my hands, I can't watch anymore.

The reality of the situation sets in and my heart feels like it is going to burst. I have to get out of here.

I panic and put the camcorder back where I had found it, straightening out the blanket on the bed.

I run to the door but before I can grab the knob I hear somebody fumbling with their keys on the outside.

Shit.shit.shit!

I jump backwards as he swings open the door and we come face to face.

"Oh, Lila you're here early." He grins.

"Y-yeah... your roommate let me in." I try not to stutter but I'm finding it difficult to breathe.

He shuts the door, holding a stack of movies under his arm.

"I couldn't decide which movie to pick, so I grabbed a bunch." He chuckles, spreading them out onto the desk.

"Which one?" He asks.

I don't answer. I can't, the words won't leave my mouth. He looks at me with concern, resting a hand on my arm.

"Hey, are you alright?" He blinks. "Your shaking... do you need a blanket?"

I want so badly just to run away, to leave. But he is a lot larger than I am and I don't know what he is capable of.

"I am a little cold." I lie through my teeth.

He tells me to sit and I cooperate, I don't plan on arguing. He gets a throw blanket from the closet and gently drapes it around my shoulders.

"How about we watch 'A Nightmare on Elm Street', you said it was your favorite."

"Ok." Is all I can muster.

He slides the VHS into the TV then motions for me to move over. I scoot myself to the side and he lays the snacks I had purchased between us before sitting down on the bed beside me. Being wedged between him and the wall made me slightly uneasy.

I sink into the headboard, cocooning myself into the blanket. I'll be alright, just enjoy the movie...

Eventually it gets to the part where Glen gets pulled through the bed. A smiles slips across my face.

"Is this your favorite part?" Mickey speaks up and it frightens me. Had he been watching me?

"Any part with Johnny Depp in it is my favorite part." I chuckle.

"Ah, I see how it is." He laughs. "Can't blame you though."

My heart finally begins to slow. Mickey is so sweet, their must be an explanation for what I saw. I'll have to ask... I just have to figure out how to bring it up.

After the movie ends he slips the next one into the VCR. I tear open a bag of popcorn and he reaches a hand into it, his other one making its way across my back.

As the last movie comes to and end and the credits roll our gazes meet. His dark eyes sparkle with the reflection of the television.

"You know, I really enjoy your company." He whispers, leaning in as he speaks.

"That's nice..." I reply awkwardly, I know that probably wasn't the most appropriate response.

It doesn't seem to phase him as he closes the gap between us, his lips pressing firmly against mine. My body tenses, I dont know how to react.

He wraps one of his arms around my waist, his other hand brushes gently against my neck.

I slowly give in to the kiss.

[ignatiusteto]

first chickweed geometer (Haematopis grataria) of the year.

chickweed geometers are found all across the east united states, and right about now (april-may) is when they start coming about. they are known for their yellow color with fuschia pink details like the stripes across their wings and the dot on each forewing. males have fuzzy antennae like the one above. chickweed geometers may not be as fancy as the rosy maple moth but they're far more common to catch a glimpse of and beautiful nonetheless. you can see them both at night or even occasionally fluttering about in the day. their larvae are the popular inchworm many of us have heard of or seen. chickweed geometers also, like other geometer moths, have a unique fantastic wing shape unlike any other moths.

these geometers mean a lot to me because it was the species I did my biology entomology unit paper on, a topic of biology I have since found myself an extreme fan of and given the chance I would totally work towards an entomology degree if I could. im still not sure if environmental biology or general bio is something I can and will actively study in the future since i have music and psych on my plate but it's very dear to my heart.

[acornmaybe]

i often get close to passing out at seeing my own blood/a needle (or anything really*) in me, haven't actually done it yet though

it also feels like a little fan is whirring into one ear and making it hard to hear, plus i hear like i'm underwater, all muffled

my limbs feel weak and slippy, they just do that sometimes but whenever the blood/needle/injury is happening it's pretty consistent they turn into useless floppy sticks

i guess it's because it's a reminder of the fact i am made of blood and meat and my life can be ended really fast if something sharp goes through my stomach at just the right angle and rips all my organs in half like some sort of ninja

the blood itself disgusts me, but the context and blood together is what would normally trigger the things above, though sometimes the context itself does it

it's pretty sensitive too, getting a paper cut and being able to see under that made me want to chop my finger off and magically heal it so i didn't get a reminder i am in fact made of meat and blood

looking at something similar to blood is a bit scary when i don't know what it is. im fine w/ painting with red or eating w/ ketchup but if i see it smeared onto a piece of paper or on a plate as i'm walking by it makes my stomach tingly like a leg falling asleep until i confirm what it is, but then it lingers for a while

dry blood is weirdly relieving? like, gross, but i didnt have to look at it earlier so that's nice

in case of injury it makes it hard to do more than wash the blood away since to do anything else would be looking at it too long, time to faint

sorry for inconsistent use of apostrophes and if this is too long

*once i stepped on a staple, the skin was thick so it barely did anything but the idea the staple was anywhere other than firmly outside of my skin caused lesser versions of the symptoms above/at the top

ok /genq for people who are triggered by blood. what does that entail? is it the blood itself or the context of the blood? if something looked like blood, but it wasnt, would you be triggered by that thing? does dry blood trigger you as well? if youre hurt are you able to take care of yourself when you bleed?

im personally not triggered by it im just very curious about what its like tbh

[wlntrsldler]

paper rings (o.w one shot)

Hii! I've just read your Oliver fic and it's amazing. I need more, and I don't know if your requests are open but if they're, can you write something for him with a slytherin!reader. Maybe they're are some kind of rivals, but end up becoming friends and then lovers. Thank you!!

Hi again haha! I was the one requesting something for Oliver, can you add or based it on paper rings by taylor swift? Like the part where she sings “i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this” 🤍

PROMPT: based on paper rings by taylor swift. Oliver and Y/N never got to know each other when they were in Hogwarts— years later, they finally do. 

WC: 4.2K+ (im sorry)

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

-

paper rings (o.w one shot)

It seemed that life never meant for you and Oliver Wood to become a part of each other’s lives. You were a year below him at Hogwarts and by the time you entered as a first year, Oliver had already established his hatred for the rival house of Gryffindor— Slytherin, which just happened to be the house you got sorted in. Over the years, neither of you really went out of your way to become friends with each other. In fact, the only time Oliver saw you outside of shared classes was when Gryffindor played against Slytherin, which your boyfriend— or ex-boyfriend— Cassius Warrington was the chaser for. 

Oliver knew very little about you and he was never kept up at night by the thought of you. You weren’t really a popular student either. He didn’t even know your name. In his defense, his Hogwarts years were centered purely on Quidditch. You were just the girl he occasionally bumped into in the hallways while he was trying to do last minute revisions for their game plans. Or the girl who happened to check out the exact book he needed to write an essay for Snape. Or the girl he saw occupying the same seat in the Slytherin stands during the Gryffindor versus Slytherin matches.

It wasn’t until three years after the end of the war did Oliver finally meet you— officially. He decided to come back and give a summer camp opportunity for Hogwarts Quidditch players, a request from Professor McGonagall. Oliver thought his return to Hogwarts was long overdue, missing the grounds where he got his first real shot at playing Quidditch. You were hired by Professor Flitwick, the same summer that Oliver was asked to come back to Hogwarts, to take over Potions, as it was always your strongest class during your years. After a few years as a Healer, you realized that teaching was your calling and since then, you’ve pestered the Hogwarts staff to allow you to teach on campus until they finally caved.

When you arrived that summer, you were expecting to be greeted by an empty castle, with the exception of the house elves and a few professors. You weren’t expecting a group of thirty students of all ages lined up on the Quidditch Pitch. 

As you dropped your bags on the steps leading up to your room, you turned to Professor Flitwick, “What’s that all about? I thought students were out of the castle around this time?”

He ushered you to continue going up, “They are, typically, but Professor McGonagall invited an old student to help some kids with their Quidditch skills. You know her and Quidditch, big fan, she is.” 

You hummed in agreement, the explanation enough for you to drop the subject. You found yourself watching the students fly around on their brooms, thinking about how it didn’t seem so long ago since you watched your own classmates doing so. You vividly remember wrapping yourself up in your house colors, cheering on Cassius, but knowing deep down you wanted the other team to win. You were never a fan of the dirty plays of the Slytherin house. 

You were so caught up in a daydream that you didn’t notice a bludger flying rapidly towards your opened window. Your eyes widened in fear, anticipating the painful impact. However, it never came. A flash of colors blocked the bludger from hitting your window. When you finally got enough courage to look at what saved you from the bludger that could’ve taken you out, you saw a boy sitting on his broom, a beater bat in hand. His face was turned away from you, his features unable to be seen in the angle he was facing. 

“Thank you,” you squeaked, clearing your throat once you realized you were out of harm’s way.

The boy turned around, flashing a concerned look to you. He looked oddly familiar. You were sure you’ve seen him before. He eyed you up and down, grinning when he realized you were safe. He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, “Sorry bout that, miss. These kids are out of practice it seems. Didn’t think they’d need this much help.” 

You returned his smile, leaning against your desk, “Well, that’s why you’re here, innit?” 

“That’s true,” he smiled. He flew closer to your window, extending his hand, “Oliver Wood.” 

You looked down at his shirt, not missing the emblem of Puddlemere United sewn proudly on his chest. You grasped his hand in yours, “Y/N Y/L/N.” 

“Say, did you go to Hogwarts?” he asked, titling his head to the side as if trying to figure out if he’d seen you before.

“I did. Bit offended that you don’t remember me, Mr. Star Gryffindor Keeper,” you teased.

“Sorry, I was a bit oblivious to anything not Quidditch related back in school,” he said, sheepishly. Then his eyebrows shot up in realization, “You’re Cassius Warrington’s girlfriend, aren’t you?” 

“I was, yes.” 

“Was?” Oliver asked, emphasizing your usage of the past tense. 

“Was,” you confirmed. 

Before he could speak again, he was interrupted by the sound of students arguing on the Quidditch Pitch. He let out a defeated sigh and brought the whistle that was dangling from his neck, up to his lips. A shrieking sound caught the students’ attention and they immediately fell in line. 

He turned his attention to you, “I would love to hear the story behind that but unfortunately, I have students to take care of. Will you be down for dinner?”

You nodded in response, making him raise a thumb up and watched him fly back down to the group of clamoring students. As you began to unpack your belongings, you couldn’t help but keep looking over your shoulder to watch Oliver coach the students of various houses. You laughed as he got into a playful argument with one of the Slytherin students who insisted that Puddlemere United was a terrible team. You could tell that Oliver didn’t really take much offense to it, knowing that at the end of the day he was just glad to be playing for such an elite team. 

It didn’t take long for the sun to set, an indication that dinner was now being served. You happily made your way down the familiar hallways leading up to the Great Hall. You greeted the various house elves that remembered you from your Hogwarts years and stopped to talk to some young students who were still too scared to talk to the professors on their own. 

“I’m going to be one of your professors next year, you know,” you said, walking beside an upcoming second year. “What house are you in?” 

“Gryffindor,” he replied, his voice a bit shaky, “Though, I don’t think the sorting hat made the right decision. I’m too scared to talk to professors on my own, how cowardly is that! I’m not a true Gryffindor.” 

“Hey, the sorting hat makes no mistakes,” you reassured him, nudging him a bit, “You were sorted into Gryffindor for a reason, okay? Don’t doubt yourself.” 

“I suppose,” he sighed, still defeated, “I just wish I was more like Oliver Wood. He’s a true Gryffindor. Plus, he’s such an amazing Quidditch player! I want to be just like him!” 

You laughed, opening the door to the Great Hall and allowing him to go inside, “I guess he’s alright.” 

“Alright?!” the boy shrieked, eyes bulging out of their sockets, “I’m sorry Professor Y/L/N but Oliver Wood is more than alright.” 

“Whatever you say,” you shrugged, walking over to Professor McGonagall to accompany the boy. Once you knew the boy would be alright in his conversation with the professor, you made your way over to the table with the rest of the faculty. 

You sat on the corner of the table, waiting patiently for a certain Quidditch star to make his way over to you. He was too preoccupied talking to another Professor, most likely about Puddlemere United as she kept motioning to his shirt. Oliver met your eyes and he sent a friendly wave, signaling that he’ll be there in just a second. You waved him off, starting to fill your plate with some food. 

“Hello, Y/N,” Oliver greeted, pulling up a seat beside you, “Sorry for the wait.” 

“No worries,” you moved your plate to make some space for him. You took a bite of the steamed vegetables you had on your fork, “I should consider myself lucky that you even made time for me when all these students idolize you.” 

He blushed, chuckling at your comment, “I wouldn’t say idolize.”

“Respect?” you offered, sipping from your cup.

“Definitely not respect,” he shook his head, grimacing. “Tolerate, maybe?” 

“That’s fair.” 

“So, what brings you back to Hogwarts?” 

You looked out into the Great Hall, watching the students chat and eat with their friends. The students were still divided by house, despite being there for the summer, “I realized teaching was my passion so I decided to pursue it here.”

“Godric, I don’t know how you do it,” Oliver confessed, taking a big bite of the chicken he piled on his plate, “It’s my first day with these kids and they’re driving me mad.” 

“That’s because you’re teaching Quidditch players,” you said. He furrowed his eyebrows, silently asking you to elaborate. You rolled your eyes, “I forgot you’re like the worst of them! Quidditch players are stubborn and headstrong. It’s hard to get anything through the thick skulls of yours.” 

“Hey,” Oliver warned, though there was a teasing tone to his voice, “Not all of us are stubborn.” 

“Weren’t you the same boy who had a full on argument with Professor McGonagall when she cancelled Quidditch?” 

“I can’t believe you remember that after all these years,” he muttered, the tips of his ears turning red from embarrassment, “I will say that was not my finest moment.” 

“How about the time you guys lost a match to Hufflepuff and you had a very dramatic moment in the showers?”

“How do you know about that?” he groaned, hiding his face behind his hands.

You let out a hearty laugh, opting to put your cup down instead of drinking from it, “News spreads fast, Wood. But not to worry, those are the only things I remember from our years at school.” 

“Good,” he sighed, taking another bite. “I wish I had dirt on you too but the only thing I remember was that you were dating the Chaser from Slytherin and you’re a Slytherin yourself, I believe, so by proxy, you’re an enemy of mine.” 

“Aren’t we a bit too old for house rivalries?” 

“Never,” Oliver winked. He cleared his throat, looking down at his plate, “Speaking of, what happened between you and Warrington, if you don’t mind me asking.” 

“I don’t mind at all,” you responded. You swirled the food on your plate with the tip of your fork, thinking back to your failed relationship, “Let’s just say we chose different sides when it came down to it.” 

“Ah,” he nodded, understandingly. “Are you busy until term starts?” 

“Depends on why you’re asking. If you’re going to offer for me to join you in Quidditch, then yes, I am busy,” you shuddered, remembering the last time you were on a broom. 

Oliver chuckled, “Well, no. I was wondering if you wanted to go out to Hogsmeade some time, if you weren’t busy.”

You blushed, looking down at your lap, “I’d love to.” 

He mimicked your actions, the blush returning to his cheeks, “Brilliant. This weekend okay with you?” 

-

“Do you ever get tired of people asking for your autograph?” you asked, kicking a stray rock from the walkway. You were on your way to Hogsmeade with Oliver when a few teenagers rushed over to gush about the Quidditch player. 

“Never,” he grinned, his hands stuffed in his front pockets. His eyes gleamed with proudness, no doubt ecstatic about his success, “I’ve always wanted to be an athlete that kids could look up to, you know? I want to be a good role model so I’m always happy to sign a few things here and there. If it bothers you, I’ll tell them off, if you want.”

Quickly, you shook your head, “No, no. I don’t mind at all. I was just wondering. Your life has changed a lot since Hogwarts then?” 

Oliver whistled, raising his eyebrows, “Yeah, you can say that. The war took its toll on everyone and they wanted to escape so they turned to Quidditch. The sport has never been this popular before.” 

You nodded, understanding. You gulped before asking your next question, “Did you lose anyone?” 

“Almost,” Oliver admitted, tilting his head over to the direction of a bench, away from the entrance to Hogsmeade. You followed his lead, sitting beside him, knees touching. He continued, “Weasley. Fred, you remember him?” 

You hummed, a pang of pain hitting your chest, “Yeah, I do.” 

“Nearly died, that git,” a sad smile grazed his features. His voice began to crack and you immediately placed a comforting hand on his arm. “A wall fell on him and he wasn’t breathing for a bit. Thought we lost him but he pulled through. Thank Merlin he did.”

“How’s he now?” 

“Better, I think,” he smiled— genuinely this time. “Visited their shop before I got here. Their joke shop on Diagon Alley, have you heard of it?” 

“Yeah, I have. Those two were always brilliant when it came to that, weren’t they?” 

“Too brilliant for their own good. Say, did you guys ever figure out that they were the cause of Slytherin’s many misfortunes?” 

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile tugging on your lips, “Who do you think let them into Slytherin chambers?”

“You were their secret conspirator?!” Oliver exclaimed, shocked but impressed that you would help the two troublemakers terrorize your own house, “Godric! Why did you help them?”

“Not many people know this but I’m Muggleborn and my house wasn’t the kindest to me,” you cleared your throat, thinking back to the horrible days in Hogwarts once the Dark Lord’s followers became braver, “They only left me alone when I was with Cassius but obviously, when it came down to the real thing, he ended up just like the rest of them.” 

You felt a hand grip yours. You stared at Oliver’s thumb, drawing circles on the top of your hand. When you looked up, you saw he was staring at your intertwined fingers, as if trying to figure out what to say to your sudden confession. 

After a few beats of silence, you decided to continue speaking, “The twins saved me from being terrorized once in my fifth year. I was a year older than them but they had more courage than I ever did. I made a mistake, honestly it was an accident in an assignment. The guy I was paired with was cursing my name and calling me some nasty things and Fred and George stepped in and hexed the bloke. Got them like a month of detention but they never, ever, complained about it. Lost touch with them after I graduated.” 

“I didn’t know you knew them that well,” he replied, leaning back but not moving his hand away from yours. 

“I don’t,” you chuckled, looking at him, “We weren’t really friends, per se, but when they needed help, I was there. Same goes for me. I think it was just unspoken between the three of us, if that makes sense. But like I said, after I graduated, I lost touch with everyone from school. Muggleborns were targeted so I just tried to keep my head down. Didn’t even know about what happened to him until you said it just now.” 

Oliver paled, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

You shook your head, squeezing his hand for comfort, “Not your fault. Glad to hear he’s doing better. I don’t think the world would continue turning without Fred Weasley.” 

“I second that,” he laughed, getting up and pulling you with him, “Now, I’m in the mood for some Butterbeer and I would love your company. You alright with that?” 

“It’s like you read my mind.” 

As you walked to the entrance to Hogsmeade, Oliver piped up, “You should come visit their shop. They’re doing really well.” 

You pondered it for a moment, unconsciously leaning against his shoulder, “You reckon they still remember me?” 

“Hard to believe someone would forget you,” he mumbled, eyes widening when he realized he spoke out loud. You looked down at your feet, a blush coating your cheeks. Oliver mirrored your expression, the tips of his ears turning beet red, once again. He cleared his throat, “I reckon they’ll be over the moon to see you.” 

“I’ll go if you come with me,” you looked up at him, hopefully. You didn’t miss the small smile on his lips and the way his eyes twinkled when he looked down at you, practically leaning on his broad chest.

“Then it’s settled, we’ll hit Diagon Alley before term starts.” 

-

The rest of the time that you and Oliver were in Hogwarts, you spent most of your time together. It became evident to the rest of the professors and even some of the students that there was something going on between the two of you. Everyone knew of it. 

Everyone except you. And Oliver. 

You spent your days looking at the Quidditch player longingly, acting like you were a lovestruck student. You lost your senses whenever Oliver came around— stumbling over your words, blushing furiously when your hands brushed, or laughing too loud for too long over one of his terrible jokes. Some students have tried to get you two together by staging run-ins or inviting you to their Quidditch practices where the kids would purposely mess up just so Oliver could swoop in and show off his skills. It left you breathless, much to your dismay and the students’ excitement. They wouldn’t admit it either but sometimes they’d engage in very, rough plays that would result in Oliver getting a scratch or two so that he was forced to come see you to heal his wounds, as you were a trained Healer. 

Now, it was the final day of the summer camp and you were going to board Hogwarts Express with the students and Oliver. You both decided to visit Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes later that day. You had three weeks before the term started for the school year and before you were going to be an official Hogwarts professor. 

You plopped down on one of the seats, leaning your head against the window. It brought you back to the days when you were a student, waiting eagerly to arrive at Hogwarts to embark on whatever adventure was laid out for you. Oliver sat across from you after putting his trunk in the bin above you. 

He nudged your foot with his, “You’re about to be a professor in a few weeks. How’s it feel?” 

You grimaced a bit, “Nerve wracking? I dunno… I feel like I’m not ready.” 

“Nonsense,” Oliver said, “I’ve watched you with the kids. Quidditch players too, the worst of the lot according to you, and you were fantastic. They’ll love you.” 

“They only liked me because I know the famous Oliver Wood.” 

“Knock it off,” he rolled his eyes, smiling playfully at you. He got up and situated himself beside you, “Stop it. Take credit for your greatness. You’re going to be an incredible professor.” 

You turned red because of his praise. You cleared your throat, unsure if you would be able to handle anymore of his compliments, “What about you Quidditch star? Excited to be back on the pitch?”

He nodded, “Very, but I will miss Hogwarts and the kids. Didn’t think I’d get attached to them but here I am. It felt good to be back there, you know? But I feel like I’ve seen it in a new light now that I’m older.” 

“Ah yes, the old and wise Oliver Wood,” you teased, resting your head on him. 

He immediately wrapped his arm around you, wanting to feel you closer to him, “Oh, shut up.”

You remained silent. You didn’t know if it was the right time to say something but you couldn’t deny the feelings that flourished over the span of time that you got to know Oliver. It was hard not to fall for him— charismatic, talented, patient, brave, and not to mention, handsome. He was funny and kept you on your toes with his energy and youthfulness. He had a moral compass that steered him to the right thing, every single time, without fail. He was sure of himself but not cocky or arrogant, but so secure in what he wants himself to be— both career wise and personally. Oliver Wood was not someone you simply meet. He was someone you had to experience because letting him slip past your fingers was a crime on its own. 

You sighed softly, burying your face in the warmth of his thin jumper. You felt his heart thumping against your cheek and his thumb caressing your back. 

His chest rumbled from under you as he spoke, “What’s on your mind, darling?”

In a surge of confidence, you replied, “I’ll miss you.” 

You could feel him melt. He wrapped his arms tighter around you, as if you would keep him from completely falling apart. Oliver was hesitant at first. His lips ghosted over the top of your head and you could feel him retreating a few times before he let himself kiss you. You let out a breath of satisfaction when you felt his warm lips touch your crown and his mumbled words engulfed by your skin. 

You didn’t hear what he said so you pulled away, ready to ask him to repeat it, “Pardon?”

Oliver looked at you, his eyes empty except for one glimmer that you’ve never seen before. A sad smile made its way to the lips that was once on your skin, before he shook his head, “Nothing, love. We’ll write, won’t we?”

“I’d be disappointed if we didn’t.”

“Well, I couldn’t live with myself if I disappointed you.”

“Oliver…” you trailed off, pushing yourself off of him for a minute. You cursed under your breath when you missed his touch as soon as you pulled away. 

His eyebrows furrowed, confusion evident on his face, “What’s wrong?” 

“Do you ever think our friendship—” You stopped for a moment when that word slipped past your lips, not realizing how painful it was to admit that you two were nothing more than friends. You failed to notice the grimace that danced upon Oliver’s face as he wished, more than anything, for you to be more than his friend. 

You continued, “—was an accident? I mean, we had what? 6 years at Hogwarts and didn’t once talk to each other? What were the odds that we’d be at Hogwarts the same time years after we graduated and after a bloody war and get to know each other in a few weeks better than we ever did in 6 years?” 

“If there’s one thing I learned, life is unpredictable, Y/N,” Oliver said, looking directly at you. “I signed up to help kids play Quidditch for a summer. I didn’t think that I would meet you, but I thank my lucky stars that I did. I always associated the word accident with something horrible but if this— if we— were an accident, then so be it. But it’s a happy accident… at least I think so.” 

You gulped, slowly inching over to him. Your hands were shaking and it wasn’t because it suddenly felt so cold in the compartment where you sat. It was because you were getting closer to Oliver Wood— so impossibly close, you could feel his breath tickling your lips. He didn’t make any moves to push you away. He just nudged your nose with his and let his eyes drop slowly, until he saw only fireworks behind his eyelids and felt nothing else but the feeling of your sweet lips on his. Oliver pulled your body as close to his as possible and kissed you so passionately, you swore you forgot how to breathe. 

When the two of you finally pulled away, both of your eyes were still closed, afraid that once you opened them, the other would be nothing but a fragment of your imagination. But when your eyes fluttered open, you saw a sheepish Oliver Wood, flushed red in his cheeks, smiling at you like a little boy on Christmas Day. Your shaking hand was engulfed by his stable one, warmth and belonging coursing through your body. It felt right. 

His voice sliced through the love-hazed air, “I hope that wasn’t an accident.” 

“I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this,” you confessed, leaning in to kiss him again. Before you connected your lips, you spoke, “I fancy you, Oliver Wood. If that wasn’t obvious enough.” 

“I fancy you, too, Y/N Y/L/N,” Oliver responded, placing a quick kiss to your lips. He pulled away, cupping your face in his palm. His lips brushed yours, “If that wasn’t obvious enough.”

**NO LONGER DOING TAGS

[bound-writings]

Hey hey! I was wondering if you could make some amane/hanako fluffy relationship head canons 👀

omg yes sure im sorry youve have to wait like a year for this im sorryyy also i have ur other request i pwomise ill do it soon 🥺❤️

Hanako Relationship HCS

Hanako is just,, the best boyfriend ever... He is just a wholesome ghost who just craves affection from his loved one. Hanako will always be initiating affection at you in a relationship. He’s all over you, a part of him is always touching a part of you. Whether it’s hand holding or pinky linking, he’s always near to you, as if he’s bound to you. One of his favorite pastimes is making you blush, so expect frequent surprise  He likes to squish your cheeks too, it’s adorable to him when he sees your lips all pursed up, furrowed eyebrows and flushed cheeks as you try to get him off you. If you turn the tables on him and squish his cheeks, well, prepare for the most cutest sight you’ll ever see in your whole life. Hanako gets very embarrassed and red when you show affection to him first. Not that he minds, of course, he’s just like “wow I actually have an amazing lover who actually wants to love and kiss me despite me a flipping ghost.” He won’t comment on your affection until a bit later, right now he’s too flustered to say any coherent words. He will most definitely tease you about it though. Ah yes, there is also a lot of teasing in this relationship. No worries, it’s just harmless fun though! He’ll tone it down if you’re uncomfortable.

When I say Hanako is attached to you, I mean it. Even during class, this boy is there with you because apparently he has nothing better to do. So be prepared for people to see you talking to thin air for a while. If you try to shoo him away, he’ll act like he’s hurt by your oh so cruel words and just hug you tighter. Another thing, Hanako loves back hugs!! There’s nothing more satisfying than him squeezing you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, and he wordlessly cherishes your existence. The part he loves the best, however, is when you back hug him! Sneak up on his boy and hug him and he’ll be like putty in your hands. How he loves when your chest presses up against his back, wisps of your hair caressing his body, and your warm breath tickling his neck. It just makes him completely melt in your arms… but don’t call him out on it, at least not later. If you mention it while you’re holding him, he’d snap out of his daze and immediately realize what’s happening, and try to break free from your grasp, all in all ruining the moment. So if you want some wholesome moments… just stay quiet for a bit. He also likes to put his hat on you, especially when you’re feeling down (he just thinks it’s mega cute seeing you wear his clothes.)

Hanako trusts you A LOT. He has never let anyone this close to him, not when he was alive and not now. Well, that’s until he met you. You are someone who he can confide in and not feel like he’s being a nuisance. Whenever he has flashbacks from when he was alive, you’re the first person he would go to for comfort. Even though he doesn’t tell you the full story, he still loves you. He just wants to protect you from his painful past and his brother. Call him “Amane” and he might cry harder and hold you for hours.

Hanako is quite comfortable with PDA. He will probably rub it in Yashiro’s face that he’s literally dead and can still get dates, leading to Kou trying to fight Hanako. You name it, he’s holding your hand, arm around your waist, quick pecks on your cheek around anyone and everyone. Now, he does get a little bit nervous whenever you initiate PDA because he knows he can get a bit blushy and therefore doesn’t want people like Kou blackmailing him for “acting like a schoolgirl in love.” There’s also a lot of pet names! Hanako’s vocabulary ranges quite far, but his favorite and most used names always tend to deal with food. He likes to call you honey, sweet, and sugar in particular and actually anything that makes you flush. Once he called you donut with the most affection he could muster but you got offended because like?? Who calls their partner a donut?? He got all embarrassed and had to explain that you looked as delectable as a donut and tasted as sweet as one. And he left apologetically because he felt kind of stupid but you were like?? Wow that was kind of romantic actually..

DONUTS. Teaching Hanako to make donuts is one of my favorite little headcanon. You were like?? Hanako-kun?? How do you love donuts so much but you have no clue how to make them? So now you took it upon yourself to teach your beloved ghost boyfriend how to make his favorite sweet treat! Now, it’s going to have to be a time where barely anyone is around because you don’t want people to see you screaming and laughing by yourself. Hanako will need a lot of supervision in the kitchen (thankfully he isn’t as bad as Teru.) Hanako is more interested in watching you make the donuts and then him eating them so you’re going to have to discipline this boy. Of course, he comes around and he actually has a good time with you! His favorite part is when he gets to lick the spoon with the frosting. He will also 100 percent throw flour on you which escalates into a full-blown fight and ends up with both of you looking like actual ghosts with how white you are. You’re going to have to hold Hanako down because when it is time to clean up, he’s going to try and escape so don’t let that happen unless you want to be stuck cleaning by yourself. LET HIM FEEL YOUR PAIN WHEN YOU HAVE TO CLEAN HIS TOILETS.

Soon enough Hanako tries to make donuts for you, trying to return the favor (because.. he loves you 👉👈🥺.) He doesn’t even know how he managed to stay in the home economics room for so long without anyone noticing the chaos that’s going on in there. When he finishes the donuts… well they can’t even be called donuts because he messed them up so badly. And so he’s standing there, covered in dough and flour feeling quite sad because the donuts were meant for you and he failed miserably. Now, time to get rid of the evidence before you could come and see - too late… The door slammed open and you immediately winced at the state of the room, trying to fan the burnt smell out of the air. Ah, shit.

“Hanako-kun?! What the heck were you doing in here?”

Hanako rubbed the back of his head awkwardly making a peace sign with his fingers. “Just.. just cooking up some donuts like how you taught me to, (Name)-chan!”

“...I didn’t teach you to make a mess! What were you even thinking… what if someone came in and saw things floating in mid-air!” You hurried over to the ghost with a towel in hand. “If you wanted some donuts, you could have asked me to make-” pausing midsentence, you squinted at the bag on the table. Scrawled on brown paper bag read “For (Name)-chan.”

Noticing your attention at the table, he quickly stepped in front of your line of view with a nervous grin. “Let’s clean up now (Name)-chan~” 

But your attention was directed at the slightly burnt donuts on a plate. Hanako hadn’t made donuts to satisfy himself, he made them to show his gratitude to you! You felt touched as your heart pattered against your chest. You reached towards the burnt donuts.

“W-wah?! (Name)-chan, don’t eat that!”

You munched on the treat. It was burnt, but still had the lingering taste of sweetness, and most important, Hanako’s love. Hanako’s jaw dropped as he grabbed both of your hands.

“(Name-chan), why would you eat that?! It’s horrible and burnt, and all messed up!”

You shook your head, smiling at him while you licked the crumbs off your fingers. “It’s actually not too bad, Hanako-kun. Actually quite scrumptious for being burnt! You just need to learn to bake for a shorter amount of time and you’ll be a master at donut making in no time! Here, have a taste!”

You smashed your lips onto his. Hanako could taste the burnt donut on your lips, but all he cared about was that you were kissing him. Letting go of your wrists, instead he snaked his hands up and intertwined his fingers with yours.

Don’t doubt the wholesomeness of Hanako, he’ll have you busting uwus all day bro. Precious ghost bb most be protected.